Gingerbread
The room echoed with a sort of distant and mild chatter, spreading across the cafeteria floor. You could pick up specific muddled conversations highlighted across the span of the room, but all in all it was a murky field of voices, all less distinguishable from the rest.
We stood in the back of the stage. Some arms folded, some leaning up against a slab of wall only available for a few feet
You could pick out the smart ones. One girl sat in the corner reading a book, and another younger boy, barely looking like a 5th grader, was cleaning his glasses with the bottom of his shirt and wiping his brow with his sleeve.
It was the group of five in the corner, all good friends and lingered in close proximity due to nervousness.
You just knew they couldn’t spell.
But the majority of us were circling the room with our eyes, trying to pay attention to something beside the inane chatter from the cafeteria. We were all nervous to some extent. Even the girl with the book looked up every few moments towards the ceiling and then planted her eyes back into the pages of the novel.
It was a nerve-racking affair, and only the prolonged length of waiting…waiting…waiting to spell and waiting to see those chattering faces quiet and anticipate your every letter.
A voice crawled to life. It was the principal of the school.
“Welcome parents and students. This is our seventh spelling bee hosted by the school and we have 28 fifth graders, some even fourth…” the auditorium laughed a little exhausted laugh. “but most fifth, and they’ll be playing for a chance to travel to the national level spelling bee in Tallahassee and…” the lady extended the words for the sake of tension…” and a $1000 prize!” She grinned and scanned her eyes around the auditorium. There was general silence, beside a cough by a faculty member from the back. The walls grinned back.
“So we’re going to go ahead and get started. Now I will introduce you to one of the most exceptional members of our team here at Maple Oaks Middle School, Mrs. Bumbler.”
A lukewarm applause spread its germs across the auditorium and a skinny middle aged woman stepped slowly up a small set of stairs at the edge of the stage, and rocked her body to the mic.
She tapped it and a small rumble went off. Dum. Dum.
“Hello. This works yes?” She paused.
“Ok, were going to go ahead and get started. Everyone a round of applause to the fifth graders of Maple Oaks…” Applause interrupted her words and they faded, as we started slowly walking onto the stage taking our place at our respective seats lining the stage in nice comfortably rows.
I sat right out front, noting again, that I was second up. Just like most things, I’m not the type to get tossed into the fire first, but I’ll be damned if I’m not far behind.
“Hello students. Now to go over the rules for your family down here, they…she paused, hesitant at her phrasing. …”you are allowed to use the word given to you in a sentence by simply asking me, and you are allowed to ask for the definition of the word.” She nodded to the crowd. “ As well students, once your eliminated you walk to the side of the stage on your left and make your way to the first open seat in the first row of the cafeteria.”
As soon as she said this, my eyes became aware of an empty row of seats lining the front of the cafeteria, 26 seats…for each eliminated student.
“Does everyone understand?” The students mainly froze, except for a few who were glancing erratically around the cafeteria looking for their sisters, brothers, and parents…
My grandma waved at me from the back row. She must have come in late. It did not bother me that my sister is much older and thought the spelling bee was super lame and that my dad was working. It didn’t bother me that my mom thought only slightly more of the spelling bee than my sister and was busy…cleaning or shopping…or something.
“Ok then we’re all set. First up, Kimberly Dossen.” A few people in the crowd applauded, notably her parents, but I can only assume they were still figuring out if you were supposed to applaud BEFORE a student spelled a word. Kimberly moved lightly up to the podium and stood on her tip-toes to reach the mic which hung low and brushed against her cheek ever so softly. The audience made some noises and smiled.
“Ok Kimberly your word is auction.”
Her voice squeaked. She reached her mouth up to the mic. “define please.”
“A public sale in which property or items of merchandise are sold to the highest bidder.”
Sounds awfully boring. I place my hands together and leaned forward. Maybe she’ll be the first out? I hoped.
“Auction. A. U.” She paused. I prayed she would say K. Please say K please say K.
“C. T.” she took another brief paused and I sighed. “I. O. N. Auction.” Kimberly grinned wide and the audience clapped alongside her smile. She placed her hands behind her back, stuck her chest out, and then returned to her seat giddy and grinning clear between her cheeks.
“Ok. Austin Plummer. “That was my name. It was my turn. I lifted myself off the seat and stood in front of it for a brief moment trying to catch eye contact with my grandma. My brow pulsated. What if I got a hard word? What if all that studying was just…for nothing? I stepped out from in front of my seat and took quick heaving steps up to the podium. I was a bit taller than Kimberly so my head stuck out the top of the podium more clearly.
“Austin. Your word is…Gingerbread.” Gingerbread? What a silly word. I felt a brief level of intensity relaxed itself from against my forehead. Despite this relief, I was sweating, shaking, nervous…so nervous I thought the words were unable to come out.
“G. I. um…I froze. I made a mistake.
“Gingerbread. Gingerbread. G. I. N. G.” It was E.R. I knew it was E.R. Why was I pausing, why don’t I just spit this out.
“E. R. B. E. A. R. D.” I smiled and recited the word to close my turn. “Gingerbread.” My eyes opened again and I looked out towards the audience. They all stared so blankly. So despairingly. I caught my grandma in the back with her hand over her mouth. She ignored my glance and looked down.
“I’m sorry that’s incorrect; please take the first seat in the front row.” I gulped. Incorrect? Gingerbread?!
I went off to my right and Mrs. Bumbler’s voice erupted over the mic.
“Over here Austin.” She pulled her mouth away from the mic and motioned with her hands the stairs by her feet. I walked over to her, in front of her, then down the few steps necessary to get to the surface floor of the cafeteria.
The front row was wide open, and I planted myself down on the first available chair. I didn’t look back at the audience, but they all looked at me. I could feel their gaze sweeping and rubbing my back, running their grimy hands down the side of my skin.
I recoiled in my chair and stared down at my feet.
“Ok, Rebecca Wise, your turn.” Mrs. Bumbler’s voice agitated my ears. I covered them with my hands and sulked further into embarrassment.
Gingerbeard. I spelled Gingerbeard.
The words, the applauses, the words, and the awkward silences continued throughout the rest of the two hours I was stuck planted in a seat that was nothing but memorable, nothing like being onstage, and more nervous and disappointed than I would ever be, ever will be, ever could be ever.
