Akeelah and the Bee

by James W. Ellison

  “It’s come down to this, folks,” said Javier. “Having crushed all five other opponents, Dylan has only Akeelah to beat. But she’s ahead by seventeen points with only a few letters left. Is this an upset in the making? Stay tuned. Don’t you dare turn your dial….”

  Georgia whispered to Kiana, “What kinda birthday party is this?”

  “You got me,” Kiana whispered back. “Why am I not surprised my sister’s playin’ Scrabble? That’s all she ever does.”

  Dylan, fighting against time, spelled the word “lucid.”

  “Yowza!” Javier shouted. “Using the triple-word score, Dylan charges ahead by thirteen. This is a horse race, folks.”

  Akeelah chewed the inside of her cheek and tapped her foot on the ground. Her eyes were inches from the board as she analyzed the various possibilities. Dylan nervously glanced behind him to see his father standing with his arms crossed, looking none too pleased. Dylan smiled but there was no return smile from Mr. Watanabe.

  Akeelah shuffled the letters on her rack as she continued to think.

  “Just go,” Dylan hissed.

  She looked up to see him staring dead in her eyes, and she saw something in his expression that was unfamiliar. Not the old arrogance, the feeling that he was invincible. Was it fear? Was it possibly even respect?

  She looked back at the board and spelled out the word “funnel.”

  “Hoo-ya,” Javier exclaimed, bouncing on his feet with excitement. “Akeelah’s back in the lead by seven and has two tiles left. But this could be Dylan’s final play. What’s he gonna do?”

  Kiana, who understood the game but seldom played, smiled broadly at her sister’s move. Mr. Watanabe continued to glower as his eyes roved over the board. Dylan, beads of sweat on his forehead, frowned at the board, muttering quietly under his breath. Then suddenly he smiled and looked up at Akeelah.

  “Arrivederci, sweetheart,” he said.

  Using his three remaining tiles, he spelled “limn.”

  “Seven points ties the game,” Javier said, some of his sportscaster’s exuberance gone. “But Dylan gets Akeelah’s last two points. He wins! A heartbreaker….”

  Dylan walked off with his father, a tight grin on his face. Akeelah let out a long sigh as all the kids started chattering about the close match.

  “Wow, Akeelah,” Javier said, shaking her hand. “No one ever gets that close to beating Dylan. I’m really impressed.”

  “But I didn’t beat him.”

  “Girl,” Georgia said, “you passed up the mall to play Scrabble? You’re loco and I’m never gonna figure you out. Forever trippin’, that’s you.”

  Akeelah gave her friend a wan smile but said nothing. She went inside the house and grabbed her purse from the hallway. As she was about to leave, she heard an angry voice in the living room and she stopped to listen. She tiptoed to the door and peeked around the corner and saw Mr. Watanabe pointing a finger at Dylan, his voice a low growl.

  “If you can barely beat a little black girl at a silly board game, how do you expect to win the National Bee?”

  Dylan bowed his head and said nothing. His father sharply struck the wall, causing both Dylan and Akeelah to jump.

  “You listen to me,” Mr. Watanabe said, his voice thick and threatening. “We’re not coming in second again this year. Second is unacceptable. We are going to win, is that understood?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “You have to work a little harder.”

  “I don’t think I can work any harder,” Dylan said, his voice small, almost childlike.

  “Yes, you can. You can always go the extra mile. And that’s what you’re going to do. Don’t ever forget: you’re my son.”

  “I know that.”

  Akeelah watched Mr. Watanabe lead his humiliated son out of the house.

  Eight

  Early Monday morning, Akeelah sat in a chair beside Dr. Larabee’s desk, cradling an enormous book in her thin arms and reading aloud as he sat imperiously behind his desk, listening intently.

  Akeelah read, “‘He began to have a dim feeling that, to attain his place in the world, he must be himself, and not another.’” The book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. “Dr. Larabee, this book is heavy. My arms are beginning to hurt.”

  “Good,” Dr. Larabee said. “You need to develop your arm muscles.”

  “I thought we were developin’ my vocabulary.”

  “We are. But you have to remember, the mind and body are connected. Do you do any physical exercise?”

  She smiled. “As little as possible. The school makes us take gym, but you can slide out of it if you want to. Crenshaw doesn’t have many rules you can’t break.”

  “You should build up your body,” Dr. Larabee said.

  “Should I lift weights?” she asked jokingly.

  “Not a bad idea,” he said seriously. “Keep reading.”

  “But I already know most of the words in this speech.”

  “It’s not a speech,” Dr. Larabee explained. “It’s an essay by W. E. B. DuBois, the first black man to get a Ph.D. from Harvard. He empowered blacks to be all that they could be. Unlike Booker T. Washington, who accommodated himself to the white culture—peace at any price—DuBois believed that blacks needed to be active politically, culturally, and intellectually. He was one of the great figures in African-American history.”

  “I know he was important and all,” Akeelah said. “But shouldn’t I be learning more big words? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

  He looked at her sharply. “Are you questioning my teaching methods?”

  She shook her head. “I’d never do that, Dr. Larabee.”

  Suddenly he broke into a smile, a rare event. “Well, maybe you should. I’m not infallible, and I do believe that DuBois would approve. But I am your teacher and, for better or worse, we’ll do it my way.” Just as suddenly, his old irritability had returned. “Spell ‘cabalistic.’”

  She tapped lightly on her thigh. “C-a-b-a-l-i-s-t-i-c.”

  Dr. Larabee took note of the way her hand tapped in rhythm with the letters. He had noticed this habit of hers before, and he sensed that it was something they should discuss because it might prove to be a useful strategy, but he didn’t think the proper moment had arrived. He would bide his time and continue to monitor how she used her hand and how it affected her success with the most difficult words.

  “And when did you learn ‘cabalistic’?” he said.

  “About two minutes ago, in this book. But in the time it took me to learn that one word, I’ll bet Dylan probably learned twenty.”

  “You might be right, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Why is it beside the point? It seems to be the point.”

  Dr. Larabee pointed a finger at her. “Don’t get smart with me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll tell you why it’s beside the point. Dylan Watanabe may learn a hundred words to your one, but he’s just a little robot. Wind him up and watch him spell. The people we’re studying—DuBois, Dr. King, JFK—they used words to change the world. And they didn’t acquire their vocabulary merely through rote memorization. The rote method will always trip you up in the end.”

  “Okay,” Akeelah said, “but when I’m at the bee and they ask me to spell some little fish from Australia or some weird bacteria on the moon, I’m gonna wish we’d done a little more rote memorizing and not so much essay reading.” She paused, realizing that she was criticizing his methods again, a definite no-no with this proud and brilliant man. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Dr. Larabee said, “Bacteria don’t exist on the moon.”

  “They don’t?”

  “No. The terrain is totally barren. Let me ask you something. “Where do you think ‘big words’ come from?”

  “People with big brains?” she said.

  He glowered at her for a moment, wondering if she was slyly poking fun at him, whic
h she sometimes did. He then went to a huge tablet on an easel. He lifted up the cover, revealing a long handwritten list of difficult words.

  “What do you see?” he asked.

  “A bunch of big words that I don’t know.” She couldn’t help adding, “And I should know.”

  “Look closer,” he insisted. “What do you see?”

  He covered part of the first word, “soliterraneous,” so that only the first syllable, “sol,” was showing.

  “What kind of power do we get from the sun?” he continued.

  “Solar power.”

  “So what’s ‘sol’?”

  “Sun?”

  He nodded. He then covered up “soli,” leaving “terraneous.”

  “And what does ‘terraneous’ sound like?”

  “…Terrain?” she said.

  He nodded. “Exactly—meaning ‘the earth.’ Soli…terraneous….It means the sun and earth working together. So where do big words come from?”

  Akeelah hesitated. “Little words? Combinations of them?”

  Again he nodded. “And how many little words do you know?”

  “Tons of them,” she said. “More than I can count.”

  “And there are tons more to learn.” He excitedly started pulling dictionaries off his shelf. “Greek ones and Latin ones and French ones. If you learn them all, you can spell any word, no matter how seemingly big.”

  She looked at the daunting stack of books and shook her head.

  “Uh, maybe we should go back to the essay reading.”

  “What’s the matter?” Dr. Larabee said. “I thought you wanted to win the National Bee. Isn’t that what you’re doing here, putting up with what I’m sure you consider my bullying and cranky disposition?”

  “Well, maybe just gettin’ there this time is good enough.”

  He shook his head back and forth with angry emphasis. “Oh, come on, Akeelah, don’t give me that baloney. You want to win so badly it keeps you up at night. You dream about it, obsess about it. Ever since you found out there was a National Bee, you’ve seen yourself holding up that trophy. Am I right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You know I’m right. But you can’t win it if you can’t say it. So say it. Don’t hold back. Sing it out loud and clear.”

  “I wanna win.”

  “No, I can’t hear you. I don’t hear the conviction. Say it louder!”

  “I wanna win.” When she saw no reaction from Dr. Larabee, she flung up an arm, her hand in a fist, and yelled out, “I wanna win the National Spelling Bee!”

  “Much better,” Dr. Larabee said. “But you’ll win using my methods. By first understanding the power of language—and then by deconstructing it. Breaking it down to its roots, its origin. You will consume it and you will own it. And then you know what you’ll be?”

  “Tired,” she said with a sigh. “Very, very tired.”

  “No.” He smiled. “You, Akeelah Anderson, will be a champion. So are you ready?”

  She paused and then nodded.

  “Then let’s go,” he said. “Our work has just begun.”

  During the next few weeks Akeelah worked harder than she had ever imagined possible. She furiously wrote down words, dictated by Dr. Larabee. He guided her through columns of prefixes and suffixes. He taught her to draw interconnecting lines between foreign roots and their English counterparts. She walked around his office reading aloud from Shakespeare while he listened and then discussed Shakespearean language with her, and then he walked around Akeelah, pumping her with words from flashcards. While she sat in his office memorizing words, Dr. Larabee dictated a list of words into a recorder. At night, in her bedroom, Akeelah wore headphones at her computer and typed the words from Dr. Larabee’s dictation.

  One morning she complained to him that she didn’t feel she was getting anywhere. It was hot and they were sitting on the front porch as Dr. Larabee listened to Akeelah read from a book of Greek mythology. They had become quite comfortable with each other over time, and the old tensions and doubts between them had gradually resolved. Akeelah looked up from her reading and said, “There’s this ocean of words and all it’s gonna take is one li’l old word to trip me up. I’m discouraged, Dr. Larabee. I’m also bone-tired and I’ve got a splitting headache.”

  He stared at her. “Do you want to quit?”

  She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I think I should.”

  “I think you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Make up your mind what you’re going to do, because I’m not going to waste my time.”

  “I don’t want to quit, Dr. Larabee. I’m just feelin’ low.”

  “That can happen. But when you feel you’ve reached the limit of your endurance, you know what you have to do?”

  “What?”

  “You have to push a little harder. This is brutal work. You didn’t dream it would be this demanding, did you?”

  “No.”

  He regarded her for a moment and then said, “I never compliment you, do I?”

  She smiled. “If you did, I’d drop dead with shock.”

  “Would you like me to compliment you?”

  “Honestly?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I guess I would. But believe me, I’m not expectin’ it.”

  “Maybe one day I will. But don’t hold your breath. We have a long way to go before we can pat ourselves on the back.”

  She looked down at her book. “A long way to go,” she said and nodded. “You know what I like the most about you?”

  Akeelah (Keke Palmer) and Georgia (Sahara Garey) encounter Steve on their way home from school in South Los Angeles.

  Devon (Lee Thompson Young) is home from the service for an Anderson family dinner prepared by his mother (Angela Bassett).

  Principal Welch (Curtis Armstrong) and Akeelah’s sister, Kiana (Erica Hubbard), cheer Akeelah on at the District Bee.

  Keke Palmer as Akeelah Anderson.

  Laurence Fishburne as Dr. Joshua Larabee.

  An intense game of Scrabble commences between Akeelah (Keke Palmer) and Dylan (Sean Michael Afable). Real-life spelling bee champion George Hornedo plays Roman (seated, center).

  Dylan (Sean Michael Afable) receives a stern lecture from his domineering father (Tzi Ma).

  Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne) agrees to become Akeelah’s (Keke Palmer) spelling coach.

  Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne) coaches Akeelah (Keke Palmer) by introducing her to great works of literature.

  Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne) discovers Akeelah’s mnemonic device, jumping rope.

  ABOVE: Tanya (Angela Bassett) confronts Akeelah (Keke Palmer) at the Regional Bee while Mr. Welch (Curtis Armstrong) and Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne) look on.

  RIGHT: Tanya (Angela Bassett) forgives Akeelah (Keke Palmer) and begins to support her daughter’s dream.

  The winners of the Regional Bee display their ribbons. From left to right, Dylan (Sean Michael Afable), Javier (J. R. Villarreal), and Akeelah (Keke Palmer).

  Akeelah (Keke Palmer) smiles for the cameras with Mr. Welch (Curtis Armstrong) after qualifying for the Scripps National Spelling Bee.

  Tanya (Angela Bassett) tries to persuade Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne) to continue coaching Akeelah.

  Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne) shows Akeelah (Keke Palmer) a bust of Frederick Douglass in Washington, D.C.

  Akeelah (Keke Palmer) gives it her all at the Scripps National Spelling Bee.

  Kiana (Erica Hubbard) and Terrence (Julito McCullum) watch as their sister makes history at the televised bee.

  Dylan (Sean Michael Afable) and Akeelah (Keke Palmer) share the spelling bee title.

  Tanya (Angela Bassett), Akeelah (Keke Palmer), Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne), and Javier (J. R. Villarreal) all celebrate Akeelah’s inspiring win.

  Writer and director Doug Atchison discusses a scene with Keke Palmer and Angela Bassett.

  “I’m not sure I want to
know.”

  “You never lie to me.”

  One early summer afternoon, Akeelah had just arrived home from Dr. Larabee’s and was quietly reading aloud from a Latin textbook as she entered the house and headed toward her room.

  “Akeelah?”

  She turned with a start, hiding the book behind her. She saw a somber-looking Tanya smoking a cigarette at the kitchen table.

  “What d’ya got there?” she said.

  “Nothin’, Ma. Homework. Why you home so early?”

  “I wasn’t feeling good. They let me off early.”

  Tanya’s eyes were bloodshot, as though she had been crying. On the table were a number of old photo albums open to pictures of a younger Tanya with Akeelah’s father.

  “You know…? The Regional Spelling Bee’s coming up very soon,” Akeelah ventured.

  “Is that one gonna be in Beverly Hills, too?” Her mother sighed and kneaded her forehead with her thumb and first finger. “I told you, once you pass summer school you can start worrying about spelling bees again.”

  “But—”

  “Akeelah, I don’t have time for this right now. You’re always fighting me and I’m not in the mood for it.”

  Akeelah studied her mother, who looked gray with fatigue. “You okay, Ma?”

  “Just a little under the weather.”

  Akeelah nodded and then disappeared into her bedroom. Tanya continued to sit at the table smoking her cigarette. She slowly shook her head and sighed. There was just nothing she could do with that child. She had never had control over Akeelah. The girl existed in an orbit all her own, spinning through space in her own way.