by Mandy Martin
noticed any of it. Her brain felt stuck in a loop. Don’t use the pepper pot. But Borneo! Don’t use the pepper pot. But Borneo? Over and over.
Esme couldn’t sleep. They were leaving early in the morning to travel to the Spelling Championship and she knew she needed to rest. But the dilemma whirled like a carousel in her mind. It was risky to use the pepper pot, but going to Borneo would be awesome.
Dawn crept in through the curtains and still Esme hadn’t reached a decision. It wasn’t like she could ask Mum – Mum would probably chuck the ugly pot in a bin.
I don’t have to decide now, Esme thought as she pulled on her school uniform. It felt odd to wear it on a Saturday. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the buttons.
“Breakfast!” Mum called from the kitchen. Esme felt sick. She couldn’t eat. She wasn’t even sure she could make it down the stairs. Her legs had turned into jelly babies. The image made Esme snort. What if the stupid pot actually turned her legs to jelly babies? She was still giggling as she trotted down stairs.
Challenging Championships
Esme peered through the windscreen at the sports hall behind the busy car park. Across the front of the red-brick building was a huge banner, proclaiming, “National Spelling Championship.” Esme swallowed, glad she’d skipped breakfast. At least she couldn’t be sick on anyone.
Mum reached over and patted her knee. “Whatever happens, I’m super proud of you. You’re doing this on your own hard work.”
Guilt washed over Esme, leaving her face hot and sticky. The pepper pot burned in her mind. She wouldn’t be surprised if it burned a hole through her bag.
Somehow Esme managed to stumble across the car park and into the building. She stood mute while Mum checked her in and led her down long dark corridors into a too-bright room twice the size of her school hall. Seating stands rose up on three sides, full of chattering children and serious-looking parents with clipboards and spelling books. Everywhere Esme looked, neatly dressed school kids were reciting the spelling of words she couldn’t even pronounce.
“Breathe, Esme,” Mum whispered with a smile. “You’re here – you’re already a winner in my book.”
“But the ultimate winner goes to Borneo!” Esme blurted out. She hadn’t told Mum yet.
“I know, Elderflower. Don’t dwell on it. It will make you more nervous.”
How did mums know everything? Esme had to smile, even though she could feel her clammy hand slipping from Mum’s grip.
One by one, the other schools took their places at the front of the hall. Esme’s age group were second, and all too soon, it was Esme’s turn. It was now or never.
The silver pepper pot tugged at her mind. It willed her to reach down and clasp her fingers around its warm metal. Esme chewed her lip and gazed round the room, ignoring the temptation. Over on the far side she saw a block of familiar uniforms. Her class! They were all there. Right at the front, with a banner saying, “Go Esme!” was Nat.
Esme tried to swallow the huge lump in her throat but it wouldn’t shift.
All those people are here to see me, and I’m going to let them all down, she thought miserably.
With a little cry, Esme suddenly delved into her bag and felt around for the pot. She couldn’t do it by herself, no way. She’d stand at the front and not even be able to spell her own name. But where was that pot?
“It’s your turn, Esme,” Mum said, gesturing at the sticker on Esme’s uniform. “They’ve called your number.”
“Just a minute,” Esme muttered, still frantically searching the bag.
“If you’re looking for the pepper pot, you won’t find it,” Mum said severely. “And I have to say I’m a little disappointed.”
“Oh, Mum,” Esme wailed, tears pricking her sleep-deprived eyes. “Don’t be cross. Look at all my friends, expecting me to do well. I can’t let them down.”
“And you won’t,” Mum said, giving Esme a little push towards the stairs as the announcer called her number again. “Relax and don’t overthink it. You can do this; I believe in you.”
Esme gave Mum a tight smile and walked across the hall floor. It felt like half a mile at least and her legs wobbled by the time she reached the small platform. She was up against a tall boy in a navy blazer and creased trousers.
Oh cripes, I’ve got no hope!
And then she heard it. Nat and her friends were calling, “Go Esme, Go Esme,” until one of the judges told them to hush.
“Right, now you are both here,” the head judge said, with a little stare at Esme, “We will begin. First, spell pronunciation.”
Esme began to breathe. Mum was right, she could do this. “P R O N U N C I A T I O N,” she said clearly. The judge nodded. Next came mischievous. That was harder, she always put an extra I after the V. But they’d practised it, she just had to concentrate.
“M I S C H I E V … O U S,” she said slowly, and heard Mum cheering from behind her. Esme grinned. As long as she didn’t think too hard about the spelling, the letters appeared in her mind. Mum was right, she thought, my brain does know what it’s doing!
She got through communicate and embarrass and interrupt with the right number of consonants. As long as they didn’t ask her to spell consonants she was okay.
“That concludes the spelling list,” the judge stated solemnly. “And it is a tie! Therefore, we will have tie-break spellings until one of you makes a mistake.”
Sweat prickled across Esme’s forehead. They had only learned the year 5 words. If the judge asked her something else, she was done for. Already she could feel a sneeze tickling her nose, and she just knew the pot would grant her a wish, even from this far away.
“The first word is inoculate.”
Esme gave a little hiccup of relief. She knew this one. She had read everything she needed to know about going to Borneo, including what inoculations she needed. It was one N not two.
“I N O C U L A T E.” Esme’s class mates whooped until they were told to shush. Esme’s competitor also spelled his word correctly. Esme inhaled deeply through her nose. She had to concentrate if she wanted that trip to Borneo.
Foreign, fascinate, essential, all came and all were survived. Even the judge was starting to sound a little harassed. Esme began to think of what she would need for her Borneo trip. Hat, raincoat, walking boots. Insect repellent.
Suddenly she heard a gasp from her class mates. Esme looked up and realised the judge was staring at her. What had the word been? Tricky enough to shock her friends at any rate.
“Please spell bachelor,” the judge repeated impatiently.
Esme froze. Bachelor? She had no idea. She’d never even seen it written down before. What was a bachelor anyway? The tickle in her nose grew stronger and Esme felt a sneeze gathering force. She closed her eyes and stifled a tiny, “a-choo!” She could almost taste Mum’s disapproval. But she didn’t want to cheat. The pepper pot was not going to win this battle. It still had to get out one more sneeze, and she could have her turn before that happened, couldn’t she?
Holding her nose, Esme quickly started spelling the word. “Er, B A C H E L …” How did it end? Was it AR, ER, or OR? It sounded like ER. Yes, that had to be it. “E R,” she finished.
The hall was silent for a moment and then a groan rippled out from Esme’s class while a cheer broke out on the other side of the hall. The crisp pin-striped boy next to her pumped his fist. Esme didn’t need the judge to say, “I’m afraid that is incorrect,” to know she had lost.
She wouldn’t be going to Borneo after all.
Catastrophe!
“Oh, Elderflower I’m so proud of you,” Mum said, running over to give Esme a huge hug. Her class mates crowded round too.
“You gave it your best, mate,” Nat said, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Those tie-breaker words were year 7 words!” Mia exclaimed. “That was so mean!”
Esme smiled tearfully at them. “I’m so sorry I didn’t win.” She saw one of the clever children wat
ching her, and her stomach twisted painfully. If she hadn’t taken their place, they might be going through to the final right now.
The smartest of the clever kids rose slowly and walked over. Then she grinned. “Well done, Esmerelda, you did us all proud. I would definitely have put double n in inoculate.”
Relief washed over Esme and she smiled gratefully at the girl. “Thank you.”
Gradually, Esme’s class mates drifted away. “Come on, Flower,” Mum said, “Let’s go and get some dinner, it’s been a long day.”
As they made their way to the car park, through the older children waiting for their turn to compete, Mum took Esme’s hand and squeezed. “Well done for not sneezing!” she said.
“I almost didn’t have a choice,” Esme confessed. “I could feel the sneeze coming.”
Mum pursed her lips. “I think we’d better part company with that pepper pot before it causes real harm.”
“We can’t just chuck it away,” Esme said, “Anyone might find it. It’s sneaky.”
Mum nodded. “We’ll take it back to Maud’s and put it in for Dosh in the Loft. Let a collector lock it safely away in a glass box.”
Dinner was delicious. Dough balls in garlic butter, followed by spicy peperoni pizza, and hot fudge chocolate cake for pudding. By the time she was sipping her babycino with chocolate sprinkles, Esme felt much better.
“If I had won, I would still have had to survive the final,” she said, wiping the chocolate sauce off her plate with one finger.
“And
