after Lenny had to sit down because he misspelled “mischief,” Mrs. Danielson gave Caroline the word “geriatric,” and she was out.
I wasn’t the only person who couldn’t believe it. You could tell that everyone in the whole gym was stunned. The champion speller, out on such an easy word? It wasn’t even a sixth- or seventh-grade word. “Geriatric” was a fifth-grade word! And Caroline Wu had missed it! No one could understand what had happened.
No one except those of us who knew about Mrs. Harrington’s chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, of course.
Now I was the only person from Mrs. Hunter’s class standing in the front of the gym—me and Prince Peter. The pressure was just too much! I knew I was going to crack. Because When the mother of your kitten is at the veterinary hospital in premature labor, and you don’t know if you’re going to get a cat or not, and a girl in your class says she’s going to beat you up, and you know if you mess up, she’s going to do it for sure, it’s hard to concentrate on spelling.
That’s a rule.
But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d do okay. Maybe Mrs. Danielson would give me the word “ingrate,” and I would spell it correctly, and I would win the spelling bee for our class, and everyone would lift me onto their shoulders and carry me around, cheering, and people at Pine Heights Elementary would stop considering me the New Girl…
…and Rosemary Dawkins wouldn’t want to kill me anymore.
It could happen.
RULE #5
Friends—and Queens—Don’t Let Each Other Get Beaten Up
Except it totally didn’t.
What happened instead was all the kids in Mrs. Hunter’s class, out in the audience in the gym, led by Rosemary, were totally making me super nervous every time I got a word by chanting my name like I was a football player or something. They kept going, “AL-LIE! AL-LIE!”
And that wasn’t actually helping. That was actually doing the opposite of helping. It was making me more nervous. Like, it was making my hands start to sweat and making me want to go out into the hallway to get a drink of water.
Only you couldn’t go out into the hallway to get a drink of water. Because this was the fourth-grade spellingbee, and it was serious. Our class had to win, or we’d be completely humiliated. Also, Rosemary Dawkins might kill me.
But all I could think about was that at this very moment, Lady Serena Archibald might actually be dying. Really, literally, dying. And I didn’t even know it. I was at school in a stupid spelling bee. What did knowing how to spell words even matter? When I was a grown-up I would have a computer at my job like my mom and dad, anyway, and that computer would have a spell-checker on it. So why did I even need to know how to spell?
Plus, I want to be a veterinarian, like the one who was hopefully saving Lady Serena’s life right now. How did knowing how to spell help you to be a better veterinarian?
It was right then that Mrs. Danielson said, “Allie? Are you ready?” and I realized it was my turn again.
I couldn’t believe it! Already? It felt like it had just been my turn. Hadn’t I spelled “anarchy”? I was so tired from getting no sleep from staying up all night worrying, plus from telling ghost stories for hours the night before.
But just like last time, Rosemary was leading all the boys who sat in the last row with her in Mrs. Hunter’s class in chiming, “AL-LIE! AL-LIE!” The whole class, I knew, was counting on me. Me, the New Girl. I couldn’t let them down.
“Allie,” Mrs. Danielson said. “Your word is ‘doctor.’ ‘Doctor.’”
I wiped my sweat-soaked hands on my jeans, feeling relieved. Doctor! That was easy.
“Doctor,” I said. “D-O-C-T—”
Wait. Wait a minute. Was it E-R? Or O-R? I couldn’t remember. I was so tired. Doctor? Or docter? They both sounded right. Which was it?
It had to be E-R. Because that’s where doctors work. In an ER. ER stands for emergency room. So it had to be
I wasn’t the only person who couldn’t believe it. You could tell that everyone in the whole gym was stunned. The champion speller, out on such an easy word? It wasn’t even a sixth- or seventh-grade word. “Geriatric” was a fifth-grade word! And Caroline Wu had missed it! No one could understand what had happened.
No one except those of us who knew about Mrs. Harrington’s chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, of course.
Now I was the only person from Mrs. Hunter’s class standing in the front of the gym—me and Prince Peter. The pressure was just too much! I knew I was going to crack. Because When the mother of your kitten is at the veterinary hospital in premature labor, and you don’t know if you’re going to get a cat or not, and a girl in your class says she’s going to beat you up, and you know if you mess up, she’s going to do it for sure, it’s hard to concentrate on spelling.
That’s a rule.
But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d do okay. Maybe Mrs. Danielson would give me the word “ingrate,” and I would spell it correctly, and I would win the spelling bee for our class, and everyone would lift me onto their shoulders and carry me around, cheering, and people at Pine Heights Elementary would stop considering me the New Girl…
…and Rosemary Dawkins wouldn’t want to kill me anymore.
It could happen.
RULE #5
Friends—and Queens—Don’t Let Each Other Get Beaten Up
Except it totally didn’t.
What happened instead was all the kids in Mrs. Hunter’s class, out in the audience in the gym, led by Rosemary, were totally making me super nervous every time I got a word by chanting my name like I was a football player or something. They kept going, “AL-LIE! AL-LIE!”
And that wasn’t actually helping. That was actually doing the opposite of helping. It was making me more nervous. Like, it was making my hands start to sweat and making me want to go out into the hallway to get a drink of water.
Only you couldn’t go out into the hallway to get a drink of water. Because this was the fourth-grade spellingbee, and it was serious. Our class had to win, or we’d be completely humiliated. Also, Rosemary Dawkins might kill me.
But all I could think about was that at this very moment, Lady Serena Archibald might actually be dying. Really, literally, dying. And I didn’t even know it. I was at school in a stupid spelling bee. What did knowing how to spell words even matter? When I was a grown-up I would have a computer at my job like my mom and dad, anyway, and that computer would have a spell-checker on it. So why did I even need to know how to spell?
Plus, I want to be a veterinarian, like the one who was hopefully saving Lady Serena’s life right now. How did knowing how to spell help you to be a better veterinarian?
It was right then that Mrs. Danielson said, “Allie? Are you ready?” and I realized it was my turn again.
I couldn’t believe it! Already? It felt like it had just been my turn. Hadn’t I spelled “anarchy”? I was so tired from getting no sleep from staying up all night worrying, plus from telling ghost stories for hours the night before.
But just like last time, Rosemary was leading all the boys who sat in the last row with her in Mrs. Hunter’s class in chiming, “AL-LIE! AL-LIE!” The whole class, I knew, was counting on me. Me, the New Girl. I couldn’t let them down.
“Allie,” Mrs. Danielson said. “Your word is ‘doctor.’ ‘Doctor.’”
I wiped my sweat-soaked hands on my jeans, feeling relieved. Doctor! That was easy.
“Doctor,” I said. “D-O-C-T—”
Wait. Wait a minute. Was it E-R? Or O-R? I couldn’t remember. I was so tired. Doctor? Or docter? They both sounded right. Which was it?
It had to be E-R. Because that’s where doctors work. In an ER. ER stands for emergency room. So it had to be
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