my eyes closed, watching my red flaming lips make the sounds. When David Cazola bumped into me and said, “Get moving,” I scrambled along behind him. I didn’t have the slightest idea how to spell
pejorative.
I didn’t know I was moving or knocking against people; I was hearing myself say, “Please use it in a sentence.” I tripped at the door on my shoelace and went sliding down on all fours as I thought, P-E-J . . .
After waiting ten minutes we were allowed back in. Mrs. Golden announced to the parents that having to stand up while the alarm went off would tangle up anyone’s nerves and that I would be awarded a free round. David Cazola immediately went down on
unrequited.
Matt was up next. He had to spell the dangling word. He didn’t have to stop to think. My turn came and as I stood up I felt for my pin, for the luck; I felt, my hands went spastic, they flittered all over my chest, my neck, my face—my pin wasn’t there any more. My heart instantly shriveled to the size of a raisin. I had to clutch at my throat and croak, “Wait.” I had to look all around me back and forth, and back and forth. I was like beagle dogs when they think they smell a squirrel. They don’t have control over their body parts or their hoarse yelps.
“Miss Grey, please step up to the center,” I heard Mrs. Golden say. It was my turn. The free round was over. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks and I felt the hole where the pin used to be. I knew my luck couldn’t last now. I knew I was being punished, for among other things, wishing Missy Baker a scarred-up face.
Sandwich
was my word. It was easy but I stalled for time. I said, “Please use it in a sentence.” I held my throat like my head wasn’t screwed on tight.
“You have a delicious sandwich for lunch,” Mrs. Golden said. I could hear the parents laughing at me for asking for a sentence.
“Sandwich.” I tried to pronounce it so carefully. There was no hope for me since my vocal cords had decided to change jobs, see if they liked being ear lobes instead. I whispered the letters “ S-A-N-D-W-I-T-C-H .” For one second I thought I had it right. I wasn’t punished after all, but Mrs. Golden said, “I’m sorry, please be seated.”
When I got to May way up at the top of the bleachers I was crying so hard it was impossible to stop. She took one look at me and said, “Where’s my pin?”
“I don’t know,” I wailed at her, so that everyone heard me. I was hoping she saw it fall off of me somewhere along the line. The latch on it was too weak for fire alarms and scraping your knees and praying and spelling. I could tell May was dying to get her hands on a dish towel so she could wring it. She picked violently at the knees of the orange slacks she always wore. I couldn’t figure out how the pin had fallen off, plus I went down on
sandwich.
I wanted her to strangle me right then, get my life over with.
Afterwards, while everyone cleared out, I sat on the bleacher with my head down and I felt a hand at my back. I didn’t recognize the feel of it and I had to look up. It was Aunt Sid, come forty miles to see me spell. When I saw her I burst into tears all over again.
“You were wonderful,” she said. If I had had the words I would have told her that lie stank worse than a pig fart.
I couldn’t speak to her. I heard nothing she said. When she was gone I noticed that there was a bag on my lap. I picked it up and carried it to the car.
All I wanted was May to be proud of me, to be her smartest daughter, and for Matt to turn a hideous green color at my stardom—and what did I do but go down on the easiest word in the English language and lose May’s favorite jewel, worth millions of dollars. Afterwards I had looked everywhere. I only saw Diane Crawford laughing at me, at the way I crawled around, feeling the floor like I didn’t have sight. Matt was the first alternate. He went down on
aforementioned.
He must have temporarily slipped a cog. Still,
pejorative.
I didn’t know I was moving or knocking against people; I was hearing myself say, “Please use it in a sentence.” I tripped at the door on my shoelace and went sliding down on all fours as I thought, P-E-J . . .
After waiting ten minutes we were allowed back in. Mrs. Golden announced to the parents that having to stand up while the alarm went off would tangle up anyone’s nerves and that I would be awarded a free round. David Cazola immediately went down on
unrequited.
Matt was up next. He had to spell the dangling word. He didn’t have to stop to think. My turn came and as I stood up I felt for my pin, for the luck; I felt, my hands went spastic, they flittered all over my chest, my neck, my face—my pin wasn’t there any more. My heart instantly shriveled to the size of a raisin. I had to clutch at my throat and croak, “Wait.” I had to look all around me back and forth, and back and forth. I was like beagle dogs when they think they smell a squirrel. They don’t have control over their body parts or their hoarse yelps.
“Miss Grey, please step up to the center,” I heard Mrs. Golden say. It was my turn. The free round was over. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks and I felt the hole where the pin used to be. I knew my luck couldn’t last now. I knew I was being punished, for among other things, wishing Missy Baker a scarred-up face.
Sandwich
was my word. It was easy but I stalled for time. I said, “Please use it in a sentence.” I held my throat like my head wasn’t screwed on tight.
“You have a delicious sandwich for lunch,” Mrs. Golden said. I could hear the parents laughing at me for asking for a sentence.
“Sandwich.” I tried to pronounce it so carefully. There was no hope for me since my vocal cords had decided to change jobs, see if they liked being ear lobes instead. I whispered the letters “ S-A-N-D-W-I-T-C-H .” For one second I thought I had it right. I wasn’t punished after all, but Mrs. Golden said, “I’m sorry, please be seated.”
When I got to May way up at the top of the bleachers I was crying so hard it was impossible to stop. She took one look at me and said, “Where’s my pin?”
“I don’t know,” I wailed at her, so that everyone heard me. I was hoping she saw it fall off of me somewhere along the line. The latch on it was too weak for fire alarms and scraping your knees and praying and spelling. I could tell May was dying to get her hands on a dish towel so she could wring it. She picked violently at the knees of the orange slacks she always wore. I couldn’t figure out how the pin had fallen off, plus I went down on
sandwich.
I wanted her to strangle me right then, get my life over with.
Afterwards, while everyone cleared out, I sat on the bleacher with my head down and I felt a hand at my back. I didn’t recognize the feel of it and I had to look up. It was Aunt Sid, come forty miles to see me spell. When I saw her I burst into tears all over again.
“You were wonderful,” she said. If I had had the words I would have told her that lie stank worse than a pig fart.
I couldn’t speak to her. I heard nothing she said. When she was gone I noticed that there was a bag on my lap. I picked it up and carried it to the car.
All I wanted was May to be proud of me, to be her smartest daughter, and for Matt to turn a hideous green color at my stardom—and what did I do but go down on the easiest word in the English language and lose May’s favorite jewel, worth millions of dollars. Afterwards I had looked everywhere. I only saw Diane Crawford laughing at me, at the way I crawled around, feeling the floor like I didn’t have sight. Matt was the first alternate. He went down on
aforementioned.
He must have temporarily slipped a cog. Still,
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