No Small Victory (24 page)

“Cat got your tongue?” Dad asked.

Bonnie laughed.

“No, Dad. I was just thinking about a spelling bee.” Then she told Dad all about it, but she didn't mention the cash prize.

She'd keep that hope to herself for now.

TWENTY-TWO:
THE SPELLING BEE

The evening of June 29, 1937, was clear and bright. A breeze blew fresh and light through the auditorium in the old town hall as Bonnie and her mother stepped in through a side door. Dad was still tying Duke up in the shed, but when he arrived, he would be surprised. The place was packed with folks from Keene, Lang, and surrounding areas. The community concert had already begun, so Bonnie and her mother stood at the door, looking for a place to sit. Mum held her new blue crocheted purse proudly under her arm while Bonnie smoothed down the front of her white cotton middy.

Just then, Slinky jumped up from his seat near the front and joined Bonnie. “Our school has the front two rows,” he said. “Just follow me.”

Bonnie looked up at her mother, who nodded. “Go on. I'll wait here for Dad.”

Bonnie hurried along after Slinky. He motioned her to sit in the second row. There was Archie, right by the aisle, and Angela and Marianne were next. Marianne squeezed over to make a place on the bench. Bonnie stepped along in front of Archie to sit next to Marianne, and then there was another wholesale slide down the row as Slinky plunked himself down next to Archie.

“Whatever kept you?” Marianne whispered. “The Junior Spelling Bee comes right near the first. I was in a dither thinking you wouldn't make it in time.”

Bonnie just shook her head and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She and Mum had tried hard to finish all the chores before Dad came in from the field, but there was still milking left to do. And it took them longer than most to get to the town hall because they'd come in the horse and buggy. There was no money to get the car going this spring.

As everyone had expected, Mr. McDougall had chosen Bonnie to represent the school for the Junior competition. She would be competing against Keene and three other rural schools—Rice Lake, Indian River, and Westwood.

Bonnie could feel her cheeks flushing as she waited. So much depended upon her winning the prize money.
Please,
God,
she prayed silently.
Help me win.

Marianne's sister Maribelle was belting out “Danny Boy” on the stage, accompanied by her mother on the piano. Both were dressed in purple chiffon with ruffles. But Bonnie wasn't really listening or watching. She kept shifting in her seat and twisting the clean, white handkerchief her mother had stuffed into the pocket of her skirt. “You'll do just fine, Bonnie. I know you will,” Marianne said, to calm her down.

Now the audience was clapping loudly as Maribelle curtsied. She didn't look one bit nervous. Bonnie cleared her throat and waited.

Mr. Hubbs, smiling widely, stepped up to the lectern at the front of the stage. As master of ceremonies, he squinted at his list and opened his mouth to announce the next event. But the audience was still clapping and shouting, “Encore!”

So Mr. Hubbs stepped aside to allow his daughter and wife to come back up on stage. This time, Maribelle launched into “The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond.” That was a fine one to pick, thought Bonnie. She imagined herself, Bonnie, running off into the night to Loch Lomond because she'd lost the spelling bee. It almost made her wish she'd never been chosen for the competition.

Bonnie clutched the edge of the bench and looked down at the floor, overwhelmed by nerves. No doubt she'd lose—right in front of her parents, her school and the whole community. Surely, she could have thought of a better way to earn some money.

Finally, Maribelle was seated and Mr. Hubbs was at the lectern again. “And now the Junior Spelling Bee. Will all the contestants please come to the stage?”

“Show them up, Bonnie!” Slinky said, a bit too loudly, as Bonnie gathered up her courage and made her way to the aisle. Bonnie flushed, hoping not too many had heard the cheer.

Mr. Hubbs continued. “We are honoured this evening to have the well-known principal, Dr. Kenner, from Peterborough Collegiate and Vocational School, to adjudicate this competition. Dr. Kenner was already at our school to pick up the entrance examinations written by our graduating class so they can be marked by teachers chosen by the Ontario Ministry of Education. We're very pleased that he's agreed to stay with us a little longer to adjudicate both the Junior and the Senior spelling bees. The Junior includes Grades Four and under; the Senior, Grades Eight and under.”

Dr. Kenner, dressed in a fine brown suit and yellow plaid tie, stepped up to the stage as the audience clapped. He shook hands with Mr. Hubbs.

“It is indeed a great honour for me to be here this evening. I do see how interested your community must be in your school activities, as so many are here to participate tonight and to bid farewell to Mr. McDougall. Lang's loss will be Peterborough's gain when he continues his career in our fair city in September.” Then he looked down at the little brown spellers on the lectern.

By now, two girls from the other side of the auditorium and one boy from the middle had come up on stage beside Bonnie. But Bonnie barely glanced at them. She twisted her handkerchief so hard, she felt as if it was going to rip in two. Then she looked down directly at the Lang kids in the first two rows, where Angela and Marianne were beaming proudly up at her. Even Tom and Slinky were jumpy with excitement. A surge of courage seemed to bolster Bonnie for the moment.

Next, she glanced over to where Mum and Dad were sitting. They, too, were staring up at her with expectation in their eyes. They knew she was a good speller. Maybe this would be another small victory! And even if she didn't win, maybe Mum would see that Bonnie was trying to be brave. But she didn't feel very brave.

Then she stared at Dr. Kenner, wondering which spellers he'd use. Unfortunately, they were all the same colour, so it was hard to tell. But, of course, it would be
The Canadian
Speller Book One
because it covered Grades Three to Six.

Mr. Hubbs turned and smiled at the entrants, and Bonnie began to relax a little. “Let us hold all applause until the competition is over, for we must remember that these pupils have all been chosen from their schools as top spellers. We don't want to distract them from doing their best. All do deserve our applause—but at the end.” Mr. Hubbs then nodded to Dr. Kenner, who began reading out the words to be spelled.

At first, they were easy. Bonnie couldn't believe that the boy and one girl went down on
cracker—
not really a difficult word at all. The judge nodded at her.

“
Cracker
. C-r-a-c-k-e-r,” Bonnie said easily.

Soon, she and another girl, named Jennie, were the only ones left. They both knew that Dr. Kenner would now be reading out words higher than their grade level. Bonnie was glad. She'd taken most of the Grade Five words the previous spring. She suspected that the other girl had never seen them before.

“
Jumping
,” said the adjudicator, turning to Jennie. That was a Grade Four word. It had appeared in the spelling list just last week. Bonnie sighed. Maybe she wouldn't win after all. Jennie spelled it quickly and correctly.

“
Chopping
,” said Dr. Kenner, his grey-green eyes looking straight through Bonnie.

Tricky, thought Bonnie. She knew that
jumping
did not double the “p” but
chopping
did—she recognized the word from the Grade Five list she'd studied back in Massassaga. “
Chopping
,” Bonnie began, then drew a big breath. Immediately, she launched into a major coughing spell. Dr. Kenner raised both eyebrows as he waited.

Finally, Bonnie squeaked out: “
Chopping
. C-h-o-p-p-in-g.” Where did that cough come from? Bonnie wondered in a panic. She hadn't coughed in a long time. It was that old nervous habit of hers. How horrible. But she must drop it from her thoughts. If ever she needed to think, it was now!

“Correct, Bonnie.”

The words continued:
women, weighed, forgotten, addition,
geography, handkerchief, success
. There were more from the Grade Five list than the Grade Four.

“And now, Jennie,” said Dr. Kenner.

Would it be another Grade Five word? Bonnie wondered. She hoped so.

Dr. Kenner cleared his throat. “
February
.”

Bonnie knew that was a tricky word, since most people pronounced it “Feb-u-ary.” But she was not fooled and could hardly wait for Jennie to answer.

“
Febuary
. F-e-b-u-a-r-y,” said Jennie.

“I'm sorry, you are wrong—but the competition is not over. Bonnie, please spell
February.
”

“
February
. F-e-b-r-u-a-r-y,” said Bonnie. That felt good, but there was still a long way to go. Everyone knew that the second one to spell a given word had an advantage, so she would be given another word to spell correctly as well. Then, if Bonnie made a mistake on that second word and Jennie spelled it the right way, the two girls would be tied for winner. But if Bonnie spelled the second word correctly, she would win the competition. Bonnie took in a deep breath as she waited. She hadn't started coughing…yet.

“Bonnie, your word is
carbohydrate
.”

Bonnie smiled. She'd met this word in the Grade Five speller. “
Carbohydrate
. C-a-r-b-o-h-y-d-r-a-t-e.”

“Correct!” said Dr. Kenner. “We have our winner!”

The audience erupted in applause. Archie and Slinky let out a couple of loud cheers.

As for Bonnie, she could hardly believe that this had really happened. She knew she could win but after she got up there, she'd been afraid her mind would go blank and she would ruin it all. But she hadn't! Slowly, a feeling of delight—and relief—crept over her.

When the clapping died down, Dr. Kenner spoke again. “You have all been fine participants and good spellers. Mr. Hubbs, I believe, has a ribbon for each of you.”

Mr. Hubbs came forward and pinned a ribbon on each child's left shoulder. Then he gave Bonnie an envelope, which Bonnie knew had a hard coin in it. She felt it and was certain it was a twenty-five-cent piece.

The pupils stepped down to more cheers.

Mr. Hubbs spoke again. “We are now going to continue with the Senior Spelling Bee, since Dr. Kenner has kindly agreed to judge it as well. Then he will be leaving us to travel home to Peterborough. Would the Senior contestants please come up now?”

While two girls came up from the left side and one boy from the right, Mr. Hubbs stepped down from the stage and came right over to Bonnie. “This competition is for Grade Eight and under,” he said. “If you wish, you may compete in this spelling bee too.”

“No, sir,” Bonnie shook her head. She was wanting only to go and sit down between her friends. Her knees were shaking too much to stand there any longer. Best she make it quietly to her seat. “But thank you.”

“Well, you'll have a few minutes to think about it,” said Mr. Hubbs. “Keene's contestant has only just arrived, so it won't start for a few minutes.”

“Why not give it a try, Bonnie?” Archie whispered.

Mr. Hubbs was eyeing a boy who'd come in the side door a moment ago. The Keene teacher pointed him toward the platform. Bonnie, Archie, and Slinky all looked over at the same time. The contestant was Henry, one of the three boys who'd nearly drowned Slinky at the Mill Pond!

Archie and Slinky sat up straight, as if struck by lightning.

“He should be ruled out!” Archie hissed indignantly.

“Or struck out!” Slinky growled, turning to Bonnie and giving her a knowing look.

Bonnie stared back in disbelief. Slinky was asking her to beat that boy! She would like to. But what if she lost and he won? Wouldn't that make it worse? Then, as she stared at the ruffian, she realized she must stand up to him—for Lang School, for all her friends there now, for Archie, and for Slinky, whom he'd nearly drowned.

In that split second, she had made her decision. Bonnie got up. She didn't feel shaky anymore. Not even thinking about her cough or her twisted handkerchief this time, she took her place beside the other pupils.

Dr. Kenner announced, “This competition is for Grade Eight
and under
. So we have encouraged the winner of the first competition to join us.”

As before, Dr. Kenner began with simpler words and then moved on to the more difficult ones. One girl spelled out on
rheumatism
. But Bonnie spelled it the right way. The other girl went down on
interpretation
, but Henry spelled it correctly.

So Bonnie and Henry were now left to battle it out one-on-one. Bonnie was almost a head shorter than the skinny Keene boy, but she didn't look at him or anyone as the new words came. Instead, she focused on each word in her mind's eye. The words flew back and forth:
masquerade, fascinate,
collateral.
There was deep silence in the old town hall as each word was presented.

“
Scissors,
” said Dr. Kenner. Bonnie wished she'd had that one. She could have spelled that as easily as rolling off a log.

“
Scissors
. S-i-s-s-o-r-s,” said Henry.

Dr. Kenner shook his head. Then he turned to Bonnie.

“
Scissors
. S-c-i-s-s-o-r-s.” Bonnie spelled the word correctly.

But she still had to spell one more correctly.

“
Crocheting
,” said Dr. Kenner.

“
Crocheting
. C-r-o-c-h-e-t-i-n-g,” Bonnie said without hesitation. She may not have been good at cutting patterns with Mum's scissors or at crocheting doilies, but she knew how to spell the words! She'd seen them many times in her mother's pattern books.

“We have our winner—our two-time winner—Bonnie Brown from Lang School. Congratulations, Bonnie, and congratulations to all our students who have done so well.”