Competition

This week’s prompt for Sunday Scribblings is Competition
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The Spelling Bee

Sister Alexander stood
in front of our sixth-grade class,
small face,
black olive eyes
mustache like a caterpillar.

We students,
split in half,
lined each side
of the room,
boys in slacks,
button-down shirts,
and string ties.
girls in skirts,
blouses
with new bras
showing through,
and knee socks.

There was a magnet
over there and his name
was Paul Daley;
my eyes just couldn’t
stop resting
on his freckled face
and crew cut.

Slowly, one after another,
words were flung
at the students.
You could see those words
hit them right in the face.
Their eyes would widen
and they’d throw letters
back at the teacher
who would shake her head.
And one after another,
they’d shrug
and sit down.

Eventually, there was only me
and Paul Daley left.
A word would zip to Paul
and he’d spell it correctly;
another would fly to me
and I’d do the same.
Back and forth
Him and me
Him and me

The way I’d been dreaming
ever since third grade
when the sky
of his eyes
turned the sun
in my chest
to butter.

Finally, Sister Alexander
said, “colony”
and I could see
the letters
lining up in my head.
Paul went first
“C O L L O N Y”

A few of the other students gasped
and he knew.
Now, all I had to do
was spell it correctly.
“C O L”
I glanced at Paul.
When had he gotten
so much taller than me?
I saw a cloud
dim the blue;
his smile
flat-lined.
“O N N Y.”

The next word
didn’t matter.
Paul knew it;
I did (n’t).

The boys
cheered him
as I took my seat
amid the understanding
groans
of the girls.

And I sat there,
the stones
from Sister Alexander’s eyes
rattling around
in the shell
of my brain.