it by biting my tongue, but it shoots straight up my esophagus, and a noise comes out of me that sounds like a hee-hawing donkey. An image of Noah and Joshua joined at the top of their heads keeps flashing in my mind. I shut my eyes as tightly as I can, trying to squeeze the image out of my head, but the hee-hawing gets louder. A little bit of pee leaks into my panties. Oh, my God. I’m not going to be able to stop laughing. It’s like all the nonsense inside of me is percolating to the outside, and I can barely see a damn thing for the tears pouring out of my eyes. Miss Sophia is standing in front of me with her hands on my shoulders, shushing me in a sweet voice. “Shh. It’s going to be all right. Just breathe, Karlene, breathe. You need to get ahold of yourself.”
I focus on her face and breathe deeply, trying to force the whole gob of laughter out of me all at once, but it comes out in shrieky spurts, then tapers off into a few hiccups before it vanishes. I close my eyes and sit there, breathing in and out. Miss Sophia hands me a tissue. There’s not one snicker in the entire auditorium. The silence is so damn beautiful.
I open my eyes. Miss Sophia smiles and hands me a fresh tissue. “You okay now?”
I nod my head. The auditorium is still filled with absolute silence.
“Thank you. I’m ready to continue,” I say, and then blow my nose real good.
Miss Sophia nods and walks back to the podium. “Pardon the interruption, Miss Harper. Now, will you please spell
craniopagus?”
Not one syllable sounds funny to me. Hallelujah. Another miracle.
Cherry spells the word correctly, sits beside me, and gives me an encouraging pat on the back, acting dignified as a champion. Trent Thomas misspells
amoebocyte
, walks from the stage, and wanders right on out of the auditorium. Benny Gilroy offers a totally original combination of letters for
facetiously
, and acts relieved to hear the bell. He nearly skips from the stage, obviously unaware that
facetiously
is famous for being the shortest word that has all the vowels in order: Even the sometimes
y
is at the end.
Miss Sophia asks Cherry and me to stand up, and we battle it out, spelling
irrevocable, bhakti, fictioneering, gudgeon, jettison, chanteuse, smorgasbord, predilection, otitis, googolplex
. Finally, Cherry stumbles over
pinaceous
. Spells it
pinacious
. The bell rings, and Cherry drops her head and groans. Poor thing got foiled by those damn
e’
s and
i’
s.
“Miss … Bridges … will … you … please … spell …
pinaceous?”
Everything has slowed way down. My temples throb from all the blood surging around in my brain. I can’t feel my skin. Or my skin can’t feel me. I feel as if I’ve vanished except for my eyes and brain. I keep myself from looking at the Harrisons, but I can’t resist looking over at Mama, who’s sitting proudly between Daddy and Kelly. I’m thrilled they’re all here. Thrilled that Kelly is such a good sponsor and talked Daddy into going back to AA.
Damn
. I need to focus. I force myself to erase everything from my mind like Mrs. Harrison taught me.
“Will you please repeat the word, Miss Sophia?”
She repeats the word. It hangs in the air for a while.
I focus on the vibration of the word against my eardrums. Then I relax and let the letters make themselves into a word in my mind. Then I examine it and see if it feels right. It feels exactly right, so I spell it:
“P-i-n-a-c-e-o-u-s.”
“That is correct, Miss Bridges.” Miss Sophia’s words come out at regular speed. Poor Cherry moans. I smell the salty scent of despair leaking from her pores.
“Now, will you please spell
her—easy—ark?”
Miss Sophia says.
It’s a word I’ve never heard. My heart feels like a cartoon heart thumping right out of my chest. “May I have the definition, please?”
“It means the founder or leader of a heresy. Someone with unorthodox practices or beliefs.”
Hmm. Heresy. Unorthodox practices or beliefs
. I breathe
I focus on her face and breathe deeply, trying to force the whole gob of laughter out of me all at once, but it comes out in shrieky spurts, then tapers off into a few hiccups before it vanishes. I close my eyes and sit there, breathing in and out. Miss Sophia hands me a tissue. There’s not one snicker in the entire auditorium. The silence is so damn beautiful.
I open my eyes. Miss Sophia smiles and hands me a fresh tissue. “You okay now?”
I nod my head. The auditorium is still filled with absolute silence.
“Thank you. I’m ready to continue,” I say, and then blow my nose real good.
Miss Sophia nods and walks back to the podium. “Pardon the interruption, Miss Harper. Now, will you please spell
craniopagus?”
Not one syllable sounds funny to me. Hallelujah. Another miracle.
Cherry spells the word correctly, sits beside me, and gives me an encouraging pat on the back, acting dignified as a champion. Trent Thomas misspells
amoebocyte
, walks from the stage, and wanders right on out of the auditorium. Benny Gilroy offers a totally original combination of letters for
facetiously
, and acts relieved to hear the bell. He nearly skips from the stage, obviously unaware that
facetiously
is famous for being the shortest word that has all the vowels in order: Even the sometimes
y
is at the end.
Miss Sophia asks Cherry and me to stand up, and we battle it out, spelling
irrevocable, bhakti, fictioneering, gudgeon, jettison, chanteuse, smorgasbord, predilection, otitis, googolplex
. Finally, Cherry stumbles over
pinaceous
. Spells it
pinacious
. The bell rings, and Cherry drops her head and groans. Poor thing got foiled by those damn
e’
s and
i’
s.
“Miss … Bridges … will … you … please … spell …
pinaceous?”
Everything has slowed way down. My temples throb from all the blood surging around in my brain. I can’t feel my skin. Or my skin can’t feel me. I feel as if I’ve vanished except for my eyes and brain. I keep myself from looking at the Harrisons, but I can’t resist looking over at Mama, who’s sitting proudly between Daddy and Kelly. I’m thrilled they’re all here. Thrilled that Kelly is such a good sponsor and talked Daddy into going back to AA.
Damn
. I need to focus. I force myself to erase everything from my mind like Mrs. Harrison taught me.
“Will you please repeat the word, Miss Sophia?”
She repeats the word. It hangs in the air for a while.
I focus on the vibration of the word against my eardrums. Then I relax and let the letters make themselves into a word in my mind. Then I examine it and see if it feels right. It feels exactly right, so I spell it:
“P-i-n-a-c-e-o-u-s.”
“That is correct, Miss Bridges.” Miss Sophia’s words come out at regular speed. Poor Cherry moans. I smell the salty scent of despair leaking from her pores.
“Now, will you please spell
her—easy—ark?”
Miss Sophia says.
It’s a word I’ve never heard. My heart feels like a cartoon heart thumping right out of my chest. “May I have the definition, please?”
“It means the founder or leader of a heresy. Someone with unorthodox practices or beliefs.”
Hmm. Heresy. Unorthodox practices or beliefs
. I breathe
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