Ms. Washington called it “the Spelling Bee’s Knees.” Everyone else messed up on their words except Rocko and me. We stood at the front of the classroom under the hanging solar system and in front of the instructions on how to write an essay. Rocko and I were supposed to each spell three words at a time until someone messed up. Ms. Washington picked a word out of the basket. “Rocko, how do you spell able? Use it in a sentence, please.” “Able. A-B-L-E. Some people are able to beat others to the fence in Super Sport Baseball Cleat Camp, and they are also able to go to Hawaii for vacation.” I clenched my fist under the table. “Correct,” Ms. Washington said, reaching into the basket. “Now please spell fragile.” “Fragile. F-R-A-G-I-L-E. Some people’s bones are more fragile than other people’s bones.” I bit my lip, which can be dangerous when your front teeth are as big as mine. “Correct, Rocko,” said Ms. Washington, picking another word. “And now please spell temper.”
