Class! Settle down, Ms.Vivian instructed, her voice cutting through the murmur of the students. Next week, there will be a spelling-bee competition, and there will be rewards equal to your performance.
What kind of rewards, Ms. Vivian? someone asked, a ripple of curiosity spreading through the room.
I can't tell you, Ms. Vivian replied, a slight smile, playing on her lips. But what I can say is, extra five point will be added to your performance Tag.
Ms. Vivian, what's a performance Tag? I asked.
Good question. TAG stands for, Talented and Gifted. It's a Tag for students who demonstrate high academic abilities. If you perform well, the point will be added to your overall performance Record.
A collective gasp of excitement filled the air.
When next week? asked a boy at the front desk.
Monday. Any other questions?
Are there any past records on this? Maisie asked. You could already see the competitive fire in her eyes.
Yes, of course, you will find them in the library. No other questions? She paused, Then, that will be all. Ms.Vivian walked out, the click of her heels echoing in the hallway.
Maisie sauntered up to me, a confident smirk spreading across her face. Xverna, are you participating?
Yes, I replied, meeting her gaze. will you?
Of course. I will be the one to take first position, definitely. Her tone left no room for argument.
You think? I scoffed, raising a challenging eyebrow.
Yes, are you challenging me?
If you see it like that, that's game on. The words came out before I fully registered them.
Maisie sighed in disbelief, rolled her eyes slightly. Challenge accepted. We will see who wins.
She's so annoyingly confident, I thought, a smirk playing on my lips. This will be fun.
For the next three days, Maisie and I studied. I found myself drawn to the quiet corners of the study club poring over unfamiliar words. I even braved the dusty archives of past spelling-bee questions, each one a potential hurdle. The library became my temporary sanctuary. Excuse me! Where can I find the spelling-Bee section? I said to the librarian.
Go over to the fifth row, section F, you will find it there, her voice was quiet and gentle.
Thank you. I said with a polite smile.
You are welcome.
At home, the evening blurred into a montage of turning pages and whispered pronunciation as I hunched over my desk, the lamplight casting long shadows across my room. I studied so hard, I could respell all of the words in the past questions.
The week flew so fast, that it's now a weekend. Mom and dad are preparing for Dad's routine hospital checkups.
Xverna, I'm leaving Ben with you. Mom said apologetically
Whhhyyy? I dragged out the question, a familiar groan escaped my lips
I can't take him, because there's a lot to do today. Your Dad has both COPD and his leg checkup routine and I will be too busy to focus on Ben properly, please take care of him. Her eyes held a plea.
Okay Mom, I will take good care of him.
Thanks love. Ben be a good boy, don't stress your sister, okay? Listen to what she tells you.
I will Mom. Ben chirped, his small face earnest.
Okay, good boy. Mom kissed his cheek. There's food in the fridge, microwave before you eat.
Okay, Bye Mom, bye Dad, see you later.
Bye lovelies, Dad said.
Ben, come on, let's go. Ben and I now shared a room. I have to do my assignment and more studying.
Xverna, how is your school like? Do you have swings?
No! Why would my school have swings? It's not for kids, I replied, sitting on my deck.
My school is better than yours.
Yes, your school is better than mine. Now, sit over there.
Why do you have so much homework? His innocent curiosity was starting to wear thin.
Homework help me practice what I learn in class so I can do better.
My colouring is harder.
My colouring is hard too, it's called writing essays. I tried to steer him away from my desk. Could you please go over there and play? Ben! I shouted, when I saw his hands reaching for my backpack , leave my backpack alone.
Why is your backpack so heavy? Do you carry rocks?
Oh my God, I muttered under my breath, the frustration bubbling. My backpack is heavy because I have a lot of books, and notebooks. Stop bothering me.
He shuffled over to my desk. Can you write your name backwards?
I'm too busy learning things you can't even imagine to be writing names backward. I said biting down on my lips, the edge of my patience fraying, with his unending questions.
I can't even write my name forward, he mumbled, a shrug accompanying his words, which unexpectedly made me laugh. Why do you have to learn about boring stuff, like numbers bigger than ten?
Seriously? I groaned, running a hand through my braids. Are you trying to make my brain leak out of my ears?
I'm sorry, he said. His lower lip, trembling slightly, his eyes like a pleading cat. Suddenly an excitement laced his face. But do you get gold stars? I got three yesterday.
Wow, you got three stars? I'm so impressed, I get grades, that actually matters, I replied, trying to keep the my irritation out of my voice.
Why are you being mean? His voice was small, wounded.
Just leave me alone, Ben. I have to study... go play with your dinosaur or something and leave me in peace. Ben walked slowly over to his bed, his shoulders slumped, I felt bad but I have a lot of work to finish, trying to focus on my note.
In a three-story building, a girl sat hunched over her books, her pen scratching furiously across the page. A-c-q-u-i-e-s-c-e, "Acquiesce" meaning, to accept something reluctantly but without protest. Maisie was reciting.
Maisie! Monday is the competition, right? Maisie's mother, Mrs Elizabeth Fatima Ayomide, a slim elegant woman whose beauty held a certain refined sharpness, asked from the doorway.
Yes, mom. Her eyes not leaving the page.
Are you prepared?
Yes mom.
Make sure you take the first position. Don't embarrass our name and reputation. The words although spoken calmly, carried the weight of unspoken pressure.
I wouldn't Mom, she said, finally looking up, a fleeting hint of pain in her eyes.
Her mother watched her for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before silently retreating from the room, leaving Maisie alone with the heavy weight of her expectations.
I have to be the winner, no matter what, she thought. With all determinations she moved back to her books. From that morning until the late hours of evening, she remained sequestered in her room, did not step out of her room nor eat anything.
Where is Maisie? Bernard, Maisie's father asked his wife as he made his way to his room, handing her, his suit jacket and briefcase.
In her room.
And what is she doing?
Studying.... for a spelling-bee competition.
Hmm. His face remained impassive, his well maintained beard adding a touch of distinguished gravity to his features. How long has she been in her room? He paused at the foot of the stairs, his gaze thoughtful.
Since morning.
Tell her to come meet me in my room. He turned, proceeding upstairs, the silence of the house amplifying the weight of his unspoken authority.
Right on it. Fatima made her way to Maisie's room. Your father is back, go to his room.
Okay Mom. She stopped what she was doing, as she walked towards her father's study.
The room was a mute masculinity, dominated by dark brown and black furniture. A dimly lit chandelier cast a warm glow on the polished surface, illuminating the neatly arranged king size bed neatly with its precisely placed pillows. On the far side, a heavy wooden desk held a file, a sleek laptop and a scattering of papers. The room carried smells of wood and a hint of exotic spices.
Maisie! Her father's voice, though not raised, made her flinch. She hadn't noticed him by the large wardrobe, changing.
Good evening, Dad.
Evening. How well have you prepared for this competition?
Very well, Dad.
And you are confident, you will win this? His eyes seemed to bore into her.
Y-yes. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. I'm co-confident. She stuttered, trying not to be frightened by her father's gaze. He studied her for what seemed like an eternity. He then spoke, reaching out two bars of chocolate.
I got these for you. I believe you haven't eaten all afternoon.
Yes. Maisie said, a genuine smile finally breaking through her anxiety. Thank you for the chocolate, Dad. A small spark of warmth flickered within her.
I hope you like it. After you keep those, come down for dinner.
Yes Dad.
Her smile is like a radiant sun, he thought.
A-hem, he coughed clearing his throat. Excuse me, now.
Yes,yes.
At the Black House.
Dad, how did your checkups go? Theo asked, lounging on the couch facing the TV.
It went well, Doctor Eden said, I'll be using my prosthetic soon and starting the therapies shortly.
That's great news.
How are your new colleagues treating you? Hope they are nice?
Yes, they take the work seriously and their attitude is great.
Thank God. Not everyone are lucky to have good coworkers after a promotion.
I know.
How about Vina, when last did you hear from her, mom asked.
Last week.
Okay, she has not been able to visit much. Since she became a full staff member.