Godwin Okojie II

FLYNN BARNES

When Flynn woke up the next day, he felt like he was not just going to experience another day. It was the beginning of a journey. 

A journey that he was not going to let his mom in on just yet. 

He smiled.

But that smile disappeared when he heard the zipping of a bag being opened.

He sat up almost immediately and watched as his mom was folding clothes. 

The sight of it made his heart drop. 

How am I supposed to participate in a spelling bee In early November if we’re not even going to be here at the end of the week? Flynn thought. I’ve got to convince her to let me stay…without telling her about the school spelling bee…but how?

“Mom,” Flynn said quietly.

Flynn’s mom froze. “Yeah?” she answered, too quickly.

Flynn swallowed. “Are you packing already?”

 There was a pause before she answered, but it was long enough to tell him everything. “Yes,” she said, before she continued folding her clothes. 

If Flynn waited, she might finish packing. If she finished packing, it wouldn’t be long after school was over that they’d leave again.

“I don’t want to go,” Flynn said quietly. 

Flynn’s mom froze once again. “Flynn, please,” she said, just please hear me out. 

Flynn’s mom sighed. 

“Okay.” Flynn took a deep breath. “I know you’re scared. And you’re sad that I’m not getting treated how I should be. That we’re not getting treated how we should be.” Flynn took a breath. “And I’m sorry that I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have done that.” Before Flynn’s mom could respond, Flynn continued, “I know what’s been happening to me must freak you out. But we can’t just keep running every single time something weird or bad happens. And honestly, I don’t think things are as bad as you think.”

Flynn could see his mom’s jaw tighten. “This isn’t just weird. And after everything that has happened, you still believe that?”
“But I haven’t gotten seriously hurt. Nobody’s followed us. And nobody weird has shown up,” Flynn countered.

Flynn’s mom said, “But you’ve gotten hurt.”

“Not seriously yet,” Flynn said.

“But you don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“I know,” Flynn said. “But I also know we can’t keep starting over.”

 Flynn’s mom opened her mouth, then closed it again. 

“This is probably going to sound insane,” Flynn said, “but I think it was yesterday that I finally figured that I feel like I belong somewhere. Just a little. For the first time in a while. You said this time could be different. You said we could try. I’m not asking we stay forever. Just for the rest of this school year. Let me finish it. Please.”

 Flynn’s mom rubbed her face with both hands.

“I know that I’m asking a lot,” Flynn continued, “but I can be more careful than I was before.” He briefly stopped himself after that, the words feeling wrong after he just signed up for a school spelling bee. “Maybe this year won’t be normal,” he decided to say next instead, “but maybe it’ll be just better than before.”

 Flynn’s mom took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll stay. Through the school year. But,” she added holding up a finger, “we’re going to stay as careful as possible. Tell me if anything new comes up. Don’t keep stuff from me. Even if it’s good. Even if it’s bad. You tell me.”

Flynn nodded quickly. “I will, I promise.”

 Flynn’s mom put on a tired smile and nodded. “One year. Please don’t make me regret it.”

Flynn nodded back. He hoped that he wouldn’t. 

The days began to blur together after that.

September turned into October. Or as Flynn practiced for the school spelling bee in various ways. Going to the library. Going through several books. Going through the dictionaries. Rewriting out words. Spelling them out. The notebook came out first. Then the pencil. Then the words. Always the words.

He did his usual copying like he always had, but he started grouping them.

Prefix. Roots. Patterns.

But all the while, Flynn never told his mom what he was doing when he was engaged in these practice activities.

At least not the true reason of it. 

 One of those days, Tara came up to him and said that she saw Flynn’s name in the board. And she was so happy. So she decided to sign up. That same day.

She offered to spell together. But Flynn refused, saying that this was a competition. But he said that he was happy for her.

Tara nodded, accepting this. 

But the days kept starting and stopping.

Words piled up in his notebook. The calendar pages flipped. October crept closer.

And with it…the spelling bee.

It was after school, and Flynn wasn’t 100% sure he was dreaming as he stood in a gym that smelled like floor cleaner and old banners. Rows of chairs faced a small microphone stand at the front. A banner was hung above and it read:

MAYVILLE JUNIOR HIGH SPELLING BEE

His mom wasn’t there. She thought she was there to study for a test. Which was technically true, because the school spelling bee was one of the most challenging tests he was taking.

But the same could not be said for other families as he watched them filter in.

She saw Tara arrive laughing, walking with who must have been her mom and dad, with her dad carrying a camera. But a girl that was taller than Tara and looked at least two years older than Tara—-her sister, Flynn guessed, was walking her with too. And Flynn looked to that the older girl whispered something to Tara that made her roll her eyes but smiled.

Flynn smiled sadly. The family looked normal. Whole. They didn’t look like they had anything or anyone missing or gone from their lives.

He closed his eyes. Focus, Flynn, he thought. One step at a time.

But Flynn looked at Tara and her family one more time, hoping that she wouldn’t notice him.

But just like in the library three months ago, Tara looked up and spotted Flynn. And her already bright expression brightened even harder, if that was even possible. She waved to Flynn and walked over to him with a smile.

“Hi, Flynn!” Tara said. “I’m so glad we’re here together! Even if we’re competing.”

Flynn nodded. “Yeah. Feels like I’m dreaming.”

“Are your parents here?” Tara asked.

“No. My mom doesn’t know that I’m doing this. She thinks I’m studying for a test,” Flynn answered.

Tara nodded, her expression sympathetic. “And your dad?”

Flynn’s stomach dropped, his eyes wide. His mom didn’t even talk about his dad, very often. “I—I don’t know where he is.”

Tara nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. But I’m sure both of your parents would be proud if they were here. Are you nervous? And doing ok?”

His mind on the letters, the packing, and his mom’s voice haunting him like a ghost, Flynn half-lied, “I’ll be okay.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed for a second before softening immediately. “Ok. Well, good luck.”

“Good luck to you too,” Flynn said. 

Tara smiled before returning to her family. 

As Flynn watched her go, he felt like he was watching himself in an alternate timeline. At least he wished that was possible. He wondered what it would be like to live in that alternate reality, one where both of his parents  could show up and a sibling teased you, and all of it could happen without fear of danger.

Flynn closed his eyes. One step at a time, Barnes, he thought.

A teacher clapped her hands a couple of minutes later. “If I could have everyone’s attention please! Let’s get started!”

The gym quieted, and the school librarian came into view. She had a hat in her hand. 

“To kick things off this wonderful afternoon,” Mrs. Jennison began, “each of you spellers is going to draw numbers to determine order.”

Not long after, Flynn was lined up, even he waited until a few students, including Tara, had gotten in line but getting there himself. But it didn’t take long for him to reach the bucket, slip his fingers in, grab a folded paper, pull it out, and walk to one of the chairs for the spellers, sitting down.

Once he was seated, he unfolded the paper, slowly, carefully.

11.

He wasn’t first.

But he didn’t think he was last either.

He looked to his right. Tara was sitting across from him. With a little bit of misgivings, he lifted his number for Tara to see. She looked at Flynn with wide eyes and nodded. Before lifting up hers, so he could see. 

12.

Right after his. Almost as if it was fate that he was in this competition with her. That they were meant to stay together till the end. 

Once everyone was seated, Mrs. Jennison cleared her throat. “Excellent! Now we begin!”

The first round and waiting process for Flynn to spell his first word in front of the people began. 

They were comparatively basic words, so the first four spellers got their words spelled right. “Rickety”. “Barmet”. “Doubt”. “Mountain”. Words that felt like they were warming the whole room up. 

This streak of basic words getting spelled right ended with the fifth contestant, who misspelled “Missouri”.

Flynn watched as contestants 6, 8, and 9 lost, with contestant 9 running towards the audience in tears, getting hugged by her mother.

But Flynn quickly looked away, not wanting to think about the tender moment too much.

Contestant ten spelled the word “explicate”.

Then—

“Contestant number eleven, Flynn Barnes.”

Flynn stood up and walked towards the microphone, feeling all of the eyes on him, but he still managed to focus.

He looked at Mrs. Jennison, who glanced at her list, before looking up at Flynn. “Your word is trapeze.”

Flynn swallowed. The irony of this being his first word was not lost on him, given how he was feeling. “Trapeze. T-R-A-P-E-Z-E.”

Mrs. Jennison nodded. “That is correct.”

Flynn walked back to his chair. And on his way back, Flynn saw that Tara had raised a hand the minute he got close up, giving him a smile that Flynn was not sure why. He accepted the high five anyway.

“Contestant twelve,” Mrs. Jennison said. “Tara Quint.”

Tara stood up.

Flynn gave her a smile. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” Tara whispered.

Flynn watched as Tara walked to the microphone.

“Your word is reconcile,” Mrs. Jennison said a second after Tara arrived.

Flynn’s eyes were on Tara and her confident expression and posture. She’s got this, he thought.

“Reconcile,” she said. “R-E-C-O-N-C-I-L-E. Reconcile.” And with each letter, Flynn watched as Tara tapped her hand against her side, the letters lining up perfectly with the tapping.

“Correct.”

Flynn nodded. She’s still in the game, he thought.

Tara returned to her chair, and as she sat, she glanced at Flynn with a quick, nervous smile.

Flynn nodded once, giving her a thumbs-up.

Round by round, the room thinned.

Kids misspelled.

Kids sat down to be with their parents in the audience.

But it came down to be Flynn and Tara, who kept making it through too, even though she stumbled on a word, hesitated, asked for a sentence, then spelled it perfectly anyway.

And after that, Flynn released a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Your word is anomaly,” Mrs. Jennison said when it was Flynn’s turn again.

Flynn blinked once but he spelled the word. “Anomaly. A-N-O-M-A-L-Y. Anomaly.”

“Correct.”

He sat.

And immediately, Tara 

“Contestant twelve. Tara Quint.” 

And immediately, Tara walked to the microphone.

“Your word is venerate.”

Tara’s eyes widened and her confident posture disappeared, making Flynn wince.

“May I have the definition?” Tara asked.

Mrs. Jennison gave it.

Tara nodded, her eyes looked like she was looking past the audience near wherever her family sat.

Tara took a shaky breath. “Venerate. V-E-N-U-R-A-T-E. Venerate.”

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Mrs. Jennison said, her voice softer and more disappointed than with the other competitors. “That is incorrect. The correct spelling is V-E-N-E-R-A-T-E.”

Tara’s face crumpled and she quickly stepped away from the microphone and walked towards the audience section.

Flynn looked away, not wanting to look at Tara in her state.

“Flynn Barnes,” Mrs. Jennison said, voice rising again. “If you spell this next word correctly, you will be the Mayville Junior High School Spelling Bee champion.”

Flynn stood, his legs and his heart heavy.

He walked to the microphone.

Mrs. Jennison looked at him, almost kindly.

“Your word is ephemeral,” she said.

He swallowed hard.

Voices rose in his head all at once like a battle.

His mom: No attention. No record.

Mr. Warren: One step.

Dylan:  I can make things better. Or worse.

Mr. Warren: One word.

His mom: Whether it’s good or bad, you tell me.

Mr. Warren: One round.

Flynn breathed in and out.

He silenced everything so that he could hear his own thoughts and his voice.

“Ephemeral. E-P-H-E-M-E-R-A-L. Ephemeral,” Flynn said.

Everything went quiet.

Then—-

Mrs. Jennison’s smile widened.

“That is correct.”

Applause erupted.

Flynn blinked, still stunned.

He had done it.

He had won.

And for a few seconds, he almost let himself feel proud.

Then he looked toward the bleachers and his pride cooled instantly as Tara was being consoled by her family, the ones who Flynn was not sure had stood up.

And Flynn watched as the girl who must have been Tara’s older sister stared at him, giving him a wary, questioning, curious gaze.

Flynn had won.

But Tara had lost.

And Flynn could not help but wonder who deserved to win more.