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How could today be so... boring?

At some point, each student in Ms. Hupp's class had that thought.

It was like a fantasy come true. It was Friday, Ritzer was still gone, and all day they had done nothing but watch educational movies. Sure, some were a little bland, but it was definitely better than having to study for the Stupid Tests.

Yet, like they were offered limitless amounts of delicious chocolate, it was beginning to wear on them.

It didn't help that their wonderful teacher was a little... less wonderful today. She had come in with what she called a "migraine," which the kids could only guess was a headache but a zillion times worse. She had them turn off the lights and close the windows. They wondered if she was going to have a sub later that day, but she said no one was available.

So, Rini, Bitty, and Betty, had to go to the library to get a few videos for them to watch. There was a bit of coordination that had to be done, since the librarian didn't believe the three hoolagins at first, but eventually they each walked back bearing a handful of tapes.

After lunch, they almost didn't want to go back to class. Especially since the spelling bee was going to start very soon.

Lyza was focused on the book in front of her. She had turned her desk oblique to the rest in her row, to get better vantage of what little light there was. The book was actually a dictionary, for the case of them was almost right behind her. She flipped through it, spotting random words. She wrote them down in a scratch-journal, repeatedly.

The dim room was disturbed as someone entered, handing Ms. Hupp a slip of paper. Lyza set the pen in her hand down, flexing her fingers to relieve the cramp that had persisted all day.

She almost preempted Ms. Hupp, getting out of her seat just as the teacher called out in a thick, pained voice: "Lyza?"

She took the first step fine, but on her second she did not feel her foot hit the ground. Her leg had fallen asleep.

Clack!

"Hey! Watch it!" Rini protested, as the rabbit nearly sat down with her at her desk.

Lyza quickly regained her balance, her hand now aching from the impact of her palm hitting the edge of the desk. "Sorry," she apologized curtly, and moved on, stepping gently until the tingling subsided.

She took the pass from her teacher, and headed to the door. The disturbance was her fault this time, as she ventured into the hallway. Before she closed the door, it almost sounded like someone whispered: break a leg.

Hadn't they seen she almost already did?

She made her way to the side-door that led to the stage. When she passed into the cool, white-painted little room a chill crawled down her spine. While she had been on stages before, she had never been on this stage for anything up until this year, and now she was climbing the steps for the second time.

Except now she felt a little naked. Without her flute, what was she supposed to do? Any time a spotlight was on her, she had a flute in her hands. Without one, would her fingers behave themselves? Or would she start fidgeting with everything, like the chair or her shirt or, even worse, pester the person next to her?

The stage was extremely cold as she stepped upon the wood. A draft ruffled the wing nearby, and for a second she was stroked by the heavy fabric. It smelled musty and moldy, like an old church.

The fourth-graders were already on the stage, sitting in chairs. The eight chairs were situated in a shallow V, with a gap between them dividing them by their two grades.

Between Lyza and the chairs was a podium, and as she neared she was greeted by Mrs. McGuire, a fourth-grade teacher.

"Hello, you're... Lyza, right?"

"Yes ma'am," the rabbit replied, as the teacher guided her to where she was supposed to sit.

"And you remember how the procedure goes, right?"

"Yes ma'am," she replied, taking the seat closest to the podium. She had gone over the sheet of paper from yesterday several times throughout the day.

"Okay. Just sit tight, we're going to start soon."

Like there was anything else to do. The rabbit sat with her knees together, the cold air of the stage not agreeing with her exposed legs, and sighed.

* * *

Ms. Hupp's class walked in a single-file line along with the other fifth-graders toward the cafeteria.

During events like this, everything was normally put to the sides and the kids sat on the floor. There was plenty of room for the entire fifth grade to have some space.

But as Ket and Emeral entered, there was almost no floorspace left to speak of. Fourth grade was larger than fifth in headcount, and so there was already a lot of contention. It didn't help that the extra population meant the air in the room became hot and musty, and on top of that a bit smelly.

"I can't see anything from back here..." Emeral grumbled.

"I think we'll mostly be 'H-E-A-R-I-N--'"

"Oh stop it. If you wanted to spell so badly, why didn't you sign up?" She teased, sticking out her tongue.

"...My tongue has dyslexia." He replied, and then returned the gesture.

* * *

"You're going down." Barney said, giving Lyza and Max a thumbs-down.

"Can you spell 'ICUP'?" Asked Max in response.

Hannah stuck her tongue out. "We're not falling for that stupid trick."

"C'mon, c'mon, we're almost ready," Mrs. McGuire's voice came from the side-door entrance as she led Andrew and Goren in. Andrew huffed, picking the seat next to Lyza.

"So, you ready?" He asked, out of breath.

"Yeah." Lyza replied, a little distantly. She was beginning to feel detatched from herself, like she was suddenly very sleepy.

"Good. I don't care if you or I win, we just can't let the fourth-graders win."

She looked beyond Drew to Goren. The wolf pup sat up straight with his head facing directly toward the closed curtains. He looked like he was sapping all the energy out of the air.

He looked so cold and collected.

It sent a shiver down her spine.

And suddenly, as Mrs. McGuire took her spot at the podium, the curtains began to open. The audience was in a loud murmur, talking amongst itself. But after a few moments, the murmur began to subside, as if it was ushered out of the room and sent into the hallway.

Lyza's eyes swept upon the variently-colored sea of heads. The last time she had been on this stage, it was much darker; she did not get to see most of the faces that gazed upon her. But now, in the middle of the day, even though the light to go by filtered through the windows, she could see almost all of them up to halfway. Even if she was only ten-percent of the audience's focus, she felt like a hundred-and-one.

"Boys and girls, fifth-grade and fourth-; thank you all for coming." Mrs. McGuire said, her voice carried by the microphone. "We hold this little speling bee once every two years, here at Lonely Oak. We all know that you fifth-graders need a bit of a break from studying. And, believe it or not, your teachers need a break, too!"

The kids laughed.

Lyza looked over at the teachers, sitting in chairs about the walls of the room. Ms. Hupp was not present among them.

"So, let's introduce our contestants. From fourth-grade we have: Barney Valmoneri, Alexis Eagle, James Sanders and Hannah Gommers."

The fourth grade cheered for their team, some shouting their names: Go Hannah!

Lyza felt a burning lump of coal inside her stomach.

"And in fifth-grade we have: Maxwell Barrer, Drew Wetmoor, Goren Haskell, and Lyza... Ay-lah-ters-terev?" She turned to the girl sitting next to her; "Did I say that right?"

The burning in Lyza's stomach immediately went to her cheeks. "Uh... y-yeah, sure," she said quietly, meekly nodding.

Quiet laughter emitted from audiance, but it was short-lived as the back began to rally. They cheered louder, despite being the minority; they too cheered for their hero: Go-Go--Goren, Go-Go--Goren!

"All right, now; before we begin, let me just go over the rules. We will alternate between fourth- and fifth-graders. When I call your name," she addressed the contestants, "You may either stand or remain seated. When you're ready to spell the word, you must say the word, spell it, and then repeat the word again. If you feel you have messed up, pause for one moment, and repeat the word again as if you just started, understand?"

Even the audience nodded.

"When one person gets a word wrong, the next person will get a different word. If they spell that word correctly, then the person before them will be eliminated. If the second person gets the word wrong, we will go until someone gets a word correct, and the person before them will get elminated. Still with me?"

Everyone nodded.

"Good. If you need me to, ask me to say the word in a sentence if that will help. One last rule: You have ten seconds to spell your word. If you take more than that, then it will be counted as wrong. Now, I think we're ready to start. During practice, we asked our contestants to tell us their favorite word. The person that goes first is the person that had the shortest word."

Mrs. McGuire reached into the podium and pulled out two microphones, turning them on. "Testing, testing," she said into both of them, then went to give one to Lyza, and the other to Hannah. When she returned to the podium, she announced: "Lyza will go first."

The rabbit's stomach did a flip-flop. With nervous legs, she stood up.

"Are you ready?"

Lyza held the microphone in her hand; it shook as she brought it near her lips. "Yes," she said, desperately keeping her voice from stuttering.

"Don't be nervous, now," Mrs. McGuire said. "We're starting off easy. Lyza, your first word is: Lemon."

"L--lemon," the rabbit said, her mouth going dry as the thought of the sour fruit was amplified by her nerves. "L-E-M-O-N. Lemon."

"That's correct. Next up, with the longest word, Hannah."

The sugar glider jumped up with a squeak of excitement.

"Hannah, your word is: Moon."

"Moon. M-O-O-N. Moon."

"Correct."

The fourth-graders cheered.

"Drew," Mrs. McGuire announced.

Lyza handed him the mic; he stood up but did not look like he wanted to.

"Your word is: Teapot.

"Teepot," he said; "T-E-E-P-O-T. Teepot."

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

"Wha--?"

As Andrew's mouth fell open, the fourth-grade audiance booed and hissed. Red-faced, the otter went back to his seat, and handed the microphone off to Max.

Max had to take his fingers out of his mouth to accept it.

"Alexis, your word is: Chisel."

"Chizzel. C-H-I-Z-Z..." The corgi paused, rocking back-and-forth once on her feet. "Chisel," she started again. "C-H-I-S-E-L. Chisel."

"That is correct. Drew... I'm afraid you've been eliminated. Please go join your class."

The otter waited a moment in the seat, hunched over just a little. A sniffle came over the microphone, just barely. He stood up, his chair scooting on the wood floor of the stage. He started walking, his feet thumping heavily.

Lyza watched as he passed. The first one to go; just like that. He hadn't even gotten to spell one word right. He had been kicked off even before he started.

A memory came to her, of a little boy. He cried and cried, his hopes of winning an archery tournament crushed when his target came up in last place, right at the first round.

Drew was caught by surprise when, suddenly, before he made it three feet beyond the podium, someone put a hand on his shoulder. He half-turned to see Lyza smiling.

"Good job," she said.

His frown lifted just a bit, and he continued on; though his steps were less heavy, and his head more upright.

"Remember," Mrs. McGuire said, "There's no real prize for this, it's all just for fun. So let's all be good sports; you too, out there."

Lyza's fingers and legs began to thaw as the familiar words came to her ears. She felt a distinct pressure in the crook of her index- and middle-finger on her right hand. She rubbed the spot tenderly with her thumb, the memories and feelings surfacing more and more.

"Max, are you ready?"

The beaver stood.

"Please spell: Banana."

He thought for just a moment, his hand moving to his mouth. His fingers did not go in, but the motion helped his brain get over that little nervous bump. "Banana. BA-NA-NA... Banana."

"That's correct. James. Please spell: Congress."

"Congress. CON-GR-ESS. Congress."

"Correct. Goren, your word is: Raindrop."

* * *

"Wow, what was that?" Bitty said, her head tilting to the side. "Lyza was almost kissing that kid."

"She was not," Emeral said, hearing the comment from the cat.

"Oh yeah?" She taunted. "Then what was she doin'?"

"She was just being nice." The tigress shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"Well," Betty said, "Goren isn't going to be nice to her when she gets kicked out. She's next to go."

"Yeah, right Rini?"

"Huh?" The rat blinked, her attention brought to the present from the stage. "Oh... yeah. Goren's a good speller, I guess."

The twins each raised a mirroring brow. "That's not what we were..."

"Raindrop. R-A-I-N--D-R-O-P. Raindrop."

Go-Go--Goren!

"Nevermind..."

* * *

"James, please spell: Rubble."

"Rubble. R-U-B-B-L-E. Rubble."

"Correct; Lyza,"

The rabbit stood, the mic already in her hand.

"Please spell: Finicky."

She blinked. "Uh--" she cut herself off, fearing that anything but what was required would disqualify her. "F--Finnikey: F-I-N-N-I-K-E-Y. Finnikey."

* * *

"Oh my gosh!"

"What an I-D-I-O-T."

"Hey!" Emeral snapped at the twins. "Why don't you guys shut up, huh? You spell 'finicky'."

"Barney," Mrs. McGuire said, "Please spell: Radio."

"Oh Rini, watch! Lyza's gonna get canned!"

"Radeo. R-A-D-E-O. Radeo."

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

"Psh." Bitty huffed. "That word was too hard."

"What do you mean?" Panda commented, the commotion to his right bothering him. "'Finicky' is harder than 'Radio'."

"No it isn't!" Kelly-Elly, sitting next to him, protested.

"Actually guys," Rini spoke up. "It kind of is."

The twins exchanged glances. "What's gotten into you today, Reen?"

"Nothing." She replied curtly. "It's just that 'Finicky' is harder to spell than 'Radio.'" She glared at the girls. "And don't ever call me 'Reen' again."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Barney, that's incorrect. Lyza, you are safe."

The rabbit's temples thundered. She could hardly breathe. She nodded stupidly--Why did she do that? Her fingers clenched.

"Max, your word is: Paladin."

"Palladin. P-A-L-L-A-D-I-N. Palladin."

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

Max's fingers immediately went into his mouth.

"Hannah," Mrs. McGuire saw the girl practically leap out of her seat. "Your word is: Reaction."

The sugar-glider made a little bit of a chittering noise for a second before she spoke. "Reaction. REACT-ION. Reaction."

"Very good," Mrs. McGuire said genuinely. "Max, I'm sorry but you've been eliminated. Please go join your class."

The beaver closed his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry guys." He mumbled.

"It's okay, Max." Lyza whispered.

"I'll get 'em for ya." Goren spoke confidently.

Lyza genuinely believed him; at her rate, she wasn't going to be getting anyone.

* * *

"What the fudge?" Kelly grumbled. "Our guys don't know how to spell worth crud."

"Look at it this way, Kels," Betty pointed out: "Goren is up there, still, and now with one more dunce out of the way, he can go more often. He'll get rid of those fourth-graders; they're just up there on sheer luck."

"Goren, please spell: Notion."

"Notion. N-O-T-I-O-N. Notion."

"Yup," her sister agreed. "It'd be even better if Lyosera just walked away."

"Alexis, please spell: Jittery."

"Jittery: J-I-T-T-E-R-Y. Jittery."

"Would you two shut it already?" Emeral spoke up. "Lyza's not an idiot."

"Lyza, your word is: Animal."

"...Animal. A-N-I-M-A-L. Animal."

"See?" The tigress motioned at the stage, "I prove my point."

"She's running off luck just like the fourth-graders." Kelly contested.

"James, your word is: Miracle."

"Miracle. M-I-R-A-C-L-E. Miracle."

"I bet you couldn't spell half the words they are, Kelly." Panda said lowly.

"Goren, your word is: Carpenter."

"Psh, Goren's got this," Bitty threw her hand up and whipped it.

"Carpenter. CAR-PEN-TER. Carpenter."

"What'd I tell ya?"

"Hey Pan," Kelly said: "How about you spell the next word?"

"Fine." He agreed.

"But if you get it wrong then you gotta eat your words." Betty joked, glancing at his belly.

"Hah!" Kelly giggled. "I dunno if they'll fit!"

"Barney, please spell: Cupboard."

"Cupboard," Panda began, to prove his worth: "C-U-P-B-O-A-R-D. Cupboard."

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

Kelly stuck her tongue out. "Mrs. McGuire said you're wrong."

"No, she was talking about the kid on stage!" Emeral spoke excitedly; "And Lyza's up next, she could--!"

* * *

"Lyza, your next word is--oh. Ahem, I guess I've actually run out of the first stack of words, I'll have to move on to the next stack. These words will be a bit harder, so be wary."

Lyza bit her lip. This was it. She was going to get this word wrong, and then Hannah would get it right. She was out. She was done. This was it; and Goren would naturally lead them to victory. And then Rini could gloat and brag and boast about how her boyfriend was the best thing there ever was on earth, ever-ever.

While she was still seen as the worst--no, she wasn't seen at all.

"Lyza, your next word is: Gourmet."

"Gourmet," she said immediately, before she even realized she was speaking. "GOUR-MET. Gourmet."

Mrs. McGuire smiled. "Very good. Barney, I'm afraid you've been eliminated. Please have a seat with your class."

* * *

The taunting girls were silent as the fourth-grader's shoes scuffed toward the the door to the stage.

"You all were saying?" Emeral spoke up with a haughty inflection, her lips trying to stay flat but a wry smile making its way upon muzzle.

"She's still running off luck."

"No," Betty corrected her sister, "She's clearly cheating. There's no way 'Miss Silly-Ball' could ever get that word right; it has a silent letter."

"Hannah, please spell: Tumbleweed."

"Tumbleweed. TUM-BLE-W-EED. Tumbleweed."

"That Hannah-girl is really good," Rini pointed out.

"Yeah, she is." Ket agreed.

"I'm sure you don't mean she's better than Goren, right?" Kelly questioned.

"Goren, your word is: Barnacle."

The wolf pup thought for a few seconds. He looked at the ceiling, his brain churning. It was as if he was making an important decision, but unable to commit to whichever the choice.

"Five seconds," Mrs. McGuire warned.

"Barnicle," he finally said. "BARN-ICLE."

Mrs. McGuire shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

"Dang! I knew it was an 'a'."

"Alexis, your word is: Rouge."

"Rouge. R-O-U-G-E. Rouge."

"Very good. Goren, I'm afraid you're eliminated. Please join your class."

Alexis and Hannah shared a high-five. "Girl, sometimes it pays to have your mom work at a beauty parlor!"

With a sigh, Goren looked at Lyza. He looked a bit defeated, but it was well hidden behind a mask. He extended the microphone to her.

She took it reluctantly. She watched him walk toward the stairs of the stage. When he was through the door, she felt the loneliness. The cold air chilled her; made her feel like she was covered in ice.

It felt... familiar.