six words.

I got six words right on my spelling test. Six whole words. That was more than I ever got before. I even got especially. E-S-P-E-C-I-A-L-L-Y.

Language. That was one I missed, because I mixed up the u and the a. “That’s a tough one,” Calista told me after she high-fived me for my six whole words. “I even spell that one wrong sometimes.” Which I knew was probably a lie, but I let her say it anyway.

Soccer. That was another one I didn’t get. Soccer was supposed to be an easy one, but I forgot about the -er not -re at the end. I got confused and screwed up. “Sometimes it’s the easy ones that get you,” Calista said.

Calista took me to the bodega and told Hugo about my six words, and he was so impressed with me he gave me a giant bear claw that I didn’t even have to stack cups for. I stacked cups anyway, though. I stacked a whole bunch of cardboard coffee sleeves too.

Hugo and Calista were talking awhile.

I couldn’t decide if I was happy about the six words or not. Because for one thing, six words was good. I’d never gotten six whole words before. But for the other thing, six words wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even almost. And Dad said I better get perfect.

My stomach was tied up like knots on a rope waiting for Dad to get home, to see what he’d say about the six words when I told him. But when he got home, he didn’t ask about my spelling test. So I didn’t tell him. He didn’t ask the whole rest of the week either. I think maybe he forgot.

I couldn’t decide if I was happy about that or not.