How to Spell Disaster

“Sorry you have to miss your lifeguard class again, Sanjay,” my little sister, Nisha, says to me from her car seat.

“Oh, it’s OK,” Aai says as she drives into the community center parking lot. “Sanjay will have fun playing basketball while he waits.”

Baba smiles. “And don’t worry, you can make up the missed class next week.”

I gently rub my tongue over my braces, which can cut me like my parents’ words. This is a disaster, I think to myself. I’m never going to be a certified lifeguard if I miss every week. 

But that doesn’t matter in my family, because our whole life revolves around my sister’s spelling bees. If you’ve ever watched the Scripps National Spelling Bee, you know it’s a big deal. The kids in it are basically celebrities. Just ask Nisha. She started spelling at 22 months old. The local news even did a story on her. And now, at age 6, she’s the under-15 spelling bee champ of our state.

I don’t mind Nisha getting all the attention. I’m proud of her too. But I’m way more interested in another eight-letter word that starts with “s” and ends with “ing”: swimming. I love everything about the water, from the way it feels on my skin to the smell of the ocean to the sea creatures that live there. Most of all, I love helping other people in the water. It’s my thing. But this Friday afternoon, instead of going to my junior lifeguard class, I have to go to yet another spelling bee.

I don’t complain though—at least not out loud. Why make waves when you can just go with the flow? 

The community center is bustling with kids and parents. 

“We’ll be in the hall,” Aai says. “Will you be outside with your friends, Sanjay?”

I nod. Although I’m not sure how many actual friends will be there. 

Just then, my parents’ friend Priyanka Auntie waves to us. “Hi, Nisha! Hi, Sanjay!”

As if on cue, Priyanka Auntie ruffles my hair, making it stick up wildly.

Ugh. I hate when she does that. And she always does that. It has been her standard greeting for me since I was a little kid. Why doesn’t she get that I am 11 now and it’s embarrassing to have your head patted like a dog’s? 

“I’ll stop by the bee later,” I say, trying to flatten my hair. “Good luck, Nisha,” I add, hugging my little sister.

I take a deep breath, like I do before I jump off a diving board, and head outside. There’s a handful of kids on the basketball court: Halima, whose brother is also doing the spelling bee; Andrea, who used to take swim classes with me; Akshay, whose dad went to high school with my dad back in India. And there’s a kid I haven’t seen before. He’s holding a bag of gummy worms in one hand while dribbling a basketball with the other.

I say hi to everyone, but instead of saying hi back, the boy with the gummy worms shouts, “Think fast!”

Before I can even think about what I’m supposed to think fast about, an orange blur comes flying at me. I throw my hands out a second too late, and the basketball hits me right between the ribs.

“Ow,” I groan.

“Vikram!” Akshay frowns as he picks up the ball.

“Why would you do that?” Halima scowls.

“What?” Vikram shrugs innocently. “I just wanted him to play with us.”

“You could have hurt him,” Andrea says, talking about me like I’m not even there. 

“Yeah,” Halima adds. “And if any of us gets hurt, he’s the only one who can help. He’s a junior lifeguard.”

I shake my head a little defeatedly. “I’m not actually a junior lifeguard yet. I keep missing classes because Nisha’s spelling bees are at the same time. Like right now.”

“Don’t feel bad. That class sounds boring,” Vikram says loudly, shooting his ball into the basket. 

I grit my teeth. What is this kid’s problem? He’s my polar opposite—someone who loves to be the center of attention. It’s like he is a baleen whale, whose voice carries farther than any other animal’s. And I’m a small goldfish nobody even notices.

“It’s not boring! He’s learning how to save drowning people. And lots of other first aid stuff,” Andrea replies, speaking up for me again. 

I smile awkwardly, the insides of my lips scraping against my braces. I wish I’d said that. 

“We should test your lifeguard skills,” Vikram says, looking over at the fence that separates the basketball court from the neighborhood. “That house has a pool. You can watch us swim in it.”

Vikram sticks his foot in a notch in the fence and I feel my stomach drop. “I bet I can do two laps across the pool and get back before anyone notices,” he says.

Halima raises an eyebrow at Andrea and Akshay. Are they feeling the same nervous feeling I’m feeling? Like an ocean is churning in their belly? Like something really bad is going to happen if we don’t stop him?

Vikram scales the fence, and everyone rushes over to watch him, so I do too, not wanting to go against the tide.

But this is a time to go against the tide. You never get into a pool without a trusted adult around. That is Swimming 101—the first thing you learn. Well, that and don’t pee in the pool.

“Time me,” Vikram says, shoving gummy worms into his mouth. His cheeks look like they are ready to burst.

“I don’t like this,” Halima whispers.

Vikram swings his right leg over the fence. He is really doing this. He is actually going to trespass in someone else’s swimming pool and endanger his life if someone doesn’t stop him.

I have to be that someone.

“Stop!” I shout, surprised at how loud I am. Was I baleen whale loud?

Vikram yelps, startled, and jumps down from the fence, back onto the basketball court. “You fell for it.” He laughs, covering his awkward landing. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” he continues, laughing even louder, so loud a gummy worm falls out of his packed mouth.

My ears burn. I finally spoke up, and now I’m the butt of his joke. 

Remind me to never do that again, I think, just as Vikram’s giggles suddenly turn into coughing.

But then, there are no more laughs or coughs. And his skin starts to turn bright red.

“He’s choking!” Akshay says.

My heart pounds in my chest. 

He is choking. Vikram is choking. 

I think back to what Coach Simone taught us with the manikins. She didn’t just show us how to save someone who is drowning. She also showed us exactly what to do if they are choking on food. 

“Help him!” Andrea shouts, looking at me as Vikram points to his throat. The red in his cheeks starts to turn blue.

Suddenly, I spring into action.

“Get help!” I shout. “I’m going to start first aid.”

Halima rushes past me to the community center.

I stand just behind Vikram. I put one arm over his chest for support, help him bend at his waist so he is parallel to the ground, and then give him five blows behind his shoulder blades with the heel of my hand.

“One,” I say, huffing. “Two, three,” I say, louder with each count. “Four,” I cry, desperate for the food to get dislodged from Vikram’s throat. “Five!” I shout, smacking his back once more.

A chewed-up ball of gummy worms flies out of his mouth, landing on the concrete. Vikram takes a gasping breath of air. His cheeks start returning to a normal color. 

“You OK?” I ask.

He nods, coughing. His voice is small and ragged. 

“You saved me,” he whispers. 

The community center doors swing open, and a mass of parents rushes toward us. I spot Nisha, Aai, Baba, and Priyanka Auntie.

“What happened?” Aai asks.

“Vikram—he was choking,” I sputter, my heart still racing. “I used what I learned in lifeguard class to help him.”

Baba’s jaw drops. “You did?”

“Sanjay!” Priyanka Auntie exclaims. “I’m so proud of you!” 

She raises her hand to rub my head.

I duck. “I actually don’t like when you do that,” I say softly.

Priyanka Auntie stops short. “What?”

I take a deep breath. I surprised myself with my whale voice when Vikram was scaling the fence. Maybe I’m getting used to the sound of it. 

“I don’t really like it when you rub my hair,” I say again, louder.

Aai and Baba look a little taken aback. And Priyanka Auntie looks totally shocked. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, betu. Thanks for letting me know.”

I smile at her. “Fist bump instead?”

I offer my fist and Priyanka Auntie bumps it, laughing.

That night, we’re all in the family room reading books after dinner. Well, Nisha is reading a dictionary. She ended up winning the spelling bee that afternoon, as I knew she would. But there is something I still need to spell out. 

“Aai? Baba?” I clear my throat. “I know our family is into spelling bees. And I like cheering Nisha on. But . . . I also really like swimming, and lifeguard class is important to me.” I take a breath. “If class is at the same time as another bee, can I still go? Maybe I can carpool with someone?”

Aai nods, putting her arm around me. “We’ll find a way to get you there. If it’s important to you, it’s important to us.”

Baba joins in the hug, kissing my head. “Thanks for speaking up.”

It took me a while. But I’m glad I did. I smile, thinking of going to junior lifeguard class, getting certified, and being able to help so many people and do what I love. 

Now I’m finally ready to make waves.