The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman (19 page)

“Whoa, whoa,” said Nate, holding up his hands. “I am
not
selfish, Maxie. And I had no idea you cared so much about this tournament.”

“Oh, you thought I was just doing it for you, Nate? Well, think again.”

Her face was pink with heat; her whole self was pinkish: her face, her hair, her board. He could see how intense she was. He thought about how he’d liked hanging out with her and figuring out the math part of their games—how many points they’d need to win, or tie. She was faster than he was at numbers. It wasn’t even true that Nate hated Scrabble—he just hated the pressure to win first place. It hadn’t occurred to him that Maxie wanted them to play as well as they could. He hadn’t known that the games meant something to her.

Nate knew that he would go back inside now, and he would play this game as hard as he could. He would play it for himself and his partner, Maxie Roth, skatefreak and math whiz, and, it seemed, good friend.

“Come on,” Nate said. “We’ve already lost so much time.”

 

 

Inside the ballroom, everyone was playing with intense concentration, except for the Drilling Falls team, who sat silently. Duncan had done nothing, exactly the way Carl wanted him to. He hated himself for it, but he knew he wasn’t alone in this feeling: Carl hated him, too. Nate and Maxie, who had left the ballroom, had only eight minutes left on their clock.

“You are one lucky dude,” Carl whispered to Duncan under his breath. “We’re going to win this game by default, Dorfman,” he said. “You’ve escaped my total wrath for now, but just wait until the next round. Then you’d better do what you’re supposed to. You’d better use those fingers of yours, the way we agreed.”

There was a commotion in the doorway, and Duncan saw the Big Apple Duo tearing into the room with their skateboards under their arms. They were like superheroes come to save the day, but no one knew exactly who they were supposed to save—except perhaps themselves. A couple of kids clapped. The duo landed at table two, slamming their bodies hard into their seats, and then immediately glanced at the clock.

“Okay,” said Nate, panting. “We’re way low on time, Maxie. Let’s get cracking.”

Together they began to play.

Carl looked as if he wanted to faint, or kill Duncan. Drilling Falls had been on the verge of the easiest win ever, and now it was ruined. “What?” said Carl. “You’re
playing
? You guys don’t have time. Just forfeit the game. You have no other choice.”

Maxie Roth laughed lightly. “Oh, right,” she said. “Sorry, Carl. We didn’t come down to Yakamee to throw it all away.”

Back and forth the two teams went, picking letters and laying them down. Nate and Maxie worked as quickly as they could, Nate taking the lead on all the strange little Scrabble words, and Maxie figuring out the value of moves in her head. Their speed was impressive, and both teams traded leads. There was a symmetry to the game that made Duncan feel as if it could go on like this forever, which wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

But the tile bag was getting rapidly lighter. Carl’s expression signaled to Duncan that he needed to do something, and
fast
. Duncan didn’t respond. He just reached into the bag and grabbed five tiles. Please, he thought, let them be good ones. Let them be so good that Carl thinks I picked each one on purpose.

He opened his hand and looked, and he was flooded with relief. Duncan had drawn:

Along with the O and the I that were already on their rack, it seemed likely that there was a bingo lurking. Together the letters looked like:

ISNAPOS

Carl gave him a pleased look, and a little nod. Duncan nodded back. Together they hunched over the rack. Carl chewed his lip and moved the letters around.

Suddenly Duncan saw it. There it was, laughably right in front of him—a word he’d heard throughout his life, and which had always had great importance to him.

It was the name of the disease that his father had died of before Duncan was born:

PANOSIS

He knew that if he played this word, he and Carl would take a strong lead. Duncan thought about Nate’s father, and how desperate he was for Nate to win and go to the finals. But just because Duncan felt sorry for Nate, he knew he shouldn’t let the Big Apple Duo win. It wouldn’t have been any more honest than using his fingertips.

Without checking with Carl first, Duncan picked up all the letters on his rack and laid them down on the board. He was sure of this bingo. So sure that he even hit the clock right away, just as Carl had done yesterday, to Duncan’s irritation. Carl looked irritated now, too, but then he was pleased. PANOSIS was worth 78 points, after all.

“Challenge,” Nate Saviano said.

“What?”
said Duncan, looking up.

“Challenge,” Nate repeated.

Carl seemed a little nervous about this, but Duncan stayed calm. He was positive that this word was good. After all, it was one of the most significant words of his entire life. Nate and Maxie would lose the challenge, Duncan knew. He and Nate and Carl and Maxie now stood up from the table and walked toward one of the word-judge machines.

PANOSIS, Duncan typed, and Nate pressed ENTER.

A new screen popped up, its border bright red, its message seeming to scream at Duncan Dorfman, mocking him and everything he had ever known:

NO, THIS PLAY IS NO GOOD

“That’s wrong,” said Duncan. “It is too a word.”

“Sorry, Duncan,” Nate said softly. “The computer says it isn’t.”

Duncan looked at Nate, who showed no triumph; Nate even seemed concerned that Duncan was upset.

“PANOSIS is no good?” Carl asked, astonished. “But you acted like you
knew
it was good, Dorfman. You were so completely sure of yourself. And you’re
never
sure of yourself!”

They all returned to the table. “It
is
good, Carl,” Duncan insisted in a whisper. “I just don’t understand. Maybe . . . it’s like SPORK. Everyone knows it’s a real
thing,
but the people who make the rules say it isn’t.”

“No coffeehousing!” a girl warned from the next table, and Duncan and Carl went silent.

Nate pried the tiles up from the board, and now Nate and Maxie were given a free turn. They played MAYO for 26 points, putting them in the lead. Duncan churned in his chair, not understanding what had happened. It was crazy that the computer hadn’t accepted PANOSIS! Of course it was a real word. Panosis was a rare but fatal disease, and it had taken Duncan’s father away from him and his mother over twelve years earlier. But you weren’t allowed to argue with the computer during a tournament; it had the final word on all challenges.

Just when Duncan thought that there wouldn’t be a way to use his fingertips to save the game at this late stage even if he
wanted
to, Carl smiled slyly.

“Watch this,”
Carl mouthed, and then he picked up the letters in PANOSIS from the rack and placed them on the board, hooking off the O in MAYO in a different order. They now spelled:

PASSION

“Whoa,”
said Duncan, and the tension between them broke for now.

At the end of the game, Duncan and Carl surged ahead to beat the team from New York City by 56 points. Even after the Big Apple Duo’s late comeback—their dramatic return to the ballroom, and the way they had managed their tiles with no time to spare—they still hadn’t been able to pull it out. Nate and Maxie weren’t going to the finals.

But Duncan and Carl were. Duncan had helped his team come this far without once using the power in his fingertips. He lingered at the board for an extra moment now, thinking anxiously about how, during the final round against either the giggling, feverish World Gurrrls or the Oregonzos, the tension with Carl would definitely return, cranked up as high as it could humanly go.

Duncan had sworn to Carl that he would use his fingertips when he absolutely had to. If the finals of the Youth Scrabble Tournament didn’t count as an “absolutely have to” situation, then what did? But Duncan couldn’t cope with that thought yet.

Right now, he stood to shake hands with Nate and Maxie across the table, and in the background there was a buzz of interest, because everyone saw that there had been an outcome at one of the semifinalists’ tables. The first team of finalists had been chosen. Maxie looked fierce, as she always did, and proud. After the New York team congratulated Drilling Falls, Maxie said to Nate, “I can’t believe we made it this far. I mean, like, it’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

But Nate, who had almost quit the tournament, looked surprisingly upset. “My dad is going to flip out,” he said. “He’s just not going to be able to stand it. He’s going to make me start preparing for next year’s tournament, and my life will remain a living hell.”

“You want me to come tell him with you?” Duncan asked.

Nate shook his head. “Nah, thanks anyway.”

“I could come,” said Maxie. “I’m your partner.”

“Thanks, you guys,” said Nate. “But I think I should do this alone.”

Nate Saviano tucked his skateboard under his arm and walked out of the ballroom. His father was somewhere out there, and Nate would have to find him and tell him it was over.

 

 

On the other side of the ballroom, the game between the Evangelical Scrabblers and a team from Maryland was reaching its climax. The two teams had played seriously and tensely, but in the end Maryland won. Hands were shaken. Kaylie and Josh both looked a little shocked at their loss, but they still forced themselves to say “Good job,” and “Congratulations.”

Then the Evangelical Scrabblers stood and held hands, looking upward and becoming very still.

“We didn’t embarrass ourselves at all this weekend,” Kaylie whispered. “We won some games, and we played hard. And we really had an awesome time.”

“Plus, I’d like to add that we got room service late last night,” whispered Josh. “And that was really cool. I had chicken fingers with honey-mustard dipping sauce. But I guess you already know that.”

“Thank you,” Kaylie said firmly, and Josh echoed, “Thank you,” too. Then they ran off to see their family.

The atrium was now crowded with players being hugged by mothers, fathers, siblings, and coaches. When Duncan saw his own mother, she approached him cautiously, uncertain of how to read the expression on his face.

“Duncan, I’m not sure if this is good or bad,” she said, coming closer.

He waited until she was right in front of him, and then he smiled and said, “We did it, Mom. We made it to the finals!”

His mother let out a scream, then she threw her arms around him. “Oh, Duncan, that’s wonderful!” she cried. “I have to go call Aunt Djuna! And just think, when we first moved to Drilling Falls, you couldn’t play Scrabble at all!”

Duncan and his mother hugged for a few seconds. After they were done, and had both agreed how exciting this was, and had talked about how there was only
one hour
until the final round was to begin, he mentioned the detail from the last game that still bothered him. “Here’s something weird: Carl and I,” he said, “lost a challenge on a word that was obviously good.”

“What was it?” she asked.

“PANOSIS.”

Duncan’s mother’s expression immediately changed. She’d been so happy, but now she looked stiff and upset. “That’s odd,” she said.

“I know,” said Duncan. “I think the word-judge program should update its dictionary. I mean, apparently they added ZA a bunch of years ago, and QI, and a few others. It’s time they added PANOSIS. And while they’re at it, SPORK. Yes, I will definitely write them a letter about SPORK.”

“Duncan!” April called, running over along with Lucy, both of them flushed and excited. “We’ve been looking for you!”

“We heard you guys won,” said Lucy, breathless. “Everyone’s talking about it. Well, guess what? We just beat the Word Gurrrls. Jessica and Tania. They giggled throughout the game, though maybe it was just a strategy to throw us off, but I doubt it. I think they just had the giggles. But the point is, it’s
us
against
you
in the finals! Can you believe it?”

“That’s
amazing
,” said Duncan. He saw his mother turn away, still looking troubled. She always looks troubled, he reminded himself.

But over the next hour, Duncan kept thinking about panosis, that fatal disease, that disturbing and mysterious word.

YOU ARE GETTING VERY SLEEPY

A
s it turned out, Nate didn’t even have to tell his father he had lost. As soon as Larry Saviano and Wendell Bruno saw him coming toward them, they knew.

“Our suffering will never end,” Wendell muttered to his former partner. Wendell had shown up at the tournament that morning and had asked Larry if he could hang around with him during the last games. Larry, out of nostalgia for old times, had reluctantly agreed.

“Keep quiet, Wendell,” said Larry now. “This is my
son
we’re talking about. I don’t want him to feel worse than he probably already does.”

Nate slowly came over to them in the atrium and said, “I guess you figured it out, Dad, right?”

Larry nodded. “I guess I did. Unless this is some elaborate fake-out.”

“No,” said Nate. “Not this time.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, son,” Larry said stiffly. It was like an animatronic version of him talking. Nate knew his father was feeling many emotions right now, but pride probably wasn’t one of them. Still, it was nice of him to pretend.

After a little while, Larry Saviano excused himself and walked away, followed by Wendell Bruno, who kept saying, “Larry, Larry, what are we going to do now?”

“Will you please leave me alone, Wendell?” Larry said. “I don’t know what
we’re
going to do now. But it’s over, okay?
We’ll
have to find a way to move on.”