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The Autumn Contest

Every fall, our small town held its spelling contest in the old stone library hall. This year the prize was a real telescope, wrapped in bright silver paper. Grace had wanted a telescope of her own for as long as she could remember. She loved the moon, the far, faint rings of Saturn, and the whole quiet sky. So she studied long word lists every single evening after dinner. Her grandmother sat close beside her and helped her sound out the very hardest ones.

The Word

By the final round, only Grace and a careful boy named Theo were left. The judge read out her word: "rhythm." Grace felt her nervous heart thump like a loud drum. She spelled it fast, but she dropped the second "h" without meaning to. The judge was only half-listening, so he smiled, nodded, and said, "Correct!" The room clapped, and the silver telescope seemed to shine just for her. But Grace knew. She had heard her own small voice skip right past that letter.