Unprepossessing.

It was another one of those nice words for "ugly." Even nicer than plain. It was just a coincidence that the judge's computer came up with that word for me to spell, but still it bothered me. Momma would have called it ironic. The Almighty showing He's got Himself a sense of humor. I'm sure that's what she was thinking out there in the audience.

Well, she's not me. The contests she went out for when she was my age were beauty contests, not spelling bees. She was pos­sessing, pre possessing―there was no "un" about it.

"Contestant thirteen," the judge's voice boomed.

In the previous round, there had been five more eliminations. Only six of us remained. I stood up and felt the searing spotlight on me again.

The judge looked at the word that had been thrown up on his computer screen, and he hesitated. He glanced at the judge next to him, who only shrugged. He took a deep breath and turned to me.

"Please spell abomination."

Some gasps of surprise from the audience. A few snickers.

The heat I felt in my ears, then cheeks had nothing to do with the lights. I knew I was going blotchy red. I tried to tell myself it was just coincidence again, but deep down I knew it wasn't. This word was too easy. The other kids were getting words like cairn­gorm and pneumonectomy. Whether this was the Almighty having a major laugh or something other, I couldn't figure out yet.

"Abomination," I said. "A-B-O-M-I-N-A-T-I-O-N. Abomina­tion."

"Correct."

I sat back down and looked at the crack-nail toes sticking through the tips of my sandals.

There's that old joke: "Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes right to the bone." But they're wrong―because with me it goes deeper than the bone. It goes right to the marrow. I once over­heard our pastor say to one of the other parishioners that looking at me was enough to question your belief in God. Momma over­heard it, too, so we left that church and found another.