Does This Count As Nonfiction

I walk up to the microphone. Folding my hands together, I look at the judges.

"Your word is hyacinth."

I see it in my head. I remember when I wrote the definition of it--"a flower"--down next to it in my review packet.

I feel relieved. I know how to spell it.

"H-y-a-c-i-n-t-h" is what I think I say.

"H-y-a-n-c-i-n-t-h" is what comes out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry, that is incorrect."

I'm met with a huge applause for making it to the final four, but I'm confused.

Didn't I spell it right?

I walk off the stage. The principal congratulates me. The other spelling bee finalists congratulate me. But I don't know what I did wrong. I should still be up there, on the stage, spelling more ridiculously confusing words.

But it's okay.

I already knew that silly mistakes were my downfall.