How to Properly Consult the Dictionary

By: Joshua Edmiston

“The theme for this month is… Academia!” announced Alexis.

“Academia?” I thought, “What in the world is that?”

Indeed, I had no idea, clue, or supposition as to what this word was supposed to mean. The sound painted no picture as it had no means to. She may as well have been speaking a different language. I sat at a table in the Creative Writing Room. It was a large section of the school with various rooms, but few members were active there at any given moment.

In this section of the school was a coffee bar which sold, well, coffee. However, I am of good authority to say that it is rubbish compared to my steaming cuppa. There was also a library that contained numerous poems, fan fictions, and other literary works crafted by various students. There was also something about archives, a great hall for announcing things (which is where Alexis and the rest of us were), and a general. I’m not quite sure why exactly we have a general; maybe it is in case we find ourselves in one of those dreadful culinary catastrophes.

Where was I? Oh yes, so I had since occupied a table in the library where I tried to figure out the meaning of this academia. I had written a story on the true meaning of love, though the due date came before I could submit it. There was also a story about silence that had a marvelous plot twist if I do say so myself which I rather liked even though a certain someone deemed it inferior a story about someone dying. But academia, what was one supposed to do with such a word? Of all the words out there, she had to pick one which I could not define. But was I one to back down from a challenge? No! I would write a story about the dictionary and throw the word academia in there if I had to.

Speaking of dictionaries, I had since hauled one over to see if I could locate this word. I looked and looked but could not find anything. How disappointing indeed. Was I ready to give up though? Yes. But that wouldn’t make for a very good story, so it is a good thing a few of my friends showed up: Gabe, Tirzah, and Trystan. They each took seats across from where I was sitting as I apparently looked quite distraught.

“Hey Joshua, what’s up?” asked Gabe.

“Oh nothing,” I said, “just trying to figure something out for this month’s challenge.”

“Ah,” said Tirzah, “may the best writer win then.”

“You probably will,” I said, “I don’t even know what this month’s theme is supposed to mean. Academia? Is that something to do with school, like with academics?”

“This month’s theme is on macadamia nuts?” asked Trystan enthusiastically.

“No, it’s-” I began.

“Hold on,” said Tirzah, “I thought you were a fictional character that Joshua made for The Rose, why are you here? You’re not even real.”

“I’m real when I need to be,” answered Trystan.

“What, wha-” began Gabe.

“Anyway,” said Trystan, “I was thinking about a story of two friends: Mack and Damia. Together, they would embark on a glorious adventure where they had to save the Kingdom of Pistachio from the Evil Emperor Nutcracker!”

“That’s a terrible idea,” said Tirzah.

Trystan slumped slightly in his chair, “Nobody asked you what you thought.”

“I thought the theme was academia not… whatever that nut is,” suggested Gabe.

“Indeed, which is another reason why that was a terrible idea,” said Tirzah.

“Fine, well when I win, then I’ll pick a proper topic,” said Trystan, “not this… this… what is this month’s topic again?”

“Academia,” said Tirzah.

“Yeah,” said Gabe, “but what’s that?”

“It’s…” began Tirzah before becoming deep in thought, “well, I can’t say I know.”

“So, my idea might not be so bad then,” said Trystan.

Tirzah cast a semi-soft glare in Trystan’s direction.

“Did Alexis give any clues as to what it means?” asked Gabe.

I recalled what Alexis had told us during the announcement.

“She said something like castles and colleges,” I said.

“Castles and colleges?” asked Tirzah, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“So if Mack and Damia were to visit a castle and a college every now and then, the it would be on topic, right?” asked Trystan.

“Can you cut it with the macadamia nuts?!” asked Tirzah who was rather frustrated.

“SHH!” hissed a nearby table.

Everyone quieted down, the conversation had been increasing in volume. But in our defense, it was a confusing question, and these are confusing times.

“Did Alexis say anything else?” asked Trystan.

“Oh yeah,” said Tirzah, “something about Pinterest.”

“I’ll look it up,” volunteered Gabe.

“Wait,” I said, bordering on a command, “if you go into Pinterest, you’ll only find pain.”

Aye, but it was too late. Gabe had clicked on the first result for ‘academia pintrest’ and began scrolling. We all looked to see what Pinterest had to offer.

“These aren’t writing prompts,” said Tirzah, “this is… what is this?”

There were pictures of some architecture, so that helped narrow it down from all genres to genres post cavemen. But then things became rather odd. There was a picture of an old tube of toothpaste, I think. After that, there was a glass that was mostly empty, a bunch of text boxes we didn’t bother reading, and various articles of clothing.

“What is this?” asked Gabe.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Maybe it’s some kind of code,” suggested Tirzah.

“My macadamia idea isn’t sounding too bad now, huh?” asked Trystan.

“Yeah,” said Tirzah.

“Well, we have to do something, we can’t just not write. Where’s the fun in that?” I said, “We’re writers, we never give up! We never procrastinate! Because we are the-”

“SHH!” hissed all the tables.

“The what?” asked Gabe.

“I was going to say best.”

Everyone pondered my words as I expected their response. Though apparently I had startled Tirzah and Gabe with my sudden speech.

“Yeah,” began Tirzah, “James actually needs my help here soon, so I better go.”

“Same,” said Gabe, “I… uh, need to write a sequel about Christy.”

Gabe and Tirzah left, and I cannot blame them. For the task at hand was nearly impossible. An undefinable word with little context and rubbish photographs was all that was needed to confuse our minds in harmony. But Trystan stayed, pondering similar topics as I was.

“So, now what?” asked Trystan.

“I don’t know,” I said, “guess we’ll have to wait until the next writing contest.”

I was ready to give in, ready to give up. I packed my belongings and closed the dictionary. Standing up, I pushed the chair back to where it was and reached for the brick of a book.

“Is that a dictionary?” asked Trystan.

“Yep,” I said

“Maybe you could find the definition in there.”

“I tried that, but apparently academia didn’t exist when Noah Webster was around.”

“You could just look it up… like with a phone.”

Ingenious! I seized my phone and sent the command. Surely Trystan’s idea would work, if the nineteenth century vernacular proved ineffective, then perhaps twenty-first century slang would work. It wasn’t probable, but it was possible. I entered it: ‘define academia’ and handed the results to Trystan. He picked it up and read it.

“Academia, noun: the environment or community concerned with the pursuit of research, education, and scholarship.”

We looked up at each other in shock.

“School?!” I said, “It means school?!”

“SHH!” hissed the library.

“Shush yourselves!” retorted Trystan.

Everyone was taken aback by the robust rebuttal.

“Why didn’t she just say school?!” asked Trystan.

“Yeah, when’s the last time you took chemistry in a castle?!” I said.

“Do we even have a castle at NSA?”

“Not yet, I think.”

We sat back down, astonished at the results we had just unearthed.

“So that means you can write a story,” said Trystan.

“How?” I asked, “I’ve spent too much time trying to figure out this word.”

The sudden jubilation turned sudden dismay. Alas, the stories were due today and I hadn’t even begun writing. After some time, Trystan had an idea.

“You could just take the transcript of this conversation, add some narration to it, and then enter it into the contest.”

“What?” I asked, “That’s nuts, they wouldn’t even accept it as an on-topic story.”

“Well, we’re in a school… and we just learned something,” said Trystan, “so… I don’t see why they wouldn’t accept it.”

“Will that work?” I asked.

“Only one way to find out,” said Trystan.

The end…