for lunch. But for some reason she just couldn’t get Sapphire Vine out of her mind.
Twice yesterday, the video of the Blueberry Queen Pageant had been rebroadcast on the local cable-access channel. Candy watched it both times, from start to finish, with a mixture of horror, fascination, and outright glee.
There were so many parts of it she loved, like when Sapphire came prancing out on stage in her cowgirl outfit, or when she recited that wacky poem of hers while dressed as a giant ripe blueberry. But Candy also liked watching Amanda go through her athletic routine, and she especially enjoyed hearing Haley Pruitt play the Rachmaninoff piece.
Her favorite part, though, was what had happened after Sapphire Vine had been crowned the Blueberry Queen. Whenever that part came on the TV, Candy leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms, and scrutinized every delicious moment.
As Bertha Grayfire announced the winner, Sapphire Vine had overreacted wildly, squealing like a teenager at a sixties Beatles concert. She had bounced up and down shouting “Oh! Oh! Oh!” and flailed her arms about so wildly she actually came close to pummeling the other contestants on stage.
At the same moment, Helen Ross Pruitt, Haley’s sour-faced grandmother, rose quickly to her feet, much to the surprise of her butler Hopkins (or whatever his name was). He reached out to perhaps comfort Mrs. Pruitt, or perhaps to restrain her, but she forcefully shoved him aside and charged the judges’ table like a bull on the streets of Pamplona, her long bony finger leveled at them as she spat out her displeasure, her face dark with rage.
The judges had risen uneasily to their feet in defense, and the shouting had begun. Wild accusations and vehement denials had flown back and forth. Mrs. Pruitt actually came close to blows with one of the judges, Oliver LaForce, who ran the Lightkeeper’s Inn. He had vehemently denied any wrongdoing and accused her of overreacting and, worse, bad sportsmanship. Candy had watched as Mrs. Pruitt flourished her tightly clenched fists in rage. She looked ready to swing out but had finally been restrained by her long-suffering butler.
It was a surrealistic moment straight out of the movies but something rarely seen in real life.
Candy loved every moment of it.
The entire hall erupted then as the camera lens swung erratically about, trying to record the ensuing chaos for posterity. The audience members were on their feet; some clapped politely, but most just stood in shock, and a few—perhaps supporters of Haley Pruitt and some of the other contestants—stormed from the hall in disbelief or disgust.
And though she stood in the middle of the firestorm, Sapphire Vine had been strangely oblivious to what was going on around her. Instead, she acted every bit the Blueberry Queen—probably because, Candy suspected, Sapphire had been anticipating and practicing that moment for weeks, more than likely in front of a mirror. It was almost as if she had known she was going to win—or at the very least, thought it her destiny.
With great dignity she accepted the bouquet and sash from the two little girls and bent forward regally so Bertha Grayfire could place a crown on the queen’s head. Sapphire then responded to the muted congratulations of the other contestants by pulling each of them to her in tight, glorious hugs.
At this point, Candy had squinted closely at the TV to watch the barely controlled expressions of distaste on the faces of the other girls. Amanda stiffened as she allowed Sapphire to give her a hug, but she did a good job of forcing a smile. The other girls reacted similarly, trying to be good sports in a difficult situation. Still, the shock they felt was as plain on their faces, as it was on most of those in the audience.
As for Haley Pruitt, she had not waited around to congratulate the winner. In tears, she dashed off the stage to be with her grandmother, who finally allowed
Twice yesterday, the video of the Blueberry Queen Pageant had been rebroadcast on the local cable-access channel. Candy watched it both times, from start to finish, with a mixture of horror, fascination, and outright glee.
There were so many parts of it she loved, like when Sapphire came prancing out on stage in her cowgirl outfit, or when she recited that wacky poem of hers while dressed as a giant ripe blueberry. But Candy also liked watching Amanda go through her athletic routine, and she especially enjoyed hearing Haley Pruitt play the Rachmaninoff piece.
Her favorite part, though, was what had happened after Sapphire Vine had been crowned the Blueberry Queen. Whenever that part came on the TV, Candy leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms, and scrutinized every delicious moment.
As Bertha Grayfire announced the winner, Sapphire Vine had overreacted wildly, squealing like a teenager at a sixties Beatles concert. She had bounced up and down shouting “Oh! Oh! Oh!” and flailed her arms about so wildly she actually came close to pummeling the other contestants on stage.
At the same moment, Helen Ross Pruitt, Haley’s sour-faced grandmother, rose quickly to her feet, much to the surprise of her butler Hopkins (or whatever his name was). He reached out to perhaps comfort Mrs. Pruitt, or perhaps to restrain her, but she forcefully shoved him aside and charged the judges’ table like a bull on the streets of Pamplona, her long bony finger leveled at them as she spat out her displeasure, her face dark with rage.
The judges had risen uneasily to their feet in defense, and the shouting had begun. Wild accusations and vehement denials had flown back and forth. Mrs. Pruitt actually came close to blows with one of the judges, Oliver LaForce, who ran the Lightkeeper’s Inn. He had vehemently denied any wrongdoing and accused her of overreacting and, worse, bad sportsmanship. Candy had watched as Mrs. Pruitt flourished her tightly clenched fists in rage. She looked ready to swing out but had finally been restrained by her long-suffering butler.
It was a surrealistic moment straight out of the movies but something rarely seen in real life.
Candy loved every moment of it.
The entire hall erupted then as the camera lens swung erratically about, trying to record the ensuing chaos for posterity. The audience members were on their feet; some clapped politely, but most just stood in shock, and a few—perhaps supporters of Haley Pruitt and some of the other contestants—stormed from the hall in disbelief or disgust.
And though she stood in the middle of the firestorm, Sapphire Vine had been strangely oblivious to what was going on around her. Instead, she acted every bit the Blueberry Queen—probably because, Candy suspected, Sapphire had been anticipating and practicing that moment for weeks, more than likely in front of a mirror. It was almost as if she had known she was going to win—or at the very least, thought it her destiny.
With great dignity she accepted the bouquet and sash from the two little girls and bent forward regally so Bertha Grayfire could place a crown on the queen’s head. Sapphire then responded to the muted congratulations of the other contestants by pulling each of them to her in tight, glorious hugs.
At this point, Candy had squinted closely at the TV to watch the barely controlled expressions of distaste on the faces of the other girls. Amanda stiffened as she allowed Sapphire to give her a hug, but she did a good job of forcing a smile. The other girls reacted similarly, trying to be good sports in a difficult situation. Still, the shock they felt was as plain on their faces, as it was on most of those in the audience.
As for Haley Pruitt, she had not waited around to congratulate the winner. In tears, she dashed off the stage to be with her grandmother, who finally allowed
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