“Lovely, just lovely,” Bertha said into the microphone. “My, we have such a talented group of contestants here tonight! I don’t envy the judges their job one bit. It will be a very difficult task to select a winner from these remarkable girls, I can tell you that. Now, for our final performance of the evening… the moment you’ve all been waiting for… Miss Sapphire Vine.”
As the lights went down and the hall quieted, Candy whispered, “Do you think she’ll do a striptease?”
“That’s about the only talent she has, honey. Unless she plans to drag a typewriter onstage and write a newspaper column right before our very eyes.”
“Now that would be exciting.”
“About as exciting as painting toenails.”
“Hey, careful. That’s the highlight of my week.”
“Mine too.”
“Shh. Here she comes.”
A pause. Then, “Oh… my… God. She looks like… a giant blueberry?”
A wave of gasps, chuckles, and whispered conversations swept through the audience as Sapphire Vine appeared on stage wearing one of the most outlandish outfits Candy had ever seen. It looked as though it could have been a Halloween costume, except it was worn by a woman in her midthirties instead of a six-year-old child. It was blue-lots and lots of blue-and bulged widely in the middle, approximating the look of a giant blueberry. She wore shimmering blue tights on her arms and legs, and had woven blueberry stems into her hair, many of them bearing clumps of the small blue fruit.
Oblivious to the crowd’s reaction, Sapphire stepped up to the microphone as the spotlight centered on her. She nodded at the judges and then addressed the audience.
“I would like to begin by telling you,” she said, “what an honor it is for me to be here on this stage tonight. I know my decision to appear in this pageant with these other wonderful girls has been controversial and that many of you believe I shouldn’t be here at all. But there is one reason I’m here: I love this community, I love the people who live here, and I love this country. But most of all, I love the blueberry.”
“That’s about four reasons,” Maggie hissed.
“Shh!”
“So tonight,” Sapphire continued, “I would like to perform an original poem that I’ve written expressly for this momentous occasion. It’s called ‘Ode to Blueberries
The blueness of a blueberry, a beautiful fruit
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the audience before alighting on the judges. When she continued, her voice took on a deeper, darker tone:
But too soon the love for the berries is betrayed.
Her gaze turned skyward, and anger crept into her voice as the next words came out hurried, sharp, and accusatory, her tone rising in volume and intensity:
It is then when I feel a deep hatred for this time,
Speaking the final words almost in a whisper, Sapphire Vine closed her eyes, let her arms fall limp at her sides, and dropped her chin to her chest.
For a moment the audience sat in stunned silence, uncertain of how to react, uncertain if she had finished. But when several long seconds had passed, and Sapphire still stood unmoving with eyes closed and hands clenched, the audience sensed that she was indeed done.
Someone near the front clapped tentatively. Others followed hesitantly, politely.
It was far from the ovation Haley Pruitt had received, or even Mollie McKay, for that matter. But when she heard the applause, Sapphire opened her eyes and lifted her head. Her face was radiant.
“Did you like it? I wrote it myself!” she bubbled, hopping up and down like a two-year-old.
Most of the judges sat with their heads bowed to the table before them, scribbling on their judging forms. None was able to meet her gaze. Sapphire apparently took this as a good sign, for she waved frenetically toward the audience, blew a few kisses toward the judges, and bounced off the stage.
Maggie shook her head in disbelief. “Did I just see what I just saw, or did I black out and have some sort of dreadful dream?”
“That was no dream. It was a disaster.”
“What could the poor girl have been thinking?”
“That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It was like watching a train wreck happen right in front of your eyes.”
Both of them burst out in high-pitched giggles but quickly slapped their hands over their mouths as a few audience members shot questioning looks their way.
“Oops! We’d better be good,” Maggie whispered, “or they’ll throw us out of here.” Both struggled to contain their giggling, but it seemed like a lost cause.
After a brief interlude, the contestants gathered onstage for the final portion of the pageant. They all wore formal dresses and stood nervously with clenched hands as they faced the judges.
“Now comes our final event of the evening: the Q and A. Each contestant will be asked a question chosen at random,” Bertha Grayfire explained. “Contestants will be judged on their speaking skills, ability to think on their feet, and stage presence. This portion of the pageant will account for forty percent of each contestant’s final score. Let us begin.”
A pretty young girl wearing yellow chiffon walked onto the stage carrying a basket. From it, Bertha withdrew a length of paper, upon which was written the first question. She turned to the contestants. “Jennifer, you’re first. Here is your question.” And she read, “If there is one feature you could change about yourself, what would it be, and why?”
Jennifer Croft thought a moment, lips pressed tightly together. “I wouldn’t change a thing about myself,” she began tentatively, “because I’m happy with who I am. Many people feel they need to change something about themselves to be happy, but I believe it’s best to just accept yourself as you are. Each one of us is unique, and each one of us has a special place in this world. It’s best for us to accept that rather than dwell on what’s good or
