Dedicated to my little queen, Kylie Jean —MP
Table of Contents
Dedication
All About Me, Kylie Jean!
Chapter 1: Going to the Farm
Chapter 2: Making a Plan
Chapter 3: Lilly’s List
Chapter 4: Pa to the Rescue
Chapter 5: Fairy Garden Picture
Chapter 6: Poster Party
Chapter 7: The Letter
Chapter 8: Three Hundred Words
Chapter 9: A Ride
Chapter 10: Finally Done
Chapter 11: An Extra-Elegant Dress
Chapter 12: The Blueberry Festival
Chapter 13: Time to Shine!
Chapter 14: The Parade
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Glossary
Talk!
Be Creative!
From Momma’s Kitchen
The Fun Doesn’t Stop Here!
Copyright
Back Cover
My name is Kylie Jean Carter. I live in a big, sunny, yellow house on Peachtree Lane in Jacksonville, Texas with Momma, Daddy, and my two brothers, T.J. and Ugly Brother.
T.J. is my older brother, and Ugly Brother is . . . well . . . he’s really a dog. Don’t you go telling him he is a dog. Okay? I mean it. He thinks he is a real true person.
He is a black-and-white bulldog. His front looks like his back, all smashed in. His face is all droopy like he’s sad, but he’s not.
His two front teeth stick out, and his tongue hangs down. (Now you know why his name is Ugly Brother.)
Everyone I love to the moon and back lives in Jacksonville. Nanny, Pa, Granny, Pappy, my aunts, my uncles, and my cousins all live here. I’m extra lucky, because I can see all of them any time I want to!
My momma says I’m pretty. She says I have eyes as blue as the summer sky and a smile as sweet as an angel. (Momma says pretty is as pretty does. That means being nice to the old folks, taking care of little animals, and respecting my momma and daddy.)
But I’m pretty on the outside and on the inside. My hair is long, brown, and curly.
I wear it in a ponytail sometimes, but my absolute most favorite is when Momma pulls it back in a princess style on special days.
I just gave you a little hint about my big dream. Ever since I was a bitty baby I have wanted to be an honest-to-goodness beauty queen. I even know the wave. It’s side to side, nice and slow, with a dazzling smile. I practice all the time, because everybody knows beauty queens need to have a perfect wave.
I’m Kylie Jean, and I’m going to be a beauty queen. Just you wait and see!
The sun is so hot today! My can of orange soda started getting warm as soon as I walked out of the Drive-N-Go with Momma. We’re going to the farm to help Nanny and Pa pick blueberries in the blueberry patch. My cousin Lucy will be there too. She and I like to pick a few and eat a few.
We climb back in the van and the heat sucks all the air outta me like a popped balloon, so I sip my orange soda long and slow.
Momma is busy driving, but I’m busy thinking about being a beauty queen.
My brother T.J. says they don’t let little girls be beauty queens, but T.J. is only right half the time. That means I have a chance. Ugly Brother doesn’t say much about it. He usually doesn’t say much about anything.
Before long, Momma turns on Lickskillet Road, and we can see the farm. Nanny and Pa have a red house and a red barn. They have horses, a huge garden, and a pond. It is magnificent!
Pa is standing in the blueberry patch. He shouts, “Where y’all been? I’ve been workin’ since the rooster crowed.”
“Oh Daddy, you know I have things to do at home, too,” Momma tells Pa, smiling at him as we climb out of the car. “I’ve been tryin’ out my new recipes for the Blueberry Bake-Off.”
She laughs and adds, “Don’t you go worrying now, Pa, I won’t make you wait two weeks for the Blueberry Festival to try it. I brought you a piece.”
My cousin Lucy runs over. “Let’s go play!” she says. Then she reaches for my orange soda. “Come on, Kylie Jean!” she shouts. “Just one sip! Pleeease.” But I frown and pull it away from her.
Momma turns. She says, “Kylie Jean, you share that soda with your cousin. Pretty is as pretty does.” Momma has her arms crossed. That’s how I know she means business.
I crinkle up my face a little, but I give Lucy a sip of my orange soda. Then we smile and head over to sit in the shade of a big tree.
Pretty soon, Pa calls us over to the big green tractor. He asks, “Who wants the first ride?”
Lucy and I look at each other. She knows I want the first ride. “Kylie Jean, since you gave me a sip of your orange soda, I want you to take the first turn,” Lucy says sweetly. Then we hug.
I climb up on the tractor and sit in front of Pa on the big seat. The tractor starts up, and it’s loud, like T.J.’s lawnmower gone crazy. Pa begins to drive out to the pond, and I wave just like a real beauty queen. The tractor is loud, but I pretend I’m in a parade.
The pond is deep, blue, and perfectly round. Just like the blueberries in the blueberry patch.
Suddenly an idea strikes my brain just like lightning. I could be the Blueberry Festival Queen!
The rest of the day, I spend my time picking blueberries and dreaming about being a beauty queen.
I need a plan if I’m going to be the Blueberry Queen.
One thing I know for sure about making a plan is that you need another person. Pa always says that two heads are better than one.
So on Saturday morning, I wake up real bright and early. Before I go downstairs to eat my blueberry pancakes, I start working on my plan.
First things first, I try to think of a person to help me.
The first person I think of is my cousin Lucy. The problem is, Lucy’s just a kid, like me. She won’t be able to help me. Plus, she’s kind of shy, and I need someone brave.
But Lucy has a big sister, Lilly. Lilly is good at figuring things out, so I give her a call on her cell phone.
She says, “Hey, Kylie Jean, what’s up? I’m at cheerleading practice. Is everything okay?”
“I need help with a special beauty queen project,” I tell her. “Can you help me?”
Lilly laughs. “Oh, aren’t you somethin’? Are you still stuck on being a beauty queen?” she asks.
I’m not so sure that’s funny. I wait a second, and then ask, “Are you still stuck on being a cheerleader?”
For a second, she gets kinda quiet. Then she says, “Okay, I see your point. When can I come over?”
“How about now?” I say.
Lilly laughs. “I’m busy right now, sugar,” she whispers. I hear a whistle blow. “I’ll be at your house at 2,” Lilly says. Then she hangs up.
I already have a partner, and I didn’t even eat breakfast yet! My plan is going just perfectly.
After I eat my cereal, I spend the morning helping our neighbor, Miss Clarabelle, weed her flowerbeds.
It’s a good thing it ain’t too hot yet, since weeding can be hard work. I think I could wilt just like one of those flowers.
Miss Clarabelle and I sit on the ground and look real careful. Finding weeds is like finding a bug in a rug. She’s wearing a really big purple hat and purple gardening gloves. Purple is her color.
I’m wearing my pink tennis shoes and a pair of gloves with pink bows. You guessed it! Pink is my color.
After pulling so many weeds, I’m covered with dirt. I tell Miss Clarabelle that I have a special meeting today, and I have to quit working. “But I’ll come back soon and help you out again,” I add.
Miss Clarabelle never stops pulling the weeds. She just says, “You run on,
sugar. You’ve been a lot of help to me today.”
I wave to her purple hat and run home across the yard, careful not to step in the flowers. Miss Clarabelle would say a crushed flower is a powerful sad thing.
I take a bath and put on a fancy dress. I want to look my best. When Lilly sees me looking so pretty, she’ll know I mean business.
Once I’m ready, I sit quietly in our fancy living room, which is right next to the front door. That’s where I’ll wait for my cousin.
I sit on the sofa, waiting for Lilly. I hear Momma’s tall clock tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock. Then I cross my arms just like Momma does when she’s waiting for something and it’s taking too long.
After a hundred years, the front door opens.
Lilly shouts, “Hey y’all, anyone here? Kylie Jean?” She doesn’t see me waiting in the living room.
I don’t shout back. Momma says shouting is not ladylike, and right now I’m trying my hardest to be a beauty queen. So instead of yelling, I gracefully hop off the sofa and walk over to the front door.
When I tap her on the back, Lilly lets out a scream! Then she spins around and says, “Kylie Jean, you scared the life outta me!”
When we’re done laughing, Lilly looks me over, top to toe. I cross my arms again and smile as she notices my pretty dress.
Lilly nods. “I see that you’re serious about this,” she says.
“I am,” I say. I grab her hand and ask, “What do we do first?”
“Let’s use T.J.’s computer,” Lilly says.
I know that’s a bad idea. Before I can stop myself, I snort. I put my hand over my mouth. Beauty queens do not snort!
“What’s so funny?” Lilly asks.
“You can use the computer if you can stand the smell in T.J.’s room,” I say. “Momma says it stinks worse than the pigsty down at Pa’s farm.”
Lilly makes a face and pulls her shirt up over her nose. Her eyes are laughing.
She says, “Okay, let’s do this.”
We push open the door and climb over T.J.’s dirty clothes, sports stuff, and smelly shoes. They cover the floor. I wave at T.J.’s sleeping hamster in its cage.
His computer screen is black. Lilly jiggles the mouse and the screen lights up with a picture of the Dallas Cowboys. Lilly goes on the Internet and types some stuff. Then she prints something out.
“This is the form you need to fill out to sign up for the pageant,” Lilly tells me. She sees me looking confused and adds, “The pageant is the beauty queen competition.”
“Right,” I say. “I know that.” Lilly winks.
We go back to the fancy living room.
“First things first,” Lilly says, sounding just like Momma when she says it. “We need to make a list.”
“What about that form?” I ask.
Lilly waves her hand. “We can fill that out later,” she tells me. She points at the paper. “There’s some other stuff you’re gonna need first.”
I lean over to look at the paper.
Lilly glances at me. Then she reads aloud, “All applicants for the Blueberry Queen must have the following: a sponsor, an entry fee of twenty-five dollars, a recent photo, posters, a recommendation letter, a three-hundred-word essay, and their own transportation.”
My mouth drops open.
“Are you serious?” I whisper.
Twenty-five dollars? Where am I supposed to get that? And I don’t even know what the rest of that stuff is. Being a beauty queen sounds way harder than I thought!
Lilly sits back on the sofa and stares at me. “Well, that’s quite a list, Kylie Jean,” she says. She puts her hand under her chin. I’m waiting for her to say something. All of a sudden, she looks at her watch. “Oh, I gotta run. I’ll help you out another time, okay?”
“What about the form?” I ask her. I’m feeling nervous. This is an awful lot of stuff to do!
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you fill it out.”
Just then, her cell phone rings. The ring sounds like a song from the KICK country radio station.
Lilly flips her phone open and says, “Hey. I’m on my way.” She nods her head a lot and says, “Hmm, yeah, okay.” Then she closes her phone and stuffs it in her pocket.
“I gotta scoot,” Lilly says. She grabs her cheerleading bag on the way to the front door. Then she gives me a wink and says, “Let me know when you get a sponsor.”
“Okay,” I tell her. There is one teensy tiny problem. I have no idea what a sponsor is.
I look out the window and watch as Lilly runs down the driveway to her car.
I’m still sitting on the sofa thinking about the sponsor when T.J. comes in. He says, “Hey lil’ bit, what you doin’ lookin’ all fancy?”
I ignore the question since I have one of my own. “T.J., what is a sponsor?” I ask.
He answers, “Someone who helps you out, you know, gives you money and stuff. Racecar drivers all get sponsors. Why?” He’s looking at me funny.
I smile sweetly and say, “No reason. Just askin’ so I’ll know.”
Now his face is all twisted up. He asks, “So you’ll know what?”
“Silly!” I say. “So I’ll know what a sponsor does.” T.J. knows a lot, but sometimes he just doesn’t pay much attention.
I need a sponsor, and I got an idea about how to get one. To do it, I have to wait till we go to Nanny and Pa’s house for Sunday dinner. I hate waiting. I keep telling myself, “First things first.” But I’m in an awful big hurry to be a beauty queen!
Finally, Sunday comes. As soon as I get to Nanny and Pa’s big red house after church, I see Lucy. I can’t wait to change and play with her. I run inside to put on my overalls. Momma doesn’t want me to get my nice clothes dirty.
When I come back outside, more cousins and aunts and uncles are there. The older girls are helping Nanny, Momma, and the aunts with the food. Pa, Daddy, and the uncles have set old doors up like tables and put folding chairs out. Lilly is fixing glasses of sweet tea.
My cousin Jake rings the old black iron dinner bell in the backyard. The kids all come running to the table. It’s loaded with fried chicken, rolls, purple hull peas, mashed taters, sliced tomaters, watermelon, and homemade fruit pies. Yum!
We fix our plates, and then Pa says a blessing. Then we can dig in!
We’re all laughing and eating and talking. Jake tells funny jokes. The grown-ups are all talking about boring stuff like work.
I don’t pay attention until I hear the aunts talking about the Blueberry Festival. They’re all wondering who will be the next queen.
“I heard Maggie Lou Butler is goin’ for it,” I hear Momma say. “And she is right pretty, and a nice girl too.” Now I’m listening to every word, but quick as a jackrabbit, they start talking about prices at the Piggly Wiggly. Lilly turns her head toward me and smiles secretly.
After we eat, Nanny and Pa walk over to their swing. They like to sit there together just like the true sweethearts they are.
I make my way over, hoping no one else follows me.
“Hello, Kylie Jean,” Pa says.
Without waiting, I say, “Pa, I got a business deal for you.” I’m pretty nervous and excited about my plan. I hop up and down on one leg.
Pa smiles. “Do you now, Miss Kylie Jean?” he asks. “I guess you better tell me about it quick, before you burst your bubble from sheer excitement.”
“Well,” I begin, “don’t you want Lickskillet Farm to be famous?”
“We’re famous enough already,” Nanny says.
“If you were to sponsor me in the Blueberry Festival pageant,” I tell her, “I could put Lickskillet Farm on ALL of my posters. Your farm would be extra famous!”
Nanny frowns. She asks, “Did you ask your momma about this, sugar?”
I shake my head and say, “No ma’am. It is a for sure surprise.”
When Pa laughs, it rumbles from deep in his belly. His eyes laugh, too. He pulls a wad of money out of his pocket. Then he tells me, “Ky
lie Jean, you sure are somethin’ else. How much money are we talkin’ about here?”
“Twenty-five dollars,” I tell him. “But I’m not somethin’ else. I’m goin’ to be the next Blueberry Queen!”
Pa smiles and hands me the money. “Thank you, Pa,” I say sweetly. I kiss his cheek. As I walk away, I stuff the money in my pocket. Then I take out my list. I can cross off “Sponsor” and “25 Dollars.” I’m on my way!
The next thing on my list is “photo,” so when I get up the next day, I start looking for my photo. I look in Momma’s room for the box of pictures.
When I find the box, I dump the pictures out on the floor, so I can look at them carefully. Suddenly I hear a sound.
It sounds like a pig.
Ugly Brother is standing at the door. His pink tongue is dripping with doggie drool, and doggie drool and photos do NOT go together. I jump up and grab him by the collar.
Staring into his eyes, I tell him, “Ugly Brother, I know you came to help me be a beauty queen, but this is not the way you can help me out. You have to wait until I tell you a job to do.”
Ugly Brother says, “Ruff, ruff.” He knows the plan. I let go and he sits down to watch me.
I look at all of the pictures. Momma has millions of baby pictures of me, T.J., and Ugly Brother. Some of them are pretty cute. In some of them, my face is all red and squished.
I show Ugly Brother pictures of him as a bitty baby. He tries to lick one.
I quickly pull the picture away and say, “No licking! Just looking!” Then he puts his head under his paw.
There are pictures of Daddy and T.J. fishing. There are pictures of me, T.J., and Ugly Brother on Halloween, when I was dressed as a fairy princess. That would’ve been perfect, except that was the year T.J. went dressed as some kind of turtle. None of these pictures are right.
Suddenly an idea hits me like a brick. I need Pappy!
Pappy loves to take pictures. He even used to do it for a job. He has a black room to make pictures in and everything.
Kylie Jean Blueberry Queen Page 1
