Candace McFly: Undercover Spy Case #1 The Botched Beauty Pageant

By Kathy Mansfield

Would you do anything to help your friends? Even if it meant facing one of your biggest fears?

Candace is not your typical third grader—or your typical girl for that matter. She’s not into her appearance or competing in the Li’l Miss Live Oak pageant like all her friends are or the ladies in her family were. Her mama was a Li’l Miss Live Oak, her grandmother was…her great-grandmother too. But she has no interest in competing even though it’s her year to. Plus, there’s that little stage fright issue she has.

But she does love to figure out puzzles and mysteries! Her best friend, Arnold, isn’t like other boys their age either, but his quirky ways make him the perfect sidekick who always keeps things interesting.

Normally, life in a small town can be dull. But not in Live Oak. School has just ended, and Live Oak’s pageant season has just begun, along with mysterious happenings to the contestants. Candace’s friend Anna Kate swims up to Candace and Arnold at the School’s Out for Summer Soiree, requesting Candace’s help. Telling her a tale so unbelievable, Candace can’t help but be reeled in as more bizarre events keep occurring to her friends.

To truly find the culprit, Candace must make one of the toughest choices of her life—go undercover, becoming a contestant in Li’l Miss Live Oak, overcome her stage fright phobia, and catch whoever is trying to botch the beauty pageant. With Arnold by her side, anything’s possible, but will they solve it in time to crown the next Li’l Miss Live Oak?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662475115

Book preview

Chapter 1

Puppies, Puzzles, and Potatoes

oblivious: (adj) not aware of or not concerned about what is happening around one

I, Candace McFly, am not your typical third grader. I’m not even your typical girl. While most girls my age are already into doing their hair, wearing cute outfits, or going for mani-pedis, I would rather scrub my bathroom floor with a toothbrush. Well, maybe not that extreme, but I’m definitely not interested in how I look…not yet, if ever.

For me, my idea of a good time is eating something chocolate and being in a room full of puppies, golden retriever puppies preferably, with them climbing all over me covering my face with sweet puppy-breath smooches. But since I’m allergic to long-haired dogs and chocolate gave me hives the last few times I’ve eaten it, I’ll have to stick with my next favorite thing. Figuring out puzzles. Not the five-hundred-piece kind that creates a pretty picture, but puzzles that people need me to figure out. In particular, that kids need me to figure out.

Since I’m an only child, my parents have always spoken to me like I was another adult. My mother was a teacher before she had me and always preached about how important it was to keep reading. How reading was the key to challenging our minds and learning as many new words as possible. The key to sounding like you haven’t lived in a small town like Live Oak, Georgia, all your life.

Most kids’ parents read fun books filled with colorful pictures to their kids, like One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish or Clifford the Big Red Dog. But not Mama. My baby book shows pictures of her reading Charlotte’s Web and Trumpet of the Swans to me as a toddler.

Apparently, her strategy worked because then she and Daddy started speaking to me throwing in big words like procrastinating and decontaminate.

Candace, quit procrastinating and go decontaminate your room. Then you will be able to go outside and play.

Because of repeated conversations like that, I have quite the vocabulary for someone my age. When I’m gabbing to friends or chatting with classmates, it’s easy to forget to use kid talk and not use words like exhilarated or enthusiastically.

Then there’s Arnold, my best friend. Although we didn’t start off that way exactly. See, Arnold is great and all, but he has some quirks about him that not everyone cares for.

It all began when Arnold showed up as the new kid at our school, Live Oak Elementary. In Mrs. Miller’s class to be exact.

First, I need to explain a little bit about life in Live Oak. The people of Live Oak have been living here for generations, so everybody knows everybody. The same kids have been together since preschool days with playdates as babies. So for someone new to start at our school was infrequent, uncommon.

Mrs. Miller was right in the middle of teaching our math lesson, Ways to Make 10. Six plus four, fifteen minus five, three plus seven, you get the drift. Mrs. Miller took her math lessons very seriously and wanted her budding mathematicians to be just as passionate about number sense as she was. To be interrupted was a no-no. Especially the type of interruption that only a kid like Arnold could provide.

Knock, knock.

Mrs. Miller, my apologies for disrupting your math time, but I have a new classmate that I’d like to introduce to everyone, said Ms. Berryhill.

New student? New students rarely came to our school. Who could possibly be moving into Live Oak and why? From what Mama said, most people were itching to get out of Live Oak and never look back.

Standing next to our guidance counselor, Ms. Berryhill, was a tall, gangly kid with freckles, crazy, light-brown hair spiked up in all directions, who wore a goofy grin on his face.

Class, I’d like to introduce your new classmate, Arnold Archibald. He and his family have just moved here from…from… Where did you say you moved here from again, Arnold? asked Ms. Berryhill.

All the little girls idolized Ms. Berryhill not only because she was a former Miss Live Oak, and that was every little girl’s dream—to grow up to be a Miss Live Oak, but she always had a kind word to all, was a snazzy dresser, and had perfect hair the color of chestnuts. When you spoke with Ms. Berryhill, she paid attention like you were the only person on the planet, savoring every word.

"Remember, I just told you that my family moved here from Idaho, the Potato Capital of the World, where in one year, they produce over one million potatoes to make into crinkle-cut fries, breakfast-style potatoes, Southern-style hash browns, mashed potatoes, julienned…," Arnold rambled on, still counting off the kinds of potato products on his fingers. He’d run out of fingers and needed to start counting on his toes with how much he knew about different potato dishes!

Why, thank you, Arnold! Ms. Berryhill interrupted, which was unusual for her. She’d usually let kids talk and talk until there was nothing left to say.

"I’m confident Mrs. Miller and your new classmates would love to hear more about potatoes later."

Arnold reluctantly stopped his impromptu informational report of the many potato products from Idaho. Mrs. Miller, already flustered that her math lesson had been halted this long, quickly welcomed him and suggested that he take the seat in the very last row at the very back of the classroom, far, far away from her desk. Even as a six-year-old, I knew what Mrs. Miller was up to placing Arnold’s desk there.

Sure thing, Mrs. Miller! Good thing I can see the board from way back here since I have twenty-twenty vision and am farsighted, Arnold replied as he started making his way back to his new seat.

He must not have been nearsighted because Arnold didn’t happen to notice a spill from someone’s water bottle that had puddled on the floor directly in his path. We hadn’t spotted it either since we were concentrating on our math lesson and not allowed to get out of our seats. With one step, Arnold’s front foot slid like someone trying to walk on a slippery ice rink wearing tennis shoes without any traction. Waving both of his arms wildly in the air, Arnold tried to balance himself. But instead, his feet and head switched places, and he landed square on his back with a huge kerplunk!

Time stood still like it does in the movies when something unbelievable happens. No one in the class made a sound, and I could literally hear the seconds tick-ticking away on our classroom clock. Not even Mrs. Miller or Ms. Berryhill made a peep or moved a muscle to help the new kid. They were in shock and frozen in place! All our mouths were hanging open in disbelief, waiting to see if our teacher would snap out of it and spring into action and call 911 for Arnold and his possible cracked cranium. Arnold sure knew how to make an entrance!

But his head must have been just fine because before we could even blink, he popped right up like nothing had happened and said, Did you know that Idaho is also the Lentil Capital of the World? What is a lentil, you may wonder?

As Arnold blabbed on and on about what lentils were, how they could improve our diets and help with digestion by eating them regularly, I knew right then and there that I must take this poor boy under my wing if he was going to survive the day in Room 1-A.

Chapter 2

Boys, Baking, and Baseball

momentous: (adj) of a decision, event, or change; of great important or significance, especially in its bearing on the future

But that was then, and this is now…two years later. Under my tutelage, Arnold went from wordy and nerdy to…well not as wordy and nerdy. At least, he finally ran out of things to tell everyone about potatoes and lentils.

Georgia is a long way from Idaho, and Arnold and I had come a long way since the first grade. Today was actually the last day of school. The last day of third grade. While I was excited at the thought of being an almost-fourth grader, Arnold was somewhat melancholy. Third grade had been an amazing year for both of us at Live Oak ES, especially for Arnold. All through first and second grade, Arnold was taunted and teased because of his undying love of potato dishes and the need to tell anyone and everyone about them.

Boys, like Billy Jenkins and Nate Hawkins, crowned him Mr. Potato Head and Lentil Lame-O from Idaho. Kids can be mean, and the names stuck and evolved into other variations. I had to give it to Arnold though. If it bothered him, you would never have noticed. Arnold would laugh right along with them and say, Those are hilarious, but what about ‘French Fry Freak’ or ‘Idaho Imbecile?’

Arnold, what are you thinking giving those bullies more names to call you? Why help those jerks out? I asked.

He looked at me with the face of a chameleon, masking the hurt he really felt with a sad smile. Candace, I’d rather laugh with them than be laughed at.

For bullies, like Billy and Nate, it’s not as fun to taunt someone when he actually laughed with them. When he actually made potato dishes like his infamous Cheesy-Peasy hash brown casserole and shared it with them at lunch. Or when Arnold baked Ooey-Gooey fudge brownies whenever there was a birthday in our class.

While baking and being a foodie isn’t the manliest of skills, it sure came in handy to quiet those wolves in boys’ clothing and their pack. The best thing about Arnold I learned rather quickly was that he treated others like he wanted to be treated, and he didn’t care about what anyone else thought about him. Except for me, Candace McFly, Arnold’s one and only best friend.

Third grade was a magical year for Arnold where it finally clicked that he wasn’t so much the Weirdo from Idaho. Did all the teasing stop? Not quite. But occurrences were few and far between. Yes, Arnold was quirky and squirrelly, but he made people laugh and recited any sports factoid without batting an eyelash. He was like a walking sports almanac or a sports section in the newspaper.

To his dad’s dismay, Arnold was about as uncoordinated as they come. The term two left feet definitely applied to him. He’d never become a star athlete like his dad once was, but he knew anything and everything about any sport past and present.

Boys, like Billy and Nate, were surprisingly impressed by his sports know-how and would try to trip him up on sports trivia.

Arnold, who in history has had the record for the farthest home runs hit? Billy challenged.

That’s a piece of fudge ripple chocolate cake, silly! First there was Adam Dunn at 535 feet, then Reggie Jackson at 532 feet, and finally Dave Kingman at 530 feet, Arnold replied.

Oh yeah? What teams did they play on, and what years did they hit their homeruns? Nate countered.

Adam Dunn was on the Cincinnati Reds, August 10, 2004. Reggie Jackson hit his during the All-Star game in 1971, but he played for the New York Yankees. Dave Kingman was on the Chicago Cubs, 1979, Arnold reported without taking a breath.

Try as they may, Billy, Nate, and anyone else with even the smallest knowledge of sports statistics would attempt to stump Arnold. To this day, it hasn’t happened yet, earning Arnold some due respect. Mind you, it wasn’t a lot of respect, but he’d take whatever he could get.

Candace, I can’t believe third grade is done. Finished. Kaput. This was my year! The year of Arnold! he said, raising both fists in the air, cheering like Freddie Freeman had just hit a homerun.

Yep, it sure was. All of your hard work paid off. All of your ‘kill them with kindness’ finally clicked, I agreed.

That’s why I don’t want it to end. I’ve waited 350 school days for this to happen.

I looked at him with a look he was extremely used to. My What in the world are you talking about? kind of look.

You don’t remember that Idaho schools start after Labor Day in September unlike schools in Georgia that start in August, the hottest month of the year. What was Georgia thinking? Anyway, because of that, I missed the first ten days of school since my parents had no earthly idea that anyone would even think of beginning the school year any time before Labor Day. Arnold rambled on. So if each school year is 180 days which is 360 days total in first and second grade minus the first ten days I missed in first, equals 350 days.

And you can bet that Arnold’s parents did not let him miss one single day of those 350 days in first and second grade!

Chapter 3

Mysteries, Misfortune, and Money

grace: (noun) courteous goodwill

Third grade was also an amazing year for me because that’s when I discovered a hidden talent that I not only really enjoyed but one that came in handy around school.

Ever since I can remember—probably back as early as three years old—I’ve been a grappler, a problem-solver. Most little kids would cry if they couldn’t reach or open something, but not me. My parents have hours and hours of annoying home videos of me, their only child, trying to figure out life’s many challenges.

One time I was sitting on the floor for over thirty minutes trying to determine how to build something with Tinkertoys Daddy had bought for me. Instead of throwing a tantrum, I tried different ways to connect the sticks together so they would stay put and make something. Finally, I figured out that there were holes in a round connecting piece to link them. I built shapes, a house, a book, anything with straight edges. Once I got it and kept adding more sticks and more connectors, the biggest smile lit up my chubby little face. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that my parents created problems on purpose for me to solve on my own.

I still love a good puzzle, so I was extremely happy to help anyone who needed some assistance. Assistance like when Manuel’s lunch money kept coming up missing. This had been happening for the last three weeks. Our teacher, Mr. Herman, always told us to turn in our lunch money the minute we walked in the door labeled and ready for deposit.

Manuel’s mom never let him get ice cream because she was afraid he’d get more cavities after the visit he’d just had at the dentist. He was on a strict regimen of healthy foods at home. Friday was either Pizza Day or Chicken Nuggets Day, and that was the only time his mom would let him splurge on junk food. Manuel is one of the few kids in America who does not like pizza, so he would keep his lunch money in his backpack instead of turning it into Mr. Herman. He would use the money to buy double the ice cream instead.

Another classmate caught on to his plan and started taking his money on Fridays, pretending to need to use the bathroom while the rest of our class was at a Connection, like Art, PE, or Writing Lab. Lunch was right after Connections, so the thief wouldn’t be holding the stolen funds for long.

To make a long story short, after hearing of Manuel’s stolen stash of cash, I kept track of who would ask to use the bathroom right before the end of Connections on Fridays and was able to detect a pattern with a few possible suspects. With Arnold’s help, we were able to set a trap in which the thief would actually be caught red-handed! Instead of money being in the baggy like it usually was, we poured red paint in it. Manuel had it placed carefully so that it was easy to grab but not easy to see and wouldn’t wreck his backpack.

"Class, put some pep in your step and grab your lunch boxes so we can head on down to the cafeteria and get our lunch on! chanted Mr. Herman. Oh ma goodness! he then exclaimed as he entered our classroom. What do we have here?"

On the floor sat a girl in our class named Ashley sobbing and sobbing. Her hands were caked in red paint, and the baggy in question lay right beside her. Our plan had worked brilliantly but didn’t yield the happiest result like we had hoped. Come to find out that Ashley was taking Manuel’s money because she was hungry, and he was the only student who never turned in his lunch money. Her dad had lost his job. She wanted ice cream so badly, but that was a luxury her parents could only afford in better times. She could get ice cream on Fridays because of Manuel’s scheme that Ashley had watched him pull off time and again.

That was a sad mystery to solve, but it did have a happy ending. Manuel fessed up to his mom what he had been doing. She disapproved of his sneakiness but agreed to let him indulge in ice cream once a week since he ate healthfully the rest of it. For lying to her, she said he could use his allowance money to treat Ashley to an ice cream every Friday until her situation got better.

Other mysteries came my way like when our class pet, Hermie the Hamster, named in honor of Mr. Herman, escaped or when Caroline kept receiving Secret Admirer notes, Arnold and I deduced who was doing the admiring.

Naturally, we weren’t at all surprised when Anna Kate swam up to Arnold and me at the School’s Out for Summer Swim Soiree exclaiming, Candace, do I ever need your help somethin’ awful?

Chapter 4

Ponies, Pageants, and Problems

reminisce: (verb) indulge in enjoyable recollection of past events

Here is a little history about Georgia. The Live Oak is the state tree and also the name of our elementary school since the land it was built on was covered in them. Live Oak Elementary is in the small town of, you guessed it, Live Oak near the Georgia-Florida state line. This neck of the woods is also home to the Live Oak festival which is the annual kickoff to summer and the kickoff to a tradition generation after generation counted down the days until…the onset of pageant season starting with Li’l Miss Live Oak.

My mother, Merilou McFly (Merilou Johnson before she married Daddy), was crowned Li’l Miss Live Oak as a child; her mother was a former Li’l Miss Live Oak as was her mother, my great-great-grandmother. Why couldn’t the women in my family be known for something world-changing like performing the first kidney transplant or being the first woman to walk on the moon?

It was expected that I would carry on this age-old tradition. Except as a little girl, I refused to wear dresses and absolutely hated to wear my hair any other way but a high, side ponytail. Luckily, I grew out of the side ponytail phase, but dresses are still not my thing. That pretty much ruled out any hope of me hopping on the pageant train no matter how hard my mother and grandmother tried to entice or bribe me to do it.

Candace, Grandma said she’d buy you a pony if you’ll put on this lovely dress and just walk across the stage with that smile of yours, Mama pleaded.

Or…

Candace, Daddy said he’d take you to Disney World if you will just ride in the Live Oak Days parade with him and smile pretty for the cameras!

When that didn’t work…

Candace! Women in our family have always won the Li’l Miss Live Oak pageant when they’ve competed. It’s your year to compete. Do you want to be the first in our family who doesn’t compete and be crowned? she cried, literally cried. There’s nothing like that crown touching your head and the emcee announcing to all of Live Oak, ‘Our next Li’l Miss Live Oak is…Merilou Johnson! It’s a moment I’ll remember as long as I live! Mama said dreamily, reliving her moment.

Yes, missing it was actually fine with me. Besides despising fancy gowns and bouffant hairdos, I was deathly afraid to speak in front of large crowds of people. Even people I’ve known all my life.

Funny that Mama offered Grandma to buy me a pony because I have a nervous tick that causes me to whinny like a horse if I’d have to speak in those type of situations.

But because I hated to see Mama cry, I asked Could I at least have some time to think about it? knowing full well it wasn’t going to ever happen. The look on her face was like giving a dog a bone, a look of utter gratitude and hope.

I’d learn later, never say never.

Chapter 5

Diving, Drama, and Dogs

entwine: (verb) wind or twist together; interweave

The School’s Out for Summer Swim Soiree had just gotten underway at the Live Oak Country Club, and Arnold and I had hopped into the pool. All around us, kids were doing cannonballs off the diving board, slipping down the water slide, playing Sharks and Minnows in the five feet deep since that was still considered the deep end for us. Arnold and I preferred just floating on our pool noodle and raft for now.

Candace, did you hear me? Do I ever need your help somethin’ awwwwful? repeated Anna Kate in her Southern drawl. You’re the only one I could think to turn to, she said dramatically.

Hi, Anna Kate. What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! I exclaimed.

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