** Awarded Honorable Mention, October 2007, Writer's Digest 76th Annual Writing Competition, Children's Fiction category, selected from over 19,000 entries
** Awarded Honorable Mention, August 17, 2006, SCBWI - Southern Breeze Writing Contest for illustrated children's books, including fictional picture books, easy readers, and poems.
** Awarded Honorable Mention, February 18, 2006, "Storydynamics - Discovering Ease" story competition.
QUEEN BEA
By Elizabeth O. Dulemba
572 word count
Endpapers:
Title Page:
Title Page:
Beatrice was bigger than most kids her age, and they teased her non-stop, especially Jake Varro. He was downright mean.
The only thing that got Beatrice through each day was helping her Grandpa Hank with his honeybees after school.
Grandpa Hank taught Beatrice to calm the bees with smoke so they could remove the honey without being stung.
“You have a knack for beekeeping,” Grandpa Hank said.
Beatrice loved the honeybees so much, her Grandma Lynn knitted her a one of a kind, yellow and black striped sweater.
“I can’t wear this!” Beatrice tried to explain.
“Nonsense. You look adorable,” her Grandma said. “The other children will be jealous when you wear it to school tomorrow.”
“Look at the Bumble Bee!” Jake Varro laughed. “I wonder if it stings.”
Beatrice tried to disappear, but the sweater was just too much.
At recess, Beatrice hid behind a tree, but the children found her.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz,” they teased as Beatrice fought back tears.
Suddenly she heard a familiar sound, the buzz of real bees somewhere close by. She looked up and saw a dark mass clinging to a branch above their heads.
“Honeybees!”
Just then, Jake Varro threw a pine cone at Beatrice. He missed her completely, but hit the swarm of bees dead on.
Laughter turned to screams as the children ran back to school. “Bees! Bees!” they yelled.
“Be calm and they won’t hurt you,” Beatrice said, but the children were too scared.
Beatrice didn’t get stung one time as she slowly made her way from the playground.
“We’ve never had a problem like this,” their teacher said. “I don’t know what to do.”
From the back of class, Beatrice slowly raised her hand. “Mrs. Spokes, I know what to do. Those are honeybees. My Grandpa is a beekeeper.
He can bring a box to put the bees in and take them someplace else.”
They called Grandpa Hank who arrived a short time
later.
"I need my grand-daughter's help," he said.
The children watched Beatrice direct the truck as Grandpa Hank backed it up under the tree.
They stared as Beatrice and her Grandpa climbed in right under the honeybees. Beatrice puffed smoke at the buzzing mass until they were calm.
Grandpa Hank grabbed the end of the branch and gave it a sharp snap. The entire mass of bees fell into the box.
“Lookie,” Grandpa Hank said. “There’s the Queen.”
“Which one?” Beatrice asked.
“She’s the biggest. See her?” he asked. “That’s how you can pick her out.”
Beatrice smiled.
When Beatrice returned to class, the children cheered.
“Did you get stung? Weren’t you scared?” they asked. “How did you learn to do that?”
“My Grandpa taught me how to take care of honeybees,” she said. “He even showed me the Queen Bee in the hive at the playground.”
“Queen Bea, that’s it!” The children declared it Beatrice’s new nickname.
“Come sit by me. No sit by me!” Suddenly, Beatrice had lots of new friends.
Jake Varro was the only one who continued to tease Beatrice, but even he was quiet when she wore the yellow and black striped sweater. She wore it a lot.
School became much easier for Beatrice, but she still preferred the calm afternoons with her Grandpa Hank and the honeybees.
# # #
|
