Brownie Points by Jennifer Coburn

emails, anonymous fliers, and someone hung a sheet with Kendrick’s picture on the west wall of the school, full-on Ayatollah style.”
    “So, who won, who won the election?” I asked.
    “There’s the other issue,” Barb explained. “Kendrick ended up winning, and when the principal refused to do a recount with witnesses, Olivia accused her of fixing the vote.”
    “You’re kidding!”
    “Oh no she is not,” Mindy said. “I thought it was a ridiculous accusation too, but the principal came back from Thanksgiving break with a lot brighter looking eyes if you catch my drift.”
    I didn’t. “I don’t.”
    “Kendrick’s father is a plastic surgeon,” she explained.
    I paused for a moment to absorb this. “You think the elementary school principal fixed the election for a lid lift?”
    Upon further consideration, this seemed to fit the social landscape quite well. When Jason and I went to see the middle school principal after the incident with Max, she assured us that the school would investigate, suspend the boys and hold a sensitivity workshop. She said all the right words, but I couldn’t help notice her staring at Jason admiringly throughout the meeting. Finally, she asked how Jason managed to keep his teeth so white. Was it Crest Strips? Or did he do the blue laser treatment?
    Back at the Bunco game, Mindy concluded, “All I’m saying is that the elementary school principal took ten years off her face over one short holiday.” She nodded her head toward Val and Olivia. “Those two still haven’t gotten over it.”
    Michelle changed the subject, asking if I’d given any more thought to Maya joining the Girl Scout troop.
    “It’s a great resume builder,” said Mindy. “Colleges are all about community service these days.”
    Colleges?!
    “Colleges?!” snapped Val who overheard us, and injected herself into the discussion. “I’ve told you a thousand times that none of that even counts until next year.”
    It doesn’t count?
    Val explained. “You need to keep these kids fresh and hungry for community service so they don’t go into freshman year in high school so burnt out they can’t stand the sight of one more crack baby who needs rocking.”
    “Unbelievable,” Barb retorted, shaking her head with disgust.
    “Yeah,” Michelle said. “There aren’t any crack babies here.”

Chapter Five
    On the day of Maya’s first Girl Scout meeting, I’d planned to help Michelle with a craft called the “Family Crest” collage. The girls were to use magazine and newspaper images to communicate their family values. The troop supplied paint, glitter and trimmings because no family crest would be complete without rhinestones.
    I called Michelle with desperation in my voice. “Can Logan hang out at the Girl Scout meeting today? I’ve got to run to the city this afternoon to pick up my tire couch. Long story, but I need to get it today, so I need to leave in a few minutes to beat traffic.”
    “Gosh, of course,” she replied. “No problem.”
    “He can do his homework or read a book or something. Is that okay?”
    “Lisa, it’s really no problem at all. Don’t worry. The more the merrier.”
    ™˜
    I walked into the Four Circles Gallery through the studio door in the back and noticed a new artist’s supplies in my space. I felt a pang of jealousy followed by relief when I saw that Jorge hadn’t displayed any of her paintings in the front gallery. It was as petty as Val and Olivia’s elementary school election feud, but I took some satisfaction knowing that I had not been replaced completely. When I returned to the studio, I noticed things I’d stopped seeing over the years, like the rolls of canvas shoved in the corner, a round wicker basket of rags and a stainless steel sink with paint brushes carelessly thrown into it. The clutter had been so familiar it had become invisible to me. But now, seeing it again, I wanted to hug the coat rack draped with smocks. I resolved that when I