Read Online Brownie Points by Jennifer Coburn - Free Book Online Page B

I took in the rest. “Logan, I am really impressed.” Would it be parentally incorrect to hang Logan’s piece in the family room while suggesting Maya hang hers in her bedroom? My daughter’s was indeed lovely, but Logan’s was art. “This is going to take days to dry, you know, right?”
    “I know,” Logan replied.
    “You didn’t spray it with anything, did you?”
    “Hello,” he said rolling his eyes and holding out a hand signaling for me to stop. He reminded me of a young Jorge — God willing, minus the Mighty Mouse fantasies.
    ™˜
    That night at dinner, I was both thrilled and relieved that Jason was duly impressed with Logan’s family crest. Sometimes when he comes home from work, he’s so exhausted he barely makes it through a meal with a few grunts of agreement. “That’s some deep stuff, buddy,” Jason said, tapping his fist against his heart twice. “Mind if I take this to the station and hang it up?”
    “Oh,” I said with extended disappointment. “I wanted to hang it in the family room.”
    “It’s too small for the family room,” Logan said. “Daddy can bring it to the station.”
    “Thanks,” Jason said, ruffling Logan’s curls. Turning to Maya, he asked, “You do one too?”
    “Mine sucks,” she said.
    “It does not suck!” I protested.
    “It ain’t deep ,” she said, mimicking her father’s words.
    “Lemme see it, Maya,” he said.
    When she brought it to the table, I could hear Jason’s internal debate as he scanned the collage that seemed to say: With the right outfit, you too can have girl power! It looked like it could be a CD cover for a new band called the Fashion Grrrls. On one hand, Jason didn’t want to hurt Maya’s feelings by telling her that her artwork was not, in fact, poignant like her brother’s. On the other hand, we both felt that kids are pretty good bullshit detectors and that lying to them only undermined our credibility. As Jason looked at Maya’s collage, I wondered what he would say.
    “Not everything needs to be deep,” he said, handing it back to her. “It looks good. Definitely makes a statement about who you are right now. I like it, and I love the artist.”
    He always knew the perfect thing to say to Maya. I hoped when the time came Jason would have just the right words for Logan too.
    ™˜
    That night I went into Maya’s bedroom to tuck her in, something she reluctantly admitted that she still enjoyed, but also promised me that she’d die of humiliation if I ever revealed. “You still awake?” I whispered as I stood in her bedroom doorway.
    “Yeah, come in,” she whispered back. “Can you tickle my arm?” As I sat on the side of her bed, stroking her arm, I asked how she liked our new home. “I love it.”
    “You seem to have found your niche here,” I said. “Ashley and Bianca are nice girls.”
    “They are,” she purred.
    “So what are the other kids in your grade like?”
    “Nice,” she said, sprawling herself out like a cat on the sunny spot on the rug.
    “Nice to you, or nice to everyone?”
    “Nice to everyone,” she said before yawning.
    “Nice to Logan?”
    “A couple of kids pick on him, but he hasn’t been beaten up since that first day,” she said.
    “Maya, that was last week,” I reminded her. “What do you mean by picking on him?”
    “They call him names, but Logan doesn’t really care.”
    “What do you mean they call him names?” I said, a bit more urgently. “What kind of names?”
    “Mom, I’m telling you, Logan doesn’t care. He just ignores them.”
    “Okay, but what names do they call him?”
    “First they called him the Clean Queen ’cause of what happened at Max’s party, with the horse poo,” Maya reported. “But I guess that was too long, so now they just call him Froot Loops.”
    “Froot Loops?!” I repeated, horrified both by the name and my daughter’s casual acceptance of this.
    “It’s a cereal, Mom.”
    “I know what Froot Loops are. I’m at the