Brownie Points Read Online Free PDF Page A

her brow, Ashley came to the steps of the stage and threw her arms around her neck. “OMG, Maya Taylor, who are you ?” As the girls gathered around the newly anointed It Girl, Ashley announced, “You are so sitting at our lunch table.”
    Class started the following Tuesday and Maya was already the coolest girl entering the eighth grade at Los Corderos Middle School.
    Logan, on the other hand, didn’t fare quite as well at his first birthday party in Utopia.

Chapter Three
    Logan and I were greeted at the front door by Max McDoyle’s mother, Olivia, who was dressed in a royal blue and gold queen’s gown and bejeweled tiara. She led us through the house and pointed with her scepter to the bedlam in the backyard. I felt overheated just looking at her, but Olivia seemed to be one of those women who Botoxed her armpits to keep from sweating. I could imagine her putting the final touches on her make-up as she looked into a fully lit vanity table, saying something like, “Being lovely means never having to say you’re comfortable.”
    Boys jumped in an inflated castle, tossing each other around like they were in a fight to the death. One suburban urchin made a whip out of fruit leather while another forced other guests to eat the “dragon eyes” he created by shoving black jelly beans into the centers of marshmallows. My son shot me a look as if to beg, Can we leave now?
    “It’ll be fun, Logan,” I whispered, leading him toward the party with my hand on his back. It was the same way Jason gently nudged me into the house the first time the realtor opened the door to show it.
    Max’s father was not dressed as the king of the castle, but in an extra large red Izod shirt and Bermuda shorts. A gregarious fellow, he almost looked like the rotund court jester. Jim held out his arms as he started walking toward us. “You must be the new fire captain’s boy,” he said, addressing Logan with a hearty and welcoming laugh. “Jim McDoyle. How ya doin’, sport?”
    “Wow, this is some party,” I said after introductions were made. Like the Bionic Woman, Olivia heard the praise from across the yard and quickly joined the conversation.
    “I put so much of myself into these parties,” Olivia said, glancing at her husband. “It’s so kind of you to notice.” Her head seemed in a perpetual tilt as if she were trying to show how sincere and interested she was. Her hairdresser must have a love-hate thing going with Olivia. On one hand, her auburn mane was gorgeous, but how could you ever tell if the cut was even with that floppy head of hers?
    “Is that muslin?” Logan asked of the fort’s exterior.
    “Huh?” Jim blurted.
    “Muslin,” Logan repeated, now aiming the question at Olivia.
    “Why yes it is, Logan.”
    “Is who Muslim?” Jim asked.
    “Mus lin , Jim,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes. Oh, the embarrassment of one’s husband not being familiar with pattern sheeting. “Men, what are you going to do with them, right?” Returning to Logan, Olivia continued, “Go to the royal closet and get yourself a tunic.” She pointed to a foil-covered box, which contained cut pillowcases and rope-belts. “Get yourself an inflatable shield and sword too.”
    “Are the masks there?” Logan asked.
    “Masks?”
    “Face masks,” Logan explained, holding his hand over his face to illustrate.
    Olivia was a southern woman who wasn’t actually from the south. She was born and raised in Oregon, but she moved her body with the flirtatious fluidity of Scarlett O’Hara, gently flitting her hand from people’s shoulders to their arms. When she spoke to children, she placed her soft hand on their cheek. “You won’t need a mask with inflated swords, honey,” she said, laughing.
    “Gloves?” Logan asked.
    “No gloves either. Go on, you’ll be fine,” she assured him.
    Logan shrugged his shoulders and gave her a look that asked if she knew anything about fencing.
    Turning to her husband, Olivia asked, “What time