Free Recipes for Disaster by Josie Brown Page B

“Um … no need, Mom. She’s gotten another ride to school.”
    “With whom?” If that were the case, Babs’ mother, Janine, would have called me. We carpool because Babs’ parents are going through a bitter divorce. Janine gets up early for her shift at our local hospital.
    “Just … someone at school.” Guilt is written all over Mary’s face.
    The boy—what was his name again? Oh yeah, Blake McAllister.
    I stop the car. “Who is it, Mary?” 
    The girls exchange glances.
    “Mom, don’t be mad, but …”
    I hold my breath.
    “She’s biking in.”
    “But … why?”
    “Because I told her I thought it would be best if we weren’t seen together.” Mary shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Mom, nobody likes her at school.”
    Trisha frowns. “But  you  like her—don’t you?”
    Mary shrugs. “I used to. But sometimes people change.”
    “Just last week, the three of you were the best of friends,” I point out. “It’s been that way since the three of you started kindergarten together. Tell me, Mary, who has changed, you, or Babs? And if so, how? Why?”
    Wendy and Mary exchange glances. Finally Wendy says, “Erin doesn’t like her. She knows Blake thinks she’s cute. If we hang with Babs, we’ll be pegged as losers, too. And we’re not!”
    “Mom, you don’t know what they’re saying about Babs! They say that she’s putting out. They write mean things about her on Facebook. They write messages to all the people she’s friended there, and ask if they’re losers, too. It’s not our fault that Babs made an enemy of the most popular girl in school.”
    “No, not at all. But it’s also not Babs’ fault that she’s pretty, and that some boy thinks so, too. And it will be your fault if you desert your friend now, when she needs you more than ever. How would you feel if you were the one being deserted?”
    In unison, the girls blanch at this thought. 
    “I … I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Mary admits. “We’ll work it out.” 
    I smile at her through the rearview mirror. “I know you’ll do the right thing.” 
    If only she’d smile back.
    Instead, she opens her history book and pretends to read.

    “It’s always such a joy to visit the great state of California,” purrs Governor Rebecca Davis to her  Good Afternoon LA!  host. “The folks here are so warm and friendly!” She points to the bouquet of flowers in her lap. “A little girl gave me this—your California poppies, are they not? Such a bright spot of color! Too bad she’s not old enough to vote!” 
    This Southerner, whose honeyed homilies are delivered with icy smiles, is the next candidate entrusted to our care. 
    The interview is being taped in her swanky suite, high in the Casa del Mar, a hotel overlooking Santa Monica Beach along its renowned boardwalk. The brilliant blue sky and azure ocean make a wonderful backdrop for the photo op. The protestors who hate Governor Davis must realize this, too, because they stand below the balcony, chanting slogans that mock her policies against the things that affect their lives (a livable minimum wage), liberties (pro-choice), and pursuits of happiness (gay marriage).
    We’ve been with her since early this morning. The first stop was a breakfast with a group of ministers from various conservative congregations, all of whom revel in the knowledge that they have a candidate who will advance their agenda. The same can be said for her lunch with California’s largest gun rights advocate group, and tonight’s dinner with the petrochem lobby.
    This is one lady who enjoys preaching to the choir. But what waits for her outside the comfy confines of her hotel is anything but that.
    The few steps that took her from one hotel lobby to her motorcade to her next stop at her hotel were a daunting gauntlet. Arnie walked ahead, while Jack and Dominic flanked her on either side, Abu was close on her tail, and her prim and mousy press secretary, Susannah Jenner, was, as