Page 83 of Babies at Coconuts

Hope couldn’t wait a second longer. She ran over to where Britney had painted and gasped. “Brit, this is stunning.” Rubbing her arms, she said, “I’ve got goosebumps. Look at the gorgeous blue and green colors. Look at the intricate details. Look at you.”

A beaming Britney stood back to take in her creation. Splattered paint covered her jeans. As her eyes lit up, a wide grin spread across her face. “I guess it’s pretty good.”

“Pretty good? Sign it, Brit. Put your whole name. People will be photographing this and sharing it on Facebook and Instagram just like they did your tornado jewelry last spring. You’re a gifted, multi-talented artist, young lady.”

“Who knew? Thank you, Miss Truman. You always make me feel special.” Face flushed, Britney picked up a skinny brush, dipped it in black paint, and carefully signed her name.

After each student signed their masterpieces, Willow, Larry-Mac, and Hope filled plastic flutes with champagne for themselves and gave the students white grape juice.

Standing in the Hilltop High School parking lot near Buttercup, Willow held her flute in the air. Everyone followed suit. “Students, your work is nothing short of stupendous. You have gone above and beyond for your senior art project. I couldn’t be more proud of each and every one of you. I could go on all day, but I’ve decided we’ll have a celebratory renaming ceremony.” Raising her glass higher like a torch, her many bangle braces clanked as they slid toward her elbow. “I hereby rename you Buttercup, and dub you Picasso.”

“Here, here,” the janitor and Hope said.

“Picasso,” one student repeated.

“Dope,” said another student.

Britney beamed and said, “Lit.”

Everyone cheered and clapped. After the commotion died down, Willow said, “Before you clean up and leave, I want to take group photos for our school Facebook page and for the Hilltop High Times.” Motioning with her hand, she said, “Stand beside Picasso but don’t block your artwork.”

As the kids scattered and decided who would stand in front—usually the shortest students—Hope noticed Britney hung back. She pointed toward the younger student to alert Willow.

Willow flung a long, gray braid over her shoulder. “Britney, get in the picture. You’re part of this endeavor too.”

Running over, Britney shyly stood in the back but was so short you couldn’t see her.

“Move to the front, Brit,” Hope said.

Willow took several photos of the students and Picasso. When she finished, she waved her arms. “By the way, you’re all getting an A.” There were more cheers as students closed paint cans, washed brushes, and threw away more trash.

Hope nudged Britney. “You need to take photos of your peacock and any other artwork you create for your college applications.”

Britney stared at her work. “I’m as shocked as anyone that mine’s any good.” With renewed confidence, she cleaned a few more brushes and actually made small talk with some of the senior girls.

After removing the last of the stray pizza plates and soda cups, Hope stuffed the trash bags in her trunk, stepped across the lot where Willow was embroiled in conversation, and gave the art teacher a big hug. “This was an inspiring project and a delightful Saturday. Thanks for letting me join you.”

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