**Diary Entry**
*No Family Discounts*
Youre deliberately targeting her! Why are you being so harsh, Helen?
Shes the one disrupting my lessons. I grade objectively. Your little Maisie, bless her, acts like shes the queen of the classroom.
Helen stood by the teachers desk in a crisp blazer, her hair neatly tied back, a polite smile on her lips. But beneath that smile was venom.
The wall displayed the best student artwork. Oddly, not a single piece by Maisie was thereeven though shed won awards in local competitions.
Dont give me that! I know Maisie. Art is everything to her. She wouldnt misbehave. And even if she did, youre supposed to grade her work, not her attitude! Youre failing her because
Because shed rather chat than draw, Helen cut in smoothly. Listen, Imogen, just because Gran sticks her doodles on the fridge doesnt mean she deserves automatic As. I dont give family discounts.
Imogen narrowed her eyes, shooting Helen a withering glare. Behind the half-open door, a flash of Maisies maroon coat caught her eye. The girl had been waiting, and shed heard everything.
It all sounded horribly unfairbut now, Imogen was starting to see the root of it.
Both Imogen and Helen were daughters-in-law to Margaret. Their mother-in-law was kind but sometimes too soft. She loved them both, but she favoured Imogenmaybe because Imogen didnt hide poison behind a sweet smile.
At Christmas, Helen got a basic gift set of shampoo and shower gel. Imogen received a book and an elegant metal bookmark. Both presents were modest, but one clearly had more thought behind it.
Sorry, love wasnt sure what to get you, Margaret had mumbled to Helen.
The favouritism wasnt just in gifts. Margaret praised both daughters-in-law, but Imogenand Maisiejust a little more.
Oh, what a masterpiece! Weve got a little artist on our hands. Such talent! Margaret would gush whenever Maisie brought her a new drawing, promptly sticking it on the fridge.
Helen, not to be outdone, started presenting her sons artworkforced-looking birthday cards, a clumsy portrait of Gran. The boy never handed them over himself, nor did he care much for praise.
Oh, another little artist! Margaret would chirp. Though why are my hair green?
Didnt have a yellow pencil, hed shrug.
Margaret doted on both grandchildren, but Maisies work always got the loudest praise. And honestly? It was impressive. Still lifes, landscapes, animal sketchesnot quite gallery-worthy, but far beyond most adults.
Then Helen escalated things. She enrolled her son in the same art school as Maisie. He was, to put it mildly, not thrilled.
I dont want to! Its boring! he whined when Helen announced they had to leave a family gathering for his lesson.
Youre there to learn, not mess about, she replied gentlybut beneath the warmth was iron stubbornness.
Helen started presenting Gran with rough sketches, even outright bad ones, insisting, You can see the improvement! Yet Margarets eyes never lit up the way Helen wanted. Maybe thats why she took it further.
Mum, guess what? Aunt Helens our new art teacher! Maisie announced one day.
Imogen tensed but kept smiling.
For two weeks, all was calm. Then came the Ds, the Cs, the notes in the diary. There were brief respitesbut every time Margaret praised Maisie at a family dinner, another failing grade followed.
Now, Imogen had had enough.
Seriously? This is about Gran? Helen, shes just being kind. She loves this sort of thingyou know that. And you youre taking it out on a child.
Helen just scoffed.
Shell need to work harder if she wants top marks.
Outside the door, Maisie stood twisting her hands. She didnt say a wordjust followed her mum silently.
Dont worry, sweetheart. Mummy will sort it, Imogen murmured.
Shed never been one for conflict, but staying quiet felt like betraying her own child.
She started with her husband. True to form, he stayed neutral. Family matters should stay private, Andrew insisted.
Ill talk to my brother, but maybe youre overreacting?
She wasnt. Maisie was withdrawingno longer running to show her drawings, hiding them under notebooks, dreading art lessons.
Imogen stopped waiting for Andrews help. The next day, she casually asked another mum about their sons art grades.
Oh, brilliant! Mrs. Thompsons an absolute gem. Alfie adores her lessonshe might finally get an A this term!
Everyone said the same: Helen was wonderful, fair, generous with marks. Only Maisie struggled.
At home, Imogen pulled out Maisies art school folder. The top sheet was a still lifeapples, vibrant and confident.
Your daughter has an excellent eye for colour! her teacher had praised.
Comparing it to her schoolwork, the difference wasnt skilljust joy. School pieces were darker, rushed. The only real change was Helens harshness.
The next morning, Imogen marched to the headmasters office.
Shes crushing her talent. My daughters afraid to draw now. She laid out the folder. Art school versus classwork. Same standardyet here, shes failing.
The headmaster called Helen in immediately.
Good afternoon! Is something wrong? she chirpedthen froze at the sight of Imogen.
Mrs. Thompson, the headmaster held up a drawing, do you genuinely believe this deserves a D?
Helen shrugged, eyes downcast.
I just wanted to push her. She can do better. Sometimes children need a nudge.
Not a shred of remorsejust fear.
In future, grade the work, not the potential, the headmaster said firmly.
Sorry to trouble you, Imogen added lightly. Id just hate for this to well, spread beyond school.
The headmaster caught her meaning.
If theres further issue, come to me. But I trust this wont happen again. Understood?
Helen gave a stiff nod.
Two weeks later, Maisie bounded home with an A in art.
See? Youre brilliant. And Mummy will always have your back, Imogen hugged her, smiling.
After that, Helen changed. Quieter, withdrawnno more jabs at family dinners, no boasting about her son.
Imogen didnt transfer Maisie. Running wouldnt solve anything. Helen was still there. This could happen againmaybe to others. But Imogen knew one thing: people like her existed everywhere. The only way forward was to stand firm, to refuse to stay silent.
