Olivia Wallace sold 50 boxes of Girl Scout cookies this year. Mostly Tagalongs and Samoas, some to neighbors, some to family. Her favorite variety is Samoas, and if it were up to her, she would’ve sold many, many more boxes of them to her mom, Kara.

This is Olivia’s first year as a Brownie. She joined because all of her friends are Scouts and she thought it would be fun. She also thought she would have a chance to eat more cookies. Olivia eats Girl Scout cookies on her way to gymnastics meets. She just started doing gymnastics because her Girl Scout troop leader’s daughter does gymnastics, too. Judging by the number of ribbons looped around her cheerleader teddy bear’s neck, Olivia is really, really good at gymnastics, but she says she’s a little afraid of the bars. On Saturday, she had a snack of Samoas and then landed a spot in a May competition in Rhode Island. She’s not sure whether or not the cookies had anything to do with it.

Olivia is 8 years old. She’s in the third grade at Abraham Lincoln School in Bangor and she has a great sense of style. On Sunday, as she prepared to deliver 31 boxes of cookies to her neighbors, she wore her flaming red hair in pigtails tied with leopard-print ribbons. A crocheted skullcap in yellow, orange and red stripes kept her head warm, and a long, brocade-lined denim jacket blocked the wind.

Over it all, Olivia proudly sported her Brownie vest. In addition to all of Olivia’s official pins and patches and the badge she earned for art, her mom has sewed a patch on the back that looks like a cross between a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and a Powerpuff Girl.

Olivia isn’t quite sure what it is. In fact, patches were the last thing on her mind as she and her dad, Wright, toted cookies through Little City. Kara had packed them in white bags tied with ribbons, and Olivia wanted to tow them in her sister’s red wagon, but it was filled with water.

So they set off, arms full of cookies, and stopped across the street at Olivia’s friend Jadon Cormier’s house. When he came to the door, he smiled, grabbed his bag of All Abouts and Thin Mints, said, “Thank you, Olivia,” and went upstairs to eat them.

“You’re welcome, Jadon,” Olivia called. “See you tomorrow.”

She and her dad rounded the corner toward the next stop, and Olivia hesitated before ringing the doorbell. As excited as she was about selling Girl Scout Cookies, the idea of approaching people she doesn’t know makes Olivia feel bashful so she tried to get her dad to do the talking.

“I’m not giving it to them, you’re giving it to them,” Wright said as he nudged his daughter up the stairs.

Carol Farthing answered the door and broke into a smile as she saw the Samoas she ordered.

“I have to decide whether or not I’m going to tell my family I bought them or put them in a special place for myself,” she said as Olivia turned and started down the stairs. “Bye, and don’t forget me next year.”

She said she wouldn’t and went on her way, stopping at a big, white house and then a gray one, where the owner’s brother-in-law was house-sitting. He was happy to collect the cookies before the owner returned. “I’ll start eating them,” he said with a laugh.

Olivia had only one bag left. This was good because her feet (in Ugg-style suede boots) were starting to hurt. And it was pretty brisk. The last package was reserved for her pal Jimmy Burby, 9, who is also in Miss G’s class at Abe Lincoln. She and her dad knew they were in the right place when Olivia spotted a handpainted slate that read “Welcome Burby.”

“Is anybody home?” Wright asked as Olivia gave the door a small knock.

“You should knock, Dad,” she said. “Why don’t you knock?”

He did, and a few seconds later, Vicky Burby came to the door.

“Is she going to come in?” Vicky asked, laughing. “I doubt it.”

Olivia is shy and sweet and she was a little bit nervous when she and her dad went door-to-door with the order form a few months ago. Her mom had given her the “don’t talk to strangers” talk and Olivia had taken it to heart. She was even reluctant to see Jimmy that day. But on Sunday, she went inside and warmed her hands by the wood-pellet stove.

“Are these for me?” Jimmy’s dad, Tom, asked.

“No, they’re for the kids,” Vicky replied. “They’re not the low-carb ones.”

“How many carbs do these have?” Jimmy asked, and everyone laughed.

As the grown-ups talked, Vicky estimated that the cookies would last two or three days, but if she hid them in the freezer they’d make it a week, tops. In the kitchen, Jimmy ate cookies and modeled the Viking helmet Tom bought him in Caribou, which made Olivia smile. Especially when Jimmy flipped the horns upside-down.

“She’s so cute,” Tom said, “she looks just like Charlie Brown’s little red-headed girl.”

Only more stylish.

Soon, it was time to go, and Olivia turned to her dad and asked him if he’d carry her home on his shoulders. He said no, but Olivia said she had fun anyway.

“Thanks for the cookies, Olivia,” Jimmy said as she left.

“You’re welcome, Jimmy,” she replied. “See you tomorrow.”

Her dad walked beside her as an empty-handed Olivia skipped and leapt down the sidewalk. She rounded the corner to her house and broke into a run, red pigtails flapping in the breeze behind her. Then she was gone. To practice gymnastics. And probably to eat a few Samoas.