Harsh Pink with Bonus Content Read Free

down the effects of aging,” her years seem to be catching up with her. And, although she refuses to acknowledge it, I know for a fact that she turns sixty next month. One reason I can so easily track her age is because I know she was close to the cutoff age for international adoption in China. Single women can’t be over forty-five to adopt an infant. She was forty-four then and I am sixteen now, so I simply add the two numbers and, presto, I know her age.
    Back when my mom decided to adopt a baby, China was the only country to even consider a single woman as a potential adoptive parent. Of course, this was only because the country was so desperate. Thanks to their rigid laws controlling family size, thousands of Chinese baby girls were dying in impoverished orphanages — a fact I try not to think about. Anyway, China must’ve figured that even an older, single mom was better than a death sentence.
    Mom sighs in a tired way as she pushes a strand of blonde-tinted hair away from her forehead. “We were talking about Nana, Reagan.”
    “Oh, yeah.” I take a long sip that finishes off my smoothie and then meticulously rinse the glass and place it in the dishwasher (only because Mom is watching me). Impressive.
    “I want to take Nana to tour this place today, Reagan. And I want you to come along with us.”
    “Oh, Mom.” I let out a dramatic groan. “Why do I have to go?”
    “Because it will reassure Nana.”
    “But I’m not the one who wants to put her away, Mom.”
    “We’re not putting her away, Reagan. This is assisted living.”
    “What does that mean, anyway?”
    “It means they know how to take care of old people. They’re set up for it and they know what they need.”
    “Maybe she just needs us.”
    “She’s home alone most of the time.” Mom closes the dishwasher with a bang. “And it’s not helping matters that she’s incontinent.”
    I roll my eyes. “It’s not a big deal, Mom. Isn’t that why she wears those granny diapers?”
    “Maybe I should make you go to the store and buy them for her, Reagan.” Mom narrows her eyes in a threatening way. “Do you know how ridiculous I feel going to Wal-Mart for Depends?”
    “Why don’t you buy them online?”
    She just shakes her head. “It’s too much for me to handle right now, Reagan. My new job at the bank is overwhelming. Everyone there seems to resent the fact that I replaced the last manager, Mr. Nice Guy, although he made a perfect mess of everything — a mess I’m having to clean up. And I’m not getting any younger. I just think it’s time to consider the alternatives for Nana.” She stands up straight and puts on her business face, including a fakelooking smile. “Besides, this place sounds very nice.”
    “I don’t know …”
    “Exactly.” She points her finger at me. “That’s why you need to come along too. So you can find out. And then you can help Nana see why it’s a good idea.”
    And so I agree to go with them. Isn’t this how every sixteen-year-old wants to spend her Saturday? Although it’s not like I have a life anyway. I mean, despite making the cheerleading squad yesterday, it’s not like I’ve made any real friends yet. Maybe after next week, I tell myself as I get dressed to tour the old-folks’ home, maybe after we start to practice and stuff, then I’ll get to know the other cheerleaders and things will start to look up. I know I need to make a plan. I need to pick out someone I think would be easy to befriend. I’ll look for a cheerleader who, like me, is a little on the outside. I’ll be extra nice and encouraging and it will be a start. And if I don’t really like her — if she turns out to be a class-B friend or less — then she might just be a stepping-stone to the next friend. A class-A friend.
    Naturally, thinking about this makes me miss my old best friend, Geneva. I’ve tried to call her a couple of times this week, but all I get is her voice mail. I decide to try her again. But,