Free Harsh Pink with Bonus Content by Melody Carlson Page B

I’m sure she’s not willing to relinquish it now. Especially to a newcomer like me.
    Watch your step, I think as I walk toward my front door. Not literally, of course. It’s not like I’m going to trip and fall on my face right now. I’m thinking of Sally. Not only is this test not finished, but it could become even tougher now. And I find this very irksome. I mean, just when I think I don’t have to be on my lookout for Kendra anymore, I realize Sally could be an even worse threat. When will I get a break?



seven
     
    O N S UNDAY MORNING MY MOM ANNOUNCES THAT SHE’S TAKING THE DAY OFF .
    “That’s cool,” I tell her. I want to add, What else is new? since she often takes the day off on Sunday — usually to go shopping, her favorite form of stress relief. But I don’t say this. She seems to be grumpy enough already. Why push things? Besides, I got to go shopping yesterday. Even if it wasn’t exactly stress free.
    “So you’ll stick around the house then?” she asks as she picks up her new Marc Jacobs bag — the one I’ve been eyeing lately and wish I could borrow sometime because I’m pretty sure it would impress Kendra. One nice thing about my mom is that she really does have good taste, especially for an older woman, and she doesn’t mind spending money on designers either. “You’ll keep an eye on Nana?”
    “Sure. Have a good time.” I point to her purse. “I so love that bag, Mom.”
    She shakes a finger at me. “You already got my Burberry bag, Reagan. Don’t sneak off with this one next.”
    I laugh. “It was just a compliment, Mom. Have fun, okay?”
    She smiles. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll get you something while I’m out.”
    I consider putting in a specific request but think better of it. My mom does not like to be told what to do. Better to just play it safe. “Cool,” I say
    I’m actually relieved to spend the day at home without Mom in the house. I’m ready for some R&R. Oh, it’s not that I don’t love my mom. I totally do. But she can be pretty demanding. And the truth is, it’s hard to really relax when she’s home. It’s like she wants me to stay busy or something. I realize this is because Mom has a type A personality, which she is quick to point out to anyone interested. In fact, everyone who knows my mom is fully aware of this. I’ve even overheard coworkers talking behind her back. Naturally, I’d never repeat anything like that to Mom. There would be no point.
    “Is Diane gone?” asks Nana as she emerges from her room wearing her favorite pink sweats and an old cowboy hat that used to belong to my grandpa.
    “Yeah, for the day,” I tell her as a form of reassurance. Even though Nana’s memory is fading quickly, she seems to know to lay low when her daughter’s in a foul mood.
    “Do you want to watch …” She pauses to think. “That TV …” She frowns now, then points to me. “That thing …”
    “You mean the country music channel on TV?” I ask, knowing full well that’s what she means.
    She thinks for a moment. “Yes, that’s it.”
    “Sure,” I tell her, heading to the family room to turn on the TV. I go to the CMT station, then crank the sound up the way Nana likes it. This is one of Nana’s favorite pastimes, and I usually put it on before I go to school in the morning. But whenever Mom is home, we leave it off because Mom can’t stand country music. Worse than that, she makes fun of it and anyone who enjoys it. She even teases Nana for liking it. Nana used to say that the only reason she listens to it is because it reminds her of Grandpa. He used to play the steel guitar. I don’t exactly remember that about him since I was barely walking when Grandpa died, but I’ve seen photos of him with his guitar and I imagine that I heard him play.
    After Grandpa died, Nana came to live with us. Or maybe we went to live with her. I’m not even sure now which way it was. But I do know that without Nana’s help, my mom wouldn’t be nearly as