seven Leni Age Sixteen“I don’t want to go,” I stand tall as I address Mimi, who’s perched on the end of my bed, a Better Homes and Gardens magazine spread across her lap.
“I think it will be good for you. You can’t just hang out with an old lady all the time.” She flips the page with a snap.
“I like hanging out with you, and you’re not old. You’re actually pretty young for a grandma.” I cautiously eye her, hoping the compliment—which is a hundred percent true—helps my case.
“You’re going,” she continues smoothly. “You need friends your own age.”
I peer into the mirror above my dresser and pick at the purple hair atop my head, separating the random spiky chunks out more evenly. I clear my throat. “You know there might be alcohol there.”
Her eyes stay trained on the article before her.
