It was at this point that I realized that, while Ron used the word "fuck" quite a lot, she never used it when she was talking about the sex act itself. When she did allude to sex, it was always with some term like "fooling around."

"Your father," Jan said, "is a bit torn. On one hand, he wants you to know that 'fooling around' is not always bad, and that sometimes good things come from it. Which is true. However, he also wants you to be aware that, for you, twelve is definitely too young. Which I also agree with, by the way."

Ron now looked even more disgruntled. "You're changing the subject," she said. "I'm not fooling around with anybody."

I nodded. "You're right. But we don't know much about where you sleep, or who shares the room with you. Maybe–"

"There are four of us. There used to be six, but bozo got pregnant, and then whats-her-name went home. She was useless anyway."

"And now this girl has gone off with a boy?"

"She wanted to have him move in!" she said, sounding appalled. "I said, 'No way!' No boys in the room. You know what would happen."

"Your father was a boy himself, once upon a time, so he has a pretty good idea. Perhaps even better than you do."

That got another brief smile out of Ron. "You want to see the room?"

"We'd like that," I said, trying to be casual about this major step in our relationship with our adopted daughter.

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