Free Finding Miracles by Julia Álvarez

but Em wouldn’t be convinced. “I deserve it, I know. I have the biggest mouth. But I’m really, really, really sorry!” Em squeezed her eyes shut as if to stop the tears that spurted out of the corner of her eyes.
    “Em, listen, it’s okay, really.” This time it was my heart talking. “Truly, you are MY ONE AND ONLY best friend!” I raised my voice several decibels. Maybe if I made a scene, she would believe me.
    Em blinked, as if surprised at my outburst. “Really? You mean it?”
    I brought my face right up to hers, till our foreheads touched. “I mean it, girlfriend,” I said emphatically, looking into her eyes.
    “You sure you still love me?” Em was like a little kid sometimes. It was something else I both loved and sometimes found exasperating about my best friend.
    “I never stopped,” I assured her. Not that I wasn’t also hurt. But that was the thing about loving somebody, you hung in there with them during the hard parts. That’s what the love was for, the rest was easy.
    “If I could only get mouth-reduction surgery like they do for big boobs.” Em sighed as we pulled apart. I loved it when Em’s sense of humor kicked in.
    “So how about coming over this Saturday? My parents are going to be gone.”
    Em nodded. “Maybe after we talk, we can go over to Jake’s—you want to?”
    But I had been hatching another plan. “Actually, Em, I need your help with something.”
    Curiosity lit up my friend’s eyes. “What?”
    “I want to open The Box and I want you there, okay?”
    Em’s mouth dropped—she looked totally shocked. “The Box? Really? But I mean, are you . . . do you really think you’re ready, Mil?”
    I nodded, like I knew. But to be honest, I was in shock, too.
    The box had been around for years before it became The Box.
    It was made of this beautiful, dark wood—mahogany, Dad had said. A latch pulled down over an iron ring. One time, when we were little, curious Kate pointed to the dresser and asked Mom what was in the box. I remember Mom saying something like she kept some private papers and documents in there. That did the job. The contents sounded boring. Nothing for us to try to get into when she wasn’t looking.
    One summer afternoon between third and fourth grade, when we were still living on Long Island, my parents came out to the driveway. I’d been riding my new bike up and down the street—the allowable block that was visible from our house. I don’t remember Kate being around, and Nate was napping. Now that I look back, my parents probably waited until the three of us could be alone together.
    “Mil, honey.” It was Dad. “We’d like to talk to you, Mom and I, okay?”
    From their faces, I could tell I was in for something important. Several things went through my mind. I had done something wrong. But what? I always tried to be good to make up for all the trouble I was having at school.
    I followed them into the house, feeling like I was going to faint. I think I actually held my breath all the way to the kitchen. Everything seemed normal, in its place. But then my eye fell on the box sitting beside the lazy Susan on the table. It was a harmless enough thing, but it was so unusual to see it there that it could have been a gun or a bloody knife the way my knees began shaking.
    I sat down at my usual place, Mom and Dad on the other side facing me. They each took one of my hands, smiling this emergency-room smile like bad news was coming. I must have looked ready to cry because Mom said, “Honey, it’s nothing to worry about. Remember how Dad and I have talked to you about getting you in an orphanage?”
    I nodded warily. They had told me that I was adopted, but I didn’t really know what that meant. I had asked if Kate and Nate were also adopted, and Mom had explained that, no, children came to families in different ways. My brother and sister had come from her belly—which sounded much more disturbing.
    “Anyhow,” Mom went on. “We just want to go