Free The Question of Miracles by Elana K. Arnold

that’s not how I cheated. But I did do something kind of crazy.” She smiled. “Do you know what I did?”
    Iris shook her head.
    Mrs. Kassab met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I visited a psychic.” She sounded half embarrassed, half pleased. “She said the baby will be a boy.” Then she held a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone! My entire family would think I am nuts.”
    They had reached the homestead. Mrs. Kassab pushed the door lever, and Iris stood up. She didn’t get off the bus, though, not right away. First, she asked, “Where did you find a psychic?”
    â€œIt wasn’t hard,” said Mrs. Kassab. “There is only one in town.”
    Â 
    After dinner, while her parents played chess near the fire, Iris logged on to the computer to find the town’s only psychic—Madame Occhiale. In her neatest writing, Iris printed the psychic’s name, phone number, and address on the top sheet of the little yellow pad that her mother kept next to the computer. Then she carefully pulled the paper free from the rest of the pad, folded it in half, and slipped it into the pocket of her robe, all before her father called, “Pigeon! Your mother has beaten me again. Come tell her to take it easier on me.”
    As casually as she could, Iris went back to her parents, back to the warmth of the fire, her fingers curled around the folded-up paper in her pocket.

10
    â€œHow long has it been since Sarah’s death?”
    Iris sat in between her parents on the orange couch in Dr. Shannon’s office. It was a modern couch—low-backed, leather, with round metal legs. Dr. Shannon sat across from them in a blue velvet chair. Her suit was blue too—dark blue, with a knee-length skirt and a white button-down shirt underneath the jacket. Her hair was smoothed back into a low, neat bun.
    She was too young to be any good at being a psychologist, Iris decided.
    Behind Dr. Shannon was the room’s one window. The sky, gray and clouded, rained and rained.
    â€œIt’s been six months now,” said Iris’s father.
    Dr. Shannon nodded and wrote in a little book.
    â€œAnd you moved here . . .”
    â€œJust over three months ago,” said her mother. “I was hired by the infectious disease department at the university. Research.”
    This interested Dr. Shannon. Iris let herself tune out as her mom explained more about her job. Iris knew her mom did important work. She didn’t need to hear it all again.
    Actually, she hoped they’d keep talking about her mom’s job for the whole hour. But instead, after just a few minutes, Dr. Shannon stood up. “You’re welcome to wait in the lobby,” she said as Iris’s parents stood too. “Or there’s a very good coffee shop down on the corner.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œWe’re going to let you chat with Dr. Shannon for a while,” her dad said. “We’ll be back.”
    Iris considered putting up a fight. But she knew from her past experience with the psychiatrist in Seal Beach that it was a losing battle. So instead she just said, “Bring me a hot chocolate, okay?”
    After Dr. Shannon had shut the door behind Iris’s parents, she came back to the sitting area. But instead of returning to the blue chair, she sat on the other end of the couch, tucking one leg underneath herself and turning toward Iris.
    Iris looked at her. Dr. Shannon smiled a little. “I’m so sorry about your friend,” she said. “You must be terribly sad.”
    Iris opened her mouth to say something—she didn’t know what—but instead of words, out flew a choked sob, and then her mouth crumpled, and she began to cry.
    Dr. Shannon scooted closer and put a hand on Iris’s back. She didn’t rub or pat or try to stop Iris from crying, she just left her hand there. Iris cried