Transcendent by Katelyn Detweiler Read Free Book Online Page B

had lost a child? A
baby
? My heart was pounding in my chest. Nothing either of them was saying made any sense.
    â€œNo, Mina. You didn’t.”
    â€œI did!” My mom successfully ripped her hand away this time, disappearing from my view as she pushed herself up against the door. Her voice was too insistent, though. Too forceful.
    â€œThat was
her
, wasn’t it?” Kyle asked, his face lighting up as he jumped to his feet. “She’s the one who answered when I first buzzed?”
    â€œKyle, no, it’s all a mistake. We—I can’t help you. You need to leave.” My mom sounded terrified by his question, which only seemed to excite him more.
    â€œIt was! I can feel it.” He squinted up to the second story and I jumped back, gasping. Had he seen me?
    â€œI swear, Mina, all I want is for her to meet Ella. And for your forgiveness. No matter what happens after that, I’ll leave you both alone for good. I promise.”
    â€œI’m not listening to any of this,” my mom screeched, opening and closing the door before Kyle could stop her. I leaned forward again to see him standing there frozen, staring at the empty stoop in front of him with a dazed look on his face. Just as I was about to run out of the bedroom, he glanced back up at me. My entire spine erupted in a frenzy of cool, tingling goose bumps as our eyes met. I shuddered, folding my arms across my chest to warm myself.
    He smiled—and that smile, it looked so hopeful. So
desperate
.
    Achingly, frighteningly desperate.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    I didn’t say a word to my mother when she came back inside. Partly because I didn’t know where to start, and partly because she waved Caleb and me off and shut the door to her writing room before we could ask a single question.
    Caleb was—reasonably so—upset with me for locking him out of the bedroom, but his curiosity was stronger. He followed me in circles as I paced around the kitchen, clinging to my waist as he tried to get the story out of me.
    â€œTell me what you saw, Iris,” he said for the fifth time. “Please? Why won’t either of you talk about it?”
    â€œIt was nothing, Caleb. Just an old friend who was in the neighborhood. I could barely hear the conversation, anyway,” I lied. He gave me a pouty look that made it clear he didn’t believe me and sat back down to do more homework. After a few minutes he seemed completely absorbed by his spelling list again, as if the whole bizarre encounter had never happened. Life was so much easier when you were ten.
    I couldn’t think about homework. I couldn’t think about anything but the conversation I’d just overheard. I replayed every detail, every word, but I couldn’t make the fragments fit. Only my mom could give me any answers. I sat at the kitchen table staring off toward the staircase, trying to will myself to walk up the steps and confront her.
Stand up, Iris
. Move your right leg, your left leg, repeat fifty times, twist the knob. Easy enough. But then what? How would I start?
    Mom, why did that man call you Mina? Why did he say that you lied about losing a baby? And why did he think that you—that
we
—would be able to help his daughter? How could anyone besides doctors help his daughter now?
    Before I could make myself follow through on the necessary motions, though, the front door flew open. My dad exploded into the living room, tossing his bag andcoat on the sofa. Just as he started to turn back toward the staircase, my mom’s office, he seemed to remember us, looking over his shoulder to the kitchen for the first time. His eyes fixed directly on mine, and my heart skipped. He looked scared and anxious and guilty. He looked exactly like my mom had just an hour earlier. Whatever she knew, he knew, too. Whatever she was hiding . . . they were hiding it together. And they were hiding it from
me
.
    He