A fifteen-year-old is supposed to be certain, loudly and wrongly, that they know their own body best.

Irene’s quiet, folded, resigned compliance was the sound of a child who had been taught not to expect to be believed, and it sat in the car with them the whole way to the hospital like a third passenger.

Chapter 4 — The Technician Went Quiet

In the examination room the ultrasound technician was warm and easy, the way good technicians are, keeping up a light stream of small talk as she worked — where Irene went to school, what she liked, whether she had plans for the weekend.

It was the practiced, kindly patter meant to keep a nervous teenager loose, and it worked, a little, and Martha was grateful for it.