Mary Liz stroked her temples. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I think I’m getting a reading.” She pinched her eyes shut and nodded. “Yes, it’s coming to me…here it comes…got it: Iris, when you were twelve, you wet the bed!”
The classroom snickered.
“Hilarious,” someone said.
“Oh, I’m not done,” Mary Liz said. “Did I mention she wet it because, earlier that day, she saw her mother in bed with a hairy plumber?”
The class laughed.