Her First Mistake by Carey Baldwin (books for 10th graders txt) 📕

draped over the shade, was, in truth, safer than any of the places she imagined Celeste might be.

If Celeste was still alive.

Mia drew in a long, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Isaiah said.

“You should be sorry.”

“I am.” He sounded remorseful, and for Celeste’s sake, Mia wanted to believe him. Still, only yesterday, he’d seemed almost cavalier about his sister’s disappearance. Her pounding pulse warned her to not to trust him, but what if, like he said, he’d really thought he’d found Celeste?

And who was she to judge him when her own impulsive act had done so much damage? Would the Coopers forgive her if the truth about Celeste’s missing keys came to light?

Suddenly needing to flee—from her own crimes as much as from Isaiah—she got to her feet. Besides, she really wanted to get out of this place before the bouncer discovered them.

Right on cue, the curtain whooshed open.

“Fancy, is that you? Are you okay?” Galen appeared, and in one swift motion hoisted Isaiah over his shoulder.

Isaiah froze, arms and legs extended.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Please, put him down.”

Still paralyzed, Isaiah said, “Let me go. Unless you want a lawsuit on your hands.”

“Shut up,” Galen said. “I’m talking to Fancy.”

“This is a simple misunderstanding. I’m not hurt.” Mia pushed on Galen’s biceps, and he dropped Isaiah, who smacked his back against the wall but managed to keep his feet under him.

Then Isaiah’s bloodshot eyes met hers, and she was torn between rebuking him and shielding him from Galen. Right now, in this moment, she felt like she was the stronger person, and it was up to her to make things turn out right—the same way she used to feel when she had to make sure the stove was off and cover up her mother, who was passed out on the couch. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Galen looked her over once and then again. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. But this area is off limits. Maybe you didn’t know better, Fancy—” Galen turned and pointed his finger at Isaiah “—but this is your second offense. You’re officially banned from the club.” He paused. “As for you, sweetheart, you seem more interested in poking around than in procuring employment, so on behalf of Lacy’s management team, I regret to inform you the waitress gig isn’t gonna work out.”

“I understand. No hard feelings.” She stretched out her hand.

Galen scowled. “I’m gonna count slow, and if you two aren’t gone by the time I get to three…”

She rushed past Galen, heading out the back with Isaiah on her heels.

“One one thousand, two one thousand…”

A heavy metal door creaked shut behind them, and she found herself in a deserted alley with a half-drunk man who’d just yanked her into the sordid back room of a strip club. Had he really had a vulnerable look in his eye, or had that been her imagination?

And what was on his cheek? She squinted at the mysterious mark.

That was no dirt smear. It was a scratch, and she couldn’t tell if it was fresh or old.

Cringing, she pressed her back against a brick wall.

Isaiah lifted his brow. “Fancy, huh? Nosing around? Waitress gig?”

“Second offense?” she fired back.

“It’s complicated. Can I buy you a coffee? I’m supposed to be on the wagon, but I seem to have gone under the wheels.”

That vulnerable look appeared again, coming dangerously close to sucking her in against her better judgment. “Sorry, I really have to get going.”

Was Isaiah a sheep in wolf’s clothing, in need of a guiding hand to bring him back to the fold, or a dangerous animal on the prowl?

Eight

Wednesday

Feeling a tug of guilt for ditching her lesson planning yet again, Mia rushed out the door of the academy the moment her last class ended. Normally she was the first one in and the last one out, but what she was doing today was more important. Besides, she had plenty of activities prepared for her pupils to get her through the rest of the week—she could catch up over the weekend if need be.

In the parking lot, she waved a quick goodbye to Jane, who looked like she wanted to stop and chat, and slipped behind the wheel of her Jetta.

She arrived at Horton Plaza, parked, and then headed out on foot to drop off Celeste’s dress at the dry cleaners. Next, she stopped by a copy shop—she was nearly out of the flyers with Celeste’s photo and the tip-line number. She made 500 additional copies and then, beginning at First Street, systematically covered the Gaslamp Quarter, plastering lamp posts and trees, entering shops to inquire whether they’d seen Celeste, and cajoling staff into allowing her to leave stacks of flyers near the cash register.

She’d just completed Fifth Street when her phone chimed.

It was only Aunt Misty. She let it go to voicemail and repositioned the shoulder straps of her heavy tote with a newfound appreciation for the roomy old bag she’d purchased freshman year at San Diego State. The tote’s once brightly colored floral pattern was faded to pastel, but the thick cotton fabric had held up to periodic washings. Big enough to hold a few books and a laptop back in the day, it was roomy enough now for flyers, tape, a hammer and nails, and even a thermos. Really, it was the perfect purse, and she no longer coveted another.

No Michael Kors snakeskin tote for Mia.

She had all she needed right here on her shoulder.

With a sense of purpose, she hurried toward a bench up ahead, fog swirling around her ankles—another balmy San Diego day was turning into a nippy evening.

But Mia had come prepared.

Positioning her bag beside her on the bench, she settled in, her heart beating fast in anticipation.

The tip of her nose was cold, and a cup of hot tea from her thermos would warm her up nicely, but she’d rather hold off. In just a few more minutes, according to its website, the board of Haven Foundation would convene in its Dream Hub building across