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

trying to slow down her heart rate. It seemed an eternity before the dizziness passed, but at last, it did. “I didn’t write the note and put it on my own car. I didn’t plant a tracking device for you to find, either. My aunt might have. It’s not inconceivable. She’s very protective. But it’s hard to believe Aunt Misty would do such a thing, and if she didn’t, and Paul Hudson didn’t…” Her breath was coming way too fast. It had been years since she’d hyperventilated, but she knew the warning signs.

Don’t panic.

Digging in her purse, she found a paper bag from one of the shops she’d visited and breathed into it.

Her lungs relaxed, filling with much needed oxygen.

She waited a beat, for good measure, and then said, “What if this has nothing to do with Celeste? What if it’s about my mother, instead? What if Aunt Misty’s been right this whole time? Maybe all these years, someone has been watching, and that’s who put a GPS on my car?”

Samuels walked over and sat down by her side. His eyes searched hers. “Doesn’t add up. Odds are the person who put the note on your windshield is the same one who put the tracker on your car. This appears to me to be some sort of desperate strategy on your part, but it’s not going to work. I will not reopen your mother’s case based on manufactured evidence. So, calm down, get up, and dust yourself off. If you wrote that note and put a tracking device on your own car, either because you want attention, or because you hope it will get your mother’s case off ice, then go home to your aunt and let her take care of you—get some therapy. But if you didn’t, then my advice is go home and pack your bags. Because if your aunt did this, you need to get away from her as fast as you possibly can.”

Twenty-Nine

It’s hard to pack your bags and get away as fast as you possibly can when you have nowhere to go.

Mia’s new apartment wouldn’t be ready until the first of the month. Aunt Misty was the only family she had, and her friends were more like acquaintances than the kind whose couch you could crash on during a personal crisis. The closest thing she had to a love life were a few guys she’d been texting from that dating app she’d signed up for at Dr. Baquero’s urging a few months ago, but she’d never met any of them in person. A hotel seemed a logical choice for tonight, but would be too pricey to stay in for more than two weeks until her apartment was ready. She snapped the latch on her suitcase closed, dragged it to the edge of her bed, sat down and let the tears flow.

When she heard the front door open, she grabbed a box of tissues from her nightstand, blew her nose, dried her eyes, and gathered her resolve. For twenty years she’d been huddled inside with her aunt, shades drawn to protect her from the outside world. But with everything that had happened, it was clear to Mia that safety couldn’t be found within a set of walls, and that this house was more hideaway than home.

It was time for her to go.

Aunt Misty opened the door to Mia’s room.

“Thanks for knocking.” And yes, you bet that’s sarcasm in my tone.

“I thought I heard crying.” Aunt Misty hurried over, sidled up to Mia on the bed, and reached out to stroke her hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Mia pushed her hand away.

“Talk to me, please. I let you be last night, because you seemed like you needed your space.” Aunt Misty gave her the and-you-know-how-hard-that-was-for-me look.

Mia didn’t care. Her aunt was not going to soften her up and get her to feel sorry for her. Not this time. Mia lobbed a handful of wadded up tissue at the trashcan. “Big of you to keep out of my business for one whole night.”

“Did something happen at work? Or have I done something? This morning, I went to get coffee and croissants from that bakery you like, but when I came home you were gone. You didn’t leave me a note or anything. I called three times, and you never picked up. I’ve been worried sick. Where have you been?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“How would I?”

“You tell me.” Mia scoffed.

Aunt Misty scooted away from her, shaking her head. “I can see you’re hurt about something. You’d never speak to me like this otherwise. You’re too good a girl.”

“I’m not a girl. I’m a grown woman, and I’m tired of you treating me like a child. I got fired yesterday, but that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry…” Aunt Misty stopped speaking mid-sentence. She was staring at Mia’s suitcase. “You’re-you’re going somewhere?”

“Great detective work. I’m leaving.”

“Leaving me?”

“I’m moving out.” She waited, knowing the hysterics were coming, but Aunt Misty just gaped at her, seemingly stunned into temporary silence.

“Did you hear what I just said? Aren’t you going to wail and moan? Beg me to stay? Don’t bother, because I’ve found an apartment, and it’ll be ready on the first of the month. But I’m leaving now. I can’t stay here one more day. Not after what you’ve done.”

Aunt Misty opened her mouth but, still, she didn’t speak. Then, at last, she started to cry; big tears dripped down her cheeks, silent sobs wracked her body, air leaked out of her lungs in short, wheezy breaths.

Despite her earlier resolve, the sight of her aunt’s heartache doused Mia’s anger like a bucket of ash poured over a campfire. She put her arms around her aunt. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I do love you, and I’m grateful you took me in. Thank you—I mean that sincerely.”

Aunt Misty pulled away and wiped her face on her sleeve. “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. When you say I took you in, you