At 8:42 that morning, I was supposed to be sitting in the back row of Room 214, pretending to care about the causes of the Civil War while secretly counting the minutes until lunch.
Instead, I was lying on the couch in our apartment with a blanket pulled to my chin, listening to my mother move around the kitchen.
The smell of chicken soup drifted through the living room even though I had insisted I wasn’t hungry.
“You’re really going to miss your history test?” Mom asked.
I opened one eye.
“My stomach hurts.”
She stopped beside the couch and looked down at me.
She had already changed for work, wearing the navy blouse she used for her shifts at the department store and pulling her hair into the neat bun she always wore when she was in a hurry.
“You said that yesterday.”
“It hurts more today.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It isn’t.”
She folded her arms.
I tried not to smile.
Mom knew me too well.
My history test had been announced two weeks earlier, and I had spent most of those two weeks doing everything except studying for it.
Still, there was something different about that morning.
I couldn’t explain it.
I simply didn’t want to leave.
Mom eventually sighed and sat beside me.
“You’re going to owe me one very serious study session.”
“I know.”
“And if your teacher emails me?”
“I’ll tell her I was sick.”
“You’d better actually be sick.”
I nodded solemnly.
She touched the back of her hand to my forehead.
“Normal temperature.”
“Maybe stomachs don’t make your forehead hot.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then she kissed my hair.
“Stay inside. Don’t open the door for anyone unless you know who it is.”
I sat up slightly.
“Why?”
“Because I have a feeling your aunt Valerie might stop by.”
My stomach tightened.
That wasn’t the first time Mom had said Valerie’s name with that particular tone.
They were sisters, but lately they had stopped acting like family.
Whenever Valerie called, Mom usually let the phone ring.
Whenever Valerie visited, Mom suddenly found something she needed to do in another room.
I had asked about it once.
Mom had only said, “Adults can disagree about money and still love each other.”
I hadn’t believed her.
Before leaving, Mom placed a bowl of soup on the coffee table.
“Eat something.”
“I will.”
“And Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“If Valerie comes, don’t let her inside.”
That caught my attention.
Mom rarely gave me instructions like that.
“Is she mad at you?”
“She’ll tell you she’s not.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
Mom gave me a tired smile.
“Just promise me.”
“I promise.”
She kissed my forehead once more and walked toward the door.
I watched her put on her coat.
For a moment, she stood with her hand on the doorknob.
Then she turned.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The door shut.
I waited until I heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway.
Then I picked up my phone.
I had lasted approximately thirty seconds before deciding that if I was going to fake being sick, I deserved at least one episode of the show Mom normally wouldn’t let me watch before homework.
By 10:30, I had forgotten about the history test.
By 10:45, I had almost forgotten about Aunt Valerie.
Then I heard three knocks.
Not the quick, impatient knocking Mom used.
Three slow taps.
I muted the television.
Another three knocks followed.
I stayed on the couch.
“Chloe?”
It was Valerie.
My body went stiff.
I didn’t answer.
“Chloe, I know you’re home.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Mom had told me not to let her in.
So I stayed silent.
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
Then I heard the faint metallic sound of a key sliding into the lock.
My heart jumped.
Valerie had a spare key.
I sat up.
The door opened.
She stepped inside wearing a gray hoodie, dark sunglasses, and gloves.
Even though the hallway was warm.
I stared at her from behind the corner of the wall.
She closed the door carefully.
Then she looked around.
Not like someone visiting family.
Like someone checking whether she had been seen.
“Chloe?” she called.
I held my breath.
She waited.
Then she walked toward the kitchen.
I lowered myself behind the wall until only one eye was visible.
Valerie moved quietly.
Too quietly.
She opened a drawer.
Closed it.
Then she looked toward the hallway where Mom’s bedroom was.
I wanted to run.
Instead, I stayed still.
Valerie disappeared into Mom’s room.
I heard a drawer slide open.
Then another.
My heart began beating so hard that I was afraid she would hear it.
What was she looking for?
A few minutes later, she returned carrying nothing.
She stood near the kitchen counter and checked her phone.
The screen lit her face.
She typed something.
Then she whispered into the phone.
“I told you I could do it.”
There was a pause.
Her expression hardened.
“I know.”
Another pause.
“No. She won’t suspect me.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
She was talking about Mom.
Valerie glanced toward the hallway.
I ducked completely out of sight.
When I looked again, she had taken something from her purse.
It was wrapped in a piece of silver tissue paper.
She held it for several seconds.
Then she opened it.
Something bright caught the light.
A bracelet.
I didn’t know what it was then.
But I remembered seeing something similar on the local news the night before.
A diamond bracelet had been stolen from a private jewelry exhibition downtown.
The reporter had shown a photograph.
I had barely paid attention.
Now the image came back to me.
Diamonds.
A distinctive arrangement of stones.
A narrow platinum band.
The bracelet in Valerie’s hand looked exactly like it.
My mouth went dry.
Valerie slipped the bracelet into another small bag.
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t a happy smile.
It was the expression of someone who thought everything had gone according to plan.
She picked up her phone again.
“By tonight,” she whispered, “Rachel Bennett won’t look like such a saint anymore.”
I didn’t understand what she meant.
Not completely.
But I understood enough to be afraid.
Valerie walked toward the front door.
Before leaving, she looked once more toward the hallway.
Then she stepped out.
The lock clicked behind her.
I stayed frozen for almost a full minute.
When I finally moved, my legs felt weak.
I ran into Mom’s bedroom.
The drawers were open.
Nothing looked obviously missing.
Then I noticed something else.
Mom’s work bag was sitting on the chair.
Valerie had not taken it.
She had done something to it.
I could feel it.
I didn’t touch the bag.
Instead, I grabbed my phone and called Mom.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Mom?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Aunt Valerie came.”
There was silence.
Then Mom’s voice changed.
“What did she want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you let her in?”
“No.”
Another silence.
“Chloe, are you sure?”
“She had a key.”
Mom breathed out slowly.
“Listen to me. Stay inside. Lock the door.”
“Mom, why?”
“I’ll explain when I get home.”
“You sound scared.”
“I am not scared.”
She was lying.
I knew her voice.
Before I could ask anything else, someone spoke in the background.
Mom lowered her voice.
“I have to go.”
“Mom—”
“I love you.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Then I heard sirens.
They were still far away.
But they were coming closer.
I moved toward the window.
A police cruiser turned onto our street.
Then another.
My hands went cold.
I had no idea why they were coming.
But somewhere inside me, I already knew this had something to do with Valerie.
And when I looked down at Mom’s work bag again, I realized I was more afraid of what might be inside it than of the police outside.
Click here to continue reading: PART 2: The Police Arrived Looking for One Thing, and My Mother Walked Into a Trap She Never Saw Coming
I Was Supposed to Be Sitting in History Class, But One Small Decision Kept Me Home When My Aunt Arrived Unexpectedly
Part 1 of 15
