Page 134 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

No wonder.

These kids are addicted to their devices.

I’m so tempted to teach her how to get back at him. A few misplaced car keys here, a little toothpaste switched with lotion there. Just enough to even the score. But instead, I literally bite my tongue.

“Look, sometimes you have to know when to stay quiet,” I say. “Actions have consequences. So do words. You spoke your mind, and now you’re paying the price. That’s life.”

Aniya pouts. “But they told me to always tell the truth. Am I supposed to lie sometimes?”

“I didn’t say all that. Just be smart about how you talk to people. Tell them what they wanna hear if it gets you what you want.”

She stares at me, and I can practically see the wheels turning. “Just like you did.”

I wink at her, then smile. “Neither one of us got in trouble, right?”

Her eyes spark with understanding, and I know I’ve imparted wisdom here today.

“Aniya, let me ask you something.”

I don’t know where it came from. Actually, I do. It came from the little girl in me who never got asked the question.

“A few weeks ago, when I told you that it’s okay to not deal with people, you asked if that includes grownups.”

She rolls her eyes in that special, annoying, Aniya way. “So?”

“So…is there a grownup you don’t want to deal with? One that’s bothering you, or making you do something you don’t wanna do?”

“Yes. My parents. Every day.”

I smile. “So you just meant like chores and stuff.”

She nods.

“Mmkay. Just checking.” I watch her start to color like a normal person. “And if there ever is a grownup, or anybody, who’s bothering you in any way, you can let me know. Okay?”

“Yes.”

I’m walking away when I hear her little whisper.

“I still know you said it.”

The early evening air is cool as I coast down the empty lot on my skateboard, black hoodie pulled up, oversized sunglasses shielding my face.

The blond wig itches, but it’ll get the job done.

Kamryn’s Range Rover is parked right where I expected it to be—outside of Rico’s apartment, tucked away from the main road. There’s not a lot of foot traffic out here, but there are plenty of cameras.

That’s what the wig is for.

I slow to a stop, hop off the board, and pull a large water bottle from my bag.

This isn’t about hurting her. Not physically, anyway. If I wanted to do that, I would have finished that job a long time ago.

This is more of a setback for her. A little obstacle to keep her too preoccupied to mind my business.

I envision police reports, insurance calls, trips to the dealership,stress. It’s what she deserves. I really should have done it a long time ago.

I unscrew the cap and tip the bottle, watching the foul-smelling liquid spill across the hood and down the doors, soaking into the tires.

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