Breaking Rules (2 page)

Two

I rolled out of bed at six the next morning. It was the earliest I’d ever pulled myself up on a weekend, but I’d made a commitment, and in spite of my sister’s bad attitude, I planned to see that commitment through to the very end.
Rule #5: Never make a promise you don’t intend to keep.

An hour later, after I’d had a long shower,
dried my hair, and squeezed in a few minutes for minimal make-up, I tiptoed out of my room and down the hallway. I could still hear Dad’s sound machine running as I passed in front of his bedroom, so I tried to walk as quietly as possible as I snuck by; on weekends, he allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in until nine, so he still had a couple hours of beauty rest ahead of him. I imagined my sister did, as well. I could tell from the gap under Bailey’s door that she hadn’t turned on her light, nor were there any sounds coming from beyond her door other than faint snores. So that settled that. She was staying home.

Just down the hall
and past the bedrooms, I stopped off at the kitchen and grabbed a banana to go. I left a post-it on the counter and scrawled a note, reminding both Dad and Bailey that I was off to school for the orientation.

And then I set off, taking the car that I shared with my sister.

The school was only a ten minute drive from the center of Sugar Creek, but the drive seemed much faster on a quiet, Saturday morning. As I turned off of Main Street and onto Highway 6, I stretched over to the passenger’s seat to dig my cell phone out of my purse. After I found it buried at the bottom beneath my wallet and a pack of gum, I let my eyes wander down to check the screen. I punched in the four-number passcode, opened up my messages, and felt my heart sink to my stomach.

No new messages.

But that wasn’t much of a surprise
, was it? Part of me hoped that Bailey would roll out of bed and send a last-minute text, begging me to drive back and pick her up. But there was nothing there.

I dropped my phone to my lap
.

I settled my hands back on the wheel
and focused my stare on the road again. With no time to think about Bailey or my budding agitation for her self-absorbency, my eyes centered on something barricading the road up ahead: only ten yards away, a man stood directly in the middle of my lane, unaware of the car headed straight for him. With his hands propped on his hips and his eyes focused off to the side, he studied the park entrance gates as if he had not one reservation about blocking the middle of an open highway.

The car closed in on him in
a matter of seconds, and with no time to hit the horn, I jerked back and slammed both feet down on the brake pedal. Even with the added force of an extra foot, the car still didn’t stop, but took a rough thrust forward. The front bumper clipped his legs, jerking the car again. With the tires finally screeching to a sudden halt, the force of the man’s entire body slammed against my hood, rolling halfway up the windshield until the side of his face met the glass with a violent blow.

“
Oh God,
” I said under my breath, and then I killed the engine. I jumped out of my car just as the man peeled himself from the hood and backed away.

Breathing
heavily, he let his arms fall flat to his sides. I watched him, feeling just as breathless as he looked. I noticed the way his dirtied, blond hair was mussed beneath a crooked, baseball cap and clinging to the top of his sweaty forehead. His gray shirt was stained and ripped, and the filth on his angular face matched the color of his dirtied jeans and scuffed up shoes. Somewhere, buried beneath his short, scruffy beard and a clump of dried mud, his lips thinned.

Although young, he looked nothing short of
beaten-down, exhausted, tired, and burned out. I wasn’t entirely convinced, judging by the state of his appearance, that being hit by a car was the worst thing that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours. He was a hot mess.

“
Hello?” I said, waving a single hand in front of his face, but he still didn’t move. My heart was racing, pounding so quickly against my chest that I could almost feel it on the brink of explosion. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say? I knew that I had to say
something
. I’d nearly killed the guy!

It wasn’t until I tasted the salty tears on my lips that I even realized
that I started crying.

Pull yourself together, Mandy
. Do
not
let him see you cry!

I quickly wiped my tears aw
ay with the backside of my hand and took another step forward.

“
Are you going to say something or…?”

As if the impact had knocked him senseless, his pale eyes wandered aimlessly from the street to the park and then back to the car
. He finally lifted his head and straightened his stance—not that he needed the added height. He pressed his lips into a thin line and furrowed his brow, and then he focused his narrow stare in my direction.

A
lthough I was a little frightened by his silent gaze, I mimicked his posture and stood straighter, refusing to back away. I squared my shoulders and stared directly at him, waiting for him to answer my question. Just when I thought that he wasn’t going to say a word, he suddenly opened his mouth and licked his bottom lip.

“Were you texting just now
?”

“
Excuse me?”

“When you hit me,” he said, raising his voice
, “you were on your phone, weren’t you?”

“I was only checking
—”

“You could’ve killed me!”

“Yeah, I get that,” I said. I took another step toward him, but he backed away. I noticed with his step that he had limped, and it almost seemed as though he had to drag his left leg with him as he moved. My heart grew heavier as I watched him struggle to make it back to the sidewalk.

“You’re hurt,
” I said quietly and mostly to myself.

“
Imagine that.” The thick mockery in his voice rattled me as he limped away.

“
Give me a second.” I turned back to my car to get my phone. As soon as I had my back to him, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Trying to keep my nerves from coming through my voice, I said, “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“Yeah, don’t bother.
I think you’ve done enough.”

“
Don’t be ridiculous,” I hissed at him. “You’re hurt, and you need to see a doctor.”

“I’m
fine.”

“
You’re not
fine
!”

“I’m great.”

“You’re limping!”

“So what?”
he snapped, and I jumped as he turned back to me with a pointed finger. “There is
no
excuse for what just happened here.”

“
Yeah, no joke,” I said. “You were standing in the middle of the road!”

“And
you
weren’t paying attention!”

“
Okay, dude, listen,” I said, “I don’t know what to say.” I clenched my teeth. “What happened here was
not
my fault. Now, I can call for help—”

“I don’t want your help,” he said
, dropping his hand. “Just go.”

“
Are you serious?”

“
Go,” he said, turning to walk away. “And here’s a grand idea: put your phone away before you kill someone.”

I stood and watched him for a minute, feeling my chest rise and fall a little heavier
with every, broken breath. The man kept limping away, slowly making his way back through the park gates and farther from the road. He disappeared down a side-path a few seconds later, and I turned back to my car.

What was I supposed to do? Call the police? Call Dad? I had to let someone know, right? Keeping it quiet could seriously come back and bite me in the butt.
But what if it didn’t?
Could I just get in my car and pretend it had never happened?

At a complete loss as to what I should do, I slid into the driver’s seat and dropped my phone into my purse. I buckled my seat belt, started the engine, and with the heavy weight of
a guilty conscience, I put the car into drive.

“Rule number
ten,” I said quietly to myself as I slowly pulled away. “Keep moving forward.”

I didn’t exceed thirty-five miles an hour the rest of the way, although part of me wanted nothing more than to gun it. I was torn between my fear of hitting another pedestrian and being followed by the psychopath I’d just left injured back at the park. I would be lying to say that there wasn’t a tiny part of me that feared he had just gone back into the park to get his own car, only so that he could follow me, wait until I got out of mine, and then  get his revenge by running
me
down. Some people were just vengeful that way.

I was relieved when I finally arrived at school and happy that I didn
’t have to weave in and out of dozens of cars to get to my spot. I was used to fighting an endless line of traffic as my fellow classmates scrambled into the lot each morning, but there were very few cars parked near the school entrance when I arrived.

A creature of habit, I parked in my assigned
, weekday spot. I dropped my head against the steering wheel and rested there for a few minutes.

I stretched my neck from side to side.
With closed eyes, a few deep breaths, and a slow count to ten, I managed to slowly calm my nerves, collect my thoughts, and pull myself back into a volunteer-mindset.

Guided by
my ten self-imposed rules, I found it a lot easier to retain control of my life.
I
was the one standing at the helm, so it was my responsibility to make sure each day was smooth sailing from start to finish. Right then, I knew that the only rule that would suffice would be
Rule #4: Never let one moment define the rest of the day
.

I stepped outside and hustled up to the building, entering
through the auditorium doors. For the first time since leaving home that morning, I didn’t have to remind myself to breathe.

“
Mandy?” a familiar voice said as I crossed through the doors. I turned to greet Lashell, one of the head program staffers for the Raddick Initiative.

“Yes,” I said, nodding to confirm that she’d remembered me correctly.

“Good morning.” She beamed a smile. “I’m so glad you could make it out today.”

“Yeah
,” I said, trying to bury my insecurities, but I knew that I failed miserably. I closed my eyes and attempted to shake away the guilt and fear that still lingered deep inside me.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, nodding a few times, and then I managed to feign a halfway believable smile.

She watched me closer, and h
er wide grin slowly faded into a sympathetic one. She knew I was lying.

Though I
’d only met her the day before at the information assembly, I’d quickly pegged Lashell Dunham as one of the most giving and caring souls I’d ever met. Nearing her sixties and having committed decades of her life to charity and volunteer work, Lashell knew a thing or two about the best programs to get involved with. The Raddick Initiative was the best of the best.

W
hile I’d sat and listened as she told us all about the program and her many, many years of working toward a brighter future, I felt inspired to take that leap and sign my name. With my signature, along with Bailey’s, I promised Lashell I’d see her bright and early for the orientation meeting today. I’d made no such promise about my sister.

“No Bailey?”

“No Bailey.” I matched her disappointed expression. “I figured it’d be a long shot.”

She nodded.
“You can go ahead and have a seat with the others, hon,” she said, nodding to my few classmates who’d also signed up. “But, first,” she turned to a table she’d set up at the doors, pulled a white t-shirt from a cardboard box, and tossed it to me with one swift throw. “Slip into this. The colors are school-specific. We’d like you to wear that to each of your events over the next six weeks. It’s just for pictures and identification purposes. The SCHS volunteers are in white, and the staffers,” she looked down at her own shirt, “blue. Everyone affiliated with your team will be wearing navy or white with the RI emblem.”