Unbreakable Rules (Too Many Rules Book 3) (3 page)

"Amanda," I yelled at the top of my lungs. A heavy silence greeted me. Shaking my head, I reached the bottom of the regular stairs and yelled again.

She was probably upstairs in her room listening to her music. Racing up the stairs with Mark on my heels I banged on her door three times. Loud enough to pierce through whatever it was she was listening to.

"What?" a soft feminine voice demanded.

My heart started beating again in relief as I opened the door, shining the week flashlight beam on my sister. She was laying on her bed, her hands tucked behind her neck.

Her head turned to follow my movement across the room. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt she looked like any other fifteen-year-old girl until you saw her eyes. They weren't strange or deformed. Just slow to track what was going on around her. They always seemed to be a split second behind.

Mark halted at her door. He better. Amanda would skin us both alive if Mark stepped into her room.

"The power's out," I said.

She frowned for a moment, "So?"

"The lights are out," Mark said from the doorway.

Her head whipped to the side. I could tell she was placing Mark into her reference points and making sure he was still outside her room. Sitting up she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and removed her headphones, gently placing them into their normal spot on her bedside table.

"Again. So?" she said with a soft smile. "Welcome to my world guys."

My heart turned over. I really could never understand what my sister's life was like.

"I just thought you should know," I said as we made our way downstairs. "Where does Mom keep the candles?"

"In the junk drawer in the kitchen," Amanda said. She was the resident expert on the location of all items in the house.

I made my way downstairs with both of them following.

"Damn," Mark muttered as he banged into an end table. "Hey, how about shining the light this way. She doesn't need it, remember."

Amanda laughed. It was obvious that she was enjoying his pain.

I retrieved the candles, lighting them with a book of matches I found in the same drawer. Placing one in the dining room I brought the other one into the living room, cupping it to ensure the flame wasn't blown out.

Turning the flashlight off, I flopped into a recliner and waited. Mark and Amanda had taken opposite ends of the couch. Each of them scooted into the far corner. As far away from each other as it was possible to be without being obvious.

I shook my head, those two had perfected the art of ignoring each other. To Mark, Amanda would always be my annoying little sister who had interrupted way too many late night sessions of World of Warcraft and insisted on joining our Star Wars marathons.

To Amanda, Mark would always be my infuriating best friend who treated her like a necessary evil. Something he had to put up with if he wanted to hang out with me.

"You should check on Mrs. Thompson," Amanda said.

"You're probably right," I said as I grabbed the flashlight.

"Who's Mrs. Thompson?" Mark asked.

"She's our next door neighbor," Amanda answered. "She's older than dirt. Probably in her sixties, I bet. She used to babysit me when I was a little kid."

"You're still a little kid," Mark said with a sneer.

Amanda returned the sneer. "Careful, you're showing your stupidness again. Anyway, we've always looked out for her."

"Mom says we owe her big time," I added. "When Dad left, Mrs. Thompson stepped in and helped Mom get through the tough times."

Amanda winced when I mentioned Dad, but it didn't do any good ignoring the truth.

"You guys stay here, I'll just run over and check on her. I'll be right back."

Grabbing the flashlight, I headed next door. It felt good to be doing something. I liked Mrs. Thompson. She was one of those people who always smiled. She seemed to enjoy life and couldn't understand why anyone wasn't having a great time.

Outside was as dark as inside. A black moonless night with a heavy cloud cover. Several of the houses across the street had their candles or lamps working.

It was the silence that hit me like a fist to the gut. The only sound, a slight breeze ruffling the leaves across the grass.

My breath hitched a little in the cold air. If there'd been any light, I probably could have seen my breath.

Mrs. Thompson's house appeared dark and empty. I'd expected candles flickering in every window. Hurrying, I reached over to push the doorbell, then laughed at myself. Knocking, I stepped back and waited. A faint noise behind the door let me know someone was there.

"Mrs. Thompson, it's Ryan from next door," I said. "Ryan Hardy."

There was a long pause as I stared at her front door. Shifting from foot to foot I tried to stay warm while I waited for the older woman to make her way to the door. Was she trying to find her way in the dark?

The click of the lock let me know that she'd finally made it. The door slowly opened exposing a blackness behind her.

I slowly raised my flashlight beam, being sure not to get it into her eyes.

My heart stopped and lungs seized into a tight ball. The goddess herself, Hailey Martin stood in Mrs. Thompson's doorway looking at me as if I might be Freddy Kruger or any of a dozen serial killers.

I hate the dark. Have I told you how much I hate the dark?

So there I was, homeless, phoneless, and boy-friendless. Stuck in a house I barely knew, my phone sitting in a bag of rice.  In some godforsaken housing development hidden in the woods. Unable to have friends over. Feeling rather sorry for myself.

Then, the world ended, just to prove to me that things could always get worse. The power went out.

The sudden pitch black and deathly silence seemed like a sentence from God for living such a crappy life. I obviously needed one more thing to drive the point home.

I hate the dark. I mean on a bone-deep level hate. Not dislike. Not, don't care for. Hate! Pure and simple. A full-throated emotion that made my body shake. I had my reasons. Something about cousins, a hide and seek game, and a locked closet.

I especially didn't like what it did to me. I became weak and needy. Very much not attractive qualities.

The only thing worse was the dark in Nana's house. I didn't know where things were. A smothering quiet hung around me. The absence of a distant TV or the refrigerator motor was glaringly obvious. A not so subtle reminder of how alone I was. To top it off, her dog, and the reason for my house sitting, was a clingy mess.

Brantley, her lug of a golden retriever, followed me around with his head down, whimpering. Not exactly your brave guard dog. No, Nana has to have a quivering puddle of a dog.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath as I connected with another end table.

The furniture kept jumping in my way as I crept from room to room trying to find candles or a flashlight. My legs were going to look like a soccer practice without shin guards.

Three short knocks on the front door had me jumping out of my skin. Who or what would be out at this time of night? Every slasher movie I'd ever seen flashed through my mind.

My skin crawled thinking about all the possibilities. That part where the power goes out just before the teenage girl is attacked by some weirdo with a god awful weapon dreamt up in the sicko's deep nightmares.

My heart raced, threatening to climb up my throat. Goosebumps ran up and down my arm making me shiver. Okay, the day could get worse. Way worse.

Why would someone be knocking? Would a killer do that? Wouldn't they just break in, or hide behind the bathroom door? I couldn't imagine Freddie Kruger or Jason knocking. Could you?

Brantley didn't even bark. Instead, he shimmied up next to my leg and leaned into me. I swear if he could have, he'd have jumped into my arms.

Add a new unbreakable rule. - Do not be that idiot girl who gets killed in the first part of the movie. The one who walks into the dark cellar because she heard a noise. Or, goes back to check on her boyfriend. Or in my case ex-boyfriend. Those girls always ended up surrounded by a pool of their own blood.

Not me. Jamie Lee Curtis was my new role model. She survived the movie. In fact, she did such a good job of surviving they were able to have a sequel. Right then, at that moment. Living long enough to have a sequel was my main goal in life. That, and finding some kind of light.

"Mrs. Thompson, it's Ryan from next door," a male voice said. "Ryan Hardy," he continued.

I knew that voice, I knew that name. My body relaxed as I realized it was a guy from school. Not just any guy, but Ryan Hardy, the most non-threatening person I could have thought of. He might be sort of weird but not in a creepy way. As far away as you could get from an evil slasher.

At least, I hoped so because I was going to open the door. That's how much I hate the dark.

My breath escaped in a quick whoosh. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it. Putting my hands out in front of me I felt the air. Shuffling along, one foot in front of the other.

I could imagine a dozen mishaps. I'd knock a lamp over cutting my foot on the broken glass, or I'd walk into a wall and give myself a concussion. Like I said. I was now a firm believer. It could always get worse.

Throwing the lock I prepared to open the door. My hand rested on the knob for a moment as another shiver traveled up and down my spine. If I was wrong and he turned out to be a serial killer, it was going to change my whole perspective on those dead girls in the movies.

Sighing, I pulled the door open and was immediately blinded by a big beautiful light. My eyes slammed shut as the pupils contracted. It was like looking at the sun on a hot summer day. Even with my eyes closed I could feel the light. A warm red glow seeped through my eyelids, letting me know that there was something other than dark.

I could feel myself being pulled to it. A physical need to draw close and protect it. Something this fragile, this valuable, needed safe keeping.

If someone had told me I had to close that door and shut out the light, I couldn't have done it. We'd have gotten into a serious knockdown, scratch your eyes out fight. Have I told you how much I hate the dark?

My body slowly adjusted. My heart rate returned to some kind of normal and my palms stopped sweating enough for me to wipe them on my jeans. Opening my eyes into a squint, I could see a dark, vague shape behind the light. I assumed it was Ryan. If not, I was screwed.

He was taller than I remembered, but then, I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about Ryan Hardy. Although, he was quickly moving up on my list of favorite people.

"Uh ... Um .... A ... You're not Mrs. Thompson," he said from the dark.

Yes, that was Ryan Hardy. Relaxing, I smiled to myself. That familiar shy stutter was one of the greatest things I had ever heard.

"No, she's my grandmother, I'm house-sitting."

"Um ... Grandmother? I didn't know."

"Yeh, well my mother and Nana don't really get along. They're traveling together to my aunt's. I think they're both hoping to bury the hatchet." Why was I rambling? Fear did that to me. Brantley chooses that moment to switch allegiances, rushing past me to lean against the stranger at the door.

"Hi Brantley," Ryan said as he leaned down to pet him, giving the dog a tight hug around the neck. I could hear the smile in his voice. Why didn't the dog rate a stutter?

A brief pang of regret passed through me. This virtual stranger knew my grandmother and her dog better than I did. It didn't seem fair. One more thing to hold against my mother and her controlling ways. Why did she have to be like that? I wondered for the three-thousandth time.

"Can I borrow your light?" I asked. "I don't know where my Grandmother keeps her candles. I could use a hand finding them."

"Uh ... Sure," he answered. Looking at me like I'd just asked him to attack Hell armed only with a bucket of water.

I opened the door wider so that he could come in. A brief second thought passed through my mind. But, this was Ryan Hardy. The school’s chief nerd. Everything should be all right I assured myself. I mean, he'd never given off a creepy vibe. Not like a lot of the guys at school who couldn't seem to keep their eyes focused above your neck.

Ryan had always been into his own thing. You know. The kind of person who wasn't worried about the high school social scene and where he fit in. I envied him that. After today's fiasco, the social scene of Everton High School was looking a lot dumber by the minute.

"Let's try the kitchen first," he said as he hurried past me. Obviously, he'd been here before, many times, probably. That jealous envy returned. Had he and Nana shared stories? Had she offered him advice? He'd probably been able to talk to her about his parents and how screwed up they were. Sitting at her kitchen table, eating her homemade cookies. Nana would like someone like Ryan Hardy.

Using his precious light, he started going through drawers and cabinets looking for candles. He seemed to be in a hurry, his hands moving quickly through each drawer.

While I appreciated it, it made me think that he couldn't wait to get out of there. He probably needs to get back to his own family. You're not the center of his universe, I reminded myself

Standing in the middle of the darkened room I held my breath. I wasn't going to feel normal until I had some kind of light of my own.

Finding a pack of matches, he laid them on the counter. I immediately snatched them up and ran my fingers across the inside. At least fourteen matches.

"Nothing," Ryan said before moving into the dining room.

He uttered the same pronouncement in each room. What kind of grandmother leaves her granddaughter in a house without candles or flashlights?

Fourteen matches, that's all the woman possessed? How is it possible in today's world to exist without flashlights, candles, or lanterns? She didn't even have those sweet smelling candles from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Not even a box of birthday candles.

"I ... uh ... Don't think she has any," Ryan said with a quick shoulder shrug.

My heart stopped. Perfect, just perfect. My life was turning to crap and now I learned I was going to have to suffer through it in the dark. I know I was whining a lot. I'm not usually like that, but the day's events had wrung me dry.

Now I stood in Nana's kitchen with a boy I barely knew and just enough light to remind me how dark it was going to be when he left.

Like I said. My life was turning to crap.

"Um ... you could come hang out at our house ... until the power comes back on. I guess," Ryan said. His voice had hitched as if he wasn't too sure about the idea.

The Psycho shower scene music popped into my head. Was this his way of getting me to some dark, quiet place? The idea of being left here in the dark made my skin crawl, but all those movies wouldn't leave me alone.

Let's face it, if he wanted to attack me, you couldn't get much quieter or darker than Nana's kitchen.

"Mark Jones and my sister are there," he said as if reading my mind.

Come on Hailey, this is Ryan Hardy, the president of the computer club. I looked up into his eyes. The glow from the flashlight was barely enough to see him looking back down. He seemed anxious about something, but not in a creepy way. Like I said, he was tall, taller than I remembered. He wasn't as skinny as he used to be, either. Not buff like Jarret, but solid enough. In the dark, he didn't look as geeky as I remembered him.

I probably would have declined, but the thought of staying in Nana's house was too much. Have I told you how much I hate the dark?

Sighing to myself I nodded. "Okay, thanks."

His shoulders relaxed and a faint smile crossed his face before he turned without saying another word.

"Can I bring Brantley?" I asked. He wouldn't be much protection, but maybe Ryan didn't know that.

"Sure, Amanda would love it."

Shining that wonderful light on the doorknob, he waited while I locked up.

Waiving the light along the ground like a theater usher he led the way to his house next door.

My stomach kept turning over. Here I was alone with a boy I barely knew getting ready to walk into his house where I'd meet more people I didn't know.

"Do you have any idea how long the power will be out?"

"Four ... Um I don't know, the cell phones are out also," he said.

"The regular phones, too," I said.

Holding his front door open he yelled over the top of my head "Mark, Amanda, we have company."

I hesitated a moment. Holding my breath, I stepped in.

A warm yellow light flickered from the candle centered on a coffee table in the living room. After the darkness of Nana's house, it felt like a welcoming smile. Several other candles had been placed throughout the downstairs. A faint aroma of paraffin told me these people were prepared.

A young girl with brown hair stood up from the couch and stepped around the table.

"This is my sister Amanda, and you know Mark," Ryan said indicating the boy on the other end of the couch.

Mark Jones sat rock still with a fist full of potato chips. His mouth hung open like a beached bass. His eyes bugging out, he stared at me as if I was a ghost or something.

"Amanda, this is Hailey Martin, Mrs. Thompson's granddaughter. She's going to hang out here until the power comes back on.

Mark coughed up a lung full of chips.

"She brought Brantley," Ryan added.

The girl, Amanda, squealed, smiled and kneeled, holding her hands out for Brantley. The yellow coward charged into her, his tail wagging a million miles a minute. Obviously, old friends.

After getting her puppy fix, the girl stood up. Long brown hair hung to the middle of her back, she was dressed in jeans and a pink T-shirt. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. I frowned in confusion. I thought I knew everybody in our school. It wasn't that big. Was she home schooled? If so, why hadn't Ryan been? If anyone were perfect for homeschooling, it would have been Ryan. He probably could have graduated while I was still a freshman trying to figure out why I had to learn algebra.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you," she said as she stuck her hand out. Something was wrong. My alarms were on the verge of going off. She'd pointed it to the other side of Ryan. It wasn't that dark in here. I looked at her and for the first time realized her eyes were different. They weren't focused and seem to stare off into the distance.