Unbreakable Rules (Too Many Rules Book 3) (9 page)

Things had changed. We'd been back to school for three days and things had definitely changed. The school seemed smaller, the walls closer somehow. As if everything was at three-fifth scale. An old, stale smell seemed to permeate the halls and my shoulders itched with a desire to be outside. To be done. To move on.

I'm sure the spring nip in the air, the clear blue skies, and the new yellow daffodils had a lot to do with it. But still, I couldn't shake the fact that things had changed.

Mary Ellison and Beth Roberts had decided to join the Jarret camp. I guess I couldn't blame them, their boyfriends were teammates of his. It seemed that Jarret had spent the blackout period visiting friends. Telling everyone that he had to break up with me because I was a cold, vindictive bitch who didn't understand his sensitive soul.

He actually used that term, sensitive soul. I swear he must have looked it up on-line because he never would have come up with it on his own.

Brittney being Brittney, of course, hung true. You've got to give it to her. She never bought into the whole sensitive soul part. She'd laughed out loud and reverse snorted half a Coke the first time Mary had told her. That's my Bri.

The school seemed to have come down to a forty-sixty split. Forty percent for me of course. In reality, it was probably closer to thirty. But, forty sounds better. Anyway. I wasn't being ostracized, or shut out. Nothing that blatant. People had to be careful. You never knew. The two social pinnacles might get back together.

My fellow students weren't idiots. They'd play both sides until things settled out, but I could already tell how it was going. Fewer smiled greetings in the hall. A turned back here, a rolled eye there.  Jerry Sands was holding a party this weekend and I hadn't been invited. Little things.

I've got to admit, it hurt a little. What surprised me though was exactly how little it did hurt.  A couple of weeks ago I'd have been a raging cyclone of anger.

How dare he act like it was all his idea and I was the bad person in all of this? I'm sure there would have been a very public display of ass chewing. I just couldn't seem to muster the same level of worry. It wasn't that important and I didn't know why.

Maybe because I could see the end coming. Seven weeks from now we'd graduate, and I'd rarely see these people again.

Maybe it was the idea of my mom and Nana talking late into the night around our kitchen table. I think Aunt Susan's illness had scared them both.

They were making a real effort to talk out issues and history. Maybe it was the time I spent over at Ryan's. I'd been shown that there was a world outside my own little universe of Prom and Homecoming. Who was wearing what and who was dating whom? There was so much more to life.

"Okay, that's it," Mr. Sinclair said, signing off on the last article and hitting the "go" button on his computer, sending the school paper to the printers.

He nodded to Eric Jenkins and said, "Good Job."

We reporters on the school paper's staff relaxed in our seats. No rewrites this time, we were getting better. It'd only taken us seven months.

"I want to try something a little different this year," Mr. Sinclair said as he stood up and walked to the front of his desk. "I've discussed it with Eric and he's onboard. I want you to interview the students you think are going to make the biggest impact on the world in the future. You know, one of those, 'They were that, back when,' type of articles. The type of thing that you guys can discuss at your fortieth reunion. What do you think?"

"Do you mean like, 'Who is most likely to succeed?’" someone in the back asked.

"No, more than that. Who they are, what they see their future being. Imagine if you could go back in time and interview Hillary Clinton when she was in high school, or George Bush, Katy Perry, or Russell Wilson. What would you ask them? What would future generations like to know?"

Silence fell over the class as we pondered his suggestion.

John Simpson raised his hand. "How about Tim Barley? He got an appointment to West Point. I bet he's a famous General someday." It seemed to open the floodgates of ideas.

Mr. Sinclair began writing names on the board.

"Yeah, how about Randy Cleaver, he's wicked on the guitar, his band's pretty good, have you heard him?"

"Marla Woods is going to Harvard, she wants to be a doctor. A surgeon."

"Jarret McGee. He's bound to start at Oregon in a couple of years. Maybe the pros after that."

It took a lot for me not to laugh at the idiocy of that last statement. I couldn't see Jarret going anywhere. He'd always relied too much on his parents. I was pretty sure he was going to fall flat on his face when he got out on his own. At least, that was my fondest desire.

"What about you, Ms. Martin?” the teacher asked me. “You're awfully quiet over there. Who do you think needs to be interviewed? Who's going to have the biggest impact on the future?"

Without really thinking about it I said, "Ryan Hardy."

"Huh?"

"Who?"

"That tall Nerd. He hangs out at the Nerd table during lunch." Eric said.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Somebody laughed. I whipped around to find out who, ready to bite someone's head off.

"Interesting, Ms. Martin. Why?" the teacher said from the front of the room.

"Yes. Why?" Bri said from the desk next to mine. Her eyebrows had risen to two points in bewilderment.

My stomach turned over in worry. I didn't want to make Ryan's life miserable and for some reason, I was worried about people getting the wrong impression. Besides, if I was going to turn him into something socially acceptable I only had a few short weeks.

Shrugging my shoulders, I said, "Because I think he's going to be the next Bill Gates or Mark Zuckerberg."

"Yeh, right," Suzy Rawlings said with a laugh.

"God, I hope not," Eric said. "I spent fifth-grade shooting spitballs at him in Miss Ring's class."

"No, she's right,” Amy Johnson chirped in from the back. “Ryan's a genius when it comes to computers. He should be interviewed."

Bri was looking at me funny. As if I'd lost my mind, and she was trying to decide whether to help me find it or not.

"Okay, we'll add Ryan Hardy to the list. Anyone else?"

Bri didn't ask any questions as we left the class, but I know her curiosity was pegged to the max. I silently thanked the stars for keeping her quiet. I wasn't really ready to talk about it.

Mark was fighting with his locker door when I came up behind him. "Where's Ryan this time of day?" I asked.

He about jumped out of his skin as he twisted around to face me. A flash of worry crossed his eyes before he could pull it back under control. "Why?"

"Jesus Mark, don't make this some big dramatic issue. I need to talk to him. That's all. Okay?"

He studied me for a moment, then his shoulders slumped in resignation. "He's in the computer lab. He's got it for both fifth and sixth period."

Good, that wasn't far and I had stuff to do. I could hurry over and set something up for later. Mark looked at me as if I'd just taken away his favorite comic.

"Why'd you tell me?" I asked.

"Because he'd kill me if he ever found out I didn't."

My eyebrows narrowed in confusion. Mark's statement didn't really make sense, but then, that wasn't unusual for Mark.

At the end of the west wing of our school was that bastion of Nerd's Ville known as the computer lab. It had long been the sanctified home of the nerds, outcasts and forgotten others. A place they could call their own.

The jocks had the quad, the drama queens, the school theater. The band kids hung out in the auditorium. Each group had their own special place and the computer lab was for the nerds.

It had started out years ago as a typing class. I laughed to myself thinking about it. Imagine, they used to have classes to teach kids how to type. Nowadays most of us could type forty words a minute with our thumbs.

Looking through the window in the door I scanned the room for Ryan. It was made up of long tables filled with all kinds of electronic equipment. Most of it in pieces. Groups of students, mostly boys, were gathered into small clusters working on things.

I couldn't see Ryan anywhere. Had Mark sent me on a wild goose chase? There wasn't a teacher, either. Wasn't there supposed to be a teacher here? Who was I going to give Mr. Sinclair's note too?

I cracked the door and stuck my head in. Several of the boys looked up, their mouths dropping open when they saw me. You'd think they'd never seen a girl before. Ignoring them, I stepped into the classroom.

Ryan was at the back surrounded by five or six younger boys, freshmen. One girl stood with them, ponytail, black glasses. She was looking up at him as if he was telling them the secrets of the universe.

Brackets inside parentheses with words and symbols all mixed up together. It looked like an algebra book had mated with a thesaurus.

I held back and watched him for a moment. He towered over his audience. His hair was mussed up and he had black marks on his hands from the marker. He kept fiddling with the marker top. Putting it on, then pulling it off. Twiddling it in his hands.

The younger students seemed to be hanging on every word. No teacher could have held a class with more devotion. He pointed to a young boy, Jenny Snow's younger brother Jack, and asked him a question. Jack hesitated for a moment, then gave him an answer in some language I didn't understand. Ryan smiled, "Yes, good," he said as he added it to the board.

Jack's face lit up like a neon sign. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy answering a question and getting it right. This was important to him, I realized. Ryan's simple praise had made this boy's day.

My mind flashed to a scene of Jarret taunting a freshman football player. Hazing him really. He'd tripped him on purpose. Then, when the boy had tried to get up, he'd knocked him over again and laughed his head off.

What had I ever seen in the jerk? I wondered as a sense of shame washed through me.

Ryan saw me waiting for him. He froze in mid-sentence, our eyes locking for a moment. A warm sensation grew inside if me. It was nice seeing him again. We traveled in such different worlds that our paths never crossed. The lunch room the other day had been our only conversation and that hadn't been exactly all that smooth.

Handing the marker to Jack, he left the group and walked towards me, frowning all the way. I wondered what was it about my presence that made him upset.

"Um ... what are you doing here?" he asked.

I was taken aback by his abruptness. It took me a moment to recover. "Hello Ryan, it's nice to see you again, too." I answered and realized it sounded a little snotty, even for me.

His shoulders relaxed and a faint smile creased his lips. I think he realized how rude he'd sounded.

"Hi Hailey, sorry, you surprised me. What's up?"

Now, it was my time to relax. Surprises, he didn't like them. Something to remember. I hesitated for a moment. Knowing how much he despised bringing attention to himself. It was going to be hard to convince him to do the interview. I just knew it.

"Um ... You know I'm on the paper, a reporter, right?"

He nodded his head, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"Well," I continued, "we've been assigned to do interviews for the next edition. Interview those students we think are going to have the biggest impact on the world in the future. That is. You know, after we graduate." Why was I rambling? "Anyway. I was hoping you would let me interview you."

"Me? Why me?" he asked his eyebrows rising in confusion.

"You know why. That whole Microsoft thing. State Chess Champion. Next Bill Gates. Come on, please." I hadn't planned on stooping to beg, but if that's what it took. I desperately wanted to write this article. I wanted the kids in this school to see Ryan, the real Ryan.

His face began to turn red and he stared down at his shoes for a moment. I was sure he was going to say no. Life would be so much easier for him if I just went away. It was written all over his face.

Taking a deep breath he looked up and slowly nodded, "Okay."

I slowly let out a long breath. "Great. I could come by your house today after school. I need to visit Nana and it’d be nice to see Amanda." Did I just invite myself over to Ryan Hardy's house? Not something I had really planned out.

What would Bri say? I could just imagine her shaking her head and mumbling under her breath.

"Um, sure, I guess," he said as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked extremely uncomfortable as if I'd just asked him to perform a violin solo in front of the entire school. All I was doing was coming over to his house to ask some questions for a newspaper article.

My stomach felt like it was coming apart inside. Rumbling and tumbling. I kept pacing in the kitchen waiting for Hailey to show up. We hadn't set a time. She could be here any moment or hours from now. I didn't know which would be worse.

What did she want to know? I hated the idea of people knowing things about me. It was ammunition they could use. Why help them out?

"Will you stop?" Amanda snapped from the kitchen table where she was doing the school work Mom had left for her. "Go down stairs, work on your computer stuff. I'll let you know when she gets here. I promise."

I looked at my sister trying to register what she’d said. Yes, my lab. I should go to my lab. Maybe I could relax.

Miracle of miracles, it worked. Within minutes, I was lost in other people's problems. I got buried in researching a path through a company's Intrusion Detection System. Trying to find a way through without being found out. I’d just discovered a promising possibility when I heard the door at the head of the stairs open.

"Ryan, Hailey is here," Amanda yelled.

I quickly closed out of what I was working on. Being sure to save the important parts. Turning, I watched Hailey walk down the stairs. She'd changed clothes since school. Now she was wearing a light blue blouse, jeans, and tennis shoes. My stomach started falling apart again.

She was gorgeous. The blouse matched her eyes. Flat over her stomach and not too tight across the chest, just the right amount of tight, in fact. Her jeans filled every curve, emphasizing her female shape. My heart skipped and my breath hitched. How does she do it? Always looks so perfect, so wonderful, so damn sexy it hurt.

"Hey, Ryan. Is it okay if I come down?" she asked, hesitating on the stairs. As if I could have said, ‘No,’ if I wanted to.

"Um ... Sure. We can do it down here." My mind jumped to the alternative meaning of what that could have meant. I wanted to kick myself until I realized she hadn't seen my mistake. Take it easy Ryan, this is Hailey. You already know she's nice.

‘Do. Not. Screw. This. Up,’ I told myself. Forcing my body to relax as I smiled at her.

She stepped off the bottom stair and looked around the Bat Cave.

"Wow," she said. "Did you really build all of this? Mark said you did it from spare parts and cast off equipment."

"Yeah, I got some of it from EBay for pennies on the dollar. I used to haunt the recycling place and Goodwill, too. You'd be surprised what people throw away." I watched her go from equipment rack to equipment rack, examining each piece. My heart began to swell. She seemed genuinely impressed. Who would have ever thought that Hailey Martin would visit me in my mother's basement?

"I read some of your articles," I said, wanting to shift the focus. "You're good. I like your writing. I especially like your reports on the dangers of concussions in high school sports. It was very well written." Now it was her turn to feel embarrassed. A very pretty blush settled onto her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said with a small dip of her head. "Maybe we should get started."

"Um ... Okay."

She pulled another stool up to my workbench and took a small notebook and pen from her back pocket. Holding them up she said, "I hope you don't mind if I take notes."

"Um no, of course not," I said as my stomach turned over once again. Would it ever settle down?

"Fine, let's get started. How did you get into computers? What is it about them that you like so much?"

After a moment, I started telling her about how I liked the fact that there was no gray area. The same thing meant the same thing every time. How they all came down to yes or no, on or off, ones and zeros.

The absence of ambiguity is a wonderful thing.

Hailey laughed and wrote in her notebook. Smiling she looked up and continued asking questions. She was good, very good. It was an hour into the interview and ten minutes into a lecture about computer security before I realized I was rambling.

She was a phenomenal listener. A world champion. I'd forgotten that I was sharing my opinions and thoughts.

She'd softly ask me a question, smile up at me, and I'd melt trying hard to impress her. She'd pretend to be interested, occasionally jotting something in her notebook, but mostly looking at me, nodding as if she agreed. A man could bare his soul in such a situation. It would happen to anyone. 

I halted in mid-sentence. This was way too much. I'm sure I'd bored her out of her mind.

She smiled at me once again. "Okay, one final question. If you could do anything, what would it be?"

I looked at those luscious lips and felt myself begin to lean forward. 'Kiss you,' I almost said before I caught myself. She was talking about the computer world. What would I do with computers?

Pulling myself back I thought about her questions. I had long ago had an idea, but never really told anyone.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Everything a person does on an electronic device leaves a trace. That information is captured by companies and governments. Even ours. Every internet site you visit. Every phone number you dial. When you purchase something on-line. Your size, color preference, style choice. It's all stored in a thousand different places. Do you understand?"

"Sure, everybody knows that."

"Well, I believe that information should be yours to control. Not theirs. I don't think a company should know what movie I like, or what books I read. Not unless I want them to know it. Information is power. It always has been, and I want to find a way to take that power back."

She was silent for a moment. "So, you want to write a program that lets a person control the information about themselves."

"It's either that or write a program where angry birds shoot cannons at castle walls," I said.

She laughed. "Well if anyone could, you will."

We stared at each other for a minute. My heart raced as I looked into her beautiful blue eyes. They were like a mesmerizing pool of deep water, pulling me in.

Without thinking, I said, "Do you want to go out sometime?"

My heart stopped. What had I done? My God had I just asked Hailey Martin out on a date? Surely the universe was going to tip on its axis. I'd just asked her to betray her social network, her support group, and her friends, all at once. A Celeb dating a Nerd would not be accepted.

"What?" she asked, her eyebrows rising in confusion.

"Um ... never mind. Forget ...”

"No, No. You surprised me that's all." Her eyes narrowed in concern. "Um. Sure. Yes, I guess. What did you have in mind?"

My heart started beating again. I also realized there was a God after all. Not only hadn't she laughed in my face, but she said, 'yes.’

Plans. She wanted to know what I had planned. I should have thought this through. Something like this demanded detailed planning.

"Uh, a movie, maybe. How about this Friday?" Wow, I sounded a lot smoother than I felt. I could confirm that my insides had finished dismantling themselves.

She smiled and nodded. "Sure that sounds great. Let me know when and where."

An awkward silence fell between us. She was probably kicking herself for saying, ‘yes.’ Probably already trying to figure a way out.

"I should probably be going. I need to type up my notes while the interview is still fresh. Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it. I think it's going to make for a good article."

Nodding like a drunken bobble head, I smiled. What was I supposed to say, now? I'd already said way more than I had ever planned. Hailey Martin had said, ‘yes’ to going out with me. An unbreakable rule had just been shattered. 

Following Hailey up the stairs has to rank up there as one of the greatest experiences in my long, but sad life. Her beautifully shaped rear end swayed back and forth in front of me as she climbed each step sending my heart into hyper drive.

At the front door, she thanked me again, smiled, reminding me to let her know about Friday. All I could do was nod my head.

I waited until she pulled away in her car before screaming, "YES," at the top of my lungs and pumping my fists into the air.

Amanda stood at the kitchen table smiling. "You're going to need different clothes. You can't wear your regular clothes," she said.

"Huh, what's wrong with my clothes? And how do you know what I'm wearing, anyway?" I asked.

"Let me guess, jeans and a T-shirt. Am I right?"

My little sister shook her head. Clothes, yeah I should probably wear something different.

"Okay fashion guru, what should I wear for a date with Hailey Martin?" I couldn't believe myself when I said it like that.

Amanda smiled and shook her head again. "I think something with a collar at least."

Clothes. Car. What else did I need to do before Friday?

Face it, Hailey, I thought to myself as I turned over in bed for the tenth time. You've got a crush on Ryan Hardy. All the signs are there. My heart had raced when he asked me out. A surge of pure joy had flashed through me. I desperately wanted to know where we were going on Friday. Most of all I wondered what he thought about me.

Had it been some throwaway line? Had he felt obligated because we'd been spending so much time together? What could he possibly see in someone like me?

I mean the man was a certified genius. Sure, he wasn't high in the social pecking order, but that was only because it wasn't important to him.

Oh crap. Social pecking order. People were going to freak when they found out that I went to the movies with Ryan Hardy. I could hear it already, 'She's fallen so far so fast. All the way from Jarret McGee to Ryan Hardy,' or, 'A Nerd? She's crazy, bat crap crazy.'

I lay there hugging my pillow and parsed the ramifications. Weighing the pros and cons, I realized I was going to take a hit for this, and I also realized, I didn't really care. Maybe Ryan Hardy was rubbing off on me.

He was so different. It was as if he was from a different country or something. He saw the world so differently. He treated the world with respect, I realized. He does it without even trying. It was just who he was.

Ryan Hardy. Who would ever have thought?

The week seemed to drag. It felt like Friday would never get there. Ryan had approached me at my locker the very next morning and asked if six would be okay on Friday. We'd have time to grab something to eat at the mall before the movie started at seven thirty.

Asked, not told, not instructed. Asked. It was nice to be treated with respect. I could get used to it. 

"Sure," I said, "that sounds great, I can't wait."

"Okay, great. I'll pick you up at six, then."

He smiled and got a little red. I swear if there'd been dirt on the floor he'd have kicked at it.

I watched him walk away. His tall, lanky frame moving with a grace I had never seen before. A warm fluttery feeling started low in my stomach and started building strength.

I didn't notice Bri come up behind me. "What was that all about?" she asked.

"Oh, Ryan was letting me know what time he was going to pick me up on Friday."

"What? Why?"

"We're going to the movies, that's why." I looked at her, my eyes narrowing into my stern look, waiting for her to say something bad. If she criticized Ryan, I was going to push back. I hadn't realized how important this Friday was becoming.

Bri registered my look and wisely kept quiet. "I hope you know what you're doing," was all she said as she silently shook her head.

I looked back down the hall as Ryan disappeared around a corner. "Oh, I've got a pretty good idea. But, you know something? I don't care. The butterflies in my stomach far outweigh any problems this might cause."

"Mom, have you seen my peasant blouse?" I yelled as I ran down the stairs. Six o'clock was coming way too fast. Why was I so nervous? My heart wouldn't stop racing, my palm wouldn't stop sweating, and my stomach felt like a knot of chains. This was ridiculous, it was Ryan Hardy for Crist's sake.

"It's hanging in the laundry room where you left it last week. Why, honey?" she asked.

I needed that blouse. It was perfect for tonight, not dressy, but I looked good in it. Grown up. As if I was in college. Especially when paired up with the right jeans.

"I'm going out," I yelled to my mom as I ran back upstairs.

"With whom?"

That's my mom, always perfect English. "With Ryan Hardy, that's whom."

"And Ryan Hardy is?"

"Nana's neighbor, you remember, I told you about him. I stayed at their house during the power outage."

"Oh," was all she said and I knew she was going to call Nana to get all the details. Well, at least, it gave them something to talk about.

At six, on the dot, our doorbell rang. My heart jumped and stomach fell. Here we go Hailey, I thought as I grabbed my purse and headed down the stairs. Mom had beat me to the front door of course. She was nice enough to wait until I'd caught my breath and made one last check in the mirror.