by Teya Tapler
Rule # 3
Book 1
PINK
Some rules are meant to be broken …
By Teya Tapler
Rule Number 3 Series
Book 1 - Pink
Copyright 2015 © Teya Tapler
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To my family for all their help and support.
Time Traveling Association Employee Code of Conduct *
Do not change the past!
Do not leave technology traces behind!
Do not engage in emotional relationships with the locals!
Do not bring any weapons with you!
Do keep a low profile and stay invisible!
* If you have any questions, talk to your manager.
Some rules are meant to be broken …
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 1
“It’s a surprise. My … dad had the underground … floors of the … house renovated, turning … them into a one-of-a … kind entertainment … area. You’ll see,” Kevin said, leaving some really awkward pauses. He slicked back his blonde hair and got out of the car. The silly grin on his face didn’t hide very well how uncomfortable he was, acting as though he was alone with Evan for the first time. His eyes darted around and his hands trembled holding the door open for her.
Evan got out of the car and inspected her surroundings. It was dark and hard to see too far in the distance: the path was covered with gravel, the windows at the upper floors of the house were dark and the cloud-covered sky was hanging low making everything around them even quieter. A swift rush of cold air made her hesitate. Her happy thoughts stopped for a split second and searched for a place to hide.
She looked Kevin in the eye and took his hand - nothing was going to spoil her evening: Kevin’s father was away, and so were her parents. Dancing the night away with her Prince Charming would be the best night of her life.
Kevin escorted her to an inconspicuous door, hidden among the huge rhododendrons at the back of the house. It was a single panel door that opened inwards without squeaking.
“This way, my Lady!” he mustered some courage to speak without pauses and to grin once more.
Pink rose in hand, Evan entered the dark corridor, expecting the lights to go up any moment and for everyone to start shouting: Surprise! Anticipating balloons and whistles, she squeezed Kevin’s hand. Evan was going to have the best night of her life. She was happy and her life was perfect....
When they had gone a few steps, someone put duct tape over her mouth and threw a thick, coarse canvas bag over her head. Before she realized what was going on, her hands were tied behind her back.
Evan dropped the rose. Her heartbeat accelerated. She tried to wiggle her way out but she couldn’t move her arms. She couldn’t scream for help. The only thing she could see, through the thin strip of light at the bottom of the bag on her head, was her feet on the tiled floor. The tiles leaned to one side and then disappeared as someone picked her up, carrying her like a slab of beef. Her breathing became heavier. Her thoughts scrambled. She tried to focus, thinking that this, obviously, was a very different sort of surprise from what she had expected. She kicked as hard as she could, but her feet were already in the air and she couldn’t reach anything.
Chapter 2
Three months earlier…
Evan woke up early as usual, visited the bathroom and brushed her hair into a ponytail close to the top of her head. The sun was shining through the pastel pink-colored curtains filling her room with a mellow light like the halo surrounding the fairies in kid’s movies. Her clothes for the day were waiting for her on the chair in front of her desk. The movie stars’ and famous singers’ posters on her walls smiled at her as she quickly jumped into her jeans and T-shirt, picked up her backpack and ran downstairs.
Breakfast was already there, waiting for her on the coffee table among magazines and newspapers. Evan dropped the backpack on the floor, sat on the sofa and switched on the TV. She flipped to the channel with her favorite reporters and adjusted the volume. The local channel had an early morning block for the weather, traffic and the latest hot news between a gazillion commercial breaks. The program followed the usual pattern: the traffic reporter announced that the traffic to and from Boston was bad at that time of the day; there were a few fender-benders both on 93 and the Mass Pike; the meteorologist promised nice weather; and the Red Sox were to play their nemesis, the New York Yankees, at Fenway Park next week. After the laundry detergent, food supplements and next year’s car models commercials, the program shifted in an unexpected direction. Evan saw her father with one of the local reporters in front of the Mort Enterprises logo.
“Dad, you’ve made the news!” Evan shouted to her father. The aroma of hot chocolate and toasted plain bagel with cream cheese was slowly waking her up. Her breakfast was still lying on the table in front of her, untouched.
Evan watched the female reporter and imagined how in just a few years she would be the one standing there with the microphone in front of the camera. She would look much better than that reporter: she had better hair and smiled more.
“What are they saying Evangeline?” her father shouted back from the bathroom between buzzes of the electric shaver. He always used her full name Evangeline and lovingly called her “his messenger of good news” while she preferred to be called Evan and stand out in the crowds. Today he wanted to know the news but had no patience to listen to it. After all, the news was hot and recent, and he was an archeologist interested in much, much older and more complicated things.
“They are saying that you will be leading the expedition to Latin America where the last pearl is expected to be found.” Evan replied, “and, according to the International Journal of Archeology, you have split the opinions of the scientific world with your statements that various ancient civilizations had manufactured precisely the same type of objects without having the appropriate tools or equipment for this.” Evan made herself more comfortable on the sofa and concluded, “The usual.”
“Are they talking about the sponsor? Can you see the Mort Enterprises logo behind me? Mr. Mort wanted his name to be mentioned as much as possible. When preparing my statements, Amanda tried to include it in every sentence.”
“I’m sure they are, honey. Finish what you are doing and come join us for breakfast.” Evan’s mother patted her husband on the shoulder and went into the living room.
“And they are showing both of you -” Evan shouted as her mother entered the room. “Here,
Mom—I can rewind it for you.” Evan tried to keep her parents happy. After all, the day was just starting and she wanted them off her back as soon as possible. In some cultures people her age were having families, and here she was a 17 years old – almost an adult, still living with her parents, suffering from their overprotective parenting style, not being allowed to express herself and her personality in any other way than in the choice of nail polish on her fingers.
“Evangeline, for once, eat your breakfast instead,” her mother noticed the untouched bagel. She then pointed lovingly to Allie. Evan’s younger sister was covered with cream cheese, swallowing the last few bites of her bagel. “See how Allie is taking care of herself?”
Evan didn’t respond. There was no need for her mother to know that she didn’t like that kind of breakfast. It was a conversation that could easily lead to the addition of more strict rules for her to follow. She lifted her feet onto the couch, hugged her knees and pretended to be too focused on the TV to answer. The day was just starting and she wanted them off her back.
“We are confident that the last of the artifacts will be at the location we have selected for the excavation, with the help of Mort Enterprises. Then it will be a matter of time to identify the proper way for using the device with the help of Mort Enterprises. You may ask why we are so confident that the pearls are part of a device. Well, we, with the help of Mort Enterprises, have done extensive research and a comprehensive analysis - ” her father was saying on the TV. His hair was nicely combed, his glasses were clean and his shirt had no wrinkles. She even noticed him trying to smile from time to time.
“What kind of device do you think this is?” the reporter interrupted him.
When I graduate from college and become a famous reporter, I would never cut people off like that. That is rude. If she didn’t like the interview topic, that reporter should have declined instead of doing this to my father, Evan thought.
The rude interruption didn’t bother her father. “These egg-shaped pearls have become a symbol,” his calm voice said from the TV, “of the legendary question: ‘What came first, the chicken or the egg?’ In this day and age, we are asking ourselves another extremely important and legendary question: ‘Did our civilization develop the way we think it did?’ It may not be accidental that we are discovering egg-shaped pearls instead of other artifacts. It is of profound importance that we get to the bottom of this, with the help of Mort—”
“Do you think there are more pearls out there?” The reporter interrupted him again.
“Considering that so far we have found one pearl on each continent,” the professor said, “with the help of Mort Enterprises, the one pearl we are about to discover is expected to be the last one from this marvelous set. Then we’ll be able, with the help of Mort Enterprises—”
“Professor Shtuttgart,” the reporter interrupted yet again. Obviously “the help of Mort Enterprises” was getting on her nerves. “What can you tell our viewers who are suspicious about your theory and think that you are part of an international hoax?”
“I would say that—” the professor started.
“And we are back to the studio with Malory to talk about today’s weather.” The interview ended abruptly and the morning program continued as usual.
“I hate it when they do that!” Evan’s mother sat on the loveseat with a cup of coffee in her hands. “They ask a provocative question suggesting what the answer they want to hear is and don’t let you explain.”
“They cut my last thought, didn’t they?” Her father joined them into the living room.
“Yes, they did. But you worked in ‘with the help of Mort Enterprises’ pretty well,” Evan said, the smell of coffee teasing her. It was almost seven o’clock; she had to keep her parents happy just a little bit longer.
“Why do you want to become a reporter after seeing what they do to the people they interview? Why can’t you study chemistry or history or liberal arts like other people?” Her mother supported but didn’t entirely approve of Evan’s career choice.
Evan focused on the TV. The colorful and noisy commercial was explaining the benefits of a magical weight-loss pill. Evan couldn’t explain to her parents what she liked about the idea of becoming a reporter. It was hard for her to relate the message that she was fascinated by the glamour and the cameras and liked the idea of traveling from event to event and, of course, the being famous part. In her eyes the reporter profession ranked higher than being a Hollywood actress.
“Most likely because of people like that reporter,” Evan’s father said. “We’ve taught our daughter to respect everyone and be polite to people, didn’t we Agatha?”
“Dad, do you really think it’ll be there? How do you know that?” Allie diverted the conversation. She had finished her breakfast, and having to wait 30 more minutes for her school bus made her think that everyone around had the same amount of time to spare.
“Yes, it is there. We are getting the same readings above the ground as we did at the other four locations in Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa.”
Evan rolled her eyes.
Here we go again.
She put a piece of chewing gum in her mouth and pretended she was paying attention to the TV.
Being older than Allie was not an advantage that time. Evan had witnessed all the previous pearl discoveries. She was a little bit younger than Allie was now when their parents had made the first discovery. It had been too tiresome for her to listen to every theory, hypothesis, assumption and speculation her parents had come up with for the last five years. Yes, the last five years.
Originally, Evan had been interested. It was even fun being on an archeological dig. But, as the years passed, the veil of mystery and enigma she thought covered her parent’s work had fallen to the sandy ground. Now, when someone mentioned archeology, digs, excavations, egg-shaped objects and even pearls, she became nauseated. She couldn’t stand the enthusiasm with which her parents talked about all those dirty and dusty endeavors. How could they prefer playing in the dirt instead of working in a well-lit corner office? How could they prefer teaching in a college to being business people like Mr. Mort? He was always nicely dressed. He had bought a Mercedes SLS convertible for his son Kevin. He was so well spoken. Evan started to pity herself for being born into the wrong family. Ever since she could remember, they had had only one car and had lived in the same house at 14 Pebble Drive, in Hamptonville, Massachusetts.
Her father was talking with enthusiasm. “The natives there have been having, for generations, the same strange dreams as the people of the B’Hutungi tribe in Africa and the Australian Maori that lived close to the sites. This is it, girls! This is it! This is the last piece of the biggest archeological discovery in the 21st century, and our family is a big part of it.” His eyes sparkled.
“Honey, you don’t want us to be late for the meeting with Mr. Mort, do you?” Evan’s mother shouted from the bathroom.
That’s right, Mom, it is five minutes past seven. It is time to go. Kevin is coming in ten minutes, Evan thought.
“Oh, it totally slipped my mind. You’re right, Agatha, we have to go.” Now his laid-back, early morning attitude was replaced by a set of frantic movements. Her father darted around the house to look for his glasses, his hat, and his papers.
“The presentation starts at ten.… It’s a long ride,” he mumbled.
“Albert! Your glasses are on your nose, here is your hat and I packed the papers in your briefcase, which is in the foyer,” Agatha said calmly. She was all dressed up and ready to go.
“Good-bye girls!” Evan’s parents shouted back as they left the house.
After the sound of their car disappeared in the distance, Evan picked up her breakfast and went into the kitchen. She threw the bagel and the hot chocolate into the garbage disposal and turned it on. The unpleasant grinding sound echoed through the empty kitchen. It sounded like a monster with a sore throat trying to scare her. No wonder her mother was insisting on replacing
it. Evan smiled and looked victoriously at the kitchen drain as the disposal chewed and swallowed her breakfast. Then she made herself a coffee to go.
“Oh, sis, life is so good this morning. I’ll have my coffee just the way I like it,” Evan prepared her very own grown-up drink with three packages of artificial sweetener and a spoonful of non-dairy creamer. “Then Kevin will come to drive me to school and my perfect day will start.”
Her thoughts went in the direction of her perfect life. After her eighteenth birthday in a few months, she was going to follow her own rules. In her mind, Evan saw herself leaving her parents and that house and her sister, and moving in with Kevin Mort. Oh, Evan was so dazzled by Kevin that she couldn’t think of anything else.
He is not like the other boys at the school. Is he smarter?
She wasn’t sure, but she thought that someone that gorgeous couldn’t be dumb.
Is he more handsome?
Oh, yes, but that was still not quite how to explain what was different about him.
Is he more … refined?
Yes. Yes. Kevin Mort was more refined and sophisticated than his competitors when it came to Evangeline Shtuttgart’s taste. She preferred his polished manners and compliments and stylish gifts to any of the shy and almost stuttering exchanges she shared with the rest of her classmates.
Yes, Kevin Mort is a gentleman, a real Prince Charming.
“Here he is,” Allie’s voice interrupted Evan’s daydreaming. “Kevin’s here!”
The special horn of Kevin’s car filled in the quiet morning. “Don’t forget that Mom asked you to vacuum and dust the house after school,” Allie said with her face stuck to the bay window.
“Whatever, sis! My life is perfect!” Evan stressed every syllable while still chewing her gum. Not wanting to spoil her morning with conversations or even thoughts about house chores or her part-time job at the supermarket, she left with a coffee mug in her hand and a half-zipped backpack on her shoulder. Her pony tail bounced as she walked.