RULE OF NINES
Prologue
It wasn’t a house yet. It was still just a construction site, filled with skeletons of what might have become houses if it weren’t for him. The wooden beams, kiln dried to be free of moisture, would light like tinder. He knew this. It excited him.
Eager to get started, he poured gasoline from the jerry can onto the pile of two-by-fours he’d carefully arranged in the center of the structure. He laid the empty can on top of the pile, liking the way it almost looked like a crown.
His heart pounded.
He looked up at the stars. “This is it,” he said to the sky, excitement washing over him like a hit of heroin in his veins.
He pulled out his Zippo and flicked it open. He took a breath to prepare, another, then flicked the lighter’s cog with a snap of his fingers. The tiny flame danced in front of his eyes. It dipped in deference. It was beautiful and ready.
There was no stopping now. Not that he would have stopped. He’d been planning this his whole life.
Adrenaline rushed into his muscles, preparing his legs to take him away and up the hill to where he could watch his creation. With only a millisecond’s hesitation, he threw the lighter onto the gas-soaked pile and ran.
He heard the whoosh behind him, but didn’t stop to watch the birth. This was his only regret. But he needed to get away quickly.
When he got to the top of the hill, he turned, keeping his eyes squeezed shut until he was ready. Then, as the light from it filtered through his eyelids, he smiled.
After another breath, he opened his eyes slowly, ready to revel in what he had created.
He was not disappointed. A little squeal of joy escaped his lips.
The fire was catching, just as he hoped it would. And it was growing, becoming stronger as it devoured more wood.
Quickly, he dug the video camera out of his pocket and began recording.
“Watch it,” he said to the camera. “Look at what I have done. Isn’t it beautiful? It’s hell. A beautiful hell. And it’s all mine. Watch it burn. Watch it burn. Look at the dance. Watch it burn.”
Ignoring the erection straining against his pants, he kept his attention on the scene in front of him. He didn’t want to miss a second of it. He drank it in with his eyes. Felt it envelop him. Loved it. Loved the dance. His heart ached at its beauty.
“Watch it burn,” he repeated. “Beautiful burn. Watch it burn.”
His own creation.
His own hell.
Sydney
We used to be good girls. Striving for academic excellence, listening to our parents, abstaining from any behavior which might be considered risky. Our lives were mostly defined by what we didn’t do. No drugs, no drinking, no boys.
Although the no boys thing wasn’t really a conscious decision as much as a product of who we were. Which was a couple of nobodies.
Katy Everson, my best friend, and I were a clique of two at Somerset High. No one took notice of us and for the most part, we were okay with that. We were content whiling away our respective high school careers, recognizing they were a means to an end: getting into the right college. Once at the aforementioned right college, Katy would pursue a degree in mathematics, me in English. We would both continue to be academics and would become teachers, taking time off for maternity leaves after finding our respective husbands while away at college. We had it all planned out.
Planning was our M.O. And it had served us well. Until that one day in March.
We were hanging out at my place, as we often did after school. Katy was lying on my bed, studying for her physics mid-term while I cleaned out my inbox, reading through a bunch of my word-of-the-day messages and deleting the assorted spam that got through my filters.
Spam and word-of-the-day. That’s what I had to look forward to on a daily basis.
That was the precise moment I realized just how lame my existence was.
Lame. Capital L for emphasis.
“Katy?”
She finished writing before looking up. “What?”
“We need to start living.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Us. We’re boring. We need to start doing stuff.”
“Stuff like what?”
“Fun stuff. Crazy stuff. Not normal stuff. I’m tired of being normal.”
Katy rolled her eyes and returned to her studying.
“I’m serious, Katy. We need to start living. I’m sick of being boring and studying all the time.”
“You want to get into a good college?” she asked, ever the pragmatist.
“Yeah.”
“Well then you need to keep up your G.P.A.”
I rolled my chair over towards the bed. “I’m serious.”
She sighed. “Are you talking about shoplifting for thrills?”
“No, nothing illegal like that, just fun, spontaneous stuff.”
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well if you can’t come up with fun stuff to do, maybe you’re not meant to do fun stuff.”
“You suck.”
“You suck.”
I grabbed my pillow off my bed and hit her with it.
“Fuck off.”
“You fuck off. But Katy, I’m serious.”
With a sigh, she slapped her book closed.
“Fine, Syd. What are you talking about?”
Finally, I had her full attention. “I am talking about doing cool, spontaneous stuff.”
“Like what?” she asked again.
I still didn’t have an answer. I looked around my room until my eyes landed on my computer screen. My e-mail was open to a word-of-the-day.
“That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“The word-of-the-day!”
“Oh my God,
“We will do something based on the word-of-the-day. That means we’ll do something totally spontaneous every day.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Exactly, that’s what I’m going for!”
“What’s today’s word?”
I looked back at the screen. “Hebetude.”
“Which means?”
“Uh, lethargy or dullness.”
“Wow, that sounds incredibly spontaneous, fun and exciting.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, well we won’t start today since the day’s mostly over anyway. But tomorrow we’ll start. These things are in my inbox before I get up so I’ll check, text it to you and then we’ll do whatever it is.”
Katy looked at me sideways. “This is lame.”
I grinned at my best friend “No, it won’t be. I promise. I’m already super excited.”
“Yeah, I’m thrilled,” Katy said, cracking her physics book open again. “I can hardly wait.”
“I’m not gonna let you drag me down. This is going to be cool,” I said, already anxious for the next word-of-the-day e-mail to hit my inbox.
I had a feeling it was going to be killer.