Rules

Chapter 1: Rules

“It’s not fair!” yelled Boudicca, storming into the house, slamming the rickety door.  Her red hair flared behind her like fire.  “A new rule was put into place!  Now it’s no cargo shorts.  Whatever next?  No fruit?  How can cargo shorts be dangerous?  Huh?”

“Now, Boudicca, honey.  You know these rules are put into place for our own safety.  What can we do?”  replied her mother gently.

❂

All this trouble had started when Afghanistan declared war on the US.  Nuclear war.  So far, it had just been a stare-down, but the people were in a state of extreme panic.  Some frantic people had taken it upon themselves to “protect humanity” but it Boudicca thought it was making it far worse.  Examples of rules the Leaders (so they were called) had set:

• No dogs (they could be a hazard)
• No beef burgers (for no apparent reason)
• No red cars (could stand out as bomber targets)

and the most recent one:

• No cargo shorts (they could be used to smuggle goods)

Boudicca hated them.  Hated the rules themselves, the people who made them and the machine guns on North Hill that enforced them.  Just thinking that from now on she would have to wear jeans, or even skirts!  If there was one thing Boudicca hated it was pink.  Dresses came in a close second.  Pink dresses - heaven forbid!
“I’ll...be back in an hour,” sulked Boudicca, running out the door.  Running.  Running came naturally to her.  She felt like she was flying.  Long, wavy red hair streaming after her.  She was named after the red-haired Celtic queen, Boudicca.  Her mother had said a long time ago, before the Leader’s order that the books be burned,  she had read about Boudicca in a history textbook.  And when her baby was born with striking red hair, the name came back to her and that’s what she called her.

All these thoughts flashed through Boudicca’s mind like an arrow.  She jumped to a stop at the edge of the forest.  He should be around here somewhere. . . she thought.
“Ayden! Ayden!” she called.  And then out from a thornberry bush he came.  Blond hair, wire glasses, rosy cheeks, notebook, and pencil.  “Ayden! What took you?” she cried.
“So sorry, friend, I was studying a new species of-” Ayden seemed to be trying out a new accent.  To Boudicca, who was not an avid linguist, it sounded like an english accent, but she couldn’t be sure. Boudicca cut him off.  

“Shut up about your research, will you?” She sighed.  “Where’s Isaac?”

“Ah, the noble Isaac Newton,” Ayden smiled.  “The turtle be in thy habitat.” Boudicca rolled her eyes.
“You mean his cage” she said disgustedly.
“Aye, good sir, if I do say so myself, or to quote-” he said, imperiously, still in his annoying accent.

“Stop!” yelled Boudicca. “I am sick and tired of you and your hidden stash of-”

“Shh! Not so loud! They might hear us!”

“Oh...right.  Sorry, Ayden.”  Boudicca had forgotten that books were illegal.  Way up north, a mile or so, in an old barn someone had abandoned once personal livestock was banned, Ayden had a pile of books in the loft.  Science.  Math. The classics.  A library’s worth of books were up there.  Ayden just had to be sure no one found them.  Boudicca loved hiding things.  It gave her a rebel feeling.  

The biggest hazard: Ayden’s secret turtle, Sir Isaac Newton, or just Isaac.  Turtles were one of the first things that were banned, claimed to be able to spread E. coli.   Isaac was hidden in a glass tank in an old shed.  However, Ayden was getting worried.  Isaac was getting big.  Soon he would need another place to live.

“Hey, Boudicca? Boudicca?” Boudicca woke up with a start.  She realized she had been lost in thought.  
“What?”
“I need to get up to the barn.  I want to get my Encyclopedia of Natural Occurrences in the Outdoors by Dacia Smith, who was in fact the first woman to venture into the Amazon river, and her discoveries led to...” He stopped when he noticed she wasn’t listening.
“Ok,”  said Boudicca. “I’ll go with you.”  Running up North Hill, dodging bushes, jumping logs and streams, and smelling smoke. . . smoke?  Boudicca looked up.  A panel of bright red, orange and yellow met her.  Heat blasted her.

Ayden’s books were on fire.

Author's Note

The punctuation might not be perfect.

Reviews

[Nikki Richardson]

I absolutely love your wording/phrasing. You put sentences together beautifully, and I didn't see too much wrong with your punctuation. I wish I could write that well when I was in 7th/8th grade. The descriptions are brilliant too.