Rules for Life by Darlene Ryan

don’t know what it was that woke me. Suddenly I was sitting upright in bed as if someone had pushed me from behind, not really awake, wrapped in tangled sheets like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
    I listened. And heard something. What? It was a partly stifled moan, low and full of pain. My body froze for a moment; then I was moving, spastic, mostly falling onto the floor with my legs trapped in the twisted covers.
    Anne was on her knees in the hall, outside the bathroom door. One hand was braced against the wall, one hand clutched her big belly. The back of her nightgown was soaked and bloody, the wet fabric plastered to the back of her legs. I knew almost nothing about having a baby, but I knew it was too soon to have this one.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I asked, squatting on the floor beside her.
    Her face was blotched and sweaty. “I think … the baby’s coming,” she gasped.
    â€œWhere’s Dad?”
    â€œOut … for the show.”
    No. No. No. I couldn’t scream out loud. I squeezed my hands into tight fists. “Out where?”
    â€œSpringfield, I think. To look at … barn board.”
    Springfield, which was two-and-a-half hours upriver— three if you went on the back roads, which was what Dad had probably done because he was looking for wood from an old barn to make some stupid reproduction cupboard to nail up on a kitchen wall for a “rustic” look instead of being home with Anne and the baby and this whole new family that was supposed to be so hotshot freakin’ important that he threw away his old family, and I knew he would do this. I knew it.
    All at once Anne’s face twisted with pain. She grabbed my arm to steady herself. I dropped down on one knee to keep both of us from going over and put my free arm around her shoulders. Her skin was hot and slick with sweat.
    I felt as though an icy hand had pushed through my chest and grabbed my insides, sort of like the creature from those old Alien movies , only in reverse. Anne slumped against me, breathing hard. If there was a rule for this, I didn’t know what it was. The only thing I knew was I had to get help.
    â€œI’ll be right back. I swear,” I said to Anne. “Just … just sit.” I helped her onto the floor and then ran down the hall to Dad and Anne’s room. The cordless phone was on the nightstand by Anne’s side of the bed. I punched in 911. It rang twice.
    â€œ9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?” asked the voice on the other end.
    â€œMy … ” I hesitated. What did I call Anne? “My… stepmother. She’s pregnant. I think she’s in labor. There’s blood. But it’s way too soon. The baby’s not supposed to be born for almost three more months.”
    â€œI’m sending an ambulance,” the woman said. “Stay on the line. What is your address?”
    I gave it to her. “It’s the big green house at the top of the street.”
    â€œThey’re on their way.”
    I swallowed down the sour taste in the back of my throat. “Thank you,” I said. There was an old elastic band on the nightstand. It had probably been around yesterday’s morning paper. I jammed the phone between my cheek and shoulder and pulled my hair into a ponytail.
    â€œIt’ll be all right,” the woman said. “Now, don’t hang up.”
    â€œI’m not hanging up.” I pulled the quilt off the bed and dragged it down the hall, clutching the phone with my other hand. Anne was sitting with her back to the wall, eyes closed and her legs splayed out in front of her.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked. “I’m Beth.”
    â€œIsabelle.” I spread the quilt over Anne and tucked the ends in behind her. “The ambulance is coming,” I whispered.
    â€œHow old are you, Isabelle?” Beth asked.
    â€œSixteen.”
    â€œDoes