Hendricks Gay - The broken rules of Ten: Tenzing Norbus first mystery

Praise for The Broken Rules of Ten

If you like adventure and mystery flavored with spiritual wisdom, youll like the new book in the Tenzing Norbu series! Its a prequel set in the monastery when Ten was just turning thirteen. Through his struggles to understand women, sex, and the complications of relationships, you get to see the formative events that made Ten the detective he became. Enjoy!

John Gray, Ph.D., author of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus

Adventure, enlightenment, and loveall taking place in a hidden monastery in the foothills of the Himalayas! If you like mindful mysteriesthe kind where spiritual wisdom and adventure are woven togetherthis one is for you.

Marci Shimoff, author of New York Times best-sellers Happy for No Reason and Love for No Reason

Tenzing Norbu is one of the most original sleuths to come along in the last few years, but the authors have outdone themselves this time! A detective whos an exTibetan monk is juicy enough, but a mystery about a pubescent lama grappling all at once with hormones, his controlling dad, crime, betrayal, and not just girls, but Womennot to mention the Dharmais just so yummy youll want to eat it. Download and devour.

Julie Smith, Edgar-winning author of the Skip Langdon series

Ten at 13 is just as fascinating and likeable as he is in adulthoodand the mystery he solves here is touchingly close to home. Exciting, enlightening and loads of fun, The Broken Rules of Ten is not to be missed.

Alison Gaylin, Edgar nominee and best-selling author of the Brenna Spector detective series

The Broken Rules of Ten is a 10! I read it in one sitting and loved every page. What an original, engaging and intriguing story!

Arielle Ford, author of Wabi Sabi Love

The Broken Rules of Ten

Also by Gay Hendricks and Tinker Lindsay

The First Rule of Ten

The Second Rule of Ten

All of the above are available at your local bookstore, or may be ordered by visiting:

Hay House USA: www.hayhouse.com
Hay House Australia: www.hayhouse.com.au
Hay House UK: www.hayhouse.co.uk
Hay House South Africa: www.hayhouse.co.za
Hay House India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Copyright 2013 by Gay Hendricks and Tinker Lindsay

Published and distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au Published and distributed in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk Published and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA (Pty), Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.za Distributed in Canada by: Raincoast: www.raincoast.com Published in India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Cover design: Charles McStravick

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private useother than for fair use as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviewswithout prior written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or deceased, is strictly coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-4019-4306-6

Somewhere Between Delhi and Paris
April 27, 1994

I press my nose against the icy glass. The plane has penetrated a thick bank of clouds. Theres nothing to see. Nothing.

India and a beautiful girl called Pema lie far behind me. France is still a long way ahead. I have no idea where I am right now.

How perfect is that.

Because of me, one boy is dead, another has vanished into thin air, and Dharamshala is in flames. No wonder theyre shipping me back to my mother a month early. Ive been suspended from the monastery, maybe permanently. I should be relieved, but mostly I just feel empty. Cut off, like the view outside.

Yeshe thinks if I chant the Confession Sutra enough times things will turn out fine. Please, Tenzing, he begged as I left. Just do it. It will clear everything away. Im not so sure, but I guess its worth a try.

I lean back in my seat. The steady hum of the engine is oddly soothing. I close my eyes...

Five Days Earlier

Dorje Yidam Monastery, Dharamshala, India

A girl dances with abandon... her arms and hands a blur... her legs gracefully extending... light streaming from her fingers and toes. I am being drawn into the dance but I dont know how and Im not sure I should and... oh!

My eyes popped open and in my first moment of awakening I felt a wave of shame mingled with the welcome release.

Its happened again. The third time this month. Im running out of hiding places.

My mind switched over to English. The ancient sage Vasubhandu may have given Tibetan Buddhists detailed definitions for the 51 different mind states, but he somehow forgot to include anything close to what I was feeling right now. I happen to know this, because I am in the process of memorizing all 51 for Lama Gamdens introductory class on Root Texts. Ask Lama Gamden about the difference between resolution and aspiration, or subtle discernment as it relates to intention, or clear-minded tranquility, and hell talk for hours, his thick black eyebrows rising and falling with each emphatic statement.

Ask him about hot-faced shame? I dont think so.

The room was black as pitch, the night air thick and heavy. I could just make out Lobsangs comforting form curled up on a thin mattress right next to mine. Fourteen other pallets just like it, filled with fourteen other sleeping boys, lay in two neat rows along the wooden dormitory floor. The soft ruffle of Lobsangs out-breath sounded funny, like dry pages turned by a stiff wind. I tried to make out my other best friend, Yeshe, but he was too far away. He got moved last week to the other end of our sleeping quarters, no explanation given. Someone must have heard us whispering. Told on us. We came back from debating to find his bed dragged to the opposite wall, making it tricky if I need him to cover for me again.

I guess thats the point.

I pulled the bunched fabric of my shemdap away from my thighs and felt around with my hand to determine the extent of the damage.

Why does this keep happening to me?

A sharp ache twisted in the center of my chest, right under the breastbone, as if an actual fist was squeezing all the blood out of my heart. Palden Lhamo, Protectress who performs all pacifying deeds, pacify my illnesses, hindrances, and ghosts.

I checked in on my breath.

What breath?

And now the other thing started, the nameless cramping, not in my muscles exactly, but more in between them, if that even makes sense. I bit down on the inside of my cheeks until the sensation passed.

Maybe Im dying. Actually dying.

Well, so what if I am? Death wouldnt be so bad. Better than this sticky mess I keep finding myself in.

My breath eased a little. Funny how that workssometimes thinking about the worst thing that could happen actually makes me feel better. So I kept going: If I were to die, before I even made it to 13, how would they both feel? My mother, back in Paris, would be heartbroken, of course. Especially if she was sober. But she wouldnt be able to resist temptation for long. Soon my death would be just another excuse for her to swallow more pills, guzzle more wine. Im so bummed about this, shed say, in a sloppy drawl. Would Valerie, as she insists I call her, feel even the smallest speck of guilt that she forced me to join my Tibetan father in his Dharamshala monastery months ahead of schedule this year, so she and her new husband could drink and argue in peace? Missing Christmas. Missing the school play. Missing the human sexuality class that might have warned me about stains on my