Why I Loathe Sterling Lane

by Ingrid Paulson

  Reason 7:

  He can’t just stop at being bad.

  No, he’s determined to corrupt

  everyone else, too.

  When Kendall left, I sat back and surveyed my room. As she’d unpacked, a tornado of fabric had whirled through the room. So I was surprised that when she finished, her half of the room was tidy and organized. Throw pillows adorned her bed, and she’d taped up an interesting collage of postcards from around the world. Kendall had an eye for colors and textures that hinted at artistic proclivities. All her other faults aside, that talent was something worth pausing to appreciate.

  And now that the room was silent again, I did just that, peeking in her closet at the way her clothes were sorted into a spectrum of colors. The Rules nodded appreciatively over that. The few decorative flourishes she’d added—the lamp, the antique clock—exponentially increased the attractiveness of the room.

  I texted my dad a hasty thank-you for the money, confirming it was received. My alarm chimed, reminding me it was time to switch to calculus, even though I hadn’t even put a dent in my history reading. It wasn’t like me to wander so far astray. The pressure behind my eyes started to build, so I sat down and revised my study schedule to reflect the seventy-five minutes that had just slipped between my fingers.

  Halfway through my problem set, Parker’s words drifted back to me: “team meeting.” The fact that it was Sterling’s idea made my stomach sink with dread. Sterling wasn’t the type of guy who was proactive about anything other than trouble. And as captain, Cole would be front and center at any team meeting—as well as responsible if anything went awry.

  It was already getting dark, and the schedule taped to my desk clearly stated that I should be outlining the next day’s history lecture. Still, I set down my pencil and calculated that as long as I postponed my independent study work until tomorrow and canceled all bathroom breaks until morning, I could carve out a twenty-minute recess. After all, Cole was on the line.

  I pulled on my sweatshirt and ventured out into the night. The gym was nearly a quarter of a mile away, across campus, so I’d have to run both ways in order to keep this mission within its allotted time frame.

  When I rounded the side of the gym, I could hear it—the raucous noise of boys cheering the way they do when they’re trying to humiliate someone into doing something they don’t want to. I approached cautiously, careful not to be seen. The door to the locker room was propped open with a dirty tennis shoe, which meant I’d be fully visible to anyone standing right inside.

  I rounded the corner and dashed behind the bushes lining the sidewalk just in time. Sterling Lane’s voice floated out of the darkness, followed by the devil himself heading toward the gym. A huge water jug dangled from one hand. But as he moved closer, I got a look at the label. It was a plastic bottle of vodka.

  When he reached the door to the locker room, he paused, listening to the tumult inside like it was Mozart before sauntering inside. The boys who had been lingering in the hallway followed.

  The shouting inside doubled in intensity ten seconds after Sterling entered.

  I shifted closer, hoping I’d be able to overhear what they were doing, but the shouts were distorted, overlapping nonsense by the time they echoed outside to me. From what I could see from the safety of the hedge, most of the noise was coming from behind a bank of lockers. A few stragglers were loitering to the side, leaning against the painted cinder-block wall with a full view of the outside. One of the boys turned and looked straight at me long enough that I was certain I’d been seen, but then he leaned back against the wall, laughing at something that happened out of my line of sight.

  It was a close call, but I still didn’t pause before I acted. If I had, I probably would have lost my nerve. Sneaking into the boys’ locker room was heinously against the school rules. But I had to know if Cole was there—and rescue him if so. He’d be suspended or even expelled if he was caught drinking on campus. His academic record would be ruined, his scholarships would evaporate, and so might his hopes of playing professional lacrosse.

  I dashed forward in bursts—around the bushes, across the sidewalk, and in through the door. Something slammed into my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. I caught the recycling bin I’d crashed into moments before it would have hit the ground.

  Fortunately, the clamor in the other room was so loud no one seemed to hear the collision.

  Once inside and safely hidden, I took a moment to catch my breath and instantly regretted it. The air tasted like mold and sweat.

  I pressed my back against the wall and inched along, peeking around the corner before slipping into the next aisle. And then the next. It was slow going, but I drew closer to the far end of the locker room, where the team had congregated just outside the shower stalls.

  I’d taken less than half a step forward when I heard voices behind me—voices that were approaching fast. There was nowhere for me to go. No place to hide. If I ducked down one of the aisles, I’d still be in plain view of any passersby.

  My heart hammered in my chest as the voices drew nearer still. I chanced a quick peek around the corner. Two boys were pausing to read the game schedule posted on the bulletin board. There was no escape. But just as I resigned myself to my fate, my eyes landed on the darkened window cut into the wall beside me. Next to it was a door. It had to be the coach’s office.

  I grabbed the handle, my hand shaking so hard I could barely turn it. And just in time, it gave way under my weight. I shut the door softly behind myself, slipped to the floor, crawled into the corner, and then pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. The shadows of two sets of feet walked past the bottom of the door.

  I crept to the window to peek outside and confirm the coast was clear. Voices headed my way again, this time coming from the direction of Sterling’s little party.

  “It’s in Coach’s office,” the deep voice shouted. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Shit.” The word slipped out, even though I never swear.

  I looked around. The room was small and cramped, with a tiny desk littered with food wrappers and used tissues pressed against the wall. A narrow bookshelf sagged under the weight of garish copper trophies. I wedged myself under the desk, behind the chair, just as the door flew open.

  The lights flickered on.

  Parker reached one long arm out and grabbed one of the trophies off the shelves and shifted like he’d race right out of there. He was chuckling to himself, like he was plotting something. And as he turned back toward the door, his eyes were still glued to the silly shiny man perched on the wooden base. A little sigh of relief escaped me as he reached for the light switch to flick it off.

  He looked back at once, and his eyes met mine.

  “What the hell?” he murmured.

  I pressed one finger against my lips. My eyes begged him to obey.

  “What’s taking so long?” another voice asked. Someone else was outside, standing at Parker’s shoulder. My heart thudded so fast the individual beats blended into a steady hum.

  “I’m coming,” Parker said, barring the new arrival from the door. He jostled him away, cast one more look over his shoulder at me, and turned off the light.

  If it were anyone else, they would have turned me in, but Parker had been friendly ever since I’d tutored him. Perhaps cultivating relationships with other people wasn’t always a complete waste of time.

  I was just getting up the courage to check if the coast was clear when the door opened. Parker slipped inside, towing someone else behind him.

  “What?” Cole asked. “What’s the emergency?”

  Parker didn’t reply. He just pointed at me.

  “Harper?” Cole’s eyes widened, then he looked back at Parker. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I have no idea,” Parker said. “But I thought you’d want to know. So you can get her out of here.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I told Parker. “Unlike some people.” />
  “Have you completely lost your mind?” Cole asked. “I know you pretend that you don’t care what anyone thinks, but seriously, you’ll never live this down if they catch you in here. Plus, this must be against some sort of school rule. I’m surprised your head didn’t explode or something.”

  His face was unusually flushed. Then the smell hit me. Cole had been drinking.

  “Yes,” I said, pushing myself up to my feet. “It’s against three different school rules. But that doesn’t matter—drinking is against a whole lot more, and it’s against the law. We’re getting out of here before you get yourself suspended—or worse.”

  Cole shifted on his feet. I was losing him, so I redoubled my efforts. “You’re not like this. You don’t drink because it could interfere with sports. If this is about that other pressure you’re under—well, I’m finding a way out of that. Some of it, anyway.” Cole’s eyes widened, like I’d betrayed him by even mentioning it. “Come with me. Now. I’ll fix everything. Pinkie promise.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed. He squeezed mine back. The twin connection sparked between us. I could feel it—I had him.

  There was a flash of guilt in Cole’s eyes when he looked at me. Then he looked away, his jaw set. “I was thinking about what you said earlier,” he said, pulling his hand free. “And it wasn’t okay. All you do is judge and categorize people. You have some box in your mind labeled ‘Cole,’ and you expect me to fit in it forever. But people change.”

  “People don’t change,” I pleaded. “Not like this. Not so suddenly.”

  “It’s not sudden.” Cole’s voice hardened. “You just ignore things that don’t fit your worldview. Or you throw my mistakes back in my face when I least expect it. Like earlier.”

  “This is Sterling’s influence,” I said, my voice growing shrill. “He’s corrupting you. Stealing you from me.”

  “No,” Cole said quietly. “You don’t understand.”

  “But I do,” I said, glancing at Parker. I had to say enough to convince Cole while being vague enough to confuse Parker. “You’re under too much pressure. I get that. But the guys pressuring you into drinking are also the ones who pressured you into that. And look where it landed you. You need to start thinking for yourself or you’ll end up getting into worse trouble. Or expelled.” The thought of being at Sablebrook without Cole slammed into me like a right hook. I couldn’t let him get caught. I’d die if we were separated. Die if Cole’s entire future was jeopardized over a night of underage drinking and some stupid weight room equipment. “Please. Just come with me before anything else happens.”

  Cole’s lips pressed together in a thin line. His jaw was clenched so tight that my own muscles tensed in sympathy. It was an expression I hadn’t seen since we were kids fighting over Legos or the last piece of birthday cake.

  “Maybe I’m just an idiot,” Cole replied. “For telling you. For thinking you’d actually be there for me like a normal sister. Instead you’re using my screwup as a weapon. You’re not trying to help me—you’re trying to control me. I could write a book about all the things you don’t know about me. And you don’t even care. You just want me to keep pretending I’m your perfect brother—like we’re a pair of fucking bookends. But I’m not, Harper. I’m not perfect like you.”

  My lungs went rigid with shock; they could no longer effectively suck in air. That was what Cole thought? All this time, Cole had been feeling that horrible, competitive pressure, too? Living with another child the exact same age invariably drew comparisons. That was the one thing we always promised we’d never let come between us.

  “Cole,” I said, desperate to keep him there, talking to me. “I didn’t mean that—you’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake.”

  “And you followed me into the locker room to rub my nose in it,” he replied. “Because attacking me in my room wasn’t enough. Well, rest assured I went right out and did something even worse.”

  I winced at those words. I’d been joking earlier about the bank robberies, but knowing Cole’s stubborn streak, anything was possible. “What—what did you do?”

  He just shook his head. “I love you. You know I do. But you need to let me handle things my way and let me be myself.”

  Then Cole turned and walked away while I stood there with a visibly uncomfortable Parker. I was pretty sure my heart and all other major organs had ceased to function. Cole’s words had crawled under my skin and sliced them all to ribbons.

  “That didn’t go at all like I planned,” I said, slumping against the wall.

  “It never does,” Parker murmured. He lifted his hand, and for a moment I thought he’d touch my arm. But he didn’t. Instead, he let his hand drop back to his side, shoved it into his pocket, and shrugged. “Cole has been stressed out lately. Probably just worried about our game. He snapped at Coach earlier, too.” He ran his other hand through his hair. “Look, I’m gonna go back outside, and I’ll make sure no one comes this direction so you can get out. Okay?”

  I looked at him, amazed that he actually thought I’d leave my vulnerable and distressed brother in this den of vipers.

  “Okay?” he repeated.

  I nodded to get rid of him, and Parker slipped out the door of the office, casting one last look over his shoulder and shaking his head.

  Per Rule 63, I avoid humiliation at all costs, particularly at the hands of my peers, but Rule 9 insisted I couldn’t give up. It didn’t matter if the whole lacrosse team found out I’d sneaked into the boys’ locker room. I wasn’t leaving Cole in a situation that could get him thrown out of school. Still, it was with more than a little trepidation that I crawled to the window again and peeked through the blinds. The coast was clear. The hinges creaked as I eased the door open, but the crowd of boys down the hallway drowned it.

  I slipped back into the hallway. Whatever those boys were doing, it was getting louder by the second. When I reached the partition of lockers, I stepped on the bench and tried to pull myself up to the top, balancing one foot on the metal shelf dividing an open locker in half.

  Someone grabbed my arm. I was too terrified to scream. When I turned around, Parker was standing there.

  “What are you doing?” He hissed, “You were supposed to leave.”

  “No,” I whispered back. “Not without Cole.”

  Parker looked at me. Then he shook his head again. “You’re not going to win this fight. At least not tonight.”

  I turned away and put my foot back on the shelf, trying to scamper up to get a better view of where Cole had gone.

  “Here,” Parker whispered, putting his hands on my waist. It distracted me, the way his massive palms made me feel so tiny and oddly safe. Was this what drew girls like Kendall in—some sort of need to feel protected?

  Parker lifted me up like I was made of air until I could shift my weight onto the locker shelf. And then he stood there, propping me up as I peered over the bank of lockers at the heads of the boys below.

  Six inches below me, on the other side of the row of lockers, Sterling Lane was presiding over the lacrosse team, lounging in a leather desk chair that I recognized from the headmaster’s office. There were two sawhorses in the middle of the room with a piece of plywood resting on top. A makeshift table.

  And on the table were six shot glasses and a now half-empty jug of vodka. As I watched, Sterling lifted the first shot glass and emptied it into his mouth without even wincing. Like it was a refreshing sip of water. Even though I’d never touched alcohol, anyone with a rudimentary grasp of chemistry would know it should burn. I slid my cell phone out of my pocket and snapped a photo as he slammed the shot glass back down on the table.

  Then he pointed at someone in the herd of shifting boys.

  Cole took an uneasy step forward. I closed my eyes, hoping he’d slipped back to normal, back to the brother who could transcend peer pressure. Instead, he took another step. A hand reached out and clapped him on the back. Cole had always been so focused on excelling at sports that drinking and drugs we
re never on the table. My heart lurched when his fingers curled around a shot glass and he lifted it to his lips and downed the liquid. Had Cole changed abruptly or had I just been blind for too long—not seeing my brother for who he really was and making him feel judged when he tried to show me? While I wished he wasn’t doing this, it didn’t change how I felt about him one iota. Even when he smiled victoriously at the rest of the team and reached for the next glass in a line of six.

  Parker was right: there was no way Cole was going anywhere with me. But that didn’t mean I’d given up on him.

  My stomach twisted into a tessellation as I inched my way down from the side of the locker. My foot slipped, and I would have definitely cracked my skull open if Parker hadn’t been there to catch me.

  “Satisfied?” he asked in a low whisper.

  I shook my head, digging my nails into my palm to keep back the tears I could feel struggling to escape. Parker didn’t follow me when I turned and ran from the room.

  Reason 8:

  He’s a total sociopath.

  He threatened me.

  Midnight found me lying awake, staring at the ceiling. And not just because Kendall snored. Cole had never pulled away from me like that, even when I’d done something to deserve it.

  It would be so much easier if I could blame Sterling for driving a wedge between us, or Cole for misunderstanding my intentions. But my conscience wouldn’t let me. I never expected Cole to be perfect, to be my matching bookend. I wanted him to just be himself, and to trust me as much as I trusted him.

  And I’d failed, utterly and completely.

  After an hour turning in circles, I made up my mind: I’d go to the headmaster. Sure, Rule 54 forbade tattling and similar immature behaviors, but that Rule should yield right of way in the face of a direct danger to Cole. After all, looking out for Cole was Rule 1, the most fundamental Rule of my existence. I’d always been able to live within the confines of all 537 Rules, without exception, but desperate times called for desperate measures.