Why I Loathe Sterling Lane

by Ingrid Paulson

  She did, and the pity in her eyes made me want to hurl my highlighter at her face. But a little part of me knew I deserved her pity. Being alone wasn’t bad if it was intermittent, but my stretch of solitude was borderline monastic. “If you’re really this upset, you could always patch things up with Parker.”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “He’s playing this weird limbo game that I’m honestly getting sick of. I’m giving him an ultimatum.”

  “I’m guessing Parker won’t be happy if he hears about this little date with Sterling.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “So you were using Sterling? That’s why you met him in front of the entire school and walked off together, dressed to kill? Parker probably saw the whole thing.”

  “Well, that makes it seem so cold,” she muttered. “I gave Sterling a chance—I was open to the possibility. But it did occur to me that if Parker got jealous, maybe he’d stop taking me for granted.” She threw herself across her bed and kicked off her shoes, narrowly missing my head with one of them.

  “Watch it,” I said. My head hurt trying to untangle this angst-ridden scheming. Even though he probably deserved it, I was bothered by this game she was playing—toying with Sterling’s feelings. Maybe because I’d been on the receiving end of it so many times, tormented by these social games I never seemed able to grasp. But Sterling wouldn’t have that problem. He could more than take care of himself.

  “You’re so confusing,” she said, sitting up. “I mean, one second you’re nice and we’re having a perfectly normal conversation, then suddenly you snarl at me. And I don’t mean that in a good way, like what Sterling said about you.”

  It felt like my skin sprouted an entirely new layer of nerve endings. Every inch of me was tingling to hear what she would say next. I gave her two seconds to elaborate before I snapped.

  “What did he say about me?” I demanded. “And why would you think I cared?”

  Kendall’s eyes opened wide. Really wide. Her eyelashes splayed out like butterfly wings. “Oh,” she said. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

  “Tell me what he said,” I growled. “Even though I don’t care.”

  “I don’t think I should.” She bit her lower lip and smiled at me strangely, almost the same way she smiled at cute boys. “You’re getting awfully upset about it. You have such a crush on him.”

  “What a disturbing accusation.” But that just made her grin stretch from ear to ear.

  “I think he kinda likes you, too.”

  “That would be even more disturbing,” I said, even though the shiver that ran down my spine was hardly one of revulsion. “He’s a sociopath. I certainly don’t want his attention directed at me.”

  “He said something sweet about you tonight.” Kendall was bouncing on her bed like a four-year-old who had to pee. “He told me that your unstable temper is your best quality.” She glowed, like she’d just handed me an Emmy.

  Once again, Sterling revealed his ability to convey so much through a very few words. Yes, I had an unstable temper, but I certainly hoped that failing wasn’t the only noteworthy thing about me. “That hardly sounds like a compliment.”

  “Yeah, maybe not,” she conceded, looking down. “But in context it sounded better. But he asked about you—your habits.”

  To me that sounded more like Sterling was scheduling his revenge.

  “He also kept talking to the waiter about sports. Told him he plays lacrosse, that their game is a sure bet this week, on and on about Vegas and gambling and fantasy football. When I finally asked him if he’d like to invite the waiter to join us, he told me he was helping you.” She paused, her expression so blank I almost wondered if she’d suffered a stroke. “Are you into gambling?”

  “Or course not.” But the wheels were now spinning in my mind. I’d never known Cole to gamble. But I’d also never known him to be in financial trouble.

  The expectant look in Kendall’s eyes made my skin crawl. She was waiting for me to unburden myself to her, one of those mythical girl-bonding moments that I wasn’t willing to concede actually existed.

  I stared at my book, but five minutes passed and I still hadn’t read a single line.

  “Kendall?” I looked over toward her bed, where she was frantically texting someone. Her long, lacquered nails clicked against the surface of the phone with each letter. “Where did you go for dinner?”

  “Café Bastille,” she said. “I thought it was an odd choice. But then he got all weird about our waiter, even asked to be moved so we’d be in his section.”

  Sterling was up to something, that much was certain. But for once, the insidious angle wasn’t obvious. Where was the personal benefit? Why was he grilling the waiter about sports when he could be making sure Kendall maximized her one shot at him?

  My entire stomach seized up at the arrogance of his proclamation, at the disgusting, hedonistic way he had about him. It was fitting that the Marquis de Sade had been the subject of his little soliloquy in history class. He was both disturbed and disturbing.

  It almost erased my guilt over framing him. Almost. But my thoughts kept circling back to the other thing he’d said to Kendall—he was helping me. There was nothing I could possibly need from him—at least, nothing that didn’t hinge on Cole.

  Sterling knew what Cole was hiding. He’d lent Cole money to help him, and I’d repaid him in the coldest, cruelest way possible.

  The alarm on my desk beeped, indicating it was time to switch subjects. And I wasn’t even halfway through my history outline for the next day. At this rate, I’d be up at least two hours later than I should be. But try as I might, I couldn’t regain my focus—Cole was in trouble and the one person who seemed able to save him had also sworn revenge on me. Was Sterling truly helping Cole, or was it all just another alligator tooth? Something told me whatever Sterling’s reasons were for latching on to Cole and me, I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Reason 16:

  While he did warn me of imminent

  retaliation with his charming

  little alligator fable,

  it was totally disproportionate to my crime.

  And it took me a week to scrub the

  oil stains out of the carpet.

  My phone started ringing during class, which never happens since my father and Cole are the only people who call me and they’re aware of the school’s hours. However, when I checked my voicemail after class, it was from the private investigator I’d contacted. He told me to send the photo of Cole’s buddy and he’d see what he could do. It was a long shot, but since I couldn’t exactly go knocking door to door with the photo, it was the best chance I had.

  Kendall fell into step beside me as I crossed the quad toward our room. I looked up, trying to hide my surprise. No one ever walked across campus with me like that, locked in casual conversation. Red and blue paint flecks littered her cheeks like freckles. It appeared Kendall’s little hobby wasn’t a secret any longer.

  “I’ve decided to patch things up with Parker,” she said. “We’re going out this weekend and I’m going to just put it all out there—tell him I like him, that I want this to be more than just fooling around. I want the strings attached, and if he can’t do that, I’m walking away.”

  “Good for you,” I said, wondering why she was confiding in me. There were at least two dozen girls at Sablebrook more qualified to give relationship advice. And infinitely more interested in doing so. Even as we walked, I spotted three of her friends standing in front of the library in a cozy little cluster. “You have to ask for what you want,” I told her. “Be honest with him and with yourself. And if he doesn’t go along with it, then he’s not worth your time, anyway. You deserve someone who’ll appreciate you.”

  Kendall smiled at me. “Oh, good, I like it when you’re Honey Harper. Heartless Harper has her uses too—like if you really want to know whether your jeans make you look fat.”

  “You don’t need Heartless Harper
for that.” Her little nicknames made me smile. They were infinitely better than Harper the Hag. “And jeans can’t make you look fat. You either are or aren’t, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “Oh, so now we have Honest Harper. I like that even more.”

  When we reached our door, Kendall fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

  “Oh my God,” she said. Just standing there, staring into the room.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, peering around her shoulder. My jaw fell open all the way.

  There was a car in our room, dominating the space between our beds.

  A car.

  And not just any car.

  Headmaster Lowell’s minuscule Mini Cooper. The antique Mini he’d had shipped from London with the steering wheel where the passenger should sit. As if sitting on the wrong side of that death trap would make him cultured. Headmaster Lowell had always aspired to be affected in the most inconvenient and unimaginative ways.

  “What’s it doing here?” Kendall asked, making a slow circle around the car and then adjusting the side mirror.

  “I have no idea,” I said, pulling the door shut behind myself. Then I looked out the window and saw the flashing lights in the parking lot. Headmaster Lowell stood in his empty parking space, talking to a uniformed police officer.

  I was going to throw up.

  “This is fantastic!” Kendall giggled as she crawled inside and honked the horn. “I was just thinking we should redecorate.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I grabbed her arm and tried to wrench her back out of it, but she’d moved on to testing the hazard lights. She flipped the key in the ignition and the windshield wipers went wild.

  “You realize how much trouble we’ll be in if we’re caught with this?” I hissed. “We’ll get expelled.”

  “Nonsense. They’ll know there was no way two girls carried this thing up the stairs. Someone did this for us. As an offering.”

  “An offering?” I seriously considered throwing Kendall out the window.

  That is, until I looked at the small rectangle of paper she kept thrusting at me.

  It was a postcard. On the front was an alligator, jaws wide open.

  “Sterling.” It felt like all the blood drained from my body all at once. “He did this.”

  “How do you know?” Kendall asked, sounding not even the smallest bit skeptical.

  “The teeth,” I murmured. “These are the teeth.”

  His smug little smile flashed behind my eyes. I repay my debts in kind.

  He was planning to send me to the disciplinary committee right along with him. I grabbed the edge of my desk to keep upright as the world wobbled uncertainly around me.

  “You okay?”

  “No,” I said. “We have to get this car out of here. Now. This is his revenge. You can bet this is the first strike of a two-punch combination, and the second involves getting me expelled.”

  “Well, we can’t move this,” Kendall said. “Not by ourselves.”

  “Just give me a minute to think.”

  “Parker,” she said. “He’d know how to fix this.”

  Of course she’d think a boy could fix everything when we were just as able to handle it ourselves.

  “Let’s not involve anyone else,” I said. But Kendall was already frantically texting.

  “Parker is on his way. Don’t look so mad, seriously. We need some muscle here. Plus, he won’t believe this unless he sees it.” She giggled like it was Christmas morning, even though a misunderstanding like this could compromise our entire academic futures. I wanted to scream. Pressure built behind my eyes as panic ratcheted my heart into overdrive.

  But I looked at Kendall, at her smile of delight, and a tiny bit of it infected me. The rage slowly started to subside. No, it wasn’t funny, but it was the smallest bit amazing—Sterling Lane could simultaneously exact revenge on me and humiliate Headmaster Lowell. I sat on my bed and forced my breathing to slow, praying for Rules 1 through 10 to guide me. While they’d been cornerstone Rules in the past, even the most thorough guidance on keeping my room clean wouldn’t address removing an automobile from it. This problem transcended even the most sage of my Rules.

  I pulled out my phone and started searching. Slowly, a plan began to form.

  “Come in,” Kendall sang out, thumping toward the door in her platform sandals.

  “Why can’t you get rid of a cat on your own?” Parker asked, pushing his massive shoulders through the door. Then he froze and stared at the metal monstrosity in the middle of our room.

  “Car. You meant a car.” He raked one hand through his hair. “I heard this was missing. How’d it get here?”

  “Sterling Lane,” I said.

  Parker shook his head, looking at me with so much indignant outrage I could have kissed him. “How did he get it in here?” he asked.

  “If we knew that, we’d know how to get it back out,” I said. “But if he can figure it out, I can figure it out. He must have pulled it apart enough to squeeze it through the door. Probably the tires? We’ll need tools.”

  We sent Parker off to raid the groundskeeper’s shed while Kendall and I composed step-by-step instructions to dismantle the Mini Cooper. Or rather, Kendall sat on the floor painting her toenails hot pink, which she claimed helped her think, while I did all the documenting.

  “Nice work, Harper,” Parker said when our measurements confirmed that without wheels and the convertible top, the car could be turned on its side and would just barely fit through the door. “But we need more help,” Parker added. “I mean, you’re handy with a power drill, Harper, but you and I can’t lift a car. And Kendall is useless. She won’t break a nail even if it’s to save her own ass.” There was a bitterness clearly born of jealousy in his words.

  Kendall’s eyes misted over and my whole world turned red.

  “You are way out of line,” I said. “No jock-boy gets to come in here and push Kendall around. Not on my watch. The world needs beauty queens, too.”

  Parker’s eyes widened. Kendall rewarded me with a dry smile, gratitude mixed with surprise. “A backhanded compliment, but I’ll take it,” she said. “Snarky Harper.”

  “Still,” I said. “You may be right about needing more help.” Even though things were hardly perfect between us, Cole would never let me down in a crisis. I sent him a text: Emergency in my room. Come immediately.

  “There’s a freight elevator down the hall,” Kendall said. “And a dolly near the loading dock.”

  “We need a code for that,” I said.

  “Yes, but I know the code.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You know that cute security guard?”

  I shook my head, utterly at a loss. “Ick, Kendall. I don’t check out older men.”

  “Whatever. He’s like twenty or something.” She grinned. “Last week I was trying to switch our chair with a better one from the lobby.” At that, I glanced across the room. I hadn’t noticed the change, but the gray wingback was a definite improvement over the lumpy brown monstrosity that had been there before. “So he offered to help me. I watched him key in the code. I can totally get us in the elevator.”

  “Fantastic,” I said. Without Kendall’s contribution, we’d be carrying the headmaster’s Mini Cooper down three flights of stairs. There’d be virtually no way we wouldn’t be seen.

  Ten minutes later, someone banged on the door loudly and abruptly enough that we all jumped. For one horrible moment, I was positive it was the police. With a warrant. I wouldn’t put that past Sterling.

  “Harper? You okay?” I was touched by the concern in Cole’s voice.

  “Is anyone with you?”

  “No.”

  I opened the door a crack and dragged him inside. Then slammed it shut. “What’s wro—” The question disintegrated as his eyes landed on the car. He started to laugh.

  “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for,” I said. “Especially since it proves I was right about Sterling Lane.”
/>
  “No,” Cole said. “It proves I was right. I told you not to mess with him. I don’t know what you did to him, but he’s in our room getting drunk as we speak. He asked a few times if I’d talked to you. Guess now I know why.” Then Cole paused. “I overheard him on the phone earlier. His father froze his accounts. Does that have anything to do with this?”

  That revelation should have given me a surge of exultation. Of victory.

  Instead I felt terrible. Truly terrible. Not that I thought Sterling Lane needed to be one ounce more indulged, but this time, it wasn’t his fault. This time he was getting in trouble for help he rendered to Cole. I tried to comfort myself with the certain knowledge that he’d definitely gotten away with something far worse in the past, and that this was just delayed justice. But even that argument didn’t sit quite right with my conscience. Especially because staying here for his grandmother actually was a pretty good reason. I had a horrible, sinking revelation that I needed to fix the disaster I’d created for Sterling.

  “Yes,” I said. “But I’ll find a way to fix that, too.”

  I could never live with myself if I didn’t. Just like I couldn’t let Cole be expelled for whatever mess he’d gotten himself into. I’d seen the regret burning in his eyes the other day—and he didn’t deserve to be expelled and have his life ruined when he had clearly learned his lesson.

  Now I needed to get two boys off the hook for a crime only one committed.

  Reason 17:

  Just when I think we’ve reached

  the bottom of the dark hole

  of depravity that is his heart,

  he digs down even deeper.

  After we smuggled the car out of the dorm, we hid it among the construction equipment on the far side of the gymnasium. It was surprisingly light—antique British Mini Coopers were more like go-karts, a far cry from today’s more substantial American models.

  The school was installing the new gymnasium roof that had swallowed Cole’s first fund-raising efforts. Wooden crates of tools and a yellow Caterpillar excavator were poised for action the next morning. It wasn’t likely anyone would venture into the roped-off area until the construction team arrived at dawn. That gave us ample time and space to reattach the side-view mirrors and inflate the tires.