Reason 11:

The Rules. The Rules!
He hijacked my Rules.

When I returned to my room that evening, Kendall was sprawled on her bed, wrapped in a fuzzy white blanket, eyes closed. Her shoes weren’t on her feet this time, but they were still resting on her pillow. I shuddered at the thought of pressing my face against such contamination. Then I looked at the floor—the empty Tupperware container was the exact size and shape of the one I’d used to store the batch of chocolate-covered madeleines I’d whipped up to celebrate my A on the physics test. Kendall had refused to even taste them before since they weren’t on her diet, yet she had devoured the entire batch from the look of it.

“What is that smell?” I asked. “Have you been burning incense or something? You know, that’s been linked to serious, long-term respiratory conditions.”

She opened her eyes and looked at me, her gaze vacant and strange.

“Are you okay?” I turned to hang my jacket in my closet. There, on the narrow strip of plaster between our two closets, was her painting. I smiled, an actual warm feeling spreading across my chest that she’d taken my advice.

A low voice drifted out from the darkened corner of the room.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

I turned and came face-to-face with the devil himself. He was perched on my bed, filthy boat shoes brushing against the edges of my freshly laundered duvet.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Haven’t you done enough for one day?”

“On the contrary. The night is when I really shine.” He smiled. “But you pose an interesting philosophical question. Is there really such a thing as enough? Personally, I’ve never thought so.”

“Get off my bed,” I said. When he didn’t move, I crossed the room in five quick steps. Three tugs on his arm, leveraging all my weight, and he still hadn’t budged.

“What are you doing?” Kendall asked, sitting up. “I’m sorry, Harper. I tried to make him leave. But I’m just so sleepy.” She yawned and stretched, curling back up in her bed, eyes at half mast, like she’d been sedated.

“What did you do to my roommate? And get your filthy street clothes off my bed.”

“My apologies, Miss Harper,” Sterling drawled, perfectly parroting the Southern lilt I’d worked so hard to stamp out of my vowels—the one that returned full-steam every time my temper hit a boil. “I forgot that Rule 405 has such specific requirements for the maintenance of linens. Quite illuminating, those rules of yours.”

My body temperature plunged to absolute zero.

“What did you say?” Suddenly I was in his face, inches away. I wasn’t sure what my plan was, but it definitely involved remodeling that perfectly straight nose.

“Well, your good friend Kendall and I have been getting acquainted. You see, she wanted to borrow a little something.” He inclined his head in her direction. A half-empty bottle of vodka nestled next to her like a puppy. I looked closer and saw a tiny cigarette. A joint. Pinched between her fingers. That explained the catatonic glaze in her eyes as she watched our little scene.

Disgust rolled through me. What kind of malicious monster would exploit Kendall like this? And what kind of two-faced roommate would summon a demon to our room? Just when I’d started to like her.

“And I wanted to borrow a little something, too.” He reached into the backpack resting on the floor and pulled out the pink Hello Kitty box Cole gave me for my fifth birthday. It housed all five hundred and thirty-seven of my babies.

“It’s really a lot to memorize,” he said. “One afternoon wasn’t quite enough, so I took the liberty of making copies. Also made a cheat sheet—modeled after your outlines, of course.”

I wrenched the file box from his hand so hard and so fast he recoiled. His expression had been all smug amusement, but now something else flashed in his eyes: surprise. And apprehension. He’d probably never seen anyone as furious as I was just then, and he probably never would again. My Rules were practically religious relics, the only thing I had left of my mother.

And he’d desecrated them.

“You’ve taken this too far,” I said. My voice was terrifying. Smooth and soft, the way a serial killer would sound in order to lure a victim into his windowless white van. “Leave. While you still can.”

Sterling’s eyes widened. One eyebrow arched. It gave me a wild shot of adrenaline to know he was curious about what I’d do next.

I wasn’t the only one who was morbidly reluctant to disembark from this runaway train to hell.

“Leave?” Kendall murmured. “Yes. I told him to, but he wanted to read all your recipes.”

The cool, calm voice deserted me as I turned on Kendall. “Recipes?” I choked out. “This has nothing to do with recipes. What he did—what he did is like reading my journal. What kind of roommate are you, letting my enemy invade my privacy? Didn’t you see they weren’t recipes?”

“I’m sorry, Harper. I really am. How should I know what a recipe looks like?” Kendall whispered against her pillow. “We have a cook.” A little puddle of drool had collected underneath her mouth, soaking into her bedspread. She had fallen asleep on her iPhone, and when she lifted her head to look at us, its silhouette was etched in the side of her cheek. I wanted to laugh, to fall in a heap on the floor and laugh until I cried. These things just didn’t happen to me. I had no frame of reference for anything other than being ignored, invisible. The most popular girl in school was stoned and passed out in my room, her hair a tangle of blond cotton candy, while a ruthlessly cunning boy had made it his sole purpose to destroy me. And they’d both just violated every last nanometer of my privacy.

Then Sterling actually laughed. I caught the corner of his flashy smile as he turned away, composing himself. “I had a feeling she didn’t know what she was doing. Held that joint like she was going to sign her name with it.” He shook his head. “Still, you’ve gotta give it to her. She put up a valiant effort—although for what, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t lay a finger on a girl in that state. And I can’t stand the smell of these things.” He picked up the remains of the joint and flicked it out the open window.

“Yet you smoke?”

“That was theatrics,” he replied. “You pissed me off that day in class. Figured it was an easy rule to break, and I know rule-breaking bothers you so much I couldn’t resist.”

“Yes, it does.”

When he turned back to face me, the storm had passed. My anger had been blunted by the weirdness of that moment. I had almost forgotten we were mortal enemies.

“So don’t give Kendall smokable substances in the future, please,” I said. “I have to live with her.”

“Lucky for me,” he said. “Look forward to lots of cozy little nights just like this.”

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded. Then I sat on my bed and put my head in my hands because suddenly I was just so tired. “I was protecting my brother. You can understand that. It’s nothing personal.” I wondered whether the arson story was true—whether he’d been expelled while trying to protect his sister.

“Everything is personal,” he said. “And of course I understand your motives. But your problems are just that—yours. Just like my problems are mine. And I need to protect my assets.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your little tattling game, which, if memory serves, violates Rules 54 and 467, could have cost me a year’s allowance at the very least, and could have meant I got transferred away from my grandmother. Keep your nose out of my business.” He walked to the window and pulled up the blinds. “A lesson I’ll teach as many times as necessary. So I suggest you leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone?” I sputtered. “You’re the one who sedated my roommate to invade my privacy. You leave me alone. And Cole.”

He turned back to face me, those brown eyes sharper and clearer than I’d ever imagined they could be. “Given how little you really, truly know about your brother and the current state of his life, you’re hardly qualified to make that request. I assure you I’m the lesser of two evils.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hated how right he was. Hated that his words mirrored what Cole had said to me himself.

“You’re a smart girl,” he said. “Figure it out.”

He slid the window open and perched on the sill. It was late, and if he were caught in our dorm, all our parents would be called. The irony of what everyone would assume if they found us together made me practically gag.

“Your rules are collateral,” he said, hitching one leg over the windowsill. Never would I have imagined Sterling Lane would be climbing out my bedroom window and down two stories after curfew. “As long as you behave, they’ll be our little secret.” His shoulders looked even broader when silhouetted against the streetlight streaming in through the window. And I despised myself for noticing.

“You think you can blackmail me?” I said.

He turned to look me dead in the eye. “I know I can.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I called out to his retreating back. “And before you go, I have a little story of my own. A little pearl of wisdom I’m willing to cast before swine.”

He froze, perched precariously on the window ledge, so that one tiny little shove would bring an end to all my problems forever. It was a full count of five before he turned his face back toward me.

“You don’t have a monopoly on asshole fathers,” I told him. “Every year my dad takes Cole on a fishing trip, and every year I ask if I can go, too. But he always told me it was a men’s trip. And part of me agreed—not because I’m a girl, but because I personally don’t have a lot of interest in hurting animals.”

“I know,” Sterling said. When I tipped my head the side, he added, “Rules 304, and, um, 310, I believe. But I’ll have to double-check.” He smiled like I should be oh-so-impressed by his amazing memory.

But instead I narrowed my eyes. “In his mind, I should be into clothing and makeup, which infuriated me. But I pretended I wanted to fish because I thought a shared interest would bring us closer, like he is with Cole.” I had no idea why I’d shared that last part, so I glowered at him, lest he think I wanted his sympathy. Because I thought I caught a glimmer of it.

“Then one year I finally convinced him to let me come along on a trip. I said I should learn to clean and prepare fish—you know, because cooking is girls’ work.” I paused for dramatic effect, but I didn’t need to. Sterling’s eyes followed my every move as I paced across the room, buying time so I could make up a new, more interesting story. One that didn’t end with me throwing up in the bathroom after my father sliced into the first miserable white-bellied fish.

“That year they were headed to the Florida Keys. While they were out in the water hauling in sailfish, I stayed in our rental house. It was actually pretty interesting—nestled in the mangroves, which have a fascinating natural history. Did you know they reach all the way to the ocean floor, so they can be a hundred feet tall?”

“No, I didn’t,” Sterling replied. He was trying not to smile at my digression. “Never been there.”

“They came home late in the afternoon, dragging the fish they’d caught behind the boat, partially submerged. And while they were tying up the boat, I heard this thrashing in the water behind it. I look, and there’s a massive alligator attacking the fish, trying to pull them lose from the boat. And all I can think about is that it’s ruining all my brother’s hard work and my big chance to be part of their bonding thing. So I jumped onto the boat and reached under the seat, where my father kept a handgun.”

Sterling’s outside foot slipped off the rain gutter, and he shifted to keep from falling out of the window. Wide brown eyes met mine. I had his full attention now.

His hands were wrapped around the windowsill, knuckles white from the effort of suspending himself halfway between inside and out. I thought for a moment he would climb back through the window, but he didn’t. In fact, he looked like he didn’t want to get any closer. I had to bite my cheek to hold back the smile as I watched my lies work their magic. Rule 76 was wrong about the power of truth prevailing over lies.

I looked Sterling right in the eye and let a tiny, knowing smile tug at my cheek. A little trick I’d picked up in the Sterling Lane School of Intimidation. “You see, I have outstanding aim. Another little tidbit I picked up trying to keep up with the boys. I shot that alligator right between the eyes.”

Sterling’s eyelids disappeared completely, and seconds ticked past before that smirk was brave enough to parade itself in front of me. That was how I knew I’d gotten under his skin—exactly where I wanted to be.

Then, with a kick of his other leg, he was gone, leaving me in my room with a catatonic Kendall and a ticking time bomb of emotions so complex that not one of my 537 Rules could tell me how to diffuse it.