by Eden Beck
“Nah, in fact, we did you all a favor. Now we know what kind of punishments they like. Cleaning the gym at the crack of dawn? Psssh, child’s play,” Sterling says with a wave of his arm.
“Seriously dude?” Alaska sighs exasperatedly.
“Yeah, seriously. At the hardcore places we’d be doing a thousand pushups or a weeks-worth of scrubbing toilets alone to set an ‘example.’ Team cleaning? They don’t want to punish us any more than we want to be punished,” Sterling shoots back.
“Should have guessed you were the reform school expert.” Alaska rolls her eyes and sighs.
“Oh, you like that?”
“Barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Reform School,” Alaska replies with a laugh.
Just then, Mr. Peters arrives among the group, coffee in hand and an overly cheery smile plastered on his face.
“Good morning everyone, ready to get to work?” he asks as he unlocks the door to the gym and we all shuffle inside.
The gym is large, echoey and dark. Mr. Peters fumbles around and flips a switch, illuminating the space with glaring fluorescent light.
The dean was right, this place is really nice. Shiny floors and clear, glass basketball hoops. Pennants are hung on the walls, marking the different athletic achievements of the school sports teams over the years.
I can’t help but wonder who this school plays against. Do reform schools have their own league or something?
I could see how that might get … interesting.
“Okay, now for assignments. When I call your name, step forward please.” Mr. Peters shuffles through some papers on a clipboard. “Okay, Alaska Remington and Clark Butler?”
Alaska and Clark step forward. “Good morning you two! You’ll be cleaning and organizing the basketball equipment. Off you go,” Mr. Peters says.
Alaska gives me an apologetic look as she heads off with Clark.
Mr. Peters continues to read down the list, pairing off students.
“Aubrey Newport and Sterling Van Ness?”
My stomach drops. Are you kidding me?
Sterling just grins at me again as he steps forward.
“Alright, you two will be cleaning out the men’s lockers. They’re over that way.” Mr. Peters motions.
I start to walk toward the locker room and Sterling jogs up next to me.
“Well, this just has to be fate right Aubrey?” he teases. “The one person who’s taken a … special interest … in getting to know you better and you’re stuck alone with them for the next few hours.”
“Yeah, what luck.”
Before we walk into the locker room, I notice a bucket of cleaning supplies outside the door and grab it. At least now I have something to throw at him if I need to make a quick escape. Can’t let myself get caught off guard like last time.
But then as soon as we step inside, the smell nearly knocks me off my feet. It stinks of sweat and body spray and water that just never really fully dries.
“Let’s just get this done as quickly as possible,” I say as I toss a bottle of disinfectant spray at Sterling.
I walk over to the first locker, pop it open, and immediately gag. The stench of a rotting banana left abandoned in the back corner hits my nose and nearly burns through my nostrils. I grab a pair of gloves out of the bucket and attempt to hold my breath as I excavate the rotting carcass and throw it in the trash bag.
It’s a far cry from the glittering gymnasium. I guess it says a lot about this place.
It only matters how things appear from the outside. Inside … inside can be rotten for all they care.
Starting on the row behind me, Sterling opens his own locker and begins to laugh.
“Looks like someone was VERY optimistic about his time at Ridgecrest,” he says.
Unable to curb my curiosity, I spin around and see Sterling holding a long strip of condoms that he pulled out of the locker. I nearly drop my disinfectant bottle. He tosses the strip at me and I jump out of the way like he threw a viper instead.
“What’s the matter Aubrey? Don’t worry, they can’t do anything all by themselves.”
He laughs.
“It’s just gross, who knows whose filthy hands have already been on them,” I say, trying to recover.
“Who’s to say your hands aren’t just as filthy?” he snaps back.
The comment staggers me. “Why would you say that?”
He just cocks his head at me. For a second, I think he’s just going to drop it and let us go back to cleaning lockers in semi-silence.
But then he doesn’t. He just doesn’t.
“Because I don’t buy the whole innocent girl act,” Sterling says, his voice suddenly serious. “There’s more to you than meets the eye … You’re just trying to hide it all behind this.”
He makes a gesture to the rest of me, his eyes lingering for a moment on my hair, and I can’t help but reach up to absentmindedly check that my ponytail is still in place.
“What, you don’t think I’m just a genuinely nice person?” I ask.
“I don’t think most anyone is Aubrey. Niceness is just a really effective way of getting what you want.”
“So, you’re a jerk because … you don’t want to get what you want?” I snap back.
Woah, where did that come from?
Sterling looks at me for a moment and his jaw flexes a bit.
I think I hit a nerve somehow.
He takes a step toward me. “I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Sure, some people might call me an ass, but I don’t give a fuck about those people. At least I don’t try to convince people I’m anything more than what I am, unlike most of you posers.”
Sterling’s face is dark now. Gone is the teasing, boyish grin. His lips are set in a firm line and his muscles are tense.
My mind races.
Shit, what do I do?
As if summoned by the tension itself, the locker room door flies open and Mr. Peters appears from around the corner.
“Ah, good, hard at work I see!” he says cheerfully. “I just wanted to take this opportunity to pop in and give you both your volunteer assignments for the semester. As you know, we require all students to participate in community volunteer work. You will both be assigned to the Golden Leaf retirement facility. Lovely folks over there, I’m sure you’ll find the experience quite rewarding.”
Sterling and I trade glances.
Great, I’ve managed to convince him I’m a cheap poser and now I’m going to be stuck working with him for the entire semester. I’m sure that’s going to go great.
“Anyways, I don’t want to keep you two from your work. Just one last thing, Aubrey, can you step outside with me for a moment?” Mr. Peters asks.
“Of course.” I put down my cleaning supplies and follow him out into the hallway.
But not, of course, before I see a smug look on Sterling’s already drawn face. I know how this looks.
It looks like he’s got to be right.
I have something to hide. Something that requires … special attention … from the guidance counselor.
Thanks to Mr. Peters, I highly doubt I’ll be able to convince Sterling of my innocence now.
As if I ever could have. He strikes me as the type that’s hard to convince otherwise as soon as he’s got his mind made up.
Once we’re outside, Mr. Peters turns to me and reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder.
“I’ll be your assigned counselor for your time here at Ridgecrest, and I just wanted to let you know personally that if there’s anything at all that you need, my door is always open.”
He gives me a reassuring smile, and I wonder how much he knows. Do all the counselors know why we got sent here, even the ones whose files are supposed to be sealed?
“Oh, okay, thanks,” I reply.
“Is there anything you need to talk to me about now?” he asks. His eyes flicker back to the locker room, and I wonder for just a moment if he’d overhead any of my earlier exchange with Sterling.
&n
bsp; Even if he had, what would I really tell him?
I mean, besides the fact that I found SLUT scrawled across my pillows, I’ve been assigned to volunteer with the one person here that seems determined to get me to break my NDA, and I’m not even sure how I’m going to survive the day?
“No, I’m fine, still settling in, but I’ll let you know if I need anything,” I reply with a smile.
“Okay, anyways, offer is always open.”
Mr. Peters says it reassuringly, but his words ring empty.
Even if I did tell him everything, what would it really do? I think we both know the answer to that.
He heads off down the hall, leaving me alone outside the locker room door, my stomach tied in knots.
His gesture was meant to be reassuring, but all it’s done is remind me of the precarious situation I’ve found myself in—and I haven’t even been here a week.
Chapter Six
When we finally emerge from the gymnasium, the sun is streaming across the quiet quad. I shield my eyes and search for Alaska and Clark until I spot them to my right and walk over.
“I’m never going to get the smell of jock strap out of my nose,” Alaska is moaning as I approach.
“You and me both. If I didn’t like sports before, I definitely don’t now,” Clark agrees. “Can’t wait for this weekend.”
“What’s this weekend?” I ask, finally settling into stride beside them as we head back toward the dorms.
Alaska’s face immediately lights up.
“I was just telling Clark here that my parent’s lake house isn’t far from here and they’re in Brazil for the summer, so we should go up there this weekend and blow off some steam,” Alaska says. She wrinkles up her nose again. “I’m hoping I can force enough lake water up my nose to get the rest of that stench out of it for good.”
I must not respond with enough enthusiasm, because she rolls her eyes and nudges me. “I’m inviting you to come along, silly.”
I bite my lip.
“Are we allowed to leave the school?”
This makes Alaska chuckle. She nudges Clark and a look passes between them. “See?” she says. “Certified good-girl, through and though.”
Both of them shake their heads for a moment, as if contemplating how I ever ended up here in the first place.
“But yeah,” Clark says, before I get the guts up to try to foolishly defend myself, “weekends are free so long as you don’t end up with detention. Just tell them you’re visiting family and you’re golden.”
Both he and Alaska are looking at me now, and I feel myself squirming under their gaze. I was never invited to any parties people threw outside of school. At least, not the real “parties.” I suddenly feel my stomach twist nervously.
What if my parents find out? What if I act like an idiot?
But I pause.
Everyone already thinks I’m a screw up, I might as well start owning the part.
I’m already at a school for delinquents. What’s the worst that could possibly happen over one weekend away?
The rest of the day drags by slowly, the early morning weighing my eyelids down no matter how much coffee I throw back. I end up in my Advanced Chem class barely able to keep my head up. It’s a small class, only about a dozen students. To my surprise, Chase walks through the door before the class starts.
He notices me and slides into the seat next to me.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t expect to see you in this class,” I say, realizing too late that my mush-for-brains didn’t consider how insulting that might sound.
“Yeah, surprise, the jock is a bit of a nerd too,” Chase says with a laugh. “Don’t tell Sterling, okay? He’d never forgive me.”
He throws an exaggerated wink in my direction.
I laugh. “Okay, sure. I don’t think Sterling cares much about my opinions anyways.”
“Oh, Sterling is full of shit. He may act all chill but trust me, he’s a bigger dork than most people realize.”
Why is he being so nice to me? I didn’t see this coming from a steroid-using jock …
Certainly not one who’s used to hanging out with the likes of Bridget. Not to mention Sterling.
The professor walks in and begins to drone on, announcing that whoever we’re currently seated beside will be out lab partners for the semester. As little as ten minutes ago, that bit of news might have made my stomach sink.
But now, not so much.
I glance over shyly at Chase, only to see he’s already looking at me. A broad smile spreads across his face when we lock eyes.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, Stoner Girl,” Chase says playfully.
As we get started on the work, it’s clear that Chase isn’t just muscles. He’s surprisingly smart. He easily moves through the first experiment, his calculations even giving the professor pause.
I never would have guessed it, but I count my lucky stars I’m paired with him. At least one of my classes this semester is guaranteed to be a breeze.
“Impressively clean work Mr. Adams, I suggest you keep this up,” the professor says approvingly.
“I have to admit, I’m impressed too,” I say to him, as soon as the professor’s back is turned.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s always handy to be able to impress teachers and parents. Being a nerd doesn’t do much else for you,” Chase says.
“I mean, good schools, good jobs?”
“Yeah, we’ll see how that all works out. Can’t say a stay at Ridgecrest makes me much of an Ivy League prospect anymore,” he says as he finishes solving another problem. Chase turns his eyes to me. “Though, I’m sure you know that feeling. You think you’ll still get into Brown, Stoner Girl?”
I shrug. “I mean, I hope so. I dunno, Brown was my parent’s idea.”
“So, what would your idea be?” Chase asks. “If you could do the whole thing over, reapply … where would you go? Would you go at all? To college, I mean.”
His question makes me freeze in my seat, my mind going surprisingly blank.
Has anyone ever actually asked me that before?
“I don’t really know,” I say, after a moment’s hesitation. “Never really had to give it too much thought.”
“You should. Don’t let people tell you who you should be. You’ll never be happy if you do,” Chase says as he closes his notebook and stands up just as the bell rings. “See you around, Stoner Girl.”
Wow, I did not expect any of that … Who gave the crazy jock permission to be so … wise?
Chapter Seven
Soon, Friday rolls around and I find myself standing outside the front of the school, waiting for the van to take me to my volunteer assignment. Just when I’ve started to wonder if Sterling is even going to bother showing up, he suddenly appears at my side. I haven’t had any one-on-one interactions with him since the gymnasium cleaning, which we finished in silence after Mr. Peters pulled me aside.
To my surprise, he walks over and stands right next to me. To my even greater surprise, he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it up.
“Pretty sure you’re not allowed to smoke here,” I say, glancing back over my shoulder at the school still looming in sight behind us.
He follows my gaze, though his is markedly lazier than mine.
“I don’t see anyone around, you gonna sell me out?”
There’s a pause, the silence filled only with the soft sound of burning tobacco.
“Seriously, how do you care so little about what people think of you?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder once more.
Sterling looks at me sideways as he takes a drag from his cigarette.
“Because it doesn’t matter,” he says flatly.
I should just drop it, but something about the smell of the cigarette … or maybe it’s just Sterling … makes my temper flare up.
What if we’re spotted and we both get in trouble? Isn’t that what happened with the whole basketball incident?
I am not getting written up just because Ster
ling can’t wait fifteen minutes to find a better place to light up.
“I mean, it kind of does,” I say, leaning conspicuously away from the wafting smoke. “People make decisions about you that affect your life. Like ending up here.”
“Only if you let them. Look, I’m not a therapist, whatever you gotta work through, I’m not the one to help you with it, okay?” Sterling says briskly as he turns away to finish his cigarette. Seconds after he extinguishes it under his toe, the school van pulls up and we both board in silence.
Thankfully, it’s a short ride to Golden Leaf retirement home where we’re greeted by a cheerful nurse at the door.
It’s a stark contrast from my greeting with Sterling earlier.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she says, her voice carrying a chirping lilt to it that makes it almost impossible not to like her. “We’re excited to have you both helping us out for the next few months, there’s so much to do!”
We follow her inside, the scent of disinfectant and musk hitting my nose as we walk in. Older people mill about, leaning over walkers or snoozing in chairs. The nurse ushers us into a small office near the front doors. She sits down at the desk and we slide into chairs opposite her.
“Now, have either of you ever worked with the elderly before?” she asks.
“I have, I used to volunteer at a home near my old school,” I say. “I helped run programs, book clubs, and crafts mostly.”
She nods enthusiastically at the news, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise as if she’s never encountered a Ridgecrest student who’s used to being … I don’t know, human, before.
“Perfect! We need someone to take over the senior art class. Now, how about you young man?”
The nurse turns to Sterling, who’s wearing an expression as surly as hers is pleasant.
He shifts a bit in his chair. “Uh, yeah, I’ve actually volunteered somewhere like this before. I taught a music class,” he says.
The nurse’s eyes brighten, and I subconsciously turn and look at him with a bit of shock.
