Under My Skin (8 page)

The second floor bathroom is down its own hallway and is rarely used, so I can dip in there to take a break before class. Unfortunately, a couple other kids have the same idea. They huddle just outside the door. Fantastic. I frown, ready to bark at them to get out of the way, when I recognize who it is.

Stephanie Veene.

And she’s wrapped around Eric Thorton, the bad-assiest of bad-asses. Okay, so I get the appeal of danger, but Eric is a bad boy and not in a good way. He’s one write-up shy of getting kicked out of school for good. Plus, he got arrested for drug possession. The idiot blabbed all about it in detention last week.

Stephanie giggles softly and gives him a sly smile with her lip-glossed mouth. His hands are all over her, and then his lips are too. I try not to vomit at the sight of it. This whole thing makes less sense than the essay I tried to write last night. Popular cheerleaders don’t hang with outcasts.

They’re so into each other that they haven’t noticed me. I hang back, avoiding sudden movements.

My mouth salivates at the idea of shouting, “Who’s the slut now?” With my luck, I’ll end up in Principal Shepherd’s office again.

More giggles ripple out of her, curdling my stomach. She’s making out with a dude building his career for a jail cell and thinks nothing of it. I kiss a guy at a club and get crap for it. I clench my jaw.

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Stephanie’s voice reminds me of a cat’s meow.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I just won’t be in the bleachers,” Eric says.

“You’ll miss my half-time dance routine.” Stephanie sticks out her lower lip.

Eric brushes it with his tattooed thumb. “Find me after. I have something to show you.”

I bet he does. Ew. Yuck. Gross.

He breaks free from her and turns toward me. Our eyes lock. “The hell you doing here?”

“Duh, I’m going to the bathroom,” I say.

He bumps into me on his way past. On purpose. “Whatever.”

“Asshole.” I rub my shoulder.

Stephanie locks her hip to the side and crosses her arms. “So you like to watch, huh?”

I grab the bathroom door’s handle, flipping my hair back with a twist of my head. “You should be careful. People will talk.”

“About what?”

“Sucking on Eric’s face. He’s one arrest away from spending ten to twenty behind bars.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You shouldn’t spread nasty rumors about people. And what I do with Eric is none of your business.”

“They’re not rumors. He told me—”

“Blah, blah, blah. Why are you still talking?” She pops her gum. Her pleated skirt swishes around her legs and her curled hair bounces as she struts away.

Stupid blonde bitch.

I enter the bathroom and lean against the door, locking it so no one else can come in. Heat flares in my face. I dig my fingernails into my palms. Since Shepherd says I can’t fight back, I’ll have to use a different strategy. And what’s the best way to get back at someone? Give them a taste of their own medicine.

In Stephanie’s case, it has to be humiliation.

I smile at myself. Principal Shepherd is right. I don’t have to react to Stephanie when she provokes me. I can act first.

Oh, this bitch is going down.

* * *

The real reason I stay at school for basketball games is to work on my art. I paint better alone, away from home, away from Mom and Dad and Daniel. Tonight I have a different plan. Stephanie Veene is meeting a baddy after her halftime glory show and I want to know exactly what they’re going to do. So I sit in the far corner of the bleachers closest to the doors and watch the beauty squad jump and twist around the basketball court while the two teams take a break on opposite benches.

After shaking their pompoms, boobs, and butts, the cheerleaders skip off court to a bleacher shaking round of cat calls and clapping. I circle to the locker room’s back entrance and tuck myself behind an alcove. Only the main hallway light is on, so plenty of shadows cover me.

Eric hasn’t shown up yet.

Who knows what he has in mind for pretty girl Stephanie, but I’m gonna be there to see it.

And record it.

I pull out my phone, open the camera app, and switch it to record. I make sure it’s silenced and the flash is off and hold my finger over the start button, waiting, waiting …

… waiting.

Twenty minutes go by and no one shows up. The game will be over before Stephanie and Eric arrive. Cheers from the gym echo down the hallway and the floor vibrates when the audience stomps on the bleachers. Must be a thrilling game.

Giving up, I stuff my phone into my back pocket. What a waste of time. I scuff my boots a bit as I walk toward the main hallway. At the corner, I spot a rush of blonde hair and red pompoms. I retreat a step, then peek around the wall.

Sure enough, Stephanie is doing her girly run toward the school’s main entrance. Eric stands just inside the doors. He’s wearing a black leather biker jacket, black jeans, and has a chain hooked to his wallet and belt loop. His dark hair is spiked with gel and a cigarette is tucked in his ear.

Cliché central.

I refrain from rolling my eyes because if I did, they’d probably get stuck.

Stephanie throws herself into his arms. “Hey, baby,” she croons.

Eric twirls her around in a circle. “Missed you.”

Their lips lock like they’re trying to eat each others’ faces.

Bile rises in my throat. Since when does the perfect princess fall for the scumbag? Does anybody know about it? Isn’t Stephanie worried about her reputation like Daniel worried about mine? It’s not like they’re trying too hard to keep it secret.

I scan the hallway. Still empty. Not even one person wandering to the bathroom or outside to sneak a smoke.

Wouldn’t it be disastrously beautiful to expose the tramp for what she is?

I pull out my phone to snap a few pics.

Shudders of revenge ripple down my spine with every click. Later, I’ll decide how to share the news with the entire student body. Then Stephanie will get what she deserves.

* * *

Sleet pings against the windshield as Daniel drives us home. The Mustang’s engine thunders and the heaters burp out stale hot air. I hold my palms to the vents. Should’ve worn more than a hoodie.

Daniel’s thumbs tap against the steering wheel. His head bobs with the rhythm he’s beating out. “Man, that was an awesome shot,” he murmurs to himself. Well, I assume he’s talking to himself. He knows I have zero interest in his mad basketball skills. “Three points,” he follows up, as if I’ve responded to him.

“You lost the game,” I say.

He slows the car to a gentle stop at the light. “I had the most baskets. Makes me high point player.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in team.”

“Did you see me play? I saw you on the bleachers at half time.” The light turns green. Daniel snorts and presses the gas. The car fishtails a bit before steadying out.

“Are you sure you know how to drive in this?” I glare at him.

He totally misses it since he’s staring at the slick road ahead. “No worries, sis. What were you up to, anyway?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He gives a low whistle—the universal what’s-pissed-
you
-off signal. “Sorry for asking.”

“Not that I have to tell you, but something very interesting happened tonight while you and your buddies were sweating all over each other.”

He taps the brakes as we head around a curve in the road. The car weaves some more. “Oh yeah? What?”

I grit my teeth, partly at him, partly at how much the car is struggling. “Don’t sound surprised that your three point shot wasn’t the most fantastic event of the evening.”

He chuckles. “Oh yeah? Come on, then. Spill it.”

“I saw Stephanie Veene kissing Eric Thorton.” I grin at the ice-slicked windshield.

“Uhh, so?”

My pride deflates like a torn balloon. “
So
? Stephanie called me a slut and she’s the one hooking up with a known jerk.”

“Why do you care what she does?”

“You care what I do.”

“Of course I do. You’re my sister.” Daniel hits the brake as the car slides into another bend. He turns up the speed on the wipers. “Can’t see a thing.”

I huff. “You don’t get it. I caught the perfect princess sullying herself with a pig
and
I have the evidence to prove it.”

“
Sullying?
You haven’t actually been reading the Shakespeare assignment, have you?”

I whack his arm. “Stop being such an ass and listen to me.”

He raises his shoulder in a mock dodge. “Okay, okay. What ‘evidence’ do you have?”

“Pictures.”

Daniel glances at me. “Pictures?”

“Yeah, of them making out.”

“You took pictures of people kissing? Why?”

I want to smack my forehead, or better yet bash it against the dashboard. “I can bring down the queen. All I have to do is post the pictures somewhere—”

“And what? It’s not like you can put them on Facebook. When she sees you’re the one who posted them, won’t she do something about it? Like try to get back at you or something?”

“I’m not afraid of her.”

“Darby, you don’t need to get in any more trouble.” His tone carries a warning I don’t particularly like. I don’t need a third parent.

“I can print them and hang them on the bulletin boards.”

“She’ll know it was you.”

“Whatever. Her friends are your friends and you don’t want me to get back at her because they’ll get mad at you too.”

“That’s so not true. You know this little revenge plot of yours will backfire on you. Mom and Dad will go ballistic when they find out.”

“They’re already mad. What difference will it make?”

“If you stop doing stupid things, they won’t be mad.”

“What happened yesterday wasn’t my fault!” I wave my hand for emphasis.

“You shouldn’t let Stephanie get to you.” He sounds like Principal Shepherd.

“You’re just as bad as they are. This is a total double standard.”

He shifts to a lower gear after cresting a hill. It’s pure ice. I tuck my hands under my thighs. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me. You’re the one who screwed up.”

“Why didn’t you stick up for me last night? I could’ve used your help then.”

“There was nothing to stick up for. I warned you at the party and you ignored me.”

“Wow, thanks for throwing that in my face. And newsflash, Mom and Dad listen to you, not me.”

“What could I say about you ending up in the Principal’s office?”

“Forget it.” I cross my arms over my chest.

The car skids a bit. Daniel taps the brake. “I hope you drop this whole revenge thing.”

“I said forget it, okay?”

“Okay. Geez.” He hits the brake a little stronger.

The slope dips. We speed up, despite Daniel’s shifting to first gear. The Mustang’s back end swings left. Daniel counter-steers into it, but overcorrects. We spin to face a drop off bordered by a guardrail.

My heart races as my breath catches in my throat. I press my palms against the dashboard. “Daniel!”

“Shit!” Daniel works the steering wheel some more. The car whips in the opposite direction. We cross the double lines, right in front of a truck climbing the hill. Bright headlights wash us in yellow light.

We’re going to die. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“Hang on.” He yanks the wheel right. The car slides on an angle, but doesn’t entirely return to our lane. I scream, covering my face with my hands.

Air brakes squeal. Time slows until I can see individual shards of ice falling from the sky and feel the reverberations of my heart pumping blood through my body.

I suck in a breath.

In a click of infinity, the clock rushes forward and the truck barrels toward us, lethal and inescapable.

The truck slams into Daniel’s door.
Boom!
Glass shatters as metal smacks metal, letting out a screeching cry. I jerk left into my seatbelt then crash into the door. My skull bounces off the window and I bite my tongue.

Like a hockey puck, the car slides across the road, aimed for the drop off.

“Daniel!” My voice cracks.

We smash into the guardrail. The impact launches me forward. The seatbelt holds tight but my head bobs so fast something pops in my neck. Searing pain streaks down my shoulders and arms, leaving my fingers an instant mess of numbness and tingling. Air shoots out of my lungs. Hungry blackness chews at the edges of my vision as an obnoxious blaring stabs my ears.

I turn my head toward Daniel, wincing at the crunching agony ripping down my spine.

He’s slumped over the steering wheel. His eyes are closed. Blood streaks down his face. Something glittery peppers his hair. His hands lay limp in his lap. I slide my gaze to the spider web pattern marking the windshield.

No, it’s not a spider web. The glass is shattered and bits of it sprinkle across the dashboard and, oh my god, it’s glass in his hair, not glitter.

Warning bells drone in my head. His head must’ve hit the windshield! Wasn’t he wearing his seatbelt? Why isn’t he moving? Is he breathing?

Tears sear my eyes. “Daniel? Wake up, please. Daniel!”

I reach out to him. Pain spikes in my neck and swallows me whole until I’m consumed by darkness.

Adam

The next night, I’m still chewing on Dr. Shaw’s words. I don’t repeat them to Mum or Dad. There’s no point to. My parents are eating out of her hand like tame deer and I don’t have the energy to explain my side of the story.

Dad tosses our take-out containers in the trash. “I should head out. I have some work to catch up on.”

Mum rushes to give him a hug and kiss. “Drive carefully. Looks icy out there.” She gestures to the window.

Sleet attacks the glass like an orc army beating the walls of Helm’s Deep. I nestle deeper under the covers. Nothing can touch me here. Not Dad’s denial of my worsening illness or Dr. Shaw’s challenges or Mum’s flitting over me every two seconds. Not even Death, even though it resides deep in the chambers of my heart, waiting to draw the scythe across my arteries and veins.