Under My Skin by Laura Diamond Read Free Book Online

are worse than Mom and Dad’s.
    As soon as I arrive home, I set up a study session on the kitchen island, creating an altar made up of a notebook, my English textbook, a couple of pens, and a dictionary. All so Mom can see that I really am trying. I need to earn brownie points any way I can to buffer against Shepherd’s email.
    At first, I pretend the words have some meaning that I can understand. Unfortunately, the letters scramble almost immediately and I’m left staring blankly at the page, mind looping the crap day like a gif from Hell.
    My eyes bug out at the tumbling letters and words. I blink a few times, then rake my gaze across the room to clear my mind. Pale late afternoon light filters in through the breakfast nook’s bay window. It matches the dove gray cabinets and stainless steel appliances. I imagine what paints I’d need to create the exact same colors onto a canvas.
    The front door creaks open. It slams shut a second later. Mom’s measured steps make their way from the foyer to the kitchen. She drops her purse on the counter next to me and shrugs out of her pea coat. “Oh, wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.”
    “I didn’t feel like watching Daniel and his friends play with a ball.”
    “You could be working with the tutor on your reading. Principal Shepherd says he’s willing to stay after school to work with you.” Mom fills a pot with water and sets it to boil.
    “It doesn’t matter how many tutors I have, words will never make sense.”
    “I don’t buy that, Darby. You’re just not trying hard enough.”
    “How do you know? You don’t have a dyslexic brain.”
    “It’s not an excuse you can use for your entire life. Better to master it now before—”
    “Just drop it, okay?”
    “You’ll have to figure it out sometime.” Mom adds spaghetti to the pot.
    “Whatever.” I dismantle my study altar.
    “Darby.” She tucks a lock of her long, gray hair behind her ear and sets her dark brown eyes on me.
    “ What ?” I steel myself, waiting for her to question me about Shepherd’s email. There’s a zero percent chance Shepherd didn’t send one and I’ve totally blown any chance of impressing Mom with my “studying.”
    Mom stares me for a long time. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”
    “Don’t say anything.”
    “Fine.” Mom pours a jar of marinara into a saucepan.
    My mind fuzzes. That’s it? We’re not going to keep arguing? Either she hasn’t read Shepherd’s email, or she’s waiting for Dad. My stomach tightens.
    I hide in my room until dinner. Daniel arrives at five thirty. Dad comes in at five forty-five. My heart threatens to jump out of my throat at five fifty-five. We all sit at the dining table promptly at six.
    It’s all I can do not to barf on the polished oak table.
    I sit across from Daniel, quiet. The seconds tick by, measured by the antique Grandfather clock behind me. I suck down half a glass of water, but can’t manage a single bite of spaghetti.
    After gracing Daniel with a few “atta boys” for being awesome at everything, Dad settles into serious mode and says, “Did you check your email, Annette?”
    Mom shakes her head. “No.”
    He tips his head toward me, his dark blue eyes honing in on me like a heat-seeking missile. “Principal Shepherd sent one. Darby called another student a bitch.”
    Mom lowers her fork. “Why?”
    Heat creeps up from my neck to my ears. “It wasn’t my fau—”
    “You say that every time. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You need to take responsibility for your actions.” Dad clenches his jaw. His cheeks redden, probably like mine. It’s his blood pressure skyrocketing. One of these days he’s going to get so mad at me that he’ll stroke out.
    Quick, hot tears blur my vision. “I’m sorry I can’t be perfect like Daniel.”
    Mom clears her throat. “This is about you, Darby.”
    “Yeah, don’t drag me into this.” Daniel raises his hands.
    “It was all about Daniel five minutes