Under My Skin Read Online Free Page B

ventilation system’s mechanical hum. Stephanie stares at me with her eyes wide. Mads clamps her hand over her mouth.
    “Miss Fox.” Mr. Watkins voice slices the heavy silence. “Starting your nonsense early, I see. Well I’m not tolerating it today. Please report to the Principal’s Office.”
    “She started it,” I say, pointing at Stephanie’s smug face.
    “Miss Fox . Don’t make me repeat myself.”
    I gather my stuff, tears stinging my eyes. I clench my jaw. There’s no way I’ll let myself cry here. Not in front of everyone, especially Stephanie.
    Watkins stands. The scrape of his chair grates on my nerves. “Apologize to Miss Veene before you go.”
    I grip my History book so tight that the binding creaks. “She’s a liar.”
    “I am not,” Stephanie sputters.
    Mr. Watkins raises a hand to silence us. “I believe you, Miss Veene.”
    I gape at him. “That’s so unfair. You just don’t want to piss her off so you don’t have to deal with her rich daddy.”
    His puffy cheeks redden. “Miss Fox. Apologize and go to the office. Now .”
    Ding-dong-ding .
    The three tones mark the final bell. For me, it’s a death knell.
    “Fine.” I turn to Stephanie and stare down my nose at her. “I’m sorry you’re so pathetic that you get off on bullying people.” Then I turn to Watkins. “And I’m sorry you’re too thick to see the truth. I’m not sorry for standing up for myself.” I keep my chin up until I get to the hallway, then nearly collapse to my knees in the hallway.
    I really screwed up this time.

Chapter Three
     
    Adam
     
     
    Mum drives me to school. No school buses for me. Her excuse is that it’s on the way to work, but the real reason is she doesn’t trust that I’ll be okay out of her sight. Quality time has turned into every waking moment time and the pretense of making every moment last has turned into Cardiac Arrhythmia Watch 24/7.
    I clutch my well-worn paperback of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein close to my heart. The doctor robbed graves, stealing body parts to create his monster. I suppress a shiver. In a way, the transplant surgeon does the same thing by harvesting a donor’s organs when they’re on the brink of death. If I get prioritized on the list, I’ll be waiting for that poor victim to arrive. Then I’ll steal his or her heart and with it, their life.
    Then I’ll be the monster.
    Fingers tight around the book, I stare out the window. Light flurries skitter across the windshield, chasing one another in a ceaseless dance. Frankenstein’s creation pursued him across Europe, tormenting him. The monster couldn’t handle his existence; he resented Frankenstein’s gift of resurrection. I wonder, will I resent my new life? Will having another person’s heart locked inside my ribcage change who I am?
    I release a shaky breath.
    The car jerks to a stop at the stoplight.
    “Are you alright?” Mum asks.
    Reality crashes around me. The car gently vibrates as it idles. Suffocating heat blasts out of the vents. I’m not alright. I haven’t been alright for a long time. But if I say so, Mum will have me at the doctor’s office in a heartbeat. Or in the very least, she’ll call Shaw for an emergency session.
    I shove the dial closed to shut off the dry air blowing on my face. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking.”
    “About what?”
    I’m afraid I’ll become a monster . “Um, nothing.”
    “As long as you’re feeling okay.” The statement hangs in the air between us like a cloud of Sarin gas.
    “I’d tell you if something was wrong.”
    “I trust you.”
    I nod. She means it, but I don’t believe her. She wouldn’t have to keep tabs on me all the time otherwise.
    She reaches over to brush back my shaggy hair. “You need a haircut. I’ll make an appointment for this weekend. We can catch a movie after, and maybe get some fish and chips.”
    “I don’t want a haircut.” I turn away, cringing at how whiny I sound.
    There’s a long pause, then a