Free Under My Skin by Laura Diamond

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