Imperfect

Chapter 6

Things have been so busy lately! I'm so sorry for the wait. Hope you like it :)

Chapter 6

I squinted down at the paper in front of me, biting my lip as I reconsidered my wording in the conclusion. It seemed smooth and it flowed nicely. I’d spent an entire week editing the damn thing, painstakingly going over each and every detail until it was as polished as it was going to get.

Still...

Was it enough?

The last time I’d given Mr. Ford a paper, he’d given me an A minus. He’d told me to work harder.

Hah.

Well, this paper was pretty damn near perfect. I’d done extra reading, scouring the library until I’d found every single book on the subject, forgoing sleep so I didn’t miss anything.

So I never had to see another minus again.

If he had a problem with my paper this time, maybe it wasn’t my writing that bothered him.

Maybe it was just me.

Wouldn’t be the first time, I thought as my father walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, not even once glancing in my direction. I sat on a stool at the island in the centre of the open concept kitchen. I was pretty hard to miss.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice soft, as if I was afraid any loud noise might startle him, might make him realize the resident pariah was in the same room as him.

He just grunted, pouring himself a cup of coffee and grabbing a muffin before taking a seat across from me.

Well, he sat sort of diagonally from me.

As in, the furthest seat he could be from me.

My chest tightened slightly and I felt my heart stutter a bit before resuming at a faster pace, making my breathing pick up.

I bit my lip as I discretely studied my father while he read the paper, wondering what it was that made this so hard for us. Why was it that other families existed together with such ease? They laughed and watched cartoons and had actual conversations. What was it about me that made it so difficult?

You’re crazy.

My eyes came to rest on my paper again and I winced inwardly, seeing the way the bottom of the pages lined up perfectly with the edge of the counter and the way my muffin was cut into four equal parts so precise that they looked almost measured.

I cleared my throat trying to ignore the way my heart was racing as I stood to get a glass of water. “Dad, would you like a―”

“Morning, Daddy,” Paige said, waltzing into the kitchen and planting a kiss on my father’s cheek. I watched, frozen, as his eyes lit up and the wrinkles that had been bunching his forehead smoothed out.

“Morning, Paige,” he said warmly. “Tell me,” he continued, turning his attention back to the newspaper as Paige made a bowl of cereal, ignoring me, “are you planning on actually attending school today?”

Paige shrugged, sending a grin over her shoulder towards my dad. “I hadn’t decided yet.”

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head before turning the page.

“What the hell are you doing, freak?”

I blinked at Paige, realizing that she was staring at me as I held a glass clutched in my fingers, close to my chest, holding it as if it were precious.