Imperfect

Chapter 2

Okay, I know this isn't the chapter you all wanted buuuut I figured it was better than nothing, right???? hahaa enjoy!

Chapter 2

I pushed my potato salad across my plate, my eyes locked on my report card sitting on the table next to me. I’d gotten all A’s.

My gaze slid to the head of the table where my dad sat, his reading glasses perched at the edge of his nose, his attention focused on the paper in his hand, not even bothering to look as he forked food into his mouth.

I glanced over at my mother, noticing that she was reading a magazine, her back perfectly straight, her expression her usual mix of boredom and disdain that never failed to make me feel like I was somehow failing her.

Putting my fork down, I cleared my throat, trying to get their attention. Neither of them moved, their gazes remaining on their reading material.

I bit my lip, that ugly, coiled thing inside of me winding tighter as my fingers started to shake making my fork hard to grip. I set it down and placed my hands in my lap, curling my fingers inward until I was making fists when I cleared my throat again.

When they still didn’t look I decided that the direct approach was necessary. “I got my report card today,” I said, my voice flat, almost businesslike.

My father made a noncommittal sound while my mother didn’t make any move as if she’d heard me.

Letting out a long, slow breath, I shifted my gaze to my hands in my lap, fidgeting slightly in my seat, wishing I could go outside because the air in the dining room just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I reached up and tugged at the neck of my blouse, wanting to undo a button but just then my mother looked up, her eyes latching onto where my hand was before her gaze connected with mine, a knowing light in her eyes that made me stop breathing altogether and had my hand dropping back into my lap so fast that I practically punched my thigh.

Her lids lowered slightly, her blue eyes turning icy as they shifted over my face, probably noting how red I was turning on account of the lack of air in my lungs. Why did this always happen to me? Why did she make me feel like this?

Her lips thinned just before she shifted in her seat and opened her mouth to say something but before she got the chance, the front door opened and the sound of high heeled shoes on tile made her mouth snap shut. My father put down his paper and all three of us turned our heads towards the entrance to the dining room.

“Did I miss dinner?” Paige asked, popping her head around the corner, her smile wide and a little wobbly as she teetered towards us on heels that were way too high for her. Her cheeks were red and her hair was disheveled. Her shirt was on inside out and her eye makeup was running but she still looked beautiful.

She also looked drunk.

I winced when she stumbled and used a nearby wall to steady herself as she kicked off her shoes and leaned her head back to groan in ecstasy. “Much better,” she mumbled, walking around the table towards Eleanor, planting a loud kiss on her mother’s cheek before collapsing into the chair next to her. “This looks so good,” she said, reaching out to the roast chicken slices in the centre of the table, filling her plate with mashed potatoes and covering everything with gravy.

“Paige, what do you think you’re doing?” Eleanor snapped, pulling the fork from my sister’s hand.

“Eating,” she replied with an eye roll before reaching across the table for my fork.

“You’ve been drinking,” Eleanor hissed, leaning closer to my sister, her icy gaze moving over Paige, pausing whenever something met with her disapproval.