Imperfectly Perfect

Seven

I sit in chemistry third period. The scene of my dad and I this morning plays in my head with the angry that drums along with it. how could he be so cruel? It's like I'm a failure to him now just because of one screw up. Just one. I'm sixteen and I haven't failed a test since I was twelve. I think that's pretty damn impressive. My phone vibrates inside my back pocket. I usually leave it in my bag during school, but today I thought maybe Alex would text me, and I was right.
'Hey it's Alex, meet me after school behind the school, I know it kind of sounds sketchy, but I noticed you didn't have your track bag with you this morning so I figured you're not going and you don't want your coach to see you because then he'll ask why your not showing up.'
'How did you know I did track?' I respond and don't have to wait long for an answer.
'I've seen you practicing before and I've heard a little bit about you. ;-)'
'From who? What does that mean?' I feel myself blushing. I blush way too much.
'Just around. Don't worry about it.'

But I do. I have no idea what people say about me, but I'm assuming it's not all good things considering I barely talk to anybody besides Marybeth and a couple girls on the track team. I am always wondering what other people think of me. maybe I could get Alex to tell me