Page 2 of Imperfection is Beauty

I had the treasurer for my dad’s club, and one of my pseudo uncles, Hyde, read them over to make sure they were good and they were accurate.

Hyde wasn’t just the treasurer because he was good with numbers. Oh no, he was the treasurer because he could have gone toMIT, he could have been working forNASA,he was that smart.

But… he wanted to be free.

No laws.

No chains.

He never told me why, just that he didn’t.

And with the men of the Immoral Saints MC, you learned to listen to them, and not push them.

But, back to my thoughts as I stand here against the brick wall that’s almost as tall as I am, and that’s saying something since I’m only five feet and three inches on a good day.

The principal had read my essays when I brought them to him and asked Ms. Mewker why she had graded my essays like that. And she tried to lie.

But wouldn’t you know, the principal had witnessed my dad turning her down when I was running late after school?

The principal hadn’t missed the glare nor the sneer as I had climbed on the back of my dad’s bike, and we rode away.

Ouch!

Crapola.

I brought my hand up and rubbed the back of my head.

Yes, I am a klutz.

Let’s get that all out there and in the air.

Yes, I just lifted my head, forgetting I was leaning against the brick wall as I had studied the marks on my white high-top Converse when someone had stepped on them in the hall.

Now, back to why they all treated me like that; in case you missed it, let me clarify for you. And that only needs one sentence.

My dad is a part of a motorcycle club.

See! That’s the only sentence you need to explain the way they all acted.

And just as I thought that… I heard that oh-so-heavenly rumble of pipes.

My dad was here.

What I didn’t know, well, that was because I was still rubbing the back of my head... He had seen it.

He had a smile on his face as he parked in front of me, then yelled out, “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”

I snorted, then nodded, “Yep!”

My dad shook his head, jerked his chin up at me, then shouted, “Come on.”

Because no way was he going to turn his bike off and disrupt the teachers and students finishing with last-minute stuff when he made his kitten purr. His words. Men…

Once I made it to him, I wanted to snort at what happened next.

I had just thrown my leg over when I heard Cami, the head cheerleader, say, “Hey, Stacy’s dad.”

My dad looked over his shoulder, then snorted, “Really?”

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