The next day at school in homeroom, I was talking to Ski and she was telling me how she had talked to her parents about her biological parents.
"They told me they were really good friends with my parents, but my parents just couldn't keep me, so my parents that adopted me took me in and, well, adopted me. They had never told me fully how I was adopted. But I don't know my biological parents' names or anything," she shrugged, "the only real thing I know about them is that they were friends of my adoptive parents."
"Wow. And I'm really sorry about pouting because I don't know my dad. You don't know either of your parents, and you aren't complaining as much as I am," I looked at my hands.
"But you should've heard me last night. I was begging my parents to tell me more about my biological parents. They were getting really annoyed with me," she sighed, "but I really want to know more about my parents. Maybe someday I'll meet them."
"Maybe someday I'll meet my dad," I smiled.
"Maybe.. Just maybe. I hope I'm not meeting my parents, like, when they're about to die or something."
"That would be terrible. I can't imagine meeting someone you've been waiting so long to meet, and soon after, they die."
"But at least you'd get to meet him," Ski shrugged. I nodded, agreeing with her.
Later that day, before band when Ski and I were walking into the music room together, Mr. Irwin stopped us and asked, "has anyone ever told you two that you look a lot alike? I mean, a lot.." He laughed.
"We spend a lot of time together and even though it's not a scientific fact, I've heard that when you spend a lot of time with someone, you start to look like them," I smiled, looking at Ski.
"Hm," he shrugged, looking back down at his papers.
We started soon after that, and I was sitting right next to Ski since the trumpet section was right next to the saxophone section.
"Ski Dove Robinson!" I exclaimed quietly, laughing at her. She giggled a little bit at her joke, and we began to play our one song that we had already started working on for our concert.
We worked on correcting a lot of the things in our one song, so much that we had worked until the bell to leave rang. We had to rush around to get our instruments in our cases, put away our stands, and get our music together.
"You guys don't have to rush too much. I'll call the teachers and tell them I kept all of the band kids late," Mr. Irwin announced to all of the stressing kids.
"Thank god," I muttered to Ski.
I grabbed my saxophone case and music, put them in the band closet, then put my stand away and walked to my locker with Ski, whose locker was right next to mine. Since my first name would be alphabetically towards the end of the R's (because of the y right after the r), it would be right next to the S's at the lockers, which was what Ski was in. There weren't many other kids with S names at our school, so Ski was right next to me.
I left to English, and Ski left to Chem. Today, for some reason, I just couldn't wait until English was over. I never felt that way. I had no idea why I was thinking that. I just wanted to get to chorus, I guess. I think I liked Mr. Irwin as a teacher too much.
When I got into chorus, I was happy again, and I was singing out loudly. Sometimes, I was singing too loudly because Ski had to tell me to be quieter. I just laughed a little and got quieter.
The chorus period went by quickly, and we left for lunch after it ended. I took Ski with me into the lunch line, and we sat by each other like always.
"So are you excited about maybe having a solo in Silent Night?" Ski smiled at me, asking a simple question that had a simple answer.
"Definitely," I nodded, "I hope I get the solo."
"I know you will. Mr. Irwin really seems to like you, both your personality and your musical talent and abilities. You've got this solo for sure," she looked me right in the eyes.
"I don't know. There are quite a few other really good singers up for the solo. You know some of the people up for the solo? Ha-"
"I know who's up for the solo. You definitely will beat them, though. This is Mr. Irwin we're talking about, though. You're his favorite. I can tell in his eyes and by his facial expressions when he listens to you sing. He really likes your voice. I don't blame him."
"My mum tells me that I get my voice from my dad since she says hers is terrible," I laughed a little. My mum's voice is terrible.
"Whoever you got your voice from, it's amazing, and it's going to get you that solo, for sure."
"Whatever," I shrugged and began to open my milk carton and drink, looking around the lunchroom.
The rest of the day, I was able to focus better than I was the days before. I still thought about my mum's secret from me (my dad) and how I didn't know if I would ever know.
I wrote a lot better in creative writing, though, and did more in gymnastics. I could ask my mum once again? Maybe I shouldn't. I'll find out about my dad when my mum is ready to tell me. If that never happens, I wasn't meant to know him or meet him. I'll just let it at that.
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My Dad is My Teacher // a.f.iFanfiction
Rylie Jensen has grown up with it being just her and her mum. She's never known her dad, that is, until he shows up at her school as the new band director and chorus director. Mr. Irwin becomes Rylie's favorite teacher, but she doesn't know he is he...