• When I woke up this morning, I figured everything would go the same way as every other school day.


    And how wrong I was.


    I guess I should start with a little debriefing of my school, and what this little story centers around.


    I'm in eighth grade, and tomorrow marks the start of Thanksgiving Break (thank the lord). There is one teacher I looked up to, and respected, more than any other one. That would be my former science teacher, Mr. Rouhler. He was a great teacher, never discluding anyone, always making sure we took pride in out work...etc. He was flawed in only one small way, as a matter of fact I didn't count it as a flaw at all. On the same day every year, he would just stare into space, looking forlorn, and helpless, always the day before Thanksgiving, and none of the students were ever told why.

    So now that you know that, I do believe you're ready for our story.

    Monday rolled around, and as everyone groaned, and walked into school with dismay, they were almost pleased to see the chaos among
    teachers (actually some students tried to cause that everyday). However this chaos was relvolving around a paticular student, with an air of mystery about him. He went by the name of Tim, and I was lucky enough (being the principles daughter and straight A student) to be his "tour guide" so to speak.
    He was very likeable though, and throughout the day I became more and more mystified by him.

    He hadn't moved to our town with his family, but with an orphanage and his awful foster parents, who moved every few months. He told me he suspected they were some kind of criminals, on the run, and I told him that that sounded ridiculous. "I know, I know.."he said, "but I can't help wonder sometimes Em, I can't help wonder."

    Thursday came, and once again, you could start to see the look on my favorite teacher's face. It came to my attention that Tim was always giving Mr. Rouhler weird looks, so I decided to bring it up. "Do you not like him or something?" I queried.
    "No, no,"he replied,"I was just thinking of...some things."
    "Like what?"
    "Will you promise not to tell anyone?"
    "Of course."
    "The truth is...I think he's my dad."
    "WHAT???"
    "Shhhhhhh."
    "Sorry, but how is that possible, I mean, his three other sons, they're already in college!"
    "Ya, but there was this picture I found in my old stuff, that was left with me when I was a baby...there is a picture of me (as a baby) three other boys, and a mom, and a dad that looks just like him. My foster parents don't know I have it. And just for the record, I know their criminals, and I have the scars to prove it."

    To be continued rofl

    I will post the link to chapter two when I write it.