Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

My Teacher's Daughter

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I first saw her at the Brass Festival. She wandered into the room where trombone master classes were held; the blue and white stripes of her brother’s shirt stretched taut over the contours and curves of her body. Over her shapely legs were boot-cut jeans, and her black sneakers were knotted tightly with skull laces. Beside her walked a tall, lanky, flame-haired boy, chattering away. Too far away to go speak with the lovely princess, I stayed in my plastic seat near the back of the room. With a flip of her short blonde hair, she dragged the boy to a corner by the wall-length windows. In the sunlight that shone through the panes of glass that stretched from the ceiling to the tiled floors, she looked akin to a divine Goddess.

As the class started, I found that even the greatest trombonist in the world – Joseph Alessi – couldn’t hold my attention for more than mere seconds; this girl without make-up was a magnet to my eyes, and soon the seat I sat upon was wet. She whispered excitedly with her friend, her bare lips revealing perfect teeth, and the two acted like young girls sharing a secret. My heart gave a lurch every time she smiled at him; I feared that they were a couple. A sigh escaped from my mouth, ragged and full of breath. Every moment I gazed upon her was like a year, a mere hour was an eternity.

Quite suddenly, I realized that Mr. Alessi was calling my name in an exasperated voice. Blushing, I quickly stood up and rushed to the front of the room. Mr. Alessi gave me a slow, gentle smile, as if he understood the thoughts that were racing through my mind. I gave a nervous grin back, wondering just how many times he had called for me. But there was no time for curious questions; I had an excerpt from a solo to play for the master class. A quick glance at the girl revealed her writing something on the boy’s folder, and he gave a soft chuckle. Then I played.

I do not remember how well I did, only that as soon as I finished the girl was the first to clap. Her green-and-hazel eyes rested intently on me, and I became conscious of how stiff I was. I missed the first part of instruction Mr. Alessi gave me, and when I finally looked back to him, his kind old eyes were laughing. To be honest, I don’t even remember the advice he had given me, only that he understood my un-attentive listening. When he finally dismissed me back to my seat, I was redder than my short hair. The young Goddess saw me, even noticed me. I dared not turn my eyes in her direction, at least until the end of class.

Next came the sectionals. All trombones were herded onto the large, open stage of Skidmore’s miniscule music building. With the group spilt into three parts, the girl was separated from her friend. As I watched her gracefully open her case, I noticed the size of her instrument. It was a bass trombone, glittering in the light of the room. I gaped at her, the first female I had ever seen to play such an apparatus. She lovingly placed to pieces together, carefully twisting the nut that held the bell and slide. The way she held her trombone was with gentle elegance, a charmingly simple beauty grasping shining metal in such a way that the entire room was reflected in it. Lightly, her hands ran over the tubing and the valves. And I walked right into a wall.

Then my teacher walked onto the stage, the floorboards creaking as he stepped. Not to say he’s overweight, but a little portly. He called us to attention, and the 50-odd trombonists, young and old alike, raced about as little ants to find a seat. I was near the boy, and too far from the girl. She played the third part, while I was on the second. Attempting to focus on the bearded man in front of the group, I felt her gaze on me for a moment. Quickly, I turned to face her. For whatever reason, she looked away from me. I thought I saw the slightest blush upon her freckled cheeks. My heart pounded, it was a miracle no one heard it; this new seat was also damp within moments.

After sectionals, the boy came up to me and introduced himself as Cai. He begged me to eat lunch with him. I tactfully asked who that girl was; he said that she was the teacher’s daughter. Gasping, I spun away from his lean form, swiftly returning my own trombone to its case. Minutes later, Cai was back, this time with a boy half his size named Adam. They asked if I wished to eat with them, and I complied. Somehow, my heart raced all the faster as I heard the two talking about the princess, the teacher’s oldest daughter. Then Cai grabbed my shoulder with spindly fingers and told me in a raspy voice that the girl – Erika – thought I was cute. I stumbled slightly, barely breathing. Adam gave a cruel laugh and said that was nasty, that Erika was the strangest of girls with the strangest of tastes in guys. In a moment, I gave the same response.

Erika. That was the name of the gorgeous young lady, the daughter of my teacher. She had stolen my heart, and I dared to hope that she felt the same about me. What Cai had told me I believed completely. Now I simply had to keep him and Adam from discovering my love.

We ate quickly, hardly a word passing between the three of us. Shortly after he finished, Cai leaped from his chair and started towards the other side of the room. Adam pointed to wear he was headed: the girl Erika, and another boy. Cai was soon back, and he said that she wanted him to talk to me. I was flabbergasted, and even more so when she walked partway across the room with this other dark-haired boy and pointed at me. She blushed as she turned and walked off, my eyes following the swish of her rear with each step. As I stared, Adam and Cai began to laugh, and I realized they were laughing at me. They knew my secret longing.

They knew, so they started to tease me about her. “Go talk with her.” “Don’t worry; if Mr. M comes we’ll distract him!” “Come on! You know you want her.” All I could do was blush and stare. Her body twisted in surprise as yet another boy walked up to her. The stiffness I had felt for most of the morning began to lessen as I saw her laughing at something he said. Jealousy breached the walls of my heart, and I desperately thought that all my chances were lost; either one of those dashing boys could be hers. I might never be hers. But I wanted to be hers.

“Let’s get going, rehearsal will start in a few minutes.” I stood up and pushed in my chair. Cai lead us past her; she glanced at me briefly, and the stiffness returned. Without a second look, I followed my new friends out of the cafeteria and back across the snow-covered campus. Back onto the stage of Skidmore, back to my pitifully poor instrument. Shortly after I sat at my stand, Erika entered the room. She was alone, apparently having lost the two boys. I nearly got up to speak with her, but as I did I became painfully aware of how noticeable my body was; how silly I looked in concert clothes, and how wonderful she looked.

The blur of rehearsal, with me sitting just behind her, passed in but a minute. Then the group was told to sit in the seats of the auditorium while the New York Philharmonic Brass Quintet answered questions. Cai asked Erika to sit with him, placing me between himself and her. I glanced at her, she was acting fairly indifferent. This worried me, but all the time I was stiffening. She was so close, so close to me. Yet how could I say anything when her father was two rows behind us? Too soon we were called back to rehearsal. Her pretty form sat just ahead of me, I couldn’t tear my eyes from her.

Dinner was immediately after, and, to my enjoyment, Erika joined our mini-group of boys. Half-way there, Adam and Cai began to run, so I ran after. She couldn’t keep up, not in the snow and her sneakers. I fell behind when I realized she was distraught. Clutching her throat, she was panting and close to crying. My heart lurched again; I was worried for her. Noticing my concerned looks, she explained that running in the cold hurt her. Then she said she was glad I had come back to walk with her. Once again, I began to blush; the fact of which was soon hidden by Adam and Cai running from behind us. Erika screamed and jumped toward me, then yelled at them all sorts of dreadful curses. I laughed beside her, hardly believing who it was that walked beside me.

The next 15 minutes were a rush of laughter, pranks, and sitting across from the most beautiful Goddess in the world. After the meal, the four of us quickly walked back to the music building. Erika disappeared for a few minutes, and came back in concert clothing. She looked wonderful, with knee-high boots, black corduroys and a button-down, translucent shirt. The perfect picture of a princess.

After Adam and Cai returned from changing, we began a game of hide-and-seek. Eventually, Erika and I were alone on the third floor, racing down the halls to find an arch to hide under. I was closer to the hall, she was pressed against the wall beside me. Suddenly, she turned and looked over me and around the corner of our crevice. Her substantial body briefly rubbed against me; I took a quick breath and leaned my head against the wall. She hardly noticed my comfortable awkwardness, then ran across the hallway to a practice room. It was a dark, tiny room, barely big enough for the grand piano that rested in its center.
Moonlight filtered down on her as she sat on the black bench before the gray-scale keys. I softly closed the door and sat next to her; wishing I could think up some quirky, wonderful statement to show her my feelings. Just as I was preparing to ask her what her number was, she whispered for me to not speak and hand her my phone. I placed my phone in her prettily polished hands, and then shuddered as the other boys ran by the room. They never noticed us; all the lights were off and we were careful to not make any noises.
Then she suggested we go over to the wall, that if they opened the door they most likely wouldn’t see us; I concurred and she took my hands and led me to the corner. Holding hands and pressed against the wall, she murmured in my ear that wouldn’t it be hilarious if when they found us we were doing something awkward? Something like kissing? I gasped; this took me by surprise. After my nod, she asked if I knew how to fake make out. Finding my voice, I told her no, I didn’t.
She put her hands against the sides of my face and leaned in. Like a fool, I went to actually kiss her. Pausing, she asked if I just wanted to really kiss. My answer was to kiss her; kiss her full on the mouth. Short of breath, she kissed me back. And for the next hour, we were one; my hands running across her back and squeezing and pulling where I could. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer, closer.
We were never found.



Join the Discussion


This article has 2 comments. Post your own!

SimoneSimon said...
today at 6:56 am:
thnx!!!!  <33
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
f_logic said...
yesterday at 5:56 pm:
this is amazing.... like oh my goodness. <3
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Site Feedback