My First Day Of My Father : My Dad

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I was sixteen years old when I realized my father, Tom, was not really my father. I was at camp when I jokingly called Jed my dad and the scouts believed it. Then I thought it over and they were right. Jed was my real dad. He was already a father figure to the scouts and staff. We had the same sense of humor and we both had the same level of sarcasm toward each other. I had so much more in common with him than my so called real dad.
I met Jed on my first day of work over the summer. My first thoughts of him were, This dude needs to stop trying to talk to me. Stop trying to make me talk. I want to punch you in the face. Stop trying to make jokes, you’re not funny.
I’m not surprised I didn't like him, because I never like people when I first meet them. But I found out that my aunt told Jed that I play roller derby and it just so happens that he watches the adult team I’m going to play for. My aunt told Jed to “bother” me. So he kept up the act of trying to get me to talk for the first few weeks. We got really close over the summer, so I invited him to my scrimmage on August 26.
During halftime I spotted him in the crowd. I skated over to my mom.
“My dad’s here,” I said.
“Where?” she asked.
“Right there,” I said as point at him. “Wanna go meet him?”
I skated, while my mom walked, over to Jed. He had his back to us.
“What’s good dad?” I asked.
He turned around and we locked eyes. He then looked over at my mom, smiled and said hi. I introduced them to each other and

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