twisted beautiful things

xiv. faith

xiv. faith

amir

'remember how they never showed me love?

remember when they said i'm not enough

now i pull up higher than a dove'

(bazzi).

>>>

"Amir, abn, son." In shaken awake on a Friday morning by my father, who is frowning down at me.

I roll over onto my back, yawning, but when I detected a hint of annoyance and disappointment in his expression, I bolt upright.

What did I do? I think briefly, I haven't even gotten out of bed yet.

"Dad,", I rub the dreary sleep out of my eyes, "Baba, what's wrong?"

He drags his weathered hand over his face, a gesture he only does when he's pissed off. When my sleepy eyes finally register my father's clothing, I suddenly remember that today is the day I participate with my family at the mosque. He's dressed properly in his thobe, which is reserved for Fridays. On off days, he wears more conservative clothing, but on important days like today he dons more traditional clothing. For me, he has never really insisted I wear the things he does to mosque; I normally just wear loose, conventional clothing.

"We have received a call from your school," the edge in his voice blares red sirens throughout my brain and it feels as if my stomach is swimming in guilt, although I have no idea what crime I have committed now.

"And they told us a little story about how you and your little friends set some tree on fire."

What?

What? What tree? What is he talking about?

"Do not play dumb, Amir." Father crosses his arms and takes on an intimidating stance. "I am very disappointed in you."

"What-" I sit up straighter, swinging my legs over the bed. "What tree?"

"Some symbolic tree with names carved in them."

Eyebrows shoot to the ceiling and understanding dawns on my face, prompting my father to make a noise like aha!

"So you know what I'm talking about?"

"Um...no."

I mean I know what tree he is talking about. But I don't-we didn't set it on fire, although props to whoever did it. That tree isn't a symbol of honor but rather a ploy to get sympathy and attention set on our school.

He sighs and pinches his nose. "These people think you and your friends lit a tree on fire."

"But we didn't," I mumble, limbs stretching as I lift myself off the bed, crossing the room to my closet to select out my outfit.

"They seem to think you did." He crosses his arms, dark eyes trailing my movements.

I let out an irritated sigh, searching through my closet. "Why? What evidence do they have?"

He shrugs. "A witness, I suppose, but that's not the point. Amir, you are grounded. No going out with your friends, no late nights, you will have curfew and you will attend mosque with your family every week-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," I pause my rummaging in my closet and turn to my father. "You're grounding me?"

"Yes." Dad inclines his head. "I know you are a grown man, but a grown man wouldn't do something as childish as destroying school property."