Maroon Nights | A Short Story [COMPLETE]

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The rest of the day felt very, very long. When I got home from church, Mama made sure I did my few hours of violin practice and then sent me to my room to keep studying. The last part I wasn't so opposed to considering I hadn't studied any that morning like I had told them I had and I didn't want to get behind on my work. I really didn't need a chastisement this week for not being "diligent" enough in my school work even though it was summer.

As I sat down on my bed with my school books and a fat Five Star multiple subject notebook, I heaved an exasperated sigh, my bangs flipping up wildly. I really didn't feel like studying though I knew I needed to.

I flipped to the right page in my Hamlet book and opened my notebook to where my comprehensive essay was scrawled across five college ruled pieces of paper. The margins and spaces were covered in scribbles and edits, things that I needed to change in order to make it perfect. I needed to review it one more time because I knew that my father would read it before I turned it in. He had a sharper and more critical eye than even my AP Literature teacher.

I found a pencil in my nightstand drawer and got to work. It was tedious and annoying to pick out all of my flaws, but necessary, I knew.

But after about thirty minutes, my hand was already starting to cramp and I was only four paragraphs in. I dropped my pencil, letting it roll off my notebook onto my white comforter.

My backpack caught my eye from where it sat next to my dresser, slightly saggy from being almost empty. But there was one thing in there; my Bible.

I bit my lip contemplatively. I rarely read when my parents were home. It made me too nervous. But I hadn't read any today and it sounded better than homework. Way better.

Listening to make sure all the talking and footsteps were downstairs, I climbed from my bed and dug out my little hand-sized Bible. I plopped back down on my bed and flipped to Philippians where I was reading. I was currently on chapter four, and thought the writing was so beautiful and inspiring.

I started to flip the thin page after reading a few verses, when a yell startled me. "Rebecca!"

I perked up, my heart starting to race. At first I thought my mother would just yell at me to ask whatever question she had, but that wasn't her style. When I heard her light footsteps tapping down the hall outside my door, I panicked, shoving my Bible under my sheets, most likely crinkling the pages.

Just after it was shoved deep under my comforter, my mother burst through the door, her eyes landing on me.

I swallowed but tried to hide it with a grin. "Yes, Mama?"

"Are you almost done with your paper? Baba wants to read it soon."

I suppressed a sigh. I know he does, Mama. "I'm finishing my edits..." I fiddled with my pencil, avoiding her gaze.

She watched me for a moment, sensing my awkwardness. I was afraid she would think I was hiding something, because I was, so I met her eyes once again, trying not to fidget with my bangs that tickled my eye lashes. "Anything else?"

Her eyes roamed over my school work, double checking that that was what I was really doing. She must have convinced herself my weird behavior was her imagination because she slowly shook her head. "No. Just don't be late for dinner." And then she turned and closed my door behind her.

I exhaled in relief, waiting until I couldn't hear her walking anymore before gently digging my Bible out of my bed covers. The soft leather cover had folded back slightly, wrinkling the opening page that read, To Bec from Cam. I hope this brings a bit of peace. It was written in his familiar choppy handwriting that took a good squint to read but still made me smile. It was like he knew of my dreams, longing for a world where the impossible excited.