Tomorrow
942 Words
By the time we finished unloading the truck, the sun had already begun to disappear behind the trees.
My arms felt like jelly.
Dad dropped another box onto the living room floor and groaned dramatically.
"I officially regret owning so many books."
I looked over at the mountain of boxes stacked near the staircase.
"Eighty percent of those are yours."
"They're reference books."
"They're books."
"They're educational."
"They're heavy."
"They're important."
"They're staying downstairs."
He pointed a finger at me.
"I raised a smartass."
"You raised an honest one."
He laughed.
"You get that from your mother."
The words settled between us gently.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
There were still days when mentioning Mom felt like touching an old scar.
It didn't hurt the way it used to.
But you always knew it was there.
Dad cleared his throat.
"Go upstairs."
"What?"
"Go."
"We still have boxes."
"They'll still be here tomorrow."
"I can help."
"You already did."
He smiled.
"Go see your room."
I didn't need to be told twice.
The stairs creaked exactly the way they always had.
Second step.
Fourth step.
Skip the sixth unless you wanted the loud squeak.
Some things never changed.
I smiled.
My bedroom door stood half open.
For some reason...
I hesitated.
It felt silly.
It was only a room.
But somehow...
Opening that door felt like reopening a chapter of my life I thought had ended forever.
I slowly pushed it open.
The smell hit me first.
Old wood.
Fresh paint.
Clean linen.
Sunlight spilled through the window, filling the room with warm gold.
Someone had repainted the walls.
The faded lavender Mom had chosen years ago was gone.
Now they were a soft cream.
Different.
But still...
Mine.
I walked over to the window.
The same view.
Mrs. Nolan's garden.
The giant oak tree.
The sidewalk where Celeste and I used to race our bikes.
The streetlight Maddox somehow climbed when he was twelve because someone dared him to.
He got grounded for two weeks.
Worth it, according to him.
I laughed quietly to myself.
"I missed you."
I wasn't sure if I meant the room...
Or the memories.
My old bookshelf still stood against the wall.
Empty.
Waiting.
Just like the room itself.
I knelt beside one of the smaller boxes and pulled out a framed photograph.
Seven kids.
One summer afternoon.
Celeste had somehow convinced all of us to wear matching blue shirts because she wanted us to look like "a real friend group."
Maddox hated every second of it.
Cassian looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.
I couldn't stop smiling.
We looked so...
Happy.
I gently ran my thumb across the glass.
"You guys better still be this weird."
A soft knock came from the doorway.
Dad leaned against the frame.
"Find anything interesting?"
"Our fashion choices were criminal."
He laughed.
"I remember that day."
"I can't believe you let us leave the house dressed like that."
"I thought it was adorable."
"It was embarrassing."
"It'll be embarrassing forever."
I smiled.
"You know..."
He folded his arms.
"I don't think I've seen you this excited in years."
"I know."
He became unusually quiet.
"I've missed this smile."
I looked down.
"So have I."
He walked over and rested a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm proud of you."
"For what?"
"For never letting all those moves make you bitter."
I shrugged.
"What would've been the point?"
"I don't know."
His voice softened.
"A lot of people would've given up trying to make friends."
"I never stopped believing I'd come back."
"You always believed that."
"I had to."
I looked around the room one more time.
"This place reminds me who I am."
Dad squeezed my shoulder gently.
"Don't ever let anyone take that away from you."
I frowned.
"What a strange thing to say."
He blinked.
Then smiled.
"Guess I'm feeling philosophical today."
"Liar."
"I have no idea what that word means."
I laughed.
"You're impossible."
"I learned from the best."
He headed toward the door before stopping.
"Oh."
"What?"
"School starts at eight."
"I know."
"Try not to stay up until three in the morning unpacking."
"I make no promises."
"You never do."
He disappeared downstairs.
I looked back at the room.
The silence felt peaceful.
Comfortable.
I unpacked a few books.
Placed my favorite novel on the shelf.
Set the old photograph on my bedside table.
Hung my jacket inside the closet.
Little by little...
The room started looking lived in again.
Started looking like mine.
By the time I finished, the sky outside had turned deep blue.
I changed into pajamas, climbed beneath the blankets, and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow.
The word echoed through my mind like a promise.
Tomorrow I'd see Celeste.
Tomorrow I'd surprise Maddox.
Tomorrow I'd finally talk to Cassian again.
Tomorrow everything would go back to the way it was.
I smiled to myself.
Maybe I'd been afraid for nothing.
Maybe friendship really could survive time.
Maybe people really did wait for you.
Sleep slowly pulled me under.
The last thing I remember thinking was how lucky I was.
How unbelievably lucky.
Years later...
People would ask me when my life fell apart.
Most of them guessed it happened the day I walked back into Blackridge High.
They were wrong.
My life didn't fall apart that morning.
It fell apart the night before...
Because that was the last night I went to sleep believing the world was full of people who loved me.
When I closed my eyes, I still believed tomorrow was bringing me home.
I had no idea...
Tomorrow was bringing me to my execution.
- Writer
