When I wake up, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
Aria Callahan skipped down the stairs of her home towards the kitchen, stepping in time to the rhythm thrumming in her ears via her IPod Mini. As she whirled around the banister, she had to dodge nimbly out of the way to avoid hitting her mother as she walked out of the kitchen.
Her mother quickly moved to the left to allow her daughter room to pass. Any time she saw the bright blue ear bud trailing from under her daughter's hair, she knew to be careful – Aria wasn't always completely aware of her surroundings when she was in her zone.
"You know, Aria, most teenagers like to sleep in on Saturdays," Her mother chided playfully, raising an eyebrow at her daughter.
Aria shrugged, still spinning and twirling to her music. "Too much to do; how could I consider sleeping in?" She asked, bouncing her way over to the toaster, where she deposited two pieces of bread from the loaf her mom had left out. It was at this moment that her dad walked in, still in his pajamas and looking not at all as motivated to move as his daughter.
"What in the world do you have going on that requires you to get up at seven o' clock on a Saturday?" He asked while yawning. Since he worked mostly from home, and had a low-stress job, he was used to sleeping in much later than his daughter usually did. While Aria was dancing around the kitchen, fully dressed, making breakfast and singing an odd assortment of music, her father was still a pajama clad, unshaven, half-asleep mess. This was the case most mornings.
Aria shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure, but I'm certain there's something I can do that's more interesting than sleeping." The only thing she had going on today was an interview for a very prestigious academic program, but that wasn't until later that afternoon. If she got into it, she would be able to join a club that consisted of some of the top scholars in the country. It was almost guaranteed to get her into any college she wanted – not that she would be going to college any time soon.
It was at this moment her toast popped up, which she quickly grabbed and lathered thickly with strawberry jam. Her mother cringed slightly. Aria had a monstrous sweet tooth, and the amount of jam she put on her toast in the mornings… frankly there was more jam than toast.
Aria ran through a mental checklist of things she wanted to accomplish today. She was an extremely motivated individual. Top grades in all of her classes. An accomplished artist and a decent pianist. She was excellent at gymnastics, and she possessed a drive that most people would be envious of. Though she was only fourteen, she had done more things than a lot of people do before the age of thirty.
This was in part thanks to her Uncle Press. He was always taking her out on adventures – skydiving, spelunking, ice skating in the Alps, traveling the Southwest, you name it. He often challenged her to do new things. Rollerblading? She handled it like a pro. Chemistry? She had made her own fireworks for the Fourth of July using cleaning supplies, fertilizer and a few added ingredients from Home Depot. And for the record, they were way better than the Phantom Fireworks.
Uncle Press had once challenged her to learn sewing when she was nine. "But that's so boring," She had complained, expecting a greater challenge.
Press had smiled at her. "It may be boring, but it's a useful skill that not a lot of people have anymore. Back in my day…" He had trailed off, grinning as she blanched. He knew she hated stories that began with that. She used to go down to volunteer at the seniors' home nearby, and one of the people she visited always treated her to long, dry stories about how when he was her age, he would have to walk to and from school every day, barefoot, through the snow. Uphill. Both ways.
In the end she had accepted his challenge, and was now pretty decent at it. In fact, she had taken to sewing all of her clothes when they got ripped or torn. As a result, a lot of people thought she was dirt poor due to her wear-and-tear style and lack of brands. The truth was, she came from a moderately wealthy family; upper middle class, at least. She wasn't exactly a Rockefeller, but that didn't really matter to her. If she wanted books, she would go to the library. If she wanted music, she would tune into the radio, or compose something on the piano. If she wanted spending money, she would work small jobs around town, cleaning cars and taking care of pets and small children. She preferred pets since the children tended to walk all over her. The things smelled weakness like a shark smells blood.
"She's very self-sufficient," is what her parents always told people. She knew they were proud of her even if they didn't say it too often. They knew she didn't like drawing attention to herself and her accomplishments - she only ever raised her hand in class if literally no one else would answer the question. This was common, since everyone knew she would answer the question if they stayed mum long enough.
That being said, whenever she learned something that really piqued her interest (did you know that the moon crashed into the Earth some few odd billion years ago before getting caught in its gravitational field, liquefying it and causing all of the heavy metals like iron to sink to the middle? That's why Earth has a core of iron!) she loved to share it with her mom, dad, and best friends. They would often listen in utter fascination – not always because it was interesting information, but because Aria talked about it with such intense fervor that it would be difficult not to listen.
She hadn't even finished her second piece of jam-with-a-bit-of-toast before she was halfway to the door. "Buh-bye mum, dad, luff oo," She warbled out, mouth still full of breakfast. Her cat, Loki, walked past her and she reached down to stroke his back as she passed.
This time it was her dad who winced. "Love you too, hun. Don't talk with your mouth full!" It was a pet peeve of his.
She swallowed, grabbing her rollerblades and opening the door. She grinned back over her shoulder at him. "You know, you should get out today and do something fun! There's so much life has to offer. I don't know about you, but I'm going to experience as much of it as I can." She often said this to her parents, who were notorious for their lack of ambition to see the world.
With that, she disappeared out the door.
As Aria disappeared from sight, her parents looked at each other in concern. They sighed, and her mother murmured sadly, "If only you knew, sweetheart. If only you knew."
Aria rolled down the street, one ear bud playing "All that Jazz" from Chicago, the other dangling soundlessly over her right ear. She snapped her fingers to the rhythm and sang under her breath. The upbeat tune complimented her mood, and during the livelier parts of the song she really took off, spinning around and shooting down the road. When she was alone, she was motivated, happy, and quick-thinking. She was generally more subdued when she had company.
She had lived the vast majority of her life in the small town of Lumis, California. Having been homeschooled until the age of ten, she hadn't had many people to interact with other than her parents and their friends and colleagues. This heavy exposure to adults at a young age had instilled her with more maturity that most people possess until they're in their twenties. Her Uncle Press had always lectured her on the value of maturity and self-containment – right before urging her to go do something spontaneous and ridiculous.
As she rolled down the streets she had rolled down a thousand times before she contemplated what to do with her day. Go to the library? There was a new Stephen King novel she was hoping to pick up. Drop by the mall? She wasn't much of a mall rat, but she did have a favorite spot she went to in the outdoor foot court to dance. People threw her tips fairly often, and on a good day she might make twenty bucks or more. She decided against it though – not only had she not worn a good outfit for dancing, she also hadn't brought her IPod speakers. In the end she decided on the gym. She was always welcome to use their equipment, provided they were open, and she knew they were.
A bright blue scrub jay took off screeching as she rolled by, starling the other birds nearby into flight. She turned down the street that would take her to Extreme Gymnastics, waving to a few of the older folk who were out sitting on their porches or in their open garages. She was on good terms with the elderly people in her neighborhood, often stopping to chat awhile, knowing that they usually didn't get much company. It was in her nature to befriend the friendless.
She finally made it to the gym, waving at her instructor, who was currently teaching a class. She went to the locker room and quickly changed into her equipment before sauntering out onto the floor.
She did a few stretches, and then started moving around the gym, doing a bit of everything – balance beams, back flips, front flips, tightrope. That was a fun one. They had it set up over a large pit of foam cubes, so you could practice walking over higher distances without the risk of getting hurt. She was pretty good at it – she could make it the whole nine yards or so without falling. Most of the time.
She was a short, fairly slim girl. Despite her constant intake of sugary, tremendously unhealthy food she never seemed to gain any weight. She had long brown hair so dark that most people mistook it for black. Her eyes were a dazzling green, though the rings around them didn't do much to add to that. Despite what her mother had said about not sleeping in, she had gotten more sleep the previous night than she had all week. She often went to bed past midnight and got up before six for early activities at school. Sleeping in until seven was late for her.
The rings around her eyes were brought out by her pale skin. For a California girl, she wasn't at all tan, and she was in a very sunny region. This was mostly due to the fact that she spent a lot of time indoors, reading and studying. The only reason she had taken up gymnastics was because her parents were adamant that she have a regular, physical activity to keep her in shape. She had reluctantly started when she was ten, and it was now one of her favorite pastimes. Plus, the cardio helped her out whenever she went on hikes with her uncle. She had a lithe body shape, though her recent growth spurt had stretched her near the point of scrawniness.
After about two solid hours of working out, she rinsed off and headed out the back doors, waving goodbye to her instructor. He was now teaching a different class, and threw her a wave as he droned on about the importance of using the safety equipment.
She felt calm having used up the excess energy in her system, but still peppy from the endorphins. She rolled down the street again, contentedly inhaling the fresh air and listening to the Goldberg Variations. This time she headed towards one of her favorite places: the library. She always enjoyed some mental exercise following the physical sort. Besides, no one from her school would be caught dead at the library on a Saturday morning.
She wasn't the most popular girl in school. In fact, her tendency to make friends with the most odd and unpopular students had, for whatever reason, earned her the ire of Jenna Jordan.
Jenna had made her social life fairly miserable since the beginning of middle school. She was your typical, grade-A, Mean Girls type bully. She called Aria extremely rude names, spread rumors about her, and threatened to ostracize anyone who was even remotely friendly to her – you know, bully. It was because of this that Aria typically avoided places that she knew Jenna and her clique would inhabit. The library was not one of those places.
She skidded to a stop in front of the large, old, red-brick building, tied her rollerblades together, shoved them under a nearby bush, and went inside. As she did, she heard someone coming around the corner. She paused, and ducked behind one of the book shelves to see who was coming. She was one of those 'I see you before you see me' kinds of people. She thought it was a defense mechanism - every time she turned down a school corridor, she ran the risk of bumping into Jenna Jordan and her posse. Better to see than be seen. Easier to avoid unmanageable people that way.
She quickly relaxed when she saw it was just one of the librarians, Mrs. Jans. She wasn't the most pleasant woman, but she was never more unpleasant to Aria then she was to anyone else. That wasn't saying much, but at least she wasn't being sorted out for punishment. Mrs. Jans believed in equal opportunity.
Smiling at the dour librarian as she passed, she started off for the adult fiction section. She walked through the shelves, brushing her fingers along the spines of the books as she passed. From Algebraic Functions to Appreciation of Music, Physics to Philosophy, Shel Silverstein to Shakespeare, Stephen King to Stephen Hawking, nearly every subject fascinated her; even if it didn't, she often took the time to read up on it anyway if she felt it was worthwhile. You never knew what might end up being useful.
She at last got to the 'K' section under horror, and thumbed through the titles for 'King'. Although people often told her she was a bit (and by a bit they meant entirely) too young for his books, he was still her favorite author. She delighted in the thrill of a good horror story, sympathizing with King's philosophy that it was easier to read about imagined suffering than deal with one's own. With her intensely suffering social life, among…other things…she often found herself seeking the comfort only a good book could provide her.
She looked through the selection of King novels available, and was slightly disappointed to see that the book she was hoping to borrow had not yet made it onto the library's shelves. Another book did catch her eye, though, as it did at least once or twice a year.
The Shining.
Aria paused, looking at the book. Another library patron shuffled past, murmuring, "Pardon me," as they did. Aria moved slightly forward to give them more room, contemplating the black and red siding of the novel.
It was one of her favorites. It wasn't only the terrifying aspects of it that she loved (it was the scariest book she had ever read), the psychological thrill of it appealed to her as well. She had read it countless times, and every time she came to despise the dark spirit of the Overlook Hotel more and more. She found that she sympathized with Jack Torrance, whose only goal was to put his life back on track and recover from the losses he had suffered at the hands of his own volatile temper. It was the Overlook that was to blame for his failure in doing so, and she wanted nothing more than to see him triumph over its dark influence. She admired Danny and Wendy for being able to withstand both the physical and mental onslaught they were faced with. Danny's innocence versus the Overlook's domination. Good vs. evil. The ending, while satisfactory, was embittered by sorrow and loss. She wished it wasn't so, but no matter how many times she read the book, nothing changed.
Do you really expect it to? She thought this to herself every time she took the novel out to read, and the same thought was running through her mind as she brought it up to the counter.
As Aria walked to the checkout line, she noticed another book that caught her eye. Origins of Ouija. She grabbed it and brought it up along with The Shining. Mrs. Jans was running the check-out line. It was empty. As Aria handed the librarian her library card, Mrs. Jans hissed, "Again with that old thing? If you read it any more the cover will fall off!"
Aria smiled brightly. "That's alright. If it does, I'll be happy to buy the library a new copy. Maybe the one with the original cover." She preferred the original cover to the movie cover.
Mrs. Jans glared at her, stamped the release form, and handed her back the books. Aria walked out of the library with a skip in her step. She had picked up the second book for a friend of hers, whom she knew would just be waking up, seeing as it was nearly ten. Aria had decided to go visit her upon seeing that book in the library. She was totally into that sort of thing – the occult, that is. Furthermore, Aria had several hours until her appointment. Plenty of time to visit with her friend, head back to her house, change, and get to the school.
As she sat to put her roller blades back on, a shadow loomed over her. She glanced up in alarm. The man standing in front of her was considerable taller than her, with shoulder-length, messy brown hair and a long, light-brown duster. If he were a stranger she would have been alarmed.
He wasn't a stranger.
She grinned as she stood up. "Uncle Press! Long time no see." She immediately wrapped him in a hug, which he returned. Uncle Press was perhaps her favorite person in the universe. Any time she needed advice or a shoulder to cry on (not that she did much crying), he was there for her. It had been a couple of weeks since his last visit – actually, a couple of months when she thought about it.
He smiled at her and reached out to ruffle her hair teasingly. She swiped at him playfully, knowing full well that he knew full well how much she hated that. "Hey kid. How's school going?" He knew how academically oriented she was. Although she did a great deal outside of academics, she still considered it her first priority.
"Same old, same old."
"So, still top in all of your classes? Running tutoring sessions for kids four years older than you? Having teachers ask to use your papers as examples?" Aria had skipped a few grade levels. As a result, she was currently a sophomore at Del Aurum High School, while she should have just graduated junior high.
She ducked the question. Though she was proud of her intellect, she wasn't one to draw attention to her academic success. "So what brings you here? I thought you were in…where was it? Algeria? Bulgaria?"
He smiled again, but this time Aria could have sworn she saw something flash in his eyes. Sadness? Regret? Worry? She couldn't tell.
"I'm actually here because I need your help with something."
Aria blinked. Her Uncle had always been there for her, but she couldn't remember a single time when he had needed her help. Something about the way he said it – and the way his eyes had flashed – made her feel uneasy. "Sure. What's up?" If her Uncle needed her help, she would be more than happy to give it.
"There are some people who are in trouble, and we need to help them." He said, then added, "I can't do it without you."
Now she was even more confused. What people? What was so important about her? Unless they were old people, she though. She'd had a lot of experience taking care of seniors. But beyond that, she couldn't think of what he meant.
"Uh, alright…but how long will it take? I have something really important going on at four. I can't miss it." It was true. That interview could make or break her entire academic life. She had worked hard to qualify, and she was confident that she would get the spot – if she made it to her interview, that is. If not? Hasta la vista.
Press looked at her seriously. "If you come with me, you'll miss it." He looked at her sympathetically as her face fell. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't really important."
Aria knew that was true, too. Her Uncle had always come through for her. He had never once left her hanging. As important as the interview was…it wasn't as important as this. She sighed, watching a flock of brewer's blackbirds pacing around the parking lot. One of them, a female based on the brown plumage, shook itself and chirped. She took a deep breath before replying to her uncle.
"Alright. Where are we going?"
Press smiled at her a little sadly, as though he had known what her answer would be but was still hated to hear it. He spun around, taking off across the library parking lot and scattering the birds. "Stow the blades. You won't be needing them." He strode towards his mode of transportation – a sleek red motorcycle, which looked very out of place in the ramshackle lot.
She sighed, and stuffed the roller blades in the bag which held her library books. She ran after her Uncle Press, who was just getting situated on the bike. She hopped on behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He revved the engine and they took off down the street. Aria glanced back. Behind them, the birds landed again, unperturbed; their disturbance was already forgotten.
Credits: Lyrics from I Would Walk 500 Miles by the Proclaimers
Reference to The Shining by Stephen King
