Finding Light {I}

I don't believe in fate. I don't believe that our lives are written in the stars or we're destined to find someone or something one day that makes everything make sense. I believe that life is chaotic and unexpected. I don't believe that our actions every day influence the rest of our lives. I do believe however, that on May first of 2005, I chose my destiny. If there's such a thing. And this is the story of how I found myself in a chaotic world that I didn't understand, but that I loved with everything in me.

I.

The smell of old books rose from my old copy of the Call of the Wild. I'd found it in the back of a second chance store, the price faded yellow like the price sticker. I'd been entranced by the paper cover that was cracked and ripped, enchanted by the smell of history between its pages. Whether or not I believe in fate, I do believe that books find you when you are in most desperate need of them. It was after I read Call of the Wild for the first time that I decided officially to run away. So I packed up my books and MP3 player, and hopped on the next train to adventure. And here I was, sitting on a train I didn't even know the destination of, holding a book that was at least fifty years old and only just beginning to understand the concept of alone. Because I was, very alone. Everyone on the train had someone with them, someone to keep me company. I only had the excitement of the unknown and books to keep me company. I couldn't decided whether it was nice or scary.

It was odd to sit in silence, not to hear the chatter of my sisters or the sound of next door having another domestic. It was odd to not have dishes to wash or a meal to cook. It was odd to be free. I took a deep breath and savored the smell of the sweat scented train, the book in my hand and of heady freedom. Above my head, the speaker crackled to life with an announcement. "This is the last stop, folks. Brinston."

I had gotten as far away as I could, and the idea of leaving the train for a place I'd never been was even scarier than boarding the train in the first place. The loud screeching squeal of the train's wheels coming to a stop flooded my ears and I stood up, swinging my backpack over my shoulder. People filed out of the aisles towards the doors, and I followed the crowd, losing myself in early morning commuters and night shift workers on their way home. The morning sun followed me onto the train platform, singing praises for being brave enough to leave. Or stupid enough. What was I going to do? I was still clutching the Call of the Wild, and I rubbed my fingers over the cracked spine to give me some comfort. The town I had been deposited in was sleepy, so different from the pushy sounds of New York. The few people who had left the train with me had disappeared, and I was all alone, standing on a train platform with very little money and a book from the 1900s. Just as I was about to go ask the ticket master if happened to know where there was a cheap place to stay, a girl popped into my line of vision.

Her long red hair was in a messy pony tail, and she had big hazel eyes that stared out of round owl glasses. "You look lost," she commented, her fingers tugging at the threads on the ends of her sweatshirt.

"That's 'cause I am." I said, scanning her up and down. Seventeen years living in an unsafe neighborhood had taught me how to know when people were threats, and this girl with a little impish grin was not a threat. I relaxed my grip on my book and backpack strap.

"Let me guess," she said, beginning to walk through the train station (I followed without knowing why) "you're a runaway and you chose Briston to be the first stop on your adventure."

"How'd you know?"

"You look like the type to runaway. Do you have a place to stay?" I shook my head, and continued following her onto the street beyond the train station.

"No, actually."

"Well," she said, crossing the street and throwing open a store's door without bothering to hold it open for me. "I have the perfect place for you to stay--if you're planning to stay long term?" She looked at me expectantly, and I shrugged. Taking that as a yes, she continued chattering. "There's a lovely family that lives about five miles outside town. The son is absolutely gorgeous--our age--you're seventeen aren't you?" That prompts a nod from me. "Good, anyway, they're looking for someone to help around the house and babysit and live with them. An au pair of sorts. They have a farm and there's buckets of chores to be done, and there's only Puck to help--"

"They have a son named Puck?"

"Well kind of, it's his nickname, everyone calls him that. His real name is Ian--but when you meet him you'll see that Puck just fits him. Anyway, you are exactly what they need. If I wasn't completely in love with my boyfriend Nate I'd totally go for Puck, but I think he'd just be perfect for you,--what's your name?"

"Avery. But everyone calls me Laney."

"Well Avery, I'm sorry, I can't call you Laney, that's just stupid--no offense-- you and Puck would be absolutely adorable." While she was talking, she'd went behind the counter of the little grocery story and started sorting through receipts. Her mouth was moving a mile a minute, and I watched in a weird fascination that she could talk so much. "Oh, by the way, my name is Aria. Do you smoke, Avery?"

I shook my head, and she grinned. "Oh well that's good. Puck hates that I do, and I do too, it's a nasty habit, but I'm full of nasty habits and I doubt that smoking will kill me." Before I could open my mouth to say actually smoking can kill you, she was picking up the phone on the wall. "I'll take you to the Robinson's house as soon as I finish this," she said, waving her hand at the pile of recipets on the counter. "Unless Marc will cover for me, then we can leave right away." She dialed a number on the phone without looking and shouted in the direction of the doorway "Marc, can you cover me?"

A disgruntled mumble was all she received in reply, but that seemed to satisfy her. She turned to me, the phone tucked under her chin. "I cover for him whenever he comes home stoned or drunk or both--Hi, Mrs. Robinson!" Aria turned away from me and started chatting with the woman on the under end, still talking with lightening speed.

I took this as an opportunity to start exploring the store, walking up the aisles of toilet paper and laundry detergent. There was a bakery case in the back, full of yummy looking pies, cupcakes and cookies. There was no one at the counter, or I would have bought a giant chocolate chip cookie. While I was examining the hand written notes with exotic names for the pies, Aria hopped up, holding a case of cigarettes and car keys. "Let's go, Avery, and meet the best people you'll ever speak too."

I followed her out of the store and to an old Ford truck. The blue paint was chipping and there were dents and scratches all over it. Aria swung into the driver's seat, starting the engine before I even had time to open the door. "You're a slow mover," she commented, turning up the radio and pulling out of the parking spot with a bumpy jerk. I didn't comment back, just held onto the door in case I needed to make a quick escape. If the dents in the sides were any indication, she was not the best driver ever. "So, Avery," she said, turning to look at me and not the road. "What's your story?"

"My story? I ran away from a remarkably boring place to go and seek the great perhaps-"

"Don't tell me, a Looking for Alaska quote?"

"You've read it?" I asked, thinking about how my hard back copy was sitting in the backpack at my feet.

"Have I read it? Of course I've read it. I fancy myself Alaska Young. Nate is Pudge, of course. And Puck can be the Colonel. Does that make you--"

"You realize I haven't met Puck yet, and you've already made us a couple, right?" I asked.

"Of course! That's the fun. Watching you two realize you're perfect for each other and then taking credit." I sighed. Already, I knew that arguing with Aria was pointless. She swerved around the road while trying to light a cigarette, her fingers trembling slightly. Once it was lit, she rolled down the window and let the white cylinder hang from her long fingers. "Mrs. Robinson is literally the sweetest woman alive," Aria told me, as she drove with break neck speed down a dirt road. "She and Mr. Robinson have three children. Puck, the Carolina, who's at boarding school. They're really proud of her, she's pursing her dream of becoming an artist. And then, little Anne. You'll love her. She's only four, and she's the best human being alive."

She took a sharp right turn and I flew up off my seat as we skipped over pot holes. She didn't apologize or try to dodge them, just continued driving, taking puffs off her cigarette. "I know what you might be thinking," she said, taking another neck breaking turn. "But just because I smoke doesn't mean I'm into partying. I hate partying. I hate drinking. I hate alcohol. So please don't think too badly of me. I only like Grape Mountain Wine and it taste like fake grape jam and fire. It's terrible. Which might be me trying to metaphorical, but who cares. Anyway, we have to stop and pick up my boyfriend, Nate. You'll like him, even if he can be mean." She screeched to a stop in a driveway she almost passed she was going so fast, and leaned against the horn.

A screen door slammed, and then a dark haired, dark skinned boy was jogging from around the house and towards the truck. Aria didn't let off the horn till he was even with her door. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hi," he said, ignoring me and hopping into the back of the truck.

"Nate, this is my new friend Avery. She says you can call her Laney, but I'm not going to do it."

Nate, who seemed used to his girlfriend's ways lifted a hand and mumbled a hello. I smiled and said hello back, turning to face the road. Aria slammed out of the driveway, gunning the engine and zooming back onto the dirt road. Nate was holding onto his door too.

"So you're going to work for the Robinsons?" Nate asked me.

"I guess," I replied, practically shouting over the music playing on Aria's stereo.

Before Nate could ask anything else, Aria held up both hands. "Both of you shush and listen to this song." We did as she asked, and sat there listening to the loud, chaotic noise of some punk band. "Isn't it lovely?" she asked.

"Sure," Nate and I both replied at the same time. I grinned at him in the review mirror, and he winked. Maybe Brinston wouldn't be so bad, I thought. It'd certainly be exciting, if Aria's driving was any indication.