Chapter 1
I’m so excited that, after having passed a multitude of entry tests, I’ll finally start my very first year at university. I recently just moved here in Stanford all alone; my family stayed back in New York City and are paying my Uni from there. I heard all sorts of stories about this city but I never could’ve imagined it to be so luxurious and organized! It’s absolutely stunning. I can barely get ahold of myself; my hands are shaking as I write this. This excitement... I can barely hold it in. It makes me want to climb on the roof of my two-room apartment and scream from the top of my lungs. I needed this, this change: my life hasn’t been much so far but I can feel it, I feel like my life has begun anew. As I turn my head towards the window I can see it: the world is out there and mine for the taking but... wait a second I still haven’t introduced myself, how stupid. My name is Arianna Timbered, 19 years old and currently living in Stanford, home to one of the best universities in America. My dad, a Marine met my mother on a mission to Italy where they got married and went to live in New York City, the land of hopes and dreams back then. My mom was a humble barista in a restaurant, La Locusta, often frequented by Marines as it was located near the camp daddy worked in. They married in 1993 after two years of knowing each other, went to live in Las Vegas for one year and had me there in 1995 after my mom went big after winning five hundred million dollars in cash at the 7 star hotel and Casino ‘Crystal Casino’. From there, we three moved back into New York and lived in one of the most expensive houses up until, well, this year for me. With my dad’s brains, my parents later invested most of the money in an oil company in Mexico and made those five hundred million multiply like mushrooms would in a damp forest. Even though I’ve been growing up as one of the richest kids in the world, I’ve always kept my mom’s humbleness and respect towards others and made it my lifestyle, my parents also made sure not to spoil me too much. Since birth I’ve always been full of life and the love my parents gave me in life, I like to spread across the world wherever I go.
I’ve always been the popular kid in my schools and no one would ever get bored of spending some quality time with me; heck, some would even describe their time with me as a “golden experience”... well, all of this up until a loss I’ve experienced in 12th grade that had me completely devastated but wait, please! Don’t think of me as one of these cold, posh and fake girls that are oversensitive about everything. Let me explain; In my life I’ve gone through two other losses: my father’s parents and, as much as them leaving to a better place made me sad for a month or two, it was nothing compared to what happened two years ago but, hey, what am I doing? Let’s not talk about this now, today is supposed to be a happy day and as I grab my lunch and bag and exit through my mahogany door, the smell of freshly cut grass and cardiocrinums fills my lungs with euphoria and hope for the future. Off I go, this is where the fun finally begins.
The smell of the flowers outside, the color of the sky, the sound of my AirForces on the muddy grass; Here I am full of this world, running towards the University’s central hall where the director would give a speech to start the year off. The street I’m in has a large stone road and narrow grey sidewalks with short, bright green hedges on the outermost sides. There are trees every four or so steps and just like the hedges, these are a euphoric green too. Running, with my colossal, clumsy-looking bag falling off my shoulder and my phone in my hand, I wipe the sweat off my cheek and check the time. The quartz in my Casio shines as bright as the sun as its rays hit the screen... 7:52. I’m really going to be late on my first day, what a way to start off my academic year. As my breath slowly diminishes due to the excessive amount of honey cereals I had this morning, a high pitched screech, like nails on a chalkboard ravages my ears. I trip over my own foot but a rough and, at the same time, calming grip grasps my forearm and halts my inevitable contact with Mr. Concrete. As I stare blankly at the pavement, ready to take the hit, everything seems like it has just stopped. One of my golden heart-shaped earrings is on the floor just inches from my nose, that made sense because I was falling. My left leg was at the height of my chest and that made sense too since I tripped but what in the world happened to me? It’s like a poisonous snake just sank its razor teeth into my flesh and paralyzed every fiber of my 5"7 being. I can’t scream, talk or move. “Help” is what I want to shriek and at last, after what has felt like hours, my neck instinctively snaps to the right. My eyes, as they slowly rise, finally uncover the mystery: fingers, a veiny hand, a bodybuilder arm and finally, a head, actually, a motorcycle helmet are all stretched in my direction and are holding me up. I smiled with the little energy I have in me and he let go, thinking I was even slightly ready to process what just happened and finally, I hit the sweet sweet ground.
Fate. Fate is what I believe in. I wasn’t raised to be Christian, nor Muslim, nor any other religion but as I grew older I’ve always been convinced that ‘fate’ exists. It’s a bit hard to explain but to put it simply the Japanese believe in a ‘red string of fate’ that pulls together people and things who are destined to meet and, up until this point, my dad meeting my mom, her laying her hands on a winning lottery ticket, both of them investing the money on the right things, me being born and attending this University is all proof to me that ‘fate’ exists.
I lay like this for a couple of seconds until a rigid laugh breaks the silence constructed around a bird’s chirping. “-Ya need help getting back up? Or is the sidewalk that comfy, uh?” I put my hands on the ground and slowly pull myself up; I still don’t understand what happened. “-Cat’s got your tongue?” the man asks in a tone I’m not sure I like. He bows down, takes my bag from the ground and gives it to me and, as if in shock, he twitches for a moment and apologizes: “-OH MY, my visor is still down and I have yet to tell you my name!” Well that was weird, he changed his accent from an American thug’s to a high class spoiled-British-kid’s. He frantically raises his helmet’s visor and brushes aside the golden patch of hair obscuring his eyes from inside the helmet. Two brown gems, as dark as morning coffee, stare into me. “Name’s Arron Sauer, I noticed that you were running and since it was around 8:00 I’d figured you were gonna be late for Uni. The Stanford University is the only University in town so I assumed that that’s where you were going? Wanna hop on for a lift, we can get to know each other later. Always nice making new friends.” Without asking too many questions I nod my head, he hands over a second helmet that I quickly latch on and as soon as Arron (what a peculiar name) hits the gas, I think to myself ‘What a wonderful world’ as the trees and houses dash by, a little faster than before.
