Installation 1 (Introduction)

An introduction and a bit of backstory.

Hi, my name is Ariella Duret. I was born July 14th of 1998. Born on Bastille Day! I guess that makes me 16. I forget sometimes. I'm tall, probably 5'10ish, and thin. I'd tell you my weight, but I've been told that that should be private, so I'll keep that little nugget of information to myself. I'm French, I moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when I was a baby, because my father wanted to be with his aging grandparents, who had moved to Pittsburgh to work in the steel mills when it was a booming business.  I have a younger brother, Blaise. He was the surprise baby, born when I was almost 12. This is my story. Bear with me.

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My story starts the summer of 2011, I guess that would make me 13. My story starts there, and no earlier. Anything you need to know of before that was covered in my introduction.

Like most families, my father worked to support the family. He was the owner of a restaurant near the strip district and the Heinz history museum. But the thing that I considered most unique about our family was that I was homeschooled. My mother would stay home and teach me, because she thought I would be better educated if I didn't have to go to school. She was right, Pittsburgh's public education system cannot be considered great.

By the time I was in 8th grade, (10th by the public school standards) my mother decided that I was grown up enough to go find some form of income, so she sent me out into the world to do so. While walking the strip, asking around at different places to see who could hire me, and hitting dead end after dead end (Mancini's was a no-go, what a dreadful shame), I wished to myself that I were older and decided to mow lawns.

It was tiring work, and my mind often wandered to the dream that I could possibly be older. One day, I was mowing our elderly next-door-neighbor, Ms. Pulaski’s lawn, and daydreaming about working where else but Mancini’s (Oh those hot, fresh, pepperoni rolls) when I felt different, sort of sore, or stretched. As I passed by the window, I looked in, to see if I had gotten sun stroke, or a sun-burn, because I thought maybe that’s what it was (I had never gotten either before).

What I saw was a shock. I looked older, more refined, and almost beautiful. I realized with a start that my clothes were tighter in some places that aren’t exactly well known for growing at random intervals. All I could think was, “Mom would kill me if she saw how short my shorts were!” I felt like everyone who passed by was watching me, although I knew that was completely unreasonable. I hurried and finished the lawn, and hid in Ms. Pulaski’s old apple tree (which grew some extremely sour apples, after it got hit by lightning twice), and tried to figure out what was happening.

I realized that I had been thinking about getting older when it happened, so I thought maybe if I thought about being younger I could reverse it. Thankfully that worked, and I was back to normal. After the initial shock of my random ability, I started to mess around with it. What else are you supposed to do if you suddenly discover you have a power that you have never heard of before, and could potentially be dangerous?

I figured out how to use it (and I must say, 21 has got to be my favorite so far), climbed out of the tree, put away the mower, told Ms. Pulaski I was done, and ran home.

The next morning I got a job (not at Mancini’s though) and for the next few weeks I would age myself to 18 in the morning after I left the house, work, and come home, de-aging as I walked up to the door. Then one day it fell apart.

That fateful day I did as I routinely did, and when I got home, my mother let me know that my father would be getting home soon, and would prepare dinner, so I had a little bit of free time. I took a shower, and settled down in my room, aging myself to 17 to write the paper my mother had asked me to write over the summer to assess my skill for next year.

About 45 minutes later, my mother walked into my room (without taking the time to knock) to tell me that dinner would be ready in just a couple minutes. I looked up without thinking, and immediately knew my mistake when she started to scream. My father came running up the stairs, still in his button up shirt and vest, and grabbed my mother, holding her while she wept, shooting me a piercing glare that told me that despite his promise as a father to love me unconditionally, my normalcy was a condition, and I broke it.

Dinner was late that night, as to be expected when the man cooking it had to also comfort my hysterical mother. I spent the time before then in my room, cradling my baby brother Blaise (who was about 1) thankful that at least he didn’t mind my repulsive curse.

I remember sitting through that dinner, wishing my curse was invisibility instead, so they could have never found me out. The only noise throughout the entire dinner was from Blaise, who chattered happily, unaware that anything had gone wrong. Although, I guess to him nothing had. He had no clue that I was so different, or that it was a bad thing if I was. He was happily oblivious.

I managed to make my way through that meal, despite the tearful look from my mother, and the glaring scowls from my father. After dinner though, I had to help my mother clean up, as it was one of my chores. While I was covering the leftovers, she pulled me aside, and asked me why with such a desperate look. I tried to figure out what to say to her, because I honestly didn’t know why myself. But before I even got the chance, my father saw her talking to me, gently grabbed her by the arm and led her away, murmuring softly in her ear, still shooting me that horrid look. I couldn’t take it anymore; I ran to my room, broke down and cried.