Happy New Year

By Emily Hutnyak            

Keep the clock running, Aria. Mother’s words spun through her head like the thick white snowflakes tumbling around her.

Aria Clockkeeper adjusted her grip on the icy key and fumbled with the lock on the clock tower door. Her huff of irritation froze in the air.

“Need help with that, Ari?” Will’s voice made her jump.

She ground her teeth. Her know-it-all ex-friend could’ve picked a far better time to bother her. “No, thank you very much.”

“Aw, come on. I swear I didn’t sabotage you at that invention exposition. How many apologies do you want?” He approached, blue eyes pleading for forgiveness he wouldn’t get.

She ignored him, wrenched the door open, and stepped into the tower’s workshop. Dead stillness greeted her, chilling her blood.

“Blazes.” Will slipped inside, staring up at the darkened heart of the clock. “It stopped?”

“Brilliant observation,” Aria growled. How was she supposed to get it running again before tonight?

Will leaned against the huge workbench. “Can’t have a New Year’s Eve celebration without the clock chiming.”

“Shut up, will you?” She strode to the steam boiler and lit the fire. A stubborn tear escaped her eye, but she swiped it away before Will could see.

“What is wrong with you?” she muttered to the massive boiler. “Just because Mother’s sick doesn’t mean you get to be.”

As though sighing sadly, the boiler hissed steam through its copper pipes, dimming the winter chill.

Keenly aware of Will’s gaze, Aria stomped over to the aether collector and spun its dials. Once it hummed steadily, alive with pulses of bright energy, she threw her weight into the massive crank that started up the clock’s metal-and-gears heart. It moved an inch before spitting angry sparks. Jammed.

“That didn’t sound good.” Will strode over. “You got a broken gear somewhere.”

Aria clenched her jaw. Replacing a gear would take longer than a day.

Will sauntered around the boiler, humming a little tune as he scanned the ground.  “Found it!” he called from the other side of the room. “Uh… Ari… we have a problem.”

“Obviously,” she mumbled under her breath, dragging her feet as she neared him.

Will knelt on the icy tiled floor, cradling two twisted pieces of metal in his hands.

She sank to her knees next to him and snatched the gear’s broken halves. “No, no, no… ” This small gear ran the very core of the clock. No wonder it wasn’t ticking.

Groaning, she let the scraps drop with a clink. No way can I fix this in time.

Mother would be so disappointed, and the entire city would know she’d failed when the clock didn’t chime at midnight.

Will gripped her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

She didn’t have the energy to pull away. “It’s a broken gear.”

The hissing steam and crackling aether, without the clock’s familiar ticking, made Aria feel hollow.

“You know,” Will said thoughtfully, “I think I have it.”

“Have what?” she snapped.

“How to fix the clock in time.” He stood up and laughed sheepishly. “Well, not fix it, but we can get it to chime tonight.”

Wild hope warred with suspicion in Aria’s chest. “I don’t believe you. You’re probably happy I’ll be humiliated tonight.”

He sighed. “I’m trying to fix this, Ari.”

She had a feeling he meant their friendship as well as the clock.

“Just give me a chance.” Will held out his hand to help her up. “Please?”

She hesitated. I guess I need any help I can get. She accepted Will’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. “All right. One more chance.”

***

“This better work, Will!” Aria called, narrowing her gaze to where he stood far below her on the clock tower floor. “It’s gotta be almost midnight now.”

“Don’t worry,” he yelled back, checking a worn pocket watch. “Is that last connection in place?”

Aria carefully readjusted her hunched position on the narrow maintenance catwalk and yanked on the last knot. “Yeah.”

Will tugged his end of the second rope, checking the tension. “Perfect. Great job!”

She groaned, leaning against the catwalk railing. It may have been freezing outside, but the top of the tower felt like an oven. “Can I come down yet?”

“Yes, and hurry!” Will finger-combed his hair out of his face, looking as hot and sweaty as she felt. “We’ve got ten minutes till midnight.”

Aria gasped and scrambled down the thin ladder. Pulses of aether crackled the air around her, but the clock was still silent.

She’d barely stepped onto the floor before Will shoved one of the ropes into her hands. “I’ll go first. Ready?”

Breathless, she could only nod and hold the rough lifeline.

Will checked his pocket watch one more time, adjusting his grip on the second rope. “Now!” He sprinted forward till the rope went taut, stopping him.

A deafening chime shook the air.

Hope surged through Aria, and she charged forward with her rope. A moment later, the second chime rang out.

She burst into wild, incredulous laughter as Will sounded the third chime. Connecting ropes directly to the clock’s two massive chime hammers had seemed an impossible task, but Will had walked her through the entire process.

Four. Five. Six. Seven. They ran back and forth across the clock tower floor, ropes in hand, and the clock kept ringing.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Will dropped his rope and darted to Aria’s side, helping her pull her rope one last time.

Twelve.

They collapsed to the ground, gasping. Tears swelled in Aria’s eyes, but she didn’t care.

Will took her hand and squeezed. “You did it.”

She shook her head. “No. We did it.” The tears trickled down her cheeks as she pulled him into a rough embrace. “I’m so sorry, I… ”

“Shh.” He held her tightly. “Happy New Year, Ari.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Hutnyak is a young writer with dreams that touch the sky and an overactive imagination. She spins stories about teens like herself finding their place in the world and tales of the light and hope that can be found even in the darkest of places. When she’s not writing, you can generally find her hanging out with friends and family, reading, or, on rare occasions, venturing outside to get some fresh air and sunshine.

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