Page 17 of Through Quick and Quinn
8:23 p.m.
she was partners with that Quick guy
8:23 p.m.
the hot guy from PE last year??
8:23 p.m.
yeah
and they looked super chummy
8:24 p.m.
THERE’S NO WAY
8:24 p.m.
that’s what I was thinking but it’s true they were jiving for sure
Monday, August 28, 2023
Note to self:
The REED Club meeting is tomorrow after school. Mr. Erickson announced it again on Friday and today, but the interest level in class seems a bit low. The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to place a bet that I will be the sole member. I’ll get to be the founder, the president, the vice president, and the treasurer. Great.
Sidenote: I was very wrong to think that Quick and I might become friends, let alone fast friends. We haven’t spoken since our presentation on Thursday. We haven’t even made eye contact. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he completely retreated back into his personal bubble.
Regardless, I am going to the meeting tomorrow. My heart goes out to Mr. Erickson and getting my mom off my back is a total bonus.
Sigh.
…Q
Tuesday, August 29, 2023
Note to self:
Ummmm, I got home from the meeting four hours ago and I’m still processing… First of all, I was not the only person to show up.
Quick came.
We waited for about ten minutes before Mr. Erickson broke the awkward silence. Why was it so awkward? I worked with Quick for a week straight, and I thought we were really starting to feel comfortable around each other, but apparently not. Anyway, the three of us agreed that it was probably just us in the club, and that no one else was going to show up. Mr. Erickson gave us the out, saying that we didn’t have to do the club if we didn’t want to, but neither Quick nor I moved a muscle. Apparently neither one of us had any intention of leaving.
Mr. Erickson told us that the club is what we make of it, to let him know if we need him for anything. And with that he walked away, leaving Quick and me alone. He spoke first, asking if we should start by brainstorming topics, which was exactly what I was thinking. After all, rumination is the initial step, and we could figure out the logistics of meetings and all that later.
I grabbed a notebook and pen to write down our ideas. I mentioned the possibility of doing a cost-benefit analysis of eating bugs for protein, as well as the option of researching the Mandela Effect, but he seemed to be hesitant to share any of his thoughts. He validated my topic suggestions with a series of “yeahs” and “good ones” but only contributed one subject idea of his own, and it was surprisingly lame: A comparison of TikTok and YouTube Shorts statistics. Really? How does the guy who researched the healing powers of vibrational frequencies now want to learn about something so mundane? It made no sense to me. I could totally tell that he was holding back and I have no clue why. Does he not really want to join the club? Does he not really want me to?
Well, whatever. I kept going. I brought up some more ideas, like lucid dreaming, but then something super weird happened.
I mentioned milk cartons, how my parents told me once, that missing children reports used to be plastered on them, and how that’s changed over the decades. Quick turned completely white. He literally froze in his seat and I swear he wasn’t breathing. My heart sank to the floor when I realized that I hit a nerve. A big one. I tried to cover it up right away by shooting myself down and saying how actually, now that I think about it, I don’t want to do anything like that. Nothing sad that has to do with children. He was still frozen which made me so nervous that I kept talking. Why did I do that? I think I made it worse. In fact, I totally made it worse. I tried mentioning other topics having to do with children that we could put on the no-no list, but the only one I could come up with was SIDS. And I said it as soon as I thought it. And my voice cracked. And my eyes filled up with tears. I think one even got away.
Oh my gosh, it was so bad. I mean, I guess it was good that it snapped him out of his horrifying trance, but then he was staring at me as I was trying to keep myself from crying. He did not need to see my ugly cry face. Ugh.
It was weird though. He was in no rush to push past that moment that I found to be unbearable and insufferable. It was almost as though he lost track of time, like time was going in slow motion when he was sitting there staring, just studying me. I couldn’t take it. When I could finally find my voice and I trusted it enough not to crack again, I totally changed the subject. I asked him why he went by the name Quick anyway. He begrudgingly muttered that it was a long story and not a really good one, so then I started filling the space with my dang babble again, this time about why the nickname was fitting. I rambled about how he was quick to debate in class, quick to ask questions, quick to learn new things. Thank goodness Mr. Erickson walked over when I was fumbling all over my running mouth. I still can’t believe I did that. What is wrong with me?
Ok, for real this time. I’m putting all my money on it. This club is not getting off the ground. It was over before it even started.
