Page 34 of Through Quick and Quinn
How is this not more simple? How can I be nearly seventeen years old and still have no idea what friendship is? What love is? What I’m feeling?
Quinn is the first person I have connected with in years. Since you. Actually, she is the first person I have connected with outside of our family. Ever. She is my first real friend, the only person I feel safe around, the only person I feel brave around. I know that I love spending time with her. I know that I love her companionship. I know that I love how I feel when I am around her.
And that is where my knowing stops. Perhaps this feeling is just that, a companion’s love. A friendship. How am I supposed to know?
I’m terrified that I am going to mess this up.
You know what? At the end of the day, I like things how they are. I don’t need to label any of it. I just need to go with it. Go with the flow, as Quinn would say.
You know what else? I miss you.
-Deck
Quinn:
Sucker Punch
Second semester came in a flash, and everything seemed to get bumped up a notch in terms of intensity. The teachers returned from winter break with an urgency, already discussing AP exams, college entrance exams, and final exams. The workload increased, and the student stress level among the junior class became practically visible. Even at home things were escalating. My mom was constantly lecturing me about how I needed to research colleges, their majors, and their pros and cons. I did not want to get swept up in the pressures of the pointless rat race, and it was taking more and more meditation to maintain my high vibration.
Meditation, whether it be through sound healing, crystals, art, or simply grounding, was not the only thing I implemented to help me maintain perspective and balance, though. I derived so much joy from The REED Club. Tuesdays and Thursdays were the highlights of my weeks, but in all honesty, Quick and I found time to dig on a daily basis. The research became addicting, and it seemed as though each possibility we unearthed led to more and more questions. If we weren’t bouncing ideas back and forth in Mr. Erickson’s room, we had each other on speaker phone while we were on our laptops at home. No matter how much schoolwork we had, we managed to find the time. It was almost as if we made an unspoken promise to one another to keep our club high on our priority lists.
In January of that year, Quick and I decided to take on two different topics simultaneously. I was eager to read about the possible dangers of using microwave ovens in the home, while he was set on discovering more about the health benefits of dandelion root. Ever since he learned that a pharmaceutical company that made huge profits off heart medicine was the same company that owned a popular herbicide to kill dandelions, he was on a mission to see if there was a motive. By tackling both subjects, we covered double the ground, and because we incessantly shared our findings with each other during the process, we were learning twice as much as we did in the fall.
As luck would have it, we both began to wrap up our research in the later part of the month. One Thursday afternoon, as he and I sat side by side to create our respective slideshows, I had an epiphany. I broke both our concentration and the silence with a gasp that startled Quick so much so that he jumped back in his chair.
“Sorry, but I just thought of something! You know what we should do, Quick? We should totally start a new tradition. Every time we finish a REED, we should celebrate in some way! Right? Wouldn’t that be fun?” I was speaking a mile a minute, like I always did when I was excited.
A wave of relief spread across his face. “You scared the crap out of me, Quinn.”
“I know, I’m sorry. You were totally in a zone. Sorry. But it’s a good idea, right? I think we’ll be done by next week. What should we do?” The idea delighted me, and I wanted his take on it.
“It’s a brilliant idea. Let’s do it.” Quick flashed me his best smile. I was starting to see it so often that even with my eyes closed, I could picture it perfectly.
“We could make downtown hot chocolate our tradition,” I offered, but even as I said it, I knew it was a weak suggestion.
He shook his head. “Nah, we deserve something bigger and better for all of our groundbreaking hard work.” He chuckled at his sarcasm. “Let’s keep thinking.”
“Bigger and better? Like what, go to an amusement park?” Now I was the one laughing at my sarcasm, but it took me much too long to realize that I was the only one who thought the comment was funny. Suddenly, I realized that something was very wrong. Quick was physically present, but he was no longer mentally with me in that room. His face had completely fallen, and his eyes were empty and hollow. He was frozen in space and in time, and even when I gently called his name, he did not give one iota of a signal that he even heard me.
Seconds turned into a minute, and I contemplated him in absolute silence. I watched as his unblinking eyes began to find their way back to the present moment, just before filling with tears. I could sense that the tears were of emotions that reached far beyond sadness. Whatever this was, it was complicated.
I waited patiently, mirroring his stillness. I instinctively knew that it was not my place to rush him or to disturb him in any way. Another minute passed. Eventually he blinked. A tear fell. The tear that rolled right down his beautiful cheek and splashed onto his keyboard. The tear that awakened him and zapped him back to reality. The tear that made him pack up his things and shuffle out of the room without saying a word.
Stunned and bewildered, I tried to make sense of what had transpired. Nausea took hold, and even though I couldn’t quite yet articulate it, my stomach could feel the truth. I replayed the conversation in my head, but all that was doing was muddying the waters and confusing me even more. Mournfully, regretfully, I gathered my belongings and began my walk home. Alone.
Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the deep breaths. Maybe it was the emptying of the mind. Whatever it was, it did the trick. The truth swooped in and sucker punched me so hard that I dropped to the sidewalk and sobbed.
***
Quinn / 7:08 p.m.
Hi.
Quick / 9:54 p.m.
hey
9:57 p.m.
