Page 68 of Through Quick and Quinn
watchurtung: Here’s the big question: Why haven’t we been back??
river_sunsets: Yeah, that movie that came out this past summer didn’t sit with me right. Did you guys see Fly Me to the Moon?
mar<3lee: I saw it. You know what really bugs me? It our families’ taxes that pay for it, so we deserve total truth. There should be so much transparency that things like this shouldn’t even be a question!
rauhrauh4golf: truth.
Quinn:
A Heartened Hypocrite
Watching the first month of Seek & Speak unfold in real time was categorically thrilling. I became obsessed with the participation statistics, and the consistent upward trend of clicks and posts only reinforced the compulsion to check the numbers. There was a buzz about the school with chatter among our fellow students in the hallways, along with the endorsement of it by several teachers on campus. Seek & Speak, to put it simply, took off like a rocket.
The second topic of the moon landing was much better received than the first, partially due to its relatability to a greater number of students than the sports question, but also because Seek & Speak needed to gain a bit of momentum in its infancy. By the second week of the second round, we not only had hundreds of clicks, but dozens upon dozens of participants and more usernames being registered each day. Our peers even began to respond back and forth to one another, tagging each other in comments to either refute or further support the statements given. As with true discourse, both sides of the argument were being presented and discussed, and when we saw that hyperlinks to research were being included, Quick and I were over the moon. Surely, Mr. Erickson was elated as well. I imagined it was akin to a dream come true for him.
The swift growth of Seek & Speak made an easily discernible impact on Quick. His grumpy, negative outlook was proven to be temporary, thank goodness, and he approached me on that Friday afternoon in an absolute frenzy. For once it was him who was speaking a mile a minute and it was me who was trying to decipher his exuberant speech. He was rattling on about wanting to celebrate the initial success of our “first pet project” and asking what I had planned for the weekend, to which I responded as soon as I could squeeze a word in.
“Actually, Quick, this is not our first pet project. How do you think the garden would feel if it heard that?” I smirked, and the question made him slow down enough to catch his breath. He smiled, and to see the look of pure fulfillment on his face filled my entire heart with joy.
“I’m so proud of you, Quinn. You had a brilliant idea, you fearlessly jumped in with both feet, and look at it. It’s amazing! I mean, I don’t know how long it will last. Maybe it goes the whole year, maybe it’s a quick little trend, but whatever. Who cares? Right now, it’s awesome.” He swooped in and wrapped his arms all the way around me. The hug seemed to stop time, and I did not mind one bit. He released me and placed his forehead against mine, just like we had done in July. He softly whispered, “Thank you, Quinn. Thank you for asking me to do this with you.”
“I could never imagine doing it without you.” He grabbed my hand as we walked off campus for the weekend. He held it the entire way to the bike rack, and once again, I was taken aback by how natural it felt. We tossed around ideas for our celebratory activity and we landed on something that would be a first for both of us: Attempting the escape room that had recently opened downtown.
By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around and Quick texted that he was on his way to my house, I did a last-minute statistics check and saw that the number of participants had reached sixty-four. I smiled to myself, acknowledging that the celebration we planned was definitely in order. Quick swung by to pick me up, I hopped on the handlebars, and we headed towards our latest adventure.
Once we made our way into the escape room and the door locked behind us, he looked at me and broke the silence by announcing in his best Sherlock Holmes impersonation, “Now we shall really see what kind of a team we make, Ms. Watson.”
Put bluntly, we were not Sherlock and Watson. We spent the entire hour speaking as though we were, using our best British accents and tipping our invisible hats to one another, but in the end, our fits of laughter did not help us solve the mystery. Not even a little bit. We honored our failure with some ice cream sundaes from the shop next door, a cute little parlor that had board games available for customer enjoyment. After at least fifteen games of Connect Four, most of which he won, we decided to call it a night and head back home.
Climbing back onto the bike’s handlebars and being keenly aware of the pure and simple happiness that was consuming me, I resolved to tune into my senses and mentally record every aspect of the ride home that I could. I closed my eyes and lifted my head to the dusky sky, trusting Quick with my entire being as I always did. I breathed in the cool night air, allowing it to fill my lungs just as gratitude filled my heart. The breeze flowed through my hair, and I smiled as I pictured Quick behind me, leaning to the left to allow my hair to whip in the wind. The swooshing hums of bushes as we rode by intermingled with the rhythmic sound of Quick’s pedaling feet, and when I focused all of my attention, I could pick up on traces of Quick’s scent. I wasn’t sure if it was the smell of his hair, that of his clothes, or a blend of them, but I did know that I could distinguish that scent from any other: the scent of my Quick.
I fell asleep that night with a grin plastered on my face. My best friend and I were closer than ever, and our shared mission added a new layer of satisfying purpose to our senior year. We had so many big decisions to make regarding life beyond high school, so many big changes in the coming year, but I knew I didn’t have to worry about any of it quite yet. I wasn’t ready to consider the possibility of daily life sans Quick, so in the meantime, I was making a concerted effort to cherish every moment of our final year, whether it be ones of silly accents or quiet bike rides. The next morning, I could feel my smile before I even opened my eyes, but that smile quickly faded when I logged on to Seek & Speak. A few comments had been added since the afternoon prior, but the latest one really struck a chord that I knew was going to create a problem. The user presented a good point, but I knew that it was nonetheless a moot one:
3sistas4theW: Isn’t it hypocritical for Seek & Speak to encourage us to share our truths, and yet the people behind it remain anonymous?
***
Quinn / 7:52 a.m.
Good morning, Quick. Have you checked S&S recently?
Quick / 7:53 a.m.
I checked yesterday I think
7:53 a.m.
Okay. When you get a chance, please do.
The last post warrants a conversation, I believe.
7:54 a.m.
?
7:55 a.m.
It’s not bad, and I don’t think it’s anything we have to address.
