Page 115 of Through Quick and Quinn
Quinn:
The Calm Before the Storm
I often felt the urge to pinch myself, just to make sure that the final semester of my senior year in high school really was as perfectly joyous and joyously perfect as it seemed. We began January with a new level of closeness, and we carried that elation through to February and March. From his birthday celebration and the establishment of our garden to dinners with his parents and our own date nights, I really was happier than I had ever been before. Our mission with Seek & Speak was accomplished since the forum had truly taken on a life of its own, and our academics were a cinch, allowing us to cram in as much quality time as we could. We loved having the time to do all the things we enjoyed. If we weren’t video logging the growth of our garden, Quick was having me take the car out for spins. We watched movies, played board games, went for long walks, and had deep conversations while sitting on the swings at the neighborhood park.
Although we could have, we didn’t spend every possible waking moment together. I was working on expanding my knowledge of herbal teas and my practice of energy healing, while Quick and his dad were tackling what had come to be known as, “The Learning List.” I was still visiting the bookstore with my dad and learning to bake with my mom, while Quick was working at the supermarket and saving up for his own vehicle. No matter what the day held, every single night ended with text messages of love and gratitude, and with each passing day, we felt less anxious about the coming year. We were actively living in present moments and rejoicing in all of them. It really was the best of times.
As it turned out, those three months of tranquility were the season of strengthening. Strengthening as individuals, strengthening as a couple, strengthening our convictions, and strengthening our confidence.
It was the calm before the storm.
On a Monday in late-March, feces hit the fan.
Quick:
Fight
Quinn and I were startled by the irregular greeting we received upon entering the school grounds that Monday morning. Three girls came running towards us, their arms waving and their voices raised, stunning us with their abrupt and incomprehensible shouts.
“Do you know these girls?” I asked Quinn, as they approached. “And are they pissed at us? What are they yelling about?”
“I have math with two of them: Sabrina and Morgan. I think the other one is Rochelle? They’re super nice.” Quinn directed her words towards them as soon as they caught up to us. “Are you okay? What happened?”
They all three started talking at once, and I struggled to pick up on anything more than short phrases. Unhelpful phrases. Like, “unfair,” “total crap,” and “they can’t do that.”
“Woah, woah, hold on. I can’t understand you. Can one of you tell us?” I looked to the calmest one to relay the message, whose name did indeed turn out to be Rochelle.
She very calmly explained to us that they usually visit Seek & Speak when they’re eating breakfast before school, but when they logged on that morning, they saw a notice that the site was being blocked by administration and was no longer accessible to students. Morgan and Sabrina were behind Rochelle providing all the agitated choreography needed to really drive home the message as to how upset they were.
Quinn thanked them for telling us and promised that we’d get to the bottom of it. I glanced at my watch and sighed when I saw that there were only five minutes before classes would begin. She knew exactly what I was thinking. She squeezed my hand and whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll go see him right at the start of lunch. We’ll meet there after fourth period, okay?” She gave me a quick kiss and headed off to class.
My stomach was in knots all morning and my brain was trying to gather the thoughts that were bouncing around in my skull at a mile a minute. Who shut it down? Why? The hypotheses seemed to be endless. I was eager to get some answers and found myself counting down the minutes until lunchtime. I got to Mr. Erickson’s classroom as quickly as I could and was not surprised in the least when I saw that Quinn was already there. She was waiting for me outside of the room, standing underneath the poster that she had pointed out to me at the start of our friendship. “Live Inspired.” I chuckled to myself as I realized that was exactly what she galvanized me to do for the last two years.
When we walked in, the expression on Mr. Erickson’s face signaled that he was expecting us. We skipped the niceties and jumped right into the conversation that had been awaiting us all day. He told us that he received an email from the administrator on Friday afternoon, with a forwarded message from a concerned parent attached. Mr. Erickson showed us the message from the disgruntled parent who was clearly upset about the forum’s latest few topics. It read, “It’s bad enough to humor kids by promoting ridiculous theories about the Challenger space shuttle and supposed lies regarding fossil fuels, but to get into child trafficking and the generational data surrounding vaccines is going way too far.” The message went on to urge the school to shut down Seek & Speak, and the administrator mentioned in the email to Mr. Erickson that something this controversial could not seem sponsored by the school itself.
“I tried to explain that the forum is completely run by the students, but they’re not having it, guys. I’m so sorry.” The sadness in Mr. Erickson’s voice was unmistakable. He was truly disappointed.
We both piped up about how it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t need to apologize, and then Quinn veered straight into solutions mode. “Well, that’s only one parent. Have there been any other complaints? Surely we can stand up for ourselves in some way. A petition or something. I’m sure most of the student body would sign it, even if they don’t participate in the forum. And I bet if we did a survey, some teachers would admit that student engagement has gone up since Seek & Speak was born! Don’t they know that shutting us down like this is only going to make us want to do it even more?”
With a long face, Mr. Erickson gently told us that we were on our own. That he wouldn’t be able to fight this fight with us. That he was proud of how far it went, proud of the new subculture on campus, and proud to know us. But at the end of the day, he couldn’t risk his career.
Fair. It wasn’t his fight anyway.
The look on Quinn’s face made it very clear whose fight it was.
03/25/2025
11:34 a.m.
Cafeteria
Luca: Dude, did you hear this crap about the school shutting down Seek?
Matson: Oh yeah, I did. What the heck? Can they even do that?
Luca: I guess. I wonder what happened. Bro, at first I thought the whole thing was stupid but it turned out to be pretty frickin’ cool. Like, I learned a lot from reading other people’s stuff. It made me think, you know?
Matson: Yeah, same here. Well, I heard something about the topics getting a little too dicey. Like parents were getting upset or whatever.
