Page 119 of Through Quick and Quinn
10:28 p.m.
no
but I am done with this conversation
Quick:
The Moment
Molasses. Sloths. The line at the DMV.
Those all moved faster than time did on that Friday. The protest was scheduled for the afternoon, and anticipation was hanging in the air. The entire student body and faculty could sense it. No one knew how it was going to go down. If protesters would show up. If anti-protesters would show up. If it would get ugly. If it would get shut down. How it would end.
As the day went on, a very strong feeling settled in my gut. There would be hundreds of students there. Even if just to watch. Not a lot happened in our desert city, and this was going to create a stir.
Quinn took the day in stride. Once again, I was in awe of her. She was cool and collected, wearing a homemade shirt that read, “My brain—My shovel—My right” and was adorned with illustrations. Such confidence. It made her all the more attractive.
I chose to take the passenger seat with this whole affair, but Quinn knew that I would have her back no matter how things came to pass that afternoon. When the time finally came for the protest to begin, we walked to the quad to meet with our fellow Seekers. Whoever made the flyers that week did a bang-up job; within ten minutes we had over a hundred participants ready to go. The posters, all pre-approved by the boss, came out great and were distributed among the crowd. Quinn had the forethought to bring a megaphone, another brilliant move on her part, and when she figured the crowd was reaching its peak, she clicked that sucker on. The group heard the loud squeak and hushed right away.
Self-assured and assertive, Quinn commanded the attention of probably two hundred of her peers. This girl, the quiet witch who was ostracized for years and couldn’t have cared less as she meditated barefoot for all to see, was now leading a massive student body. And they were hanging on to her every word.
Quinn started it out almost like a pep rally, reiterating the purpose of Seek & Speak and energizing the crowd. She then discussed the purpose of the protest and what they were there to accomplish. While we all respected parental concerns, we simply wanted the opportunity to have a conversation to find a compromise or common ground. Her expectations regarding courteous and well-mannered behavior were made very clear, and she then ended by thanking everyone for their support and their time on a Friday afternoon.
Every single thing she said was perfect. I wondered if she practiced it. She must have. She didn’t stutter once, her word choice was impeccable, and she exuded boldness and conviction. Actually, I would not have been surprised if she winged it. She was that good. But the best part? Oh, the best part was just way too good.
Her parents saw the entire thing. From start to finish.
I noticed them walk through the front gates while the posters were being passed around. They stood off to the side of the adjacent building, tucked in by the wall, completely undetected. Quinn’s mom had her arms crossed with that particular scowl I had seen before, while her dad was fidgeting a bit. He was having a hard time suppressing a smile, that was for sure.
Once Quinn powered up the megaphone, I knew I was going to be torn in half. I wanted nothing more than to gaze at her, to take it all in, to watch her every facial expression and to memorize her every word. But I also knew that once Quinn discovered her parents were there, she would want to hear about their reactions to her speech, detail by detail. I gambled that someone out there would be recording Quinn’s pre-game motivational performance, so I locked in on her folks. Specifically, her mom.
The arms fell to the side. The scowl dissipated. The eyes welled up. The edges of the mouth curled. The hands clasped together. The tears fell. The smile widened. And like me, Quinn’s father couldn’t take his eyes off it either.
That was the moment Quinn’s mother “saw” her for the first time.
And it was one of the greatest honors of my life to be able to watch it happen in real time.
Quinn:
The Strongest River
Before it even began, I figured the protest would last about an hour. That was ample time to showcase our numbers and make our request known. I wanted us to end on a high note and on our timing, and honestly, anything over an hour would have either fizzled out or gone south. I would not have been satisfied with either of those scenarios, so by the time four o’clock rolled around, I used the megaphone to thank everyone for coming and mentioned that we looked forward to hearing from administration soon.
As we were collecting the posters and cleaning up the site, Mr. Erickson came over to tell me how proud he was of the way we handled things. He called it “a beautiful balance of respecting administration while also honoring the students,” which really resonated with me. It reminded me of Quick’s comment back in the first week of APUSH class: We should be able to have civilized discourse to reach levels of compromise and enlightenment. I thanked him for his support and was sure to mention yet again how much inspiration he sparked in both Quick and me over the previous two years.
Just as we wrapped up the conversation, the principal made her way over and introduced herself. While I had of course known who Leanne Karim was throughout my entire high school career, this was indeed the first time we interacted. Any other time, I may have been a bit intimidated, but I was feeling more confident than ever. The protest went so smoothly and Mr. Erickson’s comments put the cherry right on top.
“Hello, Ms. Karim, it’s nice to formally meet you,” I extended my hand for a proper greeting.
“Hello, Quinn. First, I’d like to say thank you for organizing such a peaceful and respectable event. I can see how passionately you all feel about this forum, and how responsibly you carried yourselves. Well done.” She held the handshake throughout, and I focused on maintaining eye contact. I really wanted to illustrate my confidence and strength.
“Of course. Thank you,” I replied.
“I will give great consideration to your ask, talk with my team members, and see where to go from here. I am sure you will understand that, for now though, Seek & Speak will remain paused.” She said it with such a matter-of-factness, albeit polite, it clearly demonstrated a non-negotiable term. The forum was paused until further notice. That was that.
She smiled, thanked me again, and headed towards the building that housed her office. As I glanced around to survey the scene and the progress made in terms of the “leave no footprint” request I made of our peers, I caught a glimpse of my favorite teacher and mentor having a wonderfully animated conversation with my grinning parents. My heart skipped a beat and I was immediately filled to the brim with thankfulness. They were too far away to hear but I was enraptured by the sight, so much so that when Quick came up to hug me from behind, I was slightly startled.
“You were so great, Quinn. I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in my ear as he wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his head onto my shoulder.
