The Metropolis Series #2: Quinn Beyond Bounds
5. An Elaborate Scheme

I MADE A MENTAL NOTE to myself to research about Japanese writing later that day, but first, I had a meeting to attend. (Hooray, meetings! Fun…)

When I entered the band room, I found Rachael and Bree arguing about something (it was music talk, so I didn’t get much from it) as Curtis and Philip, the guitarist of Deus Ex Machina, watched them awkwardly from the sidelines.

Yup, I was already late for my first meeting.

Bree was the first to notice me enter the room, and when she did, a newfound gleam sparkled in her eyes.

“C’mon, Rachael,” she teased. “You wouldn’t want to be rude in front of our guest now, would you?”

Now, all four band members were staring at me, making me want to turn around and bail. I realized that I had awkward encounters with all of them, and I had pissed each of them off in one timeline or another.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Quinn,” Bree purred. “Come join us. Let’s all take our seats, everyone!”

The chairs in the band room were pushed back to the wall, so the only place you could really sit comfortably was the front row, which had five chairs. That was the exact number of people in the room, so we had no choice but to sit next to each other in a line. Rachael muttered something to Curtis on their way to their seats, the latter responding with a pat on her shoulder, and the two took the seats at the end. I, for one, sat next to Philip, who regarded me with a smile. At least I knew he wasn’t mad at me now. When I found out he worked at a nearby ice cream parlor, he was pretty furious about it.

He said that people like me wouldn’t understand.

Meanwhile, Bree remained standing, taking a spot in front of her bandmates.

“Um… aren’t you gonna sit down?” Rachael snarled.

“I would, but…” Bree placed her hands akimbo. “I know you’re agitated to ask me, ‘Bree, why did you leave the band? Why did you leave us hanging?’ So go ahead. Shoot.”

Rachael was about to speak, but then Bree raised a hand to stop her.

“Save it, Rachael.” She shook her head. “I think I’ve heard enough from you.”

Rachael grumbled. “Fine.”

Philip exchanged looks with Curtis and said, “Look, Bree, we’re not here to shoot you down. We’re glad you’re back.”

Rachael shot Philip a dirty look. Curtis scolded her.

“We just want to understand why you left,” Philip continued. “You never gave us a heads up.”

“You embarrassed us, you know?” Curtis added. “So you don’t show up at a gig, don’t take responsibility for it, and then just quit the next day.”

“Look, guys,” Bree began. “It was a difficult time for me. I didn’t mean to do it on purpose. I had other things going on, okay?”

“Like?” Rachael chided.

“Like—” Bree groaned. “Student Council.”

“But you were only president this year. You quit the band last year—”

“I know.” Bree sighed. “But the school contacted my mom and told her about my bad record: consecutive absences, failing grades, smoking and alcohol in the school premises. They were close to getting me expelled. So they gave me a second chance and—”

“Let you run for council,” Curtis finished.

“To put it simply, yes,” Bree affirmed, “but in their words, they wanted me to do service for them, to be a good example to ‘students like me,’ as they called it. And band practice was just getting too much to handle. I needed to work for my place in this school.”

“But as the bad girl you claimed you were,” Rachael added, “why did you even care about what some ratty school official thought about you?”

Bree took a moment to respond. “I actually don’t,” she said firmly. “I’m doing this for myself, not them. Look, I woke up, Rachael. I’ll admit that I wasn’t a good person. Your folks were right, too; I wasn’t the best influence on you as a friend. But I’ve changed. I want to return to the band, to Deus Ex Machina.”

Rachael, Curtis, and Philip began silently discussing among themselves. I, however, raised my hand awkwardly. “Uh… sorry to interrupt but… why am I here?”

“That’s an excellent question, Quinn,” Bree said. “But we need to know what they think, first…”

“No need,” Rachael interjected. “We… didn’t really discuss anything, actually, just said some… incomprehensible mumbles.”

“Oh…”

Curtis cleared his throat. “We actually had our own brief discussion before coming here, and we have unanimously agreed to let you back in as bassist.”

“And secondary vocalist,” Rachael added.

With nothing else to add, Philip stretched out a pair of jazz hands and smiled. “Tadaaaa!”

“Hooray…” I said in an awkward, singsong voice. “So why am I here again?”

Nobody dared to ask the same question, but I was sure that everyone else in the room wanted to know the answer, too.

“It’s simple really,” Bree smiled. (Or smirked, because it was quite evident that she was smirking. Or was it just me?) “As Deus Ex Machina continues to grow as a band, it’ll be needing a manager.”

Philip and Curtis seemed confused. On the other hand, Rachael shot me a dirty look.

“A manager?” Rachael questioned.

“Yes, Rachael, a manager. To organize gigs, schedule rehearsals, manage our social media—”

“Uh, Bree,” Philip said. “The band doesn’t have social media.”

“We’ll make one,” she simply replied. “We could use the extra publicity.”

“But isn’t Rachael already in charge of scheduling rehearsals?” asked Curtis.

“Yes, Rachael’s indeed in charge of scheduling rehearsals. But who does she inform first? You, of course, since you’re Rachael’s boyfriend and everything, and now that I’m back, there’s no denying that Rachael would still hold grudges against me—”

“Please, Bree.” Rachael rolled her eyes. “I know how to separate my personal life from my band life.”

“So I guess that’s why this band room is your hot make-out spot with Stevenson?”

Rachael snapped. She stood from her chair. “Now, hold on a minute—”

“The student council room is just on the other end of the hall, Rachael. Sometimes, on my way out, I hear things. So who’s the bad girl now, huh? I bet you guys already—”

I emerged from my seat. “Okay, guys, that’s enough.” I let out an awkward laugh. “I’m sure we’d have more time to discuss those things later…”

While everyone remained silent, Bree smiled and clapped her hands. “You see, Vasquez, you’re a wonderful manager.”

“I feel like a referee,” I said flatly.

“Look, we cannot undo inflicted wounds,” she replied. “That’s why we need you to balance things out. You’re the new girl, so biases will surely be minimal.”

If she was trying to tell me that my individual relationships with the members of Deus Ex Machina weren’t so deep, then she was wrong. I had a crush on Curtis. I was bitter with Rachael. I barely knew Philip, but I discovered his job that he had wanted to keep secret. And Bree? She scared me.

“I agree,” Philip said. He proceeded to give Curtis a pat on the shoulder. “No offense, man, but ever since you got together with Rachael, I couldn’t help but feel like the third wheel among you guys.”

Bree nodded. “That’s one. Curtis? Rachael?”

“Hold on!” I raised my hand. “What about what I think?”

“Quinn,” Bree began. “It’s already been months into the school year, and you still haven’t signed up for any extracurricular activity. When you graduate, the admissions office will be asking for your credentials and contributions to the school. What will you present by then?”

Of course, I should have known that extracurricular activities would be a requirement at St. John’s. Hearing that just seeped my energy as a lot had been going on. I couldn’t write time traveling as an extracurricular activity on my forms, could I? (Also, I wasn’t even sure if the Author would include our graduation ceremony in his story. Most of the fictional characters I knew stayed in high school. Forever. So did it really matter?)

“I’ve talked to the office,” Bree continued, “and if you accept this position as manager of Deus Ex Machina, they’ll count it as points on your record. You may be one of the brightest students in Class 3, but you can’t hit the books forever.”

“I see…” I stroked and thought about the other extracurricular activities St. John’s offered. I could join Harumi in the Drama Club, but then again, audiences made me nervous. Other than that, nothing else seemed to interest me.

“I’ll take it,” I said. “I’ll take the position.”

“Good,” Rachael said. “Because I was about to agree.”

“Seriously?” Curtis blurted out. He immediately cleared his throat. “I mean—what makes you say that, Rachael?”

“What’s the matter, Curtis?” she asked him.

Curtis looked at me apologetically. “Nothing, Rache, it’s just—”

“So, Curtis,” Bree butted in. “What will it be?”

When Rachael miraculously came back, I thought the consequences of what happened in the storage shed with Curtis were over, but I was wrong. In fact, it was far from over.

Curtis cast his vote by looking at my direction, saying, “Welcome to the Deus, Quinn.”