The Metropolis Series #2: Quinn Beyond Bounds

FIVE NAMES—a first and a last. Here is the list translated:

The Characters of the Metropolis

Quinn Vasquez

Curtis Stevenson

Rachael Chavez

Bree Leonard

Philip Acosta

I wasn’t entirely sure what to think at first. For all I knew, Harumi had been keeping nothing but school notes in that notebook of hers, but gazing upon this list gave me all kinds of second thoughts that I myself couldn’t explain.

It made me realize how much I wasn’t paying attention. My stay at St. John’s suddenly felt like a dream, a hazy little part of my life that just swept past me before I could even blink. I couldn’t remember much of about the people I went to school with, their names and their faces.

That seemed understandable; I was the new kid and everything, but with Vasquez as my last name, I was also the last kid on Class 3’s student roster. I had to listen to every single name being called before the teacher could confirm my presence. After months of going through attendance, I was pretty sure that I memorized that list by now. At The MacGuffin, however, the memory of those names just seemed to go away. All I could remember were random first names: Angie, Raul, Dominic, Tina, Enrique… but that was it. I couldn’t remember what their last names were.

For some reason, there was something about the names on Harumi’s list that stood out the most. They had also seemed to make an impact on me, just like all those characters I’d met in books and television shows. Acknowledging the Metropolis as one of those stories only made my head spin.

Perhaps this was something Harumi had come to terms with, as well. In any world, there was always going to be a group of people who stood out, and aside from yours truly who was written at the top of her list, the members of Deus Ex Machina definitely earned their spotlight.

I guess Curtis had already gotten his wish a long time ago; he and his band were notorious all over the city, and the way Takahiro’s eyes sparkled just at the mention of its name was a testament to their success.

Takahiro had seen Deus Ex Machina perform at the Battle of the Bands Concert during the previous year’s Founding Festival. Ever since then, he would muster any little spare cash from his job just to watch them perform—until, of course, they disbanded.

When I told him that Deus Ex Machina reformed with Bree Leonard returning as bassist, the young lad couldn’t contain his excitement. I never thought that Takahiro could be such a fanboy.

“So, you’re their manager?” he beamed.

Yeah, I told him that, too, but I tried not to make a big deal out of it.

“What’s it like?” he then asked.

Not much, I thought. So far, all I had done was break up Rachael and Bree’s argument.

“They have plans of holding gigs again,” I said, “and I’ll be helping them manage it—hence, manager.” I struck up some jazz hands in an attempt to make my job sound more fabulous. It didn’t work.

As the pizzazz died, Julio returned from his grieving. He sat next to me on the table just in front of his half-drunken espresso and untouched slice of banana bread. He smelled of cigarettes.

Ms. Louise was placing an order at a nearby table, and on her way back to the front counter, she glanced at our direction, looking disdainfully at Julio’s plate.

“You haven’t eaten,” she said.

Julio turned his head weakly. “Thanks, Ms. Louise,” he muttered. “But I’m not hungry anymore.”

The barista placed her arms akimbo, eyeing the banana bread. “You want me to wrap it for you?”

“Yes, please.”

Ms. Louise sighed and picked up Julio’s plate. She then looked at me, her eyes glinting under her tennis cap. “How’s the food here, Quinn?”

“Really good,” I said, flashing her a smile. “Thank you.”

I thought that I saw Ms. Louise look doubtfully at my half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich, but I brushed it off. She then marched right back to the counter.

Julio took his cup of espresso and drank down the rest in one gulp. He sighed as he sat straight up. “Sorry about that. What did I miss?”

Takahiro appeared to be avoiding eye contact with him, nonchalantly tucking away the list under the table. The list contained the members of Deus Ex Machina, a band where Rachael was the lead singer. Julio was already feeling bad enough; bringing up his past girlfriend would just make things worse.

As for Julio’s question, I tried to impromptu some kind of excuse. “Nothing really,” I began. “We were just…”

Just what? God, I sucked at making excuses.

“It’s okay if you were talking about me,” Julio said grimly. “Everyone still does so these days.”

Takahiro sighed. “I’m sorry, Julio, it’s just—it’s been more than a year now. When are you going to move on?”

“I was going to,” he confessed. “Then, I saw—”

I didn’t want to say that I had slipped away as the scene shifted, but that was precisely what happened next.

▶▶

I found myself in what looked like the school grounds of St. John’s. It was nighttime, and muffled pop music sounded from a distance. The school gymnasium glistened, its windows glowing many shades of purple. Balloons and streamers adorned the entrance.

Dazed, I looked around, and a student in a frilly red ball gown passed right through me, making me conclude that no one on the school grounds could see me.

I was relieved.

Compared to the sweater and beanie I was wearing, students were coming in their suits and dresses as they made their way to the gymnasium. Corsages were pinned to the guys’ chests and wrapped around the girls’ wrists.

One word came to mind: prom.

From what I knew, St. John’s held their prom every February of the year, impeccably aligning it with Valentine’s month. As a new student, I was yet to experience prom at St. John’s, and I was hoping that when it would eventually come around for me, it would be normal: no zombies to fight, and definitely no Cassandra to ruin everything.

Anyway, I was then asking myself why, of all times and places, did I wind up at a high school prom. My visions were usually relevant to what was going on or to the conversations I was having, so I looked around, struggling to find some kind of connection.

Before having this blackout, Julio said that something had stopped him from moving on from Rachael, but what could it be?

Then, on a bench at the far corner of the school grounds, I found Julio sitting all alone.

He looked about the same as his present self; he had those dark, piercing eyes and that perpetual scowl. However, this was probably one of those few times I had seen him in something other than a hoodie. He dressed smartly for the occasion: a tux and a corsage. He had a rose in his hand, and he appeared to be scanning the crowd for a familiar face—or a special someone, rather.

But then the school grounds began to grow void of any more students; they were all having the time of their life in that sugar-coated gymnasium, leaving Julio with nothing else but the silent gusts of wind and the occasional chirping of crickets. Nevertheless, he waited patiently outside, keeping his eyes stuck to the gym’s entrance as he lightly stroked the rose petals in his hand.

I began to wonder why he wouldn’t just go to the gym to find who he was looking for, but then, Rachael stepped out into the school grounds hand-in-hand with Curtis, and the answer to my question was served.

I was seeing an event after their separation.

At first, Julio rose from his seat at the sight of his former girlfriend, and he seemed to had mustered all the courage to speak to her after what looked like a long time. Maybe his mechanisms were similar to The MacGuffin; Rachael would eventually forget about him and the conversation they were about to share, but the possibilities didn’t seem to be the first thing on his mind.

However, all that must have diminished when Curtis appeared right next to her, and Julio resorted to slipping behind a nearby tree where he could watch the two from the school’s dark corners.

Rachael was wearing a white dress while Curtis… well, he wore a tux. But I guess the most crushing detail of their prom ensemble was the fact that they wore matching purple corsages.

“Whew!” Rachael exclaimed. “Glad we’re out; it was beginning to get stuffy in there.”

“I know, right?” Curtis chuckled. “Maybe we should have just joined Philip for pizza.”

“We could still give him a call and get out of here.”

Then, the music from the gymnasium began to slow down, and the muffled voice of a DJ called out to everyone to partner up with their date for the night. As if on cue, Curtis looked tenderly at Rachael and asked her to dance with him.

I couldn’t lie. It pained me to see him twirl Rachael around the school grounds; it reminded me too much of how we danced at the arcade—all in a timeline that no longer existed.

I then wondered how Julio had felt; I looked to his direction to see that he had frozen, his eyes stone cold. He clutched the rose he had close to his chest, ruining the petals in his grip.

On a bus ride to St. John’s during a monster attack, he said that he had found Rachael, but only to discover that she had been in the arms of another guy…

I realized that I was seeing that very moment.

Under the city lights on the school grounds, when they thought no one was looking, Curtis leaned toward Rachael and kissed her. I then glanced at where Julio was hiding to see how he was taking all that in, but I found that he was no longer there. The only thing left of him was the crumpled rose, lying on the ground to wilt.