The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra
14. Intrusion

THE NEXT MORNING, I decided not to attend my classes. Thankfully, I no longer felt nauseous, and my head didn’t hurt as much, but my temperature was still higher than normal.

I remained in bed as Harumi got ready for school. She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to me.

“I’ll be back for lunch,” Harumi said. She clasped two hands together. “I hear they’ll be having shawarma today. Are you sure you don’t want me to get you some breakfast, too?”

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied. “I can just get something from the snack drawer. Now go or you’ll be late.”

Harumi nodded. “Okay. Get well soon!”

She stepped out, closed the door, and was off to class.

I slept for another good hour after Harumi had left. When I got up, I was starving, and I took that as solid reassurance that I was feeling better. The snacks in the drawer didn’t look as filling as they were when I was down with a fever. All that sweet and salty goodness had done its magic, but I figured that it was time for a proper meal.

I put on a clean sweater and a pair of pants. Going to the cafeteria in the main campus building would be a little more complicated than imagined. The security guard at the entrance would ask why I wasn’t in class and why I wasn’t in uniform. If I said I was sick, I would only be advised to go back to the dorms.

Strangely, going to a nearby convenience store felt like the less stressful option.

I checked if I had my phone, wallet, and keys. When all was good, I stepped out of the room and locked the door. The descent down the stairs was quiet. I expected that as almost everyone would already be in class.

So I was surprised to hear such a racket as I approached the second floor.

I was too scared to move. It sounded like people were breaking into a dorm room. There was crashing, tearing, and yelling—all by male voices. Everyone knew that boys weren’t allowed in the girls’ dorms, and unlike the no-snacks rule, very few people had the guts to break it. Even the maintenance staff and security around the dorms were female. All of them.

So where did the men come from? What were they doing?

It felt like forever before I dared to approach the noise. Slowly, I peeped my head into the hall where the clamor was coming from. To my horror, men in obscure uniforms were trashing a student’s dorm. They threw the poor girl’s belongings to the floor—her books, makeup, clothes, shoes, anything they could find. The men barked at each other as one of them stood by the door giving orders. He urged them to search thoroughly, but the line between to search and to wreck had been blurred.

As they threw more items out of the room, I caught something that looked awfully familiar: a pink polka-dotted swimsuit found its place in the pile on the floor—

The same kind Rachael wore to Curtis’ party.

What followed were numerous posters— band posters—ripped in the sides and corners. Then, when an acoustic guitar crashed to the floor, I felt sick. What did these men want from Rachael, and how did they get through the dorm’s security?

“I have begun searching,” a voice then said.

It was coming from the bottom of the staircase.

As quietly as I could, I climbed a couple of steps to avoid getting caught. I hid behind the solid railing and listened intently to the conversation stirring below. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, and my breathing was all over the place. But I needed to concentrate. I needed to know what was going on.

“Excellent,” a second voice replied. “We do not believe that Ms. Chavez cannot give us the answers we want. There must be something she’s hiding from us.”

“And she’s dating our son,” a third scowled. “Can you believe it?”

The first voice cleared his throat. “Rest assured that we are doing everything we can as an institution to bring this case to rest. The dorm is this way if you’d like to see for yourselves.”

I looked over the railing and found them— their royal highnesses, as Bree had called them. Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson had returned to St. John’s, and with them was none other than the principal.

I turned around. As quickly and as quietly as I could, I went back up the stairs. Step by step, I got as far away from the Stevensons and their scary men as I could. To make things worse, the principal had allowed such a horrible thing to be done to Rachael’s dorm.

I ran like a madman and locked the door to my room. I couldn’t tell how long I just stood there. In my head, someone was pounding on my door, demanding I come out. They said that they wanted to search my room next; they knew that I had lied about the party and had erased Rachael’s memories…

I shook my head. No. I needed to call someone about what was happening. I couldn’t just hide in my dorm room and pretend I didn’t see anything.

My first thought was to message Rachael, but I remembered how she cried after her interview with the principal. I figured that she shouldn’t know what was happening until things settled down. So, I should turn to someone who would stand by her.

I picked up my phone and texted Curtis:

Hey. Your parents are here. Do you know about this? Call me ASAP.

I didn’t expect him to call me as soon as he did. He was supposed to be in class, after all. So when my phone rang in just a matter of minutes, I swallowed, thinking about how I was going to find the words to what I’d just seen.

I picked up his call. “Hello, Curtis?”

“Quinn, what?” he said on the other line, “Why are my folks here—”

His connection became unstable. I tried to listen to what he was saying, but the sporadic bursts of sound were impossible to decipher.

“Curtis, I can’t hear you,” I muttered. “Are you still there?”

More choppy audio followed.

“Yeah, yeah,” I finally heard him say. “I had to ask to go to the bathroom to call you. Signal sucks here. What are my parents doing? They’d better—obsessing about the party again.”

“They’re doing just that,” I said. “But worse. They’ve ordered a search on Rachael’s dorm.”

“What? You can’t be—”

“I saw them just now. There were these men with them that went through all of Rachael’s stuff. The principal was with them, too.”

“What the hell? Why’d he let my folks do that?”

“I think we both know the answer to that. But Curtis, they’re your parents. Do something.”

“Right. I’m on it.”

Once the line went off, I didn’t move. I sank to the floor, curling myself up against the door to my room. I was a rock blocking the entrance so that no one would see me wallow. I thought I would break down from the stress, but I just brought my face to my hands. I shook as I clutched my phone in case I needed to call for help.

Everything was my fault, wasn’t it?

The events all pointed at me: Mackenzie attacking the party, Julio being there to help me escape, Curtis’ corruption and head injury, and finally, Rachael’s lack of memories.

I was only trying to keep her safe from the weird, dangerous side of the Metropolis. When I erased her memories, I thought that I had been doing her a favor. However, I only seemed to make her scared and confused, and now, she had eventually become the focus of the Stevensons’ wrath. I felt foolish; I used to be so envious of her relationship with Curtis. I didn’t like her, sure, but I wouldn’t wish all those terrible things on her.

“Poor Quinn,” a voice said. “She only wanted to make things right, but everything ended up wrong, instead…”

I looked up. Cassandra stood tall before me, her frame blocking the light in the window. If I hadn’t felt so sad, I would have jumped realizing her presence, but now, she made me feel irritable. She became yet another thought in my head that I needed to shake off.

“I already know that, Cassandra,” I scoffed. “Now leave me alone.”

“Oh, but I’ve already been doing that,” Cassandra replied. She paced around the room like she had me held hostage in her evil lair.

“It’s been, hmm… What’s the word? Ahh, entertaining to just sit back and watch the events unfold on their own. You’re like one of those sad girls in those sad stories crafting their doom. And I didn’t even need to lift a finger for all that to happen.”

I rolled my eyes. Most of what Cassandra had said became a blur.

“So, what’s your point?” I sneered.

Cassandra stopped pacing and turned to me, her long, dark hair falling gracefully past her shoulders.

“Weren’t you listening?” she taunted. “Because of your foolishness, you had given me so much time to work on what matters most to me: to destroy this Metropolis and create one of my own. And I’ll make it happen, Quinn, even if I have to tear this world apart brick by brick…”

At that time, I had done a good job of blocking out what Cassandra was saying. Sure, she was scary and powerful, but her threats felt like empty words. Could she destroy the Metropolis? Could she beat the Author?

I doubted it. I really did.

Suddenly, my phone rang, disrupting Cassandra’s monologue. I glanced at the caller ID.

It was Bree.

I picked up, ignoring the fact that Cassandra was still there.

“Hello?”

“Vasquez,” Bree said. “You’re the one who saw those bastards trash Rachael’s dorm, right?”

“Yeah. And it was horrible.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, the principal wants to meet you about what happened.”

I swallowed. “Me? How did he know I was there? What does he—”

“Stevenson confronted the principal after you called him. But don’t sweat it, Vasquez. I’ll be there with you. Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Those words rang in my ears. I didn’t do anything wrong. What would happen if they all found out the truth? Would they still think the same way?

“Can you make it in thirty?” Bree then asked. “I’m sorry. I know you’re sick, but what those assholes did to Rachael was atrocious. Help me straighten things out.”

I winced. The only way I could make things right was by coming clean with the truth, but with Metropolitans like Bree, Rachael, and Curtis, I couldn’t do that. It would be dangerous for them.

“I understand,” I decided to reply. “I hate what they did to Rachael, too. I’ll be there.”

Bree sighed. “Thanks, Vasquez. Meet me at the main entrance. Also, I know it’s annoying, but come in uniform so that the guards will let you in.”

Then, she ended the call. I put down my phone and looked up. Cassandra had disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Just as she’d said, Bree was by the main entrance. She crossed her arms, tapping her feet on the floor as she waited for me. When she saw me, she let out a sigh.

“There you are, Vasquez,” she said.

I looked around. The halls were quiet; lunch break was still two hours away. Still, I found it strange that Bree was alone.

“Where’s Curtis?” I asked. “Shouldn’t he be here, too?”

“Stevenson’s in the parking lot talking some sense into his overlords.” Bree shrugged. “Well, at least he’s trying to.”

I nodded. “Does Rachael know what happened yet?”

Bree shook her head. “No. God, I’m worried about that. But you were right to call Stevenson first. It’s best to get things straightened out before we talk to Rachel. Speaking of which, let’s get going.”

Bree and I entered the principal’s office, which was just as freezing as the last time I’d been in there. The principal himself sat stiffly in his ginormous office chair with a stoic expression on his face. It looked like he was not looking forward to our meeting. Well, Mr. Principal, the feeling was mutual.

“Ms. Leonard, Ms. Vasquez,” he greeted us. “Please take your seats.”

Bree looked reluctant, but she sat on the leather couch in front of the principal’s desk. I followed, placing my shaky hands on my lap.

“First thing’s first,” the principal cleared his throat. “Ms. Vasquez, I am not going to take any action against you, but what were you doing in the dorms during class hours?”

I wanted to retaliate and ask what he was doing in the girls’ dorms going through the private belongings of one of his students, but I decided to remain calm for the time being. I glanced at Bree, and the expression on her face was telling me that she was feeling the same rage as I was, but she remained as still as a statue.

“I’m sick with a fever,” I replied. “I’m only here for this meeting.”

“Ah,” was all that the principal had to say. “You see, Mr. Stevenson said that you called him about Ms. Chavez’s dorm.”

“Yes.”

“And he, in turn, was the one who informed Ms. Leonard, who went to the girls’ dorms to intervene. Is everything accurate so far?”

“That’s right,” Bree said, crossing her arms. “But why is a search being done to Rachael’s dorm— without any notice—in the first place? Aren’t students entitled to their private properties?”

“That is true,” the principal replied. “That is, of course, until the school’s interest is concerned.”

I narrowed my eyes. “The school’s interest?”

“St. John’s has been plagued by the Stevensons’ mystery for far too many weeks now,” the principal went on. “Even after all those interviews, the individuals who had broken into their house are yet to be identified. Ms. Chavez stayed the longest in that house. She even said that she has witnessed a murder. So why couldn’t she help us with this case?

“And that is why the Stevensons personally requested to have her dorm searched. For all we know, she might be hiding something dangerous.”

“Nonsense!” Bree exclaimed, emerging from her seat. “If it’s the school’s interest you hide behind, then as principal of St. John’s, you should know that Ms. Rachael Chavez is a part of this school, as well. But you didn’t treat her that way today, did you? You treated her like a criminal.”

“Ms. Leonard—”

“What kind of impression do you want to leave on your students? When the student body hears about this, they‘ll be scared to leave their dorms for class. What if they came back to it destroyed? Who can they turn to? Is that what the school’s interest is to you? As student council president, I cannot stand by that disposition.”

After that, the room fell silent. The hum of the air conditioning was the only noise that remained. The temperature seemed to drop as Bree remained standing, staring the principal down.

Eventually, the principal clasped his hands on his desk. “Very well. I will convince the Stevensons to stop the search on Ms. Chavez’s dorm. But in turn, she may be asked to give a clearer description of what she saw inside their house.”

“Why don’t they just drop their conditions?” I asked. “Rachael does not owe the Stevensons anything.”

“Unfortunately, as the last one inside the house, she does. The best I can do is to request them to loosen their grip on this case.”

“They’d better,” Bree said. “I’ll have you know that their loving son, Curtis, does not condone this bullshit.”

“And I’ll have you know, Ms. Leonard, that I, in turn, do not condone swearing in my office. But I will let this slide. For now.”

The principal glared at Bree. Bree glared back. I watched to see who would win their little staring contest.

“That will be all, ladies,” the principal eventually said, losing his standoff with Bree. “Ms. Leonard, back to class. Ms. Vasquez, request a medical slip from the nurse’s office. Present it to me before you return to your dorm.”

Meeting the principal didn’t seem to do anything but reveal his true character. Bree and I both agreed to no longer trust him.

“Our only hope now is Stevenson,” Bree said. “He should be able to tell his parents to cut the crap, but I doubt it’s going to be easy. The principal’s only gonna continue to be their lapdog as long as their reign of terror lasts.”

Grimly, I nodded. From where we stood, things only seemed bound to get worse.

Lunch break that day was a testament to that statement. Curtis rushed toward Rachael the minute she stepped out of the classroom.

He apologized countless times, but he couldn’t seem to talk to her about what had happened. He would avoid her eyes every time Rachael asked what he was sorry for, so Bree and I had to step in and fill in the details.

At first, Rachael didn’t believe us. She got mad at us for saying something so ridiculous, but through her anger, I could see fear clouding her eyes. Those feelings turned into sadness the minute Bree and I brought her to her dorm room. It was hard to take in all the details: the dressers had been overturned, the mattress and pillows had been stripped off their sheets, the walls were left bare with posters torn and crumpled, and a good number of items thrown to the floor had footprints tainting their immaculate conditions.

Slowly, tears leaked from Rachael’s eyes as she stood over the wreckage. None of us said a word until Bree reached out to touch Rachael’s shoulder.

“Rachael,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Rachael didn’t respond. She began bursting out a couple of broken sobs, but before she could completely lose it, she turned around and rushed toward the dorm building’s steps.

Bree ran after her. “Rachael, wait!” she cried.

I took one last look at the room before following them out of the dorm building. Curtis and Philip were waiting for us by the entrance, and by the time I stepped out to join them, Rachael was already pouring out some harsh words at Curtis.

Once she was done, she stepped back. “Why? Why?”

Curtis winced. “I didn’t think they would do that, Rache. I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I’ll make sure my folks never do that again—”

“They destroyed my posters, Stevenson,” Rachael shrieked.

“Babe, I’ll just get you new ones—”

“That’s not the point! I hope they’re happy now, Curtis. Hope they’ve found what they were looking for.”

And at that, Rachael had reached her breaking point, and she stormed back into the girls’ dorms.

Curtis tried to reach for her, but Philip stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, man,” he said. “Let her be. What happened was not cool.”

Bree glared at Curtis, crossing her arms. “So, have you talked to your almighty parents yet?” she asked him.

“I did,” Curtis answered, looking despondent. “I know they won’t forego the investigations, but I urged them to at least leave Rachael alone. I hope they listen this time.”

Bree rolled her eyes.

Curtis then turned to me. “So, what did the principal say?”

“He said that he’ll talk to your parents, as well,” I replied. “But he thinks they’ll only stop bugging Rachael—”

“Harassing Rachael,” Bree butted in.

“—if she gives a clearer description of what she saw in that house. But what happens if she doesn’t? Your folks have already gone too far, Curtis. What else can they do?”

“Look, I wanna believe Rachael,” Curtis said, “but her sudden amnesia doesn’t sit right with me. How could she just… forget?”

“What about you, Stevenson?” Bree chided. “Do you remember anything that happened before you were knocked out cold?”

It was the question that rendered Curtis silent. He stood there, trying to come up with an answer, but he just hung his head low.

“No, no I don’t,” he said slowly. “That night was so bizarre for me.”

“For everyone,” I corrected him. “I suppose we can all agree on that. But it still wasn’t right for your parents to ransack Rachael’s room.”

Curtis nodded. “Right, and I feel really bad about it.”

It was quite ironic for Harumi to come casually toward us. With her cheerful disposition and a paper bag in her hands, she almost looked like an overgrown little girl bringing snacks to grandma.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said. “What are you doing out here? Feeling better already?” She then looked at Bree, Curtis, and Philip, and a frown found its way to her face. “Hey, are you guys okay?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” I told her. “Right now, we’re having lunch.”

“I got you shawarma. Do you still want to eat in the dorms?”

“Let’s just eat in the cafeteria. I think I’m feeling better now.” I turned to the others “Let’s go?”

“You guys go ahead,” Bree said. “I’ll check on Rachael.”

Then she disappeared into the girls’ dorms.

Harumi furrowed her brows. “What’s wrong with Rachael?”

“Lunch,” Curtis said. “Then we’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Philip said.

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