The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra

THE WEEKEND came faster than I thought it would. It felt as if it had only been yesterday since I last talked to Julio at The MacGuffin, yet there I was making my way to the café to meet him once again.

I stepped outside the campus and waited for a bus. While I was there, I heard a familiar voice amidst the Saturday morning traffic.

“Look, I know it’s bad,” the voice said. “But a job’s a job.”

I turned around to find Philip just a few feet away. He was on the phone with his back turned against me. As he listened to the person on the other line, he paced back and forth on the sidewalk.

“I know you’re worried, but you’ve got to trust Mr. Simon. She’ll never find the archives…”

Archives? I thought Philip worked for an ice cream parlor. How important could those archives be?

“Anyway, I’m on my way,” Philip said. There was a pause as the person on the other line spoke. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Then he hung up.

Curiosity made me want to approach him. I wanted to pretend that I had merely bumped into him on the way to the convenience store. Then I would probably commence small talk until he would trust me enough to tell me what he was up to. I suppose I would eventually figure everything out, but fate had decided it wasn’t time for that yet.

A bus had pulled up in front of me, letting off a few passengers.

With one last look at Philip, I boarded the vehicle, and when I looked out the window, he was gone.

The ride to The MacGuffin was shorter than I thought it would be. I was barely able to pick a seat on the bus when I spotted the café out the window, its signboard pompously declaring its existence. I got off before the conductor could ticket me, so I hastily gave my fare to the bus driver.

The MacGuffin was the same as I had left it. The senior citizens I had seen the week before were there again, and aside from a few other people, the place was relatively silent and empty. When I glanced toward the front counter, however, I noticed that Ms. Louise wasn’t there. Someone else had taken over her usual position, and for a while, I thought they’d go ballistic and attack me for being Cassandra’s look-alike. Eventually, I knew I had to stop worrying about that. My hair had been cut short, and I no longer saw Cassandra’s face whenever I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was able to give my order to that new person without a hitch, thankful that she didn’t pull a knife on me like Ms. Louise had done. I took my seat, waiting for Julio to enter the café. Little did I know that I would encounter another familiar face, but I should have expected his presence in the first place. He was one of The MacGuffin’s workers, after all.

When he saw me, he squinted his eyes. “Quinn? Whoa, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Takahiro, hey!” I waved. “How’s it going?”

Julio brought me to Takahiro when he had suspicions that my roommate, Harumi, sided with Cassandra. He thought that Takahiro could translate the notebook Harumi had left behind, but the only thing we found out about her was the fact that her real name was Yukine. She used to reside in the Spanish House before she escaped into the Metropolis to observe Cassandra, who she claimed to be friends with back in the day.

Little did she realize, however, that Cassandra would later be the cause of her demise. She had pushed Harumi into the Lethe, a river where the Author’s characters were meant to be reborn. However, since Harumi wasn’t a Metropolitan, touching the river’s waters only meant one thing for her:

Corruption. Then obliteration.

Julio and Takahiro made that clear to me, but I still couldn’t believe that Harumi was just… gone.

“Things are okay,” Takahiro said. “Well, better than I thought they’d be. Quiet, actually. There’s been no sign of Cassandra since she crashed that party, but that isn’t stopping us from being vigilant.”

When he finished, the bell on the café’s door rang, and someone new entered the place. A cap covered this person’s eyes, her hair tucked into the brim. She wore a dark sweatshirt, faded jeans, and loafers. It looked like she wanted to come unseen, like a shadow disappearing as swiftly as it had arrived, but The MacGuffin’s bright morning ambiance made her all the more conspicuous. Some of her hair strands had fallen loose from her hat, catching some sunlight from the glass windows.

The hair was curly. Just like Rachael’s.

I looked again, and the stranger was about Rachael’s height, too. Could it be?

“Quinn,” Takahiro said. “What are you looking at?”

I didn’t answer right away. I spent the next few seconds watching the Rachael look-alike approach the front counter to make her order. I tried to listen to what her voice sounded like, but she was too far away for me to hear anything.

“Takahiro,” I finally said. “Do you think that’s Rachael?”

Takahiro fixed his gaze on the front counter. He stroked his chin. “Hmm… can’t really tell.”

“She hasn’t gone to school since the party,” I explained. “My schoolmates say it’s trauma, but…”

I trailed off. I guess it made sense for Rachael to be at The MacGuffin. Ms. Louise had said that people would find the café for comfort, and looking once more at the newly arrived customer, it definitely looked like she needed some cheering up. Her head was low, and her movements were slow and timid. She picked up her coffee cup from the front counter and took a seat at a table near us. Aside from the sporadic sips of coffee, she remained eerily still.

“I see,” Takahiro said. “It’s actually rare for a Metropolitan as prominent as Rachael Chavez to find The MacGuffin on their own, even if she needed all the comfort in the world. They’re just farther away from our spectrum, you know?”

I then wanted to talk about how Bree seemed to find The MacGuffin on her own, as well, but Takahiro did say it was rare. That didn’t mean it wasn’t possible.

“Look, Quinn,” Takahiro added. “I have to get back to work. It was nice talking to you, though.”

I nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Takahiro. Good luck!”

The boy waved, disappearing behind the counter.

Shortly after, Julio arrived at The MacGuffin. This was the second week in a row of dumping his usual hoodie. He came in a black V-neck and camouflage pants, looking more like a soldier than a sulky teenage boy. I greeted him, and he took the seat right across mine.

“Any updates?” he asked.

I talked about the art club, Curtis returning to school from the hospital, and Rachael prolonging her absence for another week. As expected, he was most interested in Rachael, so I told him how she had finally called Curtis after weeks of silence. According to Curtis, she had nightmares and wouldn’t talk to him about the party until she was comfortable.

Julio nodded solemnly. “I hope she’s okay,” he said. “I’m worried about her, but obviously, there’s not much I can do.”

I snuck a glance at the girl at the nearby table—the girl who could be Rachael. She still hadn’t lifted her head. She shook her cup slightly, mixing the contents at the bottom. Her coffee’s almost done. She’s probably about to leave.

I tried to ignore her, resisting the urge to mention her to Julio. I knew it wouldn’t help him, and if that girl really was Rachael, their meeting would probably lead to confusion on both their ends—just like back at the party.

A MacGuffin employee then approached us, placing my order on the table. I thanked them as Julio gazed at my breakfast.

“Tapsilog?” he said. “Again?”

I took my first bite. “It’s good. And they don’t have this at St. John’s.”

Julio continued to stare at my food. “You know what? You’re making me hungry. Let me just grab something to eat.”

“Okay.”

He got up and walked to the front counter. He had barely made it a few feet from our table when he collided with another customer, knocking the coffee cup off her hands. What little liquid remained in the small paper vessel spilled to the floor, staining the customer’s loafers. It was only when Julio and the customer bent down to clean the mess did I realize what was going on.

The customer was the girl who looked like Rachael.

“Sorry, Miss,” Julio said. “You okay?”

The events that followed felt like they had come straight out of a young adult romance novel. (Unless the Metropolis was a romance novel.) Julio reached out his hand to pick up the coffee cup, and so did the customer. Their hands touched, and their eyes met.

As the customer fixed her gaze on him, she revealed her eyes. They were a pair of sunken orbs catching light, confirming this mysterious customer’s identity.

Julio’s eyes widened. “Rachael?”

“How did you know my name?” Rachael asked, curiosity clouding her eyes. She looked at Julio like he was some sort of discovery, like she had been living on a barren planet and he was the first human she found.

When she blinked, however, the splendor in her eyes dissipated as she narrowed them.

“Hang on,” she snarled, pulling her hand away. “I know you…”

Before Julio could retreat, Rachael lifted her hand and sent a slap right across his face. It was so hard that it had sent a thundering sound right across The MacGuffin. Everyone snuck glances at what was going on, only to return to being nonchalant after assessing the situation. Indeed, the cheesy young adult romance novel had turned into a teleserye in a matter of seconds.

Rage propelled Rachael to her feet, and she pointed an indignant finger at the boy in front of her.

“You crashed my boyfriend’s party,” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “And he turned into some sort of freak!”

Behind her, I found Takahiro waving frantically at me from the front counter, making X’s with his arms and mouthing the words, “Stop her! Stop her…”

Rachael then reached into a small clutch bag and pulled out her phone. She fumbled her thumbs aggressively as she tried to unlock the device. “When Curtis hears about this, he would—”

“Rachael, don’t,” I lunged, placing a hand on her phone.

“And who are—” Rachael narrowed her eyes, and the fury seemed to melt away. “Quinn…?”

“Before you call Curtis,” I said, stopping myself before I could finish. I wanted to say “let me explain,” but I knew that was a death sentence. If I explained why Rachael shouldn’t call Curtis, I needed to explain who Julio was, but doing so required me to reveal what the Metropolis was. Do you see how messy things would turn out?

I looked at Julio to see if he had any better ideas, and without a word, he gestured his head toward The MacGuffin’s main exit.

Let’s get outta here, he seemed to say.

Yeah, that seemed like a better plan.

“Bye,” I told Rachael. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. I grabbed Julio’s hand we ran out of The MacGuffin, ignoring all the stares from the other customers.

“Vasquez!” Rachael shrieked.

We didn’t wait for her next move. Obviously, she would call Curtis and tell him about her most recent discovery. Takahiro would probably try to stop her, but damage control was almost impossible.

As I followed Julio into his car, we could still hear Rachael’s voice from inside the café.

“I found him, Curtis,” she said. “I still don’t know who he is, but he’s in a café not far from St. John’s…”

Julio cringed, burying his head into the steering wheel. “This is going to be messy,” he groaned.

I, on the other hand, remained strangely optimistic about the situation. “Wouldn’t she forget who you are? It only takes a matter of minutes for Metropolitans to forget about Forgotten Ones, right?”

“Sure, she’ll forget about me, but she won’t forget seeing me, which is different. She might keep looking for The MacGuffin to find me, and we cannot trust that the shop will be hidden from her forever. Who knows how many times she’d been to this place? We’d have a Metropolitan infiltrating our territory, and it might rip the fabric of this universe as we speak.”

“Really?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But this world can be unpredictable. With the weirdness I’d seen, it’s best not to be complacent.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t stand the silence that came afterward. Julio then looked at me with a glint in his eyes that I didn’t like.

I looked at him. “What?”

“Remember what I said at the party?”

“You said a lot of things at the party.”

“The important one.”

My eyes widened. “If things go wrong, rewind time…?”

Julio nodded. “Exactly.”

Well, things had definitely gone wrong with Rachael at The MacGuffin, but ever since the party, I had lost faith in my powers.

“I can only seem to go back a few seconds at will,” I said.

“It’s worth a shot,” Julio suggested. “Try going back as far back as you can.”

I concentrated, catching a glimpse of Rachael’s silhouette on The MacGuffin’s window, her arms animated as she talked to Curtis on the phone…

◀◀

When I opened my eyes, I found Julio sitting across me. I looked down to find the tapsilog I ordered. I hadn’t started eating it. Meanwhile, Rachael, with her baseball cap and sweatshirt, got up to throw away her empty coffee cup.

Julio sighed with relief. “Good job, Quinn. You did it.”

It took Julio’s words for me to process what had happened. I stared at my hands, both in wonder and disbelief of what I’d done. Before I knew it, a smile crept onto my lips, and I was grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t stay still in my seat.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “Did that really happen?”

Julio smiled. “It did. What did you do differently this time?”

“I dunno. I… concentrated? But I always concentrate.”

Julio leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Look at all the times you tried to control time but couldn’t. When Cassandra possessed Tamara. When Mackenzie was attacking you…”

I pulled down the sleeves of my sweater, hiding the scars I had gotten from that incident. “What are you saying?”

“What were you feeling when you turned back time just now?”

I shrugged. “Pretty normal, I guess.”

“What were you thinking of?”

“That I needed to turn back time?”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

Julio pursed his lips and leaned against the table. “Well, Quinn, to use your powers, what if you needed to clear your mind? Maybe it would be possible to rewind all the way to the party.”

“The furthest I’ve gone is an entire day,” I reasoned. “The party was two weeks ago.”

“Ah,” he then mused. He didn’t need to say it, but I could tell that he was disappointed with my answer.

“From the looks of it,” he continued, “the party is causing confusion among students at St. John’s. I’m actually surprised that no one has been corrupted yet.”

At that moment, Rachael left The MacGuffin. I caught a glimpse of her stepping out the door and disappearing into the busy street.

Julio sighed and leaned back against his chair, crossing his arms. “What’s worse is that the party had to happen at Stevenson’s place. I’m sure his parents are relentless about finding out who crashed their house. They’re probably harassing the principal right now for any leads of some sort.”

“Well, if anyone crashed into my house,” I said, “I’d like to know who they were.”

“Yes, but the point is that they can’t find out. They can’t know who I am. Once they do—” Julio snapped his fingers. “It’s over.”

I poked at my breakfast with my fork. The yolk of the egg broke and spilled all over my rice.

“Why are you suddenly so worried about this?” I asked. “Last week, you were so chill because you didn’t exist.”

“Well, that was before Rachael caught me and immediately called Stevenson,” Julio replied. “Not to mention all the hints that she may be remembering who I am. Ugh, I cannot deal with this right now…”

My head jerked upward. “Wait… you’re finally admitting that she may be remembering you?”

He just grumbled.

“What happened to your constant denial?”

“I couldn’t think of any logical reason as to why she would remember me,” Julio said. “And I still can’t. But things are different now. Rachael had seen me up close at the party. She remembered my face when she bumped into me. What if she remembers everything about me… about us…?”

I somehow knew that the world would explode— exaggerating—if Rachael were to find out who Julio was, but I never understood the gravity of the situation until he finally brought it up.

“So…” I mused, biting my lip. “You want me to undo the party?”

“If you can,” Julio said. “It would be good for you to get a grip on your powers. I’m sure they’d be helpful against Cassandra someday.”

“Yeah, but—” I looked down at my hands. I felt uncomfortable. “Julio, I’d need to go back two weeks, and that’s not even considering the time it would take for me to learn how to control my powers.”

“You can do it. Just clear your head.”

“But what if… Julio, what if I like this timeline?”

I felt like I just dropped a bomb. Julio’s smile faded, and the obscure confidence in my powers diminished.

“Sure, I hate how Cassandra killed Mackenzie,” I quickly added. “I don’t like how the school still talks about the party, and having to join a club to graduate sucks. But other than that, I realize that I’ve been more at peace with myself for these past couple of days, and I can’t seem to trade that off. Plus, I’m afraid that things will get worse in the new timeline…”

My words hung in the air as Julio remained silent. After a piercing few seconds, he nodded, placing his arms on the table.

“I understand,” he said. “But think about it, or at least try to get a hang of your powers.”

“I know. But just thinking about it gets me worked up.”

The sky could attest to that. Clouds swirled around the bright morning sky, draping a blanket over the sun’s light. The new atmosphere loomed over The MacGuffin, draining out the colors from its walls and furniture. Harumi once said that I could influence the weather with my emotions. I didn’t always notice it, though. For one thing, I thought it was preposterous, but I had once gotten so distraught that I had caused a typhoon and postponed St. John’s Founding Festival. I’m glad that never happened again.

Julio pursed his lips. “If things don’t go as planned, do this.”

He pulled out a small vial from his pocket. The vessel contained some sort of clear liquid, and with one look, I recognized what it was.

“Lethe water?” I mouthed.

Julio nodded.

Not only did the liquid grant a second chance at life to the Author’s forgotten characters (Author’s permission required), but it also served as a cure for Metropolitans when they get corrupted. That was what Julio used to subdue Curtis when the latter turned into a monster at the party.

The drawback, however, was memory loss. Curtis didn’t seem to recall the last few hours of the party, but he was better off that way.

Then there was Rachael, who had no memory of her relationship with Julio after jumping into the Lethe. That was one of the sadder examples.

Julio swirled the vial in his fingers. It looked slightly taller than the one he had shown me after the party.

“I don’t know if this will work,” Julio began. “But if Rachael goes back to school, talk to her about what she saw at the party. What I looked like. How she felt when she saw me. By theory, that should put me in her most recent memories. Then, I don’t know, get her a drink or something and slip some Lethe water into it. Be careful not to get some on yourself, though.”

He handed me the vial. It felt cold in my fingers, so cold that despite the humidity outside, goosebumps covered my arms, and the hair on my nape stood.

“Milkshakes and iced tea were her favorites,” Julio added.

I nodded, putting the vial into my bag. The plan was simple, but I felt nervous about the fact that I needed to talk to Rachael. We were on speaking terms, sure, but I didn’t exactly think we were close enough for her to talk about her problems and for me to treat her to a drink.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. It sounded reassuring enough, but it did not exactly establish commitment. It was just the way I liked it.

Thankfully, Julio seemed to take it. He nodded, and even if his lips were devoid of a smile, his eyes glinted.

“I’ll lay low for the time being,” he said. “I don’t want any more problems to arise from this situation. Send me a plane once you have any updates, and I’ll meet you outside St. John’s.”

Ah yes, Julio’s peculiar method of communication: sending paper airplanes across the sky. It bothered me that Julio never explained how those planes worked. He only said that forgotten characters like him couldn’t use phones. The device would short-circuit if they tried to touch it.

“This may sound silly,” I decided to say, “but how will you know it’s from me?”

And with that, Julio just smiled.

“Oh, I’ll know,” he said. “The plane will find me, Quinn. Trust me.”