Boundless I
**This story is also on Wattpad and Chapters**
Quinn’s life was governed by logic, and now it was falling apart.
“What do you mean it doesn’t have to include the term ‘essential’? That would deconstruct the entire argument; you see my problem?” Quinn’s at the dining table of his friend Anler’s caravan with a plate containing a slice of plain toast, slivers of avocado and iced milk. The seasoned fruit was now browning as he stared at his laptop screen in despair.
The others—Vance, Gaia and Annaïse—try to reason with him. Quinn is not swayed by opinion nearly as much as he is by fact. Be that as it may, he is also a spiritual and religious man, which critics would argue is a condition of contradiction.
“How about we close that there device and talk about the events as of late?”
Annaïse suggests this as a distraction. She takes interest in anything that can only be described as hazardous or risqué, there is seldom an in-between.
Annaïse cuts everyone off before they have the chance to speak. “Ah-Ah, before you shoot me down…these cases are different. Each killing is gaining on us. One of said- killings are only a block away from our houses, well, mine. Like whatever’s going on is taunting us.”
They blink at this.
“Annaïse, just because you make far-stretched observations, does not mean that we are meant to become some quintessential, young investigators—” Gaia flails her hands about in emphasis, Vance finishing the sentence for her. “Who are destined for that exact circumstance. You are the only one who thinks this way.”
The group are parked on the side of an avenue where ‘bustling’ is the last word which can be used to describe it.
“Almost, true.” Anler intervenes. “I’m not one to cross boundaries and start snooping where I’m not supposed to, but I like that stuff too.”
Anler is an androgynous girl who always has her blonde-dyed hair hidden in some eccentric hat. She often dresses like an aspiring adventurer or a fisher, with vests containing up to twenty-one pockets--well, just the one-and combat boots or boat shoes with an unpressed khaki or nice slacks.
It helps that there is always a pair of sunglasses placed above her head. A relevant example would be the ones up there in the very moment.
“While you two work your way into becoming Nesw's next victims, I will be sitting arguably nonchalant in the lounge chair next to my Father, convincing him to let me borrow one of his cars so I can work my way into staying alive.” Vance tries to deter everyone from the initial topic surged.
He is the eldest of this circle, as the only one set to graduate at 19. Vance happened to start school a year late, and never fails to tell everyone he meets who asks him for his age.
“Your baby cousin doesn’t even trust you to hold her dolls.” Quinn says. This was an attack at his lack of responsibility and it was meant to bruise him.
“Worry about your college essay, and lemme worry about my way with words. I’ve got two cars; I can get me another.”
Vance has straight, chestnut brown hair that he readjusts every time he turns his head. The main things he cares about are his mechanical and drivers license and girlfriend, whom no one but his parents have ever met, yet never once claimed to.
“Not that I don’t, but…why do we care about what’s happened ‘as of late’?” Gaia asks the group.
“Had you been listening, you’d know we’ve got a lot of planning to do; we should be ready for anything.” Annaïse jabs. Gaia mimics a surrender and drops her hands, quickly abandoning the façade.
There is nothing significant on this day, yet Gaia sports a rich brown cocktail dress and a glimmery shawl along with matching earrings; her tight coils tied in a low bun.
She is told she looks and acts like a princess—although fitting—this is not always a compliment. Gaia tends to form her own opinions through everyone else’s, and recognises the irrationality of this trait.
Gaia is no different from any girl on a journey of finding herself, she’s only taking it at her own, heavily measured, pace.
“As the only person who seems to see the trouble here, I will warn you all to keep a watchful eye peeled.” This is said in complete seriousness as everyone busies themselves with their nail file, laptop, phone.
Annaïse glowers. “Ignore me all you want, but if you go out, never be alone.” She says this ahead of her time.
Annaïse is a skeptic, because “there has to be one in every group of friends,” quoted from her.
She is a matured young woman with wavy red-dyed hair that sits just above her shoulders. If it touches instead of hovers, it is time for a trim. She refuses to let it grow any longer, and has for the last year.
If Annaïse’s hair isn’t in two “bunny ears” or braids, she’s got on a skimpy skirt to preserve her—well passed—youthful appearance.
After an insipid start to the unorthodox projection of Annaïse, more important news has risen.
The friends learn of a boy, their age, who was found dead at Acre Park—the one they call home. This newfound discovery is thanks to Quinn who allowed Gaia to use his laptop for research.
They aren’t labelled, but he belongs to her, unconditionally.
Quinn has a funny way of thinking; he believes that Gaia is too good to be his. Even if they share a promise ring, occasionally a bed.
There is no knowing when he will confess, and she is perfectly okay with waiting, because he has never given anyone else his silent vow.
“Acre Park, as in ours? Would it be crazy of us to go poke around?” Annaïse asks.
“Considering he was found less than 12 hours ago, and the crime scene can only be described as 'fresh'—it wouldn’t just be insane..” Quinn drags the word. “I believe the word you’re looking for, is illicit, you know not legal.” Vance interjects.
“Like we haven’t all broken the law before—hold Gaia—but we’re not all royals.” Annaïse’s hands speak, scolding Vance. “Anler? What’re you thinking?” She turns with force to the young woman.
Everyone awaits her response.
Anler is spread like a starfish on the floor of her caravan with one knee in the air. “Hm? Er, do what you want, dude.” This tenses the air. “You’re the only person that could back me up here and you aren’t even listening; the least you could do is play along!” She reprimands, but gets no answer.
It prompts Annaïse to scoff in frustration as the peaceful Anler admires her passion through lazy-lidded eyes.
“In what world would you be so convinced that the sheriff would allow minors to examine their work while present?” She beams at Quinn’s theoretical approach. “Do you know when they should be gone? Ignoring the possibility of overtime, of course.”
Annaïse and Anler are the only ones smiling. The latter is much more casual than her crazed friend.
“Criminals work around the clock, if that answers your question.” Gaia reminds.
“The biggest problem is this van’s the only vehicle I’m allowed to drive because it’s paid off. Anyone can spot it a kilometre away, we need something more discreet.”
Anler turns to Vance, who’s lit a cigarette simply to watch it burn. The windows are open, so the pungency is faint.
‘All Time Low’ by Jon Bellion is tuned lowly as Vance looks over at his friend. “I don't have the car shop yet, girl.”
He shakes his head and Annaïse storms over to him, grabbing his still cryptic face.
“Vance, if we can find a way in without—“
“--Why, do you so solemnly want to see yourself in prison overalls, Bun?” He pulls away, freeing himself from her grasp.
“Why are you the only one with a job? Why is Anler our Lyft, even though we all have cars? Because we do what we want, and sometimes it’s unreasonable, but this is our last year to do something exiting!” She laughs to herself.
“Speak for yourself, every endeavour is what you make of it.” Quinn counters.
Gaia is now over by Quinn in the booth holding his hand as she plays with the thick steel rings encircling his fingers. Her golden promise ring with a jade stone centre juxtaposes his stainless silver one, an onyx carved jewel at the pinnacle.
She plays with the metal band, spinning it around on his finger. He analyses her doing so.
“I am not risking anything, especially because I’m not a minor anymore, nor I do look it. You still are, and pretty privilege is real. Exercise it without my help.” Vance suggests this as Annaïse is still in front of Vance, on her knees, when she plops down and pouts.
“Annaïse, just because I’ve admitted your..allure, doesn’t mean you can reverse-psychology me.” He turns his head away from her beady eyes.
“Maybe…” Anler sits upright. “It can be just the two of us, me and Annaïse, then we can report back to you guys about our findings?”
“…Didn’t you tell everyone here that you’re not dumb enough to act on distasteful urges?” Vance argues.
“Firstly, ouch. And secondly, all I will be including myself in, is a little game of 'find out and see.' It’s called inquiring; maybe with only me and her digging, we can fish around a little easier than everyone would at once. At least in the beginning.”
Quinn makes a statement.
“I care about the safety of myself and others, so I will not so much as tread lightly in those waters. This means I won't encourage your plan, nor will I let you two drag Gaia into this mess.”
She smiles at the declaration and lays her head on his shoulder.
“This is your mindset now…if we find any data worth your interest, you may switch teams.”
“Highly unlikely.”
His assurance brings the conversation to a rightful close. Anler drops everyone but Annaïse off and drives them to her house.
