Page 77 of Enemy Crush
I wasn’t a fan of shopping unless it was for car or bike stuff, so going into a department store and looking at toys was daunting. Terrifying, even.
But I’d do it for Quinn.
Because Friday was going to be madness with the pep rally and football game, I drove to the mall on Thursday evening, convincing Mason to tag along. Hopefully, it would be less embarrassing looking at soft toys with my brother. Entering the aisle with Squishmallows was like being thrust into another world. A few weeks ago, I had no idea that these things existed and now the search for the perfect one was consuming my whole life. I’d thought I would buy a mini size like the ones Quinn clipped onto her bag but Squishmallows came in an assortment of sizes from small to big and cuddly. Mason said she had big ones on her bed.
Forty five minutes later and I still couldn’t make a decision. I’d find one, google its story, but so far hadn’t found the perfect fit.
“I don’t remember seeing a pancake one,” Mason said, holding up a brown and cream one that consisted of a stack of three pancakes. “This is Rayen.”
I googled Rayen to find she was a designer who loved fashion trends, and sure, Quinn was into fashion, but...
“Gahhh, I dunno. It’s impossible to pick the perfect one,” I sighed.
“Well, can’t you give her more than one? Or can’t you afford it?”
“Yeah I can afford it,” I mumbled, hating the accusation that I was cheap. After working the harvest and the market, my bank account was better than ever, but Mase was right. Maybe I didn’t have to find the perfect one. “What do think of this?” I held up a white and pink one, not sure if it was a dog or a cat, but I liked that there were two hearts on its belly.
“Yeah, it’s good,” Mason said.
“Okay,” I read on my phone, “Felix is a dog who loves playing soccer, watching baseball and fixing his motorcycle. Hey, so Quinn likes soccer and I like motorcycles.”
“And she likes Hamish,” Mason said.
I nodded. “And Hamish likes her. Felix is basically a combination of the both of us. I wonder if she has him.”
“I don’t remember seeing him, but she did have a lot.”
“I should just choose something,” I mumbled, squishing Felix in my hand, second guessing myself. “But those pancake ones are cute too. I don’t know what she’d like.”
“I think Quinn loves all Squishmallows,” Mason said. “If it was me, I’d buy her a family of pancake ones.”
I watched Mason collect up four pancake Squishmallows in different colors, two big, two small, like he was assembling a little family. I stretched out my shoulders, tension slicing through me as the time felt right to mention our mother.
“Hey, did Dad tell you that if you want to get in touch with Mom, you can. I’m not gonna stop you. You can do what you want.” I didn’t deliberately try to speak with an edge but it seemed to come naturally whenever I talked about Mom.
“I don’t wanna,” he said in a small voice.
“But if you want to, you can,” I said, practically urging him to. “I won’t be mad at you or anything.”
“Do you wanna see her, Miller?”
I shook my head. “Not right now. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“I only wanna see her if you do.”
“Well...” my throat bobbed, “...maybe one day.” I gently squished Felix in my hand.
“I’ll wait then,” Mason said and turned back to the pancake family, “these ones?”
I smiled because my chest felt lighter, and crazily, Iwasthinking of buying Quinn the family of pancakes, even though I’d been brought up to be frugal with money, which happens when your Dad is paying off a mortgage and raising two boys on his own. Parting with my money didn’t come easily for non-essential items and I’d already deemed the soft toys as frivolous. But my view had changed; I could see that Squishmallows weren’t just a trend or collectible to Quinn, they were more, a comfort. I’d seen how it had empowered Mason and I’d noticed the way Quinn squished hers when she was anxious, like when her best friend confronted her at the market. Quinn had squeezed her Squishmallow so tight it was a wonder its seams didn’t burst. Before I could talk myself out of it, Mason found a gift bag for them.
I guess it was decided—I was giving Quinn all the Squishmallows.
MASON WAS TELLING MEabout how in the Silver Dragon book that he was reading, Prince Vindex sent his dragon to give a magical crystal to the girl he liked because he was under a curse and couldn’t leave his palace. Vindix hid the crystal in a bag of apples so that it looked like a regular produce delivery and no one would suspect it contained the crystal. Apparently dragons were like UPS.
“You could get Hamish to take Quinn a bag of apples and hide the Squishmallow in it,” Mason said. “That’d be cool.”
“Would it?” It’s not that I didn’t entirely trust my brother but his idea of cool didn’t exactly match mine.
