Chapter 24
MILLER
Isent Mason over to Quinn’s house to do some, well, spying. There was no other way to describe it. I’d asked Quinn what color dress she was wearing to the Homecoming Dance in the pretence that I would color coordinate with some flowers.
But I had no intention of buying flowers.
Mason had to go into her room and check out her Squishmallows.
With her collection being in the hundreds, it wasn’t going to be easy to see what she didn’t have, but if he could take photos of blue Squishmallows it would help my selection.
Quinn’s dress was royal blue. She said she’d only worn it once and that was to Celeste’s birthday party last year.
I applauded myself for having the brains to search for Celeste’s social media accounts and google her birthday party.
Sure enough, there were photos of Quinn wearing a short floaty dress with thin straps and a bow at the back.
Mason was asking if he could borrow some dragon books and to get into her room, he was to say he’d like to see her bookshelves. I’d been into the Devereaux house during the week but hadn’t made it up the stairs, not with Mrs. Devereaux’s eagle eyes on me.
Quinn said her mother liked me, but the evidence was thin.
Every smile seemed wary, every greeting a little forced, and I wasn’t convinced that I was no longer the enemy neighbor.
Quinn said that’s just how she was; that Botox treatments had ruined her smile and her skepticism was a hangover from her Country Club days.
Mason’s spy tactics were truly impressive.
Up in her room, he scouted her books, then fell into a coughing fit.
Knowing he was prone to asthma attacks, Quinn offered to get him a glass of water and as she dashed downstairs, he snapped photos of her Squishmallow collection, lined up on the shelves by colors.
I’d never been more jealous of my brother in all my life.
One sip of water cured Mason’s cough and I waited an agonizing twenty minutes before he came home with the photos and two books.
I scoured those photos like an expert detective looking for a clue and before I knew it, I’d gone down the rabbit hole that is Squishmallows.
My first thought had been to get the Squishmallow with her name, but it was obvious she would already have Quinn (there were in fact two, Quinn the Fox and Quinn the Kangaroo.) Which is why I’d gone for one to match her dress.
But learning that they all had stories, I now wanted to find the perfect one for her.
Overambitious? Yes. Crazy? Definitely. With over three thousand Squishmallows, it wasn’t going to be easy, and even if I found the perfect one, would it arrive on time?
Or would she already have it? It would have made more sense to go to the mall and look, but I was determined to torture myself by doom scrolling through pages and pages of Squishmallows.
Going by blueness and cuteness alone, I favored Ronello, Linnea and Lux the Manta Ray, but she had all those. And then my next choice, Eva the Bunny wouldn’t arrive in time if I ordered it online.
After midnight and with my wrists burning from pain—arghh, they were so sore—I resigned myself to do what I’d been hoping to avoid—going to the mall. My quest to find the perfect Squishmallow and impress Quinn looked to be fading.
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, I was thinking 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 ME about 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.
“Yeah, Quinn would like it.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, “Like she’d get it? She won’t think I’m weird for giving her a bag of apples?”
Mason shook his head, probably not realizing how nerve-racking all of this was for me. “She’d highlighted that part in the book.”
“What does that mean?”
“She liked it. It was a part she wanted to remember.”
I blinked and shook my head, but nevertheless asked, “Do we have any apples? Can you remember? Should I buy some?” It occurred to me that I was actually considering this.
Yeah, I was going to make Hamish play a dragon and give Quinn a bag of apples.
And why? Because I was crazy about her and wanted to impress her.
The plan was to send Hamish down Quinn’s driveway just ahead of me.
We were driving to the dance in her car.
Hamish had been quite cooperative with the red wings that Mason had attached to his collar to give off dragon vibes, and training him to carry the bag had been easy enough after we removed some of the apples.
The bag now contained two apples and Felix the Squishmallow.
Mason was coming too, because he’d bring Hamish back home.
“There’s a lot of effort gone into this,” Dad said as he patted Hamish who was lapping up all the attention he was receiving.
“It was Mase’s idea,” I said quickly, checking myself in the mirror as I doubted myself for the twentieth time.
Why hadn’t I just bought flowers? Flowers were good, solid, acceptable.
This was just setting myself up for cringeworthy moment—a dragon dog carrying a bag of apples and a Squishmallow she probably already had.