2 Fuzzy, 2 Furious by Shannon Hale
“But it’s for a hundred-dollar gift card!” someone shouted.
And the group took up the idea, shouting about gift cards, and then started shouting at each other again, their postures aggressive, their domesticated-pets insults fiery. Geoff jolted forward as if to join them. She squeezed Geoff’s head between her feet. He squeaked and held still.
“Look, look, I get it!” she said. “Gift cards are, like, one of the best things on the planet, right?”38
The crowd nodded.
“But, um, fighting people to get gift cards is so not cool. So, stop it?”
The crowd murmured.
“I mean, stop it!” she said with her fists on her hips, like her mother when she was shouting at the TV news. “Go on home, guys. I’m serious. Squirrel Girl is here and I’m not going to let any of you bash heads or punch faces or whip chains and whatnot.”
The crowd seemed to believe she was not going to let them commit idle acts of violence. And she was clearly drawing the line at whatnot. So with no other real reason to be there, they began to disperse. The orange-shirted group headed in one direction, the yellow-shirted ones in another.
“So, can I go, too?” asked Geoff.
“Honestly, Geoff,” she said, “you’d think standing on your shoulders for a few minutes was such a big deal.” She hopped down. “Be good.”
“Okaaaay!” he said as he ran off.
And Squirrel Girl found herself alone in the parking lot. She sighed and took out her phone.
SQUIRREL GIRL
I talked them out of fighting! Sort of. They didn’t seem 100% convinced
ANA SOFÍA
People are acting extra weird lately right? It’s not just me?
SQUIRREL GIRL
No u r not the only one acting extra weird
ANA SOFÍA
Ha ha
SQUIRREL GIRL
Ur right everyone needs to calm the freak down but when I tell them to calm the freak down they don’t do it
ANA SOFÍA
Maybe we need a plan b
SQUIRREL GIRL
I thought plan b was when i punch them till they stop criming
ANA SOFÍA
We’re gonna need more plans
Everything was completely quiet. Ana Sofía’s bed was perfectly cozy. She closed her eyes and waited for the gray wash of exhaustion to roll beneath her, rock her like a boat on water, and then pull her under to float, weightless, in the cola-dark ocean of sleep.
Only that didn’t happen. Because of her knotted-up stomach.
Ana Sofía frowned at herself in the dark. She didn’t believe in instinct. What some called instinct she figured was actually knowledge and experience that the brain processed superfast. But still…something about the Chester Yard Mall just felt off. She had to find real, concrete data either to support or refute this nagging feeling, or she wasn’t going to get any sleep whatsoever. And sleep was one of her top five favorite things.39
So she sat up in bed, booted up her laptop, and began to poke around the comments on the Friendbook mall post. There were some new ones she hadn’t seen, including:
Jerry
I am gainfully employed by the fine Chester Yard Mall and look forward to sharing with this upstanding community the many hot hot deals on opening day. So many hot hot deals you must be there to see.
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
She tracked the origin of the comment, and that’s where things got interesting. It appeared that mall-employee Jerry had been on the “dark net” when he submitted his comment. The dark net was basically a secret internet for nefarious purposes. A breeding ground for villains. She knew this for a fact because when she’d hacked her way into Baddit, a villain forum on the dark net, she’d happened upon this convo:
BADDIT> Battle Tips
KRAVEN
EXCUSE PLEASE I AM LOOKING FOR FORKED BLADE SPEAR WITH SPIKED DORSAL RIDGE
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
LOKI
Alas, cutlery is not sold here. This spot, ’tis for sharing “battle tips,” as the title of the chat room so graciously indicates
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KRAVEN
FORKED BLADE SPEAR WITH SPIKED RIDGE HAS BATTLE TIP. ON THE TIP OF THE SPEAR
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
LOKI
Verily. Though in this case, “tip” means “advice.” English can be such a cruel language to new learners, DO NOT AGREE YOU?
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KRAVEN
I ADVICE YOU NOT TO TAUNT KRAVEN THE HUNTER. FORKED BLADE SPEAR IS VERY IMPORTANT
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
LOKI
I am sure ’tis true in whatever grunting sub-culture you hail from, but here we are looking for tricks. “Top Ten Ways to Stop Iron Man,” that sort of thing.
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KRAVEN
TOP ONE WAY TO STOP IRON MAN IS WITH FORKED BLADE BATTLE SPEAR WITH SPIKED DORSAL RIDGE
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
Villains apparently felt free to discuss all manner of diabolic skullduggery on their supposedly supersecret Baddit forum. That very morning, Ana Sofía had discovered this:
ULTRON 0.2
Looking for vibranium
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
How much?
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
150 metric tons
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
HAHAHAHAHAHA
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
HA HA HA HA
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
Good one
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
Yes. A good one
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
So how much do you really need?
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
150 metric tons
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
…
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
151 would also be okay
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
Friend, that much vibranium doesn’t even exist
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
Friend?
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
Yeah I can’t help you
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
You are my friend
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
KLAW
This is creepy. I’m out.
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
Friend?
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
ULTRON 0.2
Friend? Where did you go? I miss my friend
LIKE • COMMENT • UNFOLLOW
Who was to say if the “Jerry” who had commented on the Friendbook post really was a mall employee. But if he was employed by Chester Yard Mall, and he was operating from the dark net…
Ana Sofía furiously searched for more info on Chester Yard Mall but found little. Bryan Lazardo, the mall’s PR guy, also left a very small electronic fingerprint. All she could dig up on him was a profile on Hooked-In, a website where people randomly shared their work resumes.
Name: Bryan Lazardo
Current job title: VP of Communications at Chester Yard Mall Properties
Previous: Hamilton Yogurts, Dannon Robotics, Americorp
Education: Strucker University
Summary:
Being with Chester Yard Mall feels like being part of something greater than myself. And it is! To be able to contribute to the everlasting growth of mankind by creating MALLS and eliminating HIGH PRICES from the face of the earth is an
Weird, right? Or maybe not. Maybe everyone’s Hooked-In profile made them sound like someone disguising their world-domination plans as professional networking. Maybe she was just paranoid ever since the Micro-Manager incident. Maybe she was spoiled for reality and simply imagining villainy and ne’er-do-wells everywhere.
Good thing she hadn’t told Doreen that she thought Chester Yard Mall was really Hydra after all. That would have been so embarrassing.
Besides, when Ana Sofía had broached the topic, Doreen had laughed.
She’d laughed at her.
Immediately Ana Sofía had felt eight years old again, like the time in third grade she’d been assigned a group project to put on a mini play about nutrition for Parents Night. She’d had a great idea. It was so great, she broke her personal rules about speaking up as little as possible.
“We could all pretend to be Super Heroes! And Punch candy and stuff!”
The other kids had laughed at her idea. Not because it was funny, but because they found her idea laughable. And she’d known it was a good one because, come on, Super Heroes Punching candy! Instead the group ended up being vegetables standing around and listing off their individual vitamin content.40
When someone was mean to Ana Sofía, she wanted to smack them or scream in their faces or slice them to bits with sharp words. But when they laughed at her, she curled up tight inside herself, into a shell she sometimes forgot was there. The hardness of that shell was a comfort, something to lean up against, something solid at her back. But when she curled up inside it, she didn’t ever want to come out again.
She’d been partly curled up inside ever since, more or less. Speaking up and sharing ideas generally terrified her, until Doreen Green bulldozed into her life and gave her someone who genuinely seemed interested in her thoughts, someone safe. But then Doreen had laughed at her idea.
And not only that, but when Ana Sofía hadn’t understood something Doreen said and asked her to repeat it, Doreen had just spoken that horrible phrase, Ana Sofía’s least favorite in the English language: “Never mind.” Likewise, in Spanish, she cringed when someone said to her, “no importa.” She’d learned that hearing people never-minded each other all the time, and it apparently wasn’t a big deal to them. But to Ana Sofía, it was a huge deal. It was turning her off. It was saying, Making an effort to communicate with you isn’t worth my time. And it hurt. Bad.
Doreen was a sunburst of wonderful and kind, and surely she hadn’t meant the laugh and the never-minding. But still…ugh. Having a best friend was very confusing.41
Note: Keep unsubstantiated ideas to self. Do not risk Doreen’s friendship by confessing too many embarrassing thoughts. When you get comfortable, you get careless, and carelessness leads to lost friendships. And don’t tell her when she does something that hurts you. That will just make her even more sure you’re not worth the trouble.
Ana Sofía sat up and turned on her lamp. And there on her side table was the origami unicorn Vin had pressed into superthin leather. Since joining the LARPers, he’d started making things out of leather and gotten pretty good. Had the leather unicorn been a Whatever, here you go thing? Or was it a way to say, Hey, remember all those paper horses I used to fold and leave on your chair in fifth grade? Here’s an even cooler one as a way to say I still think you’re cool?
Friendship wasn’t the only confusing thing. People were. People in general. The entire population of the planet: confusing.
Ana Sofía went downstairs and found her dad at the kitchen table, eating arroz con leche and reading on his phone.
He spoke. She hadn’t put her hearing aids back in, but judging by his body language and knowing him, it was probably something like “Can’t sleep?” so she replied with a vague “Hmm.” She grabbed a box of crackers from a cupboard and sat beside him. This past year, her mom had been working the night shift at the hospital so she could be home for Ana Sofía and Marco after school while their dad was at work. One side effect was that she wasn’t around to stop Dad’s midnight munching. His belly had started to pooch out beneath his shirt.
“If Mom doesn’t switch schedules, you’re going to gain a lot of weight, Dad.”
He smiled and took a big bite of pudding.
“Sin vergüenza,” she said, because it’s what her mom would have called him. Shameless. “Hey, Dad, what’s in the mall’s basement?”
“It doesn’t have a basement,” she thought he said.
“Wait, the mall doesn’t have a basement?” she said, double-checking her lip-reading. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and probably said, “I think I would know.”
Tippy-Toe had told Doreen there was a basement. But how could one of the construction managers not know about it? Was Tippy-Toe mistaken?
Her phone, plugged in on the counter, lit up. She checked it. It was the Squirrel Scouts texting group.
DENNIS
Did you hear about the dog monster?
HEIDI
What are you talking about Dennis
DENNIS
There’s a dog monster in shady oaks for real this is going to be so good for team cat!!!
JACKSON
It’s true everybodys talking about it and we sorta saw it running past the circle q
JANESSA
So creepy I swear I heard it sniffing around my house
DUCHESS
Forsooth! A beast worthy of my steel!
BARON
And of my crossbow! We shall make it regret invading our fair barony
ANTONIO
Dibs on dis
VIN
Ana Sofía can you tell squirrel girl about the dog monster
A dog monster? For real? Maybe they were just as paranoid as she was, imagining villains everywhere, and so obsessed with this stupid mascot competition that they’d seen a large dog and instead thought it was a “dog monster.”
She reread the texts, wincing again when she got to Vin’s. A while back he’d asked her out and then never followed up on it, so why was he always addressing her in group texts like things were totally normal?
She turned off her phone and left it on the counter when she went upstairs, calling over her shoulder, “Go to bed, Papi, or I’ll tell Mom who ate all the arroz con leche.”
In the afternoons, I take naps. Most squirrels do. Why do business in the bright and squinty sun when the light is so much more pleasant at dawn and dusk, when the blue light and the yellow light mix and mellow together and the world is full of cozy shadows? So in the early afternoon, with Doreen still in school, I’d normally be curled up between a pair of friendly branches and snoozing the daylight away.
But a squirrel is not always so lucky. A cloudburst crept up on us like a sneaky weevil, and no fierce sunlight meant no nap. Just a very wet, very early twilight. And for a squirrel, twilight is the time for action.
I scrambled to one of the distant branches of my tree. A leaf heavy with water tipped, and I dodged just in time to avoid a thorough wetting. I scanned the horizon, and I listened.
On one paw, rain cleans everything. And as a squirrel who prefers to smell first and ask questions later, I appreciated the rain-cleaned air. On the other paw, the rain made for a lot of noise. I’m a beast who likes to hear things coming long before they arrive, and the sound of constant rain on branches and leaves and roads and houses is like a young cousin chittering “Hey, hey, hey, hey” in my ear.
I know what you’re thinking. But, Tippy, the human world is noisy. With the cars and machines and constant electric buzzing, how do you cope?
I tune it out. But I can’t tune out nature.
Davey Porkpun, assigned watch for today’s daysleep, scampered up beside me.
“Hey, hey,
He shook his head, blinking. “Whoa! Why you tryna drown a squeak in leafspit?”
“Because I’m getting enough pitter-patter stormwise. Don’t need the fake-rain chitter-patter on top.”
“I don’t—” he started.
I held up a paw, and in between peals of thunder, I heard it again. A noise. Subtle, distant. Animal.
“You catch that sound?” I whispered to Davey.
“Mighty thunder, Tip. Maybe that yellow-furred hammer human is about.”
“No, between the thunder.”
I twitched my tail, and three squirrels on below branches took on my tail-command and shot out in different directions to do some recon.
Davey and I sat still, listening. Again, behind the patter of the rain, it came. A howl of some kind. Loud. Angry.
“Well, that’s a pig-free rattle, at least,” he said. “You know I shuck pigs well—sound, sight, and smell. So straight chitter and trust the squeak. It weren’t no pig.”
“I…I didn’t ask if it was a pig.”
“Now you got no need to ask,” he said, grinning. But the sound, the howl, cut through his chitter. Something was out there. Something big.
“Shiver and twitch,” Davey said. “That sounds like a dog.”
We have had our differences, dogs and squirrels, but recently we’d reached an understanding with the local canines. I’d thought the days of our having to fear those things were over.
“Find Speedo,” I said.
A minute later, Speedo Strutfuzz galloped up on Sir Woof.
“So you caught the chitter?” Speedo asked.
“What chitter?” I said.
“Dog news,” he said. “You didn’t know?”