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She took it off the hanger and unzipped it.
“I’m not stuffing your arms into it like a baby, Nixon. A little help here, please.”
He took the jacket and pulled it on. Quinn zipped up the front.
“Do you like that one?”
He nodded.
“It’s a nice jacket,” Mrs. McMillan said.
“Is it cool enough? I know you kids need the cool factor in your clothes.” She sounded like her mother: completely clueless and out of touch.
He made a snorting sound. “My clothes are never cool, and usually handed down from the motorcycle guys.”
She swallowed down the anger. “Okay, well this is going to be your jacket, you pick it and look after it. Does it fit okay? Go look in the mirror over there and move your arms around.”
“It has extra-long sleeves, which he looks like he’ll need,” the sales assistant called.
Nixon left her to walk to the mirror. It could be her imagination, but she thought maybe his shoulders were back a bit now, and chin up. Could a jacket make that much difference? Or was it that she was showing interest in him? Whatever it was, it made Quinn feel a bit guilty for being angry with her mom. She’d always had the best clothes and food on her table as a child.
“He likes it,” Mrs. McMillan said.
“I think so too.”
He stood there looking at himself. She watched him turn from left to right. He then pulled up the hood with the fur collar and studied himself.
“Do you have a beanie, Nixon?”
He caught her eye in the mirror and shook his head.
Quinn went to the rack of beanies and found two. She handed him the gray one that was ribbed. She then pulled the navy one down over her ears.
“What do you think?”
He studied her in it, then moved to the beanies. Nixon picked up a deep rose pink one and brought it back to her.
“This is better for you.”
“I’m not that good with pink.”
“It’s not pink, it’s rose.”
“Well, get you,” she said, pulling off the blue one.
She took the rose one and pulled it on. He watched her solemnly. The look in his eyes nearly killed her. A mix of shock, doubt. Hope, she thought. Was that there too, or was it too soon?
What was happening in the police station? Had Nixon’s father changed his mind and come back? Was the sheriff arresting the Trainer brothers for fighting in the street? Could they take him back to Ryker Falls when they left Lyntacky? Quinn hoped so; she didn’t want to leave him here alone.
“So you’re happy with those?”
He nodded.
“And now I’m wearing my first ever girlie beanie.”
“It looks very nice on you, Quinn,” Mrs. McMillan said.
One side of his mouth tipped up slightly.
