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Marked as cub for those who filter, but there's no sex in here.", "writing": "As soon as he saw those sneakers, Nate knew that he had to have them. \n\nJules saw the mouse looking. “Check 'em out.” The dog put one foot up on a chair, tail proudly wagging, so Nate could get an eyeful of his new shoes. Which Nate did, too taken with those kicks to feign disinterest.\n\nThe Nikes wrapped Jules's feet in teal and black leather, and the dog had laced them up good and tight with flat black laces. They were pristine—not that Nate had ever seen Jules wear sneakers that weren't. Probably helped that the dog had more sneakers than there were days in the month. “Cool,” Nate whispered.\n\nJules wagged his tail. “They re-released the SB Tiffanies. Waited in line all morning Saturday to get these.”\n\nHugh leaned across the cafeteria table and peered over the edge so he could get a look. “Fancy,” he said, though he sounded as if he thought they were anything but. “Probably cost...what? Gotta be like, enough money to buy three, maybe four games?” Hugh was Nate's best friend, but the skunk just didn't get it. Not like Nate or Jules. \n\nNate rolled his eyes, but Jules looked away. “Something like that,” the dog mumbled. Sneakers might be important, but Hugh had described the cost in terms any kid their age could understand. \n\nThey all left unspoken the truth of the matter, though, which was that Jules banked enough every allowance to afford both the games and the sneakers. Jules set his foot back down, not exactly upset at the reception from Hugh, but clearly subdued. “Anyways, I gotta go.”\n\nNate watched Jules stalk off with his pristine sneakers and scuffed pride. “You didn't have to get on his case about it, you know,” he said.\n\n“I did. Remember on his birthday, when he got three or four new pairs? He walked around for two weeks after, telling everyone how sorry he was for kids who couldn't afford decent shoes.” \n\nA noncommittal shrug. Nate didn't really want to admit that he had felt a little sorry for himself, as well. Ten bucks a week meant months of saving if he wanted special sneakers. “Well, your shoes are all right.”\n\nHugh smiled. “No they're not.” He nudged Nate under the table with the toe of his well-worn Chucks. “They're awful, but I don't care.” They were pretty beat up, though Nate never saw Hugh wearing anything on his feet at home. Shoes weren't important to him.\n\nThe chair scraped as Nate pushed back from the table and tugged his feet out of kicking range. “Careful. I'll get scuff marks,” he whined. Not that it'd save his own shoes much longer. Six months in them, both at school and at home, had left them looking less than their best. He'd been saving up for new ones. \n\nBut now, Nate didn't think he'd be getting another pair of All-Stars like before. He wanted those Tiffs! If he could get them, then he could stand to wear his old shoes for a little longer.\n\n“They're how much? You've got to be kidding!”\n\nHugh double-checked. “Um...two hundred and rising. Seeing a couple already asking for 210 dollars.” The skunk's bare toes curled on the legs of his computer chair as he checked the listings, shoes already discarded over by the foot of his bed. “They sold out pretty much right away everywhere, so all that's left is auctions.”\n\nNate dropped his head down into his paws. “Too much. Waaay too much.” His sneaker fund was at eighty bucks, and that already meant waiting to buy far too many other things. He ended up playing most games long after his buddies had tired of them. He lifted up a foot and stared morosely at the clean, but clearly fading red canvas that kept him shod. He couldn't rightly blame Jules or the others who clearly had the good taste to want those sneakers, so instead he directed his resentment at the shoes he had now.\n\n“Well, maybe you could buy Jules's pair?” Hugh swiveled his chair around. “You guys are the same size.”\n\nEars turned pink as Nate glanced at his friend, and his expression turned sheepish. “I already asked him on the way to the bus.”\n\n“Oh.” Hugh paused, then asked, “Was that why he was laughing when I saw you guys heading out of the building?” \n\n“Ugh! Yes.” Nate flopped back, thin tail agitating down near his ankles.\n\n“And your parents—“\n\n“Aren't going to do a thing. Mom tries to talk me out of spending my own money on sneakers as it is.”\n\n“Right.” Hugh leaned forward. “So, you can try to save up your allowance, which is going to take...” He glanced back at the computer monitor. “Probably another year, at your ten bucks a week. Or give up.”\n\n“I'm not giving up.”\n\n“Didn't think so.” Hugh sighed, as if Nate's ambition for the sneakers were a burden he was taking up himself. “So, my neighbor asked me to help her plant flowers and stuff now that it's spring, and she offered me forty bucks to do it. I'll see if you can help, and I'll split the money with you.”\n\nNate lifted up the slim, pink hand covering his eyes and peeked at Hugh. “Really? You'd do that?”\n\n“Well, Mom and Dad get along with her, so I'm sort of going along to be nice. So, you get a little more money towards your goal, and I spend less time down in the dirt.” Hughes smiled. “Kind of a win-win.”\n\nWith the Tiffs on the line and this the only lead he had for extra spending money, what else could he say? “I'll do it.”\n\nHugh smiled. “Awesome. I'll double-check and make sure that it's okay. If it is, she'll want us there at eight in the morning on Saturday.” The skunk covered his muzzle and laughed, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, at the annoyed groan that coaxed out of Nate.\n\nThe spade, by now, had left little red marks on Nate's palms, ones that were just a few more holes in the dirt shy of turning into full blisters. It turned out that when Mrs. Winkler had said she wanted to plant a few flowers, she had been understating the situation.\n\n“Phew. Tough work, huh?” asked Hugh, as he flopped down on his back on the grass and shielded his eyes. The sun hung directly overhead now.\n\n“Tougher if you don't do anything. Come on, help.” \n\nThe skunk laughed. “With what? We're done.” \n\nNate looked at the pallet of petunias behind him, which had become a pallet for a single petunia. “It's the last one,” he said. “It's the last one! Yes!” Down it went to the ground, and he tamped the loose soil over the roots, then tossed the spade away. At least any blisters or soreness would be going to the shoe fund.\n\nMrs. Winkler came around from the front yard a few minutes later. “All done?” the old cat asked. “It looks so much better out here. Thank you, boys. Give me a minute and I'll have your pay.” Into the house she disappeared, and then out she came again, but not with the agreed twenty dollars each. She gave them thirty each!\n\nDown the street towards Hugh's house, Nate patted his pocket, wallet slightly thicker than when he'd left his house. “Oh, man. She was super happy. That was the best.” Ten extra bucks was a week of allowance less that he'd have to save. \n\n“Worth getting up early for?” asked Hugh. \n\n“Yeah, definitely.” Nate looked down at his sneakers. The white rubber parts on his All-Stars were smeared with dirt from working in Mrs. Winkler's garden (along with his hands and even his tail end). He frowned, but forced himself to relax. At this rate, he wouldn't have to worry about old sneakers for long.\n\nNate sighed, checking the little scrap of paper he kept in the front of his binder, the one that kept track of how much money he had kept in the month since he started saving up. One hundred sixty bucks! One hundred seventy! Two hundred! Last week, Nate had actually hit a little higher than that, but it had been Hugh's birthday, and he wanted to be a cheapskate friend even less than he wanted to have awful sneakers.\n\n“Geez, Nate. Hoping your parents will buy you better shoes if you ruin the old ones?” Jules's tone was light, but the dog's lip curled in an little, reflexive sneer at the sight of Nate's kicks, now clearly grass-stained after a few weeks of mowing lawns for Mrs. Winkler. Repeat business turned out to be great for the fund.\n\n“Nope.” The mouse's tail gave a little, annoyed flicker, but he didn't elaborate, and he did his best not to look longingly down towards the ground. Jules had the Tiffs on again. They were clearly the dog's favorite, as much as the mouse's. Just a little longer.\n\nUnsuccessful in getting a rise out of the mouse, Jules wandered off, glancing back once or twice as if to double-check, maybe see if he'd earned a few more jealous looks. \n\n“You're not going to tell him about the extra jobs you've been doing? You've been quiet around him. It must be bugging you,” said Hugh.\n\nNate shrugged. “Eh.” Jules wouldn't understand until Nate had those same sneakers on; then he'd see what all the work was for. It wasn't like that with Hugh. Jules and Nate were friends just because they were both sneakerheads. Hugh and Nate were friends just because. Nate would lose respect with the dog until he could prove his good taste.\n\nThat night, Nate was in the middle of unsuccessfully trying to buff out some of the grass stains from the toes of his Chucks when his dad popped his head into the room. “Nate, how much did you say those sneakers were?” \n\n“250 dollars last time I checked, I guess.” And going up. They were ten less last week.\n\n“And if I saw a pair for 220? There's an auction about to expire.”\n\nNate's eyes got big. “220 bucks! That's...” He slumped. “Too much. I don't have enough. I'm at 200.”\n\nFor a moment, Dad looked away from the disappointment on his son's face. “Well...” He paused, considered, then nodded. “Tell you what. I'll spot you the twenty. As a loan! You'll owe me the next two weeks' allowance.” Nate's parents were always careful to make him careful about his spending, one way or another.\n\n“You mean it?” Nate held his breath, then let out a shaky little sigh of relief and excitement. He could manage. He had more mowing to do next weekend, and that'd replace the allowance he'd miss out on. “Yes! Yes, Dad!” He hopped up and wrapped his arms around his father's middle. \n\n“You've worked hard for this. I'm happy to help.” He squeezed Nate in his arms, then loosened his grip. “All right, let me go make the bid before it expires! I'll come collecting later.”\n\nThe next morning, Nate told Hugh the news. “I'm getting them! Dad said there was an auction for only 220 bucks last night!” \n\nHugh looked as surprised as the mouse had last night. “Really?” He'd been giving the mouse constant updates on the rising price of the sneakers. He dug his phone out and checked. “...Dude, no there wasn't. Look, just one pair got sold last night.” The skunk thrust his phone towards Nate.\n\nNate looked. The sneakers had sold for 275 dollars. He felt himself start to tear up. “He got outbid.” The mouse checked the auction details, and gasped. “Wait, no, he didn't.” That was his dad's account, and his bid was the only one! Dad had lied. Now he really was tearing up. \n\nHugh smiled as Nate thrust the phone back into his paws and turned away. “Dude, it's okay to cry. Let it out.” \n\nNate sniffled. “Sh-shut up”, he said, half-laughing. \n\nAfter Nate had calmed himself, the skunk asked, “Gonna tell Jules, or make it a surprise?”\n\nNate shrugged. “Didn't see him in homeroom today, so...a surprise, I guess.” \n\n“Cool. I'll leave it to you.” Hugh passed over a tissue, then laughed when Nate swatted his arm. “Come on, we're going to be late!”\n\nNate pedaled the bike as fast as he could. The slip from the post office came Friday evening, but he hadn't been able to get to the post office then. Saturday morning came, but he had had Mrs. Winkler's lawn to mow, first. The post office closed in fifteen minutes!\n\n“Wait up!” shouted Hugh, puffing along behind the mouse. Bushy skunk tails tended to be far too effective at catching the wind. \n\n“I can't! Just catch up! I'll see you there!” Nate pedaled faster, then let out a little shout! The church had a gathering in the parking lot, something going on under a tent, and he very nearly ran over some of the people walking there.\n\nNate banged through the post office door at ten minutes until it closed, and there was nobody else in line. The she-bear working behind the counter smiled at the eager look on the mouse's face, trundled in the back, and came out with a box.\n\nOut the door Nate went, and he took a seat right on the post office steps, just to tear away the packing tape and dig the sneakers' box out of the mess of bubble wrap inside. That box he opened, staring at his heard-earned sneakers. He reached out with a single fingertip, stroking over the leather on the side, along some of the stitching. He examined the laces closely, smile getting bigger and bigger. He did it! They were his.\n\nShould he wear them home? No, he decided. He might scuff them on the bike ride home, he was so excited, and he wanted them pristine if Jules was back in class Monday. He closed the box, balanced it on his handlebars, then began to backtrack. Hugh never did catch up to him.\n\nHe found the skunk back at the church parking lot. Someone had put up a sign in front that said, “Fire Fundraiser (Donations Needed). “Dude, you're not mad I went ahead, are you? I just wanted to make sure I wasn't—“\n\n“Shh. Dude, look.” \n\nNate peeked into the tent. “What am I looking for? It's just a...oh.” Down at the other side of the tent, Nate could see Jules's dad, shaking hands with a few other people. He looked tired and sad, and so did Jules, sitting on a nearby folding chair.\n\nHugh kept his voice low. “I heard someone talking when I went past. That's why Jules hasn't been in school all week.”\n\nNate didn't know what to say. The mouse stayed outside the tent, but peeked in. Jules was dressed in some worn, clearly secondhand clothes. Even the shoes he wore were scuffed and old, the white leather yellowing from age. “Oh, man,” he whispered. “He must've lost all his stuff.” There's no way he'd be able to show Jules his new sneakers now. It'd kill him.\n\nFor just a moment, Jules lifted his eyes and saw his two friends looking his way. The dog's ears tucked back, and he quickly looked away. And so did Nate, pretending not to see his friend's sadness at the situation. It wasn't the sort of thing he could see Jules wanting to talk about.\n\nAs the mouse turned his head, he could see a little hint of cardboard, just inside the tent and past Hugh's arm, when he looked to the side. He leaned past Hugh. It was an old refrigerator box, cut in half, and inside were old clothes, sheets, things that Jules's family would need. He bit his lip, looking down at the ground. “Hugh. Don't say I'm crazy for doing this.”\n\n“Why would I...oh.” Hugh stared, shocked, as Nate took out the shoebox from under his arm.\n\n“We're the same size. And those were his favorites.” Though he tried to sound brave about it, Nate still felt slightly sick when he placed the new shoes in the box.\n\n“Do you want to go tell him?”\n\nNate hesitated, then settled the box carefully on top of the piles of clothing in the donation bin. The shoes still deserved to get treated well. “No. What would I say?” It was the only thing that he knew might help. When Jules had those sweet kicks on again, maybe the dog would want to smile again. “Let's go.”\n\nA short time later, Nate sat on Hugh's couch. The skunk, as usual, had discarded his shoes and socks as soon as he got home, and for a change, the mouse left his own footwear in a pile with the skunk's. Just because he kept his well-worn Chucks, virtually wrecked from the weeks of extra yard work, didn't mean he wanted to look at them right now.\n\nHugh settled down on the other end of the couch and playfully pressed one of his soft, pink soles against Nate's, bringing the mouse out of his thoughts. “So, are you going to start saving up for another pair?”\n\nNate blew out a little sigh of air. “I dunno. Probably not. I just hope Dad and Mom don't freak out when they hear I gave my sneakers away. I'll offer to pay them back the whole amount, I guess. Not just the twenty Dad wanted.”\n\nHugh smiled. “If they get mad, they're heartless. Bet they buy you some new sneakers. Probably not the fancy ones, but...you've got good taste. You'll find something nice.”\n\nThe mouse leaned back. “Yeah, that's okay. I'll live, either way.” They didn't seem too important anymore. He had a standing offer to mow Mrs. Winkler's lawn, which meant he could afford the next pair of sneakers that caught his eye. He'd had both his father and Hugh help him to get his new shoes, which felt nearly as good as getting the Tiffs themselves. And he had the chance to help Jules in turn, right when he needed it most. He relaxed, shivering pleasantly as Hugh's toes wiggled against his bare feet, and rubbed right back with his own digits. There were some things nicer than sneakers, after all.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "As soon as he saw those sneakers, Nate knew that he had to have them.

Jules saw the mouse looking. “Check 'em out.” The dog put one foot up on a chair, tail proudly wagging, so Nate could get an eyeful of his new shoes. Which Nate did, too taken with those kicks to feign disinterest.

The Nikes wrapped Jules's feet in teal and black leather, and the dog had laced them up good and tight with flat black laces. They were pristine—not that Nate had ever seen Jules wear sneakers that weren't. Probably helped that the dog had more sneakers than there were days in the month. “Cool,” Nate whispered.

Jules wagged his tail. “They re-released the SB Tiffanies. Waited in line all morning Saturday to get these.”

Hugh leaned across the cafeteria table and peered over the edge so he could get a look. “Fancy,” he said, though he sounded as if he thought they were anything but. “Probably cost...what? Gotta be like, enough money to buy three, maybe four games?” Hugh was Nate's best friend, but the skunk just didn't get it. Not like Nate or Jules.

Nate rolled his eyes, but Jules looked away. “Something like that,” the dog mumbled. Sneakers might be important, but Hugh had described the cost in terms any kid their age could understand.

They all left unspoken the truth of the matter, though, which was that Jules banked enough every allowance to afford both the games and the sneakers. Jules set his foot back down, not exactly upset at the reception from Hugh, but clearly subdued. “Anyways, I gotta go.”

Nate watched Jules stalk off with his pristine sneakers and scuffed pride. “You didn't have to get on his case about it, you know,” he said.

“I did. Remember on his birthday, when he got three or four new pairs? He walked around for two weeks after, telling everyone how sorry he was for kids who couldn't afford decent shoes.”

A noncommittal shrug. Nate didn't really want to admit that he had felt a little sorry for himself, as well. Ten bucks a week meant months of saving if he wanted special sneakers. “Well, your shoes are all right.”

Hugh smiled. “No they're not.” He nudged Nate under the table with the toe of his well-worn Chucks. “They're awful, but I don't care.” They were pretty beat up, though Nate never saw Hugh wearing anything on his feet at home. Shoes weren't important to him.

The chair scraped as Nate pushed back from the table and tugged his feet out of kicking range. “Careful. I'll get scuff marks,” he whined. Not that it'd save his own shoes much longer. Six months in them, both at school and at home, had left them looking less than their best. He'd been saving up for new ones.

But now, Nate didn't think he'd be getting another pair of All-Stars like before. He wanted those Tiffs! If he could get them, then he could stand to wear his old shoes for a little longer.

“They're how much? You've got to be kidding!”

Hugh double-checked. “Um...two hundred and rising. Seeing a couple already asking for 210 dollars.” The skunk's bare toes curled on the legs of his computer chair as he checked the listings, shoes already discarded over by the foot of his bed. “They sold out pretty much right away everywhere, so all that's left is auctions.”

Nate dropped his head down into his paws. “Too much. Waaay too much.” His sneaker fund was at eighty bucks, and that already meant waiting to buy far too many other things. He ended up playing most games long after his buddies had tired of them. He lifted up a foot and stared morosely at the clean, but clearly fading red canvas that kept him shod. He couldn't rightly blame Jules or the others who clearly had the good taste to want those sneakers, so instead he directed his resentment at the shoes he had now.

“Well, maybe you could buy Jules's pair?” Hugh swiveled his chair around. “You guys are the same size.”

Ears turned pink as Nate glanced at his friend, and his expression turned sheepish. “I already asked him on the way to the bus.”

“Oh.” Hugh paused, then asked, “Was that why he was laughing when I saw you guys heading out of the building?”

“Ugh! Yes.” Nate flopped back, thin tail agitating down near his ankles.

“And your parents—“

“Aren't going to do a thing. Mom tries to talk me out of spending my own money on sneakers as it is.”

“Right.” Hugh leaned forward. “So, you can try to save up your allowance, which is going to take...” He glanced back at the computer monitor. “Probably another year, at your ten bucks a week. Or give up.”

“I'm not giving up.”

“Didn't think so.” Hugh sighed, as if Nate's ambition for the sneakers were a burden he was taking up himself. “So, my neighbor asked me to help her plant flowers and stuff now that it's spring, and she offered me forty bucks to do it. I'll see if you can help, and I'll split the money with you.”

Nate lifted up the slim, pink hand covering his eyes and peeked at Hugh. “Really? You'd do that?”

“Well, Mom and Dad get along with her, so I'm sort of going along to be nice. So, you get a little more money towards your goal, and I spend less time down in the dirt.” Hughes smiled. “Kind of a win-win.”

With the Tiffs on the line and this the only lead he had for extra spending money, what else could he say? “I'll do it.”

Hugh smiled. “Awesome. I'll double-check and make sure that it's okay. If it is, she'll want us there at eight in the morning on Saturday.” The skunk covered his muzzle and laughed, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, at the annoyed groan that coaxed out of Nate.

The spade, by now, had left little red marks on Nate's palms, ones that were just a few more holes in the dirt shy of turning into full blisters. It turned out that when Mrs. Winkler had said she wanted to plant a few flowers, she had been understating the situation.

“Phew. Tough work, huh?” asked Hugh, as he flopped down on his back on the grass and shielded his eyes. The sun hung directly overhead now.

“Tougher if you don't do anything. Come on, help.”

The skunk laughed. “With what? We're done.”

Nate looked at the pallet of petunias behind him, which had become a pallet for a single petunia. “It's the last one,” he said. “It's the last one! Yes!” Down it went to the ground, and he tamped the loose soil over the roots, then tossed the spade away. At least any blisters or soreness would be going to the shoe fund.

Mrs. Winkler came around from the front yard a few minutes later. “All done?” the old cat asked. “It looks so much better out here. Thank you, boys. Give me a minute and I'll have your pay.” Into the house she disappeared, and then out she came again, but not with the agreed twenty dollars each. She gave them thirty each!

Down the street towards Hugh's house, Nate patted his pocket, wallet slightly thicker than when he'd left his house. “Oh, man. She was super happy. That was the best.” Ten extra bucks was a week of allowance less that he'd have to save.

“Worth getting up early for?” asked Hugh.

“Yeah, definitely.” Nate looked down at his sneakers. The white rubber parts on his All-Stars were smeared with dirt from working in Mrs. Winkler's garden (along with his hands and even his tail end). He frowned, but forced himself to relax. At this rate, he wouldn't have to worry about old sneakers for long.

Nate sighed, checking the little scrap of paper he kept in the front of his binder, the one that kept track of how much money he had kept in the month since he started saving up. One hundred sixty bucks! One hundred seventy! Two hundred! Last week, Nate had actually hit a little higher than that, but it had been Hugh's birthday, and he wanted to be a cheapskate friend even less than he wanted to have awful sneakers.

“Geez, Nate. Hoping your parents will buy you better shoes if you ruin the old ones?” Jules's tone was light, but the dog's lip curled in an little, reflexive sneer at the sight of Nate's kicks, now clearly grass-stained after a few weeks of mowing lawns for Mrs. Winkler. Repeat business turned out to be great for the fund.

“Nope.” The mouse's tail gave a little, annoyed flicker, but he didn't elaborate, and he did his best not to look longingly down towards the ground. Jules had the Tiffs on again. They were clearly the dog's favorite, as much as the mouse's. Just a little longer.

Unsuccessful in getting a rise out of the mouse, Jules wandered off, glancing back once or twice as if to double-check, maybe see if he'd earned a few more jealous looks.

“You're not going to tell him about the extra jobs you've been doing? You've been quiet around him. It must be bugging you,” said Hugh.

Nate shrugged. “Eh.” Jules wouldn't understand until Nate had those same sneakers on; then he'd see what all the work was for. It wasn't like that with Hugh. Jules and Nate were friends just because they were both sneakerheads. Hugh and Nate were friends just because. Nate would lose respect with the dog until he could prove his good taste.

That night, Nate was in the middle of unsuccessfully trying to buff out some of the grass stains from the toes of his Chucks when his dad popped his head into the room. “Nate, how much did you say those sneakers were?”

“250 dollars last time I checked, I guess.” And going up. They were ten less last week.

“And if I saw a pair for 220? There's an auction about to expire.”

Nate's eyes got big. “220 bucks! That's...” He slumped. “Too much. I don't have enough. I'm at 200.”

For a moment, Dad looked away from the disappointment on his son's face. “Well...” He paused,  considered, then nodded. “Tell you what. I'll spot you the twenty. As a loan! You'll owe me the next two weeks' allowance.” Nate's parents were always careful to make him careful about his spending, one way or another.

“You mean it?” Nate held his breath, then let out a shaky little sigh of relief and excitement. He could manage. He had more mowing to do next weekend, and that'd replace the allowance he'd miss out on. “Yes! Yes, Dad!” He hopped up and wrapped his arms around his father's middle.

“You've worked hard for this. I'm happy to help.” He squeezed Nate in his arms, then loosened his grip. “All right, let me go make the bid before it expires! I'll come collecting later.”

The next morning, Nate told Hugh the news. “I'm getting them! Dad said there was an auction for only 220 bucks last night!”

Hugh looked as surprised as the mouse had last night. “Really?” He'd been giving the mouse constant updates on the rising price of the sneakers. He dug his phone out and checked. “...Dude, no there wasn't. Look, just one pair got sold last night.” The skunk thrust his phone towards Nate.

Nate looked. The sneakers had sold for 275 dollars. He felt himself start to tear up. “He got outbid.” The mouse checked the auction details, and gasped. “Wait, no, he didn't.” That was his dad's account, and his bid was the only one! Dad had lied. Now he really was tearing up.

Hugh smiled as Nate thrust the phone back into his paws and turned away. “Dude, it's okay to cry. Let it out.”

Nate sniffled. “Sh-shut up”, he said, half-laughing.

After Nate had calmed himself, the skunk asked, “Gonna tell Jules, or make it a surprise?”

Nate shrugged. “Didn't see him in homeroom today, so...a surprise, I guess.”

“Cool. I'll leave it to you.” Hugh passed over a tissue, then laughed when Nate swatted his arm. “Come on, we're going to be late!”

Nate pedaled the bike as fast as he could. The slip from the post office came Friday evening, but he hadn't been able to get to the post office then. Saturday morning came, but he had had Mrs. Winkler's lawn to mow, first. The post office closed in fifteen minutes!

“Wait up!” shouted Hugh, puffing along behind the mouse. Bushy skunk tails tended to be far too effective at catching the wind.

“I can't! Just catch up! I'll see you there!” Nate pedaled faster, then let out a little shout! The church had a gathering in the parking lot, something going on under a tent, and he very nearly ran over some of the people walking there.

Nate banged through the post office door at ten minutes until it closed, and there was nobody else in line. The she-bear working behind the counter smiled at the eager look on the mouse's face, trundled in the back, and came out with a box.

Out the door Nate went, and he took a seat right on the post office steps, just to tear away the packing tape and dig the sneakers' box out of the mess of bubble wrap inside. That box he opened, staring at his heard-earned sneakers. He reached out with a single fingertip, stroking over the leather on the side, along some of the stitching. He examined the laces closely, smile getting bigger and bigger. He did it! They were his.

Should he wear them home? No, he decided. He might scuff them on the bike ride home, he was so excited, and he wanted them pristine if Jules was back in class Monday. He closed the box, balanced it on his handlebars, then began to backtrack. Hugh never did catch up to him.

He found the skunk back at the church parking lot. Someone had put up a sign in front that said, “Fire Fundraiser (Donations Needed). “Dude, you're not mad I went ahead, are you? I just wanted to make sure I wasn't—“

“Shh. Dude, look.”

Nate peeked into the tent. “What am I looking for? It's just a...oh.” Down at the other side of the tent, Nate could see Jules's dad, shaking hands with a few other people. He looked tired and sad, and so did Jules, sitting on a nearby folding chair.

Hugh kept his voice low. “I heard someone talking when I went past. That's why Jules hasn't been in school all week.”

Nate didn't know what to say. The mouse stayed outside the tent, but peeked in. Jules was dressed in some worn, clearly secondhand clothes. Even the shoes he wore were scuffed and old, the white leather yellowing from age. “Oh, man,” he whispered. “He must've lost all his stuff.” There's no way he'd be able to show Jules his new sneakers now. It'd kill him.

For just a moment, Jules lifted his eyes and saw his two friends looking his way. The dog's ears tucked back, and he quickly looked away. And so did Nate, pretending not to see his friend's sadness at the situation. It wasn't the sort of thing he could see Jules wanting to talk about.

As the mouse turned his head, he could see a little hint of cardboard, just inside the tent and past Hugh's arm, when he looked to the side. He leaned past Hugh. It was an old refrigerator box, cut in half, and inside were old clothes, sheets, things that Jules's family would need. He bit his lip, looking down at the ground. “Hugh. Don't say I'm crazy for doing this.”

“Why would I...oh.” Hugh stared, shocked, as Nate took out the shoebox from under his arm.

“We're the same size. And those were his favorites.” Though he tried to sound brave about it, Nate still felt slightly sick when he placed the new shoes in the box.

“Do you want to go tell him?”

Nate hesitated, then settled the box carefully on top of the piles of clothing in the donation bin. The shoes still deserved to get treated well. “No. What would I say?” It was the only thing that he knew might help. When Jules had those sweet kicks on again, maybe the dog would want to smile again. “Let's go.”

A short time later, Nate sat on Hugh's couch. The skunk, as usual, had discarded his shoes and socks as soon as he got home, and for a change, the mouse left his own footwear in a pile with the skunk's. Just because he kept his well-worn Chucks, virtually wrecked from the weeks of extra yard work, didn't mean he wanted to look at them right now.

Hugh settled down on the other end of the couch and playfully pressed one of his soft, pink soles against Nate's, bringing the mouse out of his thoughts. “So, are you going to start saving up for another pair?”

Nate blew out a little sigh of air. “I dunno. Probably not. I just hope Dad and Mom don't freak out when they hear I gave my sneakers away. I'll offer to pay them back the whole amount, I guess. Not just the twenty Dad wanted.”

Hugh smiled. “If they get mad, they're heartless. Bet they buy you some new sneakers. Probably not the fancy ones, but...you've got good taste. You'll find something nice.”

The mouse leaned back. “Yeah, that's okay. I'll live, either way.” They didn't seem too important anymore. He had a standing offer to mow Mrs. Winkler's lawn, which meant he could afford the next pair of sneakers that caught his eye. He'd had both his father and Hugh help him to get his new shoes, which felt nearly as good as getting the Tiffs themselves. And he had the chance to help Jules in turn, right when he needed it most. He relaxed, shivering pleasantly as Hugh's toes wiggled against his bare feet, and rubbed right back with his own digits. There were some things nicer than sneakers, after all.

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