"You have to be her rock."
Six-year old Quentin Hedgemouse was still puzzling over his Grandmother's words as he lay on his stomach in his room, putting the finishing touches on the present he was making. He was supposed to be in bed, but he was far too excited to even think about trying to sleep. Phoebe, his best friend in the whole entire world, was finally coming home after spending two weeks in the hospital. They'd been two of the longest and saddest weeks of his life, because he hadn't been allowed to see her at all during that time. Which was weird, because he'd been able to visit his Uncle Reggie when he had broken his leg in three places while snowboarding, and Uncle Reggie had been hurt way worse than Phoebe. She had only suffered a few burns.
Well, Quentin supposed that it didn't matter, because Mom was letting him skip school so that he could spend the whole day with her tomorrow. They were gonna meet-up with Phoebe's family for brunch at 10:00 am, then they were gonna go to the park, and after that they might see a movie if Phoebe was feeling up to it.
"Mom said that we could ride the merry-go-round as many times as we want," Quentin had told Grandma in the den earlier that evening. He spun around in a circle as he plotted out all the fun things he and Phoebe were going to do together. "We're gonna ride all of the horses once!"
Grandma had smiled from her chair, nodding and laughing as he rambled happily about the upcoming day. Then she had reached out, squeezing him on the shoulder, her grip firm and warm. "Phoebe must really be looking forward to it," she said, smiling at him in a way that seemed strangely stern considering the context. "I bet she missed you a lot."
Quentin nodded. "I missed her too, Grandma!"
"She's had a rough time," Grandma replied, her tone indicating that their conversation was about to get serious. "Quentin, honey, it's not going to get easier for her anytime soon." She had leveled a gaze at him, her expression stern but her eyes soft.
"But she's getting out of the hospital, Grandma. Doesn't that means she's better?"
"She's recovered from her injuries, yes," Grandma had explained, getting up from her chair. She knelt down and set both of her hands on Quentin's shoulders, as though doing so would emphasized the importance of what she had to say. "But she's still going to need a lot of help these next few months, and she's going to need you now more than ever…"
That was when Grandma had uttered that confusing phrase. Why did Grandma want Quentin to be a rock? Quentin wondered about it as he colored in Phoebe's hair (he'd drawn a picture of himself and Phoebe as his home-coming present to her- Dad said that Vango himself couldn't have done a better job, which made Quentin feel pretty proud, even though he had no idea who Vango was). Rocks were hard and heavy, and sometimes sharp to the touch- he remembered cutting his foot on one when he was in Kindergarten. The only thing he and Phoebe did with rocks was throw them into the pond by their school, and Quentin certainly didn't want Phoebe throwing him anywhere!
Grandma must have meant something else when she had said 'rock', he concluded. Phoebe would rather have something warm and cuddly, not a hard rock," he thought as he set aside the black crayon. Like Maxie. He looked over at his bed, giving his old, hand-made stuffed rabbit a fond smile. I like hugging him, and I like hugging Phoebe. So I'll be her Maxie and give her a big hug the next time I see her!
That decided, Quentin put all thoughts of rocks aside, and began to consider more important things, such as what to color Phoebe's scrunchies. She likes pink and purple best...