Spike stickers. Bright green with pathetic hollow smiles. Ugly from every dumb angle.

"So whaddaya think?"

Edgar looks at those wide eyes, then back at the sticker sheet in front of his face.

"It's cool," he says simply. Colette squeals.

"I know right! These are the best!" Without wasting a second, she peels off a sticker and pats it on a scrapbook page. Edgar sighs into his scarf. Yet another piece of his mortal enemy.

Mortal enemy? That's so cringe.

Colette has been obsessed with Spike since basically forever, and he vaguely remembers the times he didn't care. He's been trying to go back lately, albeit with little success.

"Look at that! I can't believe I never stuck on a Spike sticker till now. But the old ones just weren't nice enough. This one's perfect! The right size, the right style, and glossy." She tilts her scrapbook left and right, admiring the sticker before closing it shut. "Soooo cute! I'm so happy..."

"Good for you. I'm glad to know that." The gift shop door opens. A woman enters, idly walking past the Poco plushies. Stupid Spike manufacterers making the stupid perfect Spike stickers, Edgar thinks. He hopes it didn't sound sarcastic when he said he was glad for Colette. And still, it was getting annoying. Not that he was annoyed with her, but every time she brought Spike up again, which was every day since forever, a part of him died inside.

Actually, he hasn't been dying for that long. More like, every day since a few months ago. Looking back, that was the first time he could remember growing annoyed with Spike. The cursed cactus had gone up to his locker and burned everything he loved. And then he went to his house, and burned the entire lot he lived in.

Just kidding. But he almost wishes it happened, so that he'd have a valid reason to demand that Spike be banned from Starr Park.

Wow, overkill.

The woman comes into view, walking towards them. Edgar stops bouncing his leg and stands up with Colette.

"Hello! I'd like to buy this please," The woman smiles, sliding a Spike mug on the counter. He takes a deep breath. Speak of the goddamn devil.

"Oh! What a lovely choice!" Colette says, picking it up and scanning it.

"Thank you!" The woman responds, looking at the price and fishing out a few bills from her wallet. "My daughter is a huge fan of this silly cactus, you see." Probably not as huge of a fan as Colette.

"So am I," Colette giggles, bagging the mug.

"Enjoy your purchase, ma'am," Edgar says.

"I will, thank you!" The woman says again before leaving. Maybe Edgar should buy one of those mugs too, so he could smash it on the wall.

-

"I think he's so stupid, man," Edgar grumbles, stabbing another piece of fried chicken.

"That totally sucks," Emz says across from him. She sips her lemonade. "Do you think you'd still hate him this much if Colette didn't ditch you to chase him, like, three months ago?" He grits his teeth.

"I don't know. It started there, but now I feel like hating him was unavoidable." Edgar scoffs. "Knowing how obsessed she is."

"Yeah, but why didn't you hate him earlier?"

"I guess I just finally got fed up now." Now he feels bad. Sure, Colette rambles endlessly and acts like an all-around weirdo, but he could spend afternoons listening to her, recalling everything she's already told him and everything new, looking at the pages of her ever-evolving scrapbook and hearing that crazy, spine-tingling laugh.

Ew.

"Ermm, okay, let me put it this way," Emz says, "Just you and Colette, hanging out three months ago. Having lunch, just like us right now. And then she sees Spike, and gets, like, all excited, and runs away. And then you don't see her until break's over, and she has the happiest look on her face like, yay Spike! And all that crap. Spike never comes to the gift shop, but I saw him today! Yay, yay! And that made you sad?"

"God, don't say it like that," Edgar grumbles. "I don't get sad."

"Would you get sad if I stood up right now to go look for Poco?"

"No— I mean—" He realizes his mistake too late. "I just said that I don't get sad. Ever." He sharpens the last word as if it makes him more credible. Emz sighs, brows ever so slightly drawn in knowing faux-defeat.

"Whatever you say, sadboy." Edgar stares at his chicken. He didn't get sad. Suddenly sad because his co-worker left him alone in the middle of a casual, strictly friendly lunch to go after some sentient cactus. Edgar clenches his fork. He's not that desperately lonely.

"And how's your Poco madness? You must've had the time of your life last Saturday."

"Are you seriously kidding me? It was incredible! I probably Tweeted, like, a thousand times during his performance." Emz rests her face on her hand propped up on the table. "He's sooo handsome. He's so good. The way he just glows onstage — ah! I felt like fainting."

"Awww." Edgar smiles, leaning forward. "And did you tell him that?" She looks at him scandalized.

"Pff, as if! I've done enough fangirling on social media. And you know, we're not that close." She pauses. "Or maybe I'm just shy. Ugh, maybe I should tell him? I don't know."

Lunch ended with Edgar feeling slightly better. Well enough to sink back into the dark pit of agonizing over Spike and Colette. Now he just sounds extra stupid. Half a year ago, he would've found this obsession comically insane. He lets out a nose exhale. Then again, Colette's just as crazy for that brain-dead cactus. He pushes the gift shop door open.

"Heya!" Colette's scratchy voice greets him.

"Hey," he responds without looking back. He makes his way to his stool and stares at the shop's pink floor tiles. Colette was flipping the pages of her scrapbook again. Emz' poorly-phrased taunt comes back to mind. And you got sad. No, he didn't. He felt awkward. Anyone would be. Would it set off all these endless trains of thought if Emz had done the same to him? Also no. That's 'cause Emz isn't as crazy as Colette. Emz wouldn't be meeting him in the gift shop afterwards. Emz wouldn't rub the glee in his face. Emz wouldn't go on and on about how lovestruck and so amazed she was. Well, she would do that, in her own way. But Colette—

"I thought that little boy who bought two t-shirts earlier was cute. I always find it cute when little kids come here with pocket money," Colette says.

"Lol."

"They're independent! Kind of. And sometimes you even have those, kinda pre-teen ones, scowling like they never wanted to be here. Who wouldn't want to be at Starr Park?"

"Pre-teens, apparently."

"When I was a pre-teen, I would've loved coming to Starr Park!" Colette exclaims. "It's everything! But I guess we can't all be fun — some of us just have to be scowling ol' grouches like you."

"Yeah, well, some of us... don't have fun," Edgar says lamely.

"So saaaad."

A young man stumbles into the gift shop.

"Yo," he says, "'Scuse me — so sorry but do you know where the hell the... Wild West Grill is?"

"Other side of this shop," Edgar says, his walk back from lunch still fresh in his mind. "You'll see it." The man seems to think for a second, then nods.

"A'ight. Thanks dude." The door closes.

"Idiot," Edgar mutters.

"Oh Edgar," Colette chides. "I keep telling you, sooner or later you'll scare our customers away with that attitude." He glares at her.

"Well, I haven't yet." Memories of the most annoying recent customers flash past his mind. "At least I think I haven't. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, you better not. I like people." She does.

"I know. And I like getting paid."

"I like you." Ice-cold lightning through his soul.

"What the hell?" She laughs, and the feeling is replaced with both prickly annoyance and nerves.

"Gosh, I just think you're funny. You're a real funny one Edgar. Why are you so offended? I guess you really don't like working with me." Colette sighs in fake sadness.

"No one says I'm funny," Edgar says, his eyes falling away from her pouting face as he regains the shards of his composure.

"I do."

"You do."

"You should show the customers how funny you are." Edgar scoffs.

"First of all, how. Second of all, no." He lays his head on the counter. He catches a quick glance of her playful face, partly hidden by platinum hair that never dulled. "You really think you'd enjoy this place as a pre-teen?" Of course she would. She was born with the stars in her eyes.

"Yeah, I would. I think my younger self would have her mind blown to know I'm working here." Colette sighs wistfully. Then she giggles. "Gosh, what a dream. Starr Park gift shop staff. But even if I don't spend my whole life here, I just love the spirit of fun that comes with the park. And Spike. And Piper, and all my favorite brawlers. And all the cute kids and funny customers. I think I'll always be a kid at heart forever, you know?" The thought of their Starr Park career not lasting forever isn't something that's brought up often. Edgar doesn't want to think about it.

"Yeah." They're just teenagers. Maybe someday he'll stop riding with Gramps to Starr Park at 7am, stocking the shop, and seeing Colette as the air conditioner starts its daily hum to life. No more snapping at familiar faces and rolling his eyes at Emz as often as he does. Hell, no more sneaky parkour all around the Starr Park scene. "When I leave," Edgar murmurs into his scarf, "And I'll leave before you do, since you're having so much fun anyway, I'll come back and scare all your customers away."

"Don't you dare. I'll ban you."

"Sure. You can try." His heart feels like a wet sock.