While all this was going on, Lincoln was still in his class, worried about what had happened to his sister. About fifteen minutes later, an officer walked into his classroom. He approached Lincoln with his calloused hands folded in front of him.
"Are you Lincoln Loud?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Lincoln. "Why? Is Lynn okay? Please, tell me she's okay."
The officer sighed and shook his head. "I'm so sorry I have to tell you this, but I'm afraid she isn't, Lincoln. We have just been informed that the identity of the shooter's victim is indeed your sister."
Lincoln immediately burst into tears, as the reality of the situation hit him at full force.
"My sister is g… g... g… gone? Why? How? This can't be real!"
"I'm sorry, Lincoln," said the officer. "By the time the paramedics arrived, she had passed on. I'd like you to know that she's in a better place now. Your parents will be here soon to pick you up."
The officer's response did nothing to console Lincoln. "Wh… Wh… Why would somebody this evil do something like this to her?!" he bawled. "I know we got in a lot of arguments and she bullied me at times, but she's protected me and loved me for so many years! "
Lincoln's mind started running through all the fondest memories he and Lynn shared, the first of which was from the past summer in which he and Lynn were at the gym. As he recalled, the two of them were minding their own business, when a couple of older boys - one tall, one short- approached them.
"Hey Lincoln, I dare ya to lift up this barbell," said the tall boy.
"Sure, I guess I'll do it," Lincoln said with a shrug, trying to play off the dare as no big deal.
But Lincoln's success came at a price; he had ripped his pants in the process, exposing his underwear.
"Hey Linky, still wearing bunny undies?" taunted the tall one.
"Uhh... I don't know?" squeaked Lincoln, turning bright red.
"Well, it sure does look like it, because I'm pretty sure I see bunnies on your boxers!"
"I see London, I see France, I see you have bunnies on your underpants!" sang the boy's shorter friend.
The scornful laughter of the two boys lit a fire in Lynn's heart, and she stomped across the gym to accost them.
"What did you say about my brother?!" she demanded.
"We're laughing at his bunny boxer shorts!" said the short one. "I mean, who still wears bunny underwear?"
"He does," said Lynn. "And there's nothing wrong with that. So you punks better leave him alone!"
"Or what?" said the short one. "Or you'll bully us instead?"
Lynn stepped closer to them, cracking her knuckles. "Maybe I will."
She walked over to the tall one, seized his hands and twisted them around 180 degrees, causing him to screech in pain.
"H-hey! Let me go, you psycho!" he cried.
In response, Lynn just ramped up the pressure. "Say, 'pretty please with strawberry ice cream on top.'"
The boy just grimaced in response, which prompted Lynn to pull even harder, until his bones threatened to crack from the pressure.
"P-pretty please with ice cream on top!" he screamed.
"Strawberry ice cream," corrected Lynn.
"Strawberry! Strawberry ice cream on top! Just please let go of me!"
With a self satisfied smile, Lynn released his hands and gave him a sharp push that sent him toppling down to the floor. The two boys, white with fear, ran away as fast as they could.
"You okay, Linc?" she asked, her expression softening as she turned back towards her brother.
"Yeah, I'm fine," said Lincoln. "And thanks for sticking up for me. That was really cool."
"Ah, no sweat," said Lynn, patting him on the back. "What are big sisters for?"