Lincoln stepped off the bus with his head held high. He slept a full eight hours, he had a hearty breakfast, the sun was shining on another perfect, though somewhat chilly, day. His best buddy followed him off the bus.

"You seem like you're in a good mood today," Clyde commented.

"Yeah man," he agreed. "I've been batting a thousand. Like, ever since I got here, everything's been going right for me!"

"That's great, man," Clyde humbly smiled.

"And my birthday was amazing," he said, "Best day of my life."

"Happy to hear that."

"I think I'm the-"

He stopped as he spotted a group of his classmates walking to the building. There was one person in that group that held his eye.

"What's going on, buddy?" Clyde intervened.

"Alright," Lincoln threw his arm around his friend's shoulder, pointing out his target, "You see her?"

"Huh?" Clyde spotted her. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna talk to her."

"Really?" Clyde was suspicious. "What are you going to say?"

"Oh no. No, no, no, Clyde, buddy," Lincoln corrected, playing as a wise mentor. "It's not just what you say, it's how you say it. How you present yourself."

"…Okay," Clyde wasn't following. "So… what are you going to do?"

"Just watch," he promised. "It's foolproof."

They went to their class and waited for class to start. Lincoln wrote down a note on a paper, folded it up, and gave Clyde a sly wink. He just stared back at him, unsure. Class started, and Lincoln enacted his master plan.

He waited for the right moment. His target was in the perfect position. Two columns to his right, and the same row. He waited for her to flip her binder open, creating a wall, a target, for Lincoln to hit. He lined up his shot, and flicked his paper football folded offer across the row. It hit her binder, as planned, and dropped unceremoniously onto the desk in front of her.

Christine, naturally, was startled by the sudden appearance of this paper. It flopped itself in front of her and she looked over to its source, spotting the culprit. The white haired boy gave a friendly wave, paired with a wide grin. With a confused look, she took the paper and saw that it had her name on it. She deduced that she was supposed to open it, and she did so while under the radar of Mrs. Johnson at the front of the classroom. Once she had it opened, she read over the words it presented. Her eyes went wide, and she slapped the paper down and hid it under her binder. Her face was beet red.

Lincoln couldn't figure out what happened. The mental script projecting in his head told him that she'd just give him a look with half lidded eyes: the visual affirmation that told him she was interested. But now she's just fidgeting with a flushed face. Her pen was moving on her own paper, and her eyes kept flicking over to him. Was she writing something back to him, or was she just taking notes? What was taking so long? Why'd it look like she was sweating?

He looked over to Clyde and shrugged.

"Can't win them all," he commented.

Clyde nodded, but wore a worried expression. There was little to do but return to his work.

Lincoln did the same, but he was troubled. If she was interested, she'd give him a signal. If she wasn't, she'd crumple the paper up and throw it away or give some sort of answer. She didn't do either of those things.

He couldn't explain why, but he felt a new emotion blossom in his chest; one he wasn't expecting to feel today. Dread.

He watched as Christine stood during the silent study period and walk to the teacher's desk with the unfolded note in her hand.

Uh oh.

He walked through the front door of his house with his head hung low. He could hear his sisters playing upstairs. He abandoned his bag at the door and sighed.

"Hey, Linc," Luan greeted, walking from the kitchen. She immediately spotted his miserable expression. "What's wrong?"

"Got in trouble," he reported. "Mom and Dad are going to be pissed."

"Language, bud."

"Right, right," Lincoln waved it off. For some reason, he was getting more and more flustered and embarrassed by talking to her. "Is Lori home?"

"She's in her room."

He trudged the stairs and made his way to the elder siblings' room. He knocked on the door and, after she expressed consent, opened it.

"Hey Lincoln," Lori smiled after glancing from her phone. She spoke before noticing the look he had. "How was…"

He walked over to her. Leni was blissfully knitting on her bed, while Lori was texting on hers. Lori set her phone aside and sat up as her brother approached her.

"Can I talk to you?"

Lori nodded and cleared her throat.

"Leni? Can you move that downstairs for a little while?"

Oblivious to the tone of the room, Leni happily grabbed her things and moved her stitching operation to the dining room. Lori moved to one end of her bed, crossing her legs in front of her, and patted the space at the opposite end.

"Come. Sit."

Lincoln obeyed like a kicked puppy. He crossed his legs and sat with his hands in front of him like a monk in mourning.

"What happened?"

He took a breath, and answered.

"I tried to… flirt… with a girl in my class."

"Okay," Lori's mouth flicked upwards for a second. Her little brother finding a girlfriend? That's adorable. But something was off. "What happened?"

"I wrote her a note," he told her, "and she showed it to the teacher."

"What'd it say?" Lori asked. "What'd you write?"

Lincoln opened his mouth, but hesitated. He ended up groaning in regret.

"Lincoln," Lori insisted. "What did you write?"

He sighed and told her. The words were etched in his brain, as the subject for Mrs. Johnson pulling him out of the classroom to talk to him. She told him how disappointed she was, and how she'd have to have Principal Huggins make a call to his parents. They were going to kill him when they walked through the door an hour from now.

When he finished repeating what it was he wrote, Lori's back straightened. Her fists balled at her knees, and her face scrunched up in anger. The only thing worth saying about the note, was that it was derogatory, and inappropriate for an eleven year old boy.

"Lincoln…"

Her tone only dumped more heavy shame on top of his head. She sounded so disappointed.

"That's just…" She struggled to find the words.

"I didn't know she'd get offended!" Lincoln burst.

"It's not about getting offended, Lincoln!" Lori argued. "It was wrong!"

Lincoln shrunk further, seeing his offensive fail.

"First off," Lori pointed out, "Do you even know what that means? What you were saying? What you were offering?"

Lincoln opened his mouth to answer, but the words failed to arrive. He held his hand flat out, tilting it from side to side: giving a "so-so" answer.

Lori sighed and shook her head. She rubbed her eyes in irritation and concentration.

"Linc, buddy," Lori began. "The thing about women… If they're that easy, you don't want them."

"They went for stuff like that back at my old school. With the guys there…" Lincoln half-muttered.

"That doesn't excuse it, Lincoln!" Lori corrected. "Girls don't go for cat calling and… gross offers! You are way too young to be saying or thinking about stuff like that! You…"

She paused. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

"…You would have known that... if you had grown up with us," she gently told him, "Mom and Dad, and the rest of us; we would've told you about that sort of stuff. About being a gentleman. It's not about holding doors open and not hitting girls. It's about respect. Respecting everyone. You understand that?"

In truth, Lincoln didn't. He was just ashamed, and confused. He flipped the leg of his pants, letting it smack against his ankle.

"I just…" he begged. "I just thought she was… cute… and pretty."

"That's okay, Lincoln," Lori assured him, "It's okay to give a girl a compliment. It's when she's no longer an equal: that's the problem."

"Yeah, well," Lincoln shook his head, flipping his pants leg again. "That doesn't help me now. She thinks I'm a freak. Mrs. Johnson thinks I'm a freak too."

"Well…" Lori sucked in some air. "there's not much else you can do but… apologize for what you said. And you need to make sure you don't do it again in the future."

"I mean," Lincoln held his hands up, "Mom and Dad are going to kill me when they get home, so…"

Lori gave him a pitiable look.

"Can I tell them I already had 'the talk' with you, so they don't yell at me so much?"

"There are going to be consequences for your actions," she told him. Lincoln looked her in the eye. "Not all of them are going to be this forgiving. You can run from them, postpone them and risk making it worse. Or you can take it in stride and learn from it."

Lincoln rested his chin in his palm. The two siblings sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You kind of sounded like a Jedi," Lincoln then commented. "Or something."

Lori gave him another sorry smile and stroked the side of his face. She was going to respond, but the front door opened downstairs.

"Lincoln Loud!" his father's voice called throughout the house. "You get down here this instant! Lincoln?!"

"Have Lucy bury me with my stuff," Lincoln instructed. Lori nodded.

He got up and went downstairs to face his demise.

The next morning was harrowing. After breakfast, and a solemn bus ride to school, Lincoln made his way inside. He spotted Christine in front of the Principal's office with a tall and broad man that must have been her father. Lincoln sighed. He'd already faced death last night.

Honestly, it might have to be the roughest afternoon in his life. Worse than any hungry night. Worse than the night he spent in the hospital. Worse than the pain from the beatings he got from his foster dad.

While his parents were putting him through the ringer, Luan asked Lori what had happened. Lori told her, and instructed her to keep it on the down-low, but Lynn heard it. Then Luna heard it. And by the time dinner was served, more than half the table was giving Lincoln a look and attitude that he couldn't' stand, nor identify. Leni's though… her expression was pure heartbreak.

That look would haunt him for a long time.

"Christine," he called for her attention.

She spun around and took a step back. Lincoln's demeanor crumbled a little more, but he stepped closer. But only close enough so that she could hear him. It wasn't lost on him, either, that a pair of burning eyes boring into his skull.

"I wanted to apologize," he told her, earnestly. "What I said yesterday… That was inappropriate. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and... I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She didn't answer, just nodded and looked away, embarrassed. Other students walked by, offering stares and glances, and quickly squirreling each other away to gossip.

"Okay…" Lincoln understood. "I'll see you around, I guess."

He walked past her and reunited with Clyde.

"You alright, Lincoln?" his friend wondered.

"Not really," Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck. "This is going to follow me for a while, I think."

"Well, she's switching classes," Clyde offered, "from what I've heard."

Lincoln shook his head. "That's not helping, man."

"Sorry," he cringed. "I mean, lesson learned?"

"Sure," Lincoln sighed. "Girls are weird."

"Yeah..."

"...But that's not an excuse."