Lincoln Loud would not describe himself as a happy person by nature, but he also wouldn't say he was unhappy either. He was just your average kid and his life was pretty normal. He could point to his sisters walking all over him but even that wasn't a huge deal. Lots of people have older (and younger) siblings who treat them like a doormat, and it doesn't kill them or anything. His sisters didn't do it to be malicious, which helped him to not get worked up about it; they used and manipulated each other too. Sure, he bore the brunt of it, but he wasn't alone in getting kicked around. Lori had been using Leni as a little slave for years, and Lynn went out of her way to boss Lucy around. Lisa treated everyone in the family like they were subhuman and Lily showed no preference for who she occasionally scratched or bit. He didn't feel abused or mistreated or singled out...well, most of the time...but it was frustrating. He sometimes wished he was a girl so he could be like his sisters, but that was more about wanting to fit in and less (okay none) about wanting to be female. He'd be just as happy if all of his sisters were brothers. Then he'd feel a little more...what? Included?
Yeah,that worked, though it maybe wasn't the best word to describe it. By his very biology, he was something of an outsider in his family and because he stood out, he was a lightning rod for attention...usually for the worst reasons. Lynn forced him into playing dumb ball games with her, Lola impressed him to serve as a butler for lavish tea partis attended only by one little girl and her imagination, and Lisa poked, jabbed, and prodded him with serums, experimental vaccines, and other concoctions that weren't FDA tested, much less FDA approved. Leni and Lola both practiced their make up and nail painting skills on him and his parents put him in charge of handling his younger sisters, which was like trying to herd a pack of untamed dogs. He didn't hate his life and didn't mope around over it, but he had the nagging feeling of incompletion. Only if he dwelled on it, which he didn't do. Remember, normal kid. He played video games and did other stuff he liked.
Two or three weeks ago, however, his life was turned upside down when Ronnie Anne Santiago transferred from the Earl Simmons Industrial School, AKA the school where all the lil bad kids went. Legend had it that there was a literal cell-block in the basement housing the worst of the worst, kids who were technically incarcerated but for some reason hadn't been transferred to an actual juvie yet. He made the grave mistake of innocently bumping into her and from that point on, he was her little punching bag. She picked on him, played mean pranks on him, beat him, chased him home, jammed a sandwich down the back of his pants, and put a kick me sign on his back. She laughed at him, shot spitballs at him, and randomly walked up to slap his cowlick. She made every day a living hell...and after a while, Lincoln started to like it.
Up until he met Ronnie Anne, Lincoln had no luck with girls. The last girl who found out he liked her practically filed a restraining order on him, and all the other girls either ignored him outright, or ignored the fact that he was, you know, a boy. He had a crush on this tall blonde girl named Kylie for a little while; he did her homework, carried her books, and listened to all her problems. He brought her gifts and followed her around like a lost little puppy dog. One day they were sitting on a bench in town square and eating ice cream (that he bought, by the way) when she crinkled her brow cutely, sighed, and pouted. "I wish I could meet a guy like you."
Lincoln was so confused by her comment that it took him almost a full minute to respond. "But...I'm a guy like me."
No lie, Kylie looked at him, then burst out laughing. "See what I mean?" she asked and pinched his cheek. "You're so funny."
That hurt Lincoln more than he cared to admit, and for a long time afterward, he wondered what could possibly be so wrong with him that a girl as sweet and kind as Kylie Mitchell would laugh out loud at the thought of dating him. Was it his white hair? Kids used to pick on him mercilessly for it. What about his chipped teeth? His freckles? It couldn't be his hobbies. He liked cool stuff like video games, anime, comic books, fantasy, and superheroes. All of those things were awesome and the people who called them "dorky" and "gay" were just jealous. He wasn't funny, which was a strike against him, but he was really considerate and liked making people happy, so that made up for it, right?
Apparently not. No girl ever expressed interest in him and he just had to accept and come to terms with the fact that there was something hideously wrong with him.
Oh well.
Then Ronnie Anne came along, and though she was really mean, he enjoyed the attention she gave him. Her mattered to her. The fact that she wouldn't let him pass in the hall without saying or doing something proved it. He went from dreading her to kind of liking her. The sly little smile that crept across her lips before she did something awful to him made his stomach flutter and the joy she derived from giving him Indian burns and shoving him into lockers gave him purpose.
Last week, a group of eighth graders tried to rob him for his lunch money. He wasn't one to fight...r to stand up for himself...so he folded and curled into a little ball. At the last possible moment, Ronnie Anne came out of nowhere and saved him. A day before, she helped him after he got hurt (by her) and told him he owed her. "If they carved you up, you wouldn't have been able to return that favor," she said...then shoved her books into his arms. "Carry these."
Lincoln was all too happy to oblige.
They walked six blocks to Ronnie Anne's house, Lincoln holding her books and Ronnie Anne with her hands thrust into the pockets of her purple hoodie. "You were pathetic back there," she said after a moment and turned to him. "Why are you such a bitch?"
Now that was a question he was not prepared for and it took him a moment to come up with an answer. "He had a knife."
"Still," Ronnie Anne said, "you could have put up a better fight. You folded like my laundry. I've seen little girls go harder than you."
Lincoln sighed. "So have I," he admitted.
"I don't know how you can look in the mirror and not be totally sickened by what you see. I mean, it's bad enough that you're albino -"
He cut her off. "I'm not albino."
"- but add to that you're a pussy. Wow. You got issues."
Lincoln hung his head. Her words cut through him like hollow tipped cop killers through a bulletproof vest, but something about them also made him feel warm and fuzzy. Was it strange that each one of her putdowns lifted him higher? Was it weird that her voice was melodic and musical when she was using it to insult him?
He didn't even need to ask himself those questions. Of course it was strange, but as weird as it may have been, it was how he honestly felt, so he went with it. "I know," he confessed, "I should probably stand up for myself more often."
"Don't even worry about it," Ronnie Anne said, "you belong to me now, no one's gonna mess with you. Except for me." With that, she socked him so hard in the arm that he stumbled and dropped her books. She pressed her hands to her stomach as if to keep her guts from bursting out and laughed madly.
Blushing, Lincoln got down on one knee to get her book. He looked up at Ronnie Anne and his heart raced. From down here, she was so high above him, like a queen or even a goddess, and he was so low, her little slave worshipping at her purple socked feet. Back lit against the light of the sun, her face cast in shadows and her eyes dancing with wicked glee, she was breathtaking, and Lincoln tingled all over. Wow, he was so lucky. "Pick my book up," she ordered.
Lincoln did as he was told. He stood up and she slapped it out of his hand. "I said pick it up," she spat. "Are you stupid?"
"Sorry," he said and picked it up again.
Five minutes later they reached her house, a tiny crackerbox with flecking blue paint and a dusty front yard so small it was biologically incapable of mating with other yards. A busted up hunk of junk Chevy sat in the driveway and a black tom with one ear and no tail watched warily from the porch, its body tensing. Was...was Ronnie Anne the reason that cat was missing body parts?
He asked, and flashing, she punched him in the chest. "Why would you even think something like that? I rescued that cat. I love him and I would never hurt him." Her jaw clenched and she hit him in the arm for good measure.
"Sorry!" Lincoln cried. "I just thought maybe you -"
The little Latina glared at him. "Thought I want?"
Well, he was going to say torurre your cat but that might make her really mad.
Wait a minute.
Lincoln liked it when she was mad.
"I thought your torture him."
He braced for impact, but instead of plowing him like a freaking snowbank, she just growled. "I don't do that."
"Okay," Lincoln said and held his hands up defensively. "My mistake."
Ronnie Anne punched him in the arm and he screamed in agony. "Stop cringing," she demanded.
"Sorry," he said and rubbed his arm. "It's a habit."
"A habit you need to break. I might protect you from bullies but that doesn't mean you can be a bigger girl than I am."
Lincoln's heart soared.
She was his protector.
If his life were a popular Nicktoon beloved by small children and their creepy older brothers, hearts might have danced around his head like bubbles. Instead, Ronnie Anne snatched her book away and went up the steps. "Be here at seven sharp tomorrow," she decreed.
Feeling bold, and hoping to provoke a reaction from her, he said, "I have to warn you, I like to be fashionably late."
The next morning at 7:01, Lincoln knocked on Ronnie Anne's door. She appeared in her signature hoodie, shorts, and knee high socks. She held out her backpack and Lincoln took it, slinging it over his shoulder. On the walk to school, Lincoln opened his mouth, but Ronnie Anne cut him off. "Don't talk to me, I'm barely awake. I don't have the patience for your high pitched little girl voice."
Lincoln sagged a little. He watched her from the corner of his eye, hoping she would take mercy on him and let him speak, but she made a show of ignoring him. When they got to school, he held her hand out and he passed her the backpack. He started to ask if she needed anything else from him but she walked away, leaving him standing there. Sighing, he went to his locker, put in the combo, and took out his book. Because he had to be at Ronnie Anne's so early, he didn't get a chance to eat breakfast and now it was too late to get something from the cafeteria, so he went straight to class, getting there a few minutes before the bell rang.
All that day he thought about Ronnie Anne, and at lunch, he brought her a tray and sat with her while she slurped it up. She chewed with her mouth open and made chewing noises like a pig.
I'm so lucky, he thought.
And his luck continued. A week later, Lincoln got home from school with a big smile on his lips and a bright red handprint on his face from one of Ronnie Anne's many love slaps. He was practically floating on a tide of little hearts and his head was stuck so deep in the clouds that you'd need a crowbar to pry him out.
Or a stern, sisterly voice.
"LINCOLN."
Lincoln shook his head to dispel the mist in his head. Lori stood over him with her arms crossed and her brows angled down in an angry V. Uh-oh. She looked mad. "What is that on your face?" she asked. "Did someone hit you?"
Those were the magic words; in the twinkling of an eye, his sisters all surrounded him, Lisa checking his pulse, Lola patting the back of his hand with a concerned expression, Lana punching the air ("let me at 'em, let me at 'em"), and Lynn cracking her knuckles., "Someone's bout to catch an ass whippin'."
Oh no.
"It's nothing," Lincoln said and wracked his brain for a convincing lie. Unfortunately, he didn't have one to tell. "I was, uh…"
His sisters pressed in closer, expectation on their faces. He jammed his finger into the collar of his shirt and pulled it away from his neck, which was beginning to sweat. "Slapboxing."
Lynn's brows shot up and Leni tapped her chin in confusion. "Slapboxing?" Lynn asked. "You don't slapbox."
"I tried," Lincoln said and hung his head so they wouldn't see the dishonesty in his eyes. "Obviously I didn't do too well."
Lynn blew a raspberry. "You thought you would?"
"Well…"
"Look at your arms." She grabbed one of his arms and let it drop; it rippled like a deflated balloon. "You couldn't even beat Lily."
Lily agreed.
"I know, it was dumb," Lincoln said, hoping that by agreeing with them, he'd get them off his back.
Lori sized him up and he flashed a nervous smile. "Anyway," she said, moving on, "why are you grinning like a doofus. Is it a girl?"
"A GIRL?" his sisters cried in unison.
Oh no, here we go.
If there was one thing Lincoln's sisters loved more than using him as a white-haired welcome mat, it was meddling in his life, especially his love life, as withered and nonexistent as it was. Last year, Lisa set him up on a blind date with a friend of hers. Imagine how painfully awkward it was when he showed up to Chuck E Cheese and met his date; she was adorable and all, but she was four. Another time, Lori tried to hook him up with Carol Pingrey's little sister. She was eleven, his age, and gorgeous, but was so shy and nervous that she bit her nails the whole time and cringed every time he moved, like she was afraid he was going to try something.
He did not want his sisters getting involved with him and Ronnie Anne, but lying was out of the question. It was either be honest or fib and have them follow him around and uncover the truth on their own.
"Well, kind of," he said and rubbed the back of his neck. "We're not really...together, you know, we're just friends."
They all cheered and clapped and danced around him like a bunch of lunatics and Lincoln blushed. He hated it when they made such a big deal about stuff. Lori grabbed him by the hand, led him to the couch, and sat down. "What's her name?" she asked.
"Ronnie Anne," he said, "Ronnie Anne Santiago."
Lori's jaw dropped and Lincoln arched his brow. "Do you know her?"
"That's Bobby's sister."
"Your boyfriend Bobby?" Lincoln asked. That was the only Bobby he knew, though he'd never met him and didn't think he'd ever heard his last name.
"Wow, this is so crazy," Lori said. "We're both going to marry into the same family. It's like literally a romance movie."
Marry? MARRY? "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lincoln said and raised his hands, "I didn't say anything about getting married. I'm just a kid."
Lori waved him off. "Oh, it'll happen one day. Anyway, Bobby's coming over for dinner this Saturday. I'll have him bring Ronnie Anne so we can all meet her."
The last thing Lincoln wanted was for Ronnie Anne to meet his neurotic sisters; they'd probably suffocate her to death and bury her under weird and uncomfortable questions. The thought of having extra time with his Latin queen, however, made the proposition far more attractive.
Almost as attractive as Ronnie Anne herself.
"Okay," he piped.
"It's a date," Lori said.
For the rest of the day, Lincoln crackled with excitement. He could barely sit still at dinner and later, he couldn't focus on the latest issue of Ace Savvy even though he really wanted to read it. His mind kept drifting to Ronnie Anne, and his chest would pound. At eight, his phone chimed with a text from her and he reached for it so fast that he tumbled off the bed and whacked his head on the nightstand like Louis Creed waking up to find his dead had come back. He rubbed his head, staggered woozily to his feet, and held the nightstand for support.
Ow.
He sat, opened the phone, and read the text.
Bring me five dollars tomorrow or else.
He sighed dreamily and replied. Ok.
That night, he curled up in his jammies and hugged his stuffed rabbit Bun-Bun to his chest. Harsh orange light from a streetlamp outside his window painted the wall with bars of rusty color and the hiss of heat rushing from the vent lulled him to the border of sleep, but visions of Ronnie Anne kept him from crossing over. He was thinking of asking her if she wanted to hang out after school but couldn't quite work up the nerve. This dinner date would be the perfect starting point. From here, they could really take things to the next level.
A smile touched Lincoln's lips and he fell into a deep and serene sleep.
The next morning, he showed up at Ronnie Anne's house at seven on the nose and rang the bell. She came out, shoved her backpack at him, and looked at him funny for a minute. "Well?" she asked.
"Well what, Ronnie Anne?" Lincoln asked innocently. Did she want him to give her a piggyback ride?
"Where's my five bucks?"
Lincoln shriveled up. "Uh...I forgot it."
Ronnie Anne's fist arced through the air and collided with his arm. Pain swelled in his head and alarm bells rang in his ears. He let out a big scream and Ronnie Anne shoved him down, knocking the air from his lungs. "So help me God, if you scream like a bitch one more time…"
"I'm sorry!"
She glared down at him, then walked away, making him run to keep up. "You had one job, Lincoln," she vented. "Bring me five dollars, hand it to me, and carry my stuff. One simple job and you still managed to screw it up. God, what a lame-o."
"I'm really sorry," he said, "it just slipped my mind."
She came to a stop and turned to him. "I have an idea."
"What?"
"Go back and get it."
Lincoln blinked. "W-What?"
"Go back to your house and get my money while I go to school."
"But that'll make me late."
Ronnie Anne snorted. "I don't care."
Before he could protest further, she spun around, her sweet smelling ponytail slapping him in the face, and strode off. Lincoln stood there for a few moments, not sure what to do, then ran all the way to his house. He couldn't let Ronnie Anne down.
Because everyone was gone for the day, the doors were locked, so he had to jimmy open the basement window and slide in, getting full of dirt and grass clippings in the process. He landed on a box, fell forward, and face planted on the soft dirt floor. He got up, went upstairs, and fetched five bucks from his sock drawer. He ran all the way to school and got there just after the first bell of the day. He was winded, sweaty, coated in dirt and dust, and could barely walk. When the teacher saw him, she gaped. "Oh, my God, Lincoln, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he panted.
A few of the other kids snickered behind their hands and Lincoln blushed as he took his seat next to Clyde. Clyde leaned in and lowered his voice to a low whisper. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Lincoln said, "I just had to go home real quick."
"Why?"
"To get Ronnie Anne's five dollars."
Clyde's brow furrowed. "Why did you have Ronnie Anne's five dollars."
"Well, it wasn't hers. She told me to give it to her and -"
The teacher cleared her throat and Lincoln shut up.
At lunch, Lincoln grabbed two trays, one for him and one for Ronnie Anne, and brought them to the table. He sat across from her as she scarfed down her food and picked at his own meal. "So I'm coming to your house this Saturday," she said around a mouthful of food. "Something about meeting your sisters. I hope your mom's a good cook."
"Oh, she doesn't cook, my dad does."
Ronnie Anne swallowed. "So he's a henpecked wimp just like you."
Lincoln didn't know what to say to that. Dad wasn't a henpecked wimp. He just enjoyed doing housework and doing what Mom said. Kind of like how Lincoln enjoyed doing what Ronnie Anne told him to. "I guess," he said, since he didn't want to contradict and possibly offend her.
"Sad," she said. She opened her milk carton and took a deep drink. "Anyway, it'll be kind of cool finally meeting your sister. Bobby keeps talking about her and using baby language. It's really gross."
"Right?" Lincoln asked. Fisting his hands to the side of his face, he batted his eyelashes. "Oh, Bobby boo boo bear."
Ronnie Anne giggled. "Lori warry, I love you sooo much."
"It makes me gag," Lincoln said.
"Like...don't they realize how dumb they sound?"
"Dumb people are always the last to know they're dumb."
She raised her milk. "I'll drink to that." She took a sip. "And speaking of dumb, your little butt buddy keeps looking over here."
"Clyde?"
"Yeah." She leaned over to see around him. "Hey, you! Clyde! Come here."
Clyde looked stricken but got up and came over. Poppa Wheelie got up to provide back up but Ronnie Anne waved him off. "Not you, fat boy." She turned to Clyde as he walked up and closely sized him up. "What's your problem?" she asked. "Why do you keep looking over here and giving me the evil eye? You got something you want to say, faggot?"
Clyde stiffened and his jaw clenched. Clyde hated that word because his dads were gay. He puffed out his chest and said, "Yeah, I do. I don't like how you treat my friend."
"Your friend?" Ronnie Anne asked. "You mean our friend."
Lincoln smiled giddily.
"Is he your friend?" Clyde asked. "You hit him, call him names, and hold him up for money. You don't treat him like a friend. You treat him like garbage."
Lincoln started to defend Ronnie Anne but she held up her hand. "Shut up, lame-o. Don't worry about how I treat Lincoln. If he doesn't like something I say or do, he can tell me himself. That's what friends do."
"Friends don't bully each other,"Clyde pointed out.
"They also don't get jealous and buthurt when they hang out with other people."
Clyde's jaw clenched. "I'm not butthurt -"
"Yes you are. Lincoln would rather hang out with me and that eats you up. No wonder he'd rather hang with me, look at you. You're a scrawny chicken neck little bitch."
The air between them was choked with tension like the atmosphere before an electrical storm. Lincoln hunched his shoulders to make a smaller target of himself when the storm eventually broke. "I'm butthurt that you treat my friend like human trash," Clyde said.
"Newsflash, not everyone is like you. I pick on my friends. If I don't like someone, I ignore them. Just like I ignore you. Now go back to where you came from, four eyes, or I'll kick the shit out of you."
Instead, Clyde looked at Lincoln. "Are you seriously going to let her do all this to you? She's not your friend, Lincoln. She's a bully."
"It's just her way," Lincoln said meekly.
"Killing people was Ted Bundy's way," Clyde pointed out, "that didn't make it right."
Before Lincoln could reply, Ronnie Anne butted in. "Piss off already. He can hang out with you later."
Clyde looked at Lincoln, and Lincoln was unable to meet his eyes. "I'll see you later," he mumbled.
"Fine," Clyde said tightly, "be her punching bag."
Wheeling around, Clyde stalked back to the table and sat down. Lincoln sighed and turned back to Ronnie Anne. "What a loser," she snorted, "you really hang out with that guy?"
"He's my best friend," Lincoln said, then hastened to add, "aside from you, of course."
"There's no accounting for taste, I guess," she said with a sad shake of the head.
In the next class they shared together, Lincoln tried to talk to Clyde. "I don't like how she does you and it's kind of hard to watch. Do you like being kicked around like a dog? Is that fun for you?"
YES.
"No," Lincoln said out loud, "but...that's just how she is."
"That's not a friendship," Clyde said, "it's Stockholm Syndrome."
Lincoln couldn't stomach such negative comments about Ronnie Anne, so he stopped talking to Clyde for the day. Maybe once he slept on it, Clyde would realize that he was overreacting.
At least Lincoln hoped so. Clyde was very important to him; they had been inseparable for years and were as close as two boys can be without being brothers. He couldn't just give Clyde up and he couldn't bear the thought of Clyde giving him up, but he really liked Ronnie Anne. She made him feel funny and good and sometimes just looking at her sent his heart racing a crazy beat. This was a classic case of wanting to have your cake and eat it too, he guessed. How come his two best friends couldn't get along with one another? God, so typical. If he didn't have rotten luck he'd have no luck at all.
After the final bell, Lincoln carried Ronnie Anne's books home while she scrolled through her phone and complained about her grandmother stalking her on Facebook. "She's always watching me," she fumed, "and if I say anything out of line, she comes out and scolds me over it. She drives me nuts. Is your family this annoying, lame-o?"
"Ten times more annoying," he said. "They always meddle in my business and make things worse. It's a nightmare."
Ronnie Anne shook her head. "Families can be so lame sometimes."
They parted ways and Lincoln walked home. Tomorrow evening, Bobby and Ronnie Anne were coming over for dinner and Lincoln would get to show off what a great future girlfriend he had. The more he thought about it, the prouder he became. She was cute, smart, strong, and independent, really the perfect woman.
He couldn't wait.
His sisters would be so proud of him.
Early Saturday afternoon, Lincoln walked over to Clyde's house and knocked on the door. It was unseasonably warm for November and sweat trickled down the back of his neck, staining his shirt. Harold McBride opened the door and brightened. "Oh, hello, Lincoln. Clyde's at the park."
"Thanks."
Lincoln walked to the park, finding Clyde sitting on a bench with a loaf of bread in his hands. Ducks pecked at bits of bread at his feet and others watched from afar, trying to decide if it was safe to come over or not. Lincoln sat down and drew a deep breath. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," Clyde replied and tossed a handful of bread to his goose friends.
"I'm sorry about the other day."
Clyde furrowed his brow. "What about the other day?"
"Ronnie Anne."
Understanding dawned in Clyde's eyes and gave a slow nod. "I'm not worried about it, but come on, man, are you really okay with how she treats you?"
"Yes," Lincoln said, "I am."
Clyde looked at him like he had grown an extra nose. "Why?"
That was a good question. Why did he like the way Ronnie Anne treated him? He didn't know and he honestly didn't care. Introspection is overrated. He liked it and that was all that really mattered.
"I like her a lot, Clyde," he said, "I know it's kind of strange but...she makes me happy."
"Drugs make an addict happy," Clyde said, "that doesn't mean -"
Lincoln cut him off. "It doesn't mean you have a right to tell me what to do with my life."
For a long time, Clyde looked at him, then shook his head. "Alright," he said. "If that's what you want, find. I don't like seeing it, though, and I never will." Dumping the bread out on the ground, Clyde got up and walked away. Lincoln called out after him, but he didn't stop, didn't even slow.
When he was gone, Lincoln dejectedly hung his head. He didn't want to lose Clyde, but he didn't want to lose Ronnie Anne either. What should he do?
Heaving a deep breath, he got up and went home; he'd think about it later, right now he had to get ready for his date with Ronnie Anne.
At home, he hopped in the shower and scrubbed himself until his flesh was raw and red. He washed and conditioned his hair, then combed it neatly in the mirror; a single strand stuck up and he licked his thumb and pressed it down. Next, he put on deodorant and cologne, brushed his teeth, and gargled with mouthwash. He smiled at his reflection, and was so pleased with the results that he shot it a set of finger guns. Looking good, Linc. He flexed his arms and frowned. Who called him 'noodle arms'? Lynn? Ronnie Anne? Whoever it was, they were right. He was cut like a spaghetti dinner and about as threatening as Mister Rogers. From what he heard, Mister Rogers was a sniper in the Marines, so technically, he was even less intimidating than Mister Rogers.
Oh well.
He was a lover, not a fighter anyway.
Wrapping the towel around his body, covering not only his privates but also his chest just like his sisters did, Lincoln went back to his room. He stood in front of his dresser and debated with himself on what to wear. He didn't want to go too formal, but he also didn't want to dress down either. This was his first date with Ronnie Anne, whether she exactly knew it or not, and he wanted to look nice for it.
Finally, he settled for a pair of khakis and an orange polo shirt that he tucked in for maximum sophistication. He put on a belt and socks, then stepped into a brown pair of brown penny loafers that he had last worn to his cousin Lucenda's wedding six months ago. His toes pinched and his feet ached, but they were the nicest shoes he owned so he sucked it up.
Downstairs, Dad sat in his armchair and read the day's newspaper while Lola and Lana bickered on the couch over what to watch: Spongebob or Paw Patrol. "Paw Patrol is for babies," Lola said and crossed her arms.
"No it's not," Lana argued, "Paw Patrol is awesome."
Lola laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, if you're four."
"Not even when you're four," Lisa called from the dining room.
Assuming a smug, punchable smile, Lola said, "See? Not even four year olds like it. We're watching Spongebob and that's final."
In his eleven and one quarter years of life, Lincoln had learned to recognize fighting words when he heard them, and those were fighting words. He hurried into the dining room before he could somehow be dragged into it and let out a sigh of relief. Whew.
Lisa sat at the table working on what looked like a giant paper mache volcano. "What's that?" he asked.
"A giant paper mache volcano," she said.
Lincoln narrowed his eyes.. "Are you reading my mind?"
She turned in her chair and raised a quizzical brow. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you literally created a mind reading device one time."
Lisa nodded in acquiescence. "Fair. No, I am not reading your mind. I take it you knew exactly what this was before asking me, and that I described it the same way you did, to yourself, is a simple coincidence."
Hmmm...well okay then. Lisa wasn't one to be outright dishonest when asked a direct question. If she said she wasn't reading his mind, she was telling the truth.
"Now if you'll excuse me…"
She turned back to the volcano, picked up a beaker filled with bubbling white liquid, and poured it in. Without warning, a jet of red liquid shot out, arched into the air, passing over Lisa, and splashd the front of Lincoln's shirt. He screamed and jumped back, bumping into the wall. "Darn it," Lisa said.
The liquid, lava, whatever you want to call it, coated the front of Lincoln's shirt and the crotch of his pants. It looked like an irate chef had thrown spaghetti sauce all over him. His heart sank into his stomach and panic gripped his chest. He had to go cha -
Ding-dong.
Doorbell.
Oh no.
"Bobby's here!" Lori from upstairs. She ran down the steps and went to the door. "Lincoln, come greet Ronnie Anne."
"But -"
"But nothing," she snapped, "get over here."
Darn it.
Taking a deep breath, Lincoln hung his head and trudged into the living room. Lori giddily unlocked the door and opened it. Bobby and Ronnie Anne stood on the porch, Bobby in a green checkered shirt and Ronnie Anne in her hoodie. "Boo boo bear!" Lori squealed and threw her arms around his neck, one leg kicking back.
Lincoln opened his mouth to greet Ronnie Anne, but she shoved him out of the way, her stomach audibly growling. "Where's the food?" She went into the dining room and Lincoln followed. In the short time he'd been in the living room, Lisa had disappeared, leaving her volcano unattended. Ronnie Anne saw it and tensed. "Food," she said. She went over and shoved her hand through the hole.
"That's -"
"Shut up, lame-o, I'm starving."
She grabbed a handful of lava and brought it to her mouth just as Lisa came out of the kitchen with a juice box. The little scientist's face went white as milk and she tugged madly at her own hair. "Dear God, don't eat that, it's toxic!"
Ronnie Anne didn't listen.
Crying out, Lisa sprang at her and knocked the goop out of her hand. It hit Lincoln in the chest and he just sighed. "That's not food, you dolt," Lisa said. "Haven't you got any brains?"
Ronnie Anne's face turned red with anger and she clenched her jaw. She rolled up her sleeves like she was going to fight, but Bobby came in and her demeanor instantly changed. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Ronnie Anne said.
Lisa snatched the volcano away, glared at Ronnie Anne, and went upstairs, grumbling under her breath. Ronnie Anne turned to Lincoln, saw his shirt, and blinked. "What happened to you? That stuff is toxic, dummy." She slapped Lincoln on the side of the head.
Bobby glared at her.
"It's okay," Lincoln said and flashed a nervous smile. "It's how we do." He made a loose fist and barely touched Ronnie Anne's arm, loath to hurt her. "Oh, you," he said.
Grinning, Ronnie Anne grabbed him in a headlock and gave him a noogie, her knuckles grinding into his scalp and bringing tears to his eyes.
She let him go just as Lori came in and slipped her arm around Bobby's waist. "I have to introduce you guys to my sisters." She called out, and in moments, all of Lincoln's sisters were clustered around in a big group. "Alright, everyone, this is Bobby. And this is his sister Ronnie Anne. She and Lincoln are very close."
Ronnie Anne's throat bobbed nervously and unless Lincoln was mistaken, she blushed.
The sisters mobbed her, save for Lisa, who stood back and looked put upon. They dragged her into the living room, and Lincoln stood there for a moment feeling lost. Finally, he went upstairs and changed into a new shirt. When he came back downstairs, Ronnie Anne and his sisters were siting on the couch, Lynn leaning in close as if to impart some great secret. "...bite your lip and play footsie with him. Boys love that."
"What are you talking about?" Lincoln blurted.
Lynn and the others looked at him and then away, giggling. "Don't worry about it, lame-o," Ronnie Anne said. "You see if my food's ready."
"Why don't you go see if our food is ready yourself?" Lisa asked.
"Why don't you go cram a beaker, science geek."
Lynn laughed and held up her hand. "Sick burn. High five."
They high-fived and Lisa rolled her eyes.
"What's her deal?" Ronnie Anne asked and nodded at Lucy, who crouched in the darkened fireplace.
"Oh, that's Count Dracula," Lynn said, "she pretends to be a goth."
"Don't you mean Count Dorkula?"
She and Lynn laughed madly. Lucy hissed and withdrew into the darkness like a bat disturbed from its slumber.
Lincoln came into the living room and sat down on the couch. Ronnie Anne slapped his leg as hard as she could and dug her fingernails into the fabric of his pants like a cat. "What's up, lame-o? You got a nice house, and your sister is off the chain."
"Thanks," Lincoln said through his teeth, trying really hard not to cry out from the pain.
"Where's your room? Lynn says you live in a closet, which I can totally believe."
She let him go and he led her up the stairs to his bedroom. She poked her head in, looked around, and snorted. "And I thought my room was small." She nodded at the bed. "What's that?"
Lincoln followed her line of sight to the bed. "That's Bun-Bun," Lincoln said. "I've had him since I was a baby."
"You sleep with a stuffed animal?" Ronnie Ann asked. "What are you, six? And a girl?"
A loud gasp sounded from above them and they both jerked in surprise. A white face pressed to the vent grate overhead, and Lincoln almost screamed before realizing it was just Lucy. "That rabbit means a lot to him," she said.
"What are you even doing up there?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Keeping my eye on you," Lucy answered. "The spirits tell me you're bad news."
Ronnie Anne pursed her lips. "Okay then."
While waiting for dinner to be ready, Lincoln gave Ronnie Anne a tour of the house, starting in the basement and then ending back upstairs. They passed Lucy's open door and stopped. She was hunched on her bed and staring at a makeshift guillotine, where a doll with its hands tied behind its back awaited its destiny. Lucy pulled a string and the blade dropped with a hollow thunk! Ronnie Anne grabbed Lincoln for protection and hid behind his back, peeking around his head. Lincoln melted a little at her momentary display of vulnerability and at her seeking protection from him. "Let that be a warning," Lucy said.
"Lucy...shut up," Lincoln sighed.
Lucy hung her head.
Mom called up the stairs that dinner was ready, and Ronnie Anne's face lit up. She stiff-armed Lincoln out of the way and ran down the steps two at a time, jumping off the fifth from the bottom and landing with a thump.
At the table, she sat across from Lincoln and rubbed her hands crisply together. Bobby sat beside her and did his best to not gaze longingly at the roast while Dad cut it. He handed everyone a plate and they added their own sides from bowls in the center of the table. Ronnie Anne got everything: A heap of mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, and two slices of bread. She hunched over her plate as if to protect her food from being stolen, jammed a piece of bread into her mouth, and took a drink of tea to wash it down. She stabbed a piece of meat with the tines of her fork and shoved it into her mouth, not bothering to chew, putting Lincoln in mind of a ravenous wolf. She made snorting pig noises and ate so fast that soggy bits of food fell out of her mouth and landed on her plate, only to be eaten again. Everyone looked at her with varying degrees of shock and disgust, except for Lana, who watched her open admiration. "I've never seen such a sloppy eater before," she said, more than a trace of wonder in her voice.
Looking embarrassed, Bobby nudged Ronnie Anne with his elbow and smiled uncomfortably at the Louds. "It's...i-it's not going anywhere. You can chill out now."
"So Bobby," Mom said, "what do you do for work?"
"I deliver pizzas for Papi's Pizza," Bobby said. "And sometimes I volunteer at the library on story night."
"He reads to a bunch of fat head kids," Ronnie Anne around a mouthful of food. "It's pretty lame."
"Reading sucks," Lynn agreed.
"I like to read," Lucy said.
Lisa said, "As do I."
Ronnie Anne rolled her eyes. "Shocker. The two dweebtards of the family."
Bobby nudged her again and shot her the most withering gaze Lincoln had ever seen. "Knock it off," he said through his teeth. "You're being rude."
For the first time ever, probably, Ronnie Anne looked chastized. "Sorry."
Two minutes later, she let out a belch.
"Nice one," Lana said and forced a burp of her own.
"Oh, that was nothing," Ronnie Anne said. She tucked her chin to her chest, strained, and let out an even bigger belch.
"Oh, please, I can do better," Lana said. She threw back her head, kicked her legs, and burped so loud that it hurt Lincoln's ear drums.
Mom glared. "Lana, no bodily functions at the table."
Well...Ronnie Anne was fitting in, at least. Luna, Leni, and Luan all liked her; Luna said she was rockin and Leni called her totes adorbs. Lynn was kind of a bully herself so she loved RA, which was good, since she could have wound up hating her. You know how people who are too alike don't get along, right? Lana liked her too. Lucy and Lisa, on the other hand, didn't seem impressed. Lola either, for that matter. She crossed her arms and arched a critical brow. "So she's the reason Lincy's too busy for tea parties?"
"Unfortunately," Lisa said.
"She's a bully," Lucy deadpanned.
Luckily Ronnie Anne was too busy finishing off her dinner to hear. Done, she sat back in her chair and put her hands on her stomach as if to keep it from swelling. "I'm stuffed," she said. "Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Loud."
"You're welcome," Mom said.
"Always happy to have company," Dad added.
Lincoln and Ronnie Anne's eyes met and Lincoln's heart fluttered like it always did when he looked at her. One corner of her mouth curled up in a mischievous grin and Lincoln steeled himself. He knew that look. It meant she was up to no good and was probably going to slap/kick/hit him. Instead. She slouched down in her seat, her hoodie bunching like excess fat rolls. Lincoln furrowed his brow in confusion, then focused on his dinner. He was aware of Ronnie Anne staring down at her plate with a thoughtful expression, seeming to mentally pump herself up for some great task.
After a few minutes, something soft and warm tentatively brushed his leg and he jumped. Ronnie Anne looked innocently off to one side like she was minding her own business, looking conspicuously suspicious. Lincoln looked under the table, expecting to see Cliff or Charles, and was shocked to see Ronnie Anne's socked foot. Lincoln looked at her; she was still looking away, pretending to study the crown molding and the wallpaper. Lincoln checked again just to be sure.
Didn't Lynn say something about playing footsie with him?
Lincoln's throat closed and his heart raced.
Kicking his own shoe off, Lincoln nudged the sole of her foot with his toe and she swirled her foot around his. A light pink blush crept across her face and a faint smile traced her lips. Lincoln turned to jelly and almost spilled out of his chair, only saving himself by grabbing the edge of the table. Ronnie Anne giggled and hooked her ankle around his. Lincoln caressed the side of her foot and she flicked him with her toe. She leaned over and took off her sock for a more intimate touch and Lincoln did the same, the feeling of her warm, soft skin making his heart slam.
Mom got up and started clearing the table, and Bobby insisted on helping. Lynn, Lori, Lana, Leni, and Luna took Ronnie Anne into the living room and Lincoln sighed deeply; he wanted to play more footsie.
Oh well.
This was still the single greatest day of his life.
"I don't like her, Lincy," Lola said. "She's mean."
Lincoln blinked. "Uh...so are you."
Lola stiffened. "I am not."
"I agree with Lola," Lisa said. "I know a bully when I see one."
"And Ronnie Anne is a bully," Lucy said.
Oh, great, Lincoln thought, more of this. "No, she's really not, okay? She's just a little...rough around the edges."
"And in the center," Lisa said.
Like that Spongebob meme, Lincoln said Imma head out and took his plate and glass into the kitchen. Mom stood at the stove and Lori stood next to her wrapping two paper plates with Saran Wrap. "...they don't get enough to eat, so I figured it'd be okay."
"Of course it is," Mom said understandingly.
Lincoln stopped and instinctively drew back so that they didn't see him. Whatever they were saying, he understood that he - or anyone else - was not meant to hear it.
"Their mom works two jobs so they can't get food stamps, but she still can't afford much food." Lori sat one plate on the other. "Bobby said that Ronnie Anne had to pay late fees to school before they'd let her get lunches on credit again."
"Oh, that's terrible," Mom said. "How much?"
"Five dollars," Lori said. "She borrowed it from Lincoln. Bobby says she won't shut up about him." She laughed. "She really likes him."
Lincoln did a double take.
She likes me?
She REALLY likes me?
His beam was bright enough to dazzle anyone who saw it, but it instantly dimmed when he registered everything else Lori had said. Suddenly, the way Ronnie Anne scarfed down her food like she hadn't eaten in days made sense. She hadn't eaten in days.
Lincoln's stomach knotted at the thought of Ronnie Anne going hungry. He figured her family was kind of poor, but nothing like that.
In that moment, Lincoln resolved to do something about it. He didn't have much money to give her, but he refused to let the girl he liked - and who liked him - go without. That's not what a man does. A man makes sure the ones he loves are taken care of.
But how?
An idea came to him.
He would cook for her.
Mind made up, he went into the living room, where Ronnie Anne sat on the couch with Lynn and Lana. He sat next to her, and Ronnie Anne smiled, genuinely happy to see him. "Hey, lame-o," she said and punched his arm.
Hard.
Tears welled in his eyes. They were tears of pain...but also of joy,
"Hey," he said.
When she and Bobby left an hour later, Ronnie Anne looked disappointed. "Maybe we can hang out tomorrow," Lincoln offered.
"I'd like that," she said.
So it was set.
He and Ronnie Anne were officially dating.
He couldn't wait until tomorrow.