Lincoln Loud woke on the morning of September 23 to the buzzing of his cellphone on the nightstand. It must have been going on for a while because right before his bleary eyes fluttered open, the incessant buzzzzzzz wormed its way into his dreams. For some reason, his mind conjured an image of him standing at a cracked and water splotched mirror that looked a lot like the one in the house of horrors masquerading as a bathroom at Flip's. He worked for Flip for a while and no matter how hard he scrubbed the toilet and sink, they never seemed to come clean, the layers of grime so thick that they had become one with the porcelain.
In this dream, Lincoln was naked, or at least stripped to the waist. His naked chest was on full display, as scrawny and hairless as it was when he was eleven. His skin was smooth and unblemished, the deep tan he'd picked up over the summer beginning to fade as autumn drew inevitably and inexorably on. Though it was still fairly early in the season, it had been kind of chilly since the end of August. Daytime temps reached only into the mid seventies at their peak and at night, it got down to the high forties and low fifties. He hadn't gone without a shirt in several weeks and denied the warming rays of the sun, his flesh was beginning to revert back to the pasty, pallid pallor of his Scottish ancestors. In his hand, he held an electric razor and stared at his face, but it wasn't his face at all. It was close to his face, but somehow different. Long after waking, he would try to remember just how that countenance in the looking glass differed from his own, but the more he reached, the more it eluded him, blowing away from his grasp like a puff of smoke.
It may not even have been his face at all. Dreams were funny like that. He sometimes saw someone in his dreams but they were really someone else. Like…one time he saw Dad, but even though it looked just like him, Lincoln knew that it was actually Luan. It didn't make any sense at all when spoken out loud, but that's dream logic for you. Everything was all topsy turvy and nothing was as it seemed.
Anyway, Dream Lincoln was shaving his face, which was funny since Lincoln had never had a single whisker. In the dream, he was just as bald, but he was shaving anyway, his expression serious, severe, maybe even a little…scary? He looked like he was about to shut the razor off, grab an AR-15, and shoot up a grocery store. Clean up in aisle three…BLOOD CLEAN UP. He ran the razor over his chin and jaw line in a straight pattern, his movements slow and methodical. A sudden sense og dread came over him, and it was suddenly like he was watching himself from behind. If he looked into the mirror over his doppelganger's shoulder, he may very well have seen his own reflection, his real reflection. That wasn;t him shaving, he decided, it was someone else, something else.
All at once, the dream disappeared and he was waking up in his own bed. Warm September sunshine bathed the room and a light, chilly breeze blew through the open window, bringing with it the sound of happy bird song. Lincoln blinked his eyes and pushed himself to a sitting position. His heart jogged when he realized that the buzzing hadn't stopped. Oh, God, his dream was coming true! Was he even himself? What if he wasn't? What if he looked in his mirror and found the face from his dream staring back at him?
His eyes flicked to the nightstand and he noticed the phone. The screen was lit up and it shook slightly as it buzzed.
Oh.
LOL.
Now it all made sense.
Who was calling him this early on a Monday morning, though? That didn't make much sense at all. Hell, getting a call period didn't make much sense. His generation didn't really do phone calls. If you had something to say, you texted. And if you absolutely had to use your phone's call feature - probably the least used of all apps, to be honest - you texted first and made sure the other person wasn't busy. It wasn't being a Gen Z snowflake or whatever some people might say, it was common courtesy.
Then it hit him.
There was literally only one person in the world who would call him.
Ronnie Anne.
Lincoln's shoulders sagged a little, and a deep sigh escaped his throat. He leaned over a little to see the screen, hoping against hope that it was just a telemarketer calling about his car's extended warranty.
Nope.
It was Ronnie Anne alright.
Lincoln took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, his nostrils flaring. He caught himself and felt bad for being so annoyed with her. He really had no right. Ronnie Anne was his girlfriend, after all, so it was only natural that she should call him.
Okay, well, maybe she wasn't exactly his girlfriend, but she was close.
If she wasn't his girlfriend, though, what was she?
Lincoln didn't know.
He had known Ronnie Anne since he was eleven years old, when she and her family moved to Royal Woods from East L.A. At first, she was a major bully, and made his life a living nightmare, which culminated with his sisters insisting that she must like him. After all, everyone knows that if you like someone you should torment them to the point of suicide. He kissed her, as per his sisters instructions, and she socked him right in his eye, leaving it all black and swollen. At the time, it was awful and made him want to cry, but looking back on it, he couldn't help but laugh. He looked like Spongebob after trying to open his toothpaste. What was the name of the guy SB made up? Crazy Jackfish or something? Yeah, that's what happened, he tangled with Crazy Jackfish.
As it turns out, Ronnie Anne did like him, and after that little incident, they started spending more and more time together. They quickly became good friends, and, in a way, eventually something more. There was never a point where they outright declared that they were boyfriend and girlfriend, and there would be long stretches where they acted more like friends than a couple. The dynamic between them was weird, in other words, and Lincoln was never quite sure from one moment to the next what they were to each other. They would chill and laugh for a while, then they'd kiss and play doctor, then they'd go back to being just pals. They didn't really cuddle or say "I love you" but it was understood that they were spoken for and not to pursue other relationships. Lincoln wouldn't know how to explain it if asked. Like he said, it was weird.
Though weird, their relationship worked for him. He wasn't Lori, and couldn't stomach sickeningly sweet displays of affection. He wasn't a huge fan of cuddling either. At best, it bored him, at worst, it gave him an awkward boner. They tried to do it a few times, but neither was into it. I mean, you just lay there. It's mind numbing. He and Ronnie Anne were too hyper, maybe, or maybe they were stupid NPCs who needed constant external stimulation. Either way, cuddling wasn't for them and they didn't really do it. They didn't hold hands either…until they did. Lincoln let Ronnie Anne make the decisions as to what they were and when they were "it". If she came over, it was up to her whether they played video games or fooled around.
Up until recently, she chose video games more than anything else. They'd get a big bowl of potato chips, a couple of sodas, and play Steal That Car Online or watch a movie full of dumb, mindless action. They rarely had deep conversations about their feelings or their dreams, but then again, they didn't really need to. If they were worried or stressed about something, just being with the other and tuning out of the world for a little while was remedy enough. Lincoln didn't know what went on inside of Ronnie Anne's head, but for him…he didn't like talking about his problems. Yeah, there was the occasional BIG ONE that bugged him and led him to seek advice or reassurance, but for the most part, he just didn't. It seemed kind of pointless. Talking about a problem doesn't make it go away anymore than ignoring it. He wasn't the kind of guy to sit around and talk, he was the kind to do something.
That's not to say he always did the "right" thing or that he was perfect or anything. He just wasn't a big talker. A lot of people that he knew were the opposite. They would talk endless about things they wanted to do or planned to do, but never got around to actually doing them. He was pretty active in the online gaming community and he knew a bunch of guys who said they wanted to develop their own games. They drew concept art, made maps using Microsoft Paint and Photoshop, and came up with storylines…but that was it. They were all talk. The ones who actually did do something…you never heard a peep from them because they were too busy working.
Lincoln subscribed to that school of thought. If you really want to do something, take the plunge and do it or shut the fuck up and move on with your life. If Lincoln had an idea, he didn't blab about it constantly, because doing that kept him from actually carrying said idea out.
See how that works?
Ronnie Anne, he assumed, was the same way. In all the time he'd known her, she didn't talk about things, she actually did them. That's not to say she didn't tell him her ideas, or that he didn't tell her his, but if she wanted to paint her room purple, for instance, she would say "I'm thinking of painting my room purple. I like purple." He would say "Cool, purple's a good color." And that would be the end of it. After all, did she really need his opinion? Did his opinion matter in that case? And would hers matter if the shoe were on the other foot? Not really. What was he going to do, tell her that purple sucked and that she should go with a different color? What was it to him? She could paint the place polka dot if she wanted to, it was her room and she was the one who had to look at it all the time. He thought a polka dot room was ugly and he'd say so, but it was up to her, just as it was up to him what he did with his space. He liked orange. Not enough to paint his entire room orange, but what if he did? What would Ronnie Anne saying "I don't like orange" do? It didn't matter if she liked it or not, he did, and if he wanted his room to look like the inside of a Sunny D bottle, it was going to look like the inside of a Sunny D bottle.
He respected Ronnie Anne's opinion and if he had a major problem, he knew that he could bring it to her. She could do the same. It wasn't that they never talked, it's just that both were people of action who most often didn't see the need for talking.
In that way, they were very much alike.
They were also both easygoing. Neither one of them was the type to get worked up over small shit. If they lived together - he assumed - Ronnie Anne wouldn't nag him for leaving the toilet seat up, and he wouldn't bitch at her for drinking out of the milk carton or not doing the dishes. Ronnie Anne was kind of a bully when she was younger, but she had chilled out a lot over the last couple of years. She valued peace and "chill-i-tude." So did he. Some people thrive on drama and strife, but not them, they were laid back and relaxed.
That, Lincoln assumed, was why their relationship had taken on such a non-committal character. They were so easygoing that they let their relationship slack at times.
For Lincoln, that had always worked.
Until now.
Were he asked by some fictional third party, Lincoln would say that he just wasn't "as into" Ronnie Anne as he used to. That was the only way he would be able to describe it, and if that third party asked him to elaborate, he most likely wouldn't be able to. Was it that he wanted more from a relationship? Did he want less? Was he tired of Ronnie Anne herself? Those were all valid questions. To him, they seemed to be stuck in some weird middle ground between being together and being single. They were middle of the road, on the fence, and Lincoln was getting to the point where he wanted to be fully one or the other. Let's be together…or let's be single. No more ambiguity, no more gray area. There was a song on the oldies station (which Lincoln listened to sometimes for variety). It's about a guy who's "bored" with his girlfriend. He said being with her was…he didn't know, something about a "one hour recording of a favorite song." He supposed that he was in the same boat with Ronnie Anne. They were both in the tenth grade and had been together since, like, the fifth grade. He was kind of bored in their relationship.
It was nothing against Ronnie Anne. She was attractive and her personality was good. They had fun together, or at least they used to. These days…this is terrible to say, but these days, hanging out with her was a chore.
Maybe it was the whole "familiarity breeds contempt" principle. Maybe the problem lay with him and not her. He did get sick and tired of the same old same old. Other people, for example, can revel in their passions for years at a time. God, the Nick fanboys in their little fandoms who can read the same fanfictions and look at the same pictures for years at a time. Don't you ever get tired of it? Don't you ever want something different? Lincoln loved a lot of things, but if he spent too much time with them, contempt began to creep in. He liked classic rock, but after hearing Stairway to Heaven, Bohemian Raphonsy, and Paradise City a thousand times, he stopped listening to the local classic rock station. It fucking sucked. They played the same tiny handful of songs all day, every day on an endless loop.
He loved Marvel movies, but after about the hundredth one, he was so sick of capeshit he could puke. Then She-Hulk got up there and twerked with Cardi B or whatever, and the whole franchise jumped the shark. He liked GTA V but after ten years of playing it, he fucking hated Franklin, Trevor, Michael, Los Santos, and everything in it.
A lot of other people didn't have that proverbial gag reflex. If they liked something, they went full bore, whole hog into it and managed to maintain that same obsessive zeal for years, even decades. Were they the weirdos or was he? Was he, I dunno, a fair weather fan? Was he not passionate enough? Was it normal to get sick and tired of your favorite meal after having it fifty nights in a row, or did it mean that it was never your favorite meal at all and that you aren't loyal and a "real" fan?
Lincoln didn't know. He thought that it was perfectly reasonable to get sick and tired of pizza if you have it too many times, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe a real pizza fan can eat it every night of the week for the rest of their lives and be good. If that was the case, he guessed he wasn't a real pizza fan.
He also guessed that he wasn't a real Ronnie Anne fan.
They had been together for five years, and even though that's not really a long time in the grand scheme of things, it felt like forever to him. Of course, when you're as young as he was, five years really does seem like a much longer time because it represents a bigger percentage of your life. Remember being a kid and lazy summer afternoons seemed to last forever? That's because, as a kid, your perception of time was all out of whack. Six months to you was forever because it was literally 20% of your total lifespan up to that point. For your granddad, it was, like, 1.8 percent, so for him, six months whipped by like nothing.
It's science, you know. Ask Lisa if you don't believe him. She'd back him up on that.
Thus, it was like he and Ronnie Anne had been together twenty years. They were a middle aged couple two decades in and Lincoln was starting to feel suffocated. Is this my life? Is this it? Have I reached the end? Life is all about change and progress. You go to school, then you enter the work force, buy a house, find a mate, have kids. People who get together so early and stay together, it's like…it's kind of like finishing a test with an hour and a half still on the clock. You got nothing to do so you sit there and twiddle your thumbs and go out of your mind with boredom waiting something to happen, but it never does.
That was true, but it didn't bother Lincoln all that much. He was just…
Yeah, he was just over Ronnie Anne.
A big reason for that was how clingy she had become. Maybe she sensed him drifting away and wanted to rope him back in, Maybe she was thinking many of the same things he was but reaching different conclusions. Maybe she wanted their relationship to move forward. Maybe she wanted to junk the whole laidback approach and get serious. Lincoln didn't know, but over the past couple months, she had been acting different. She called and texted him far more than she ever had before and no matter what he did or where he went, she popped up out of nowhere, wanting to be included.
For the first time in his life, he actually felt like he had a girlfriend instead of a girl friend. Before, she texted only when she had something to say, now she'd text him and they'd go back and forth with nothing at all but emojis and lols. Before, she wouldn't be offended if he didn't text her back for hours. Now, she would start asking "where r u" if he didn't reply right away. It was annoying and made him feel claustrophobic. He wanted to say something about it, but he didn't want to offend her or start an argument. It seemed like a pointless exercise that would do nothing but make them mad at each other.
The clingier Ronnie Anne got, the more Lincoln pulled away from her. He didn't hate her, he didn't resent her, he was just…well, he was just over her, that was all.
And here she was calling him before he'd even started his day.
He waited a little for the call to end, but another followed instantly. Sighing, he picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey, lame-o." Ronnie Anne said, "you're finally up."
"Yeah, it took a while," Lincoln said. That wasn't a lie, but it didn't take as long as she may have assumed. "What's up?"
Lincoln had a pretty good idea what she would say even before she said it. "Not much, just wanted to say hi,"
That was her MO lately, she'd call up for no reason at all. One time she called him on a Friday afternoon a couple hours after they'd last seen each other to say that she "missed" him. He guessed he should have been flattered or touched, but at this point, he was just annoyed. "That couldn't wait until school?" he asked. "I'm going to see you in, like, an hour."
"I waited all weekend, lame-o," she said.
Yes, she had. She wanted to hang out but Lincoln kept putting her off, saying he was busy and didn't have the time. She accepted that begrudgingly but blew up his phone with texts. God, if he didn't text her back fast enough, she always hit him with Hello? God, that got on his nerves.
"Okay, true. Hi. I gotta get ready."
"Okay," Ronnie Anne said, "I'll see you soon."
Lincoln hung up, dropped the phone on the nightstand, and flopped back against his pillow. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for the day. It wasn't her fault, he told himself. It was him. He just wanted to be left alone sometimes and she had the misfortune to bug him whenever he seemed to be in those moods. That was what made their relationship work for so long: When he wanted to be alone, Ronnie Anne left him alone. Even if their relationship were still as laid back and easygoing as it had been, he'd still be in this same situation, feeling his same way. Every text would feel like an imposition, every call would make him cringe.
It just so happened that she really was calling him more often and being even more clingy.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Lincoln sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and for to his feet. In the hall, Lily and pounding on the bathroom door and yelling for Lola to hurry up while Lana chased her sick lizard around. "Come back, I promise I won't make you take anymore medicine!"
Lincoln dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, pulled his socks and shoes on, and made sure he had everything in his backpack that he needed. By the time he was finished, the bathroom was free. Downstairs, his sisters crowded around the table eating cereal, frozen waffles, and other cheap, quick breakfast foods. All of his sisters still lived at home, even the older ones like Lori and Leni. Each one of them had decided that leaving home and starting their own lives wasn't for them; they were all going to stay here and keep living as they had always had. They figured they couldn't break up the band, you know? It was perfectly logical for grown adults to not leave home and have their own lives.
Lincoln made himself a bowl of cereal and sat next to Lisa, who divided her attention between her food and a stack of papers. He didn't speak to anyone and no one spoke to him; breakfasts in the Loud house were quiet and sedate affairs, everyone subdued and still waking up. Done, Lincoln put his dishes in the sink, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and went outside. The morning was warm and bright and the grass sparkled with early morning dew. The walk to school took fifteen minutes because Lincoln walked slowly. He wanted to prolong the inevitable: Seeing Ronnie Anne. Every time he did, he felt guilty about all the feelings he'd been having.
But not guilty enough that he wanted to keep going out with her.
In fact, for the past few days, he had been seriously thinking of breaking up with her.
The only reason he hadn't done it is because he didn't want to hurt her. The main problem he had was that he just didn't feel the same way about her. He felt this way before she began to get clingy and to be honest nothing she could or would do would change that. She could make it worse, he guessed, but not really better. Or maybe she could. Maybe there was something she could do to make him recapture those lost feelings, but he didn't know what that thing would be. As much as he didn't want to be with Ronnie Anne, he still loved her as a friend and didn't want to break her heart.
He also didn't want to incur her wrath. She had a temper and there was a good chance that breaking up with her would cause all sorts of drama. He didn't feel like dealing with that.
Then again, what was he going to do, stay with her forever just because he was afraid she would be upset? Of course she would be upset, that goes with the territory. He would just have to suck it up and do what needed to be done.
He was still thinking these things over when he reached the school. He made his way through the crowded halls to his locker. A girl with curly hair was rummaging through the locker beside his and Lincoln took special notice of her because just the day before, that locker had been empty. She must be new.
Someone bumped into him and knocked him into the girl. She dropped a schoolbook and Lincoln bent down to get it. "I'm sorry," he said, standing. "I -"
His words cut off when he saw the girl's face.
"Cristina?"
Way back in fourth grade, Cristina was Lincoln's crush, She was a cute brunette with big eyes and a heavenly voice like angel music. He used to have a photo of her that he would talk to and kiss. When she found out about it, she got creeped out and transferred classes. He eventually apologized and she seemed to forgive him but he never got the feeling that she was exactly comfortable around him. At the beginning of sixth grade, she moved away to somewhere like Iowa or idaho. Now, from the looks of it, she was back.
"Oh, hi," she said awkwardly, "I almost didn't recognize you. You look different."
Lincoln's first thought was that he looked the same as he always had, but then he realized that no, he didn't. He was taller and not as scrawny as he was when he was eleven. He had filled out a little and his facial features weren't as soft or rounded. "So do you," he said. "I mean, you look great. What are you doing back here?"
Cristina was older, taller, and more shapely, but she was instantly recognizable. He never for a second would have doubted who she was. Then again, he spent so much time staring at pictures of her when he was a kid that her face was permanently burned into his memory. She could put on a pair of Groucho glasses - with the big nose and the mustache - and he'd probably still know her from the set of her chin and the curve of her lips.
Cristina shrugged one shoulder. "We left because my dad got a new job. He lost it over the summer and he and Mom missed Royal Woods, so here we are."
"Where'd you go again?" he asked.
"Des Moines."
"Iowa, right? They actually have cities there? I thought they only had wheat and potatoes."
Cristina laughed. "No, Des Moines is pretty big. Too big, actually. I didn't really like it. Too much crime and stuff."
"Well, you're in luck, the only crime going on around here is Mr. Parker handing out double homework on Friday. You better hope you don't have him, he's a monster."
Reaching into her pocket, Cristina took out her schedule and scanned it. "Actually, I do have him. Third period."
That made Lincoln wince. "Same as me. I swear, he hates everyone but he hates our class the worst. Chandler and Poppa Wheelie are always pranking him. They put salt in his coffee one time, and he spat it out and went on a huge rant about Gen Z."
They both laughed. "At least you don't have to walk through a metal detector like my last school," Cristina said.
"Metal detector? C'mon, Des Moines can't be that hardcore."
Cristina donned a sober expression. "You'd be surprised. Every year there was at least one stabbing. One time a kid even brought a gun to school and said he had something for his opps."
"Farmboys don't play, I guess."
Just then, Lincoln spotted Ronnie Anne through the crowded hall and his moon darkened a little. He sagged and something about his expression must have changed, for Cristina suddenly looked concerned. "You okay?" she asked.
Before Lincoln could reply, Ronnie Anne walked over. "Hey, lame-o. Why didn't you meet me in the cafeteria?"
Because I didn't want to, that's why, he thought. Out loud, he said, "I was talking to our new classmate here."
Ronnie Anne looked at her and did a little double take. "Cristina? What you doing here? I thought you moved…like, years ago."
"Now I'm back," Cristina said.
"Cool," Ronnie Anne nodded. She turned to Lincoln. "Wanna walk to class together?"
No, he really didn't, but whatever. "Sure." He opened his locker, grabbed his history book and nodded to Cristina. "It was good seeing you again."
"You too," Cristina said.
He and Ronnie Anne walked off. "Kind of weird coming back after all these years," Ronnie Anne noted.
"Kind of," Lincoln agreed. Kids came and went, some moving in, others away. He could not remember, however, one leaving and then returning. One moved here a long time ago and moved away again a year or so later, but no one who had ever gone off into the wild blue yonder had ever returned.
They reached Lincoln's first class just as the bell rang. Ronnie Anne surprised him by kissing him on the cheek. "See you, lame-o," she said and walked away. Ronnie Anne had never been comfortable with public displays of affection, part of the reason they never held hands or kissed around other people. Lincoln couldn't say he disagreed with her - he'd rather not have everyone looking at him as he kissed his girl - but she maybe took it to an extreme sometimes. She didn't even like it when he walked too close to her. If he didn't know better, he'd say that she was ashamed by the idea of people finding out they were a couple.
Now he felt bad. The closer she got to him, the further away he drifted. He needed to put a stop to this before it got out of hand. But how? Break up with her? That seemed to be the only way. He guessed he could hit her with the favorite excuse of all non-commital partners everywhere - we need some time apart, it's not you, it's me - but he didn't know how she would react to that. Not well, he assumed. She might be devastated, inconsolable…worse, she might be angry. Ronnie Anne could be kind of scary when she was angry. He couldn't let fear of her reaction dictate his life, however. What was he going to do, stay with someone he didn't want to be with for the rest of his life because he was too much of a coward to break it off?
The time was now, he figured. If he waited too much longer, he might get too deep to ever back out. What if she got pregnant? God, he'd be stuck with her forever. Even if they weren't together, they would still be shackled to one another by their child. They'd have to see and talk to one another.
Not that he wanted to cut her out of his life completely, but how awkward a situation would that be? To have to see and talk to someone you broke up about something so important as a child? He'd rather they break up now, heal, and then mend their friendship down the line than to get into a situation like that. He imagined that they would never be able to heal. Their wounds would be kept forever open by their mutual responsibility. It had to be now. Maybe not today, but very, very soon.
In third period, Lincoln sat at his desk and waited for class to begin. Cristina came in and took the only open seat available, the one next to him. "You ready for this?" he asked her.
"For what?" she asked.
"For being taught by a psycho."
She laughed. "I'm sure he can't be that bad."
"I don't know," Lincoln said, "he might be on his best behavior because you're new, but give it a few days. You'll see."
As it turned out, someone put a spring trap in Mr. Parker's desk, and when he opened it, a rubber snake shot out and hit him in the face. He screamed, fell back against the board, and nearly tripped. The entire class laughed ,and he went ballistic, delivering his typical "This is why you little bastards will never go anywhere in life" speech. When class was over, Lincoln and Cristina walked out of the room together.
"Wow," she said, "you weren't kidding. That guy's a nut."
"Told you," Lincoln replied, "if we ever have a school shooting here, he's gonna be the one pulling the trigger."
Lincoln sat at his usual table during lunch and waited for Ronnie Anne, but she texted him saying that her mom and picked her up early for a dentist appointment that she "forgot." Lincoln was thankful for the break but didn't want to be alone. Clyde was sitting with his girlfriend, and Liam and Rusty were sitting together at a packed table, no space anywhere for Lincoln to weasel his way in. He looked around, spotted Cristina at an almost empty table, and walked over. "Hey," he said and sat across from her.
"Hey," she replied, "since when did Royal Woods start serving pizza that doesn't suck?"
Lincoln chuckled. The Royal County School system had been famous for its nearly inedible lunches when Cristina left. "About two years ago, all the students held a walk out over the food. Even elementary school kids went on strike. Two days later, the food was good. Simple as that."
"It's much better than the food in Des Moines."
"I'll bet, they only fed you guys potatoes, right?"
She laughed. "You're thinking of Idaho. That's where all the potatoes come from."
"Oh," Lincoln said. "What does Iowa have?"
She drew an exaggerated sigh. "Nothing," she said, "a whole lot of nothing."
"Sounds about right," Lincoln said.
All during lunch they talked and got reacquainted. Not to say that they had ever been what you would call "acquainted" in the first place. Lincoln had been too hobbled by shyness to really talk to her before. He could talk to anyone, but the girl he liked? He always clammed up and found getting words out to be hard if not impossible. Now, older and more sure of himself…and also not liking her in the way he had as a kid…it was easier, and he found her to be a really cool girl. She didn't read comics the way he did, but she loved the Ace Savvy Cinematic Universe movies and also played video games. Ronnie Anne liked games too, but she was always making fun of him for liking superhero movies, which she so elegantly called "capeshit."
At the end of lunch, they were both reluctant to leave one another's company. At the end of the day, they met at their lockers and Lincoln offered to walk her home. "Sure," she said, "you can point out all the things that have changed over the years."
Lincoln snorted. "What changes?"
The afternoon was warm and sunny, and a light breeze blew from the west. They talked as they walked, and wound up stopping at Flip's for a Flippez. "It's been forever since I've had one of these things," Cristina said. She was so happy to finally have one that she chugged it down fast, giving herself an epic brain freeze.
"I didn't miss that, though," she said and they both laughed.
When they were finished, they walked the rest of the way to Cristina's house, a split level foyer on a hilly street. "It's kind of weird walking by my old house and seeing other people living there," she said.
"Where's your old house?" he asked.
"Donovan Street," she said.
That was six blocks to the southwest of her new house, only about a mile or a mile and a half from Franklin Avenue. Lincoln had had a huge crush on her, but he never knew where she lived. She used to ride the bus and he'd see her driving off…that was it. Where she went or what she did afterward was a mystery to him. "I'll see you tomorrow," Cristina said.
"Alright," Lincoln said, "take care."
He watched her go up the walk, then started home. He checked his phone to find eight texts from Ronnie Anne. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Really? Eight? When someone doesn't reply after two or three, maybe it's time to stop and wait until they get back to you. That's what he did. Sending three or four more would accomplish nothing but annoying whoever you were texting.
At home, he texted her back and stretched out in bed.
For some reason…
…his mind drifted to Cristina.
Over the next two weeks, Lincoln and Cristina became fast friends. They were always talking, always laughing, always together. At first, Ronnie Anne told herself that she didn't care, but deep down, she did. She wasn't normally a jealous girl but seeing how chummy they were quickly began to get under her skin. All her life, she had been a proud and tough girl. If Lincoln ever cheated on her, she would be hurt, but she would quickly get over it and dismiss him. Over time, however, she became more attached to him, her feelings for him growing deeper and stronger than they had been in the beginning. She could have let him go without too much heartbreak even a year ago, but now, things were different. Her feelings were different, her mindset was different. She realized that Lincoln was The One, and that she wanted to spend her life with him.
She sensed some hesitancy on his part, but she assumed that he just needed time. Boys mature at a slower rate than girls, so he probably wouldn't reach the same conclusion as her for a while yet. He wasn't ready to make such a big commitment and she wasn't going to force the issue; that was a good way to spook him. She was secure and confident in herself and when Cristina first showed up, she wasn't threatened at all. But Lincoln and Cristina became closer, and it began to eat Ronnie Anne up inside. Sometimes she would call Lincoln and he wouldn't answer, so she'd keep calling and calling, sure that he was with her. She followed him around a few times and though she never saw him cheating, she did see him with Cristina.
That was unacceptable. She was not going to allow some little skank to swoop in and steal Lincoln away from her. Lincoln was her boyfriend and one day he was going to be her husband. She couldn't tolerate someone else thinking they could have him. She was not quite the hothead that everyone else made her out to be - at least she didn't think she was - but she had learned that in life you have to draw a hard line. If you let people transgress against you, they'll keep doing it and it will only get worse. They'll treat you like a welcome mat and walk all over you. You never let anyone take advantage of you and you never let something go, because that encourages people to keep doing it.
She wasn't going to let this go.
She was going to nip it in the bud.
On a Friday morning, Ronnie Anne walked to Cristina's house and waited for the brunette to come out. When she did, her backpack slung over her shoulder, Ronnie Anne hid behind a power pole and waited for her to walk by. She fell in next to Cristina and said, "I need to talk to you."
Cristina started, apparently having not noticed her until now. "About?" she asked after a moment.
"Lincoln," Ronnie Anne said, "you need to stay away from him."
"Excuse me?" Cristina asked.
"I don't like how much time you guys spend together."
Cristina stopped. "Look, there's nothing going on between us, we're just friends. We -"
"I don't care," Ronnie Anne said, "stay away from him or else."
Cristina stared at her for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. "Fuck you," she said and stormed off.
Bad move.
Ronnie Anne stalked her all the way to school, In the hallway, in front of everyone, she grabbed Cristina by the hair and slapped her as hard as she could in the side of the face. Cristina cried out and tried to break free, but Ronnie Anne held tight. She slapped her again and again. She was about to deliver one final blow when a couple teachers dragged her off. She was hustled into the principal's office and given a ten day suspension, which was no skin off her back; fuck this place.
Her mom and to take off work to pick her up, and on the ride home, she yelled at Ronnie Anne in an angry mix of English and Spanish, so beside herself that she didn't realize she was mixing her native tongue with the one she had adopted (and mastered) 20 years before. Ronnie Anne knew better than to offer resistance, so she put her head down and acted contrite.
At home, she bombarded Lincoln texts and calls. He finally texted back that he was in class and couldn't talk, but wanted to see her later. In class? Yeah right. He was probably banging that ugly ho Cristina.
At three that afternoon, Ronnie Anne called Lincoln again, and yet again, he didn't pick up. Rage filled her and before she could stop herself, she flung her phone across the room. It hit the wall, and thumped to the carpet. She immediately realized what she had done, jumped up, and rushed over to retrieve it. The screen was cracked.
Goddamn it.
She let out a deep sigh and did her best to keep from exploding. Just then, a knock came at the door. She went to get it.
Lincoln stood on the step, an angry expression on his face. "Where were you?" she snapped. "Why didn't you -"
"I don't wanna hear that shit right now," he snapped back. "What the hell was that with Cristina? You attacked her because you think something's going on with us?"
Ronnie Anne opened her mouth but Lincoln cut her off. "You know what? There wasn't before but maybe there should be. I can't deal with this psycho girlfriend shit. It's over. Just leave me alone and stay away from me."
His words plunged into her heart like a knife. "Lincoln," she said through numb lips.
"Just forget about it," Lincoln said, "we're through."
Not giving her a chance to argue, he spun on his heels and marched away. Ronnie Anne gaped after him, her heart already throbbing like an abscessed tooth. Tears blurred her vision and her knees felt suddenly weak. She collapsed against the door and began to sob.
She spent the rest of the evening crying into her pillow. By midnight, she was all cried out and couldn't sleep. Her sadness was slowly but inevitably turning to rage. He couldn't leave her. They had so much history, so many memories. They were meant to be together. They were supposed to get married and have children together.
And what does he do? He throws it all away for some little white thot who just showed up at the last minute. Fuck her. If she was gone, Lincoln would come back to her. Lincoln would be all hers and they could get married.
An idea came to her, and she eventually lapsed into a thin and fitful sleep. She woke at dawn, waited for her mother to leave, then went into her mother's room. She opened the nightstand drawer, and there, lying next to a bottle of lotion, was a .38 revolver. Her mother had bought it after someone tried to break in a few years ago.
Ronnie Anne picked it up and held it, its weight comforting. She took a deep breath, put it back, and went to her room. She couldn't. She couldfn't do it.
But as the day progressed and thoughts raced through her head, she changed her mind. Not only could she do it, but she would do it. She'd get rid of that whore and make everything right again.
At 3:30 pm, she grabbed the gun, stuck it into the pocket of her hoodie, and walked to Lincoln's house. She knew in her heart that Cristina would be there. When she arrived, she crept up the porch steps and peered through the front window. Sure enough, Lincoln and Cristina were sitting on the couch with Clyde and his girlfriend Chloe. They were playing video games and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world. Ronnie Anne zeroed in on Cristina, fury burning in her chest. That should be me…and it will be me again.
Taking the gun out, Ronnie Anne stepped back, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The window shattered into a million pieces and the echo of the report seemed to roll through the entire town. She jerked the trigger again, then a third time. Inside, everyone screamed and dove for cover. Chloe lay on the floor, crying and clutching her arm. Lincoln crawled under the coffee table, blood trailing from his leg. Ronnie Anne just stood there in shock and horror for a moment, her chest rising and falling.
What had she done?
Cold terror surged through her.
She dropped the gun and ran away.
Inside, Lincoln checked Cristina to make sure she was okay. She was shaken up but uninjured. His leg was on fire and he bared his teeth in pain. Clyde was also unhurt but Chloe was gushing blood from a wound in her arm.
Lincoln took out his cell and called the police.
Three days later, Lincoln was sitting up in a hospital bed surrounded by family and friends when the doctor came in to check his leg. It was in a cast, as the bullet had struck the bone, cracking it. He would need physical therapy but his prognosis was good. After his exam, the doctor signed his release forms and he was finally free to go home. Chloe was discharged yesterday, her arm in a sling. Ronnie Anne was found two hours after the attack, curled up in a ball under someone's back porch and crying. She was currently in county lock-up charged with attempted murder, aggravated assault, illegally discharging a weapon in city limits, and trespassing. She was being charged as an adult.
Lincoln's sisters helped him into a wheelchair and pushed him to the van, where they helped him get in. At home, he was sitting in his room, in a wheelchair, when Cristina came in. She sat on the edge of the bed just across from him. "How are you?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I've been better."
She smiled wanly. "I want to thank you for saving me."
When the shooting started, Lincoln threw himself on top of Cristina. If he hadn't, the bullet he got might have hit her instead. "It was nothing," Lincoln said dismissively.
"You're very sweet and brave," she said and took his hand.
They gazed into each other's eyes, then slowly, their lips drew together like magnets. They kissed and an electric charge seemed to pass between them. "I have to go," Cristina said and stroked his cheek, "but I'll be back later."
"Okay," Lincoln smiled.
When he was alone again, he rolled over to the window and looked out on a beauty, sunny day.
Everything had turned out alright, he thought.
Alright indeed.
Lightly, he began to whistle a happy tune.