Lincoln Loud was presently dealing with an unrecognized feeling, something strange and alien to him, and as he thought about it more and more, he went with his proclivity and his proclivity was to view this unrecognized feeling as brave and exciting and new, but as he considered it more, as he examined his problem from different angles, he wasn't so certain, and this uncertainty made him begin to think about his unrecognized feeling as something negative and possibly even deleterious, and he became, though he would not admit it to himself, not even a tiny bit, scared.

When he had talked to the sophomore in his media production class, he did so as if talking to anybody else. His conversation was somewhat normal, not at all out of place, not at all terribly different from all of the other conversations he engaged in throughout each and every school day. Something happened, however, during that conversation, but what it was Lincoln did not know.

He saw the sophomore in the hall later that day and felt a pang of… fear? Fear wasn't the best word he'd used to describe it, but he couldn't think of anything better. Lincoln felt like he'd never felt before, and the rest of the day, it bothered him greatly. Sitting in his final class, study hall, he tried to lose himself in a comic book, but his mind kept turning back to the sophomore. There was something about him, an indefinable trait or characteristic that drew Lincoln to him. Charisma, perhaps, that nebulous and electric pull that some people simply have. He played their conversation back in his head, and no, even now, it was a simple, off hand chat, nothing more and, indeed, nothing less.

Whatever it may or may not have been, Lincoln found himself liking the guy, and kind of wanted to track him down and get to know him better. Does he like comics? Video games? Could he hang in a little Steal That Car, or was he some kind of anti violence SJW? Lincoln did not have the answers to those questions but wanted them, so the best way was to ask, right? Only that almost-maybe-fear crept back in at the prospect, and with it frustration. Why should he feel fear over the idea of simply talking to someone? He'd always been personable and outgoing - he could get along with anybody and genuinely liked most people - what gives here?

That was another question for which he had no answer, and when the final bell rang, he collected his things and went to his locker. He'd forget about it, he thought. He and Clyde had a project to work on and though he knew he could scrape by on the skin of his teeth, he wanted their film to be the best it possibly could, so right now, that required his full attention.

Outside, the February sun rapidly drained from the ashy purple sky, and an icy wind swept up the street. Across the street, one story houses huddled against the heatless

dusk like Eskimos dreading the coming month of nights and kids hurried along the sidewalk toward their homes. Clyde waited by the flagpole, and together they started in the direction of Lincoln's house. "Did you finish the script?" Clyde asked.

Lincoln's heart jogged. He was supposed to finish the script in study hall but it completely slipped his mind. "No," he admitted, "but I have the ending in mind, so we should be good."

"Alright," Clyde nodded. "I'll see if my dads have any costume pieces we can use. I think one of them has a puffy pirate shirt."

They paused at a cross street to let a bus pass.

Their film was tentatively titled Ace Savvy Vs. Cap'n Hawk, Cap'n Hawk being a parody of Jack Sparrow from the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. In it, Ace falls into Professor Phreak's time machine and is transported to a pirate ship in the year 1718. The pirates imprison him, but he breaks out and takes his revenge. It was dumb, silly, and, Lincoln hoped, funny in an ironic sort of way. When he and Clyde brainstormed it, they had a decision to make: Go for something pretentious that took itself too seriously, or have fun. They both elected to have fun. Media production - in most of its varying forms - was Lincoln's passion, and Mr. Berk always said that if you don't have fun with your passion, you're not doing it right.

"I think I still have my Ace Savvy cosplay," Lincoln mused as they approached the end of Franklin Avenue, "but I doubt it fits."

Clyde snickered as though something humorous had occurred to him. "Wear it anyway."

The last time he and Clyde dressed up as Ace and One-Eye Jack was...gee, eighth grade? They went to a convention in Detroit (chaperoned by Bobby and Lori) and somehow got roped into watching a famous comic book artist's booth for him while he hit the bathrooms, had lunch, smoked cigarettes, and did God knows what else. He'd grown a lot in the interim. Not so much wider but taller. Much taller. If he stuffed himself into that suit, the cuffs would reach his forearms and his stomach would be exposed.

Actually, that was perfect…

Later, at home, he dug through his closet and found it under a stack of comic books. He went to grab it, and a magazine slipped out from the pile, landing open at his feet. A blonde woman with her legs spread and her hairy center bared to the world smirked seductively up at him. She wore open toed heels, a smile, and nothing else. Huh. Lincoln stooped down and picked it up, then turned it over in his hands. Hustler. He vaguely remembered Clyde bringing his over one day, eyes wide with excitement. Dude, look what I found lying on the ground. Naked women. They sat on Lincoln's bed and paged methodically through it, gaping at the sultry images, Clyde in excitement and Lincoln in juvenile repulsion. Breasts and butts were...okay, but vaginas were kind of strange. They reminded him of the facehugger from Alien. Therein, he thought later, lies the mysteries of sex, and many an intrepid man had plunged into the font of knowledge like Adam biting into the forbidden fruit. Lincoln imagined he would too one day, but that long ago afternoon, he wasn't interested. Staring at the magazine again today, he felt a stirring of...something...in his stomach, a faint and muted sensation like the secret whispering of spring breezes, but he could not name it. It wasn't desire, per se, and it wasn't disgust. If forced to label it, he'd called it disquiet, like a small boy feels when he sees something he knows he ought not to.

Rolling it into a tube, he absently shoved it into his dresser, crossed to the door, and thumbed the lock. He quickly undressed and pulled the Ace costume on. As expected, the sleeves stopped well short of his wrists, the pant cuffs halfway down his calves, and the shirt pulled back from his stomach. In the full length mirror on the back of the door, he looked ridiculous. He mugged, and his reflection simpered back at him. He cocked one hip sassily and put his hand on it. "I'm Ace," he said, "and I'm here to kick bubblegum and chew butt...and I'm all outta gum." He giggled. Would Mr. Berk let them put that in? He was a laid back guy, but that might be pushing it.

He pursed his lips and pouted at the looking glass. "Your booty is mine, Cap'n Hawk. Your hairy treasure chest too." He pictured his adversary before him, a 17th century rake with delicate features, dirty blonde hair, and shimmering, crystal blue eyes like the surface of twin mountain lakes. Lincoln's heart skipped a beat when he realized it was the sophomore.

Something akin to terror blossomed in his chest, and he whipped away from the mirror, one hand reflexively going up to shield his face as if from those perfect blue eyes. His heart slammed furiously against his chest and his stomach fluttered in a strange and frightening way. He drew a deep, trembling breath, then let it out in an irritated rush.

He didn't know what was happening to him.

But he didn't like it.

At all.


"Do you know why you've been called you down here, Lucy?"

From across the desk Lucy gave Ms. Wuornos and then Mr. Berdella a look of disinterest. Just yesterday, she was questioned in this very office about the incidents happening around the school, and as a result had been unable to finish her book like she had planned. Now, here she was not even one day later, sitting in the same chair, dealing with the same old bullshit.

"No, I don't. I surmise, though, that you both plan to question me again about the vandalism on the bathroom stall or something. You're wasting your time, though. Like I said, I don't know anything."

Ms. Wuornos shot Mr. Berdella a look. "I think you do, Lucy," she said.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "I hardly believe that warrants your taking me out of class. In fact, I may be willing to go as far as to say that you're crippling my education. Is that what you like doing, Ms. Wuornos? Interfering with the student's educational process?"

"Lucy, this is hardly a joking matter." Her tone was flat. "You're one of our best students, but right now, you're not acting like it."

"Ms. Wuornos, no matter how I conduct myself, I'm always 'acting' like the one of the best students here because I am one of the best students here. Even if I, I don't know, firebomb a teacher's car because I don't like them, I'm still 'acting' how one of the best students here would act."

She looked across the desk at her, likely thinking I don't want to deal with this right now.

"Lucy, let me cut to the chase," cut in principal Berdella. "We have plausible cause to suspect that it was you that was behind the egging of the school yesterday."

Lucy's blood ran cold. She didn't show fear, though, lest she be suspected even more for egging the school than she already apparently was.

"And why do you say that?"

"We have video evidence," she said. "You were the only student to leave the building around the time of the incident. As you come into frame, you have egg in your clothing and hair."

Lucy thought back to yesterday. She had seen several figures in ski masks lobbing eggs at the school, and when she came outside, she tripped and fell in the goo of one. She considered going back in the school to report the incident, but quite frankly, she couldn't have cared less at the time, nor did she really care now. There was too much on her mind at the moment; Lynn had called home from college for the first time in weeks when she got home yesterday, there was a new book club book that she was starting to read, and the incident with Winston yesterday had made things awkward between them. In the halls, when he saw her, he quickly looked away as if her gaze alone would turn him to stone.

"That wasn't me," Lucy said simply. "After the literature club meeting ended, I saw people in ski masks throwing eggs at the school. I came outside and they fled. I slipped in one of the eggs and went home."

"And you didn't mention this until now?" Wuornos asked.

"No," said Lucy, "I guess not."

There was a pause in the office.

"Well, Lucy, the school administration had a meeting yesterday and had a discussion about you. We believe that you're the one that egged the school. Your testimony did not help you, especially since you didn't say that you noticed the egging until after we brought it up."

Lucy sat still.

"Your punishment is a two month suspension. I hope that you can learn from your

mistake and come back to school with a changed attitude."

Silence.

"Furthermore, we will be barring you from being a member of the literature club for good, as you used it as an opportunity to cause harm to the school."

The girl sighed and turned her head to look out the window. The world was still and cold.

"Do you have anything to say, Lucy?"

"Go to hell. I didn't do it."

Was it just Lucy's imagination, or did she see a flicker of amusement in Wuornos' eyes? "It's unfortunate that you're not willing to own up to it. I look forward to seeing your changed attitude when you return from your suspension."

Waiting in the school lobby once again, this time awaiting her mother to arrive and drive her home, Lucy pondered what she could have done to have better dealt with her meeting in the office. Was there anything she could change to have not been designated as the culprit behind the egging? She often found that, when dealing with stupid people, one was best equipped with a detached disinterest. All her life, people chased the same highs and the same simple tastes, but she wanted none of it. when presented with stupidity, Lucy made a conscious effort not to entertain it. She dealt with incompetent teachers with a glossy gaze and silence in most cases.

At the end of the day, there was really nothing she could have done to prevent her fate. She got caught on camera with egg on her, and the people in the ski masks did not; they must have been smarter than she originally thought. The best she could hope for now was probably to appeal the suspension from home.

What if she uncovered the identity of the people who really did it?

The thought came from nowhere, but the more Lucy thought about it, the more it honestly seemed like a good idea. She could prove her innocence and make Wuornos and Berdella look like idiots in the process. Of paramount importance was that she'd get

back in her literature club, too.

Her brain went to its highest setting as she thought of the best way to begin her investigation. She had little to work with; the true culprits were a group of six, maybe seven, people, and from their frame and height, they looked no older than 18. All were probably students at the school, probably seniors or juniors.

She connected dots in her head. A stolen plant, a vandalized bathroom stall, and now a front school wall covered in egg. Royal Woods High wasn't a perfect school, but at the same time, it wasn't a complete shitshow. Most of the students had some sense of respect. There was a good amount of idiots, but Lucy didn't foresee the average RRH student as someone who found pleasure in complete delinquency. Acts like these ween 't very common. Why had three happened in such a short time span? And why were they getting progressively worse? Was something even diabolical on the way?

Something was going on. It was entirely possible for three acts of vandalism around the school to happen all in the span of less than a week in a half, but Lucy found herself suspecting that something bigger was at play here, something unseen and ugly.

It would be a true test to her intelligence and tact, but Lucy would uncover whatever it was herself.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Vanzilla as Mom drove her home, Lucy crossed her arms and gazed out the window. The air was dense and choking with tension, like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Mom stared straight ahead, her mouth a bloodless white slash and her knuckles pale on the wheel. Her nostrils flared with outrage, lending her the appearance of a bull preparing to charge, and her eyes glinted coldly. Lucy waited for the inevitable, and it came when they were two blocks from home. "Why did you do it?" Mom asked tightly.

"I didn't," Lucy declared.

"They have you on camera," Mom said.

"They have me slipping, falling, and walking away," she replied. Uncharacteristic passion burned in the center of her breast and her hands balled into angry fists. The indignation of being falsely accused of something she did not do, compounded by her word (as one of our best students) being given absolutely no weight whatsoever cut her

far more deeply than she imagined it would. She had never conducted herself in an untoward manner during her academic career, never, and that her sterling record meant nothing in the face of this matter infuriated her just as much as it hurt her.

"They have you running, Lucy," Mom said.

"I was upset about something, okay?" Lucy said sharply. "I walked out the door, someone threw an egg, and I lost my temper."

What stung above all else was that not even her mother believed her. The evidence against her was flimsy at best and bullshit at worst, yet Mom was swallowing it hook, line, and sinker.

"Watch your tone, young lady," Mom said. "I am not in the mood for this."

"I'm not in the mood for willful ignorance," Lucy shot back, "my permanent record is destroyed over something I had no part in, something that's not my doing."

Mom favored her with a deadly glance and shook her head. "You're grounded until you go back to school."

Lucy's heart stopped. "But, Mom -"

"No buts," Mom said and turned into the driveway, "go straight to your room and do not come out until I tell you to."

Shaking with rage, flush and shockingly close to tears, Lucy threw the door open as soon as the van stopped and stormed inside, making sure to slam the door behind her so that Mom knew how upset she was. In her room, she slammed that door too and paced restively back and forth like a caged animal. As she stalked from one end to the other, thoughts raced through her head, and her lips peeled back from her teeth in a sneer. Her normally wan face burned deep shades of crimson and her chest puffed with the rhythm of her ragged breathing. She'd find the bastards responsible and tear their heads off; she'd do what Vlad the Impaler did and stick them on sharpened pikes, she'd prove to Mrs. Wuornos and the others that she was innocent, then they'd fall all over themselves to apologize and beg her forgiveness.

But where did she start? She knew positively nothing save that the vandals were most likely high schoolers, probably juniors or seniors. Off the top of her head, there were almost a thousand students at RCH, and at least a hundred of those, maybe more, fell into the two upper class suspect pool.

Calming down, she dropped onto the edge of her bed, planted her elbows on her knees, and rested her face in her upturned palms. Alright, let's think logically. The vandals have been getting progressively bolder, much like a serial killer once he establishes a pattern and realizes he can get away with his crimes. Most serial killers, however, get cocky and slip up. The vandals were teens, and teens are, by their very nature, reckless and overconfident.

Those two things lead her to one conclusion: They would do something even bigger soon, and they probably wouldn't be too careful in the commission of it. What was bigger than egging the school?

Perhaps breaking in. Stealing things. Smashing windows. Ransacking the place.

That, she reasoned, could only be done at night.

Slowly, a plan of action began to take shape in her mind.

She would watch the school after dark, she decided, and from there, she would vindicate herself and make Mrs. Wuornos eat humble pie until she puked.