"The CHIPS! The CHIPS!"

Steven banged on the counter rhythmically, shouting into the shop. After just a few seconds Peedee popped up behind the counter.

"Ssshhh, keep it down!" he cried. "Dad's taking a nap so I have to hold my own for a few hours! Don't make my job difficult, Steven!"

Puberty hadn't been awfully kind to the youngest Fryman. His face had become a constellation of red zits, and at current his record was fifteen voice cracks in a single sentence.

He held out his hand. "That's four dollars."

Steven gaped. "What! You raised the prices."

Peedee shook his head. "If you're upgrading to proper fries they're gonna be more expensive, Steven."

"Fine," he grudgingly agreed, and handed over the bills.

At that moment, his phone buzzed, and he took it out to find the screen lit up with an image of Pearl. One of her first selfies, he remembered fondly—she had taken the phone into her room, insisting on privacy, and when she emerged thirty minutes later, Steven found on it a collection of extremely poised portraits, every single one of them a unique angle and setting. In this one, she sat perched on the edge of a fountain, gazing wistfully into the distance.

Steven answered. "Hello?"

"Steven! It's getting dark. Please be home soon."

"Pearl. . ." he suppressed a sigh. "It's only eight."

"And you need your beauty sleep! We still have missions to attend to, remember?"

"I'm sixteen."

"And Beach City isn't known for its low crime rate! We should know, we've been patrolling this town for decades."

"Okay, fine," he relented, and again checked the time. "I should be home in twenty."

"Thank you! We'll see you then!"

"Bye, Pearl."

"I love you!"

"I love you too."

He hung up and shot Peedee a helpless look.

"What'd she say?"

"I need to be home in half an hour."

Peedee whistled. "That's rough. Doesn't she think you can take care of yourself?"

"She just gets worried. She's. . . protective."

Peedee gazed at him for a moment before breaking out into a grin. "Hey, you know, I could give you a discount on these fries."

Steven raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Totally! I just want you to do something for me."

Steven groaned. "Of course. What."

"I want you to call Pearl a Boomer."

Steven grimaced. "Seriously?"

"Hey, you want these for free? Then do it."

"Okay, okay, fine," he conceded, and snatched the money back with the fry box. "But if she doesn't like it, I'm blaming it on you."

No sooner had he walked in the door that he had been overwhelmed with requests.

"Steven, can you test out this shield for me?"

"Steve-o, do you want this apple core or can I have it?"

"Steven, come check out our new meep-morp!"

"Steven, are you free tomorrow to help me study?"

He looked at Connie in surprise. "I thought school was over?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "Still one week to go. And an exam on Thursday."

Cautiously, he turned to the others. "Bismuth, I can test your shield out tomorrow morning. Yes, Amethyst, you can have that. And Peri, I'll see if I can make time tonight. I just need to organise a few things first."

"Like what?" the green Gem scowled.

"Like homework," he replied. "Online courses, remember?"

It was at that moment Pearl entered from the staircase. Without a moment of hesitation she noticed him and spoke. "Steven, can you clean your room?"

She'd been in his room again? This was why he'd had it walled off! Didn't she understand the concept of privacy?

He just stared blankly at her for a moment, fries still steaming in his hands.

She tutted. "Come on! Chop chop!"

That was it. He had absolutely no regard for the consequences and no regret for what he was going to say next.

He levelled her with a neutral stare. "Ok, Boomer."

Everything went quiet for a moment.

Amethyst snorted.

Connie hid her smile behind a hand.

Pearl appeared gobsmacked. "What did you call me?"

"A Boomer," he repeated, eyes fixed on her.

Amethyst burst into guffaws.

She looked at Amethyst. "What's so funny?"

"It's so true!" she crowed, wiping at her eyes.

"What?" Pearl glanced between them, confused. "Boomer? What?— Is this a human thing?"

She looked at Connie, who nodded. "Baby Boomers."

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "Baby Boomers! The generation born between 1944 and 1964. 'Gen X'." She raised an eyebrow at Steven. "You know I was made well before that. I don't understand what you're implying."

"He's calling you old, P," Amethyst sniggered.

She blinked. "Well, he isn't incorrect."

"Oh, I've heard this one!" Peridot piped up. "Boomer! It means a generally an annoying, middle-aged human with conservative views!"

"Annoying?" For a moment, Pearl looked hurt, and then she gasped, scandalised. "Middle-aged?" She looked down at herself in horror, and then the worst dawned on her. ". . . Conservative?"

"Oh boy," Amethyst mumbled.

Pearl drew a deep breath and, pointing a finger at Steven, she exploded. "Conservative! In all my years I have never been afforded such an insult! I detest authority! I am a rebel, I am a criminal, I am a knight—"

"Who put you up to it?" Connie whispered, leaning over to him.

"Peedee," he admitted, defeated. "He gave me fries—"

"Never would I—and have I—yielded to such degrading standards since my education! Conservatism is corrupt, at its extreme right it amounts to fascism—to dictatorship—to think a person would ever willingly submit themselves to such an ideologically absurd regime!—to allow oneself to be indoctrinated in a political game of cat-and-mouse, subject to violence and threatened into obedience—"

"How long will she go on for?" Steven asked Amethyst meekly.

She shrugged. "She's gone on for hours about it before."

Connie left three hours in. Steven did not get any sleep that night.