In her room, Lynn slammed the door and flashed, punching it. She turned, consumed with fury, and swiped a trophy off of her dresser: It fell to the floor and broke. That made her even madder because she worked hard for that trophy, so she kicked it: it skitted across the floor and smacked into her nightstand.

She was seething, panting like a wild animal. On her bed, Lucy watched her impassively, a book forgotten in her lap.

"I hate that bitch!" Lynn roared. She looked around for something to vent her wrath on, and settled for her poster of Michael Jordan: She ripped it off the wall and tore it to shreds. When she was done, she dropped onto the edge of her bed, put her face in her hands, and wept.

Lucy looked down at her book and then back up at her sister. Lynn got angry a lot, but not like this. A blowout this big meant something serious was going on. Lucy tried to decide whether she should ask what happened or keep her mouth closed. With Lynn, you never knew what kind of reaction you would get. She might open up...or she might yell at her like she did something wrong. Lucy watched her sister's shoulders shake with the force of her sobs, and sighed. "What happened?"

"Mom..." Lynn sniffed. "She pulled me off all my sports teams."

Lucy blinked behind her bangs. "Why did she do that?"

"Because she's a cruel, sadistic bitch." Lynn threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in her pillow. Lucy watched her with a broken heart. Sports were Lynn's passion. Not playing them was to her what not writing poems or wearing black was to Lucy. Lucy didn't know much about how Lynn's teams worked, but she did know that Lynn had to maintain a certain GPA to stay on them. Lynn, as far as Lucy knew, was maintaining that GPA, so...why? She didn't understand.

Was Mom in one of her moods again?

It was well-known in the Loud house that Mom sometimes got a hair across her butt, as the saying went. Mom could be kind of a bitch when she was in one of her moods, but taking Lynn off all her sports teams for no reason? That seemed beyond the pale. There must be more to it than Lynn was letting on.

Whatever it was, taking Lynn off all her teams was harsh.

Lucy sighed again. She closed her book, sat it aside, and got up, crossing to her sister's bed. She sat down and laid her hand on her back. Lynn hitched under her touch. She was really looking forward to the game tonight, and Lucy felt awful. "Maybe we can talk to her at dinner," she offered, because she had to say something: She didn't like seeing her big sister suffer.

"She won't listen," Lynn said muffedly into her pillow. "She's a fucking bitch."

"We can try."

Sometimes in life, that's all you can do. "It's worth a shot."

Lynn continued crying, and Lucy rubbed her back. An idea occurred to her. "Maybe if you did something nice for her...?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. An apology card?"

Lynn rolled partially over so that her tear-streaked face was exposed. "But I didn't do anything."

"So...you just walked through the door and she said she was taking you off all your teams?"

"Pretty much," Lynn said.

Lucy pursed her lips. "There has to be a reason."

"Well...she said my grades are slipping...and she found something I shouldn't have had."

Lucy blinked. "What?"

Lynn went stiff under her hand. "Nothing. It's not like it was drugs or a gun or anything, and my grades are the same as they've always been. Better, actually, since Lisa's tutoring me."

Hm. "Well...apologize for whatever you had and work to get your grades better."

Lynn sighed. "That's easier said than done."

"Why?"

"Because I'm depressed." She buried her head back into her pillow.

Lynn Loud Sr. left work fifteen minutes earlier than usual Friday afternoon, and avoided the interstate because he knew traffic would be backed up. He stopped for gas at Flip's only because he had to, then went directly home, pulling into the driveway twenty minutes before they would have to leave for Lynn's game. He was proud of himself. By this point, he had it down to a science.

When he came through the front door, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack. Lori and Leni were sitting on the couch, watching TV. Lori glanced up at him. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, sweetie," he said. He came into the living room and stopped when he smelled something odd.

Dinner cooking. Chicken...and rolls?

On nights that Lynn had a game, they usually grabbed something from Burger World or Donny's Pizza. Why was Rita cooking?

He found his wife standing at the stove and stirring a pot full of instant mashed potatoes. She glanced up when he came in. "Hey, honey." Her tone was flat, toneless.

"What's all this?" he asked, spreading his hands.

"Dinner," Rita replied.

Lynn was confused. "Why? We don't have time for this. We have to leave in less than twenty minutes."

"We're not going to Lynn's game," Rita said firmly. "I talked to her coaches and had her taken off of her teams."

"What?"

Rita looked at him, her eyes hard.

"Why?" Lynn demanded.

"Because her grades are bad and I found a pornographic magazine in her bedroom today."

Lynn gaped. "Her grades are fine. As for a dirty magazine..."

"She's off her teams, Lynn, and that's that." She slammed a lid down onto the potatoes and turned away.

Lynn sighed.

She was having one of her 'moods' again. Every couple months, she would become aggressive and hostile. She refused to see a doctor, but Lynn suspected that it had something to do with the post-partem depression she suffered after Lincoln was born. It was strange: Many mothers who suffer PPD experience negative feelings toward the baby...Rita experienced negative feelings toward their daughters. For nearly a month, she could barely stand to be in the same room with them and accused them of trying to "take Lincoln away" from her. She clung to her baby, and sometimes she would shut herself and Lincoln up in the bedroom and not come out for days. Over time, she got better, but every once in a while, she would lapse.

"You know how much sports means to her," Lynn said. It did little good to argue with her, but yanking Lynn off of her teams like this was too much.

"I don't care about sports," she said. "I care about her grades."

"Her grades are fine."

"No they're not!" Rita shrieked. She bent at the waist, her eyes flashing. "Her grades are shit! She's shit!"

"Rita!"

Moving with a fluidity born of madness, she grabbed the pot of potatoes from the stove and flung it at him: He ducked, and it hit the wall, splattering everywhere. "Get out of my kitchen!"

Lynn stood where he was. He would have obeyed had he been able to, but he was frozen, his muscles petrified in shock. He hadn't seen her this bad in eleven years.

"Go away," she said, her tone going flat once more. "I'm cooking dinner."

Swallowing, Lynn did as he was told. When he entered the living room, Leni and Lori were both looking at him strangely, their eyes questioning. He looked away and went up the stairs, feeling lost and not knowing what to do. He always felt this way during one of Rita's episodes, and he hated it. At the head of the stairs, he remembered his daughter. God, she must be broken up beyond belief right now.

He went to her door and knocked.

"Yeah?" Lucy called.

"It's Dad," he said, "can I come in?"

"Yeah!"

He opened the door and went in. Lynn was lying face down on her bed, Lucy was sitting next to her, her hand resting on her sister's back. Lynn Sr.'s heart twisted. Though his namesake was unmoving, he could sense her misery, and for a moment he was so angry with his wife that he could have hit her.

"Hey, honey," Lynn said, sitting next to Lucy and patting Lynn Jr. on the shoulder, "how are you?"

"Terrible," Lynn Jr. said. "Mom pulled me off all my teams."

"I know," Lynn Sr. said. The raw pain in her voice hurt his heart. "Your mother and I are going to have a long talk. You just need to understand that she's going through a rough time right now."

He hated what Rita's episodes did this to his family, and he hated having to explain to his daughters why their mother was being unreasonable. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him or to them or even to Rita; it wasn't fair that she still suffered like this all these years later.

But like they say, life itself isn't fair. Families go through rough patches all the time; all it takes to get through them are love and dedication to one another.

"Just...be patient with her. She doesn't mean it."

At dinner that night, a black pall hung over the table. Lincoln felt it, and inferred from the wan, guarded faces and worried eyes of his older sisters that something was wrong. He glanced at his father, but his face was impassive. He looked at his mother, and she glanced up at him with a sunny smile. "How was your day, honey?"

"Uh, it was good," he said nervously.

"That's good. How did you do on your math test?"

"I...I don't think I did too good."

"Oh well," Mom said, shrugging one shoulder, "you'll never use most of what you learn in school anyway."

Dad and Lynn both shot daggers at her, but she wasn't paying attention. Lynn looked next at him, his brows knitted in an angry V, and he drew back. It was only then that it hit him: They were supposed to be at Lynn's game right now.

He opened his mouth to ask why they weren't, but closed it again, suddenly sure that bringing it up was a bad idea.

Was Mom in one of her moods again?

Every three months or so, his mother would start acting strange. She was mean to his sisters but extra nice to him. He didn't understand it, and the one time he asked his father, he said it had something to do with post-partum depression. Lincoln had never heard that term before and looked it up: Sometimes after having a baby, a woman gets really sad and moody. It usually goes away after a while. Lilly was a year and a half old; post-partum depression shouldn't last that long. Come to think of it, she was having these episodes before Lilly was born. Hm.

After dinner, Lincoln helped Luna with the dishes. When they were alone in the kitchen, he asked, "Why didn't we go to Lynn's game?"

Luna sighed. "Because Mom pulled Lynn off all her teams."

"What?"

She nodded, picking a plate out of the sink and looking down at it. "Yup."

"Why?"

"She says it's her grades but her grades are alright. She showed me her last report card. Hell, she's doing better than I am."

Lincoln's brow furrowed. Why would Mom do that? Sports was Lynn's everything. Her grades were obviously good enough that her coaches weren't complaining, so why would Mom be so upset? Sure, she had her moods, but...

Lincoln suddenly felt very bad for Lynn; he understood now why she was upset at him. It wasn't him personally, she was just angry in general.

When the dishes were done, he started up the stairs, planning to talk to her, but Mom called out from the couch. "Lincoln, could you come here, please?"

Lincoln winced. When his mother was like this, she wanted to spend time with him. Which was great, because they rarely got to bond one-on-one. The downside was she sometimes kept him at her side all day, and if he tried to extract himself, she would get upset and cry and accuse him of not loving her.

Powerless to resist, he went over to the couch. His mother smiled at him and patted the cushion next to her. "Sit."

He sat, and she put her arm around his shoulder, drawing him close. "Do you want to watch a movie?" she asked, leaning her face into his. Her eyes were intense, unwavering. The smell of her perfume choked him.

"Actually, I was going to..." he stammered.

"What do you want to watch?" she asked, turning to the TV and pointing the remote at it.

"I don't..."

"Oooh, look, The Notebook is on! That's my favorite movie." She looked at her son. "It's so romantic."

Lincoln's throat constricted and he was suddenly very uncomfortable. She tightened her grip around him, and he fell into her. "I love spending time with you," she said dreamily as she ran her fingers through his hair; a shiver went down his spine...and not a good kind of shiver.

"I...I love spending time with you too," he said, because what else could he say? It wasn't a lie, though this time around, he would rather be anywhere else.

Why? It's just Mom.

Yeah, Mom in one of her moods.

She flicked his cowlick and giggled like a girl. "You're such a handsome young man. I bet the girls just fawn over you."

He laughed nervously. "Not really."

"Well," she said, "girls are stupid sometimes. They don't know how to appreciate a gentleman like you...that takes a woman." Lincoln looked up; his mother was staring down at him with half-lidded eyes and a grin. Lincoln swallowed hard.

"Rita, can...?"

Lincoln looked up as his father came in from the kitchen; he tried his best to plead with his eyes. Help me.

Dad stopped, his brow crinkling. "What's going on?"

"Lincoln and I are watching a movie," Mom said without turning. "Go away."

Dad cringed, then took a deep breath. "I need Lincoln's help."

"Too bad, get one of your daughters."

"Rita..."

Mom spun to face Dad, her arm tightening around Lincoln's neck. "I said go away, Lynn!"

She turned back to the TV with a sigh. "Your father's always trying to get between us, Lincoln," she said. She looked down at him and touched his cheek. "But I'm not going to let him. He has ten daughters he can bother, why does he have to go after my son?"

Lincoln threw a glance over his shoulder. His father hung his head and went back into the kitchen then through the door connecting to the garage, leaving Lincoln all alone at the mercy of his mother.