Through the week, Delmarva maintained its fashion on the springtime. Its temper at breakfast was no guarantee of the sky at noon. Come Friday, Steven was done with it all. The morning was a gift for the crabs at the expense of their neighbors, and he would have none of it. For two days he'd moped in exhaustion, watching his app alerts until the sun rose, then bumping into walls until the late afternoon compelled his body to go through with its imperatives, whatever his intent at that time. At 1:50 the cycle resumed with a new and willfully awful alarm tone. Two days was enough. If the weather failed to agree, Steven would just have to work all the harder to make its peace.

So, all right. The best way to feel normal: rituals. Those little beats that tell you where you sit in the day. Washing, dressing, floss, and breakfast. Checking the mailbox, which he had neglected. But no longer! With a chuckle Steven raised his shield like a dome and scuttled down to join his brethren as the pinkest crab on the beach. And, the only one with a mailbox. Damp as it may be.

"Nothin' better than a letter, wetter, whether big or small." Steven trilled to himself as he fiddled with doors and flags, and inserted his whole arm to the shoulder for some reason. The findings did not at first inspire: a prize announcement for Current Resident, a flyer for a pet dentistry called Enamel Farm, and, alarmingly, a jewelry catalog offering in a large typeface, DIAMONDS—DIAMONDS—DIAMONDS. Steven recoiled, flipped to look at the back—oh, nice watch—then pressed his face against the box, blocking next to all outside light, to make sure he hadn't missed something more interesting.

There was one more slip in the back, half stuck under a fold in the metal. It was a postcard. For Steven! With no return address. The message was a whole bunch of numbers, mostly, with a few letters at the start: "VPLW 123694 431219 268412..." From the Society of Natural Science, the caption read. "Peregrine falcon in flight." On the obverse, there it was. Big old bird. Huh.

Steven leapt as a chill ran through his spine, the rain now cascading off his shield, down the back of his shirt. Okay, time to take this indoors. He found and greeted Amethyst slumped on the sofa, eating from an uncooked bag of microwave popcorn.

"Sup, dude." At least one kernel had made its way into her nostril. "Find anything good?"

Steven tried to hide the catalog. "Mm, not really. Except this postcard." He held it upside-down to match Amethyst's face. "It's a little odd."

"Whoa." She reached out to the offering. "What's with all the numbers?" The kernels crunched and screeched between her teeth, causing Steven's bones to quiver. "This some secret code from your girlfriend?"

He reclaimed the card and flipped it back around. Oh. Yeah. The handwriting; of course. Connie's the only one he knew who did that weird thing with the zeroes. And the threes, with that straight top. And the ones. And he needed to talk to her about those sevens.

"Cool bird, though." More of the corn found the floor than her mouth. Some that found her mouth chose the floor anyway. "What is that, a buzzard?"

"Yeah. Uh, no." Absently, he read off the caption again. "It's a peregrine falcon." Amethyst cackled a spray of half-chewed, pre-buttered kernels across the room. "Hey," he protested.

"You got you a Peri-gram, huh? Here, check out my style." She slid from the couch to the crown of her head, rolled backward to her feet, then sidled across to the bathroom door.

Steven scratched his neck. "For a minute I thought you were gonna turn into a bird."

Amethyst shrugged. "Nah, gotta shake it up." She landed the door a run of floor-shuddering kicks. "Shake it, Dottie! Come lookit this nerd garbage!" She turned back, then as the door gave, added a raptor's screech over her shoulder: "Scraaaw!"

All hair and knuckles, Peridot blanched like a feral sphinx before wilting into her normal dyspepsia. "I was attempting to conserve my energy output for the unlikely event of a sudden Earth-shattering crisis." She yawned. "I hope your interruption is of adequate significance to justify the kinetic loss incurred in my propulsion all the way over here."

Steven forced his gentlest smile. "Hi, Peridot. What do you know about codes?" He held the message up for her, so she didn't have to move her arms.

It took a moment for Peridot's eyes to focus, at which point she peered with her mouth slightly agape, registering as little emotion as she could manage. "There are many forms of cryptogram, but some of the most exceedingly simple involve little logic to speak of. They rely on a shared frame of reference, known to each party involved in the transmission."

"Shared what-now?" Steven combed through the numbers, looking for a pattern.

"Some information that both sender and recipient already possess. Like," she grimaced; analogies were hard, "a key. Not a musical key," she grunted. "Probably. More like a secret operations manual, or a common database. Without that key, any attempt to, erm, unlock the code would likely result in garbage." She rolled her eyes. "You don't need me for this. Without the key it's pointless to consider. With the key, the decoding process would be a poor application of my abilities. Amethyst was right. This is nothing but garbage. Nerd garbage. I'm going back to bed now."

"Night, Peridot." Steven puzzled over this information. "Er, good morning? And thank you!"

Peridot muttered and groaned under her breath as she shuffled her return to the bathtub, shutting the door ever so slowly behind her.

"So I need a key," he mused. "A shared manual, she said."

Amethyst was upside-down on the couch again, picking her teeth. "What about those dumb books you two are always reading? The ones where the girl makes out with the bird or whatever?"

"The Spirit Morph Saga?" Steven scratched his chin, and mused at the Natural Science society photo. "Hrm. But what if that's just what she'd want us to think?"

His companion flicked the toothpick away from her as an electric purple light enveloped her face, endowing it with a large, jagged beak. "Hey, Stee-man," she squawked, "in the mood for some fowl play?" The last two words involved hand gestures.

Steven failed to look up. "Not now, Amethyst. That's very funny, but I need to try a few things."

"Aw, c'mon! Polly's hurtin' for a big old smackaroo! Scraaaw!"

Peridot was right. Once Steven got started, it wasn't hard at all; just frustrating. There was a lot of trial-and-error, and a lot of flipping around. The letters at the start, he soon saw, were a key of their own—or rather, a legend. VPLW; there were four books, and the first numbers were all between one and four, so that had to mean volume, page, line, and word. The books weren't numbered, though, and Steven had trouble remembering the middle two. He also hit an issue with shorter numbers; 27164—was that page 71, line 6? Or was it page 7, line 16? A few rain smudges also conspired against him.

"Will... settle... grange?" Steven scratched his temple with the top of his pen, causing it to click open and shut. What did that mean? Hm, maybe it was line two, word nineteen? "Will... call grange?" Er. No, wait. That was a one, not a seven. "Will call again." That's it. He was on fire now. (What's a grange?)

Ultimately the message was short; just nine words in three rows. He read it aloud:

will—call—again

midnight—on—Saturday

please—pick—up

Yes! That actually made sense. So that gave Steven a day. Or, wait. "Midnight on Saturday? If this is Friday," he mused, "does that mean tomorrow, or tonight?" The pen had drifted down to scratch the side of his nose. "Well, Connie's pretty exact, so it's got to be tonight." That decided, Steven stood and stretched his shoulders back to a working shape. "Wow, just a few hours away!" He laughed. "Good thing the mail got here on time."

No sooner had he regained his standing legs than the room shook, putting him on his elbow. Steven whooped and groaned at the respective shock and pain. He couldn't decide whether to first rub his arm or his head, and wound up a tangle of limbs. "What was that?" A whoosh of the Temple doors, and Garnet was already out front, glaring down the beach. "Garnet?" Steven followed her. Beach City lay mostly on the other side of the Temple's cliff. The solitude was the point. Times like this, though, it made it hard to know what was going on. Pearl was close on Steven's heels. Amethyst took her time. Who knows what Peridot was doing. Sulking, likely.

Garnet held her visor as if trying to improve its focus. "The other side of the old bay. It's big. It's hungry for crabs."

Steven felt his hackles rise. "No! Just when they get a chance to play! Garnet, we've got to save them!"

Pearl furrowed her brow. "The crabs? From the vibration, I'd be more concerned about the city."

"Save the crabs, save the city." Garnet turned to the others. "Let's do this."

Amethyst slouched in the doorway, scratching her backside. She yawned. "Sure, whatevs."

Steven charged down the steps, shouting. "Craaabs!"

At 12:02, Steven's phone began to chime. It was the video-chat app. He'd made sure the phone was charged that night, and had cleared its memory several times so there was no chance of the app crashing. So it did mean Friday night. Sort of. In circadian terms.

"Steven!" Connie whisper-yelled. Steven could barely see her; just a glaze of monitor flare, raising out her cheekbones like St. Elmo's diode. "I'm so glad you're there! Sorry I'm so late. I kept typing my dad's password wrong. I was afraid it would lock me out."

The weight of the week evaporated. Steven hadn't even noticed the tightness in his chest as he'd waited, wondering what would happen. If he'd got the message wrong. If Connie wouldn't make it. If the cell towers would all blow a fuse. "No! You're not late. I'm the one who messed up. I'm so sorry I—"

"It's okay! It's okay. It happens." Her voice was all breath. Steven realized he'd have to find his earbuds, and began to fumble above his pillow with one hand. "That was an intense day. I think I got a little worked up. But it's fine now." He could hear her smile, even if he couldn't see it. "I mean, it's not. But, I'm just happy to see you."

"Yeah, me too. Oh, Connie, you got—hang on." There they were. He flipped the phone over and felt for the headphone jack. Three times he found it; three times he tried to plug the phones into the charger hole. Okay, got it. "Sorry. hard to hear. Had to get a direct line."

She giggled. "I've just got the one in, so I can hear if someone's coming. I think we're fine, though."

Back on track. This was important. "Connie, you remember Asdoughlogy? The place with the crab waffles?"

"You mean the scorpions? Of course! We never, Stevonnie never got to try one."

He sighed. "Yeah, well, that's not gonna happen now."

"Aw, did it close? We were just there a week ago."

"Yeah, it's pretty closed now. There was this Gem monster, and it wanted to eat up all the crabs. We chased it down the boardwalk, but then it saw the sign on the shop's roof." More to himself than the phone, "I guess that fried shrimp never did look like a scorpion tail," he added.

"Oh no. You don't think they're going to rebuild?"

"I doubt it's worth it. They were just hanging on as they were." He stretched across the bed, and turned to one side, balancing the phone between palm and comforter. "It's weird. It's not a super big deal, but I kinda feel like a part of my childhood just went away. That shop had so many problems, but it was always there. And you kind of had to go there to understand what they were doing. And even then it was," he breathed a laugh, "difficult. I, I never really thought about the place, but it was hard to forget. I wished I could have shared that with you."

"Yeah." From what the dim blue light could tell, Connie's head was down, away from the screen. "I wish I could have been there today."

"I know, right?"

"No, I mean." Connie was up again, her face propped on her knuckles. "You're right. This sucks, but we'll make it work. We're making it work. I'll see you soon enough. But." Her breath kept stopping, then restarting before it came all the way out. "It's all bunched up. I don't, I just, I miss you. Like, I really miss you."

"Yeah." Steven rubbed the fingers of his off hand. "It's getting, I'm, I feel kind of confused when we're not together." He paused. "I mean, together-together, or just..."

"Right."

"Either way," he grumbled, "I feel like I don't want to do anything, because I want to share it all with you. And if you're not there, I'm like, well, there's another thing wasted." Connie giggled. Steven didn't think it was that funny, but he was encouraged. "It's, I get the big things. They, it makes sense; I wish you were there today. But..."

"But, brushing your teeth?"

"Yes!" Connie recoiled as Steven shouted. "Sorry. I mean."

"Steven, that's why I was so crazy the other day."

"You weren't crazy. You were..." He pondered. "Excitable."

Even in that light, Steven could make out her smile. "If you say so."

"Oh! Connie!" She jumped again and pulled out her earbud. Steven waited until she'd finished rubbing her ear and switched to the opposite phone, then dialed down to shout-whisper. "Connie, I got to show you something. Hang on." He scouted for the best presentation: light, framing, the kind of privacy this house didn't really afford. Not many options; he unplugged his earbuds, set the phone on his dresser, and aimed the desk light at himself. "Ow!" Steven squinted against the bulb; red dots danced across his vision. "Tell me if you can see me okay," he said.

"Better than you me, I do reckon." Connie's voice had grown wry. "Steven, should I be asking—"

"No, just wait. I'm doing a thing. Trust me."

"Roger."

Steven cleared his throat.

"Nice pajamas."

"Thank you. Which leads me to our presentation of the evening."

"Morning."

"If I could have hush from the studio audience?"

"Sorry."

"So what's always the hardest part of the morning? You wake up, you get washed, and you find all your clothes are torn up in a muddy pile, am I right?"

"I must admit, this has happened to me."

"I know, right?" Steven shrugged theatrically. "So what if I told you there was a way to never feel like you had to rummage through the back of someone else's car just to get dressed for the day?"

"Steven..."

"Whether it's wet out," and there Steven was in a yellow raincoat and galoshes. Connie fell from her chair, the earbud ejecting with a painful pop. "Cold and windy," the raincoat now a down jacket and scarf, "or just your typical Steven day." A pink flash resolved into Steven's jeans and a star shirt. He raised an eyebrow, as Connie tried and failed to lever herself back to the chair. "Maybe even a special Steven eve?" The shirt became a spare blouse that Connie had been missing. A double-take shattered Steven's performative confidence; with a stammer and fumble, the blouse was swapped for the pink shirt she had given him.

Connie propped against the desk and half-yelled at the screen. "Steven! How are you—" Hearing herself, she flinched, a hand over her mouth, then bent down to search for the earbuds.

"It's Mom's gem! Looks like I can store more than a shield in there. It's kind of tricky, and I'm not sure how things come out all the time, but—"

"This is, it's so," Connie pushed the bounds of a whisper, "it's, how much can you store in there?"

He shrugged. "I dunno! It's all untested. Pretty much. I'm not sure how it works yet, except it kind of just, uh, does, when I want it to?"

"Well, how do you find things? Do you just have to remember what you have?"

Steven scratched his head. "You seem to know all the questions. Yeah, um. Maybe we can figure that out later?" He coughed. "Together?" He squinted past the lamp, trying to see the phone. "Connie?"

"To-," Words escaped her. "You mean..."

"Yeah. I've already got our whole wardrobe in here. The stuff we bought for Stevonnie. And, um, I made a list, just in case I forget something. And I put that in here too." With a rose light, it materialized in his hand. Then, as quickly, it was gone. "I don't know what'll happen when it reaches its limit. If there even is one."

"So," Connie chewed her lip, "we can just, change at will? Like, like—"

Steven waggled his eyebrows. "A magical girl?"

"I... was going to say a super ranger. But, yes. Some kind of superhero."

He gasped. "Steven has an idea!"

Connie planted down, actually finding the chair this time. "By golly, I believe I'm with you on this. I mean, we do have super strength. And we can hover!"

"And we've got this cool shield!" And there it was.

"But do you think this is... a little much?" She was grasping for some handle on reason. Something to hold back the mania. "Aren't the Gems already kind of superheroes?"

"What, no? They're just Gems! They're perfectly normal ancient magical alien people." He began to jab a palm with his index finger. "Superheroes have a secret identity. They have a cool name, and complicated origin stories that keep changing over time while retaining the same basic ideas."

"And... Stevonnie has a secret identity." Connie was overcome with awe. "It's us."

"That's right!" Steven closed his hands. "Just your everyday millionaire playboy and, er..."

"And a truth-seeking girl reporter," Connie continued. "You bring the means, I bring the method. And when trouble arises, together we become..."

Steven raised his hands in a pre-planned shrug. "The... Crystal Crusader?"

"Hmm," she said. "That is... very close to ideal. I like the consonance."

"Con-sonant Connie. Why, of course!" Steven chuckled.

"Okay, don't do that."

"Consarn it. That is, er. Sorry."

Despite herself, Connie yawned. "Oh, crimminy. You know, I've been waiting so long to talk to you, but I think I, uh, kind of over-exerted myself here."

"You want to call it a night?"

"No. But, my dad will be working every night this weekend." Another yawn broke past her guard. "We can continue this tomorrow, same time, if that's all right?"

"Yeah, all right," Steven muttered." I wish we could just, well, not have to."

"I know. I'm—" She clenched her jaw, and started again. "You better have some good plans for tomorrow. We've got important work to do."

Seeing her now, in the strengthened glare from her screen, Steven's eye began to water. Still, he jabbed his chest with a thumb. "Hey, this man's got nothing but plans." He sniffed. "And Connie?"

"Yeah?"

"This is gonna be awesome."