Every morning, Lincoln walked to school with Lucy, Lynn, and Luan. Once upon a time, Lori drove them all in the van, but a recent spike in gas prices led their parents to ax all "non-essential" use of it. Lisa, Lola, and Lana rode the bus to Royal Woods Elementary, while Luna, Leni and Lori rode the bus to Royal Woods High. The middle school and elementary school were both within walking distance, the high school wasn't. Lisa, Lola, and Lana rode the bus because mom didn't trust them to walk, even with their older siblings. Lisa was currently at a science convention in Charleston, West Virginia, so today it was just Lana and Lola. The middle school was a mile and a half away from the Loud house. It wasn't exactly a Sunday stroll, but Lincoln didn't mind, since it was better than packing into an overcrowded bus.

As he walked, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his face numb with cold, Lincoln's thoughts turned back to the card and the as-yet-unknown identity of its sender. Would today bring a fresh communique? He desperately hoped that it would.

"Hey, Linc," Luan said and nudged him in the ribs, "wanna hear a joke?" Her eyes were narrowed mischievously and her ponytail swung from side-to-side with every step she took.

"Yeah, sure," he said distantly.

"Okay: A child asked his father 'How were people born?' So his father said, 'Adam and Eve made babies, then their babies became adults and made babies, and so on.' The child then went to his mother, asked her the same question, and she told him, 'We were monkeys then we evolved to become like we are now.' The child ran back to his father and said, 'You lied to me!' His father replied, 'No, your mom was talking about her side of the family.'"

She laughed, her hands flying to her stomach as though she were afraid her sides would split. Lincoln offered a weak smile.

"You okay, Linc?" she asked, sobering. "You seem kinda out of it."

"I just have a lot on my mind, that's all." He learned long ago not to let his sisters get involved with his business. When they did, things had a way of going to shit.

"Do you mind me asking what it is?"

Lincoln groaned. While Lucy's writing was getting better, Luan's puns were getting worse. Of course, that was probably on purpose.

"Yes, I do mind," he said a little more harshly than he meant. Luan winced, and he felt bad. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it."

"It's okay, I'm sorry I pushed." A gust of frigid wind blew over them, and she hugged her books tight to her chest with a shiver. "I miss riding to school," she chattered. Up ahead, Lynn and Lucy were arguing over something, Lynn gesturing wildly.

"Maybe you'd be warmer if you weren't wearing a skirt," Lincoln said. While she had a jacket on, its hood lined with fur, her legs were bare from the hem of her skirt to just below her knees, where her socks started...or ended, depending on how you looked at it.

"Pants are way too constricting," she said. "I don't know how you can stand them."

Lincoln shrugged. "I'm warm, though."

"Don't rub it in," she said seriously.

At school, Lincoln put the books he didn't need into his locker and took out the ones that he did. The bell rang just as he was slamming the door, and he hurried to class. While Mrs. Johnson went through the laundry list of causes for the Civil War, Lincoln gazed out the window, his chin resting in his upturned palm. The ground was frozen, and patches of snow leftover from the storm two weeks ago dotted the athletic field. Who could it be? He looked around the room, his gaze resting on each girl. It had to be one of them, right? Or was it a girl from another class who pined from afar?

For some reason, he liked the thought of a girl pining for him.

But why didn't she come forward? It wasn't like he was some cool, good looking jock who was out of her league. He was a dork, a geek, a spaz. He'd be lucky if any girl liked him.

What did she see in him?

He didn't know. Was it his snowy old man hair? His jagged front teeth? His ugly, splotchy freckles? Were there any blind girls in school? Or maybe she was cross-eyed and every time she looked at him she was actually looking at someone else and thought it was him. He sighed and looked back out the window. A piece of trash blew across the field like a tumbleweed in an old western, going end over end over end in a ceaseless cycle.

That's me, he thought, a tumbleweed blowing through life...directionless...

He closed that thought out. He had a habit of being really down on himself when he was in a bad mood. Why was he even in a bad mood? A girl liked him. He should be happy.

When the bell rang, he grabbed his things, got up, and went to his locker. He exchanged his books out then went to his next class, his eyes landing on every girl in the hall. Is it you? Is it you? At lunch, while Clyde went on and on about his most recent session with Dr. Lopez, Lincoln looked around the cafeteria in a vain attempt to catch someone staring at him with big, dreamy eyes. He saw Lynn sitting with her friends, then, across the room, Luan sitting with hers. Everyone was focused on their food, their friends, or their phones (held out of sight in their laps). No one was looking at him. No one was even looking in his direction.

"I think I'm heading for a breakthrough," Clyde said, and took a sip of his milk.

"That's great," Lincoln said.

Clyde looked at him strangely. "Are you alright, dude? You've been acting kind of out of it today."

"Luan said the same thing this morning. Is it really that obvious?"

"Yeah, it's pretty obvious."

Lincoln sighed. His mother always said he wore his heart on his sleeve, and she wasn't wrong. At all. "Well...yesterday, I got a Valentine's Day card in the mail. I mean, it didn't actually come in the mail because it didn't have a stamp or anything...someone stuck it in the mailbox."

Clyde's brows raised. "Oh, that's cool. What did it say?"

"It asked me to be their Valentine."

"Way to go, Linc," Clyde said happily. "You got yourself a crush."

Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, but she didn't write her name and I can't figure out who it could be. I know it's not Ronnie Anne. She'd die before she'd do anything mushy like that."

"Hmmm," Clyde said, touching his chin with his forefinger. "I don't know. It could be anyone."

Lincoln looked nervously around the lunchroom again. "I know," he said. "It's really bothering me."

"Well...just relax. It sounds like this girl likes you, so you'll find out eventually. I bet there'll be another card in your mailbox when you get home."

"You think?" Lincoln asked, looking at his friend hopefully.

"Totally."

Lincoln hoped so.

For the rest of the day, that hope grew until he was bursting with it: He imagined that if it grew any more, it would shoot from his body in the form of a thousand shafts of glowing yellow light. When the final bell rang, he rushed out of class and fought his way through the hall, knocking other kids out of his way without so much as an apology.

Usually, he waited for Lynn and Luan, then, on their way past the elementary school, Lucy joined them. Today, he started immediately for home, moving as fast as his legs would carry him. Every time he had to stop at a crosswalk or to wait for a car to pull into or out of a driveway, he would shift impatiently from one foot to the other. Come on, come on!

He ran the last three blocks, at one point tripping over his big, dumb feet and going down on the sidewalk. He shot his hands out at the last minute, and his palms took the brunt of the damage. When he finally reached the mailbox, he stopped, took a deep breath (Please let there be a card, please let there be a card), and pulled the little door open.

His eyes were instantly drawn to the red envelope sitting on top of a stack of shit he didn't care about. He reached in, snatched it out, and looked at it with a thundering heart. LINCOLN was written across the front in that beautiful hand, the 'I' dotted with a little heart. He sighed dreamily as he opened it and removed the card. On the cover, a smiling piece of bread blushed. Below it were the words: I LOAF YOU.

Lincoln giggled out loud and opened it. A message was written in purple pen: To Lincoln Loud, the handsomest, smartest, and most caring boy I know. Will you be mine? Xoxoxo.

A cold wind needled him, but he didn't feel it, because he was warm all over, the pleasant heat radiating from his fluttering heart. He floated inside without even closing the mailbox, then drifted up the stairs. In his room, he flopped back onto his bed with a happy sigh and laced his fingers behind his head. "Everything is right with the world," he said. And it was.