Linka Loud just loved winter - the white, pillowy snow, the piping hot cocoa, the sense of peace and good will that comes only in the weeks leading up to Christmas, then departs the very next day (like a seldom seen relative). Fun fact: Christmas was her favorite holiday ever; everything about it made her giddy with yuletide cheer. The only thing she didn't flipping adore about it was the shopping, ugh. For one thing, her parents weren't exactly rich, so five bucks a week was all they could spare for allowance, and with twelve people to buy for (not counting Pop-Pop and Claudia), it never went very far no matter how much you saved up.
For another, coming up with gift ideas for so many people every year was hard work. She liked being the best present presenter possible (Linka loved linking lines, and absolutely adored alliteration, lol), so just grabbing something off a shelf and calling it a day was o-u-t out of the question. Compounding her situation was the fact that she had an extra person to factor in this go around, a very special person~
Oh, and Lisa, she had Lisa too, since she was the only one of Lincoln's sisters she'd met and not getting her something would be rude. Lisa was okay, but she could be kind of an ass sometimes. Hope she likes fruitcake, because she's getting fruitcake.
As she followed her parents and brothers across the icy parking lot bordering the Royal County Mall, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her purple parka and her fur-lined boots slipping on slush, panic gripped her. This was it, the big day, and she had no idea what to get Lincoln. Nope. Nada. Zilch.
Ahead, Lane cracked a joke and everyone groaned. Except for Luke - Luke slapped him in the back of the head, making him stumble. Linka's eyes narrowed to slits and she looked for something to throw at him. Spotting a pile of snow, she dipped one bare hand in, grabbed a palm full, and hurriedly molded it. She wound her arm back, one foot leaving the ground (just like Lynn showed her) and let fly.
It missed him by a mile and splattered on the pavement next to Lexx. Whoops. Lexx spun, his face crinkling, and glared at Leif. "You missed, fag."
"What?" Leif asked.
Lexx shoved him.
"Hey!" Leif cried indignantly and pushed his twin back.
"Boys," Mom admonished.
Lexx flipped Leif off, and Leif stuck his tongue out.
Sigh. Maybe I should stay out of their spats from now on.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, Lincoln. She had no clue what to get. To say Lincoln meant the world to her would be the biggest freaking understatement in the history of understatements, he was the last thing she thought about before she went to bed and the first thing she thought about on waking; just getting a text from him made her heart flutter; his voice made her feel warm and tingly (in multiple places, wink). He deserved the best darn gift 15.50 could buy.
At the main doors, a man dressed like Santa stood next to a red kettle and rang a bell. Everyone ignored him and went inside, and Linka felt bad, so she dropped a quarter into the slot.
Okay.
He deserved the best darn gift 15.25 could buy.
Inside, everyone stood in a big group, Mom holding Leon and Dad looking around with his hands on his hips like he'd never seen a mall before. Thick crowds of people shuffled past storefronts decorated with stockings, lights, and paper mache snowmen, the chattering din of a thousand voices forming a roaring cacophony that all but drowned out the piped Christmas music playing over the speakers. Linka strained to hear and thought it was Rockin Around the Christmas Tree, but couldn't be sure.
"Alright, gang," Dad said, "let's split up."
Like, jinkies.
Linka grinned to herself. That was a reference to Scooby-Doo because Fred always suggested they split up. Shaggy, you and Scoob check the spooky crypt; Velma, you check the eerie dungeon; Daphne and I will check the bedroom. Oh, come on, you know they were having sex. As for Shaggy… *pinches thumb and forefinger and holds it to lips to simulate smoking a joint*
She was getting off track. She needed a wowtastic gift for Lincoln stat.
Everyone started to spread out, and she followed behind Luke, Loki, and Lynn because why not? She had to go somewhere. She bunched her lips to one side, then to the other, wracking her brain but coming up empty handed yet again. Ugh.
At the main thoroughfare, the boys went right and she trailed behind, looking left and right as if for a sign that said PERFECT LINCOLN GIFTS HERE, INQUIRE WITHIN. There weren't any, of course, just her luck.
Loki looked up from his phone and turned to Luke, who trudged along beside him, his hands in the pockets of his old, ratty olive green military coat. At least it looked old and ratty - that's how it came, though. It did not, however, come with all the cool band patches on the arms and across the back. AC/DC. METALLICA. KORN. LED ZEPPELIN. Those came courtesy of a girl with white hair and mean sewing skills.
"Can you walk behind me or something?" Loki asked, a note of disdain in his voice, "You look homeless."
"Fuck you," Luke spat sourly, "I was right at home in Bobbie last night."
Loki's face darkened, and he shot out his arm, palming Luke's shoulder hard. "I will literally beat your ass if you talk about my girl like that."
Oh, joy, Linka thought and rolled her eyes. Luke was in a bad mood because Dad grounded him for the rest of the month for giving Lars a swirlie last night. That sort of thing wasn't uncommon in the Loud house, but etiquette dictates that you flush any...leavings beforehand. Luke did not. And what he left was something that you never, ever want to get in your hair.
He was lucky she was busy talking to Lincoln and Dad got to him before she could, because she would have prescribed a much harsher punishment...she didn't know what, but it wouldn't involve sitting around his room and playing guitar for the next fifteen days.
Since she didn't feel like chaperoning her brothers and yelling at them to stop bickering, she ducked between Luke and Lynn and shouldered her way through the crowd. Up ahead on the left, another man dressed like Santa sat in a throne and took pictures with toddlers screaming in fear. Poor kids, Linka remembered being in their shoes, sitting on the lap of a big, scary man in red calling people hos. *Shiver*
Alright, now, what should I get Lincoln? The last couple times she saw him, they read comic books in their underwear together, which is, apparently, one of his favorite pastimes. He even did it in front of his sisters. SInce you're me, I'm surprised you don't do the same, he said. Omg, no! She'd die if her brothers saw her in her underwear. She didn't even really like wearing her night dress around the house except to go to the bathroom.
Wait, where was she?
Oh, yeah, comic books. He liked those far more than she did, so that option was on the table, but a comic's kind of generic for a gift, ditto a video game.
Hmmm...that left her stumped.
Lost in thought, she allowed herself to be carried by the crowd, not knowing where she was going until she was deposited in front of a store with mannequins in the window, their cold, lifeless faces staring out at passing shoppers and bearing too-wide frozen smiles. Linka's lips peeled away from her teeth in an uneasy grimace. Oh, wow, you guys aren't creepy at all.
Her eyes went to what they were wearing, and her budding trepidation melted away. Oooh, that dress is cute. She started to go in, but stopped herself. No. Bad Linka. You're supposed to be finding a gift for Lincoln, not browsing through racks of gowns and slips.
A light bulb appeared above her head and her eyes widened. Unless…
Tossing a wary look around to make sure none of her family members were watching, she scurried in, her head ducking. Don't mind me, just looking for a, uh, party dress, yeah. With ruffles and a bow. Totally modest affair. Nothing dirty or revealing *nervous laugh*
A thin, tiled walkway wound through the store like a frozen river; on either shore, dense forests of ladies' wear rolled into forever. Women perused the racks, men sat by the changing room looking bored to tears as they waited for their wives and girlfriends, and a perky employee with a ponytail and a big, phony smile glided around like a helpful ghost. Linka turned her head left then right, taking it all in: Slacks, gowns, nighties, dresses, jeans, shoes, designer handbags, makeup. Wow, this place has it all. Your one stop girly-girl shop. She wasn't the girliest girl in girltown and usually avoided places like this, so she was a little overwhelmed to say the least.
She had an idea of what to get, but, okay, one, should she? And two...God, taking it to the register's going to be so flipping embarrassing. Would they even sell her something like that? Would it even come in her size?
Hm.
That last one was a probably, there were lots of grown women with the bodies of eleven-year-old girls, poor things. The one before that was I dunno, guess I'm gonna have to find out.
Her stomach rumbled with anxiety and she held her fists to her chest. Alright, big breath. Where do I even start? I don't see….oooh, there it is. In a back corner, headless mannequins modeled sheer, frilly things in an array of colors - black, white, pink, purple, a rainbow of sexiness that probably cost more than 15.25.
Sigh. Maybe she should go somewhere else. This stuff was bound to be really expensive.
She hesitated for a moment, then forged ahead anyway; it wouldn't hurt to look. She made her way through the store and into the back corner; it was quieter than it was up front, and the lighting softer. She stood amongst the mannequins and scanned the selection: See through negligee, stockings, lacy underwear, and nightgowns so short that if you bent over, everything you had would be on full display. Which was the point. An image of her wearing one of those for Lincoln flashed across her mind and made her feel a tad flustered...okay, more than a tad. She saw herself bending, felt the hem of the gown riding up her hips, the silky fabric pulling up and revealing her body to his hungry eyes. A shiver went through her and her core clutched like a fist.
The last time she saw Lincoln was Halloween - all of her brothers were either at parties, trick or treating, or, in Luke's case, egging houses and soaping windows. The same held true for his sisters, except for the wanton vandalism. They met in his world and spent the evening together, the highlight being the crazy good roleplay costume sex. He was a fifties greaser complete with a little leather jacket and swept back hair, and she was Catwoman from Batman - tight black sweater, tight black pants, cat's ears, black bandit-style face mask. Lol, they pretended he was hanging out in a dark alley like a bad boy and she was a super seductive villainess whose lair was a little too lonely for her liking...if ya know what I mean.
Ummm, it was so good.
Anyway, that was closing in on two months ago, and after that long without sex, she was always one wrong move away from getting super duper turned on. It was almost as bad as it was before she met Lincoln, though not quite because at least she knew that sooner or later, he'd come over and….umf.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to stop thinking about it, because if she didn't, she'd fal down the rabbit hole and wind up so hot she'd erupt into a ball of flames and burn the place down. The cause of yesterday's fifty alarm fire at Royal Woods Mall, police say, was a horny toad named Linka Loud. She is being held on a billion dollars bail.
Oooh, that might be a fun game to play with Lincoln: Cops and robbers...the grown up version. She could be a sexy burglar in need of a little hard justice and…
Nope, moving on. She looked at the skimpy little clothes and regulated her breathing. Let's see, let's see...which would she buy if she had more than pocket change? Pink was not her color, and white's kind of bland. Black? Yeah, black looks good on everyone. She went up to a mannequin clad in thin black negligee with matching bra, panties, and stockings. She curiously examined it from every angle, craning her neck this way and that, then rubbed the fabric between her thumb and forefinger like Mr. Krabs daydreaming of money. Oooh, it felt nice...the sensation of it brushing over her nipples as Lincoln pulled it slowly over her head...nngh.
She searched for a price tag, found it, and gaped.
Only thirty bucks?
Oh, I am so getting this.
She reached for it, but stopped. Thirty dollars was a darn good deal, but she only had fifteen to spend per person, which meant if she bought this, someone would have to go without. Linka Loud was not a perfect girl and sometimes she could be kind of a bitch, but leaving someone out on Christmas was waaaay beyond the pale.
Then again, she was pretty crafty...in the literal sense, she was good at crafts and stuff. Surely Pop Pop wouldn't mind a nice picture frame or a kit cap. She stared at the negligee indecisively. Lincoln would really like it if she wore that for him; she could put a bow on the front, throw a Santa hat on, and kneel on the bed all alluring. Come unwrap me, Lincy~
Yeah, you know what? I'm doing it.
Looking guiltily around, she snatched the pieces of the outfit from their respective cubbies and checked to make sure they weren't too big. They looked okay, maybe a touch big. She'd try them on.
She clutched them to her breast and crossed to the dressing rooms, blushing like she was doing something wrong. I'm sorry, little girl, she imagined the perky employee saying through her smile, but that's way too mature for you *snatches Lincoln's present away* let me just put this back.
Whether she was doing wrong or not, she made it to the changing rooms unaccosted, and waited for one to free up, standing by the edge of the bench and hoping the man sitting there didn't look over, see what she was holding, and send up an alarm. That kid's buying sexy stuff! Get her!
Come on, was it really that bad for a girl her age to buy something like this? Probably not. She was overthinking again, which was, like, her biggest vice aside from getting aroused a lot. Just last week, at dinner, as Dad went around the table asking everyone how their day was, she started thinking of Lincoln and...let's just say being so horny your face burns is pretty uncomfortable when you're surrounded by your family.
Presently, one of the doors opened and a woman came out with a stack of clothes in her arms. "Is that everything?" the man asked, a miserable whining quality to his voice.
"Yep," the woman said.
The man sighed, said "Thank God," and got to his feet. Linka waited for them to pass, then went into the booth, shutting and locking the door behind her. A tall, narrow mirror hung on the back wall, and discarded clothes hangers littered the floor. She kicked one out of the way, went to the little bench in the corner, and dropped the nelegie. She shrugged out of her coat, tossed it aside, and lifted her white sweater over her head. Beneath, she wore a pink bra with lime green trim along the top - her mother bought it because it's so cute, Linka thought it made her look like she was from the eighties. Totally tubular, dudes.
Next, she kicked off her boots and wiggled out of her black yoga pants. Her panties were yellow - she made sure her clothes matched, but why worry about her underwear? It's not like anyone's gonna see it.
Unless his name is Lincoln, and Lincoln didn't care whether her undies matched any more than she cared if his matched. Well, okay, he doesn't have anything to match his briefs with, but that was beside the point: All she cared about was the yummy treat within, screw the wrapper.
Ugh. Listen to me, I sound like a slut.
It'd been so long she she saw Lincoln though *pout* And that meant it had been a long time since she got off - she didn't masturbate like she used to; she saved it all for him. Which was probably dumb...but not as dumb as focusing on this stuff when you have limited time to shop.
She reached behind her back, unclasped her bra, and let it drop, then she pulled her panties down. She picked up the new bra and slipped it on. It was a little roomy, but not too bad. The panties were just a hair loose around her waist, but still okay. The sheer dress piece fit juuuust right. She twisted left and right, the hem swishing across her thighs like summer grass, and looked at her reflection over her shoulder.
Yep. He'd love this.
She hurriedly undressed and got back into her street clothes, then slunk out. Now...to actually buy it.
A black woman with a name tag on one ample breast slouched behind the register, looking like she'd rather be somewhere else. You and me both, sister. Linka hesitated, then went over. The worst she could do was say no. At the register, she laid her purchases on the counter and darted her eyes around the room - a casual cartoon whistle-of-innocence would be too much, she figured, but she almost did it anyway.
To her surprise, the woman scanned it like little girls buying stuff specifically meant to be taken off by someone else was normal. "32.99," she said.
Relieved, Linka reached into her purse, took out two twenties, and handed them over. The woman made change and gave it back, then shoved the clothes into a white plastic bag with the store's logo emblazoned on the side. "Thank you for shopping," she muttered.
"You're welcome," Linka chirped and took the bag. Now, to get stuff for everyone else…
Before you ask, yes, Lincoln was having the same problem.
You might not know it from looking at him (dude's a fucking geek), but he was kind of proud, and one thing he really prided himself on was getting his family and friends the best gifts ever. In his more reflective moments, he thought it was an attention-seeking thing - being surrounded by ten sisters, it was all too easy to get lost in the pack, and rocking everyone's world on Christmas morning was a way to stand out. Or maybe he was a kind, considerate boy who liked to see his sisters happy or something. Who knows? Either way, being the Yuletide VIP was kind of his thing, so naturally he wanted to knock Linka's socks off (and maybe other articles of clothing, too). It was their first Christmas together, so it had to be not just special but extra special. So special you could only transport it on a short bus.
Joking, sorry, but seriously, Linka was precious to him in a way that no one had ever been before, so the heat was on this holiday season. He considered and rejected a thousand ideas as not good enough, knowing that nothing would ever really be good enough for her so come on, guy, don't be so picky but being picky anyway. The moon and stars would suffice, but his dimension kind of needed the moon, so that was out. He could always make her something, but what? He wasn't a very artsy guy - every time he tried, the results were lackluster to say the least. Hell, the attic was filled with mugs he made for his parents over the years - part of him understood why Mom and Dad packed them away, but another part...come on, your child made this for you, you're really gonna be like that?
Today, December 15, he crossed the parking lot of the Royal County Mall with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his gaze pointed firmly, and shamefully, at his feet. This was it, the big Loud family shopping day, and he had no clue what to get Linka. He didn't have much money to spend, only thirty per person, most of it earned shoveling driveways, mowing lawns, and pulling weeds. It was hard, backbreaking work, but it ensured that he had enough to get everyone something decent.
Ahead, Luan cracked a joke and everyone groaned, Luna shooting her daggers and shaking her head in disapproval. It must have been a really bad one - Lincoln was thankful he didn't hear it.
"Stop breathing on my neck," Lola spat at Lana over her shoulder.
"Get your neck out of my way," Lana retorted.
"Girls," Dad said firmly, and they dropped it, Lola sneering at her twin before turning back. At the main doors, a guy dressed as Santa stood next to a red kettle and rang a bell. Everyone passed him by without so much as a glance, and Lincoln felt bad, so he shoved a dollar into the slot. Inside, the mall was thronged with people, a low, rumbling chatter choking the air. To the left, the food court opened up, a sea of tables and chairs packed with hungry diners chowing down on burgers, Chinese food, and pizza. The clashing smells of a dozen different types of cuisine found Lincoln's nose, and his stomach rumbled. That Quiznos is looking on point, got meats and cheeses in all the right places.
Dad crossed to the directory and studied it with his hands on his hips like he hadn't been here a thousand times before. This place wasn't exactly new - in fact, Dad met Mom for the first time outside of Forever 21. Back then it was a place called Radio Shack. Guess they sold radios. It was September 1997, Dad said once, and the guys from Sugar Ray were signing autographs at The Vinyl Countdown. They were in line and someone bumped into Dad, shoving him into a hot, skinny, bodacious blonde who turned out to be Mom. They bonded over their love of Friends, Titanic, and, idk, other nineties shit.
Anyway, yeah, lots of her Loudstory here...and Dad still fronts like he can't find his way around. "Alright, everyone, we'll meet back here in an hour and a half," he said.
Everyone dispersed like drunks leaving a bar, and Lincoln went left at random, winding up behind Lucy, Lana, and Lisa. Christmas lights, garland, and other festive decorations were strung here and there, wound around the railing of the stairs to the upper level and ringing storefront windows. Music played over the loudspeakers, and Lincoln cocked his head to hear it over the crowd noise. Sounded like Silent Night.
That reminded him of the movie Silent Night, Deadly Night, some dumb horror thing Lucy had him watch with her last year. Guy dresses up as Santa and runs around hacking people up with an ax. Lincoln thought it was hilarious that every time "Santa" attacked someone, he yelled "PUNISH!" Damn, Kris, chill; whatever happened to just leaving bad kids a lump of coal?
He sighed and looked around as though the perfect Linka gift would magically materialize in front of him, but nope, nothing.
Damn it.
I gotta think of something fast, or she's going to wind up with a gift unbefitting a queen, and since she is a queen, that's a slap in the face. He pictured her sitting on a golden throne and he, her loyal subject, bowing before her...then rubbing her feet slowly and sensually, skimming his fingers up her ankles and the backs of her silky legs. She stared down at him with a diffident expression, then nodded curtly for him to continue. He moved aside her regal vestments to reveal the dank juncture of her thighs, pink like a flower in bloom. Her scent rolled into his nose and…
A thunderbolt of alarm struck him in the guts when he realized he was starting to get hard. Heart in throat, he bent roughly forward to hide it and came to a shuffling stop. Someone bumped into him and drove him forward; someone else clipped him and pushed him into the doorway of a shop (no bodacious blonde for him). Jesus, people are rude.
Luckily, rudeness was a huge turn off, so his budding erection died. Dusting himself off, he looked around and realized he was standing in front of a jewelry store; a little village was spread out on the inside of the window, white tufts of cotton serving as snow. Electric candles provided a warm, nostalgic glow that put Lincoln in mind of old timey Christmases from the eighties or something. Beyond, glass display cases faced each other and…
Eureka!
I don't mean to brag, but I am good...even when I'm not trying to be.
Basking in his accomplishment, he went in and crossed to one of the cases. Inside, bracelets, chains, rings, and watches of every description shimmered under sepia toned lighting. Lincoln scanned them and absently clamped his bottom lip between his teeth. Wow, that's a lot to choose from. What would she like? She wasn't a jewelry kind of girl, but she did wear earrings, and she had a jewellery box full of gold and silver trinkets she put on for special occasions whatever those were (she didn't do it when he came over, so apparently seeing her boyfriend wasn't special enough :Unamused emoji:). He hummed thoughtfully in the back of his throat and swept his gaze back and forth. When someone spoke from behind the counter, he jumped.
"See anything you like?"
He looked up to find a man watching him, his hands splayed on the case and his glasses sliding down his narrow nose. He was fiftyish with curly black hair beginning to streak with gray and a thick mustache that chilled on his upper lip like a stoned caterpillar. His hound dog eyes were faded blue and creases radiated from the corners of his mouth like spider-vein cracks.
Lincoln answered honestly. "I don't know. I'm looking for a gift for…for my girlfriend."
Even though he'd had sex with a girl before and was officially a man (that's how it works, right?), he was still a little shy about using that word. It made him stumble and blush like a little boy to whom holding hands was the apex of boy-girl relationships: Dark, mysterious, and scary...but highly desirable.
The man waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Girlfriend, huh?"
Okay, I remember why it makes me blush now - people make such a big deal about it. Aww, you have a girlfwind? How cute.
"Yeah," Lincoln said, "my girlfriend."
"Well, I know a thing or two about girlfriends," the man said and pulled a ring of keys off his belt, "and I think I have just what you need." He walked toward the register, inserted a key into a lock, and turned it, opening the case and reaching in. Lincoln went over and stood there while the man rummaged around, his mind wandering to his upcoming trip to Linka's world - December 20 was the big day, and you know what? He was far more excited for that than Christmas; Lisa and Levi set the date back in November, and ever since, Lincoln's anticipation had been growing with every passing minute. Days stretched into centuries, weeks into infinity; he was restless, giddy, impatient, and a thousand other things that all boiled down to I'm really happy to see Linka...I miss her like crazy. Her voice, her laugh, the feeling of her hand twined with his.
The man drew something from the case, stood, and leaned over the counter, his elbows planting into the glass. Lincoln stood up on his tippy toes to see what he had.
A silver chain lay across his big, calloused palm, a heart pendant roughly the size of a dollar coin dangling like a pendulum. "This here," he said, looking from the necklace to Lincoln, his expression one of a man imparting a great and awesome secret, "is a classic. It might not be big and fancy but" - here he held up his index finger - "it means something." He stared at Lincoln over the tops of his glasses. "Do you know what?"
Uh, no, he didn't. "That you're giving her a gift and it comes from the heart?" he asked haltingly.
The man scrunched his lips to the side and tilted his head as if to concede the point. "Kind of. It means that you are giving her your heart."
Lincoln opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat. Oh, wow, that was cornier than Aunt Ruth's feet. You're giving her your heart d'awwww *hangs wrist limply*
Buuuut...symbolically and ceremonially giving his heart to Linka, declaring his never ending love for her (something he hadn't done yet) would be a pretty nice gift, wouldn't it?
"How much?" Lincoln asked.
"Fifty," the man said, and Lincoln's spirits dropped a little. Aw, man, fifty bucks? He could do it, but that meant taking twenty from someone else's money. Looking at the heart, swinging back and forth, he made up his mind.
He was going to do it.
The man leaned farther over and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And since you're a boy in love, I'll throw in free engraving." He opened the heart. "Your name on one side, hers on the other."
Shut up and take my money! "Okay."
"Alright," the man said with a grin, "what's your girlfriend's name?"
"Linka," Lincoln said, and his heartbeat quickened. Just speaking it was enough to melt him into a warm, sappy puddle. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes he sat alone in his room and said it over and over again, cherishing the way it felt on his lips.
"Linka," the man repeated, rolling it over his tongue like a strange and interesting vintage. "Hm. That's a new one on me. Pretty, though. What about yours?"
"Lincoln."
The man's grin widened. "Lincoln and Linka. That's cute. Give me twenty minutes and I'll have this ready."
While he did that, Lincoln decided to hit FYE next door. He was planning on getting Luna a portable record player since she wanted to be old school all of a sudden, but now he'd have to go cheap, might as well be on her. They had a pretty sweet selection of used CDs that sold for three bucks a pop, so he could grab a couple of those and call it a day. Luna wasn't picky. Unlike Lola. God, he could not skimp on Lola, she'd throw a hissy fit. Last year, Leni made the mistake of getting her socks and...well...let's just say Leni's sunglasses went missing, and when they finally turned up, they had to use dental records to identify them.
Hands in pockets, he left the jewelry shop and fought his way through the crowd. In FYE, he made a B-line for the USED section, ducking around shoppers and displays of DVDs and merchandise too geeky even for him - I see you, Steven Universe. When he reached the aisle where all the second hand stuff dwelled like deja vu, he started his search, flipping through yesterday's top forty hits (Stingray 5000? What's this doing here? These guys rock). He settled for Powerage by AC/DC, Master of Puppets by Metallica, and a compilation of songs by her favorite band, The Falling Rocks (fronted by Mick Swagger, of course). It was called Sucking in the Eighties. Literally, the title was insulting the tracks...he let out a nasty laugh and he thought Luna would too. Or she'd get mad. None of their stuff sucks, mate, pip pip cheerio, America-plz-save-us-from-the-Germans. That was supposed to be a list of things British people said a lot.
He took his purchases to the register and waited in line. When his turn came, he paid, took his bag, and went back to the jewelry shop. The man was waiting, one arm bent on the counter, lending him the appearance of a barkeep. "All done," he said with a hint of pride. Lincoln's eyes went to a small silver colored box sitting before him. The man patted it. "Your girl's gonna love it."
You're only saying that because you want my money, Lincoln thought. Or maybe he really did know what he was talking about.
Lincoln took took his wallet from his back pocket, slipped out two twenties and a ten, and handed them over. The man took them and pushed the box across the counter. "Merry Christmas," he said.
"You too," Lincoln said. He dropped the box into the FYE bag and left, his step light and springy. Well, that's out of the way, whew.
Now for everyone else.
Linka hugged herself against a shiver and bounced a little as if bending her knees would generate warmth; it didn't. At all.
She was standing at the bottom of a steep hill three streets over from Franklin Avenue: A wood stockade fence marched along the summit, bordering people's backyards, and behind her, barren trees clustered together in the snow like skeletons huddling against the icy wind. Kids zoomed down the slope on sleds, screaming and pinwheeling their arms, then trudged back up to do it again. She must have counted twenty of them, some younger but many her age - boys, girls, black, white..everyone was having fun.
Except for her.
"I'm f-f-freezing," she chattered and turned to Lars, who sat on a ragged stump, his body bent forward and his hands clasped to his knees.
"I don't feel anything," he said, and Linka got the impression that he wasn't just talking about the cold. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Lars's goth act got really annoying sometimes. My cold, dead, black heart; I wish I slept in a coffin; I like Evanescence unironically. He was always talking about darkness and morbid stuff - serial killers, vampires, Democrats.
That last one was a joke, but you get the picture.
Linka scanned the hilltop and spotted Lexx and Leif with a group of boys preparing to go down the hill. This is the last time, then we're leaving.
She'd been saying the same thing for nearly half an hour, but every time she saw them streaking down the incline, their faces glowing and childlike laughter hitching from their throats, she changed her mind. She was soft and mushy when it came to her little brothers, file a lawsuit.
Actually, don't, I need to keep what little money I have.
A stiff gust of wind knocked into her, and she moaned in misery. You'd think that being a Michigan girl, she'd be used to prolonged exposure to extreme cold, but you'd be wrong. She loved playing in the snow, but she couldn't take hours of it. Nossir. If she stayed out more than sixty minutes, she turned into a Linkasicle, and it took lots of hot cocoa to thaw her out.
Lars sighed in contentment. "It's like a hospital morgue out here," he said, his voice flat as week old soda, "I love it."
An image of him lying on a metal gurney, dead, flashed across her mind, and her stomach clutched. "Can you stop?" she snapped. "This death stuff really bothers me. You have no reason to want to die."
He turned his head and looked up at her, his eyes hidden behind his bangs. "Yes, I do," he said.
Though he spoke in a perpetual monotone, Linka had learned to tell when he was serious or not (call it big sister's intuition), and right now, she realized with a missed heartbeat, he was being serious. "Why?" she demanded, her voice sharp with alarm.
For a moment he simply stared at her, then said, "You'd feel the same way if everyone always picked on you." Uncharacteristic emotion crept into his voice as he spoke - bitterness. "I can't even walk out of my room without catching it."
In Linka's family - among the boys, at least - 'roasting' was a normal, everyday occurrence. She thought it was dumb, but she thought a lot of the things they did were dumb. That's to say: Lars wasn't the only target. Lane got picked on, Leif and Lexx got picked on, Luke got picked on, Loni got picked on, even Loki got picked on. It was all in fun, though, right?
Looking into her younger brother's face, she couldn't say it was. Was it really so bad that he wanted to die?
He must have seen a flash of horror in her face: He turned away and stared up at the top of the hill where Leif and Lexx were waiting in line to go down. "It just gets to me sometimes," he said, "it's not like I really wanna kill myself or anything."
Maybe she was overreacting, but she swore she heard pain in his voice. Her heart shattered, and she went over to him, her hand going to his shoulder. "Lars," she said softly, solemnly, "if it bothers you like that, tell them to stop."
"That'll just make it worse," he said.
She started to say something, but stopped. Okay, she could see that. Her brothers were like sharks sometimes, and the slightest hint of weakness was like a whiff of blood. She admonished them where she could, but she wasn't always around, and the moment her back was turned, they went right back to it.
"Maybe I can talk to -"
Lars's head whipped around. "No," he said quickly, "that'll really make it worse."
She sighed. "Well, if it hurts you that bad, you have to do something." She rubbed a comforting circle between his shoulder blades and forced a tight-lipped smile. She got that it might look bad to have his sister fight his battles for him, but she loved her brothers and bad or not, she would fight their battles if they needed her to.
Within reason.
"I'll deal with it," Lars said and looked away. "Don't worry about it."
She did, though; in fact, she was still worrying when they got home an hour later, but her concern for Lars's emotional well-being took a temporary back seat to wow, my face is frozen and my fingers are numb. She stripped out of her jacket and boots, both of which were sodden, then went to the pantry, grabbed a packet of coca mix, and, five minutes later, sat at the table with a steaming mug of chocolatey goodness. The worst part about coca is having to wait for it to cool down before you can drink it. Mom used to put ice cubes in it, but that kind of defeated the purpose.
As she blew ripples in the surface, she thought back to Lars and his predicament. She felt really bad for him and wanted to do something, but he was right, if she bitched at Luke and Loki (the two main bullies in the house), they'd just pick on him twice as hard. The fact that Lars even said anything about it told her that it really troubled him, though, and she didn't want him suffering. I can't even leave my room without catching it. He did spend a lot of time by himself...maybe because the others picked on him so much?
When she was in third grade, she got picked on a lot. One girl named Stacy never missed an opportunity to call her ugly or make fun of her for having white hair. She'd wear a new skirt or hair clip and feel so pretty...then Stacy would make her feel like garbage.
She knew, then, what it was like to be bullied, and the more she thought about it, the more she hated that Lars felt the way she did back then.
Despite him asking her to stay out of it, she was tempted to give the others a dressing down they would never forget. She might even draw blood.
She took a sip of her coca and sighed. Brothers are hard work.
Her mind went to Lincoln. He had all sisters and never had to deal with crap like this.
Lucky dog.
Lincoln Loud stepped back, put his hands on his hips, and studied the snowman before him, looking for flaws and finding them, but not caring because overall, it looked pretty good. Nice, smooth edges; perfectly proportioned dimensions; uh...that's pretty much it, snowmen aren't all that complex. One twig arm was much shorter than the other, though, which kind of bothered the persnickety OCD part of him. He tilted his head from side to side, trying to find an angle from which the arm didn't look dumb but failing. He couldn't help thinking of that guy from Scary Movie 2; he had a normal hand...and a tiny, twisted, deformed hand that was supposedly the stronger of the two.
It wasn't.
"So?" Lana asked hopefully. She knelt in the snow, a pair of earmuffs arched over the top of her cap and her hands resting on her knees. This was largely her project, he played an advisory role and stepped in here and there to lend a hand.
All things considered, it was a damn good snowman, better than any he made at her age. To be fair, though, he didn't think he ever completed one back then - he'd get half way through before Lynn flew out of nowhere and tackled it. He'd be shaping and molding it, minding his own business, then hear He's got the ball! He'd look up just as Lynn exploded into it in a shower of white. One time he got so mad over it he pulled her hair. Hard.
Lana watched him expectantly, her big brown eyes shimmering like two pool of murky water. "It's the best damn snowman I ever saw," he said.
"Really?" she asked with a note of excitement.
He nodded. "Yep. In fact -"
Just then, he spotted Lola in her pink princess Jeep coming up fast, her eyes slitted and her body hunched determinedly over the wheel. He knew in an instant what she was going to do, and that there was no stopping…
The Jeep slammed into the snowman, and it blew apart like a Palestinian suicide bomber in a Jerusalem market. Snow splashed across Lincoln in a frigid wave; snow covered Lana like a blanket; the snowman's head fell off and landed on top of Lola, shattering and covering her too.
For a moment, nothing happened, then Lana jumped to her feet, her shoulders lifting and falling in rage and her nostrils flaring. Lola climbed out of the Jeep and stumbled, one gloved hand wiping snow from her eyes. "That's for -"
Lana shoved her twin as hard as she could; Lola fell back against the Jeep, then toppled to one side, landing in a soft, pillowy drift. Lana balled her fists and brought them up; Lincoln's heart jumped, and before he knew he was even moving, he was pulling Lana away by the back of her jacket. Lana cried out and kicked at Lola's frightened face, the tips of the former's boots missing the latter's face by mere inches. "Let me go!" Lana cried. She thrashed in Lincoln's grip like a small but powerful animal. He tightened his grip and braced his feet against the ground, far enough apart that he wouldn't lose his balance.
"Stop!" he commanded.
"That bitch ruined my snowman!" Lana shouted.
Well...that was true...but even if Lola might deserve a beatdown, he wasn't going to let her get one on his watch. "You need to calm down," he said firmly, "I will deal with her."
Making a snooty little humph sound, Lola got to her feet and dusted herself off. Lana threw one last kick then fell still, the only sound her jagged breathing. Lincoln turned away and faced her toward the house, then leaned into her ear. He needed a bargaining chip to ensure she behaved herself, and he had just the bribe. "If you let it go," he whispered, "I will ask Mrs. Johnson if I can borrow Frank over Christmas break...and you can have him the whole time."
Lana stiffened...then turned her head, her eyes wide with wonder. "The whole time?" she asked.
"Yep," Lincoln confirmed with a nod, "two plus weeks of you, Frank, and all the gross bug eating you can stand."
A happy smile broke across her face and she beamed like a lamp. Ha, mission accomplished. "Okay," she piped.
With that, he released her shoulder and she wandered off. Alone, he turned on Lola, who stood against the Jeep with her arms crossed defensively over her chest, her nose turned up and her eyes rolled to the side. I'm too good for this; this is simply unacceptable. Lola was...how to put this mildly...kind of a bitch. She labored under the perpetual delusion that competing in beauty pageants and being cool with the lines as Rick Springfield might say, made her better than everyone. She was high maintenance, snobbish, and bratty. She had her good moments, and every once in a while she learned a valuable lesson and made the commendable effort to improve herself, but she still did shit like this far too often.
Lincoln sighed and went over, standing in front of her like a stern parent getting ready to lay down the law...which, he guessed, he kind of was. "Why did you do that?" he demanded.
"Payback," Lola said without looking at him. A cold gust of wind ruffled her blonde hair and made ripples in the puffy fabric of her pink jacket.
Rolling his eyes, Lincoln asked, "For what?"
One of Lola's many bad traits was being spiteful and vindictive. A while back, she was having a tea party in the backyard with her stuffed animals at the same time Lynn was tossing the ole pigskin - you can imagine what happened. The ball landed in the middle of the table like a bomb, and Lola walked away drenched. It was completely accidental and Lynn profusely apologized...but that didn't stop Lola from exacting her revenge two days later by murdering every ball Lynn owed with a butcher knife. If you crossed Lola, that is, even if you didn't mean to, even if you didn't know you did, you were liable to pay.
"Breathing down my neck at the mall," Lola said.
Lincoln blinked. Really? That's what she was upset about? Lana accidentally breathing on her? Oy vey. "You seriously kamikazed the snowman that Lana spent an hour building just because she breathed on you?"
Lola turned her head, and Lincoln followed her gaze: Lana knelt in the pile of her broken dreams, her shoulder slumped and her head hung; she looked for all the world like a little girl kneeling at the grave of a loved one gone too soon.
A flicker of guilt crossed Lola's face, and the hardness in her eyes softened a little. Seeing the chin in her armor, Lincoln grabbed his metaphorical crowbar, jammed it in, and pushed. "That's really low," he said, making sure to inject his tone with the perfect amount of outrage and disappointment. Lola looked up at him, her expression pinched with contrition, and he pointedly shook his head then turned away. Across the yard, Luna picked up a handful of snow, packed it, and threw it at Luan, who stood with her back to her older sister. It hit her shoulder and she spun around; Luna arched her brows as if to say what are you gonna do? Luan grinned deviously, stooped down, and picked up her own snowball.
Eh, he was gonna go over there while Lola processed her thoughts, but he didn't feel like getting smashed in the face with a snowball, so he went to the porch instead. When he turned and sat on the top step, he was surprised to see Lola already kneeling next to Lana and apologizing. Huh. He didn't expect that for at least another… *checks watch* five minutes.
Heh. Guess I beat my own best time.
As he watched, they hugged, then started building another snowman.
Oh, yeah, I am good,
He sighed contentedly and allowed his thoughts back to Linka. Five days. Not long at all.
Yeah, no, actually, it was - December 20 might as well be on the other side of forever.
Not for the first time, he wondered what their future held. He already knew in his heart that he wanted to be with Linka for the rest of his life (and then some), but there were so many logistical factors to consider that it really bogged him down. It's better to think of those things than of how much he missed her, so that's what he did now. First of all, they lived in two separate universes, which meant one of them would have to leave their family (and, indeed, the world they knew). Then, once they were there...how would that work? Say he moved to Linka's world. Okay, great. There, he did not exist. He had no birth certificate, no social security number, nothing, and those are vital. You can't get a job without an SSN; you can't get an ID card; you can't get shit. Officially, you're a nonentity.
If Linka got a high paying job, it wouldn't really matter he supposed, and the same went for him if Linka moved here. He pictured them living in a little house on a quiet street, white picket fence, idk, gazing ball in the yard or something, and a dreamy smile played at the corner of his lips. He'd walk into the kitchen in the morning and find her cooking breakfast, then he'd hug her from behind and kiss the side of her neck. She'd laugh and shove a piece of bacon into his mouth, then, after they ate, they'd curl up on the couch together and watch the news or a movie or even a cartoon - it didn't matter just so long as they had each other, her head and hand resting on his chest and his arm around her shoulder. Happy. In love. Relishing each other and the love they had for one another. Ahh. If you asked him, that was the life. They could live in a single wide at the trailer park and he wouldn't care - she was his world, not any house or apartment.
Sappy, yeah, but it's okay to be sappy over the girl you love. Women are soft and warm for a reason - because even hard nosed badasses needed to be tender and gentle every once in a while.
Like a sucker punch in the dark, something occurred to him. If, and when, he and Linka lived together, it'd be a little weird...you know, since they looked so much alike. I mean, it'd look strange to other people. That guy at the next table over and the girl he keeps kissing on have to be twins, look at 'em. Gross. Hmm, they'd certainly face a lot of challenges in that department. Maybe he could dye his hair?
Eh, their faces would still look the same, though.
Plastic surgery?
Uhhh...maybe. He'd be the one to bite the bullet, though, because he didn't want Linka to change a thing - she was beautiful and perfect. Knowing her the way he did, she probably felt the same about him, so she'd fight him on it.
Quite the conundrum.
Lola and Lana were standing now, their snowman level with their chests, Lana patting down one side, the tip of her tongue plastered to her upper lip, and Lola smoothing out the other. The light, airy sound of their laughter was music to Lincoln's ears. Playing guidance counselor to his sisters got old as fuck sometimes, but in the end, it was worth it.
"Ow! You stupid bitch!"
He looked to his right; Luan lay on her back, her hand pressed to her forehead. Luna stood ten feet away, grinning. Looks like someone caught a snowball to the face. "Gotta be quicker next time, Chuckles," Luna said.
"Fuck you, ho," Luan said.
Lincoln sighed.
It's worth it, he told himself as he got up to go mediate.
Then Luan jumped up, grabbed some snow, packed it, and threw it at Luna, missing and hitting Lincoln in the face.
Alright, never mind, he thought as he turned back, they can deal with their own issues for once.