Edited version of "A Road to Disaster."

3: A Road to Disaster

However Rusty, Clyde and Zach weren't the only ones who wanted a mend in their friendship. Undoubtedly, their white-haired friend was also adamant to repair their relationship, and in turn, coped with untimely worry and unease. Presently, Lincoln and Birtz stand in the chilly spring breeze, planning to continue their conversation on the bus. Lincoln's distinct white hair blows madly in the wind, prompting him to awkwardly hold it down with his hand. He turns to Birtz, trying to avoid eye contact with other students. They're standing amid their class, clumped together in the parking lot of their school. Mr. Nicolas is coordinating the group.

"C'mon guys! If we want to get on the bus without causing a stampede, then you guys should form a single line... instead of allowing that to squeeze through the tiny door." Mr. Nicolas says, gesturing to the slim entrance. Ahead of them is a school bus, the distinct yellow paint shining bright in the morning sun. One could easily mistake this day for a hot summer morning if it weren't for the cold breezes. Mr. Nicolas, unsatisfied with his class' response, shakes his head in disapproval. The students had seemingly ignored his words, and tossed them aside as meaningless.

"LET'S GO!" bellows Mr. Nicolas, startling the students. Their teacher's sudden outburst encourages the kids to get moving, and they do their best to get in a single file. Lincoln and Birtz stick together, grabbing a spot near the back of the line—they preferred to stay away from the so-called 'good' seats. Students clash with one another, trying to find a spot in the queue—being near the front would reward you with a good spot on the bus. The Genetics Laboratory of Detroit was in a different city, a near 40 minute drive from their high school in Royal Woods; being stuck at a dreary spot would take away any fun in the ride. With this ideology, students practically battle to get close to the front, and you can tell through their silent exchange of words.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Careful."

"Sorry!"

"Let me in!"

Mr. Nicolas takes note once the class forms a semi-decent line and waves his arms to get everyone's attention. "Everyone, we're going to enter the bus now. Please choose your seat and don't get up to switch, otherwise you'll cause a traffic jam, and we don't need people to argue. So, come on in, and be respectful and polite." He steps aside, granting them access.

"Hoping for a seat in the front. I know those… guys will sit in the back." Birtz whispers in Lincoln's ear, referring to those notorious for bullying the weaker crowd, similar to the way a predator would search for its prey. His white-haired friend immediately understands his reference, and the first person which comes to Lincoln's mind is his intimidating bully, Arnold Sawyer. Lincoln leans in to whisper in Birtz' ear.

"Yeah, I totally understand what you're saying. And all too well..." replies Lincoln. The queue continues to move forward, and as they get closer to the bus, the sound of footwear slamming against the bus stairs becomes louder. It's not too long until Lincoln and Birtz climb onboard, and pass by the driver. Lincoln slips an awkward 'good morning' to him, to which he respectfully nods and smiles. He sits at the steering wheel wearing a Detroit Pistons cap, a black padded jacket, a yellow t-shirt and a pair of dark blue denim jeans. Lincoln and Birtz take a few seconds to choose a seat, even though the majority are taken. They select third row seats to the right, and Birtz steps aside to let his friend in first.

"Thanks for letting me get the window seat." Lincoln says, sitting down. Birtz shrugs and plops down next to his friend. "How'd you know I love looking out the window during a long trip?" Lincoln watches as a pompous grin stretches across Birtz' face.

"Because I'm sure someone like you would love awkwardly staring at other drivers and pedestrians." quips Birtz. In response to his friend's witty remark, Lincoln shakes his head with a small grin.

"Of course!" he jokingly says, getting a small chuckle from his friend. The bus suddenly jolts and the engine's stutters vibrate the floor. Lincoln stares at the surrounding buildings as the bus passes by their adjacent ones. The road is unpaved and plagued with cracks, making oncoming passengers subject to a bumpy ride.

"So… um… are… you… doing… anything this… weekend?" says Birtz, speaking through the bus's violent jolts and bumps. Lincoln pauses for a moment to think before giving his friend an answer.

"Hmm, probably... nothing. We... have the paper... due this... Friday, so I won't be working... on it during the... weekend!" Lincoln replies, voicing his frustration at the road's condition through that last word. The bus continues to violently rattle.

"Well, what... do you say we... go out to the... movies?" suggests Birtz. "Invite your... friends too?" The bus turns onto another road, and thankfully, unlike the last one, it doesn't suffer from poor maintenance. "That's if they even like me when I join them at the lunch table. Ugh, thank goodness we aren't on that street anymore, I think my breakfast is about to come up." Lincoln grins, evoked by his friend's last statement.

"You know, I would love that." Lincoln says, taking up on his friend's offer. "I haven't gone out to the movies in a while. To be honest, I don't think I've gone out in a while, maybe a few months or so." Birtz quirks a brow, questioning his friend. "Yeah, going out for leisure is definitely rare for me, especially since I haven't hung out with my friends in a while." Birtz nods his head. "To be honest with you, I prefer to spend most of my time in my room. Usually I'm there studying, writing comics, drawing, video games... you know, most of the stuff I usually do. In my house, we get absolutely no privacy, and, I think you can tell I put up with a lot of nonsense."

"Oh wow, I can imagine. I probably wouldn't even survive with one sibling, and you're over here living a life with ten sisters." says Birtz. "That's just legendary, an incredible feat in my book." Lincoln smiles at this statement. "Considering that you spend a lot of time drawing and writing comics, you could probably make some good money if you start a business. What do you think of that?" Lincoln shook his head at his friend's suggestion. "Oh? Why not?"

"It would be nice, but sometimes I just lack originality. I feel like I would end up ripping off popular comics. After all, I'm not that good at English either. My speech mannerisms suck, I'm always... overcomplicating things." Lincoln says. "By the way, thanks for that little compliment. I still wonder what it's like to be an only child, though I couldn't trade my sisters for the world. I'd love to hear your input."

"Not as nice as most people expect." Birtz says. "Too much alone time. Plus, my dad is single and has a lot of responsibilities. He owns a big company and stuff, it's a lot to manage. Being an only-child is probably a dream for most kids, but if they didn't have their siblings they'd probably do anything to get them back... Like most people say, you don't realize the importance of something until you lose it."

"Wow, I can only imagine. If I lost my sisters, I'd be completely lost. They practically help me survive! Losing them would be no different from losing my parents..." This statement seems to make Birtz frown. Lincoln fails to notice, and goes on to admire the nobility of his friend's father. "You know, considering your dad's quite the scientist, I'd love to learn a few things from him. Especially since he owns a huge company in that industry." Birtz perks back up, brushing off his brief moment of sorrow.

"I'm sure he'd love to give you some tips." Birtz assures, slapping his best friend's shoulder. "You guys have a lot in common, or at least by the looks of it. Maybe you could even get a job with him, who knows..."

"Maybe so, but if he were to offer me a job only because we're friends, I'd turn it down. Even though I've gotten pretty smart, I'm not sure if I'm ready for that level of commitment. Plus I'm still head and shoulders below my sister Lisa. She's won a few Nobel prizes and she's only eight-years-old." Lincoln says, boasting his sibling's accomplishments. "Ridiculous, right?"

"Dang, yeah it is! Sadly that's probably what my father expected of me… Unfortunately my brain is as dusty as that windowsill." jokes Birtz, gesturing to the window beside Lincoln. He reaches over and drags his finger along the sill, removing a thick layer of dust. He acknowledges the caked finger, which had become a dark shade of grey. "Pretty bad, and disgusting too."

"Dude, you're actually brilliant. Just because you aren't a science geek, it doesn't mean you're an absolute idiot." Lincoln says. "Also get that away from me, it's gross. I can't believe the bus is that dirty." Birtz wipes his finger on his pants to get rid of the dust.

"Yeah, I know I'm not a total failure. I was just kidding around." Birtz explains, examining his finger to make sure it was free from grime. "And yeah, the bus is that dirty. There's even some type of brown stain on the wall. Look beside you." Lincoln looks to the wall sharply, pushing himself a little from the wall. He collides with Birtz. "Ha! Made you look, idiot. I was just kidding."

"You better be." Lincoln warns, jokingly. He returns to the window. "You better watch it, because next time you make a joke like that I'll kill you." He puts an excessive amount of emphasis on 'kill' to clarify that he wasn't being serious. "I actually thought there was poop on the walls, even if you didn't explicitly state it. I guess I'm pretty stupid myself, eh?"

"Nah, you're the farthest thing from stupid. I'd do anything to be on your level. At least I'd be good enough to impress my dad." Birtz says, envious of his friend's skill at science. He can't help but imagine his father addressing Lincoln as the 'son he'd always wanted.' Those bitter words make Birtz all the more jealous. He wants to be that smart, but his father's high demand would undoubtedly be too much for him. After all, his father would probably use him as a trophy anyways. "Well, not really. I feel like he'd expect too much of me at that point."

"No, your dad is definitely proud of you already. He's just waiting to show you." assures Lincoln, patting Birtz on the back. That statement lights him up. "If your dad expects too much of you, or you feel that way, just let him know. What are you planning to get into anyways?"

"Hmm... maybe mechanical engineering?" Birtz says. "Haven't thought about it really, nor told anyone."

"That sounds so cool!" Lincoln exclaims. "This is a bit early, but you should design a machine that, when you miss your alarm, sprays ice-cold water on you. Would be perfect for some people." He hints towards certain people, though Birtz fails to understand. "Ah! You wouldn't get it. But imagine how much praise you'd get for that, it'd make an excellent prank for people who keep their alarm on. Ugh, those people are so annoying, if you don't want to get out of bed, you don't have to make others suffer... unless you live alone, that's a different story..."

"Yeah, I'm still waiting. I miss feeling victorious. You know, I miss that sweet taste of victory." Birtz says. "Speaking of sweet, that reminds me; want to stop at the ice-cream shop after school? The one just down the street, with the good dairy." He drawled the word 'good' to give it prominence. "It's better than that crappy stuff from the convenience store."

"Hmm… I'll think about it, I'm trying to save up my money for a new laptop. I would prefer to buy a computer tower but I don't really have the space for that. My room is the size of a linen closet." Birtz seems confused at that comparison. "-And it's not a comparison, my room used to be a linen closet. We had no space in the house, so that was the best course of action, considering that I'm a guy living with ten other girls."

"Ohhhh! That makes a lot more sense, I was actually concerned for a second. By the way, I can cover you, if you'd like." Birtz offers.

"No man, it's fine. Thank you nonetheless. Their ice cream is sooo expensive. It's the best I've ever had though... I'm just sayin' I'd feel pretty guilty if you were spending double the money on something that costly." He pats the outside of his pocket. "Your ol' wallet will be hurting after that. The money could probably go to something better."

"You say that like, there's something better than ice-cream... NOTHING, and I repeat, nothing... can beat ice-cream. It's worth every single penny, especially when you're talking about the good stuff." says Birtz. "And I have some money to blow, Lincoln. I'm practically rolling in the dough, right now. In others words, I'm rich!"

"You DON'T have to," says Lincoln. "I don't really need ice cream, it's the last thing I need right now. Why should I risk slipping into a coma?" They both giggle at Lincoln's smartassery. "We can just go together, but I won't buy anything. Stop trying to convince me, your attempts will all be in vain."

"Seriously...?" Birtz deadpans, his head drooping a bit.

"Yes!" Lincoln sternly says.

"Ugh... okay, well don't complain when you don't get anything." Birtz chuckles. "So, basically, you just wanna go for a walk after school? I won't cut the ice-cream part out of it though, I'm still adamant to get some. Plus, I'm not going home until I finish every last drop... Don't want my dad to get mad at me, again." Birtz rolls his eyes—he expects his dad to get mad at practically anything.

"That sounds great- I mean fine..." Lincoln says. "I have to notify my parents that I'm gonna walk home, with you, though. If I leave you out of the picture, they'd probably grow crazy suspicious... I hate walking home, so it'd be really unlike me to suddenly prefer that method of travel."

"I'm completely fine with that. What's your thoughts on the movies?" asks Birtz.

"I'd have to ask my parents about that one too... and possibly make some arrangements. It's not a short hangout, you know? We need to make sure our schedules are clear." He turns to Birtz. "What about you?

"Definitely can! My dad probably won't even care, he'd just be glad to get me out of his sight." Lincoln gives Birtz a weird look in response to his statement. "HEH! Just kidding." He tries to shift the topic, fearing the discussion it could lead to. "Want to check in with your friends to see if they could join us, like through a text message? You have your phone on yah, right? Unless you're a weirdo."

"Uh, sure? I don't think there are any restrictions against using your phone on the bus." Lincoln falters.

The Loud boy reaches for his phone, buried deep inside the pocket of his joggers. After shuffling through his pocket's contents, he pulls out his mobile phone and clutches it with his right hand. It shines with a vibrant blue case that's equipped with a foldable stand. Birtz leans forward to hide the device as a precaution. Mr. Nicolas had previously instructed the students to shut off any devices in advance, not clarifying whether they could use them before entering the building.

"You know, I could just talk to them at lunch." Lincoln attempts to reason with his friend. "I don't wanna risk losing my phone for eternity, or going through the embarrassment from getting it confiscated..."

"Well, leaving a text is fine. Just in case they forget, or we don't get back in time for lunch… Just do it anyways, I'm impatient!" Birtz says, nudging his friend's shoulder.

"Fine..." Lincoln groans. "If my phone gets taken away, it's your fault, you daredevil."

Lincoln switches his phone on and unlocks it. He swipes through a few pages of applications until finding his messaging tool. Inside, a group chat with the entire gang sits in the midst of his other conversations.

Lincoln texts, "Hi everyone. I'm wondering if you guys would be interested in going to the movies. Me and Birtz are thinking of going and we'd love it if you guys can come. Birtz really wants to know you guys better, plus it's been a while since our last hangout. Say…. this Saturday? I'll try and work things out with my parents." After sending out the message, the screen goes black—Lincoln cut the power to his phone. He covertly slips his phone back into the confines of his pocket.

"There! I did it." Lincoln drawls, turning to the window. "Satisfied?"

"Very. Now, we just need to hope they say yes." Birtz says.

"And that I can even go in the first place." The white-haired boy adds.

"Right..." Birtz says. Silence grows among the two. There's no eye contact, not even a single hint of interaction. After a few good minutes, the brown-haired boy builds the confidence to ask Lincoln a question that's bugged him since the discovery of his friend-related issues. "Lincoln... I have a quick question for you." Lincoln perks his head up, and turns to his friend.

"Yes? Ask away."

"If you even know, what do your friends really think about me?"

"Well, I'm going to be honest with you..." says Lincoln. There's no easy way to answer this question. Lincoln does have an idea of his friends' perception on Birtz. However, it wouldn't be the best thing to hear, and if he's wrong, future plans would go south. He didn't want to give Birtz an ill-image of his friends, but Lincoln couldn't help but suspect the worst. He sighs. "I'm not entirely sure. But I'm afraid they think I'm replacing them, or something along those lines—though I hope I'm wrong."

"Geez..." pipes Birtz. "Honestly, that sounds terrible... I guess if we all started hanging out together, the problem would be solved. So maybe we are doing the right thing by giving them an invitation."

"Well, if that's the case, why didn't they just approach us first?" queries Lincoln.

"Everyone's different, Lincoln." clarifies Birtz. "They were probably waiting for you to introduce me."

"Yeah, I guess that's sort of our fault." says Lincoln.

"Eh, who knows. I really hope that you solve these problems and I can get along with those guys." says Birtz. He looks down, fidgeting. "This has become the most important thing now, aside from our paper due this week."

"Let's just hope things go in the right direction…"

Elsewhere, Rusty, Zach and Clyde have been put to work. They were just assigned a new group project, in which everyone at their table must participate in. Luckily for the trio, this gave them the opportunity to collaborate without the awkwardness of speaking to random classmates. Their project demanded watercolor portraits of themselves, or a rendition. They were to be presented on a board, and hung up on a free spot on the wall for the rest of the year. The three adolescents had planned to meet up on Saturday to further work on the project, assuming they wouldn't be able to finish during work periods. As of now, the three were wasting their time—chatting on unrelated topics—rather than using it to their advantage.

Clyde, the perfectionist teen, chooses to spice up the conversation. "Hey Rusty!" His orange-haired friend meets his gaze. "I have some advice for you: please don't over-exaggerate your looks like you do with most portraits...because you're not the hot stuff you think you are." he mocks. "I feel like you should draw yourself as a clown! And, in the rare case you don't make yourself look like an '80s supermodel, your portrait would look like..." He takes a brief moment to think about his next sentence. "...a Twister mat!" Rusty tilts his head, confused, and Clyde rolls his eyes in response. "It means you got a lot of acne, you donut." They all laugh.

Once the laughter subsides, Rusty decides to take a shot at his friend. "Okay... well Clyde, you should draw yourself with an excellence award for every subject, except physical education." Clyde shrugs, but Zach chortles a bit. "It would make sense, considering you're built like a flagpole, and also the weakest person in the whole school." Zach starts to guffaw at his friend's remark, while Clyde uses his best efforts to keep a straight face. "And you suck at making a good comeback, too."

"You made a good point Rusty," Zach says. "Clyde is a pretty big nerd. I think he rubbed off on Lincoln." He refers to Lincoln's new passion in science. "Personally, I would draw myself with gold and silver hair, shaved down the middle and a tattooed mustache." The boys immediately understood their friend's reference—there was a time when they attended a friend's pool party, and it ended in catastrophe. In response, Clyde facepalms.

"My gosh!" Clyde chuckles, shielding his face from view. "There was no need to remind us of that hideous party." He recalls being publicly humiliated, in the spotlight with cameras flashing everywhere, stripped down to nothing but his underwear. Snickers were ubiquitous. "I wish I could wipe that memory... at least kids haven't mentioned it in a while. Otherwise, I don't know if I'd still be living here."

"Don't worry Clyde, I remember that incident clearly." Rusty says, thinking of their embarrassing time at the pool party from a couple years ago. "If anybody tries to resurface those old photos of us, they'll get a taste of a knuckle sandwich." He practically slams his head against the table. "Ugh! Why do the most embarrassing memories have to be as clear as day?!"

"Couldn't agree more dude… I basically went bald that day, Lincoln and Clyde were shamed in nothing but their underwear..." Zach practically cringes at their predicament. "-and your face was very swollen." Rusty shakes his head to that statement. "Yep, your lips were big like fresh Kielbasa." Clyde laughs at his comparison. "Not to mention that photos of us were posted to the internet when the incident first happened."

"True, and what's scary is that those very images are probably still up there. Hopefully nobody will recognize that as us." Clyde says. "We can only hope, guys. We can only hope..." Zach awkwardly turns away.

"Well, it already blew over! Can we just talk about something else?!" Zach asks. He shifts back to the group, and slams his fist on the table. "If we keep talking about that mess, someone's gonna overhear and surf the internet for those photos!" The others nod their head.

"With pleasure! Just talking about it makes me sick to my stomach!" Clyde says.

Before the three can ramble on any further, their phones buzz in their pocket, and the familiar sound of a cowbell interrupts their conversation. They recognize the cowbell as the notification sound for when someone messaged their gang's group chat. They're all surprised—nobody has messaged the conversation in months, so there was no reason to randomly text, especially during school hours.

"Sounds like someone's messaging the group chat." Zach acknowledges. "I know that sound when I hear it, especially when we aren't stuck at Liam's farm." He rolls his eyes. "Ugh, that kid's so annoying. Back to the point, why is someone even messaging the chat?! Don't they know we're stuck doing work?! …Actually nevermind that, we haven't been working on the project at all."

"Seriously?!" Rusty bleats, throwing his friends off guard. "Who has the time to message that group chat in the middle of class?"

"Definitely not one of us." Clyde states. "Well of course it's not, unless one of you is that sneaky. Plus, the other two...kiddos have classes that don't give them any flexibility. So it's probably... Lincoln." He feels a bit hopeful after uttering his friend's name.

"Oh yeah, cause he has a field trip." Zach says. "What a lucky dude. He's basically left us, made friends with some good-looking dude, and gets to go out on a field trip." Clyde gives him a strong glare. "Whatever. Learn to grow a spine, you baby."

"You know what? If it's Lincoln, I'm definitely checking it out." discloses Rusty. "I'd love to hear from that guy again. It's been maybe a few weeks since we've last talked." Rusty shuffles through his pocket and grabs his phone. The light from the screen shines onto his face. Clyde, not wanting his friend's phone to get confiscated, gives him some noteworthy advice.

"Make sure to hide it under the table, so the teacher doesn't see." Clyde coaches, but Rusty basically waves him off.

"Yeah, I know. I know."

The text message shows up in the notifications bar, giving Rusty the ability to read the text without unlocking his phone. Rusty scans through the message. It's from Lincoln, confirming their suspicions, and the white-haired boy is seemingly inviting them to a trip to the movies.

"Lincoln's inviting us to go to the movies. He's going to bring Birtz along, apparently. They want to go this Saturday." Rusty informs them. "Sound pretty sick, I'd totally be down for it."

"Aren't we supposed to work on the project Saturday?" Zach asks, making Clyde frown a little.

"Yeah…" Clyde says. He doesn't want to give up, though, and is adamant to spend time with his best friend. "But, why don't we just work around it? This project is due next Wednesday. Instead of skipping the outing, how about we work on the project beforehand then go to the movies? Or, we can just work on the project another day. I mean, we have more than a week to get this done. So, what do you guys think?" To the other guys, it's evident that Clyde is looking to repair any rips in the chance that he gets to meet his old pal at the movies. Though this would be quite a simple problem to solve, future hiccups would still be fixable. Cluttered schedules were a notorious culprit for the ruination of hangouts, and this was a prime example.

"Hmm, that sounds good to me." Zach confirms. He turns to his orange-haired friend beside him. "How about you, Rust?"

"Oh, I'm totally fine with it." Rusty says. "I already said that I'm down for it, you deaf-"

"Shut up, just tell him we can go." Clyde interrupts. "Don't start an argument, just text him quickly. Then, we'll get back to business, instead of wasting our time talking about random garbage." He gestures to Rusty. "Do it."

Rusty unlocks his phone and clicks on the notification. It opens the gang's group chat, highlighting Lincoln's previous message. He starts to compose a message for his friend. "Hey Lincoln, it'd be cool to finally hang out with you guys. So we're totally up for it. I'm speaking on behalf of Clyde and Zach." Rusty sends the text message, but his heart sinks as he feels a hand wrap around his phone. It was none of his friends' hands, but the teacher's hand. He immediately knows he's screwed.

"That's unacceptable, Rusty. Texting during class?" their art teacher scolds, taking his phone away from him. "By the way, you boys have been doing nothing but talking. Focus on getting your work done. Maybe you won't be complaining about homework, in that case." The boys look down in shame. "Get to work, I won't hesitate to come back if you don't." She points to Rusty. "As for you, meet me after class if you want your phone back."

"Shoot!" Rusty complains. The rest of the class have their eyes set on the three boys, where the latter had just made a big fuss. He still has his fingers bent, as if he's holding an invisible phone. The boy slowly straightens out his hand, returning it to the wooden tabletop. Clyde starts laughing.

"What can I say? You didn't listen to my advice!"