Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino
LolaPresent: Tron, long before I began writing, I spent a lot of time doing post-by-post roleplay with friends. That's how I got my start. Turning a post-by-post roleplay into a story has been exciting and challenging! I even learned I had a grammar rule backward. Another thing to consider is how quickly my past stories digress into explicit sex, which was unrealistic. We intend to keep the progression natural, and having a second author helps in that regard! We apologize for the time between chapters. It takes a lot of planning and execution, not to mention putting all the posts into a draft, editing it, and doing a final review. We have a lot in store for Lincoln and Lola, and we hope you enjoy what's to come!
FicAlthusserist: Well here it is, chapter 2, who would have thought that chapter 1 would be followed by chapter 2 huh? What a twist! Move over M. Night Shyamalan! Not much to say on this chapter really, overall I'm very happy with it even if it was a lot harder with edit with Lola Presents. With the first chapter behind us that was a lot more free flowing, this one was more focused with a clearer direction in mind as to where the story is going. We hope it will not suffer for it.
Secrets of the Heart
Cowritten by LolaPresent and FicAlthusserist
Chapter 1
It was the Wednesday immediately following Lincoln's and Lola's weekend excursion to Gus' Games and Grub, and while tensions remained, they had lessened dramatically. For the next several days, Lincoln and Lola both seemed to avoid close contact with each other. Neither made a formal decision to do so. However, their unconscious minds began steering them in opposite directions.
Most people are born with an innate sense of disgust at the notion of sibling intimacy and romance. But it does happen on occasion. Despite Lola being a child, inexperienced, and a few years away from pubertal awakening, she did understand the idea of having a crush. And, for her, Lincoln's recent attention bordered on the uncomfortable, as sweet as he had been. As for Lincoln? Lola had no clue and didn't dare ask.
Typically, the elementary kids would get dismissed first, followed by the middle schoolers, and finally, the high school students. The release schedule intended to keep the high schoolers off the road until the younger students got home safely.
And, as Lincoln's bus drove down Franklin Street toward his stop, the family van pulled out of the driveway, passing the big yellow vehicle. Though Lincoln had not been paying too close attention, he managed to spy Leni at the helm. Who else might have been present or where they would be heading eluded him.
Moths get drawn to flames, and biologists disagree on the reason. Some believe the light confuses them, others that light frequencies resemble those emitted by the sex pheromones of female moths. The two explanations were strangely appropriate to describe Lincoln's mental state towards Lola.
While some might have assumed after his unwanted and yet sexually overwhelming masturbation session a few days ago, where images of Lola's practically naked body filled his mind, Lincoln would have done everything he could to put as much distance between himself and his sister as possible, that was not the case.
He had felt uncomfortable, but Lincoln's mind was firmly committed to rejecting reading into any deeper meaning behind it. It was a matter of psychological self-preservation. His very sense of identity was on the line. Lola was not just his sister. She was only nine years old.
Had the incident involved one of his older sisters, Lincoln could have allowed himself to admit that he had the beginnings of some immature crush on them. Embarrassing? Probably. Weird? Definitely. But the boy could have handled it, except it was most likely because he saw qualities in them he would find appealing in other girls.
But Lola? No.
What did that say about him? What physical qualities about her prepubescent body was he getting drawn to? He was only fourteen, still a child himself, but the difference, sexually speaking, between girls around his age and Lola felt like some vast ocean where he could not see the shore on the other side. The word pedophile hovered at the periphery of Lincoln's subconscious like a floater at the corner of your eye that would move if you tried to look at it.
It was a truth Lincoln could not face, yet the awkwardness was still there, whispering in his ear to consider the word and its implications.
He needed to clear his head. That much was clear.
Heading inside, Lincoln rejected an invitation from Lynn to join him on the couch for wrestling with a polite excuse as he bounded up the stairs two at a time and went into his bedroom. With a smile, he grabbed his phone off his small desk before rolling onto his bed and calling his friend.
"Clyde?" Lincoln asked into his phone once the boy answered.
"Hey, buddy!" barked Clyde as he began pacing. "What's your E.T.A.?" he quickly added. "Stella and I got off at Flip's. So we're just waiting on you."
Lincoln and Clyde had been friends since they were six years old. Stella had only come into their lives a few years ago. However, it didn't take long before Lincoln and his male cohorts began salivating over her and tripping over their feet. The entire affair almost cost them their friendship. But, in the end, they settled things, declaring her off-limits.
Since then, they'd made many more memories together, the least of which was forming the middle school news team. And Stella was already thinking about next week's story. She'd tried to reach Lincoln several times over the past few days, but he'd been too occupied to respond to her texts. Now, she intended to find out why.
"Hey, Lincoln!" shouted the Filipino girl from a few feet away just before Clyde released the button. "Hurry up!"
The sun was already beating down on the two kids as they loitered outside Flip's Food and Fuel. It wouldn't be long before the cantankerous older man shooed them off the premises. That is unless they bought something. Ever the one for profit, he let them stay long enough for passersby to see them with his products in hand. But that wouldn't last long.
"Cool your jets," Lincoln answered. "I just got in. I only need to grab my wallet. I'll be with you in five minutes."
Ending the call, he grabbed his stuff and headed straight out. Honestly, he was frustrated to be the only one still stuck taking the bus to and from school. It felt like he was living in a separate time zone from them now, always twenty minutes behind.
Lincoln didn't take long to cross the few blocks to Flip's Food and Fuel. However, Rusy, Liam, and Zach couldn't make it, having other plans. After grabbing some Flippees, they would head to the mall to pick up some comics and see where the afternoon took them.
Stella was an avid reader of comics, too. It's just that her tastes leaned more toward manga than the Western superheroes Lincoln and Clyde craved. For the longest time, Lincoln had resisted jumping ship to manga as many people were doing. Lincoln didn't follow the messy politics around the comic book industry, but he knew enough as a fan that the writing in Ace Savvy had lacked something for a while now.
Still, when Stella would mock his comics, saying they were more interested in cringe melodrama than exciting fights and action, he would fire right back at her that at least his publications had interesting characters compared to the genetic cut-and-paste protagonists in so much of the manga series she read.
Nah. Lincoln was sticking with Ace Savvy. It was his hill to die on if he chose!
Stepping into the parking lot, Lincoln saw his two friends hanging out. Clyde was on his skateboard, dressed in a comical amount of protection thanks to his Dads. In addition to wearing the typical helmet and pads his fathers insisted upon, he had a couple of pillows tied to his front and back. Lincoln would have said his Dads were going too far, that is, if he'd not just witnessed Clyde face-planting into the asphalt, having tried to grind down the rail by the entrance.
Stella attempted to contain her laughter at Clyde's antics. Pressing one hand against her mouth, she struggled as her knees came together under her, making it difficult to maintain balance.
"Clyde," she chuckled. "Just because you have safety equipment doesn't mean you're suddenly going to know how to skateboard."
"Yeah, well..." countered the boy as he stood and dusted himself off. "One doesn't know until they try. Do they?"
If that wasn't the perfect moment for Lincoln to make his approach, no other time would be. Had Clyde tried anything more dangerous, they might've had to call the day off, replacing it with a trip to the emergency room. Instead, the two friends turned and greeted their companion.
"Hey, Lincoln," chirped Stella with a fair amount of enthusiasm and grace. "Ready to go?" she asked, handing him a Flippee she'd purchased.
"Hang on..." interjected Clyde, unstrapping the pillows and stuffing them into his backpack. "I love my dads, but there's no way I'm wearing these ridiculous things to the mall.
"Hey guys," Lincoln said by way of a casual greeting. "So Clyde, you think this month's issue will be 'ace?'" Lincoln added, grinning.
"Maybe, Lincoln," Clyde said, smiling back at his friend, "Maybe they will 'shuffle' the characters around?"
"Depends on how they 'cut' it," Lincoln quipped back.
"Ugh, seriously, guys?" Stella interjected, "You make these same lame card puns every time we go to the comic store. Get some fresh material already."
"Oh?" Lincoln said, somewhat amused by her mild annoyance. "I suppose you want us to make puns based on the mangas you read?"
"Not possible," Clyde said, joining in. "For puns, you need an actual plot, not twenty pages of characters screaming alongside punching and kicking sound effects."
"And that's when they're not just standing there charging their attacks. Boring!" Lincoln said, rubbing salt in the wound.
"Manga is more than that!" spat Stella for the millionth time, growing tired of the same old conversation. "At least the characters in mangas display growth through training. They didn't get born with power, you know. And besides, what about all the side plots, like romance? You seldom see that in your superhero books. It's nothing but fights. Anyway..." she said with mild exasperation. "What've you been doing, Lincoln," she asked, securing her purse on her shoulder. "I tried texting you over the past few days and got no response. I know you saw them because they got marked as read."
"Oh, come on," barked Clyde, jumping to his friend's defense as they trekked down the sidewalk. "You know how many sisters he has. He doesn't get much time at all outside the house. I say you count your blessings."
"I guess..." murmured the Filipino. "Still, would it kill you, Lincoln, to tell me you are busy so I don't feel ignored?"
"Well," said Lincoln, uncomfortable about being put on the spot like that. "It's not like I was singling you out or anything," Lincoln said defensively. "As Clyde said, I get roped into stuff with my sisters, and sometimes I just don't have time. I didn't message Clyde, Zach, Liam, or Rusty either, and I don't see them getting on my case. Was there something important you wanted to chat with me about?"
Unnoticed by the two boys, the faintest blush appeared on Stella's cheeks before she turned away.
"Not particularly," she said. "Only don't ignore me, okay? It's not cool."
Clyde eyed the girl suspiciously. She'd been rambling about next week's story for their newscast for the last fifteen minutes. Indeed, she wouldn't let that drop, just as Lincoln showed up. Nevertheless, maybe now wasn't the best time. They had a bit of a walk before them and couldn't afford any distractions unless they wanted to wander into traffic and get mowed down by a passing vehicle.
"Dang, it.." thought Clyde as he looked both ways. "My dads are rubbing off on me."
"So!" chirped Stella, eager to change the subject. "Where are we headed first? The comic outlet, the arcade, or the food court?"
Clyde may have known Lincoln longer, But Stella knew him well enough to know he'd never disregard his friends. He always went out of his way to schedule and do things with them. Communication was one of his strong suits. It didn't seem like him to avoid them, but that's what it felt like.
"I can't wait to read the next installment of Shogun Battle Maidens," she offered as a second topic for discussion. "Akane just discovered her boyfriend, Hiroto, had been in league with the enemy all along."
As much as he tried to brush off Stella's probing, even slightly gaslighting her into thinking she was the one with the problem, Lincoln knew she had every right to question his recent behavior. How long would it have taken to fire off a few words saying he was busy? Seconds. He'd not technically been lying, though. He had been busy sorting out any help his sister might have needed.
Before his belated messages yesterday, Lincoln had been A.W.O.L. to make plans because he didn't trust himself not to let something slip. He'd have tried to get one of his friend's advice on the situation, being vague and mysterious at first, but eventually, whoever it was would have dragged out all the sordid details from him.
He could not trust any of them, even Clyde. They would all think he was a freak, a monster, and they would not understand that it was just his hormones playing up. He didn't feel that way about Lola. What he needed instead was a girlfriend.
A stabbing pain shot through Lincoln, and he felt nauseous. He needed a girlfriend to stop him from having confusing thoughts about his shockingly underaged sister, didn't he? God, he was a piece of shit. His parents and older sisters raised him better than that.
He should want a girlfriend because it would be fun to have someone to spend time with, to experience a different kind of close bond than he has with his friends and family. After all, it would be wonderful to have someone in his life who would both love making each other happy.
Lincoln tried to focus on Stella, rambling about one of the manga series she was following, but his heart was just not in it.
Though Lincoln lost himself in his inner world and had forgone answering Stella's inquiry, the girl took his silence as an awkward acknowledgment of her fears. Lincoln was going through something he didn't care to speak about, which got her attention.
Usually, he was all about involving his friends in solving any problems. However, as anxious and curious as she was, Stella had to respect his privacy. Maybe, the family was going through a difficult time. Who was she to interject advice when she knew so little?
Regardless, the troubled youth made a mental note to ask Clyde about it later. He and Lincoln had been friends a lot longer. Maybe he had some insight. If not, Clyde might be able to get it. Indeed, as nervous and twitchy as the boy was, he'd have sensed something was up. Wouldn't he? The boy almost fell apart when Lincoln decided it might be a good idea to be spontaneous and different.
Stowing her thoughts away, Stella trod beside them as they made their way to the mall. It was always a lot of fun shopping and playing games with them, then treating themselves with their leftover money afterward. Still, something palpable yet undefined hung in the air. Lincoln was there, but he wasn't present. It seemed like he was on autopilot or going through the motions. Maybe, once they began their activities, he'd let something slip, giving her and Clyde some clue about what bothered him.
"Well..." sighed Stella, opening the large glass door. "We're here. So, I have to ask again, where are we going first?"
"The comic store!" Lincoln roared, trying to inject some excitement into his voice.
"Are you sure, Lincoln?" Clyde challenged him, "I don't fancy carrying my comics around for a few hours trying not to get them all bent out of shape."
"Well," Stella began smugly, "My mangas are in trade paperback, but I guess we have to watch out for your flimsily little comic books."
"Good point," said Lincoln, "How about we hit one of the trendy clothes stores first? Then, I need to buy a suit."
"A suit?" Clyde and Stella said in unison before looking at each other and saying, "Jinx!" followed by a giggle.
"I'll have you know," Lincoln began, regaining some of his former swagger as he pushed the dark thoughts away, "I've been invited to a fancy party only the most high-class people will be attending at the Twelfth Gardens Estate."
In the minimal, somewhat awkward interactions he had with Lola over the last few days, the topic of Winston's party had come up. Lola had informed him that Winston lived at a massive mansion in the Twelfth Garden's gated community, where only the most wealthy elites lived.
"A party?!" gasped Stella, her mouth hanging open slightly, putting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight. "Why didn't you tell us? And, who do you know that lives in the Gardens?"
"Yeah, buddy," added Clyde, slightly annoyed and worried his friend was expanding his horizons. "You aren't holding out on us. Are you?"
The truth was, as happy as they were for Lincoln, Clyde, and Stella were both concerned, not to mention a little jealous. The Twelfth Gardens was a high-class area across town. Someone in their neighborhood getting invited to a party meant one of two things. Either they were being set up for a prank or having a secret yet romantic affair that crossed class boundaries. Either was a hotbed for trouble.
"Spill it, noodle-arms," Stella calmly yet sternly demanded as they entered the clothing store.
"What can I say?" Lincoln said, basking in the attention. "Some wealthy kids have noticed I have class."
At that, Lincoln pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. Since the weekend, when he had worn them when he went out with Lola, he had always kept them on him. Putting them on, he attempted to mimic the C.S.I. Miami meme featuring Lt. Horatio putting on his glasses and screaming "YEEEAAAHHH," followed by Lincoln posing dramatically.
"Hahaha!" laughed Stella, holding her side to keep them from splitting. "Who do you think you are?" she inquired, still chuckling. "Jim Carrey?"
But despite her outward joviality, Stella was more than a bit hurt. By claiming he had class enough to get invited to an upper-class party, Lincoln insinuated she and Clyde did not. But rather than confront him publicly, she resigned herself to asking him about it at school the following day. For now, he needed a suit.
"Come on, stud..." she sighed, pulling him toward the men's formal clothing department.
Likewise, Clyde was just as concerned. It wasn't like Lincoln to keep something so monumental from him. And his insecurities began to set in.
"This..." he stammered. "This isn't going to become an ongoing thing. Is it?" Clyde tentatively asked, stuffing his hand in his pockets. "Why do you need a new suit just to go to a party, anyway?"
"Isn't it obvious, dumbo?" barked Stella, vying for the best possible outcome. "He's got a girlfriend he doesn't want us to know about! And a rich one, to boot! Isn't that exciting?" she squealed as she pulled.
Stella's words prompted a vision of Lola going to the party with him as his girlfriend, hanging on his arm the whole time, batting her eyelashes at him, and coaxing him to dance to the music.
"It's not like that!" Lincoln snapped, freaked out by the images in his mind and how he liked them.
Stella and Clyde stared at him. The shock and concern from his outburst were plain to see. Lincoln realized he had to defuse the situation right now, or they would ask some problematic questions. It occurred to Lincoln that he could do just that by telling them the truth. Not the whole truth, of course, but part of it. The details he'd carefully leave out. Though, they would fill in and make different assumptions, regardless.
"Sorry," Lincoln said, "Look, it's not me that's invited to the party, okay, but Lola. One of the wealthy friends she knows through the pageant circuit invited her. I'm sure he invited me along too because he was worried she'd not go if left alone with kids she didn't know."
Lincoln paused a moment to let his words sink in.
"Stella, I know you were just yanking my chain, and normally that's okay. It's all in good fun, but she's my sister," he said. "It's not like you knew, so I'm not angry at you. It just made me feel sick, and it set me off."
The last part sounded utterly genuine because, in a twisted way, it was. Lincoln had channeled all his disgust towards himself in that moment into his words. Anyone listening would assume it was only him voicing his disgust at the implication.
"Oh..." sighed the embarrassed girl as she rubbed one arm. "Sorry. I didn't mean to assume," she assured him. Then, turning more serious, she let him in on her doubts. "I just get nervous in these situations. You've seen the movies. Whenever someone from high society invites someone from our neck of the woods to a party, it always ends badly," she reminded him. "I just don't want you to get hurt."
"She's right, buddy," agreed Lincoln's best friend. "Though, I think if it's just kids, it shouldn't be a problem," he said, following Stella's admission with a counter. "Still, why didn't you tell us from the beginning?"
Stella was already leafing through the racks by then, holding various blazers and slacks against Lincoln's frame.
"Here, she said. "Try these on. I like the eggshell white one and the sky blue one. But I need to see how they look on you."
While Lincoln's partial admission had defused the tension somewhat, they were both right, there was still the unanswered question as to why he didn't tell them hanging over them, and he needed to give them an answer. The problem was he couldn't think of any.
It's not like Lincoln could fain embarrassment about accompanying his little sister to a party for younger children. If that was the case, why did he brazenly announce to them both that he was going when the full details would inevitably come out?
His only option, as bad as it was, would be to pretend he didn't hear it, hope they don't press the issue, and soon forget about it.
"Thanks, Stella!" Lincoln said excitedly, taking the items from her. "I'm gonna go find a shirt to match and try everything on."
Lincoln left his two friends, doing his best to walk quickly but not enough to look suspicious. Still, Stella folded her arms and studied Lincoln as he wandered off, shaking her head.
"I don't know, Clyde..." she muttered, low enough that Lincoln wouldn't hear. "Something's off. He seemed happy about going but tried to hide it from us. What do you think?"
Clyde studied his best friend from a distance as he picked out a few different formal dress shirts. Lincoln was his brother from another mother, a saying that was not entirely appropriate given he was adopted and could not even remember his mother, just a few burly memories of crying a lot and being very hungry all the time. He knew when Lincoln was hiding something.
"Yeah. Something's up," Clyde said evenly. "I don't think it's about us, though. He seems scared of something. He might be in trouble. And whatever it is, he's certain we can't help him."
Stella was more concerned than ever. It wasn't like Lincoln to keep things from them. Likewise, it wasn't like them to pry either. Sure, they tried on occasion, though not to a severe degree. They all did. Kids were busybodies, not to mention self-conscious. Whenever something seemed off, everyone thought it was about them, not the person acting strangely.
What confused Stella the most was why being around kids would unnerve Lincoln. He had more than enough siblings to have cured him of that. So, if that wasn't it, something else was wrong. Was it the particular company he'd be in? Was he afraid of embarrassing Lola?
"Listen, Clyde," muttered Stella, standing beside him with her arms folded. "For now, let's let it go. But keep your ears open. You never know. He might unintentionally drop a clue as to what's going on."
After Lincoln selected and purchased an ensemble, they still had several more stops to make, including the comic store and the food court. Maybe during one of those visits, they could each get Lincoln alone to see if he'd open up to one of them. Clyde was his best friend, and Lincoln might be more comfortable talking with him alone. Then again, if it involved matters of the heart, Stella was the person to talk to. Either way, they stood watch until Lincoln returned from the dressing room.
"Is the top hat too much?" Lincoln wondered, staring at his reflection in the changing room.
The truth was he was feeling very self-conscious about his socioeconomic standing. His father owned a restaurant, and the family had a second income from his mother, not to mention the additional money from Luna's blossoming music career. Then there were Lola's recent series of commercials.
If his parents only had the more traditional two-child family, they would be comfortably middle-class. As it stood, with so many mouths to feed, the strain on their finances pushed them down into a more working-class family. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, as far as Lincoln was concerned, but the more he thought about the upcoming party, the more it weighed on his mind. While Lola's fame seemed to be a counter-balance to her lower-class background, that would not apply to Lincoln himself.
It's not that Lincoln particularly cared about the prospect of being looked down upon by some of Winston's snooty friends at the party. Instead, he was worried some of them would take on Lola instead. He and Lola were unusually close, more than two siblings should be. Lincoln knew that. However, despite not reading anything more into it, he feared Lola's fascination with the lifestyle of the rich and famous would eventually cause them to drift apart. The magazines and online articles his sister read about the celebrities she worshipped, showing off their lavish lives of luxury, served as altars, and transformed them into holy scripture.
Lincoln was worried that even if it seemed from their encounter the other day that Lola held no particular interest in Winston, she might be charmed by some other rich boy her age. Thoughts of her batting her eyelashes at this hypothetical boy, laughing as she got influenced by him, made him feel so uneasy. He told himself it was because if Lola got a new crush or boyfriend, she'd want to spend more time with them than him. There was no other reason.
Again Lincoln looked at his reflection.
Along with the top hat was a dark blue waistcoat over a white dress shirt and the pants Stella had kindly picked out for him. He looked and felt like a fraud. Still, Lincoln thought, sometimes you had to fake it to make it. It was time to see if he could pull it off. Stepping out from behind the curtain, he called Stella and Clyde over to look at his threads, trusting them to give an honest opinion. As soon as Lincoln emerged, Stella couldn't help but snicker.
"Well..." she said, trying to sound apologetic. "You look like a used car salesman trying to look classy. I suggest matching pants and a blazer with a dark navy blue shirt. Skip the tie and hat. You want to look nice but not too bold. The white would go well with your hair and juxtapose your usual bold orange."
As for Clyde, the nervous boy couldn't help but worry. Lincoln had only gotten dressed up a few times. Typically, he used his old light blue suit. That Lincoln was going out of his way to buy something new irritated Clyde. After all, Lincoln had tried being spontaneous before, changing his style daily for a week, and Clyde thought he was losing his friend. But now, it was even worse. Lincoln was changing for a bunch of kids he didn't even know! He might not have felt so put upon if Lincoln had done something similar on his last birthday. But, as it was, he hadn't.
"I don't get it, Lincoln," Clyde announced, despite the agreement to leave things be. "What's so important about this party that you'd go to all this trouble? Do you want them to like you? Or is there another reason? Look..." he said as an afterthought. "I'm not saying don't do it. But, it would help if we knew why."
Nobody liked to get put on the spot, including Lincoln. He wished he could answer them honestly and tell them about his worry that another boy would get between him and his little sister, but he knew how that would sound. They wouldn't get it. While they were both going through the same changes Lincoln was, with their hormones flaring up, questioning the future, and adulthood no longer an unimaginable dream beyond the horizon but something real and tangible, they did not have a rock like Lola to center them, to make all that confusion and anxiety float away.
Before the other day, when they went on their 'date,' Lincoln had been living so much in the future he felt alienated from the present. It was like he saw himself as this half-formed thing, too old to be a child, too young to be an adult. But now, things were so much more straightforward. He liked who he was, mainly because Lola's love for him as his sister helped him see that. Having her taken away from him now would be scary.
Lincoln averted his eyes from his friends, "I just want to look nice, okay?" He said in a tone that was so unconvincing it surprised the young boy. Lincoln was not a manipulator like Lola could be at her worst, and he felt innately uncomfortable with lying, but his showmanship skills would typically be able to mask that. It was a testament to how worked up he had gotten that he was failing so miserably.
"Anyway, thanks for the advice, Stella. I'll get those in my size, and we can head off." With that, Lincoln turned toward the racks.
"Well..." sighed Stella, taking the conversation from Clyde. "I had another idea in mind, but..." she sighed again, biting her lip as she appraised him again. "Nevermind. They'll all be too young for you anyway," she finished, keeping her reasoning to herself.
"I see," responded Clyde, trying to understand and support his friend. "I guess you should try on the changes. We'll wait here," he told him.
While Clyde did everything he could to clear his mind, Stella's was brimming. There was no way Lincoln was dressing up for a bunch of kids, especially if he was only escorting Lola. Most likely, he'd get ignored, despite the invitation. No, there was someone there he was trying to impress. Maybe the child of a comic manufacturer or something. Then again, it might just be someone he had feelings for, assuming they were also an older sibling of one of the guests. She sorely wanted to change her advice on Lincoln's outfit, but it would seem too out of place and full of insinuation had she done so without proper provocation from Lincoln.
Clyde just wanted this part of their outing over. He was never great in social settings, especially with those he didn't know. It was different with Lincoln and his family. But, in public, or social gatherings, he usually fell apart. He still had difficulty talking to Lori, even after he moved on from his immature crush on her and embraced the friendship she offered him. It had been two years since she left for college, only seeing her when she returned for the occasional visit. He missed her a lot. He truly wanted Lincoln to have a good time at the party, but knowing he wouldn't be there to enjoy it, too, put a damper on the whole thing. But unlike Stella, Clyde didn't pick up on any hidden agendas. Instead, he played out versions of his future without Lincoln by his side.
"Hey, wait!" chirped Stella, changing her mind. "Lincoln... do me a favor and try on a pair of black slacks with the white blazer and a red velvet shirt," she requested. "Humor me, please."
"A red velvet shirt?" Lincoln thought. The last time he'd worn red was last Christmas when Leni had made the whole family red Santa hats. He trusted his friend, though, so he answered, "Sure," and got the appropriate clothes off the rack.
Stella mused on the current situation. If Lincoln was not talking, there was someone else she could ask, the girl he was escorting, his sister Lola. But then, it's not like she knew the girl. Clyde was an honorary member of the family, but her? She was just one of Lincoln's friends. Given how crowded it was, she had barely hung out at Lincoln's place with their other friends, so her interactions with the girl were almost non-existent. Maybe Clyde was the answer, after all. With how often he hung out there, he must be on much closer terms with the girl.
"Say, Clyde," Stella began, watching Lincoln on the other side of the store. "Do you think you could try talking to Lola the next time you're over at Lincoln's place?"
Clyde raised an eyebrow curiously.
"I'm not asking you to interrogate her, but she's why Lincoln's going to this party. Right? She might have an idea about what's going on with him."
Scratching his head, Clyde watched Lincoln walk out of sight.
"Sure," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I must admit, I'm more than curious. And it'll be easy enough to do. But what am I supposed to be asking about? Precisely? I don't want to make her think Lincoln's up to something she doesn't know about."
"Oh, I don't know," sighed the girl. "Ask about the party in general. You know. Ask who'll be there, what got them invited, and so forth. Maybe we can piece things together from that. Just don't be obvious about it."
Clyde's mind was still uneasy, trying to process everything, and he was more than on edge. In retrospect, though, most of his prior foibles were nothing, and he wanted to believe that was the case now. However, he still needed a clue of his own. He was a pubescent boy, unlike Stella, and didn't have the couple of years of maturation she had. Not that Stella was highly advanced compared to the boys their age, but enough to where she had what girls often referred to as intuition, something Clyde didn't have.
"Um..." muttered the affronted boy. "I'm curious. What's with the last-minute change, anyway?"
Stella didn't want to give away her reasoning. Luckily, she didn't have to, as there was a valid secondary reason. "I thought the solid suit and dark blue shirt were too businesslike. It's a party where people have fun. He will be taller than most, and I thought the black slacks would draw their attention toward his face. The red velvet shirt is more relaxed and fun, not to mention comfortable," she informed her friend before giving the subtlest of hints at how she thought. "And, who knows. Suppose he meets a nice girl his age there. Red is romantic. He could even wear a rose on his lapel so he had something to give her."
"Y-you think... he..." stammered Clyde, feeling the beginnings of a robotic malfunction.
"I don't know what to think," shot Stella, pressing upon his shoulders to steady him. "I only want him prepared. But, we should hush. He's coming back. Now, settle down and act like Lincoln's friend, not a jealous baby."
"H-H-Hey L-L-Lincoln, your back! Because..." Clyde stammered. "That's what happens when you... er, come back after you've left!" he added awkwardly, causing Stella to inwardly facepalm.
"Right..." said Lincoln in response. "Thanks again, Stella," he said, addressing her. "I thought I looked like a million bucks." Lincoln gave her a thumbs up in appreciation. "I'll just stop by the till on our way out."
As Lincoln walked ahead of them, Stella elbowed Clyde in the ribs.
"Smooth," she whispered sarcastically to the neurotic boy.
After making his purchases, the three friends wandered the mall aimlessly, stopping briefly at random stores, primarily just to window shop. However, Lincoln did make a point to stop by the record store to buy the Moon Goats' newly released album on CD. Luna had already given him a free copy, but he wanted to enjoy the experience of purchasing it from an actual store so he could bask in how proud he was of her.
Wanting to do his bit for his rocker sister, and after noticing the store was pretty full as the recent retro CD craze was taking off, Lincoln decided to work his magic to promote his sister's band.
"Oh, my gosh!" Lincoln cried out excitedly. "They have the Moon Goats' new album, Between a Rocker and a Hard Place! Have you guys heard of the Moon Goats?! They are on fire! You should totally pick up a copy yourself!"
Either way, Clyde and Stella rolled their eyes after Lincoln purchased his sister's CD and acted as a walking billboard for her. It was sweet, though, very much something Lincoln might do. By the time they reached the comic store, Clyde had almost forgotten his worries. Rushing inside, he couldn't wait to browse the latest editions of all their favorite publications.
Clyde and Stella followed Lincoln through the crowd, constantly giving each other awkward looks, trying to say what couldn't get said out loud. Both failed, and each was growing increasingly annoyed with the other. However, the hustle and bustle of the mall alleviated much of their worry, as trying to stay together proved difficult. It seemed everyone in Royal Woods was there that day, and Stella wondered if it had anything to do with the party Lola's little friend was holding.
"Come on, Lincoln!" he shouted as he took off. "I hear the new Party Poopers edition is out. You know, the one where Ace goes to a super-secret meeting between superheroes while the sidekicks get left out? Supposedly, they get together and go on some wacky adventure alone! Doesn't that sound amazing?" he demanded to know, entirely missing the similarities to what was transpiring between them.
"Oh, for Pete's sake..." sighed Stella, heading toward the manga shelves. "I'll be over here, where the real stories are," she offered them. "Have fun!" she added, disappearing into the store.
"Suits me," chirped Clyde, adjusting his glasses. "Who needs all that romance and lovey-dovey crap anyway?"
"That's right, buddy," Lincoln said, draping an arm over his best friend, "Bros before hoes!"
Clyde blushed at Lincoln's mildly crude language. Sure, he heard so much worse from the other boys at school, but he was still pretty sensitive.
The two boys began to browse their favorite titles and started making selections while talking excitedly to each other about various things they had already heard leaked online. After getting everything he planned on buying, Lincoln decided to explore different sections for anything new that might catch his eye. Seeing Stella told him he had wandered into the manga section.
As Lincoln neared the wall, a Sailor Moon poster caught his eye. It featured the titular character in a mildly provocative pose. He had never read the manga or watched the anime, but given his age, his gaze drifted over the thighs of the similar-aged character, almost entirely exposed by the impossibly short skirt she wore.
Noticing his young body's response, Lincoln moved his eyes upwards. Usagi was winking in a playfully seductive way, her face framed by long blond hair similar to Lola's, and before his eyes, her face morphed into that of his sister.
Lincoln swallowed.
"It doesn't mean anything," Lincoln repeated in his head.
He admired and appreciated how objectively beautiful she was, that's all. Lincoln turned away, and then he gasped. Lola was everywhere. Every cute girl on the covers of every manga, poster, and plastic figurine bore Lola's face. In one instance, she was fighting with a giant pair of scissors. In another, his sister was a cat-eared girl. Then, she was in a Japanese yukata. Finally, his eyes landed on her in a revealing two-piece swimsuit.
Lincoln's mind screamed at him to get out as he felt the bulge in his pants swell.
"I didn't want this!" the boy told himself.
He didn't think of Lola like that! But his body refused to listen, and he froze, his face pale.
"Lincoln, are you okay?" Stella asked, having walked up to him after seeing him standing rigid.
"I'm fine, Ste-" Lincoln began to say before halting mid-word.
Stella now looked like Lola, too, only with the older girl's fourteen-year-old body, rounded hips, and B-cup breasts. So very sexy. Lincoln thought he would be sick and thrust his clothes, comics, and wallet into Stella's confused hands.
"I'm sorry, I have to go!" he belted before dashing from the store.
"What?" gasped Stella, stepping out of his way.
She'd never seen Lincoln act that way before. He lived for comics and superheroes. Stella furrowed her brows, her suspicions rising. She immediately put the "Evangelion" manga she was considering purchasing back, set Lincoln's selection down, and hurried after him, stopping long enough to tell Clyde what was happening.
"Come on," she ordered, low and severe. "There's something wrong with Lincoln," she explained as she tugged on his arm.
Dumping the comic he was perusing onto a shelf without a second thought, Clyde rushed outside the store behind Stella, each looking a different way for him.
"Lincoln? Buddy?" called Clyde, shielding his eyes as he scanned left.
"Lincoln? Hey, Linc!" shouted Stella as she gazed right.
But, for their lives, neither saw one trace of their friend. Turning their glances toward each other, Clyde spoke first.
"What happened, anyway?" he asked his female friend, concern growing.
"I'm not exactly sure..." sighed Stella, wrapping her arms around herself, looking even more worried than Clyde if such a thing were possible. "One minute, he was talking to me normally. The next, he shoved his clothes, comics, and wallet into my hands and ran out! What do you think we should do?"
The thing to understand about Clyde was that when it came to his insecurities and anxieties, he would frequently let them overwhelm him. But if another person was involved and their safety or well-being depended on him keeping it together, he would draw upon some hidden strength deep down and step up to the plate.
"Let's split up and find him," Clyde said with self-assurance. "The one who finds him can call the other, don't approach him until we've met up. If he's freaking out the way you're describing it, it may take the both of us to reach him and calm him down."
Stella stared at Clyde for a second. He was so stoic and confident. Stella had always liked Clyde. He was one of her dear friends, so of course she did, but at that moment, he seemed relatively cool for the first time.
While Clyde may have been insecure, Stella was genuinely worried for Lincoln. He was usually so on top of things. Sure, he had moments where he'd freak out, like any inexperienced kid, but not to the point of leaving his wallet behind without explanation.
"No," sighed Stella. "Someone needs to stay here in case he comes back. It would help if you looked for him because you know where he might go better than me. Besides," she muttered, holding her friend's old and frayed wallet. "He shoved his comics and his wallet into my hands before he ran out, remember?" Stella reminded the boy before glancing at where she put the comics down. "I'll pay for them while you try to find him. I'll call you if he comes back."
Stella had the utmost confidence in Clyde in this matter. If anything, he was the best person for the search for many reasons. One was his friendship with Lincoln. Another was his fear of losing him. Lastly, the boy would not have been able to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Loud what happened to their son on his watch.
Pushing Clyde to begin the search, the worried girl headed back inside the comic store, located her manga and Lincoln's comics, which she'd set aside before leaving, and paid for them at the counter. Then, after carefully walking the aisles, looking for a returned Lincoln, she stood by the front door, intending to catch either of the boys on their way back.
"I have to get away. I have to go," Lincoln's mind echoed like a tribal drumbeat. He was trying to escape, but how could he escape from himself?
The Bible declared the truth will set you free. Of course, that only refers to what was in the book itself. That which strained the edges of Lincoln's subconscious and demanded his recognition threatened to enslave him. Lincoln couldn't accept the reality of his increased affection for Lola. His fear of where those feelings might lead would force him to create a mental prison, forever separating himself from Lola with metaphorical bars, denying himself the salvation the close bond with his sister had promised.
Panting to catch his breath, Lincoln leaned face-first against the large salon window and closed his eyes. The glass felt cool against his forehead, and he allowed his mind to slow down.
"It's okay," he told himself, "I can explain this."
For the next thirty seconds, Lincoln's brain struggled to rationalize his previous thoughts. Borrowing elements from his earlier mental somersaults, Lincoln tried to put the genie back in the bottle; to close Pandora's box.
"I must have a crush on Stella," Lincoln told himself.
After all, he had thought she was hot when he first met her. They all had; Clyde, Liam, Rusty, and Zach. She had been the girl to bring him out of the post-Ronnie-Anne-leaving funk he had been in, regardless of how well he hid it from everyone else. Stella was a young woman, not a little kid, and had the goods. That intense sexual attraction he felt just now was all for her. Her face just turned into Lola's because of how close they were. His subconscious seemed to be telling him he had a crush on Lola. But Lincoln couldn't accept that and vehemently argued that it must be mistaken, that what he truly wanted was just as close a relationship with Stella as he had with Lola!
Relief washed over Lincoln like he had gotten trapped underwater and was finally able to reach the surface and inhale the sweet air, relieving the pain and pressure on his lungs. Only in his case, it had been his heart.
With something of a definitive sense of resolution, bringing all the confused thoughts he'd had over the last few days to a close, Lincoln concluded he had some previously unknown crush on Stella. He positively did not, nor would ever, find his nine-year-old little sister attractive, romantically or sexually.
Lincoln opened his eyes, and there she was, Lola, not a hallucination this time. Oh, no. There was no mistaking her sitting next to Leni, getting her hair done, her perfect blond hair that shimmered in the sunlight like gold.
Their eyes met through the glass, and Lincoln's elaborate web of denial came crashing down like a straw house in a hurricane. Her big blue eyes expressed such childlike wonder alongside moments of emotional vulnerability. Her flawless skin shone as though she were a marble statue. And the rest of her, a nine-year-old girl's body, should be so unappealing. And yet, it was not just any nine-year-old body. It was Lola's. Because of that, the last trace of his psychological need for self-preservation pleaded with him not to complete the thought. However, he found her body more beautiful, attractive, and sexier than any girl's body his young mind could imagine.
A foreboding terror gripped Lincoln regarding the implications of his thoughts. What did they say about the kind of person he was? Was he some deranged pervert? Was he mentally ill? Regardless, Lincoln noticed Lola was smiling and waving at him, and he could hear music somehow, the notes taking physical form, trying to carry him through the door to take her in his arms. She would welcome it, and then, pulling back and looking at him with such love and devotion, thinking nothing of the consequences, thinking the whole world could burn for all he cared, he would claim her lips with his own. Then, after her initial shock and surprise, she would accept it and kiss him back.
"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Lincoln's mind suddenly screamed, snapping like an elastic band pulled beyond its ability to return to its original shape.
He was running again, yet this time he only made it a dozen feet before, straight out of a cartoon, his foot made contact with a banana peel. Lincoln slid, unable to stop, and went down a flight of steps, his body taking multiple heavy impacts on the way down as he bounced off shoppers and made contact with the concrete steps, finally reaching the bottom where his head struck the floor. Everything went dark as the boy got knocked out.
Clyde returned to the comic store nearly twenty minutes later, panting and holding his gut. He was sweating so badly that he looked worse than Lynn after going extra innings.
"What's the matter?" exclaimed Stella, perking up at seeing his approach. "Where's Lincoln? Did you find him?"
"Ob-obviously n-not..." breathed the belabored boy, leaning against the doorway. "I looked everywhere. I don't get it. Where could he have gone, and why?"
Then, as one of the mall's custodians passed by, carrying a small broom and dustpan, Stella got an idea. Running up to the man, she announced herself.
"Hi," she said urgently, her hands moving with her mouth. "I don't mean to interrupt your work, but our friend ran off, and we can't find him! Can you call it in or something?"
"Sure, little miss," the man said, holstering his tools and fetching his local two-way radio. "What's your friend's name, and what does he look like?"
"His name is Lincoln Loud," Stella informed the man. "He's about our height, has white hair, and-"
"Wait..." interjected the man. "Did you say white hair?"
"Uh, yeah?" Stella acknowledged. "Why? Have you seen him?"
"Actually..." said the custodian, scratching his head after pocketing his radio. "You two should come with me. Your friend fell down a flight of stairs and is in the office."
Stella covered her mouth and stared at Clyde, wide-eyed and afraid.
Lincoln gazed at Ronnie Anne in her dress. Ever the tomboy, she'd shied away from skirts and dresses when she was younger. They just got in the way of doing what the girl loved, like skateboarding. In addition, she and many similar girls had a strained relationship with their femininity. When you're young, things seem much more black and white, so it's easy to fall into reductive thinking. Expressing any aspect of your feminine side meant you were betraying your gender and would end up some vapid cheerleader with a fake Valley girl accent. Ronnie Anne gradually learned things were not so simple as she grew and matured, especially after she and her family returned to Royal Woods four years ago. And where she once might've worn something casual, she now wore a mildly revealing purple dress to their prom.
"Eyes up here, Lame-o," Ronnie Anne teased when she noticed Lincoln's eyes dart to the bit of cleavage she was showing.
"I was only admiring your dress!" Lincoln said in his defense while suspiciously avoiding eye contact with his girlfriend.
"Sure you were," Ronne Anne shot, rolling her eyes. Then leaning in, she added in a low voice, "And I was only admiring your pants. Not that impressive bulge you have there. Is all that just for me?"
Lincoln blushed as Ronnie snicked.
"Come on, Linc, let's dance!" Ronnie Anne said excitedly, pulling him onto the dance floor.
As they swayed to the music, Lincoln remembered how she had made everything right over the last few years after moving back into his life. However, his mind had gone entirely blank, unable to create a single memory.
"Penny, for your thoughts," Ronnie Anne said as she draped her arms over his shoulders.
Lincoln smiled at her, his first love, his true love.
"It's nothing. I'm just struggling to remember anything," Lincoln said awkwardly, knowing how weird it sounded.
"Humph," Ronnie Anne pouted. "You should not be thinking about the past, but the future, your future with me!" Ronnie Anne quipped, sticking out her tongue playfully. "After all, I'll be finishing grade school in a few years."
Lincoln did a double-take.
"Wait, did you say grade school?" Lincoln questioned, confused.
"Well, duh, I'm only nine years old," Ronnie Anne answered in an amused tone.
"Huh?" Lincoln exclaimed. "But we didn't even know each other till the end of middle school!"
"What are you talking about, Lincoln?" Ronnie Anne said, tilting her head to one side. "I'm your sister. You've known me my whole life."
Lincoln stared at Ronnie Anne, utterly bewildered.
"You're not making any sense," Lincoln said before noticing Ronnie Anne suddenly seemed much shorter than a moment ago.
Lincoln blinked his eyes hard, assuming he was seeing things, but no, she was smaller and continuing to shrink right in front of him. Her raven dark hair was also getting lighter, along with her olive skin. Lincoln started to back away, shaking.
"Ronnie Anne, what's happening?" he asked, his thoughts jumbled.
"Stop calling me that!" Ronnie Anne snapped, "It's not my name."
Her voice sounded different, too, higher in pitch. Lincoln's throat felt dry.
"This is wrong. It can't be real", the troubled boy thought.
"You know my name, Lincy," Ronnie Anne said with a devilish smile.
She was so short now, and her breasts and hips had flattened out along with her height.
"I'm your true love Lincoln, not that bitch who left you, who broke your heart. I'll never leave you, Lincoln. I'll be by your side forever, Lincoln, because we're family," the girl reminded him.
"Stop, please stop," Lincoln pleaded as he backed away.
"Say it, Lincoln. Say my name! Say the name of the girl you love!" the girl that was once Ronnie Anne but now resembled his little sister said.
Lincoln fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands before responding.
"I don't l-l-love you, Lola. Not like that," Lincoln uttered. "I just have a crush on you. I'm never going to tell you. You'll never even know."
Then, he heard her approach and felt her hands on his shoulders.
"Don't touch me, Lola," Lincoln pleaded, his voice trembling. "I'm a terrible person, and I have to stay away from you from now on."
"Why do you want to hurt me, Lincoln?" Lola asked accusingly.
"I don't!" Lincoln protested. "That's why I have to keep my distance, to protect you from me!"
"And who's going to protect me from everyone else?" Lola questioned. "I'm getting famous, Lincoln. My star is rising. It's commercials today, but tomorrow it might be shows, movies."
Lincoln moved his hands to look at her, curious about what she was getting at.
"You know what happens to little girls in Hollywood, don't you, Lincoln? The drugs, the sexual abuse, and you won't be there, Lincoln. Won't you watch over me?" she asked.
"Mom, Dad, our sisters, they'll protect you," Lincoln said definitely.
"I'm sure they'll do their best, Lincoln, but they're so stretched already, not like you, Lincoln. You'd never let anything bad happen to me, would you?"
Lincoln felt his shoulders slump forward, feeling the weight of responsibility.
"No, Lola," he said in a defeated voice. "I could never let anything bad happen to you."
Lola smiled, leaning in, her face close to his. Lincoln could feel her breath on his nose.
"You'd never be able to live with yourself if something did. Would you, Lincy?" Lola asked, grinning, the boy's eyes welling up with tears, and in the distortion of the light through them, it seemed like Lola had little devil horns.
"No," Lincoln said, utterly broken.
"You're going to stay close to me. Aren't you, Lincy?" Lola asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," Lincoln whispered as the tears started to flow.
"Don't worry, Lincy," Lola said sweetly, putting her arms around his head. "Your crush on me will just be our little secret then."
Lola then gently shook him. "Lincoln? Lincoln?" she said softly. "Wake up."
With a start, Lincoln opened his eyes to see Clyde leaning down over him with a worried expression, his hands gently gripping his shoulders.
"Hey, buddy!" exclaimed Clyde, happy to see his long-time friend come around. "Are you feeling alright? You gave us quite a scare there," he said, backing off to give Lincoln room to sit up and breathe.
Then, pushing between the mall's general manager and Clyde, Stella grimaced at Lincoln sternly.
"Listen, Lincoln," she said flatly. "This has gone beyond simple worry. You left us standing there with no clue what to think! Now..." she said, folding her arms. "Like it or not, you need to start talking because whatever is bothering you has gotten out of control. But, in the meantime, you're probably shaken, so let's go to the arcade and relax a little before you say anything."
"Stella's right, man," Clyde confirmed, nodding toward the girl. "We care about you, you know. Whatever it is, we'll understand. At least, we'll try to."
"Alright..." sighed the manager, patting Lincoln on the back. "You seem well enough now. You're free to leave. Just don't go falling down more flights of stairs, okay?"
"Thanks," Lincoln said as he sat up.
His head hurt pretty severely. Touching his face, he winched. Yeah, he could feel the swelling already.
His thoughts then turned to his friends. Under different circumstances, Lincoln would have felt deeply touched by their concern. Given his situation, it was just another problem to add to the pile. While he thought they might struggle to understand his need for a platonic closeness with his little sister, admitting he also had a crush on her would make it practically impossible.
It was ironic. The fact that Stella and Clyde would take issue with it was why they were his close friends. He knew he could never be friends with someone who thought his feelings towards Lola were acceptable. As disgustingly hypocritical as he knew it made him sound, Lincoln silently admitted he would also take issue with it in a reverse situation. Lincoln would never act on his crush but would lock it away, a secret of his heart. He'd treasure it as simply some other part of his closeness with Lola until he inevitably moved on.
They needed an answer, though, and they would not settle for his half-baked evasions. He had to give them something concrete to satisfy them, at least for a while.
Swinging his feet off the office couch he had gotten laid on, Lincoln attempted to stand and immediately felt his legs start to give way, the pain in his head making him dizzy.
"Easy, Buddy, I got you," Clyde said, grabbing Lincoln's side to steady him.
Standing upright, Lincoln looked back and forth between his two friends.
"I didn't mean to freak you guys out," Lincoln said apologetically, hanging his head low.
"It's okay," Stella said, her strained voice softening slightly. "Whatever this is, you don't have to face it alone. You know that. Right?"
Lincoln gave a weak smile. If only she knew just how alone he was just then. To have a secret that is so potentially dangerous inside you, you can never, even for a moment, allow it to get out. There was no one, literally no one, that Lincoln could share this with.
Even if he went online to the more obscure and seedy parts of the web, seeking people who might understand his feelings, he'd be alone even among his so-called peers. Would they share his understanding of the impossibility of a relationship between them and consider it morally abhorrent? He doubted it. He'd likely get egged on by twisted, perverted freaks who mistook hentai manga and anime for real life.
"Let's go have some fun at the arcade," Lincoln said, avoiding Stella's question. Then in a low, resigned voice, he added, "I promise I'll explain everything afterward."
With that, Stella gave him a big, heartfelt smile, and Lincoln noticed Clyde tearing up slightly.
Yes, he was going to tell them, tell them everything, Lincoln reasoned. However, unbeknownst to them, by everything, he meant all but the finer details, not the entirety of what was really going on.
It took Lincoln a few moments to regain his steadiness. But, with his friend's help and some bottled water the manager offered him, it wasn't long before the trio returned to the upper floor. In typical fashion, the mall situated the food count on the top floor to provide easier exhaust from the ovens. Likewise, the arcade was located next to the food court, designed to funnel children and those with money to burn.
Clyde was happy to have his friend back and put aside his concerns for now. Stella tried to do the same, but she knew Lincoln was struggling with something. If only he'd give them a vague overview, they might be able to help him. But they needed to get him into a talking mood. To that end, games were the answer. Lincoln tended to lose himself in them, and Stella and Clyde needed Lincoln to be relaxed and free to speak his mind.
"Here we are!" chirped Clyde, fishing some loose bills from his pocket. "Time to get some tokens. Do either of you want to play Dungeon Dwellers in multiplayer?"
"Oh, no thanks," sighed Stella. "I'm more into the classics, like Pac-Man and Asteroids. But, I'll watch and cheer you guys on!" she offered.
"Well, alright then!" exclaimed the boy with the striped shirt. "Let's do this!" he said, leading the way to the back of the arcade where the larger games were.
As they reached the machine, Stella fetched Lincoln's wallet, the comics he had considered, and the bagged suit, handing them to him while smiling.
"Here," she said. "I know you gave me this to pay for the books, but I felt it invaded your privacy, so I paid for it. I hope you don't mind."
Of course, being a girl, Stella was a bit more mature than her comrades, and she worried she might come across something Lincoln might not have wanted her to see, something that might cause him embarrassment later.
"Thanks, I appreciate the thought," Lincoln answered as he took the items. "But honestly, there's nothing in my wallet you needed to worry about, no business card for my secret double life as a Mafia hitman."
Lincoln winked at Stella, who rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.
After quickly stopping at the token machine, Lincoln followed Clyde to the arcade cabinet and chose his character. Clyde always went for the wizard, while he preferred the elf. Their co-op games were always one-sided without any tank characters to take a beating if enemies got through their well-coordinated constant long-range barrage of arrows and lightning bolts. Still, it's how they both preferred to play. Tactical optimization be damned!
"I'm going for a charge spell to get us through the castle wall Lincoln. Do you think you can cover us?" Clyde asked.
It was a bit of a gamble. Usually, one would have to fight several waves until one of the black knights dropped a key, but the game had branching paths. One could bypass the fights by having the wizard blow a hole in the wall, but it took a full thirty seconds to charge the spell, and while doing so, they could not attack.
"Go for it!" Lincoln said excitedly. "I've got us covered!"
Clyde began charging the spell, and Lincoln gave it everything he had, his hands flying over the controls in a mad blur as goblins and beast-men approached them from all three sides.
"Almost there," Clyde said tensely. The enemies were practically on top of them, and Lincoln was sweating. "Boom!" Clyde exclaimed, unleashing the magical blast. "How do you like them apples?"
"Yay!" Stella cheered, although she had no idea about the scale of the accomplishment she'd just witnessed.
As often happened, Lincoln and Clyde ran afoul of the Demonic Sorcerer who guarded the portal to the Underworld.
"Ugh, he is so cheap," Clyde said disparagingly.
"Yeah," Lincoln agreed, "A boss having a one-hit kill attack in a beat um up is just broken."
"Told you Pac-Man was better," Stella said smugly, "Speaking of which, they have Pac-Man: Battle Royale, where you can eat each other if you grab a power pellet, you game?" Stella challenged her friends.
"Oh, we're game!" Clyde answered with enthusiasm.
"It is on like Donkey Kong!" Lincoln joined in.
"No, not Donkey Kong. Pac-Man, silly," Stella teased as they headed to the game.
Lincoln and Clyde both chuckled at Stella's comment. Whether she was only toying with them, it came across as endearing in an almost childlike way. As open-minded and malleable as children were, they seemed to have a rather simplistic view of the world. A bologna sandwich was in no way similar to a peanut butter sandwich. But, once they got past the change in perspective, the similarities became apparent.
"Shoot!" exclaimed Clyde as they wandered to the multiplayer Pac-Man machine. "I just realized something. Pac-Man has a one-hit kill, too. He'll eat you in one bite!"
"Haha!" laughed Stella, grinning at her friends as she deposited her token and selected the pink avatar to differentiate her's character from theirs.
Likewise, Clyde chose the blue-colored Pac-Man after inserting his token, while Lincoln went with the classic yellow.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Start your Pacs!" Clyde announced. "May the ghosts be slow and the dots many!"
"Oh, for crying out loud..." sighed the teen girl. "What's with the narration? Can't you just play a game?"
They played several rounds once everyone was ready. It had been some time since the boys had played such simplistic games, preferring the more advanced features of co-op RPGs and MMOs. Thusly, Stella won the first round. Being of quick wit, Lincoln took the second and third. Once more, Stella cleaned up on the fourth while Clyde's inspiration kicked in a little late, winning the final two rounds.
"Geez..." sighed Stella with a look of amazement. "Where did that come from, Clyde?"
"Oh, I don't know," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders and pocketing his hands. "Once you decide you want something and commit, you can do anything. I knew what I wanted and went for it."
"Lincoln?" the girl asked, glancing at him, appraising his relaxing state of mind. "What do you want to play next? Clyde chose the first one, and I picked the second. It's your turn."
Like a general surveying a battlefield, Lincoln looked over the arcade. He was having fun and could almost forget the uncomfortable conversation he would have with his friends shortly. But it was always there, at the back of his mind, approaching with the force of an oncoming train.
It was moments like this that Lincoln wished he had a reset button. He could rehearse the conversion with them a thousand times, working out through the process of elimination the perfect combination of words to satisfy them without giving too much away. He could even throw out a few details for a laugh just to enjoy their reaction.
"Oh, why have I been acting weird? Well, the other day, as I was beating my meat while thinking about several girls and women I think are hot, I suddenly thought about cumming all over my nine-year-old sister's naked chest. That's totally normal. Right?" Lincoln played out in his mind.
"Wait, what's that in the corner?" Lincoln asked out loud, interrupting his thoughts.
Stella and Clyde followed his gaze to four chairs with V.R. headsets attached and a bored-looking employee.
"Didn't the basketball hoops used to be there?" Clyde interjected.
"Your right," Stella agreed. "Looks like they took them out and replaced them with some new V.R. stuff."
"Well, let's check it out," Lincoln said, his curiosity getting the better of him.
The three friends arrived at the booth, and an older teen with a thousand-mile stare asked them in a monotone voice which of the various V.R. simulations they wanted to experience, describing each one.
"It's still your pick, man," Clyde reminded him, with Stella nodding. "You choose."
Lincoln selected a science fiction one. They would each pilot an attack ship in a bombing run against a giant enemy space station. They handed over their tokens and sat down.
"Use the force, Luke!" Clyde said to his friends as he strapped in, Lincoln and Stella getting the reference.
"If you start to feel nauseous," the employee droned on, "Use the emergency exit button by your right hand. If you think you'll barf, raise your hand, and I'll bring over the bucket."
The program started, and Lincoln got transported into the spaceship cockpit in a hanger bay.
"Clyde, Stella, where are you?" Lincoln asked through the mic in the headset.
"Over here, buddy," Clyde said. "I'm on the left."
Lincoln turned his head and saw him.
"I'm on the right," Stella chimed in.
Around them, A.I. characters carried out their last-minute checks while some fleet admiral ratted off about their mission objectives. At the same time, footage played out on a tactical display while explaining the basic controls.
"Space, the final frontier," Lincoln began, grinning. "These are the voyages of the starfighters, er, fighters 1, 2, and 3. Our five-minute mission to explore strange new enemy bases, to seek out targets and new high scores, to boldly go where plenty of players have gone before!"
The fighters blasted out into the black void and immediately came under fire from hordes of enemy ships.
"YEEEHAAA!" Clyde cried out excitedly as he let his lasers rip, tearing into enemy ships, cannons, and embattlements.
"PUNCH IT!" Stella yelled and activated her turbo boost to get behind an opposing fighter formation, causing her seat to fall back to imitate the g-force.
"Don't get distracted, guys," Lincoln cautioned his teammates, "Taking out the base is our mission, not getting into dog fights with these grunts."
Deferring to Lincoln's authority as the game was his pick, the two pulled alongside him in a tight formation and dodged the turret fire.
"Remember to use your countermeasures if a missile locks onto you," Lincoln advised them.
"Cover me, guys. I'm going to start my bombing run," Stella said, pulling ahead slightly.
"Roger," Lincoln answered. "Clyde, you focus on the fighters above. I'll take care of the turrets below."
They went in, and Stella dropped her proton bomb on the main generator, but, unfortunately, her aim was off.
"Told you. You should have used the force," Clyde chided.
"It's a good thing we're in V.R., and you can't see the hand gesture I'm making right now," Stella muttered.
Lincoln looked at his team's shield gauges. His read 42%, Stella's 67%, and Clyde's 10%. "Okay," Lincoln said sternly, "We can probably do one more bombing run before we're space dust. Clyde, it's all down to you."
"Me?!" Clyde yelped in a panic, "But I'm only on 10%!"
"Exactly," Lincoln replied, "Your shields aren't strong enough to take damage to act as an escort again," he explained before addressing his other wingmate. "Stella, I already had some practice taking out the turrets during your run, you take Clyde's place against the fighters, and we'll come around.
"Lincoln, I can't do this!" Clyde complained, hyperventilating.
"Yes, you can. The force is with you!" Lincoln shouted words of comfort towards his friend.
Red alarms went off inside his cockpit as the shields began to fail, but Lincoln kept going, his shields almost depleted under the never-ending onslaught.
"Lincoln, I have a missile locked onto me!" Clyde cried out in a panic.
"Use your countermeasures," Stella reminded him.
"I can't. I'm all out!" Clyde screamed.
"No, you're not," Lincoln said in an ice-cool tone, "I'm your countermeasure."
"Lincoln, what are you doing?" Stella questioned as she watched Lincoln's ship veer off course.
"Saving the mission," Lincoln said as he flew his craft into the missile's path.
"Lincoln! NOOO!" Clyde cried out.
"You can make it, Clyde," Lincoln said. "I believe in you."
The white-haired boy removed his sunglasses from his pocket and placed them over his VR goggles while hearing the Top Gun theme playing inside his head. The missile impacted, and Lincoln's view was momentarily engulfed in the fire before being informed that he was dead, forced to watch the rest of the game play out as a spectator.
Lincoln's faith in Clyde proved well-placed as his friend's aim was true, and he and Stella took off using their turbo boosts as the base exploded behind them. All three of them exited the V.R. game and embraced in an excited group hug while the unnamed employee continued sitting on his stool, feeling dead inside.
"Well," Clyde said, beaming. "I think after saving the galaxy, we need something to eat. To the food court!"
"You got that right!" agreed Stella, quickly backing away from their platonic hug.
She hadn't forgotten how the boys fawned and argued over her when they first met, and though they had all agreed to be the best of friends, she still wavered when it came to close physical contact, especially when the others weren't around. The last thing Stella wanted was to reignite old jealousies. Though, from the sound of it, Lincoln might not be interested in her anymore. At least, that was her hope, as it was for Clyde and the others.
Stella was neither an object up for ownership nor a prize to claim. It was also a bad idea for anyone to get too serious with the first girl they met. In her parents' day, people dated many suitors to see what they were like, and who complimented them best. Only then, if both agreed, the couple would go steady, putting all others to the side. Sometimes, they'd break up. Other times, they'd eventually get engaged. Today, it seemed like all anyone wanted to do was latch onto the first person that gave them the slightest attention.
"I think I could eat ten falafels!" she declared, leading the way from the arcade to the food court.
"I'll settle for a couple of slices of Pizza myself," countered Clyde, following Stella's lead.
Behind Clyde came Lincoln, already crashing from the earlier adrenaline rush as he realized the impending, difficult conversation with his friends was no longer future Lincoln's problem but his. Lost in thoughts of his own, he was not paying explicit attention to where he was going and collided with a woman, causing her to lose her grip on the leash of the massive dog that was, until then, pulling her around the mall. Discovering her newfound freedom, the dog dashed off excitedly.
"Sorry!" Lincoln cried out on instinct.
"Duchess! Duchess! HEEL!" the woman yelled vainly to the disinterested dog as she shot off like a bullet from a gun. Turning her head, she glared at Lincoln. "Young man, you should watch where you're going!" she scolded before taking off after the fugitive dog.
"You okay, buddy?" Clyde asked, having turned around and witnessed the exchange.
"Yeah, just a little anxious, I guess. I was not paying attention." Lincoln said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
Clyde favored him with a sympathetic smile. "Come on, man, let's sit down and eat," he said reassuringly.
Of course, their unspoken plan was simple. Now that Lincoln had gotten a chance to relax and think, they needed to stall him with food until they brought up the subject of his strange behavior earlier. After placing their orders at separate outlets, everyone met at a table near the large windows overlooking the parking lot.
"So..." muttered the hungry girl after taking a long sip from her soda and unwrapping her first falafel. "Lincoln?" she prompted. "Are you ready to explain yourself? You had us worried."
Lincoln had ordered a meatball sandwich, trying to bulk up a little with extra protein as of late, but it had not had much effect. He took a bite, both because he was hungry and to delay the inevitable conversation just a moment longer.
Finishing his mouthful, Lincoln put it down and sighed. There was no easy way to start telling his string of half-truths. He just had to tear off the band-aid and start.
"There is someone who will be at the party, besides all the bratty little kids I'm taking Lola to meet, that I have a crush on," Lincoln announced, carefully choosing his words.
Lincoln didn't feel it was technically necessary to spell out that the person was not one of the kids he and Lola would be hanging out with because they would never in a million years assume he had a crush on a child, let alone Lola. When he makes a cryptic reference to an age difference, they would automatically believe it was an older woman. It was all about allowing their natural assumptions to take over.
Lincoln knew this was different from before when he had withheld specific facts while attempting to brush them off at the clothing store. Earlier, he had simply hoped they would incorrectly fill in the blanks and leave it at that. There was a certain plausible deniability in the act. At least he could delude himself there was. But now, he was actively trying to manipulate them, consciously directing them away from the truth. Lincoln knew it was crossing a line, but he just could not see any other way out of it, so he pushed aside his guilt and stepped over it.
"Ha! I knew it!" chirped Stella triumphantly, gently banging the table with her fist. "Who is she? Is she an older sister escorting her little brother or sister like you and Lola?"
Now came the most dangerous part, telling his friends the truth but misdirecting them so he could speak with honesty.
"Clyde," Lincoln said, looking down at the table, "Remember your crush on Lori back when we were little?"
At the mention of his embarrassing youthful crush, Clyde blushed.
"Lincoln, you promised you'd never tell anyone!" Clyde protested.
Stella's eyes crossed in concentration for a moment.
"Wait, Lori?" Stella began, "As in Lincoln's older sister, who went off to college?" Stella snorted, "I can see why that didn't work out."
"Don't remind me," Clyde said, covering his face with his hands. "I was a stupid, dumb kid to think she'd ever like me that way."
"I'll say. 'Lori, why don't you have a seat?'" Stella said, referencing Chris Hanson, despite it airing long before she was born, but knowing it well from memes.
"That's my point," Lincoln said sadly, "With my crush, there is also a big age gap. Too big, and I'm not eleven like Clyde was. I know it's impossible. It would be totally fucked up and creepy if she were actually interested in me."
The true genius of Lincoln's plan was the compassion he showed toward Clyde. The difference was he was casting himself in Clyde's position as the younger of the two, not older, like Lori. With his earlier, subtle reference excluding all the other kids there, they would assume his crush was a much older sister or maybe even one of the kids' mothers.
A silence settled over the group for a moment, Stella and Clyde both taking in what Lincoln had said while he waited for their response.
"I can see how that might be a little uncomfortable to talk about," Stella conceded.
Lincoln was right. They were not little kids anymore who did not know any better. At their age, developing feelings for someone a lot older could get messy and complicated and hurt a hell of a lot more because it was frustrating just how close they are to being old enough where it would not matter. Along with that was the fact that it might come across as a sign of immaturity. Young children often crush on much older people and fantasize about doing specific things with them. That's fine when one is still young and immature. However, once they age and begin to mature, things change. They become aware that any reciprocal affection would make them a disgusting pervert.
"Linc," Clyde asked awkwardly. "Just how big of an age gap are we talking about here?"
Lincoln sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God was listening that Clyde had worded it ambiguously rather than asking something more specific, like how old is she, which would have forced him to lie explicitly.
"Five years," Lincoln replied evenly.
Clyde did the math in his head and whistled.
"Yeah," Lincoln said. "It would not matter if we were both in our twenties, but I'm fourteen, so I'm not going to tell her."
"Good plan," Clyde said, "You do not want to put yourself through that kind of embarrassment, I would know."
Again Clyde blushed, and Lincoln reached over and patted his head.
"Dude, for what it's worth," Lincoln said encouragingly, "If you'd been just four years older and Lori had not been dating Bobby, she'd have been eating out of your hand."
"Oh, cut it out, Lincoln," Clyde complained, his blush deepening. "I'm not all that."
"Don't sell yourself short," Lincoln said, continuing to pile it on. "You're filling out and have gotten quite popular with the girls in our grade and even the ones above, and that's only three years later."
"So, this girl... she'll be at the party, huh?" Stella said, cutting the touching moment short and returning to the matter.
"Yeah," Lincoln conceded, "She'll be there."
"And even if you're not planning on telling her how you feel, you want to impress her. You want her to think you look nice?" she asked for clarification.
Lincoln was silent for a bit. If she'd asked him that morning, he would have said no. He only wanted to get between her and any other guy because he feared losing Lola. But now that he had accepted his feelings, he had to admit she was absolutely right. Even though he would never tell or have a relationship with her, Lincoln wanted Lola to consider him handsome, despite being his much younger sister.
"Yes," Lincoln said quietly. "I do."
"You do what?" said a very familiar voice, though sounding somewhat agitated as it approached with a meal of its own.
"You'll have to excuse Lola," Leni chirped, as bright and cheerful as ever, trying vainly to fix Lola's hair while the younger girl tried blowing the damp strands out of her face. "She totes had an interesting day."
Pulling up two chairs and joining the trio, Leni and Lola began eating their meals: a health shake for Leni and a chilidog for Lola. Like Lincoln, Lola had hung some bagged clothing over the back of her chair. Her nails sparkled, and her skin glowed. Yet, her makeup had gotten ruined, and her hair was a hot mess.
"Hi, Lola," Clyde said as he timidly waved. "What happened?"
"Ugh!" Lola grimaced, slamming her hotdog onto her tray. "On our way here from, uh..." she stammered. "Anyway, I stopped at the fountain to make a wish when this large doggie ran around me, trying to escape its owner. I got tangled in the leash and ended up in the fountain! Can you believe that?"
"Well, Lola," Leni reminded her. "The perm set in well. All it'd take is a little T.L.C. from yours truly, and it'll look good as new."
"No thanks," sighed Lola. "You're great with tailoring and woodwork, but I'm not letting you near my hair. That's the money-maker."
Folding her arms and glaring at her little sister, Leni huffed before turning her attention to her shake.
"Not me, silly," the older girl offered. "I meant Lincoln," she stated. "He is your hairdresser, isn't he?"
Lola glanced toward Lincoln and blushed slightly.
"Yeah," she said, glowing. "Lincoln's the best!"
"So?" What've you guys been doing?" asked Leni of Lincoln and his friends.
"Just regular mall rat stuff," he explained.
Lincoln couldn't help but covertly eye Lola, sitting across from him. Even now, looking like she and Leni had taken Vanzilla through a car wash with the window jammed, she still looked absolutely adorable. Lincoln was grateful the moment to answer Lola's question had passed, and the conversation had moved on to other things. He trusted Clyde and Stella not to expose him, but coming up with a lie on the spot would have been awkward.
Lincoln's mind lingered on Lola's comments about the dog. Yeah, given the timing, that was clearly on him. With his peripheral vision, he could see Stella and Clyde trying not to snicker. He was about to address Lola and attempt to ease his guilt at being responsible for her little swim when her outburst over his condition startled everyone at the table.
"Oh, my, God! Lincy!" she gasped at finally noticing his wounds. Grabbing her napkin, she balled it up and dabbed at his sores. "What the heck happened to you?!"
"Lola, it's okay. Really," Lincoln assured her, wincing as she worked. "I just took a little tumble down the stairs, is all."
"Lincoln," Leni said with some attempt at sternness that came across like a mildly cross kitten, "You should, like, be more careful! I used to trip over my feet too until Lori told me I always had to do left, right, left, right, rather than right, right, wait, or was it left, left? Um..." Leni broke off and held up her hands, her thumb and forefinger making an L shape that reminded her which side was left. "It was left, left," the blond bimbo added, smiling. "Anyway, Lincy, you should totes be more careful!"
"It wasn't my fault," Lincoln said defensively, "I slipped on a banana peel near the salon!"
"Seriously?!" Clyde said, amazed. "An actual, honest-to-goodness banana peel?" he giggled.
"Was it dropped by a monkey who escaped from the zoo?" Stella added, amused.
"Ha, ha, hilarious, guys," Lincoln said, shaking his head. "Can you believe these guys, Lola?"
Lola turned a thousand shades of red as she withdrew her hand, still holding the napkin.
"Looks like we both had a bad day, huh?" Lola muttered in response.
"Alright, guys..." Leni perked up a few moments later as everyone finished their meals. Bringing her purse to the table, she fished around for her keys. "It's getting late. And, like, I should totally drive everyone home," she offered before recalling her keys were in her pocket. Standing to throw away her waste, she beamed at the youngsters. "Let's go home."
"Fine by me," groaned Lola, then stood, tossed her trash, and grabbed her bagged clothes. "The sooner Lincoln fixes my hair, the better."
Stella and Clyde looked nervously at Lincoln, bugging their eyes at him as they searched for reassurance that Leni wouldn't drive them off a bridge. After all, Leni had only been driving for about two years, and the stories Lincoln told them since she started would cause anyone to worry.
As the sky started to darken in the early hours of the evening, Vanzilla roamed the streets of Royal Woods to deposit its precious cargo of teens. First Stella, then Clyde, the two best friends fist bumping at their parting.
Contrary to their concerns, Leni drove with total competence, excluding one nerve-racking moment when she had casually asked Lincoln which color meant go and which meant stop at an upcoming intersection, admitting she had spontaneously forgotten.
Pulling into the driveway, the three siblings got out and headed inside, Lincoln holding the door for his sisters like the gentleman he was, earning a cheerful thanks from Leni and a mumbled one from Lola, her cheeks flushed.
After greeting the family members hanging out in the living room, Leni headed into the kitchen to talk to their father, who was preparing dinner, having agreed that she would be staying for it before driving back to her apartment.
After heading upstairs, the siblings briefly looked at each other. One was still damp from her plunge into the fountain. The other looked as though he'd just lost a fight. And, between them, they couldn't help but burst into nervous laughter before shaking their heads and walking into their respective rooms.
