The following day, Lincoln and Ronnie Anne worked out a way to share the multiversal goggles. Every week, the goggles would spend three nights at Lincoln's and three nights at Ronnie Anne's, and alternating Sundays. Every day during lunch hour, they'd meet up to exchange the goggles and talk about what they saw in their alternate timelines.

Of course, the goggles didn't technically belong to either of them, so they had to get Lisa's permission first. When she called up the scientist who built the goggles, he responded with a blunt, "Go nuts. I don't even care anymore."

The day after that marked the first "multiverse lunch" (as they would come to call them) between the two Sixth Graders: and truth be told, Lincoln was more than a little tense. He could hardly pay attention in class during the first three periods, as he spent all his energy fretting over whether to tell Ronnie Anne about Connie. On one hand, it wouldn't be fair of her to get jealous over that; after all, the other Lincoln was the one going after Connie, not him. Connie didn't even live anywhere near them in their own timeline. On the other hand, just because it wouldn't be reasonable for her to be jealous doesn't mean that she wouldn't.

Lincoln hoped that he could just hand over the goggles without discussing the matter at all- and at first, it seemed like he would have that option. After taking their seats, the two of them spent the following few minutes quietly choking down the school lunch, which consisted of stale chicken breast, crusty rice pilaf and soggy carrots.

His hopes were dashed, however, about five minutes in, when Ronnie Anne shoved aside her still half-full tray and opened up the conversation.

"So how's your timeline coming along?" she asked.

Fortunately, he had a response prepared. "For the most part, it's pretty much the same as this one," he said. Technically, it wasn't a lie; up until Connie introduced herself, his alternate timeline was point-for-point identical to his current one.

But Ronnie Anne wasn't going to let him off so easily. "Didn't Lisa say that I switched places with some other family?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Lincoln started to work up a minor sweat. "Oh, yeah, she did."

"So then who replaced me?"

Lincoln gulped, knowing full well that he was out of options. Ordinarily, he was a pretty good liar, but she was just too sharp for him. If he tried to fib his way out of this, it would only make things worse.

"Well, there's this other girl I meet," he said. "Her name is Connie."

"Mm-hmm," she said. "What's she like?"

Lincoln gulped again, praying that his answer would appease her. "Uh, she's nice, I guess. Really, really shy though. And definitely not as cute as you."

Before she could respond, Lincoln yanked the goggles out of his backpack and shoved them across the table towards her. "A-anyway, that's enough about me!" he said with a nervous guffaw. "How are things on your end?"

Ronnie Anne gave Lincoln a side-eye before scooping up the goggles and filing them into her backpack. "They're okay," she said. "See, in this timeline, my family moves to this beachfront town called Beach City."

"Oh, nice!" said Lincoln. "So do you do a lot of surfing and beach volleyball and stuff?"

"No, not from what I saw," she said. "Besides, I'd look hideous in a bikini," she added, capping off her remark with a dark chuckle.

"Really? I think you'd look pretty hot!" Lincoln blurted out.

Ronnie Anne's thin, narrow eyes burst open in bewilderment. "E-excuse me?!"

Lincoln blushed as soon as he realized what he said, which only intensified once he noticed that a few kids scattered around the cafeteria were staring at them.

"I-I mean good," he squeaked. "You would- you wouldn't look bad. That's all I was trying to say."

Ronnie Anne snickered, rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln..."

As soon as the other students looked away and went back to their business, she continued with her story. "But no, no swimming or surfing or anything like that. In fact, the only thing that happens is that I meet some kid on the beach named Steven."

"Oh, cool, so you meet someone new too!"

Lincoln leaned over the table towards her. "So what's this Steven kid like?"

"Well, um..."

Ronnie Anne slouched in her seat and started fiddling with her ponytail, raveling and unraveling it around her finger. "There's really not much to say," she said, as her eyes started wandering away from Lincoln's. "He's just, you know, kind of a dork."

"Oh, like me?" Lincoln asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ronnie Anne's eyes snapped back towards his. "No, you're a dweeb," she said with a sneer. "There's a difference."

Lincoln let out a rough, serrated laugh. "A dweeb, huh? Is that above or below a dork?"

"One step above a dork, two steps above a geek, and one step below a nerd," she replied matter-of-factly.

Lincoln laughed again, this one even rougher than the last. "So I'm lower than a nerd, then?"

Ronnie Anne shrugged. "Listen, Lame-O, I don't make the rules. I just call it as I see it."

After a beat, she scooted away from the table, hopped to her feet, slung her backpack over her shoulders and snapped up her still partially full tray. "Anyway, wanna go clear? I can't stomach any more of this dog food."

Lincoln rose from his seat, gave himself a moment to stretch his legs, and picked up his tray, which also still had some food left. "Yeah, let's toss 'em."

As the two of them walked over to the trash bin to dump their trays, Lincoln felt another lingering concern resurface in his mind.

"Hey, Ronnie Anne?"

She stopped in her tracks about a meter away from the trash bin and turned back towards him. "Yeah?"

"I was just wondering; what was with that text message you sent me two nights ago?"

Ronnie Anne knit her brow and loosened her grip on her tray, causing it to wobble a bit. "Which one?"

"The last one," said Lincoln. "You know, the one with the apology."

Ronnie Anne's eyes drooped towards the floor. "I mean, I was kind of a jerk to you when we first met. I just wanted to apologize for that."

"But why now?" asked Lincoln. "All that stuff happened ages ago."

"Well, I... uh..."

She swung away from him, marched up to the trash bin and dumped her tray. "I just felt bad, okay?" she said, her tone getting a little snippy. "Am I not allowed to be sorry?"

"N-no, you're allowed, you're allowed," he said, instinctively backing away from her. "A-apology accepted."

Ronnie Anne looked back over her shoulder and gave him a faint little half-smile. "Thanks."

With that, she gave Lincoln a wave goodbye, tossed her tray into the recycle bin and went on her way. As Lincoln watched her depart, he started feeling that same pang of doubt he felt last Saturday night when she left his house.

He knew that there was still something eating her. He just knew it. He just wished she'd let him in on it.

Ronnie Anne, meanwhile, powered through the remainder of her school day, doing her best to pay attention and keep both Lincoln and Steven out of her thoughts until the final bell. Once that bell rang, though, she had the liberty to fret to her heart's content. After Bobby picked her up, she spent the entirety of the car ride home sitting in stony silence, twiddling her fingers and glancing out the window.

"Hey, Nie-Nie? You feelin' okay?" asked Bobby, catching a glimpse of her sullen face in the rearview mirror.

Ronnie Anne just gave him a sharp nod.

"If you say so," he said, turning his eyes back towards the road. Those were the last words spoken by either of them for the rest of the trip.

As soon as he pulled into the Santiago house driveway, she flung open the car door, dashed in through the front door and bolted up the stairs towards her room. Once she got there, she let her backpack hit the floor with an undignified thud and started rummaging through it. She paid no heed to the swarths of dirty laundry lining her floor, the dirty dishes lingering on her nightstand, or the sheets of unfinished homework buried at the bottom of her bag, though she knew she'd be getting an earful from her mother about all three of those problems later that night.

But for now, what she needed most of all was closure: some form of reassurance that she and Steven would make up.


2:00 p.m.

July 21

Beach City

Ronnie Anne trudged toward the beach, a five-dollar bill crumpled up in her iron-bound fist. She felt so guilty about yesterday's incident that she hardly got any sleep, and she decided that the only way to ease her conscience was to pay Steven back.

Fortunately, she wouldn't have to look for him long. As soon as her sneakers touched the coarse, rough floor of the coast, she heard the faint jingle-jangle of a ukulele off in the distance. She looked across the beach to see the faint outline of that black, fluffy jewfro she recognized from the day before. As she approached, both the music and the image became clearer- and sure enough, it was him. It was Steven, laid out on the sand, blithely strumming away on a ukulele to the accompaniment of the occasional cawing seagull.

As she walked over, she developed a sharp cramp in the pit of her stomach, which only grew sharper as she got closer. As soon as he saw her approaching, he gasped and dropped his pick, and his dreamy smile completely evaporated, leaving an apprehensive frown in its wake. Upon seeing his reaction, the cramp in her stomach intensified.

"I-I'm sorry," she choked out. "Here."

She shoved the bill into Steven's face, with her fist still coiled around it, causing him to flinch and throw up his hands. After a moment, he caught a glimpse of the green note constricted between her fingers.

"Money?"

"Yeah, for the donut. Now take it before I change my mind."

With a gulp and a shudder, Steven grabbed the edge of the note and pried it out of her hand. "T-thanks."

As soon as the money escaped her grip, Ronnie Anne pivoted around 180 degrees and started marching away. She only made it a few meters away before she was stopped cold by a cry of, "Wait!"

She looked over her shoulder to see Steven lumbering towards her, leaving his ukulele behind. The sight of those sad, pleading eyes underscored by those plump, squirrel-like cheeks was almost too much for Ronnie Anne's heart to bear.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"I just... I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

Ronnie Anne was flabbergasted. Why was he apologizing to her?

"I was hoping that maybe we could, you know, be friends," he said.

Ronnie Anne just turned back around started walking away again, clamping her arms over her stomach in a vain attempt to quell the butterflies within. "We don't have to be friends."

"But I want to be!" cried Steven.

Ronnie Anne swiveled back around, sporting a furious glower.

"What's your deal?!" she demanded, as both of her hands clenched into fists. "I've been nothing but a jerk to you! Why do you want my friendship so badly?!"

He looked straight into her eyes, matching the intensity of her glare. "Because I don't want to have to avoid you every time I see you on the beach!"

Ronnie Anne felt a tightness in her chest, and the rest of her body followed suit. She tried to speak, but her jaw was locked in place. She tried to run, but her feet were bolted to the ground. It was rare that a boy stood up to her so unflinchingly- especially one as innocent and demure as Steven- and she didn't know how to respond.

"Besides, wouldn't you rather have a friend?" he asked. "Wouldn't you rather have someone to play with and go on adventures with?"

Ronnie Anne turned her head back towards the way she came. Her house was only a fifteen minute walk away. All she had to do was give him a polite but firm "no", and then she could go home, and he'd leave her alone, and she wouldn't have to deal with those weird, tingly feelings he gave her every time he came near.

But was that really what she wanted?

After all, he had a point. This was the first time since she moved to Beach City that someone was actively going out of his way to be friends with her. What kind of person would she be if she just tried to pass that up?

"Can't you at least tell me your name?" he asked.

Ronnie Anne's jaw unhooked itself and fell slack, letting a heavy sigh escape. "Ronnie Anne," she said. "My name is Ronnie Anne."

Steven smiled and held his hand out towards her. "Nice to meet you, Ronnie Anne."

Ronnie Anne jutted her hand forward and grabbed Steven's, purposefully making her grip as tight and unforgiving as possible. Much to her frustration, Steven didn't seem to notice. Instead, he just gave her a firm shake.

Ronnie Anne's stomach churned as she felt Steven's thumb caress the edge of her knuckles, and she felt a chill enveloping her skin. She tightened up, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

"Steven?" called a melodic, motherly voice from just behind the boy. "Who's this you're talking to?"

Ronnie Anne looked up to see a tall, willowy lady behind Steven, dressed in an aqua leotard and golden leggings. She had a pale, almost ghost-like skin tone, which stood in stark contrast to the vibrant colors of her outfit, not to mention her thick, peach-colored hair, done up in a pointy perm that seemed to defy gravity. As she approached them, she moved with all the poise and grace of a ballerina.

"Oh, hi, Pearl!" Steven called back.

Ronnie Anne raised her eyebrow in suspicion. She assumed that the lady was Steven's mom (she certainly looked old enough to be), but what kid addresses their parent by their first name?

"This is Ronnie Anne," he said. "She's my new friend!"

"Now wait a-" Ronnie Anne began, only to be cut off by Pearl's delighted squeal.

"Oh, wonderful!" she cried. "I'll go tell the Gems, and we'll set up a playdate between you two."

Pearl moved closer to Ronnie Anne and crouched down, meeting her eye level. "Speaking of which, Ronnie Anne, what's your favorite kind of tea?"

"I... um..." Ronnie Anne's cheeks flared up and her eyes darted off to the side.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she asked, holding her hand out for a shake. "My name is Pearl. It's a pleasure to meet you."

After a moment of hesitation, Ronnie Anne took Pearl's hand and shook it. Her ivory skin had a smooth, glassy texture, lacking the rubberiness and elasticity of typical human skin. At this point, Ronnie Anne also noticed the large, bulbous white gemstone that seemed to be embedded in Pearl's forehead. She could only wonder what that was; it was too big to be a piercing, and too thick to be a tattoo. Still, she figured it would be rude to ask about it, so she just held her tongue.

"So, what do you say?" asked Steven, turning towards Ronnie Anne. "I'll meet you on the beach tomorrow at two, and then I'll take you back to the temple and give you the grand tour! Sound good?"

"...uh..."

Ronnie Anne scratched the back of her head. As far as she knew, she didn't have any prior commitments for tomorrow. She could have gotten away with saying, "I'm busy" or coming up with some other vague excuse, but before she could open her mouth, Steven's earlier words echoed in her head:

"Besides, wouldn't you rather have a friend? Wouldn't you rather have someone to play with and go on adventures with?"

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She was lonely. She did want a friend. Besides, how bad could one afternoon be?

"Sure, that sounds great," she said. "And Pearl?"

Pearl looked down at her. "Yes, Ronnie?"

"I... I like oolong."

Pearl let out a light, lilting laugh. "What exquisite taste!" she remarked. "The plot thickens!"

She draped her hand over Steven's shoulder and started leading him away. "We've got a mission to go on now, but we'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice day!"

The two of them each gave Ronnie Anne a wide smile and a wave goodbye, which she returned in kind. As she watched them depart, a dozen different questions ran through her mind. Who was that Pearl lady? If she was Steven's guardian, then why did he call her "Pearl" instead of "Mom"? And if she wasn't, then who was she? Was she a nanny? A distant cousin? A fairy godmother?

And seriously, "playdate"? Ronnie Anne had to resist the urge to cringe when she heard that word. "Playdates" were for little kids, not tweens on the cusp of puberty.

And what was with that big gemstone on her head? And why did she call their family "the Gems"? And why did Steven call his house "the temple"?

Just what in the world was Ronnie Anne getting herself into?