Lincoln approached the second Multiverse Lunch with far less apprehension than he had during the first, mostly because he didn't have anything to report. Ronnie Anne was the only one who used the goggles since yesterday, so the onus was on her to volunteer information. That, and Ronnie Anne looked like her mood was improving. She greeted him in the schoolyard that morning with a peck on the cheek and a smile, the latter of which endured for the majority of the day. Whatever was bothering her last Sunday night seemed to have dissipated.

As they joined hands and headed down to the cafeteria, Lincoln couldn't help but notice how gently she held him. Typically, her grip was crushing and vice-like, making him feel less like a lovestruck boy walking with his girlfriend and more like a naughty child getting dragged to the time-out corner by an incensed teacher. Today, though, her grip felt different- firm and strong, but not crushingly so.

He was tempted to comment on her change in disposition ("Boy, someone's in a good mood today!") but he feared that he'd make her feel embarrassed and self-conscious if he pointed it out. Since the beginning of the year, she had earned a reputation as the toughest girl- nay, student - in their grade. If she thought she was getting soft, she'd probably double down on the roughness. So, for the time being, Lincoln just held his tongue.

"So," he said as the two of them took their seats at the table, "anything new in Beach City?"

Ronnie Anne scratched the back of her head. "Well, I met Steven again. He was on the beach playing a ukulele."

"A ukulele?" Lincoln said with a snicker. "Wow, he really is a dork."

"Oh, you have no idea," said Ronnie Anne, her voice taking on a haughty tone. "He's like a 50's sitcom character."

She then stood up from her chair, opened her eyes as wide as they could go, put on the goofiest grin she could manage and started doing an awkward little shuffling jig. "Golly gosh, gee willikers, let's go on an adventure, guys!"

Ronnie Anne's display caused Lincoln to collapse face-first onto the table in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Before continuing, she stood by and waited for Lincoln to regain his composure.

"You done?" she asked with a smirk.

"Y-yeah," said Lincoln, choking out a few more guffaws before sitting back up. "Go on."

"So, anyway, while we were talking, this lady came up to us to check on Steven."

"His mom?"

"That's what I thought at first, but Steven didn't call her 'Mom'. He called her 'Pearl'."

Lincoln's eyes narrowed with intrique. "That is a little strange," he said. "You think maybe she's, like, his big sister or something?"

"Maybe. Or a nanny. He invited me over to tea, so I'm sure it'll all be sorted out next time it's my turn."

She reached into her backpack, whipped out the goggles and shoved them across the table towards Lincoln. "But tonight it's yours. Lemme know how that goes."

"Will do!" said Lincoln, giving her a cheery grin.

But the joy he was feeling during the meeting started to dissolve as they left the cafeteria and parted ways, walking to their respective classes. A pang of disease formed in the pit of Lincoln's stomach, and it swelled larger and larger as the day went on. In the back of his mind, he knew that he'd have to bring up Connie tomorrow at lunch. It was practially a given that his third venture through the multiverse would involve Connie in some way. What else could he do? Lie? Make something up? Talk about some aspect of the session that wasn't Connie-related?

He was only able to quell his worry by continuously telling himself that he'd figure something out. He had at least eighteen hours to think about it, after all. Surely there'd be some way to talk about his session without making her jealous.

As he hopped into the family van, he briefly felt inclined to ask Lori for advice, but he decided against it. This whole multiverse business was far too complicated to explain in just one car ride. Besides, Lori had to concentrate on the road, and she wouldn't be able to do that with Lincoln yammering in her ear about scientific theories that he barely understood himself.

No, as far as he was concerned, this was something he'd have to figure out himself- and he would. It's not like he was any stranger to finding his way out of sticky situations. In the past year alone, he made the entire town furious at him for giving out unhelpful romantic advice, he got completely lost in the woods during a camping trip with Clyde, and he got exiled from his own house when his family was convinced he was a bad luck charm. But every time, he was able to come up with a solution. Why should this be any different?

With that in mind, as soon as the van pulled into the parking lot, he bade Lori goodbye, hopped up to his room, and strapped on the goggles, eager to see what would unfold.


12:30 p.m.

September 15

Royal Woods Academy Cafeteria

"So you're gonna do it?" asked Clyde.

"Um...y-yeah," Lincoln choked out, jittering with anxiety. "Yeah, I definitely am."

"Then you might wanna do something about that."

Clyde pointed towards Lincoln's armpits, which were both soaked with sweat to the point of translucence.

"Oh, geez," groaned Lincoln, his cheeks flushing red.

"You really should be using a stronger antiperspirant," said Clyde, wagging his finger. "For now, though, you can just borrow my hoodie. That'll hide the stains, at least."

He slipped out of his heavy cotton hoodie and handed it to Lincoln, who promptly threw it on and zipped it up. "Thanks, Clyde. You're a lifesaver."

"Any time, amigo. Now get out there and win that girl's heart!"

"I will!" exclaimed Lincoln. "...as soon as I find her."

Lincoln turned away from Clyde and started scanning his eyes across the cafeteria. Sure enough, he found her just a few meters away, seated alone at a small circular table with her nose stuck in a book. On the table in front of her was an emptied-out tupperware container next to a plate of assorted vegetables and grains. Occasionally, she'd put her book down and take a bite or two from the salad, before going back to reading.

Well, here goes.

After gathering his belongings and getting a fist bump from Clyde for good luck, pushed himself up from his table and began to approach Connie's. During the walk over, he felt as if he had iron weights attached to both his feet, which only grew heavier the closer he got. He forced his body to trudge on and power through, telling himself that both Clyde and Lucy were counting on him to succeed.

Connie, naturally, was too absorbed in her reading to notice Lincoln approaching. He only managed to get her attention once he got to the table and collapsed into the seat opposite hers with a grunt.

"O-oh!" she yelped, instinctively snapping her book shut. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"No worries," Lincoln said with a shake of his head. "I was just wondering if I could, you know, join you for lunch. Is that okay?"

"Um, s-sure, I guess," said Connie, her voice trembling. "Just give me a moment."

Lincoln's body tensed up and locked itself into place. She looked just as timid and fragile as she did the day before. Despite Lucy's advice to act natural and treat her like a friend, his instincts were telling him that one wrong move would cause her to shatter like a porcelain doll.

She ducked under the table, rummaged a bit through her backpack, and pulled out a thin slip of laminated paper. She then picked up her book, flipped back to the page she was on and slipped the paper in between the pages, marking her place.

Well, I got her to put her book away, Lincoln thought, as the tension in his body started to dissipate. That's a start.

"You're Connie, right?" he asked.

Connie nodded sharply, causing her glasses to jostle about. "Yes, that's me. And you're... Lincoln?"

Lincoln's heart rate accelerated. She remembers my name!

"That's right!" he said, a little louder than he intended. Connie flinched at the sudden spike in volume.

"Oh, s-sorry," he muttered, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "I'm just a little surprised you remembered me."

Connie's cheeks flared up. "I'm pretty good with names," she said, twiddling her fingers. "Tell me once and I rarely forget."

"Must be a neat skill to have."

"Mm-hmm."

A knot started to form in Lincoln's stomach, which only grew tighter when he saw her eyes wander back towards her food. He knew all too well that a grunt of "Mm-hmm" was a social dead end, a hard stop to any momentum that the conversation had. He had to kickstart it with a new subject, and fast.

"I see you brought your own lunch," he said, acting on the first instinct that came to his head.

"Oh, yeah," said Connie, who was just about to pick her fork back up. "It's nothing special; just quinoa salad with kale and chickpeas. My mom doesn't trust the school to keep me nourished, so she insists on making my lunches herself."

"Lucky you," Lincoln said with a chuckle.

Connie raised an eyebrow at him. "Lucky how?"

Lincoln's stomach tightened up again. Oh, no. Did I offend her?

His first instinct was to think of some verbal backpedal; he could claim that he was only kidding, or being sarcastic, or that he meant to say something else. But just as he was about to open his mouth, Lucy's advice echoed in his head:

"She'll know if you're trying to be someone you're not. We introverts have to spend our whole lives surrounded by fakers, and we know one when we see one."

If she was right, there was no way he'd get away with any of that. With no other options, he spouted off exactly what was on his mind, unfiltered.

"Well, first of all, she's not wrong about the food here," he said. "It's pretty awful."

He motioned towards the tray of food in front of him (which he had barely touched since he sat down), consisting of soggy macaroni, mushed peas and chicken that tasted like wood.

"No kidding," said Connie, wincing at the unappetizing spread. "But then why do you put up with it? Couldn't you ask your parents to make your lunches?"

Lincoln guffawed, incredulous at the very idea. "Not gonna happen. They're way too overworked as it is. Most days, I'm lucky if I can even get them to help me with my homework."

Connie slumped into her chair, shrinking away from Lincoln. "I-I'm sorry," she said, her bespectacled eyes looking as though they were about to tear up. "I had no idea."

Lincoln's jaw went slack. All he said was that his parents were too busy to make him lunch. The way she reacted, you'd think he just told her his parents were dead, or that they were abusive monsters who greeted him every morning with a vicious beating. How timid could one person be?

"It's okay, it's okay," he said, once he found his voice again. "I mean, life's not always perfect. Sometimes you just gotta make do with what you have."

"I guess..." muttered Connie. Her voice trailed off, as if there was supposed to be a second part of that sentence that died in her throat before it escaped her lips.

Dang it. Another dead end. Let's see... what else could we talk about?

Lincoln's eyes gravitated towards the closed book right beside Connie's lunch. She mentioned the previous day that she enjoyed reading; in fact, it was only one of the bits of information she was willing to volunteer; so maybe she'd be eager to talk about her book. It was worth a shot.

"So what's that you're reading?" he asked.

"Oh, that?" Connie sat back up, straightened out her posture and re-established eye contact with Lincoln. "That's just the latest Dogcopter book."

Dogcopter? That didn't sound like any book series Lincoln had heard of. He was expecting her to be reading something highly sophisticated and literate, well above their grade level- and "Dogcopter" sounded like anything but.

"Never heard of it. What's it about?"

Connie's timid eyes burst open. "You've never heard of Dogcopter?!"

Lincoln gulped, fearing that he might have blown his chances with that one line. "Um, should I have?" he asked, scratching the back of his head.

"Lincoln, it's the coolest book series ever," she gushed, breaking into a smile. "It's about a cyborg dog-helicopter hybrid who fights evil with military-grade explosives!"

Lincoln's face lit up. "That sounds awesome!"

"And it gets even better," Connie said. "In the third book, he faces off against an army of rogue robots, who gain sentience and start rebelling against their human creators. But Dogcopter's part mechanical too, so the whole time he struggles to decide which side he should truly be fighting for."

At this point, Lincoln was practically trembling with excitement. Connie's words caused a montage of bombastic war scenes to start blossoming in Lincoln's imagination: a flying robotic dog darting across the sky, weaving through bullets and lasers while returning fire with clusters of missiles.

"You're telling me that I had to blow my summer reading Catcher in the Rye and Johnny Tremain when I could have been reading this?!"

Connie giggled. "I mean, it's not exactly classic literature. I wouldn't count on it showing up on any summer reading list. But I would count on it rocking your socks off."

"I'll bet," said Lincoln. "So where can I find it?"

"Actually, I've got the first book right here in my bag. Here, lemme get it!"

She unzipped her bag, dug to the bottom, and dislodged a shimmering paperback book from the clutter. On the cover, the word "DOGCOPTER" was emblazoned at the top in platinum letters. In the center was a watercolor illustration of a gray dachshund with a thin propeller sticking out of its back, its body stiff as a board and its beady eyes pointed directly forward.

"It starts off a little slow, but it really picks up by the second act," she said as she handed Lincoln the book. "You'll love it, I promise!"

Upon seeing Connie's beaming face, accompanied by those glittering eyes that shone right through her glasses, Lincoln suddenly felt fifty pounds lighter. He did it. He would have jumped for joy if he wasn't worried about looking like a spaz in front of his crush. Not only had he kindled a new friendship, but they immediately found something cool to bond over. He never would have imagined that his first meeting with Connie would go this well.

He spent the next few classes sneaking peeks at the Dogcopter book while evading the watchful eyes of his teachers. He knew how to slack off discreetly, while paying just enough attention to answer any questions that came his way; it was a skill he picked up after years of sneaking comics into school. As he read, he made a mental note of every scene, every line of dialogue he'd be gushing about to Connie during tomorrow's lunch.

This looked to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship...


...for one Lincoln, anyway.

Lincoln had to admit he was feeling a bit envious of his alternate self. Alt-Lincoln was hitting it off with a cute little bookworm, while he was stuck trying to figure out how to explain the situation to his hot-blooded girlfriend.

Geez Louise, how the heck am I going to spin this?