"Was I the only one who freaked out when Jillian turned out to be Ace's long lost daughter?" he heard Clyde excitedly exclaim through the walkie talkie.

"I know! I didn't see that coming!" Lincoln giddily replied.

"It's a testament to Bill Buck and his page turning suspense!"

"Tell me about it!"

Through the device, Lincoln could make out some rustling amongst the static. He figured that he would give his friend some time to resolve whatever the issue was (disconnection, dead batteries, one of his cats getting loose). Although it lasted for over a minute, it eventually stabilized.

"Sorry Lincoln, I gotta go. Nepurrtiti's not feeling well so I have to go take care of her," he said, regretful to leave his friend before getting everything about the latest issue off his chest.

"Aww! Can't you talk and do that at the same time?"

"No can do. My little kitty needs my full attention right now. It is the best way for her to get up and running again."

"Okay," Lincoln said reluctantly. He admitted that Nepurrtiti was pretty cute for a young kitten. Sure she may have been all groggy and stuff from being sick, but he also knew Clyde to be quite the provider, always ready to delve himself into the first needy patient he finds, "Tell her I said 'hi' and remember, this talk isn't over."

"Thanks man. And trust me, I'm right there with you. See you later!"

"You too!"

The static cut out and Lincoln rested the walkie talkie on his night stand and sprawled his body across his bed. With nothing better to do, he stared at his plain white ceiling. It felt like one of those moments, where the House slowed down (other than night time, of course). He lied awake and, for a fleeting instant, had his mind cleared of any crazy plans, ideas, or fantasies. Lincoln was one with the bed, with the air, with the ceiling, and with whatever else his Dad liked to reminisce from his childhood.

And then the door opened. His head perked up and saw his little sister Lola trot in.

"Hi Lincoln," she said with a sickingly sweet voice, stretching her arms and locking her hands with her eyelashes twinkling, "I need a special big brother to be the butler for my tea party."

"But I already was your butler this morning," Lincoln complained. Indeed, it was early afternoon and Lola woke him up specifically to be in a tea party. And he had been a butler for her every day for over a year. So what made this so special? Was Lola just feeling extra entitled today?

"Matilda says otherwise," she replied as she held up one of her dolls, "she had a very rough morning because her car broke down and then George dumped her!" she then hugged it and stroked its black hair, "'Shh, it'll be alright, dearie,'" she then shot to Lincoln, "All she needs now is an extra special tea party to make her feel all better. So do it!"

Typical Lola. Lincoln knew all too well the joy of bringing action figures to life, having done it a lot himself when he was her age. Even now, he sometimes confided in his stuffed bunny Bun Bun (but he wouldn't want to be caught alive doing that). Though he did find it time-consuming that he was always the one assigned to the thankless task. Sometimes, he was even met by insults and hurling pieces of plastic. So much for being 'best big brother ever'.

"Why can't you get someone else to do it?" Lincoln asked, tossing over on his side. Lola, though, was noticeably unimpressed.

"What kind of bonehead question is that!" Lola scoffed, folding her arms and furrowing her brow. Lincoln was left confused.

"What do you mean?"

Lola was tempted to do a face palm right there, but opted instead to tighten her grip, paying no mind to the doll in one of her fists.

"Well since you've never seen any quality good television," Lola started, encouraging Lincoln to pour through the countless times his little sister had forced him to watch all her favorite shows on the Bizney Channel, "I'll have you know that there's no such thing as girl butlers. They're maids!" she insisted, trying her best to choke out a hissing sound from the blockish word. Lincoln could only watch as her sister's face scrunched up while talking, "And I will not have a tea party where me and Matilda have to say 'Maid, I need more tea!', 'Maid, I want you to dance for me!'", she then ran up to Lincoln and gripped his shirt, "Maid! Maid! Maid!"

Shamefully, Lincoln was intimidated by her. Lola had this stubbornness and fire when it came to making sure that everything went her way. But as those eyes drilled into his head, Lincoln briefly remembered that he was the big brother, the one that tries to be the voice of reason, a mediator.

"You don't have to call them maid. There are girl butlers, so you could just call-"

"No! It's not the same!" Lola screamed, yanking at his shirt even more. At this point, Lincoln's built up courage was dampened. With the intensity Lola was moving and screeching at, he worried that she was gonna start crying. And when Lola cried, the person that caused it never saw the end of it. For that reason, he sighed.

"Alright, we'll have a tea party," he said, his voice devoid of interest.

At the speed of light, Lola's face transformed into the same graceful, too sweet to believe demeanor that she had at the start of this altercation.

"Great. You have exactly five minutes to change into your uniform," she said before prancing out the room with her doll.

Staring at his open door, Lincoln groaned over what awaited him. He had a bad feeling over where this would end up; no matter how hard he tried to appease his little sister, most times it was nigh impossible to achieve. Even when he did exactly what she wanted, she usually found something to complain about (his bow tie was off center, the tray "wobbled" in his hand, her seat wasn't cushy enough). But he concluded that raising his own voice would make everything worse, so he got up and promptly strapped on the confining uniform.

With the suit firmly in place, he took a deep breath and made the short walk to the twins' room, all while maintaining a professional grin. He entered to see an impatient Lola tapping her fingers on the pink plastic table. Lincoln shot upward, trying to be as courteous as possible.

"It's abut time you showed up," she said, holding back her temper, "Now, me and Matilda want some tea."

Eyeing the tray with a pot and two cups in the corner, he approached and grabbed it with both his gloved hands. If there was one thing he was thankful for, it was that there was no actual tea in the pot to weigh it down. Even with his in athletic form, he easily transferred the tray over and placed it down on the table.

Next was the "fun" part. He bowed down and slowly leaned the pot's neck into the cup closer to the inanimate doll. It was a little embarrassing having to serve a non-existent person and it hurt his back being in that position. After several seconds of "pouring", he lowered the pot before leaning back up.

"That's it?!" Lola said incredulously while his back was still hunched. His downward head shot to Lola, "She wants more!"

Lincoln reluctantly leaned in once more and poured more "tea" into the empty cup. With his posture still cramped forward, he shuffled to the other side of the table to fill Lola's cup. He kept track of the seconds he held the pouring pose, making sure that enough "tea" ended up in that cup; the last thing he wanted was for Lola to keep whining, especially when he was offering an extra party free of charge.

"Now!" Lola proclaimed as she grabbed her cup, "me and Matilda want music. So sing!"

Lincoln was confused. In all of his butler experience, he had never been pressed to sing. At most, he would merely "dance" (flopping his body around to silence's unhelpful meter, hoping it would be kinetic enough to keep Lola's young mind preoccupied). But, the princess and her friend have spoken.

Now, he had to think of something to sing. What song did he know all the words to and that he knew her sister would like? It took a moment's thought until he reached a conclusion.

"Out in the ocean," he sang in his best effort to sound romantic, complete with swaying and fancy accents upon vowels.

"I feel your love.

Out here where there is no mall

The air is full of turtle doves."

Lola smiled and tried to conceal a giggle. It was working. Lincoln knew their mutual love of Dream Boat would come in handy. He did think the theme song was cheesy and overly manufactured, but it had a knack of hooking a six year old's attention.

He kept going, blowing through each cringy lyric with a suave smile and an emphatic push forward. Lincoln was graceful like a flamingo in a pond, landing each twirl and jump on the balls of his feet (the carpet muffled much of the sound). As he performed, a tempting thought poked its head out. He figured that if he kept upping the ante, he blew the princess off her plastic chair, she would relieve him of his servile duties. Perhaps he could pull up a nice comic or take a nap. Those options got him excited and the image nearly threw him off.

He stumbled on one of the landings, but he caught his footing before teetering over. Just in time for the final note, which he belted out until he was out of breath.

Lincoln cramped forward to get some air. His rib cage tinged, compelling his arms to hug it. His inhales were more like gasps as she struggled to muster enough energy to get it in. It was like breathing through a straw. It took him several seconds to register the applause. He lifted his head to see Lola cheerfully clapping.

"Yay! That was so good!" she said.

A smile on her face, Lincoln was proud. He had finally made her sister's day just from putting on a show for her. Hasn't failed yet.

"Do it again!"

Still hasn't failed.

At last it was over. Lola and Matilda had been fed (however a doll could have), both of them were happy, and Lincoln was tired. Even after all these gigs, he couldn't sing and dance that theme song six times in a row without breaking a sweat. In any case, Lola was happy.

"Thank you Linky! You're the best," Lola cheered as she ran up and hugged her big brother. It felt nice, a burst of joy surged through his body and made him smile along with his sister.

"No problem, my princess," he said gently, looking down on her golden hair, "I'm guessing Matilda's feeling better."

Lola then stood back and held up her prized doll. Lincoln stared at the eternal smile plastered on that plastic face.

"Yes she is! She forgot all about that meanie George!"

"I'm glad to hear that," Lincoln replied.

An idea suddenly emerged. It was only a matter of time before that imagination kicked back in. The timing seemed perfect. Lola didn't get mad as often, he put on a good show, and both of them were in high spirits. So why not?

"So Lola," Lincoln said, revealing his chipped tooth in his grin, "I was wondering if you'd like to read comics with me."

"No. I wanna play with Matilda some more," Lola said as she hugged the doll in her hands.

Well, she refused. What was he gonna do about it? He felt lucky that Lola didn't get mad or annoyed. Was he really about to test that unexpected patience? Besides, his princess had a fun time and he didn't want to ruin that.

Sighing, he slipped out of the room. As she made the short walk to his bed, he undressed. The bow tie was a pain, given the tight knot, however a sharp tug did the trick. Next was the jacket, which practically fell off. The dress shirt was just time consuming with all those wretched buttons. After that, it was easy going with the pants and the shoes easily sliding off. Sure all the articles ended up on his floor, but he didn't mind.

That was one perk of having his own room. The only judge for cleanliness was himself; if he was happy, that was all that mattered.

As he triumphantly fell on his mattress, he sank into its soft, comfy material. He liked hearing the screechy springs rock as his body shifted about. There was nothing quite like it.

He should have done this more often.

That thought felt nice to Lincoln. Why didn't he lie on this bed more?

The answer didn't usually jump out in the first few minutes of relaxation. It didn't lurch in the first twenty pages of the new Ace Savvy comic. And he never listened to it the first half hour of playing video games. On the surface, Lincoln thought his life was the best it could be, a blast unmatched by any other home in the world. What wasn't there to love?

At that particular moment, Lincoln didn't feel like doing anything. There were plenty of options, but he was content to just absorb his surroundings. That tea party earlier was not gonna disrupt that lull rhythm. He preferred to spot subtle markers on the ceiling (tile patterns, dents, crayon lines). The air had its nuances, whether it was the spurts of nature entering through the tiny window, subtle odors emanating from mysterious substances lurking in the room, or the complicated scent snaking in from the hallway. The blowing air vent was a gentle stabilizer, a provider of peace in his safe little room. It was like Lincoln had reached a new plane of existence. It was remarkably how tranquil the room had become.

Why didn't he do this more often?

Night had fallen. His stomach was full from dinner. All his homework was done. His mind wouldn't stop working.

Lincoln couldn't stop thinking about the tea party; whenever he tried to move on from it, the image of him dancing over and over again somehow resurfaced. Those terrible lyrics reverberated in his head (not to mention his obnoxious singing voice). He couldn't believe he got roped into all that nonsense.

And then when he asked Lola to do something he wanted, she had the audacity to say no. After all he had done for her.

"You gotta man up!" he told himself.

But how? Lola was such a good persuader with her puppy eyes, her iron lungs, and an ego that made the Sun look like the last remaining pea on his plate. Maybe she should become a queen and boss her subjects around. She clearly had the chops for it.

He regretted keeping the light on. Lying on the bed, its white blast was blinding. Besides, he figured it was a waste of electricity if he didn't want it on. Lincoln made the reluctant journey of trudging a whole five feet to the switch and flipping it off. Instantly, any contours made from color and shades vanished, blanketing all of the landscape in a cozy black coat. Since he was familiar with the layout of his own room, it was easy maneuvering his way back into that same resting position on his bed.

Having rid himself of the visual distractions, his ears tuned into the soft roaring permeating from the rest of the floor. Ten contented souls going about their evening the best way they know how. Texting, sewing, rehearsing, performing, playing, writing, digging, refining, studying, and babbling. Some of them were bound to squeeze in some talking as well, whether it's a quick checkup or a funny story from the day.

And then there was himself, laying and listening. It may be refreshing at times, but even he gave in after a while. It did get kinda boring doing things by himself. What good was it playing video games when Player Two had to be picked up at 5? What certainty came with discussing Ace Savvy when Nepurrtiti suddenly fell under the weather? And what was the point of singing and dancing through an unscheduled tea party when Lola couldn't even be bothered to share time with him on his own terms?

The uniform returned to his mind. Lincoln cringed as he thought of that pressed black jacket always waiting for him when the time called, that bow tie that was far easier to put on than to take off, and those pants that felt tight around his thighs.

Opening up was a disaster waiting to happen. Right before his eyes, he envisioned poor little Lola crying to the others. They all barge into his pathetic fortress and egg him.

"How could you do such a thing to precious Lola?"

"He's your little sister Lincoln!"

"You're eleven years old! Act your age, little man!"

His silly little comics would have been ridiculed, especially the fact that he liked it. Girl after girl would have barged in his face until he apologized. That apology would have been the moment he realized he made that terrible mistake. Why go through all that agony and anger when he could have just seen the end result right there?

Swallowing his feelings rarely failed him, especially when someone in this House felt like telling the truth. It was bound to happen to someone.

Lincoln scoffed at the notion that he could have enjoyed this darkness. This was why he didn't want it more often.

"Why don't you stop being a baby and do something with one of them?"

That was a fair question that deserved an answer.

First there was Lori. He could have gone to her for girl advice, sure, but he wasn't in need of help right now. Plus, he didn't feel like listening to her gush about her Bobby Boo Boo Bear at nine in the evening.

Leni wasn't one to give long-winded speeches the same way Lori did. Instead, it was a different problem. Lincoln couldn't think of anything interesting he could talk with her about. It was all about clothes. Besides, she was probably too deep into her next problem to even look him in the eye.

Luna, Luan, and Lynn were one in the same. He could have see himself on his feet this late in the evening having to do something strenuous. His voice wasn't nearly warmed up enough to belt out anything from SMOOCH's discography. His face wasn't ready for another pie in the face he was even less willing to haul himself to the bathroom washing off every last crumb. And he didn't even wanna think of what Lynn had in store for him.

Then there was Lucy. She must be going through the same thing as he was. Lethargic, cynical, looking for something to sulk about. Perhaps she could have been a sounding board for whatever it was he was feeling. Or she would have just read another one of her poems or ask for a word that rhymes with "dark".

Lola already had her time today, but not necessarily Lana. With her, nighttime was toy time. Toys were fun and could have eased him mind. At least until Lola found something to protest about. And from there, he would have been the one responsible for mending the conflict. It was too late for him to deal with their yelling or their scratching. He was just tired.

Lisa didn't have time for petty emotions, much less those from someone else. If he went to her, she would have just thrown a book at him and called it "fascinating". It probably would have been about something really complicated using words too big for anyone to understand. Or she would have merely ignored him.

And finally there was Lily, the baby. Of course, Lincoln could have just spent some quality time cooing her, entertaining her by dangling her rattle, talking in that silly high-pitched voice, and told her the world was a magical place where everything was clear cut and could be easily resolved. But that was pointless, he figured. She wasn't even gonna remember it the next morning anyway.

It was aggravating, really. He was someone that just lied around, not actually willing to step in when he was on his own time. He hated it, but he was just so tired that he didn't feel like getting up. All of his energy had been spent by doing all the stuff he usually did, whether it was fulfilling his obligatory duties to his sisters or finishing his homework.

Lincoln rolled over in his bed, hoping to stir some life in his weak body. And that noise just kept murmuring in his ear, buzzing non-stop. His connections were all so far away, never there to help him unless he made the trek down the hall.

Right now it was black and scary and painful.

"Why can't I have a roommate? I want a brother!"

Lincoln paused all motion. The springs jiggled a little more before resting, leaving the roaring as the only audible noise.

So that's what this dumb thing was about? The thought disgusted Lincoln. He saw ten angry, hurt faces crying, frowning, punching from the stunning revelation. He slapped himself for being not only selfish but forgetful as well.

He reminded himself of that horrible nightmare he had a while back. The images of his "brothers" farting, shoving, and egging him at every possibility haunted him. Lincoln shivered at those memories that were conjured up in his messed up mind. Yet they were true. After all, he was a boy. Boys had wicked thoughts that needed to be whipped. Boys had vices that needed to be corrected. Boys had punishments that needed to be received. Girls didn't have time to deal with boy problems. Lincoln was a boy.

"You're lucky you have what you have."

But even as that made sense to him, he still felt empty. The temptation of having a companion just like him compelled him. The details didn't matter. Maybe if Lola had two boys to choose from, he wouldn't always be the butler. Maybe if his brother got into sports, Lincoln wouldn't be pitted as Lynn's sparing partner. Perhaps this person could have developed a stronger sense of humor, sparing Lincoln from those obnoxious pranks. Or better, Lincoln could have opened his eyes to the wonders of Ace Savvy and The possibilities were endless.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so tired. Lincoln had a new mission. He was gonna march down there and demand a brother at this instant. Nothing else mattered, not even hindsight. Lincoln jumped out of bed and flung the door open.

The noise was even louder from within the hallway (so much for closed doors). He heard a glimmer, something that froze him on his feet. For a fleeting moment, his heart slowed down and his head relaxed. It felt relieving. Lincoln turned to the twins' door and thought about all the great things he had done for them and all the times they hugged him, thanked him for it. Was he asking too much of them in return?

"Don't they ask too much to begin with?"

They were kids after all. When he was six years old, he was just like them. He wanted stuff too. He wanted action figures, video games, attention, and gratitude. Even now, Lincoln still needed those things.

But still, he remembered that time when he and the others experimented with different roommates. Once Lisa stepped in, all of the new arrangements worked out swimmingly. Well...almost all of them. The only pairing that didn't work was himself and Lily.

Of course Lily didn't mind. She was too young to be bothered by socializing or fitting in. It wasn't like Lily had any specific interests that made her able to agree or disagree. Instead, Lincoln was left largely in a babysitter position. Rather than having someone to confide in or hang out, he was left changing diapers and singing lullabies. Once again, he was doing all of the heavy lifting while everyone else got to bond in ways he never thought imaginable.

How was it that Leni and Lynn could have clicked so well when they seemed to have nothing in common? Luan (queen of comedy) and Lucy (lurker of darkness) smiling and chatting it up was unthinkable until he saw both of them in a friendly poker match. It was like they were mocking him, as if they were putting on a show of solidarity just to piece him out. Sure they came to their senses, but it was just baffling.

Sure Lincoln thanked them for agreeing to get along better, but all that did was bring things back to normal. He was still only one set up against ten. Was that it? Did Luan and Lucy have that bond just from their shared sisterhood? Lincoln started thinking this House to be little more than a battlefield, where one needed friends just to survive.

"Well I'm gonna get one."

So he was decided. Lincoln marched downstairs, his mind quickly crafting a statement to be delivered. The time was now. He knew he had to use just the right words and conjure up just the right images to make it happen. It was about time Mom and Dad finally got it.

And there they were at the dining room table. Interesting location, but it only shortened the walk. Besides, the presence of solid chairs and a sturdy table only made the meeting feel more official.

"Mom. Dad," Lincoln said as he took a seat beside them.

"Hey, son," Lynn Sr. said, smiling at the sight of one of his beloved children, "what do you need?"

Looking over at his mother, she also appeared quite happy and calm. Perfect. Just how he wanted his audience to be.

"Mom, Dad," he repeated himself, smirking a little, "For years, this House has had a shortage of," he then gestured to his Dad, "men. Baby after baby has been born and just when you thought there was gonna be another boy, bam!"

He then slapped his hand against the hard table. Lincoln then squeezed it as his palm fizzled with pain. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so forceful. Still, he smiled and continued.

"Another girl. Now I'm sure that another boy would be welcomed around here. Dad would have another person to play catch with, Mom would have another hero in her story, and me," he then pointed both his hands in towards his chest, "I would finally have a roommate."

Both his parents glanced at each other while their only son continued.

"Now we all have something to gain from this," he said, making sure his lips were contorted into a suave smile, "and with that, I beg of you. I want a brother."

Finished with his pitch, Lincoln locked his hands together as he awaited a response. His parents looked at each other again, darting nervous glances at one another. Ten seconds elapsed of nothing but this. By that point, Lincoln was starting to get nervous. Even with his confidence in his speaking ability, the reception wasn't turning out as hoped. Eventually, it was Lynn Sr. that turned to Rita to talk.

"Lincoln, honey," she said, her voice filled with concern. This wasn't good, "are you okay?"

A question. Nothing like a quick answer to set that aside.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Rita asked again.

"Of course. I mean, what makes you say that?"

But in the back of his head, this is just what Lincoln expected. He had a conviction, an expectation that this wasn't gonna work. He felt a bead of sweat break free from his forehead. At the moment, it was a compact bullet just sitting idly on his skin. All he could hope for was that it didn't slide. To maintain his cool, he focused on his Dad, who Mom was now looking at.

"Son," he said reluctantly, facing him, "we've been through this before. We've decided that eleven kids is a good number. If we had another, it would cut deep in our savings, which means it'll be harder to put food on this table or to send you all to college."

Here it went. It was the same speech playing again. Lincoln didn't want to accept it. He wanted to make a comeback, tell them that it wasn't as bad as they made it sound. But just then, that sweat drop rolled down, forming a stream.

"We can make it work," he said off the cuff, "he can sleep in my room and we can share everything. Heck, we'll even share a bed! I can split my meals with him so that it doesn't cost as much. He won't cost you a dime!"

Lincoln's eyes widened as he desperately sought that sweet reassurance, that victory that rightfully belonged to him. Where was it? Why weren't either of his parents smiling or even surprised?

"That's very kind of you, honey," Rita said, briefly smiling. Then it fell, "but what about the medical bills? Check ups, shots, Lord forbid he got sick? Costs creep up in ways you don't expect and sadly, you can't do anything about that. Not to mention the non-money stuff. Dad and I would have to divide our time even thinner, meaning it'll take even longer for us to get to you when you need us."

Only now did he remember. Lincoln realized deep down that having a twelfth kid in the House was easier said than done, that he needed to make new sacrifices that may not have been realistic. As much as he told himself that the costs were reasonable, Lincoln was forced to recognize that as a kid (and a human being) that he only had so much to give. Just look at his sisters.

"And even if we decided to have another child," Lynn Sr. said solemnly, "it might be a girl."

He was trapped. In all of his foresight, that was one possibility he neglected to consider. How stupid of him to overlook the simple fact of probability, that it never believed any given outcome was due after an arbitrary number of tries. Did he really assume that the next kid was automatically gonna be another boy? Maybe if they got him through adoption.

"Is there something wrong? You don't feel like yourself," Rita said, noticing her son sweating even more. Lincoln barely noticed the accumulating streams on forehead and cheeks. All he wanted was for this to work.

"I'm sorry," he said, his clenched hands now shaking, "I'm just upset right now...I know that you all love me and do your very best to make me feel included," he then sighed regretfully, "but sometimes I can't help it. There are days where I would do anything to have a brother so I can have someone that likes the same things I like. All my sisters have roommates and...well, sometimes I wish I had one too."

He brought one of his hands to his face and wiped some of the sweat off. He knew it was over. The dream of a male companion was quickly being pushed back in the dark closet.

"Son, we know it's not easy for you," Lynn Sr. responded, "your Mom and I are always looking out for you and your sisters. We may not always take action right away, but that doesn't mean we aren't thinking about you."

As his father spoke, Lincoln puckered his lips, embarrassed that he had gotten to the point where he needed to hear this.

"I'm sorry," Lincoln repeated. This time, his head dropped, leaving only the table's surface in his vision, "I know you guys work really hard for all of us. A-And I feel bad because I feel like I should already know this. I know I should just stop beating myself up and accept my life for what it is. But," his voice lowered.

His parents leaned in as they nervously anticipated his response.

"There are just some days where I just feel like I need a brother. I know it's not gonna happen and I know I should look to my sisters for support...but it's just a feeling," he then clenched his chest, "and it's something I feel. I'm sorry if that makes me stupid or selfish..."

With his head still down he felt something touch his hand. Looking up, he saw his father reached his arm out to him. He bore a small smile on his face.

"It's okay," he said softly, matching the way his hand felt, "It's okay to get upset sometimes. It's a part of being human."

Lincoln didn't think of himself as someone that could be excused for showing his emotions like that. It felt odd, even though others took it for granted. During all this time, he assumed he needed to hold himself to a higher standard just to survive. To be relieved of that was...nice.

"The important to remember is that no matter what it is you're going through, you can always come to your family for help. Don't ever feel like you don't deserve us," Lynn Sr. continued.

Those were the words he knew he needed to hear. A reassurance despite the fog of doubts present in him. It made him smile.

"Thanks," was all he could say.

"We love you, Lincoln," Rita responded.

Not wanting to wrap himself tighter with those fuzzy feelings, he slid out of his chair and got up. He said he loved them too, but didn't want to dawdle on it. Besides, he's already been through enough for one night. Though of course, that didn't explain that smile on his face.

Was this truly gonna be the last time he was gonna need that talk? Was he finally gonna get past this silly phase where he thought a brother was the only way to solve any minor grievances he had with his family? With each step up the staircase, he tried convincing himself that he would grow out of this, that he was gonna start seeing his sisters as more than just alien forces.

Lincoln got back in his room and rested on the bed. Beside his pillow was Bun-Bun, his beloved stuffed bunny. He loved that plushie more than anything (outside his family and friends of course). It was always something he could use to hug out any feelings he had. And now was the perfect time to release. Grabbing the doll, he smothered it between his constricting arms and his chest. Bun-Bun's soft fluffy body felt great; it was as if he was transferring his hopefulness to it, storing it in case he ever became sad.

Just then, his door flung open. Shocked by the banging sound, Lincoln turned to see his little sister Lola fuming in her nightgown.

"Lana is the worst! She's so gross and she's always messing with me even though I say no!" she exclaimed. It was only then that Lincoln noticed her sister had her pillow tucked under her arm.

"Is there something you need to get off your chest?" Lincoln asked as he shifted gears from "me" mode to "big brother" mode.

"Me and Lana got into a big fight and I can't stand her! I wanna sleep with you tonight," Lola said, contempt seething in her voice.

Knowing what to do next, Lincoln got up and embraced the princess. Immediately, her muscles relaxed, especially in her back. The boy went out of his way to massage those tense regions, allowing Lola to cool off.

"It's okay," he said, "you can stay with me tonight. I was just gonna read a little Ace Savvy before hittin' the hay."

"Okay," Lola said calmly. Turns out, "big brother" mode was effective at its job. Lincoln cast her sister a smile before lounging back on the bed. He pulled an old copy out from his dresser and cracked it open.

Lola merely stood there at first, not sure where to lie down or what to do. Her brother was at peace and within seconds had tranquilized her as well. How did he do that, she wondered. Her brother was one of nature's many wonders.

"Say Linky," she said. Sure enough, he looked up from the crumpled pages to see Lola with a completely blank and wide-eyes expression. For the first time in a while, it wasn't a trick or a cheap attempt at manipulation. She genuinely looked innocent, bashful in front of her big brother. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable it was seeing a six-year-old like this.

"What is it?"

Lola gazed down at the carpet, as if trying to find some mysterious object that didn't exist. Again, how was it that she wasn't trying to egg him into something with this act?

"Can you read that comic to me?"

Was this really happening or did she just eavesdrop on his talk downstairs? Was she really mad at Lana for something? Lincoln was confused by this sudden request and yet, he didn't mind. Lola was here willing to do something he was interested in. Whether or not he would convert her wasn't important. And yet he smiled. After all, there were many tales of Ace Savvy he wished to share.

"Okay," he said softly.

Turning into a ball of energy, she jumped onto the bed, shaking the entire wobbly surface like a trampoline. Lola eagerly climbed her way to him before tucking herself against his side.

As he felt her warm body and his nostrils gave way to the dull hairspray residue, Lincoln wondered if he was dreaming. There was no way this was real. He briefly stared at the opening panels of the issue before him, looking at the letters as if they were stone monoliths.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Lola asked happily.

His mind cleared as he stared down on her sister's cheery face. No more questions, no more doubts. Only the two of them with this comic.

And with that, he started to read the adventure, much to the awe-struck wonder of his sister.