The following Monday proceeded as usual, with Lincoln and Ronnie Anne meeting up for lunch before exchanging the goggles.

"So how are things going over in Beach City?" asked Lincoln.

"Pretty intense," said Ronnie Anne. "Have I told you about Garnet?"

Lincoln rubbed his chin. "No, I don't think the name rings a bell."

"She's one of the Gems. And she's huge. Like, twice my height. Right now she's training me in combat."

"Oh, neat!" he said. "I bet she's pretty strong."

"Like you wouldn't believe. She was wearing these massive gauntlets the size of toasters, and she was swinging them around like they were nothing!"

Lincoln couldn't help but feel a tinge of envy, given the relative mundanity of the part of the timeline he was viewing. Still, the least he could do was be happy for her, and hope that somehow their two worlds would intersect at one point or another.

"But I'm pretty tough myself, so I could take what she dished out," she remarked. To drive her point home, she rolled up her sleeve and flexed, showing off her ample bicep.

He gulped, taken aback by its size and definition. "I probably couldn't," he muttered, looking self-consciously down at his own arm.

"Aw, don't feel bad," she said with a chuckle. "You're still a great guy - even if you are a little scrawny."

She then took the goggles out of her backpack and slid them across the table towards him. "Anyway, it's your turn. Let me know how things go on your side."

As bizarre as Ronnie's experience was, Lincoln had to admit that his turn with the goggles would be pretty exciting in its own right. The last time he had the goggles, his alternate self had mustered up the courage to invite Connie into his own home - a pivotal step in their relationship. On the way home, images of her long, ebony hair and bright bespectacled eyes danced in his head, as he tried to imagine how the afternoon would play out.

Once he got home, he rushed upstairs, blazed through his homework and strapped on the goggles.

1:30 p.m.

October 18

The Loud House

Lincoln jittered with excitement as he sat on the living room couch in anticipation of his friend's arrival. He had spent that afternoon doing everything he could to make himself presentable - combing his hair, washing his face and even ironing his favorite orange polo before putting it on. For the first time in his young life, he was going to have a girl - a girl - as a guest in his house. What's more, he was lucky enough to find a day when all of his sisters would be safely out of the way. Nothing could screw this up as long as he kept his cool.

Ding-dong.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard the doorbell, and he leaped off the couch to answer it. Once he opened the door, he was greeted with the beaming face of Connie. To his mild surprise, in lieu of her usual formal attire, today she opted for a pair of overalls over a simple striped shirt, and her hair was tied back into a neat ponytail.

"Hi, Connie!" chirped Lincoln. "Gosh, you look... uh..."

His mind hit a bit of a snag. Commenting on her appearance was always a balancing act for him; he had to be nice, but not too nice, lest he make his feelings for her too obvious.

"...casual!"

To his relief, she responded with a laugh, scratching the back of her head. "Yeah, I didn't want to wear anything too nice, since we'll be getting pretty messy."

"That makes sense," said Lincoln. "Come on! I've got our workspace all set up downstairs."

With that, he walked her across the living room, through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. As soon as they started down the steps, the musky aroma of sawdust and freshly cut lumber filled Lincoln's nostrils. Once they reached the bottom, he directed her attention to a spot in the center, where he had laid out all the supplies they'd need including a stack of pre-cut pinewood squares, a bench, a screwdriver, some screws, a few buckets of paint, some PVC pipe, a drill, two pairs of gloves, two pairs of safety goggles, and a ruler.

"Oh, wow, did you set this up all by yourself?" she asked.

"Yep!" he said. "Well, mostly. My mom helped me cut the wood."

He walked over, scooped up the gloves and tossed one pair to Connie, who fumbled with them a bit before securing them in her hand.

"S-sorry. Butterfingers."

Lincoln, unsure of why she felt the need to apologize for that, just laughed it off and grabbed a plank of wood.

"The first thing we'll need to do is drill a hole in one of the planks, right?" he asked.

"Yep! That'll be the entrance for the bird."

He grabbed a pencil off the floor and prepared to mark it up, only for Connie to stop him midway.

"Hold it, Lincoln. Measure twice, cut once."

Lincoln had hoped he would be able to get away with just eyeballing it; alas, it seemed as though Connie's mother had rubbed off on her. Still, he wasn't interested in arguing with her, so he handed her the plank, the pencil and a ruler, and proceeded to watch as she sketched out a hole right in the center, about an inch and a half in diameter. His eyes widened in mild surprise as she drew what was, as far as he could tell, a near-perfect circle without the use of a compass.

"That's some precision," he commented.

Connie looked up from her work and managed a small smile. "Thanks. I've always been told that I had a pretty steady hand."

In a rather odd show of affection, he leaned over and gave her a pat on the knuckles. She gasped, froze up at the sensation of his hand touching hers, and stayed frozen for five long, uncomfortable seconds. Before he even had a chance to say he was sorry, though, she began to giggle, breaking the tension in the room.

"You're funny, Lincoln."

Feeling much more at ease, he took the plank from her and used a c-clamp to secure it to the bench, so that the hole overlapped it.

"Here," he said, handing her the drill. "I think we'll need your hands for this job."

Connie flinched when he dropped the power tool into her open hand, and for a long spell she just gawked at it, as if she had never seen such a contraption before.

"A-a-are you sure?" she asked. "I-it looks dangerous. I mean, look at the size of that bit."

Lincoln had equipped the drill with one of Lana's heavy duty "spade bits", knowing that the hole they drilled for the bird would have to be relatively large. Sensing her intimidation, he slipped behind her and gave her a light pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be right here to make sure nothing happens."

As he gazed into her bespectacled eyes, he saw signs of her fear... not quite dissolving, but at the very least, receding. She managed a faint smile, took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the drill.

"Okay. I trust you."

That one sentence gave him butterflies. Liking him was one thing; trusting him was quite another. The pride he felt in that moment was the same he got when Lola reached out to hold his hand while the doctor gave her a shot, or when Lisa held him tight during a thunderstorm. The pride in knowing that he was becoming her rock, her source of comfort and reassurance.

In other words, he was more than just her friend.

After putting on some gloves and safety goggles, she knelt down towards the board and positioned her drill right above the hole, with Lincoln hovering his hands behind her. A sharp whirring sound cut through the basement as the drill pierced the wood, tearing it up and sending flecks of sawdust scattering every which way. She steeled herself and grit her teeth, determined to see the task through to the end. Through the whole affair, Lincoln made sure to keep his hands just out of contact with her, as he was sure that an errant touch from him would break her concentration.

After about thirty tense seconds, the deed was done.

"You did it!" he cried. "See? That wasn't so hard!"

Connie sighed, set the drill down and wiped a bit of sweat off of her brow. "You know, it really wasn't," she said. "I feel a little silly for being so afraid of that thing."

"Don't worry about it. I was a little scared myself the first time I tried to use it. I mean, that drill bit does look pretty menacing."

Donning a mischievous smirk, he scooped up the drill and jostled it around in his hand. "I am the Drill-inator! Hasta la vista, plywood!" he said in a poor imitation of an Austrian accent, which got a nervous laugh out of her.

"C-careful, Lincoln. That's not a toy."

Lincoln, feeling just a tad childish for being so careless, set the drill back down and got back to work. Together, the two of them were able to blaze through the next few steps - sanding the wood, painting it with wood finish and spreading glue on the edges - without too much trouble, although he noticed that she was getting just a little bit winded.

"Want to take a break?" he asked.

Connie wiped her brow clean, unstrapped her safety goggles and let her gloves fall off her hands. "Sure. That'd be nice."

With that, they left their work station as it was and went up to the living room, where Lincoln invited her to take a seat on the couch while he prepared some snacks. As he knew little about her dietary habits, he decided to make something simple, not too filling and digestible - little cheese sandwiches with crackers as bread, or "wagon wheels", as he called them.

"I hope these are okay," he said as he set them down on the coffee table. "Unless- are you vegan? Or lactose intolerant? I can check to see if we have-"

"Lincoln, it's fine," Connie said with a giggle. "I can eat cheese."

He sighed with relief, took a seat next to her, and for the next few minutes, the two of them sat across from each other, happily munching away. Ordinarily, this would be the point in the day when he would idly ask himself what could possibly happen to ruin this moment - but truth be told, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind in at least an hour. The more time he spent with her, the more the rest of the world faded away. By the time they went back up to the living room, he was in his own little world, one where Connie was the only one around and making her happy was the only thing that mattered.

But it wasn't long before reality forced its way back in. While they were on the couch, Lincoln felt his phone buzz, and saw that he was getting a call from Leni.

"Sorry, I gotta take this," he said, losing his smile as he answered the call.

"Hi, Linky! Just wanna let you know that we're on our way home."

His body went rigid. They weren't supposed to be back from the spa until 6.

"C-come again?" he stammered.

"Lana got us kicked out for making mud pies," she said.

"What's the point of having mud if you can't play with it?!" he heard Lana cry in the background. Leni just let the question pass without comment.

"Anyway, we're gonna be home soon," she continued.

He gulped. "Define 'soon'."

"Like... a block away?"

Lincoln felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Why did you wait until now to call me about it?!

"Anyway, see you in a few!" she chirped, oblivious to how much trouble he was in. As soon as he hung up, he looked across the room to see Connie eyeing him with some concern.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. "Who was that?"

"M-my sisters are on their way home," he muttered.

"Oh, swell!" Connie said with a smile. "You didn't tell me you had sisters. I'm sure I'd love to meet the-"

She was cut off by the rumbling of Vanzilla pulling into their driveway. Soon afterward, her smile evaporated at the sound of twenty or so feet clomping towards the front door in unison.

"Just how many sisters do you have?" Connie asked pointedly.

Lincoln forced a smile, hoping that it would soften the blow of his answer at least slightly.

"...ten?"

Before Connie could even react, the door swung open to reveal a peeved-looking Lori.

"Well, there goes our Saturday," she said, glaring down at Lana. "How many times do we have to tell you that-"

She stopped in her tracks as soon as she caught sight of the bespectacled, well-dressed girl on the couch sitting beside Lincoln. Her arms fell slack and her eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. As each of the sisters trickled into the living room, they, too, were awestruck by the sight. A long, pregnant silence ensued as all ten of them stared at the two children, before Lori finally spoke up.

"Lincoln, who is this?"

Lincoln's stomach twisted into knots as his worst fear came to life before his eyes. "S-she's..." he uttered. "...um... she's my classmate. Her name is Connie."

After eking out an answer, he could do little but watch in horror as their expressions of shock slowly morphed into unbridled, uncontainable glee. Lori let out an ear-piercing squeal - which, in this context, sounded more like a battle cry. In moments, nine of the ten girls were swarming around his new friend. The only holdout was Lucy, who was frantically trying to rein them in.

"She's pretty!"

"Those glasses make her eyes look so big!"

"Judging by her countenance and facial features, I suspect she is of South Asian descent."

"When did you two start dating?"

"Have you kissed?!"

All the while, Connie was sinking deeper and deeper into the couch, cowering in the face of the swarm.

"D-dating? Kiss? I... I..." she squeaked, blushing.

"Guys, stop it!" cried Lincoln, developing a blush of his own. "You're freaking her out! Stop crowding her!"

His cries, unfortunately, were barely audible over the din of his sisters, who continued to close in on the beleaguered Connie. Knowing he wasn't going to reason his way out of this mess, his only hope was to usher his friend out of the storm. As it turned out, however, his friend wouldn't need his help; amidst the chaos, she had managed to wriggle her way out of the crowd and make her way towards the door. By the time Lincoln found her again, she was on her way out of the house.

"Connie, wait!" he called out, ramming his way through the crowd and going after her. Although he wasn't an athletic kid by any means, it didn't take long for him to catch up with the meek, bookish Connie. One he did, she turned around to face him, looking like she had just stepped off a roller coaster - her hair frazzled, her glasses askew and her body giving off an incessant shudder. After less than a minute inside the Sisternado, she was already coming unglued.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?!" she demanded. "Dating?! Kisses?! What on earth have you been telling them?!"

Lincoln gulped and shrunk away from her. In the brief time that they knew each other, that was the first time she had ever raised her voice to him.

"Nothing, I swear!" he cried. "Until today, they didn't even know you existed!"

As soon as he realized what he said, he wished he could have grabbed it out of the air and shoved it back in his mouth. Alas, it was too late; the damage was already done, as evidenced by Connie visibly deflating.

"You didn't tell them about me at all?"

"W-well, I told one of them. I mean, technically, she found out herself, but I... look, I introduced you to my parents, didn't I?"

Lincoln's stomach churned as his friend's stern, scolding frown bore into him.

"Look, you saw the way they reacted!" he protested, jabbing an accusatory finger towards his house. "If I told them about you, they would have gone totally bonkers!"

"And you didn't think that would be a problem today?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They were supposed to be at the spa today!" he said. "But then Lana messed things up, and they got kicked out, and it was too late for me to... I mean, they-"

"I-it doesn't matter," she interjected. "Honestly, I'm more hurt that you didn't tell me about them. Why all the secrecy? Why all the lies?"

"I... well..."

Lincoln suddenly firmed up and took a step closer to Connie. "...well, what was I supposed to say when you asked to come over?!" he cried. "'No, you can't come because my sisters are crazy'?! You'd think that I was just making excuses and throwing my family under the bus!"

To his surprise, she refused to yield. "Who said anything about 'no'?" she asked. "Why not, 'Yes, but just so you know, I have ten sisters and they can get pretty rowdy'?"

He retreated a step, having lost his footing just as quickly as he gained it. "I-I thought I would freak you out I told you about the Sisternado."

"'Sisternado'?" parroted Connie, giving him a peculiar look.

"It's just my nickname for what happens whenever they go nuts," he said. "My point is that I... I don't know, I didn't want to scare you off. I was- I - if you knew, maybe you... wouldn't want to be friends with me...?"

A deep feeling of shame was welling in the pit of his stomach, as he was confronted with the reality of how little he thought this whole thing through.

"Lincoln, that's ridiculous," she said, her forehead wrinkling. "It doesn't matter to me how crazy your family is. I like you."

The boy felt a tinge of reassurance in that moment; unfortunately, a moment later it was superseded by his still-swelling feelings of guilt, which only intensified in response to what she said next.

"But if we're going to be friends, you have to trust me. The idea that I would think poorly of you just because of the family you were born into... it hurts, Lincoln. It really does."

Lincoln hung his head shoulders, unable to even look his friend in the eye at this point. "I guess I really messed up, then."

"Yeah, you did," she said. "I won't lie and say you didn't."

He sunk even further down, to the point that he looked like a marionette whose strings had been cut. "I-I guess..." he choked out as he began to slink back towards the driveway. "...I guess this means we should just go our separate ways, then."

"No, I'm not saying that," said Connie, prompting him to stop in his tracks. "I'll just need a bit of time before I can forgive you."

She joined him by his side and pointed towards the front door. "Now, let's get back to work. We've already got half of it done, so we might as well finish it."

Lincoln nodded weakly, and the two of them walked back inside and started towards the basement. At this point, Lincoln's sisters - some of whom overheard the exchange outside - had completely deflated, and they dispersed as soon as he and Connie walked through the door. A few of them received a biting glare from their brother before leaving the premises.

From that point on, they worked in near total silence, only speaking to each other when necessary. Connie kept the same expression throughout the rest of the project - brow furrowed, lips locked into a slight but unshakable frown. Lincoln could barely bear to look at it for more than a couple seconds.

When they finished, she simply said, "Good work" and began to pack up her belongings. A lump hardened in Lincoln's throat as he walked her up the basement steps and towards the front door. Right before she walked out the door, she looked back over her shoulder and gave her friend one last, prolonged, sorrowful glance, looking to be on the verge of tears. That face, he knew, would be burned into his memory for years to come.

All he could do after she left was sit on the couch with his head down, ruminating on how badly he had loused up his relationship with her. It wasn't long, though, before he received a tap on the shoulder, and looked up to see a very unimpressed-looking Rita hovering over him.

"Tell your sisters to come downstairs," she said. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

Lincoln couldn't bear to watch any more. He unstrapped the goggles, let them fall onto the mattress and collapsed onto his back, feeling utterly empty inside.