Steven didn't know the number, or the name that popped up. He had a lot of people in his phone, but only a couple ever really called him. Or picked up when he called. Then again, he figured, he did help a lot of people. Him and the other Gems. Maybe word was spreading? Maybe there was a big emergency in town, and only the Crystal Gems could help. Did that make him their point-of-contact? Like—like a sidekick? Or, hang on, was he just their secretary? Steven didn't want to be a secretary. Not that there was anything wrong with being a secretary. It just wasn't in his ideal skill set. He'd need a completely different kind of training. Maybe he should give out Pearl's direct line, now that she had a phone too? That would be more efficient. Then he could just respond as part of the team. Be the cool one in the back, who never said anything. Everyone would ask, "Who's that?" Then someone say, "What, him? Why, that's Kid Universe! He—"

The phone continued to ring.

"But I guess every legend has to start somewhere." He pressed the green button in the center of his screen. "Residence of the famous Crystal Gems; Kid Universe speaking. What is your crisis today, please?"

"Steven!" The voice was like cool marmalade on the boy's over-baked imagination. "I thought you'd never pick up! What's going on?"

"Oh. Connie." Shift gears, son. This is serious now. "Connie! Are you okay? It's been forever! It's been, what is this, Tuesday? Wait, who's Mabel?"

In and around the background murmur, Steven could hear a bell intone through the speaker. Connie's voice was clipped, abrupt, a little louder than it had to be. "It's, she's, she's someone at study hall. I've got a free period. Sort of. I'm just calling to say, I'm sorry I messed this up. For you, me. Us. For everyone."

The Crystal Gems help line? No, wait. That was all in his head. Did she mean the other day? "What? No. You didn't do anything wrong! I mean, you really did mean to call your mom. Or at least send a message. And it all turned out fine!" He gestured, for no one to see. "And she met Stevonnie, and we gave her a hug, and she didn't even freak out all that much."

"Steven, it's not fine. That's not the—it's, I mean. I should have called, but it was going to be all right. Stevonnie cleared it all up, and Mom was ready to move on, and then, and then..." Her voice dipped, so Steven could barely hear her. "I just blew it."

"Huh?" Did he miss something? "Like, on the ride home?" For a beat there was only the shuffle and roar of what must have been a school hallway. "Hey, Connie? You still there?"

"No. Steven, right at the end. Right," she began to stammer. "R-, right before I left. When, when—we, w-, I, you know."

Steven blinked into space. Had she... broken something? Did she kick her mother really hard? When she was on Dr. Maheswaran's shoulder? After they... oh. "Oh." Wait, that happened, didn't it. He'd spent the rest of that night in such a trance, he half thought he'd dreamt it all. "Oh!" But, hang on. "What? Why?"

"Steven, I kissed you! On the mouth! Right in," she moderated her volume to a harsh whisper, "right in front of her!"

"Yeah. Is that... bad?" He slid his hand over his gem, unconsciously.

"Bad? It's like the worst thing ever!"

"Oh."

Connie sputtered, in a panic. "No, Steven, no. No! I'm, no." She groaned. "I just mean, all I did then was confirm all their worst fears about me."

"Their worst fear is... me?" No matter how warm he got, the gem remained cool to the touch. He curled his fingers and ran his knuckles along its facets.

"I don't mean it like that," she pleaded. "Steven, it's not you. Don't you understand? It's, I—I was just so happy to see everything work out. Finally it was all right there. She knew about the magic and the training, and now she knew about Stevonnie. And it was a lot of effort, but she was willing to accept it, and, and—and now they think it's all just an excuse."

"An excuse?"

"It's like everything they worry I might do when they're not looking, now they think they were right all along. Steven, they won't let me out of their sight!"

"I don't get it." Was this a human thing or a grown-up thing? Was he more Gem than he thought he was? They did make up most of his role models. "All because you kissed me?"

"I didn't mean to! I mean, I did. It's just, I don't know. I thought maybe we'd kind of... earned it? It was like, like some TV moment, where everyone learns a valuable life lesson and laughs about all that happened, then next week there's some new problem to face. But life doesn't work like that, and it's not that cute. And it's not that—" Her voice wavered. "It, it doesn't always work out. And now I've ruined everything."

"Oh." He measured his breath, and tried to pull on a smile. "Well. It can't be that bad, right? I mean, we can still talk like this. We'll just be phone buds now, until this all blows over, or one of us has a carefully developed, foolproof, very good idea."

"Steven, they don't even know I'm talking to you. This isn't my phone. They're really upset with me."

"But you're doing it anyway. You found a way." Seriously, who was Mabel? "Connie, this isn't so bad. We'll figure it out, the way we always do. Sure it sucks that we can't see each other right now, but we've fought way worse stuff than your parents." He counted off on his fingers, racking his brain for the meanest of the mean. "Jasper, the Gem mutants, that... bird blob?" The hand drifted back to his gem. "Your parents aren't even that bad. At least you've got both of them. I think they're just worried about you."

"That's just it." Steven had to cover his other ear to make her out. "That's what scares me. That after everything we've been through, I don't think they trust me anymore. And maybe..." She sniffed. "Maybe they shouldn't."

"Connie, that's ridiculous. They should be proud of you! You've done so much. You do everything they ask, and you still try so hard at the things you want to do. You're smart and strong and brave. Why wouldn't they be proud?"

"Because now they think I lied to them. And I scared them so much. Mom thought she'd lost me. And now they think I'm just some rotten kid who sneaks behind her parents' back so she can spend all day kissing a boy. And, maybe I am! Even on the way here, I drank my mom's whole latte when she wasn't looking. It tasted like raspberries! I let her think she left it on the roof!" She paused to breathe. "Which may explain why I'm so on-edge right now."

"What?" Steven was having none of this. "Just wait a gosh darned minute." The fingers were back, sterner this time. "First of all, you didn't do anything behind your mom's back. You kissed me right in front of her. I could see her looking at me. Second, it was no more than ten seconds, five minutes tops."

"Steven," she breathed, "I think I really hurt them. You saw the way my mom was. I just... I hate to see them so disappointed. My mom, she's not getting any younger. I'm, maybe I should..." The noise in the hall had died down. For a long minute there was nothing but an odd clack of feet on tile, a distant mumble, a door left to slam once, twice, three times. What were they doing?

"You okay? Connie?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I didn't want to say. You never knew your mom. I just, I never thought about it. What if I lost them? And what if the last thing they knew was how they'd lost me? Maybe, I don't know, we should put this off for a while. Maybe I should just let them have their daughter, while they still can."

"Um." That must have been some coffee. "So, you want to wait to see me until your parents are... dead?"

"I..." Hearing it in so many words left Connie startled. "No. Of cour-, I, no, I don't know. But, maybe? I mean, you're not getting any older, right?"

Steven felt a bead of sweat pooling near his left eye. "I, er. I mean, I could be?"

"But you're a Gem, and Gems don't age. Well, half-Gem. It might take you years to grow up. Ideally this would be the other way around, because girls mature faster than boys anyway, but I already look older than you, right?"

With a dull thump, Steven slid off the edge of his bed. "Connie, what are you talking about?"

"And maybe we can catch up! Does Stevonnie age? They're more human than you, but they've still got your gem. Do you think if we fused, I'd get any older? I bet we can make it up!" Every word compounded her sense of excitement. Clearly this was the most brilliant plan that Connie had ever put together.

"Heh, heh. Yeah, wouldn't that be something." Steven sighed. "Connie, I don't understand what you're saying to me, but I don't want to wait until your parents die. How about we do a video chat later, and we can take it from there?"

"That's perfect. I can wait until Mom's asleep, and sneak into Dad's office while he's at work. I know his password."

"Yeah, um. That sounds great." Steven could hear another bell, and a growing murmur behind the space that carried Connie's voice.

"I got to go. Study hall's over. Thanks, Steven. We shall resume contact at 200 hours! Connie, out!"

"Oh, all right. I'll—" The phone cut off. Steven closed his eyes and breathed. This was going to be fine. It was fine. He hated to see Connie fall apart like this. The best he could do was just listen to her. What time was it, anyway? He flicked the phone screen. 2:25. So how long was 200 hours? Wasn't that, like, a week?

Steven dropped the phone on his comforter and trudged to the kitchen. Where was everyone? It was so... quiet, there. He wished he could say something, help Connie to calm down. More than ever, he'd been missing her lately. Now he knew why he'd been getting voicemail, anyway.

Was he even hungry? After that call, he didn't feel like eating. Not by himself, anyway. Absently Steven folded his right hand into his left. Feeling the touch, he looked at his palms and sighed. Nope; just him in there.

Coffee, he thought. Put him in some solidarity with that missing part. Or, okay, maybe not coffee. He doubted they had any, and Mr. Dewey didn't seem like the kind to sell coffee to a kid. And anyway, Connie was pretty weird on the phone. But, tea? Tea was nice. Steven put on the water, and climbed the counter to rattle through the upper cabinets. He knew Pearl kept a collection up there somewhere, though to what purpose he couldn't imagine. It's not like she drank it. Maybe it was for the little ceramic animals? Lately it was all tractors and things. That was far less interesting. He muttered, to keep himself company. "Chamomile mint. That sounds nice." He took a deep whiff of the box. "Mmm, fresh. Hope it's not too strong."

They didn't have any exotic syrup, but they did have a clear plastic bear full of honey. Good enough, probably. Steven felt like donning his pink shirt just so he could pop the collar. He forced a laugh as he squeezed the sweetener into the most delicate of china cups. "Rebel in training, baby." Soon enough the kettle was whistling its diminished fifth—the rebel's interval—and the bag was beginning to steep. He lifted the cup and saucer and walked to the screen door, to peer over the crawling tide. And whatever that might be, crawling in the tide. Was it some kind of giant sea slug, or—oh. No, it was just Onion, with... was that a toaster? What was he doing?

Steven puffed at the surface of his maturing tea. Still too hot, but the aroma was taking off. "Mm, lovely," he chirruped. The sound of the warp pad made him leap. He just barely caught the cup and saucer, only spilling a few drops on his thumb—enough to make him yelp and flap his hand a few times on its way to his mouth.

"Hey, Stee-Man! What you suckin' your thumb for, huh?!"

He scowled at Amethyst. "Where have you guys been? I haven't seen you all day. Where's Garnet?"

"Oh-ho-ho," she chuckled, "this is the best. You just gotta see what Peri did to the Galaxy Warp. It was supposed to be an early warning system, but now Sardonyx is all—"

"Hang on." Steven held up a hand. "You're saying there's some kind of crisis?"

Amethyst twirled her hair with a shrug. "I dunno about a crisis, but it's good for a few laughs."

He lowered his hand to cradle the opposite elbow, lending a stable basis to stroke his chin. "Is there a chance of anyone getting hurt, or anything important getting destroyed or damaged?"

"I guess," she said. "But only if they drop that thing."

Steven punched the air with both hands. "Good enough! Kid Universe to the res-, um?" Something was missing. He stared at his palms, then at the ground. He lifted one foot, then the other. He looked up to the rafters, left and right. Did he leave it on the roof? No, he was too young to drive. So, where...

"Dude, you lose something?"

He snapped to it. Priorities, Steven. "I'm fine! Don't worry. Just let me get my pink shirt!"

"No worries, man. I'm sure they can hold that all day."

Steven trotted back to the warp pad, folded his arms, unfolded a hand to flip up the collar; struggled a moment, unfolded the other hand to help with the collar, and re-folded his arms. "Kid Universe to the rescue. Let's do this!"

It was well past dark when the warp pad re-activated. Three out of four Gems, plus Steven, were lightly singed, dripping with a sheen of mucoid blue slime. The remaining Gem was on defense, with the face of an unsettled badger. "... perfectly steady, or there was a chance of misalignment! Ngah!"

Garnet turned without a word, raised her encrusted hands to open the Temple door, and allowed it to close behind her. Bedraggled as she looked, Pearl forced a pained smile. "Yes, well, we all did our best, Peridot. Perhaps next time we can find a simpler approach."

Eyes half-sunken, Steven loped back to the kitchen, trailing a deposit of thin periwinkle scum.

With a grunt, Amethyst clenched the back of the dry Gem's form-fitting "appearance modifier" and tugged her, thrashing, toward her own room. "Ugh, c'mon, Dot. It's not worth it. I got more junk you can take apart in here."

Alone on the pad, Pearl changed her focus. "I'm so sorry, Steven. We, I just didn't expect to see you at that moment." She raised her palms in a feeble shrug. "Thank goodness Amethyst was there to take the brunt of it, or who knows what could have happened! Ha, ha, ha!"

Steven patted his face with a dish towel. An iridescent transfer of his features now peered back at him from the cloth. He sighed. "It's all right, Pearl. I know it was a tricky job. I probably shouldn't have been there." As he shifted, his sandals popped and squelched against the kitchen tile. He couldn't help but smile, a bit. "But I guess I got that exotic syrup I was looking for." A hand went to scratch his head, but returned with a scoop of thickening goo. With a jerk of the wrist, thick gobs of the stuff spluttered across the floor.

Pearl's eyes swam to follow each motion, record every spot of disorder. "Yes, well," she said, "clearly you're always welcome on our operations. You're a part of the team! I'm so proud of the growth you've shown in such a short time. Geologically speaking. I don't ever want you to feel, er, unwelcome." She glanced away, as her fingers balled to a loose fist. "It's not your fault you arrived when you did."

"Right." Steven wanted to pour a bowl of cereal, but first he'd have to clean his hands. And the sink was all the way over there. What, two feet, almost. He extended an arm. No, too far. Sigh. "Thanks, Pearl. Hey, no real damage, right?"

Pearl gritted her teeth. "Well, no. Only to the Galaxy Warp, I suppose. Which I grant is an ancient and precious relic of Gem technology." The grimace spread to engulf her face. "But it's been broken before, and somehow we've fixed it! Ha, ha, ha!" She paused. "At least now we know that route is closed. And yes, we're all here! Unharmed. If a bit," she inspected the sheen on her palm, "compromised."

"Okay." Steven stirred what energy remained and spun toward the bathroom. As he stepped, his sandals stuck to the floor and remained in place. "Well, Steven's going to get cleaned up now."

Nervously Pearl curled some fingers in his direction. "Oh. Yes, well, good night, then, Steven. We'll all see you," to the closed door, "tomorrow."

The boy leaned against the bathroom sink—a little lower than the kitchen, a little easier to handle; a little... quieter—and breathed through his nose. With all he'd seen, Steven thought, maybe he should know better than to hope for an interesting day.

He turned the tap, leaving a thin blue glint on the metal. Maybe he should save his wishes for a nice, quiet picnic. With no ants. At least, not on the food. Ants were okay. Just not in a bagel sandwich. Or—he sighed—on a jam biscuit.

He caught the eye of Mirror Steven. If Steven looked half as bad as that kid, it was no wonder he felt the way he did. "Aw, man! Connie gave me this shirt." He hoped it didn't stain. He tried to peel the fabric away; it might as well have been glued to his skin. Just like a real Gem, he thought. But, his hands. That probably didn't help. "One thing at a time," he grumbled. This stuff was getting harder to scrub off, and if it dyed his skin like this he was worried for his birthday shirt. His hands provisionally clear, time for a fuller round on his face. It was getting hard to blink now.

Seriously, though. How would he strip down? Would he have to just shower like this? Well, it wouldn't be the first time. Steven sighed into the sud-filled basin, leavening its froth with a brief geyser of air. He came up gasping; coughed up a bubble or two. That was a bit misjudged. "Okay," he sputtered to the figure across the sink, "no more messing around. Time to get..." Something was off about Mirror Steven. He looked downward, and was greeted with rolls of bright peach-toned flesh.

"... squeaky?!" He yelped. Steven sprang backward, only for his feet to stick in place, causing him to fall. So the gunk remained. Otherwise, nothing to see here but a gem. "Wha-, what?" He tried to push himself up, but those feet weren't going anywhere. Growling with effort and a deep pinch to his flesh, he freed his soles from purgatory and scrambled backward until he could use the wall to wedge himself upright. Little blue inverse-feet remained by the sink, much like Dishtowel Steven from before.

Panting, Steven lifted his elbows, spun in place; looked behind the shower curtain, in the toilet. There was Mirror Steven again, just as confused as he. "By chance you haven't seen a pink shirt around, have you?" No answer, of course. Something crackled in the back of Steven's brain. Was he losing his grip? What was going on here? He shrugged at his companion. "Looks like you have the same problem, huh? Heh, heh."

Quietly Steven explored the rest of the house. Nothing in the fridge, the oven. Nothing by the sofa, the warp pad. His loft was as he left. "Guys?" He ventured. "Amethyst, is this you? It's very funny, but that shirt is important to me."

There had to be a simple explanation. Steven retraced his steps. He had been at the sink. There were his footprints, now frozen like glass. He lined himself up. "So I was here, washing my hands." He spoke to the mirror. "I think I said something about ants. Or was that just in my head?" He frowned. "Then I went to rub that stuff out of my eyes." He lowered his head, mimed a splash, and pushed himself upright. "And—" There was his shirt! Mirror Steven had it the whole time. That rascal! Wait, hold on.

Steven glanced at his chest. "Shirt!" he yelled. In his excitement he slipped on the footprints, setting him on his back again. This time, a little harder. "Ow," he protested. But, he saw his knees. "And pants!" He gawped. "Where were you?" As he sat up, the shirt chafed against his skin. He slid a hand beneath, to nurse the flesh. The cotton was stiff as cardboard. But, it no longer stuck to him. It was just... there, being worn.

"What is going on?" Steven tried to grasp his hair, only to prick his fingers on the quills that had formed with the hardened gel. "Ow! Again! It's, it's almost like..." And then it hit him.

"Oh my gosh!" He dashed to tell Mirror Steven. "I'm a Gem too! I've got my own filing system!" His glee flipped back to puzzlement. "But how does it work? Well, think, Steven. How does your gem usually work?" He glanced at the mirror. "Good point, Steven." He closed his eyes. "Usually when I float, or summon a bubble or a shield, it's got to do with how I'm feeling." He took a pose, and shared a determined stare with his counterpart. "So what if I feel like... being naked?!" There was a flash of the purest, most gentle pink, and the clothes were no more than a vestigial glint in Steven's gem.

Eyes beaming, Steven tore from the bathroom. "Guys! Guys! I can do a thing! Come on, guys!" No answer from the temple. "Aww," he groused. "What do they even do at night? It's not like they need to sleep." A better thought struck him. "Connie!" He took the stairs two at a time, dove for the phone on his bed, and hit redial.

One ring, two. Short pause. An unfamiliar voice replied. "Uh, hello?"

"Connie!" He shouted. "Wait, what? Who are you?"

"Me?" The voice sounded cross. "Who are you?"

"This is Steven Universe!" He continued to shout. "I want to talk to Connie!"

"Connie's not here," they grunted. "This is Mabel."

Steven scowled at the screen. "Aww, Mabel?!" That's right. Steven hit the red button and tossed the phone across the bed, to skitter under the pillow. With a sigh he peered at the bare knees before him, a few dark hairs beginning to mark their turf. He was too getting older. Sort of. In parts. "At least it wasn't a video call," he mused.

This was a big development, probably. There was so much to mull over. It would be easier if he had someone to talk to. Or if he just were, well, more alert. He sucked his teeth for a moment. "Now would have been a great time for that tea."

And there it was, on his lap. Saucer and all. "Oh, what?!" Tentatively he raised the cup to his lips, only to recoil before he made contact. "And it's still too hot!"

Steven shot to his feet, launching the saucer to wheel across the landing, bounce unharmed off the sofa below, and land with a clink beneath the front window. "It's just the way I left it!" He gasped. "The possibilities are endless!"

For an hour Steven rummaged through the house for items to place in his gem—storing them, recalling them; from in front, to the side; into his hand, onto the floor. Little things, not-so-little things. Practical things. Errant nonsense. Spare shirts. A scrub brush. Sir Bearington. A small bunch of bananas. His cheeseburger backpack, full of many useful objects. Then his eye lit on the fruit of Stevonnie's me-day, a while back: their wardrobe, their novels, their, er, undergarments. That was it. Steven had a brilliant idea. Wait 'til Connie heard about this.

With some online research, Steven deciphered that Connie would call at 2 AM. She wasn't kidding; that was early. But it left plenty of time to get his life in order. Before he stepped into the shower to chip away at his hair, Steven planned out everything he might need the rest of the night—pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, a towel, actually-that-comb for once, and one by one stored them in his gem. "Just like a vending machine," he laughed.

The rest of the night was one extended conjuring trick. When he needed shampoo, there it was in his hand. When he needed to dry off, he was holding a towel. When he was dry, his pajamas... were floating in the air, or in a pile on the floor. Then after many false starts, they were on him. And then they were on him again, the right way around.

He set an alarm for 1:50. Didn't want to miss the only Connie time he might have for a while. It was hard to know just what was happening, but they'd work through this. It would be just dandy. Dandy, in the end. Dandy Andy. All they'd have to do was show—Steven yawned. Who's Andy? What was he talking about? Thinking? Something, Connie. Got to, need to, Connie.

Steven's dreams were addled. Each time he got comfortable, there was some buzz or chirp, or that same darned song would keep playing on the radio. He tried to explain to Lion, that was no way to run a boombox. They didn't have just that one radio on the channel. It was more like a forest. Everything was leaves. Lions should know all about leaves, because they talk to other cats.

As the light crept over the horizon and through his window, thoughts turned to a bright metallic city. Automated sidewalks. Not a car on the ground, but a few in the air. Mostly taxis, looked like. Not a sign of poverty or decay. Lots of green spaces. Such big trees. Big, and thick. They were so old. Older than anyone. And so must be the city. But it was so clean. They turned the corner. Aha, there was the ocean. And the boardwalk. And hey, the Big Donut. Now under new management. What, again?

"Future doughnuts," Stevonnie mumbled, as the sun, enormous and orange, came over the horizon. Too large. Too bright. They were going to go blind.

His eyes snapped open, and immediately his arm shot across his face, shielding it. "Ow!" He forgot to close the blinds last night. Wait, what time was it? He rolled to his side. His phone was at 4% charge. 7:35. Oh, crud.

Flopped on his back, Steven leaned his pillow against his face as a shade. He stared at the rafters as they caught the early light. Each side a different shade, a slightly different hue. All kind of... orange. It was always there. Why had he never noticed? It was kind of beautiful, really.

He cupped his gem. And sighed.

So. What now?