LazyBones

Lynn Loud and sports were synonymous, the two terms equivalent and interchangeable should the situation call for it.

All her life Lynn was active, even as a baby she was known for wandering off and having mastered the art of walking at a mere ten months she proved to be quite the little troublemaker for her poor flustered parents. This was all par the course for Lynn, the girl who lived life to the fullest every day and never took a moment to sit back and let things take their course. That wasn’t her style, what was the point of living if you weren’t going to take charge after all? No sense in letting things just happen, if you want something then either take or make sure it happens, simple as that really and she couldn’t understand why most folks didn’t get that.

Lynn Loud was movement, she was energy, she was speed and strength and exhibited a fortitude beyond her years belied by her appearance. She wasn’t the smartest Loud, she wasn’t even the strongest (that feat went to Leni surprisingly enough, she’d seen the dimwitted fashionista body-slam men twice her weight without a second thought should they get in between her and a good sale), but she was the most active by a fairly wide margin.

And if she wasn’t smart then it could at least be said that she possessed some basic low cunning, an innate sense of her place in things (firmly at the top) and where it all fit together. She wasn’t dumb by any means, maybe a little too superstitious for her own good but you had to understand strategy to play sports, you got to know where you are and where your team is at all times, and you need to be quick on your toes and ready to change it all in a second.

So yeah, not exactly a genius like Lisa, but not an idiot either. She knew plenty of things, but if there was one thing Lynn knew for certain, one thing she was entirely sure about, it’s that if she stopped moving she’d die.

Like she’d pull a Lori and LITERALLY die.

Inactivity was anathema to Lynn. It was the opposite of everything she stood for, everything she believed in, antonymous to her very character. To be motionless was stifling, oppressive in its confines, inarticulate in its machinations.
But just try telling anyone that!

‘Oh Lynn,’ they’d say, ‘just relax, take a load off, put up your feet, where’s the fire kiddo,’ and a thousand other little ways to say sit down and stop moving for a minute because the rest of us can’t keep up.

Not her fault they were lazy, no need to drag to drag her down to their level.

...

Only, see, the thing is, they did kinda, sorta, maybe have an actual reason to tell her to cool it this time.

Lynn Loud gazed down morosely at her leg, covered in white plaster with colorful names and drawings scribbled in crayon decorating the cast. It was an ugly thing, she decided; through no fault of her siblings of course, they did the best they could to make it look nicer, but the fact remained that it was there in the first place and that was just no good.

This wasn’t her first cast, wouldn’t be her last either, but in terms of injuries this one had been her most severe yet. A clean break, not a sprain or a hairline fracture, like somebody had taken a chicken bone between their hands and snapped it. Hurt pretty bad too.

It was her own stupid fault, wasn’t looking where she was going, besides something like this was an inevitability anyway. She’d be fine, doctor said so, just a couple of months and she’ll be back up and running. The doctor had even told her that bones can get stronger after they break so not only would Lynn Loud be back, but she’d be back stronger than ever.

Didn’t mean this wasn’t the absolute worst thing in her entire life ever.

Lynn wanted to run; she needed to run, to climb, to swim and wrestle and play. She wasn’t built for this, this laying around, this waiting. She hated it, hated it with every fiber of her being.

She honestly didn’t know what was worse, the sitting around or the way all her sisters fawned over her and kept reminding her to sit there. Yeah, no duh. She wasn’t going to go run a mile or wrestle a bear, she wasn’t stupid. She knew she had to sit there and heal, but that didn’t mean she was going to like it or that she had to pretend she was happy.

It was almost a relief for the young athlete when the rest of her sisters all grew tired of her attitude or just got bored and slowly drifted off. Almost, and this is key because for all the bluster and bravado Lynn was a thirteen-yr. old girl, and what kid doesn’t like a little attention every now and then.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. Lynn knew her hobbies, her way of life, it wasn’t exactly what her siblings thought of as a good time. And to be honest she didn’t like any of their hobbies either, and that was fine too. But sometimes Lynn wished things were different, sometimes she wished her sisters could be a little more athletic, a little more outdoorsy. At the risk of sounding like a mushy weirdo she loved her sisters and she liked hanging out with them, even if they did get on her nerves all the time, and when she first broke her leg they were there. From the day she got back from the hospital she was practically swamped by siblings ready to help her, to hang out with her, and it was nice to receive so much attention. But as the days waned so did their attentions, and soon enough the last lingering girls went on their way and the usual routine had been reestablished as Lynn was left more or less to her own devices.

Well, not all of them.

Her sisters had all returned to their usual routines, but there was still one person in the house that just had to bother her, always trying to make her do stuff with him or play his stupid games or read his dumb comics or sitting down and just talking to her, letting her vent and complain without a word in edgewise, making sure she wasn’t lonely.

Lincoln was alright like that.

It was nice of him, he didn’t have to, but he did it anyway and Lynn appreciated it. Sure, she acted like she was annoyed, but she was a big sister, it’s part of the job. But in all seriousness, she really did value that he was choosing of his own volition to hang out with her. It had been a while and she missed it.

Out of all her siblings it was perhaps Lincoln that was her opposite. All the things she embodied seemed conspicuously absent in him. As far as she was concerned Lincoln suffered from a deplorable lack of personality; no drive, no need, content was the word and it made her itch whenever she looked at him relaxing without a care in the world, nose-deep in one of his comics or eyes glued to the television. He was the very personification of laziness and it irked the young teen to no end.

If anything, he should’ve been the one she could bond with the most! He was a boy after all, she could forgive her sisters for not enjoying sports, but he should be right out there with her. He was when they were kids, they used to play all the time; but then Lincoln decided he enjoyed reading and writing and drawing more than he like running around and getting fresh air.

'His loss,' she’d tell herself, 'no big deal.'

It hurt a little, that she had to make him play with her, that the only reason he’d ever want to wrestle with her or throw the old pigskin was because she’d dragged him outside; but Lynn was tough, and she pushed down the icky feeling it gave her way down in her stomach.

It was easier when she played sports, then she had other things on her mind to concentrate on and she didn’t have to think about this kind of stuff. But now she had a broken leg, now she couldn’t run around and play, now she had to sit inside and do nothing but rest and watch t.v and think. Lynn wasn’t predisposed towards thinking, especially the deep kind of thinking she’d been doing for about a month now, the kind where you sit down and really look at things and how they work.

She thought she might be learning something. It was awful.

The weeks had passed by like this, a blend of short visits to the park interspaced with some light roughhousing and other activities. He had even offered to help her do some exercises, and she didn’t even have to threaten him! At first, she thought he was doing it because he felt sorry for her, but he didn’t let up, he didn’t get frustrated and leave her alone, he kept right at it, always telling her she needed to stay in shape for when her leg was all better. It was nice, it was really nice to have him do this for her, with her.

Of course, Lincoln had his moments when he didn’t really want to do much of anything, days when he felt like sitting around reading or playing video games. And, much to her chagrin, Lynn found herself basically forced to sit around the house with him on those days. At first, she reacted much the way to be expected: fidgeting on the sofa impatiently and berating her little brother for being so lazy until he grew weary of her taunts and took her outside. As the days progressed though she grew tired of these antics and decided her bro needed a break too.

What really confused her though, and isn’t this just a kicker right here, but the more time she spent just sitting there on the sofa, letting him read his comics to her, or just a playing a game with him, well the more she started looking forward to those days.

She chastised herself at first, letting her brother’s laziness get to her. But time changes all things, even opinions, and the more Lynn sat on that sofa the more she thought about her brother. And the more she thought about Lincoln, the more she reconsidered her thoughts regarding the little snowball.

One of the first things Lynn finds herself noticing is that Lincoln Loud is a far more gracious player, whether victorious or losing, than she might’ve expected.

Not that she ever really thought of him as a sore loser, at least no to the degree she could admittedly be, and while the 11-year-old still liked to gloat on the rare occasions he did come out on top she always saw it as a more light-hearted kind of showing off. Lincoln was no braggart excusing the odd little song and dance now and then, it was no more or less than what everyone else in the family was inclined towards and was already leagues better than her own showboating tendencies.

Another thing she notices is that Lincoln is far more focused than she might give him credit. Seeing him lounge about it’d be easy to assume not much goes on in that cute little head of his, but the more she watches him play the more she begins to see that isn’t really the case.

Even now Lynn sees it, the two of them sitting on the sofa, her legs sprawled over his lap as he leans forward controller in hand and face glued to the television. From what Lynn sees it’s some kind of fantasy game, he’s playing as a knight killing a horde of invading goblins (ugly, green-skinned creatures with sharp teeth and crooked noses; Lynn finds herself both surprised and intrigued at the senseless slaughter of these things but more-so at how much fun Lincoln is having committing it) and what at first seemed to be mindless button mashing soon demonstrates an unmistakable necessity for timing and skill. A block followed by a quick stab, a side-step to avoid a mace followed by a be-heading, careful management of potions and other magical accruements, and his seemingly incredible ability to notice hidden areas behind fake walls or down secret paths. And all the while he takes this in with eyes squinted and a tongue stuck out, his focus undivided and absolute.

He doesn’t always win; the game actually seems pretty hard to play by yourself and sometimes the swarm drags him down. Lynn can’t help but wince every time he gets hit, perfectionist that she is she can’t imagine how Lincoln handles dying and having to start the level all over. He reacts of course but more often than not with a simple grunt and a shrug of his shoulders, nothing more.

A gracious player if ever there was. Now if only he could extend that attitude to actual sports, Lynn would have him on her team in a heartbeat.

Another thing to notice harkens back to her earliest and most frequent complaint concerning her brother’s hobbies; the sedentary nature of them, the outright lack of energy it requires. Anyone can press a button on a controller, sure she could see where reflexes came into play, where analysis paid its due, but Lynn would not budge on her stance that there was simply no excitement to be found.
Like most things concerning her brother, Lynn found herself wrong in this assessment.

As she watched she noticed an undeniable air of energy around him as he played, she saw the way he bounced in his seat when it got tense, the way he threw his arms around as if physically moving the controller would help the character out even more, and when things got too exciting he’d jump out of his seat and stand up, looming over the t.v at that final level until he won and threw his hands up in victory. It was all very silly Lynn thought, then her traitorous brain reminded her she looked awfully similar when the Super Bowl was on and she mentally shut up.

It wasn’t the kind of energy she was used too, and it wasn’t physical enough for her liking, but she couldn’t deny that there was something there. Raw emotion, movement, excitement, a veritable wave of zest and vigor. A far cry from the inanimate lump she took him for, and Lynn was left wondering why she hadn’t noticed it before?

‘Never hung around him enough I guess,’ she thought to herself, and then she frowned.

She’s learned a lot about Lincoln this past month of her little sabbatical. Not that he noticed, Lynn never really did anything stealthily which paradoxically made her excellent at it when she tried because nobody expected she was capable of it. She’s also not that great with words and doesn’t know how to tell her little brother that he’s alright.

At least, when he’s not trying to be the biggest dork on the planet. But even then, he’s still cute, one of those rare opinions shared among all the Loud sisters (along with a none-too-small percentage of the female student body population, but you didn’t hear that from me) though mostly centered among the oldest who delighted in both teasing and confiding in him for it. Lynn mostly just teased him, but that’s only because she cared and wanted to get him riled up enough to play with her like he used to. Also, because it was fun.

So, Lynn sits there on the sofa, watching Lincoln play his game as she tries to process this new information and deal with the fact that she might’ve been looking at her little brother all wrong for a while now. Should she apologize? No, Lynn never apologized, and she wasn’t about to start now for fear of it becoming a habit.

She looks over at Lincoln, his eyes wide and the tip of his tongue sticking out, fingers dancing and winding around the controller in his hands. She smiles then, because in some odd way it all gets put together for her like a missing puzzle piece.

Lincoln was... not the most graceful boy. He could be conniving, rude, selfish, had no real sense of decorum nor did he seem to grasp the significance his presence and actions had on the people around him. But Lincoln was not a jerk, her baby brother had all the malicious intent of a dollop of ice cream in that it probably wasn’t healthy for you, but it was sweet all the same.

That’s what he was, sweet. He went to her games even when he didn’t want to, he played with her when he could be doing something else, he stayed with her even when the rest of her sisters had gotten tired of dealing with her.

He also wasn’t the laziest person she knew. He was still lazy of course, but maybe people enjoy different things.  Maybe, and this is just a thought here folks we’re throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks, just because something isn’t an exercise... well that doesn’t mean people can’t get excited about it! Folks put attention and energy into the things they enjoy, whether that’s sports or nerd stuff or whatever!

Lynn mulled this downright controversial notion in her head for a bit, tossing and turning it around as she picked at it, and then she smiled and nodded her head.

She raises her cast and unceremoniously drops it in his lap. He flinches at the impact and she can see his eyes flash over to her briefly as he gives a single grunt in greeting, attention still focused on the screen.

“I love you Lincoln.”

He blinks at that; once, twice. His head suddenly swivels around, and he stares at her with eyes wide and his mouth opened in a little O. She can’t help but snort at the sight and shrugs.

“You’re a pretty cool little brother. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

He opens and closes his mouth but when nothing comes out he opts for a smile instead. And its such a wide smile, such a sincere smile, upper teeth showing as it stretches from ear to ear. Lynn thinks she can see his eyes sparkle and she smiles back at him. Not as wimpy of course, but its no less sincere. The moment is shared for a few seconds before Lynn slowly turns her head back to the television.

“Your character’s dying.”

With a shriek Lincoln turns his attention back to the game and mashes on the controller, desperately trying to get his character to jump away from the horde of monsters surrounding him. Lynn chuckles at the sight and shakes her head.

‘What a kid,’ she thinks to herself with a grin, ‘getting so worked up over a game.’