Crossing Lines

Chapter 1: The Running Champion

The sun was barely up, casting a golden glow over Royal Woods, and the Loud household was already alive with the sounds of chaos. Eleven kids under one roof meant mornings were rarely quiet, but amidst the hustle and bustle, four-year-old Lincoln Loud sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, his silver hair messy from sleep, a juice box clasped tightly in his small hands.

"Hey, Linky, catch!" a voice called out. Lincoln barely had time to look up before a stuffed football sailed through the air, landing squarely in his lap. Lynn, all six years of her, was already charging toward him, her freckled face alight with excitement. She wore her favorite red jersey and a pair of scuffed sneakers that had seen better days. 

"You’re my quarterback now," she announced with a grin, crouching down in front of him. "Ready to throw it back?" 

Lincoln hesitated. He wasn’t much of an athlete, and the football felt oversized in his small hands. But the way Lynn was looking at him—her brown eyes shining with encouragement—made him want to try. 

“Okay,” he said, scrunching up his face in concentration. With all the strength his little arms could muster, he tossed the ball. It wobbled through the air, barely traveling a few feet before hitting the carpet with a dull thud. 

Instead of teasing him, Lynn clapped her hands. “Nice one, bro! You’re getting better!” 

Lincoln beamed, his chest swelling with pride. He knew he wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, but Lynn always made him feel like he was part of the team. 

"Now let's work on your spiral!" she said, grabbing the ball and pulling him to his feet. 

The morning turned into an impromptu training session in the backyard. Lynn darted around the grass, showing Lincoln how to plant his feet, how to aim, and how to follow through with his throw. He didn’t get it right every time—in fact, he rarely got it right—but Lynn never seemed to mind. 

“You’re doing awesome, Linky,” she said after a particularly wild throw that nearly hit the fence. She tousled his hair affectionately, and he giggled. 

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, their other siblings began to trickle outside. Lori was on the porch, glued to her phone, while Leni sat nearby, sketching dress designs. Luna had her guitar slung over her shoulder, strumming a tune that drifted through the yard. But even with all the noise and activity, Lincoln’s world felt small, focused entirely on Lynn and the game they were playing. 

By the time Mom called them in for lunch, Lincoln was flushed and sweaty, his energy almost spent. Lynn slung an arm around his shoulder as they walked inside. “Good job out there, QB,” she said, her voice full of pride. 

Lincoln looked up at her, his face glowing. “Thanks, Lynn. You’re the best.” 

Later that night, after baths had been taken and stories had been read, Lincoln lay in his tiny bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the soft murmurs of his sisters talking in the hallway and the occasional creak of the floorboards. But what stood out the most was the memory of Lynn’s laugh, the way it had filled the backyard and made everything else fade away. 

Even at four years old, Lincoln knew that having six sisters was a lot. It could be overwhelming and loud and chaotic. But with Lynn, it never felt that way. She was always there, cheering him on, making him feel like he mattered. 

And in his heart, he knew: if he ever had to pick someone to be on his team, it would always be her.