Goodbye Royal Woods

The engine of Vanzilla didn’t just hum; it rattled with a rhythmic, percussive desperation that matched the mood of its occupants. They were three hundred miles into a journey that felt like a descent into a heat‑shimmering purgatory. The lush greens of Michigan had been replaced by the scorched, dusty browns of the long road toward Saguaro Pines. Inside the van, the air conditioning was a distant memory, replaced by the collective breath of eleven siblings and two parents, all growing increasingly irritable as the odometer clicked forward.

Lori Loud sat in the passenger seat, her thumb moving with the speed of a hummingbird’s wing across her phone screen. “This is literally the worst day of my life,” she announced for the fourteenth time since they crossed the state line. “I’ve had one bar of signal for the last fifty miles. One bar, Mom! How am I supposed to maintain my relationship with Bobby if I’m literally living in a digital dead zone? Saguaro Pines sounds like a place where they haven’t discovered fire yet, let alone 5G.”

Behind her, Leni was oblivious to the existential dread. She was busy braiding a length of colorful yarn she’d found in the glovebox, brow furrowed in intense concentration. “Don’t be such a gloom‑vortex, Lori,” Leni said. “I read in a magazine that the desert air is really good for your pores. It’s like a giant, natural sauna that never turns off! Plus, I bet we can find some really pretty rocks to make jewelry out of.”

“This is literally the worst idea ever,” Lori retorted. “Dad, tell me again why we’re moving to a place named after a cactus? Are we becoming survivalists? Are we going to start wearing burlap and eating lizards? Because if so, I am literally out. I will hitchhike back to Royal Woods right now.”

“Now, honey,” Rita Loud said from the driver’s seat, her eyes fixed on the shimmering horizon. “Your father’s new job at the Saguaro Observatory is a huge opportunity. It’s a fresh start for everyone.”

In the very back, squeezed between Lynn’s soccer gear and Luan’s trunk of puns, Lincoln sat with his knees pulled up to his chest. Bun Bun rested in the crook of his arm, and beneath the other he clutched a reinforced cardboard box containing his life’s work — every single issue of Ace Savvy, bagged and boarded with surgical precision.

To Lincoln, the move wasn’t just about a new house; it was about protecting his sanctuary. He’d spent days worrying that the desert air might make his precious pages brittle. He’d even scripted a new Full Deck adventure featuring a desert‑themed villain named The Dust Devil, but reality felt far more daunting than any comic plot.

“Hey, Linky! Bro! Put these on!” Luna shouted, lunging over the middle seat and nearly toppling Lana’s frog terrarium. She thrust a pair of heavy‑duty headphones toward Lincoln.

The moment he slipped them on, the van’s chaos vanished beneath a wall of sound — heavy, melodic, and layered with polished angst.

“What is this?” Lincoln asked.

“Linky Park, bro!” Luna screamed. “Their lead singer, Preston Wellington? He’s literally a god. Look at him!”

She shoved her phone in front of his face, showing a rain‑slicked stage and a man with messy dark hair and a piercing gaze, performing under stormy lights. He wore a vintage Ace Savvy “One of the Full Deck” tour shirt from 1994.

“Woah, bro. You’re like famous!” Luna added, pointing at the screen. “Look at what he’s wearing! That’s a vintage Ace Savvy shirt! He’s a total fan, Lincoln!”

Lincoln stared. Seeing his favorite hero on the chest of a rock star felt like a bizarre crossover event.

“Preston Wellington likes Ace Savvy?”

“He’s obsessed!” Luna gushed. “I read this interview — he grew up in Royal Woods reading comics at the shop on Franklin Avenue! I’m starting a cover band in Saguaro Pines — The Saguaro Shadows!”

Lori groaned. “Linky Park sounds like a brand of industrial glue. And Preston Wellington sounds like a name for expensive crackers.”

“It’ll totes be cool, Luna!” Leni chimed in. “We can make you a stage outfit out of cactus silk! Very avant‑garde desert‑punk!”

“This is literally the worst idea ever,” Lori muttered, returning to her phone. “We’re going to arrive and I’m literally going to turn into a pillar of salt — except I’ll be a pillar of salt with very expensive hair.”

Lincoln looked down at Bun Bun, then at his box of comics. Maybe the desert wasn’t just sand and heat. If Preston Wellington could make it out of Royal Woods and still wear an Ace Savvy shirt, maybe Saguaro Pines wouldn’t be so bad.

The van hit a massive pothole, sending Lynn’s soccer ball bouncing off the ceiling and causing Luan to honk her joke‑horn. “Hey! That was a wheel big surprise!”

Groans filled the van.

“This is literally the worst day of my life,” Lori whispered.

“Totes cool!” Leni replied, pointing at a giant saguaro cactus. “Look, Lori! That one looks like it’s waving at us!”

Lincoln hugged Bun Bun tighter. They were almost there. He just hoped the new house had a room with a good lock — or at least a sturdy shelf for his comics. Because in a family this loud, even the desert wouldn’t be quiet for long.

Luna hummed the chorus to the Linky Park song, fingers drumming on Lincoln’s seat. “Preston Wellington, man,” she whispered. “We’re going to meet him one day, Linky. I can feel it in the vibrations.”

Lincoln smiled. In the world of the Louds, even a move to the middle of nowhere felt like the start of a very strange, very long, and very loud adventure.

“Saguaro Pines, here we come,” he whispered.

“Literally,” Lori sighed. “Totes,” Leni agreed. “Rock on,” Luna breathed.

And Vanzilla, with one last rattling gasp, carried them down into their new life.