Ever since Steven claimed he was "kidnapped" by "giant alien women," Beach City had been overrun with strange new faces. Peedee wasn’t sure how much of the story he believed—aliens, magic powers, saving the universe—but he couldn’t deny what he’d seen. Steven had brought an array of colorful, androgynous visitors to town. They looked human enough but with jewel-toned skin, strange accessories, and abilities that defied explanation. Peedee kept his distance, though, having learned early that getting involved with Steven’s adventures only led to stress and magic bologna. At least Steven respected his request to leave the fry shop out of it.

Still, it was hard not to feel left out. Business was slow on the boardwalk, and Peedee spent most days manning the counter, watching life pass him by. His brother Ronaldo ran around fanboying over the Gems, trying to document their every move, while their dad praised these newcomers for doing little chores. No one ever turned to Peedee for help, though. To them, he wasn’t Peedee—he was just "fryboy," the kid behind the counter slinging fries.

Leaning against the vendor counter, Peedee let the salty breeze ruffle his blond, wavy hair—hair that Ronaldo always said looked like steak fries. He hated that comparison but couldn’t deny it. His usual outfit, a white tank top, khaki shorts, and yellow sandals, felt more like a uniform than clothing. As he stared out at the quiet boardwalk, he tried to push aside the ache in his chest. Everyone else seemed to have found a place in Steven’s new world. Everyone except him.