"Mabel, I swear to God, if you touch that radio dial again I am going to superglue your hands to the dashboard," Dipper threatened, glaring angrily out the windshield into the darkness of the Oregon woods. As far as I could see, we were the only car for miles. The only things visible outside the old beat up minivan were the faint outlines of the edges of trees, illuminated by the glow of the yellow headlights.
"It's not my fault all this music sucks!" complained Mabel, crossing her arms and drawing her head down into her shoulders, her turtleneck coming up around her ears. "Forgive me for wanting to listen to something more tasteful."
"Tasteful?" I snorted. "Mabel, when you had control of the radio, we listened to Sev'ral Timez for two hours. If I hear another sickeningly cheerful song by a fake-ass boyband, I'm gonna puke," I snapped.
"Oh yeah?" Mabel retorted, whirling around to glare at me in the backseat. "All you and Dipper want to listen to is old people music and the news!"
"THAT'S ALL THAT'S ON!" shouted Dipper, clenching the steering wheel.
"Guys, guys, I have a solution," I said, bending over to get something out of my backpack. "I brought CDs."
"Thank the heavens," said Dipper, sighing in relief. Mabel gave me a suspicious side eye.
"Alright, so we got My Chemical Unromance, Twenty Two Pilots, Fallup Boy, Think About Dragons, Perturbed, Two Fisted Death Punch, and ooooh! Linkin Perk!" I said, going through my CDs.
"Do you have anything less cliche emo?" sassed Mabel, rolling her eyes.
"Well I do have Excitement! at the Party, but I'm guessing that's a bit too much for your tastes still, huh," I replied.
"I like them, they're fine," said Dipper.
"I don't," growled Mabel.
"Well we could always listen to-" Dipper began, but Mabel cut him off.
"If you say BABBA I am going to scream," she threatened.
"Wait, you have BABBA?" I asked. BABBA was one of those bands that I liked, but would never publicly admit to it. Disco Girl was my favorite of their songs. It was just so catchy!
Dipper turned from the driver's seat to give me this look of pure joy, the likes of which I hadn't seen before. "You like BABBA?" he asked.
"DIPPER! EYES ON THE ROAD!" I screeched, lunging forward and pointing.
"Sorry!" he exclaimed, and whirled around. "Favorite BABBA song?" he asked tentatively, after a moment.
"Okay, don't laugh," I said, embarrassed.
"I won't, I promise," said Dipper.
"Disco Girl."
"NO WAY ME TOO!" he shouted. "That's it, I'm playing it."
"NOOOOOO! GOD HAVE MERCY!" wailed Mabel, throwing up her hands and putting her head down on the dashboard of the car. Dipper ignored her protests, and soon the car was filled with the sound of the Icelandic girl group's best song.
When the song was over, Mabel flopped back in the seat. "You guys are the worst," she complained.
I walked into class for the first time. My family had made me move halfway through my senior year, halfway across the country for their new jobs. I looked down at the schedule in my hands. My guide for the week (that was something this school did for new students) was named Mason Pines, and he was in my homeroom.
I slid into the seat next to him. His nose was buried in a really old looking book, and he had a blue and white hat on.
"Hi Mason," I sid. No response. "Mason?" Again, nothing. "Mason Pines? Mason Pines? MASON PINES?" Jesus, was this kid deaf? "PINES!" I shouted.
He let out a sound that was a cross between a yelp and a scream, accidentally throwing the book in the air. He turned to look at me with a sheepish look on his face.
"Hi," he said. "You must be Jamie. It's nice to meet you."
"You're Mason, right? It's nice to meet you too!" I replied.
"Well, my name is Mason, but no one ever calls me that," he said. "Everyone calls me Dipper."
"Dipper?"
"Dipper."
"Huh."
"Yeah. That's why I didn't respond when you called me Mason. Literally the only people who ever call me that are my parents when they're mad at me," he explained, gesturing with his hands.
"Oh okay, sorry Dipper," I said.
"It's alright, you didn't know." He picked his book back up and kept reading it.
"What book is that?" I asked. It had a number three written in an embossed six fingered hand on the cover, and was bound in what looked like maroon leather.
"It's a journal," he said. "I've had it for years."
I leaned over his shoulder to get a look. It was full of what looked like field notes on… cryptids! "YOU LIKE CRYPTIDS!?" I exclaimed.
"Uhhh…" he said, sounding somewhat unsure. "Yeah. A lot."
"Me too!" I cried. "What's your favorite?"
"Hm," he said, stroking his chin. "I made friends with this thing called a Multibear once. I'd have to go with that."
That was… weird. He wasn't lying. See, I have this weird ability where if I spend some time around a person, I can learn their tell for lying really quickly. And I can always tell when someone is lying, no matter what. And Dipper Pines was not lying. "You're… you're not lying," I said, giving him a peculiar look.
"Why would I be?" he asked, as the bell rang and class commenced.
"Hey, Jamie!" I heard Dipper's voice, and felt a hand shaking my shoulder. "You fell asleep in the car. We're here! At the Mystery Shack!"
I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "I'm in Gravity Falls?"
"Yep!" chirped Mabel. "Jamie Birch, welcome to Gravity Falls, Oregon!"
Dipper had to help me out of the car, because I was so unsteady on my legs. When I get tired, my body forgets how to function to the point where I look and sometimes act drunk.
"I am so fu-"
"Language," Dipper warned. "I don't want Soos to kick you out."
"I am so… frickin' tired," I complained, one arm draped over Dipper's shoulders.
"Yeah, well you didn't drive the whole way," laughed Dipper, supporting my body weight and walking me into the Mystery Shack.
"Yeah, well I offered to help with the driving!" said Mabel. "But you refused!"
"That's because I value life," I said.
"You're a terrible driver," Dipper said to her.
She was about to protest, but let out a huge yawn instead. "I'm going into the attic to sleep," she said.
"Yeah, me too. We can unload the minivan tomorrow," said Dipper. "Oh, Jamie, Grunckle Stan said you can have the spare room."
"Okay!" I chirped, sounding more awake than I felt.
I got settled in the spare room, and was lying in bed. The lights were off, and the only thing I could see was the four squares of silver moonlight on my floor from the window. The house was silent and still… and WHAT WAS THAT?
I sat bolt upright in bed. It sounded like something dragging its nails over the window. I glanced suspiciously at the glass, but saw nothing. I layed back down, attributing the sound to my own overactive imagination and the unfamiliar room.
Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard it again. I sat bolt upright in bed. That's it. There's no way in hell I'm sleeping alone.
I threw the covers off my legs and slid out of bed. Grabbing my phone, I turned on the flashlight setting and quietly walked across the room, pillow under one arm and blanket thrown over my shoulder. Opening the door, I crept into the hallway, up the stairs, and into the attic. I knocked on the door.
It was Mabel who answered. "Jamie?" she asked, through a clear retainer. "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep," I said. "This place freaks me out at night."
"Let her in," I heard Dipper say, his voice muffled probably by his pillow.
"Yay, sleepover!" cheered Mabel.
I shuffled into the room, tossed my pillow on the floor, and rolled up in my blanket. I fell asleep quickly, in the moonbeam that shone through the triangular stained glass window, the one that depicted the Eye of Providence.
