Gideon's alarm clock woke Pacifica up before eight o'clock on a Saturday, and almost managed to inflict a panic attack on her in the process.
The thing gave off a high pitched ring-aling-aling that pierced through the thin walls of the Gleeful homestead, and had sent Pacifica scrambling off the air mattress before she could remember where she was.
Or, more accurately, where she wasn't.
Not home. Gravity Falls. Uncle Bud's house.
Thank God.
Pacifica relaxed out of the ramrod posture her mother had instilled in her and slumped back down onto the mattress, trying to calm her pounding heart, trying to emulate her old yoga instructor's breathing techniques.
Ringalingaling-
But her heart still pounded.
That damn bell.
Pacifica stood up and marched out of her uncle Bud's study and into the hallway, where the sound only grew louder. She stomped across the carpet, stopping in front of Gideon's door, and pounded on it. "Gideon, turn that thing off!"
-alingalingalingal-
No reply. Goddamnit, he had told her he was going to set an alarm so he could get up early, but Pacifica hadn't known it applied to that whole house. She punched the door, wincing back as the wood bit into her knuckles. "Gideon!"
Still nothing from her cousin. Down the hall, there was the shuffle of footsteps, and her aunt appeared, moving quickly and quietly past Pacifica and into the kitchen without making eye contact. Pacifica watched her go, momentarily diverted from the crisis of the ringing bell. The woman had yet to speak a word to her, and Pacifica had been staying in her house for two days.
-ingalingalinga-
She returned her attention to the door, which was still unmoved. The bell still rang, setting her teeth on edge. If the thing wasn't turned off soon, she really was going to do something drastic.
Pacifica kicked the door. "Gideon, you ass! Open the stupid door!"
-lingalinga- Click.
Silence. Blessed, beautiful silence.
After the time it took him to just reach over and turn the thing off, she doubted he would actually get up to open the door, so she called "Thank you!" and made a dash for the bathroom. If the little punk was going to wake her up with that demented clock, she was going to shower first. And use up the hot water.
.
By the time Pacifica emerged from her makeshift bedroom in Uncle Bud's study, fully dressed and hair slightly damp, Gideon was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed in his customary black and blue hoodie, his blue star hat perched on the edge of the table. He was fifteen, but with his messy white blonde hair and chubby cheeks, he looked even younger, especially since he was only about five foot two.
A plate of eggs and bacon sat in front of him, so far untouched as he typed furiously on his laptop. Uncle Bud sat across from him, breakfast already finished and the morning's newspaper spread out before him. Her aunt wasn't there, but Pacifica could hear the telltale sound of the vacuum in the living room.
Uncle Bud looked up from his paper as she went past, moving toward the stove, where a saucepan held the remaining eggs, and a paper towel was covered in bacon. "Well, hey there, sleepyhead! We're real sorry about the alarm, aren't we, son?" He looked imploringly at Gideon, who didn't reply, still too focused on his computer.
Pacifica smiled at her uncle; he had been nothing but kind to her thus far, even if he was a little too deferential to his son. "Good morning, Uncle Bud." As she turned her back to them to load up a plate with breakfast- actual breakfast! And she didn't even have her mother sniffing in disgust over every bite she took! -she heard a small thud as Bud lightly slapped his hand against the tabletop, trying to get his son's attention.
By the time she had poured herself a glass of OJ and sat down at the table, Gideon had come back to reality and had a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry, Pacifica, about the alarm. It always takes me a while to wake up, so I keep it loud."
She ignored the impulse to snap at him, and gave him a tight smile. "That's alright, Gideon. But maybe you could use a different sound?" Anything but a bell.
He nodded, and they both dug into their food.
.
After breakfast, Gideon surrendered his precious laptop to Pacifca so she could check her email- still nothing from her parents, about two dozen store offers, and a few from her fall college professors, reminding her and her fellow freshmen of the summer reading they had to do.
Ever since The Incident, her parents had only spoken once to her: "Get in the car. You're going to spend the summer with your uncle." The uncle in question was Bud, of course, but at the time, she hadn't even known he existed, thanks to her mother cutting off all ties with her "common" brother after she married.
Pacifica closed out of her email account, the monitor switching to Gideon's Youtube page automatically, his baby blue banner heading the page. The five pointed star, each point a different color, at its center seemed to stare at her, its single eye somehow both accusing and sympathetic. Gideon's Youtube channel was dedicated to the occult. Because of course it was, why couldn't anything in her life by remotely normal. She had already been subjected to his most recent videos, explaining how all dachshunds were descended from werewolves and how best to defend yourself from rogue dwarfs. Gideon posted videos religiously, researching obscure topics found all over the internet, the town library, or simply any of Gravity Falls' more kooky residents.
Gideon's most popular video, one where he explains how to properly shield your mind from telepaths using salt, tin foil, and determination, had about two dozen views.
Pacifica closed the laptop and handed it back to Gideon, who asked, "You good? Don't have anything else you need to check?"
She shook her head. "Thanks."
Gideon beamed at her. "Great! Then let's go!" He threw himself up out of his chair and flew down the hallway with the laptop clutched in one hand. Pacifica sat frozen for a second before getting up and shuffling after him. "Where are we going?"
"Weren't you listening to anything I said last night?" Gideon called back from his room. He emerged a second later, Chuck Taylors stuffed haphazardly onto each foot, laces untied. "Grab your shoes, we're heading to the Mystery Shack."