I love the smell of the cafeteria in the morning. Well, no I don't, but I wanted to say I loved the smell of something in the morning, and I just happened to be in the cafeteria.

The cafeteria in the morning smells like old meat loaf and moldy mashed potatoes.

But all disgusting smells aside, the cafeteria is a great place. Yes, the lunches are terrible, and all taste like Dipper's gym socks. And yes, it's filthy. However, since we're at different intelligence levels, it is the one place where I get to share a class with my bro.

Eighth grade is much harder than seventh. And praise the heavenly pigs controlling the universe that Jeremy's at a different school 'cuz he's in high school now.

"So, Dippingsauce…" I say, poking my brother in the face.

"Mabel, could you try poking me with a finger that DOESN'T have ketchup on it?" he asks me, taking a (slightly used) napkin and wiping off the ketchup.

"Sorry. What's up in your classes, bro? The gossip? Who likes who stuff? INFORM ME OF THE NEWS." I say, widening my eyeballs and getting oddly close to his face.

He takes a hand and pushes my face away, and then says, "I don't know. Honestly, I don't care."

"Oooh…somebody's got a cruuuuush!" I say, teasing him.

"Gah. Mabel, stop." he says, which means that he totally does.

"Is she pretty? She'd better not be prettier than me." I say, pretending to be Pacifica-y. He doesn't laugh. "Why arent'cha laughing, bro-bro? Did I do something?"

He looks at me, probably seeing the anxiousness in my eyes for his answer, and says "It's not you. It's my stupid teacher. She gave me so. much. homework."

"DIP! Fun More, Stress Less!" I say.

"That doesn't even make sense!" he replies, looking back at his homework. Yeesh. Somebody's crushing HARD.

A girl comes over and sits at our table. "Hey, Dipper." she says. Oh. My. GOODNESS. (I've gotten rid of the 'crappy' habit…hahaha pun intended)

She's pretty. Short blonde, big glasses…she looks like someone he would like.

"Hi, Regina." he says, looking back down. I put my hand under his chin and prop his head up. "TALK." I say.

"Is this your girlfriend?" she asks. I stick my tongue out.

"I'm his sister." I say. "I'm five minutes and 14 seconds older. You the girl that my baby brother's cru-" I start, and he puts a hand over my mouth. I try licking it but he's become immune to that habit. Darn.

"So you're here because…" he says. Oh my gosh! How rude. I gotta give him politeness lessons.

"I thought we were going over our English homework." she says, clearly startled by the rudeness.

"Okay." he says. He implies that I should leave, therefore I stay seated. He's left-handed - he can't keep his hand over my mouth forever.

"Mabel…can I have a minute?" he says. I wiggle my eyebrows up and down many times.

"Suuuuuuure…you can have a minuteeeeeeee." I say, and I want to begin to make kissing noises but I can control myself…

I walk over to a random table of sixth graders and say "Sooooo…what's up, you guys? What's the sixth grade gossip? Tell me everything."

They're all looking at me like I came over from Jupiter and not three lunch tables to the right.

"You're an eighth grader." one brave little girl says. I nod and give them a big braces-filled smile.

"Why are you here?" a boy asks.

"Can't a girl hang with her new sixth grade buds?" I ask.

"Who are you?" he asks me.

"I'm Mabel. " I say. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ross." he says, scooting away from me.

"Well, Ross, have you ever…uh…gotten a sticker from an eighth grader?" I ask, pulling out my infamous pink sticker-covered book.

"No." he says. I pull out a sticker with an adorable kitten on it and put it on his forehead.

"There ya go!" I say, walking back over to my table. I think it's been about 60 seconds.

"Man, sixth graders are really awkward." I say as I sit down, and then my mouth drops open.

They were kissing?

Well, either that or something equally embarrassing for me to interrupt because they're bright red.

"And the forms of figurative language are…" he says, clearing his throat.

"Personification, Alliteration, blah blah blah blah blah…" she says.

Welllp, I'm gonna fail the next English quiz.

"Mabel…" Dip says again. I get the hint, and go back over to the table of Ross and company.

"Did you get kicked out of your table group?" Ross asks me. I nod.

"Can I braid your hair?" a girl asks. She tells me her name is Belle.

I nod again.

Soon enough, my hair is braided and the sixth graders are COVERED in stickers. And my brother's still talking with that girl.

I've learned the sixth graders' names, and I'm not as creepy as they thought I was at first.

The lunch bell rings. "Bye, Belle, Ross, Andy, Addy, wait, don't tell me…Rochelle, Phil, and Fiona." I say, pointing to each when I say their name.

Yes. 100% on the sixth grade name quiz goes to Mabel Pines!

I'm standing my my locker when I get the brilliant idea to go talk to my brother. His locker's really only six away from mine so that's good.

"Hey, Dippingsauce." I say. He groans.

"Hi, Mabel."

"So, what was up with that girl?" I ask. He sighs.

"Regina needed English help. So I helped her." he says.

"Did you kiss her?" I ask. Okay, seems intrusive, I KNOW. But I must know.

"What? No. Why would I?" he says.

"You did!" I say. "Tell me!"

"Mabel, really, it was just Math." he says. I realize his mistake a nanosecond before he does.

"You said it was English!" I announce. "You just wanted me to leave so you could KISS HER without me knowing!"

"Mabel, really, it's not li-"

"OH MY GOD! MY BROTHER KISSED A GIRL!" I tell the school. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Come on, seriously? Does Canada have to know too?" he asks. He's turning red again…haha.

"Nope, bro, just Mom and Dad!" I say. "And Candy, and Grenda, and Wendy…ooh, I've got to make a few phone calls, excuse me a sec."

"Mabel. Can you please just keep this one thing a secret?" he asks. "Please?"

"You don't want everyone to know?" I ask. Now I'm confused.

"No, I don't. This is why I wanted you to move tables. You can't keep your mouth shut." he says.

"Hey, I resent that. I can totally keep a secret." I say. "Those sixth graders were really weird about me sitting at their table, by the way."

"I challenge you to keep this one for a month." he says. "If you do I'll give you five bucks."

"You're on." I say.

I can so do this.