Summer was over.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the bus ride home would never be.
Mabel was hanging upside down off the back of her seat, whistling a tune to herself. Dipper was staring blankly out the window. Waddles was asleep.
Mabel pulled herself up and bobbed her brother on the back of the head.
"I'm bored, Dip," she moaned.
Dipper didn't respond. Mabel frowned and then shrieked loudly into his ear. He jolted out of his daze as the bus swerved crazily.
"Please don't scream like that!" the bus driver called back to them, sounding out of breath.
Dipper rubbed his ear and glared at her. "Don't do that."
"Sorry," Mabel said, obviously not sorry at all. "Trying to wake you up. What, were you having a flashback?"
"No," Dipper said, readjusting Wendy's hat on his head. "I was just sitting quietly waiting for this drive to be over."
"So you're bored too?" Mabel said in awe. "I knew it."
"Of course, I'm bored!" Dipper replied. "After the summer we just had, everything is gonna seem boring."
"Don't worry, Dipper," Mabel said, patting his back loudly. "I'll think of something."
She held her chin in her hand, stroking a nonexistent beard thoughtfully. Then she snapped her fingers.
"I know! Let's play Mark the Scar!" she said cheerfully, pulling two bright cherry-scented markers out of her backpack.
Mark the Scar was a game they had played since they were old enough to identify a scar when they saw one. You took a pretty marker and you colored in all the scars on you that you could find (and newer cuts, too). When you were done, you counted how many scars you had, and whoever had the most scars won. It made skinning your knees and cutting your fingers much more fun—another scar to add to your score.
Dipper grinned and took a marker. "I'll bet we got all kinds of nifty scars this summer."
"I know I did," Mabel boasted, popping the cap off her marker. "Waddles can testify for that claim."
Waddles oinked agreeably. Dipper raised a challenging eyebrow.
"If I have more scars than you, you have to buy us both snacks at the next stop," he said.
"Done!" Mabel grabbed his hand and yanked it to seal the deal.
"Ow. Okay, mark those scars!"
Markers flew as they hurried to color in their scars. Mabel quickly scratched off a heart shaped one on her knee (she had fallen on a small cookie cutter). Dipper filled in a round one on his heel (he had closed a gate behind him too quickly). Mabel struck out various scratches she had received from cats that didn't find her as friendly as she had intended to be. Dipper quickly colored in his shin scrap scars. Then he stopped.
"I forgot about that," he muttered.
"Forgot about what?" Mabel asked brightly. She looked at his left leg where he was pointing. A very large scar took up a good fifth of his leg, sort of gnarly looking.
"What the heck, Dipper?" she blurted. "Where did you get that?!"
"Um, remember that time you had a sleepover with Candy and Grenda?"
"That wasn't me, Dipper!" Mabel declared loudly. "I don't chew people."
"You did chew that one kid," Dipper countered.
"Well, yeah. But he had just finished eating a bag of Sour Patch Kids! His hands were so sugary!" Mabel planted her hands on her hips. "At that was in preschool. Who chewed on you?!"
"Well, I went outside to get some sleep–"
"Outside?!"
"Yes, outside—you guys were like a hoard of monkeys!"
"Touchè."
"Anyway, I went outside to get some sleep, and this wolf just came over and started chewing on my leg."
"What?! Dipper! You're so much more hardcore that I thought you were!"
Dipper gave her a disgusted look. "The apocalypse didn't already tell you that?"
"I mean before that," Mabel amended. "But seriously, bro-bro! Why didn't you say something?! Or go inside?!"
"Sleeping while a wolf is chewing on your leg is easier than sleeping while you and those two are on a glitter-high," Dipper said, and there wasn't a sign of a smirk anywhere on his face.
"Geez, Dip," Mabel said, putting her marker aside. "What else did I miss?"
Dipper looked himself over. "Uhhhh…. Oh!" He held up his left arm and chuckled awkwardly. "My left side did not enjoy this summer."
Mabel grabbed his arm and peered closely at it. Then she jerked away exaggeratedly in shock.
"What is this from?!" she demanded. His left arm was covered with faint scrape remains, and ten or twenty sets of four raised, bright red dots littered his arm. They definitely weren't mosquito bites.
Dipper rubbed the back of his head and looked away. "Er… when I made that deal with Bill? About the computer?"
"Yeahhhhhh?" Mabel gestured him on.
"Well, when he took over my body, he went on a crazy spree around the house. Like, he dumped me- er, himself in my body, I guess- I dunno. Anyway, he fell down the stairs, almost drowned me in Pitt Cola, and then he slammed my arm in a drawer like a thousand times. My arm was all stuck full of forks and stuff."
"How did I miss this?!" Mabel screamed.
Dipper smirked. "You were a little preoccupied with that puppet show."
Mabel tackled him, hugging him hard. "I'm sorry, Dipper! I'm so blind!"
"Love is not blind, it's blinding," Dipper quipped, patting her on the back. He pulled away. "But honestly, it's okay. Now I have cool battle scars to show off."
Mabel looked downcast. "I know. But still. And really, why didn't you say anything?"
Dipper laughed. "Because every time one thing got solved, another something popped up. I didn't have time!"
Mabel laughed along, then trailed off, slightly disheartened and embarrassed that she had failed to notice her twins very obvious injuries.
Dipper stopped laughing too. He looked at her quietly, then punched her in the shoulder with a grin.
"You owe me some snacks, sister," he said.
She looked up at him and grinned back. Then she stood up on the seat, raised her arms, and screamed:
"I WILL BUY ALL THE SNACKS!"
The bus suddenly jolted sideways. Mabel tumbled into the seat in front of them and Dipper fell onto the floor. Dipper groaned.
"Mabel, don't scream like that. We talked about this."
"COULD YOU KIDS PLEASE NOT GIVE ME AN EVER-LOVIN' HEART ATTACK?!" the bus driver shouted.
Mabel sunk down into her new seat. "Sorry."
A/N: It's hard to tell on cartoon characters, but Dipper is probably jacked up something fierce. I almost considered having his parents notice and have them try to explain them without explaining, but I scartched that and did this instead. Mark the Scar is actually a game me and my siblings play. I almost always win.
If you see any grammer mistakes or something, let me know. Thanks fams!