Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my character), but, like with Vegas it will soon be mine. (Uh... did I just say that?) A/N: Sorry did not update in so long! Thanks for awesome reviews!

"GUINEVERE!"

I rolled my eyes. "Ryan, I'm sitting right next to you. You don't need to yell. And I've told you to call me Gwen!"

My younger brother, Ryan, seven years old, shrugged. I really hate little brothers. "Are we there yet?"

I gestured out the window. "Does this look like the middle of nowhere?"

"Yes."

"Scratch that- does this look like Mom's house?"

"I dunno. But that woman standing there with the big sign that says, 'Welcome to Gravity Falls, Gwen and Ryan' is confusing me if we're not."

I turned my head. Stupid Gwen. Our mother, with big green eyes and frizzy red hair was there. She had a hot pink sign like Ryan said. I wanted to go home. I didn't want to spend winter with Mom. She was so, how you say, INSANE.

"Go on, kids." Uncle Murry insisted. He was a foster parent, acctually, but insisted we call him Uncle Murry. I don't know why. I don't think he's quite right in the head. That seems to be a pattern with people I know. "I'll pick you up in three days."

"Three days of hell." I grumbled.

"OOH!" Ryan shouted. I'm so greatful Uncle Murry's three-quarters deaf. "UNCLE MURRY, GWEN SAID THE H WORD!"

I clamped a hand over his mouth. "Heh, heh, uh, bye! We'll see you in three days!"


Mom tried to suffocate me. I hadn't seen her in two years, yes. She was in a mental home for a while, or a Sane School as Ryan called it. I hope that clears some up. Anyways, she can only see us for so long. But the doctors say she is mentally sane again. God, I hope Uncle Murry keeps us.

"Gwen, you've gotten so big! Oh, and I see you've shaved your rainbow beard!"

Now you see why she was in the Sane School.

"And Ryan... well, you looked better with the afro."

Ryan frowned. I smirked. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. We got into an old, rusty pick-up truck. "VROOM, VROOM!" Mom yelled. See? This is what I get for being possitive.

I'm surprised we weren't pulled over. We went so fast I couldn't see anything, though I think we hit someone. I don't know. Mom took out litle backpacks inside. I excused myself.

Trudging through the snow is not fun. Trudging through the snow in the forest is not fun. Trudging through the snow in the forest in shorts and a tee-shirt is horrible (It'll be fun, he said. Oregon is warm, he said.). But I had something to do. It's this little weird tradition my dad came up with back when I was five or six. Before he, uh, died. Long story. We burry a little box with a slip of paper in it that says something we want more then anything, something that can't be wrapped. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that does it. But he did it with me.

I took out a fourtune cookie fourtune. It said great fourtune would come my way after an accident. Stupid. Anyways, I took out my glittery black gel pen. I'm not the sparkle type, but I like that pen. Another long story.

In my weird, swirlly handwritting, I wrote carefully,

Winter romance.

I quickly folded it and placed it in a little box I made. I dug a little hole and put it inside. Please, universe, give me something this time!

As I stood up and brushed off the snow, I heard screaming. It wasn't the "Oh-My-God-I'm-About-To-Be-Killed-Save-Me" scream, it was more of a "Out-of-The-Way" sort of scream. I turned around and did the former scream.

Some brunette with the worlds most sparkelly winter jacket... er, sweater, was running toward me with an angry boy behing her. They looked related.

"COMING THROUGH!" she yelled, knocking into me with full force. I flew backwards and hit a tree. Don't you just hate the forest? Then, the world went black.