A Year to Remember
Chapter 1: First Day of School
September 1, 2014
Greetings loyal followers! Have you missed me? I know I've missed you.
Anyway, this is a Gravity Falls AU that is grounded in reality, no monsters, or ghosts, or zombies, or anything like that. I only like Gravity Falls because of Dipper and Mabel. I haven't seen a whole lot of episodes so I'm just writing this fic with the little information I have.
The sun rises on a clear and crisp late-summer morning. Birds that have awoken long before the citizens of Gravity Falls continue chirping their melodious tunes. The air is calm and cool, having yet to be heated up by the sun's rays.
I'm aware of an annoying sound filling the room. My brain defogs moments later enabling me to realize that an alarm clock is playing some lousy, dime a dozen pop song.
I clench my teeth and press my pillow up against my ears to block out the noise, soon faintly making out the sound of the bed adjacent to mine creaking. The annoying song stops and is replaced with a common greeting.
"Good morning, Dipper!" A feminine voice chirps to me, even more upbeat than the chirping coming from the birds outside the triangular window looking out over the bedroom.
I groan in response. As much as I want to return the gesture with the same amount of enthusiasm, I just can't summon the energy to do so. Not now. Not this early in the morning, on the first day of school no less.
I hear her softly place her feet on the floor and briskly walk over to me. She firmly places her hands on where one of my shoulders is and begins to shake me like an out of order vending machine.
"You alive? Come on! It's the first day of school. You don't want to be late on your first day of high school do you, Dipmeister?"
In all my 15 years of life, I just can't understand how my twin sister Mabel can almost always be so energetic and ecstatic. "There's still plenty of time," I say, my voice muffled, but still intelligible from under the blanket.
Mabel stops shaking me, I assume to take another look at the clock.
"Well, all right. I'm gonna go take a shower."
I let out another groan.
"If you don't beat me to the bathroom, I may just end up using all the hot water."
No hot water in exchange for a few extra minutes of rest? I decide to accept that offer.
Mabel steps out of the room and is back in what feels like only a few seconds later.
"Your turn," she says.
"Huh…?" I remove the covers from my face to see Mabel standing before me; hair still wet, wrapped in nothing but a pink towel, a bright smile on her face showing perfectly straight teeth. She used to wear braces but had had them removed over the summer, now she shows off her radiant smile whenever she can. It's almost enough to distract my mind from circling back to the fact that she's only wearing a towel. I can make out her developing breasts pressed firmly between her arm and chest.
"Gah, Mabel!" I shriek. "Do you mind?"
"Sorry," she says in a way that tells me she doesn't see what the big deal is, "I forgot to bring an extra set of clothes with me to the bathroom."
I groan and begin to get up.
"No wait, don't look!" She cries and begins to lose her grip on the towel.
I yelp and bury my head back underneath the blanket.
"I'm just messing with you, bro," She laughs and lightly punches me with her free hand.
I scowl at her as I get out of bed and make my way towards the bathroom, making sure to remember to grab my clothes that I'd set out the previous night for today as well.
And of course, Mabel used up all the hot water.
I resist the urge to cry out as the sharp pin sensation of the water beads assaulting my body cause me to seize and then convulse. I hurry up and wash myself in record time, wishing that I could wash the memory of my nearly indecent sister from my mind as well, but the thought continues to linger for some reason. Her radiant smile between her two rosy cheeks… The ones on her face, of course. Water slowly dripping down her wet hair and lean arms and legs, a few droplets resting comfortably on her budding breasts. I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head.
As soon as I'm done showering and dressed in my usual getup of a red t-shirt, dark blue vest, tan cargo shorts and hat (luckily the schools in Gravity Falls aren't strict about students wearing hats), my senses begin to detect a smell lingering in the air. The unmistakable smell of sizzling bacon. I race downstairs to find my grunkle Stan dressed in his usual morning attire: wife beaters and boxers. My sister and I call him grunkle because he's our great uncle. Clever, am I right?
"Morning fresh meat—I mean freshman," he jokingly greets.
"Morning." I respond and make my way to the kitchen table where Mabel is sitting at as well, fork and knife in hand. I can see that she's wearing a pink fluffy sweater that looks like it belongs to a suburban 1980's mom.
I take my seat and not long after, grunkle Stan sets the breakfast on the plates in front of us; scrambled eggs and bacon, can't go wrong with those.
"I can't believe you little devils are already freshman," he says, "It seems like just yesterday that I got the call that my nephew's wife was having twins and now look at you, just turned 15 yesterday and going into high school." He pauses, as though he's remembering my sister's and I's parents fondly. "I'm sure they'd both be very proud of you two."
Mabel and I both smile softly at that. Our parents passed away unexpectedly three years ago, and our grunkle Stan was the only family member who was able to take care and provide for us. We have other family members, sure, but every Summer our parents would send my sister and I to his home in Gravity Falls, Oregon for some much-needed fresh air from the dirty California smog. We had been so used to staying with him, that he'd become like a third parent to us. He loves us both dearly, and we both love him.
Soon, we both finish our breakfast, put the dishes and silverware in the sink and make our way towards the front door where our shoes and backpacks are waiting for us.
Grunkle Stan sees us off. "Have a wonderful day you two," he says, kissing Mabel on the head and patting me on mine.
"We will!" Mabel says.
I wave, wishing I could say the same as we begin the not too long trek to school. Unfortunately, in a not so big town like Gravity Falls with a population of approximately eight thousand there's no school buses or anything. Normally it's not a big deal on a beautiful day like today, but when the weather is bad, it can be a big pain.
Some cars pass us as we walk at a leisurely pace on the sidewalk. Some probably with adults driving heading to work, others probably high school seniors heading to the same place we are. At one point a black Chevy pickup truck passes us, almost seeming to slow down as it does, I can't see who's driving it because all of the windows are slightly tinted just enough to obscure the view inside. I wonder if that's even legal before the truck speeds off.
Oh well, it's none of my business what people do with their vehicles. My only business right now is getting to school.
I don't mind school, it's just that, unlike Mabel, I have trouble making friends. Even some of the friends I've made in Gravity Falls tend to be a few years older than me because I'm pretty mature for my age. Even so, I usually keep to myself and spend time reading and writing. I have a big interest in the paranormal and supernatural, it's one of the many reasons I like staying with Grunkle Stan. He owns a place called the Mystery Shack where he displays oddities and sells souvenirs. It's quite the attraction to tourists but usually only in the Summer. Now that that's nearly over, business will most likely slow down. But the town does have quite the reputation when it comes to hauntings and cryptids, drawing in amateur bigfoot researchers and ghost hunters who usually stop by to scope out the place. Unfortunately, I've never witnessed anything unexplainable myself, but fingers crossed.
Mabel tries to make conversation with me, but my mind is elsewhere; like to my old house in California; what would I be doing right now if I still lived there? I'd probably be on a nice, air-conditioned bus to a school where the student population would be over three thousand. A lot of them being jocks who would shove me in lockers and girls who would be more obsessed with looking pretty than showing human decency.
Then my mind shifts to my great uncle's Mystery Shack, will he honestly be able to keep up with that place for much longer? I mean, the man is in his early 60's, he may be fit for his age, but not even he can hold that place up forever, I wouldn't mind taking charge of that place should he ever retire, but still, the times are always changing, how long will people be interested in a place like the Mystery Shack? People can easily just look up oddities on their smart phones, stream all kinds of mystery shows and whatnot on fancy gadgets. I was never too keen on getting the latest iPhone or video game console. I'm quite content with old Nintendo systems and flip phones. How long until Television dies, too? Shows are always coming and going I can't even recall what the most popular basic cable TV show is at the moment. It's all about premium channels now. Isn't one of the most popular shows on right now, some kind of fantasy show about incest or something?
That question makes my mind wander to Mabel when she was covered in nothing but a wet towel. What if she really did lose her grip on that piece of cloth? I imagine her freaking out and trying desperately to cover her breasts and lady parts while I can't bring myself to look away.
I have to physically shake those thoughts out of my head for what's already the second time today.
I then notice Mabel looking at me expectedly, like she just asked me a question.
"Huh?" I mutter, probably looking like an idiot who has never spoken a single coherent sentence in his life.
She looks away and casts her gaze down at the sidewalk, "Nothing," she says, sounding a little disappointed, the slightest hint of a frown on her face.
I feel like the biggest jerk in the world right now. My sister is trying to talk to her closest and only living first-degree blood relative and here I am just too engrossed in my own little world to listen to her.
Just then a loud, low-pitched voice calls out to us and we change our attention to the path ahead of us and see a short Asian girl with straight, dark hair and glasses; and a plump, light-skinned girl with brown hair done up in a ponytail waving at us at an upcoming juncture. We recognize them as Mabel's friends; Candy being the shorter one and Grenda being the more rotund one who called out to us.
I'm relieved to see Mabel's face brighten up before she hurries a few yards ahead of me to greet her friends with hugs. They all talk excitedly like they haven't seen each other in months, even though they literally hung out with Mabel yesterday, during her and I's birthday party. While I am somewhat friendly with these two girls, I kind of wish I could have friends like Mabel does, friends who share the same interests as me and aren't into things like boy bands and makeovers.
The four of us continue making our way to school. I'm glad Mabel has someone else to talk to now besides me. I just focus on the direction ahead as the girl's voices drone on. I've learned to drown them out at this point, a sort of defense mechanism my brain has developed to help me fall asleep whenever Mabel would have the two girls over for slumber parties and they'd spend all night singing karaoke and playing truth or dare.
The school comes into view; It's a modest brick building, that has grown from a single classroom from when this town was founded to the well-expanded upon double story rectangle that can hold around one thousand students. It would still pale in comparison to what my high school back in California would be like.
There are students milling about in the schoolyard; some standing around chatting, others standing in groups texting (presumably each other), others are looking confused as they look down at pieces of paper in their hands probably trying to figure out what to do or where to go.
We reach the school right as a white limousine pulls up in front of it. Several students stop what they're doing and look at it. Even Mabel and her friends cease chatting momentarily to glance at the thirty-foot-long vehicle. An emblem on the side of it don the letters N.W.
I already have a feeling I know who is inside the luxurious vehicle before they even step out of it.
The chauffeur briskly, but classily makes his way to one of the doors and opens it.
The passenger's Ugg boots come into view before the rest of them does, and out steps a blonde girl wearing a purple jacket over a lavender skirt.
I can't see her eyes behind a dark pair of sunglasses resting on her face, but I imagine that they're closed all high and mighty like as she strolls at a leisurely pace past her chauffeur without saying a word, her hoop earrings swaying with every step. She gives off an arrogant and snotty vibe, her nose is literally held high, like she's too good for this school and the people in it.
"Ew, is that Pacifica Northwest?" Grenda blurts out.
"I thought she was homeschooled." Candy says.
I don't know why Pacifica is here instead of at her mansion with a private tutor, or attending a private school like how I assume most kids who come from wealthy families are educated, but I don't care. I just want to get to my locker as soon as possible, but no one else is moving, they're all still watching the spoiled rich girl walk into the building, not paying anyone the slightest bit of attention. I wonder if she is just putting on an act of not caring, she probably secretly enjoys the attention she's getting, having all eyes on her. It's no different from getting hundreds on likes on Instagram.
As soon as Pacifica is out of the picture, the limo drives away and life resumes on the school yard. Several of the kids are probably speculating among themselves as to the reason why the scene that just played out in front of them happened. I even hear Mabel and her friends begin to talk about Pacifica.
None of it matters to me, though. She's just a kid whose being forced to attend school like the rest of us. My only goal right now is to find my locker and get to the auditorium to attend freshman orientation.
With my sister and her friends only a few paces behind me, I enter the building.
The lobby of the school is even more active than the school yard. Kids are still standing around talking, presumably about mundane things like how their Summer's went and where they spent it, or what classes they have. I have to squirm to get past the ones inconsiderate enough to engage in conversation right in the middle of the hallway, Mabel is holding on to my backpack like a kid to a parent's hand, not wanting to get separated in the jostling crowd. I throw back a few quick glances to make sure she's still right behind me.
Mabel bids farewell to Candy and Grenda as her and I reach the hall where our assigned lockers are (Candy heads to a different section of the hallway since she too is a freshman, Grenda heads to the sophomore section of the school since she is a year ahead of us). The school was kind enough to put my sister and I's lockers next to each other, but I groan internally when I spot Pacifica directly next to my locker as well. She looks somewhat annoyed at having to put her school supplies away all by herself, like she's used to having someone else doing even the simplest of tasks for her.
I try my best to avoid looking in her direction as I imitate her and everyone else's actions of entering my locker combination and putting away or keeping the necessary school supplies. Thankfully, she doesn't even acknowledge my existence and shuts her locker with what might be more force than is necessary before walking off.
As soon as I'm done attending to my locker, I shut it with the proper amount of force and wait for Mabel to put her things away. Thing is, though, she's brought a lot more things than I did: foam letter stickers to spell out her name with, pictures of the lead singer from her favorite boy band Sev'ral Timez, pictures of cute animals and group pictures of her and her friends.
If I had a wristwatch right now, I'd be looking at it like a baby boomer losing his patience. "Hurry Mabel or we're gonna be late," I say.
She snickers. "You're worried about being later for orientation?"
I sigh in exasperation. I've always been the more responsible and organized of the two of us. And while I've learned to be patient with her over the years sometimes her carefree attitude is almost a little too carefree, which makes me ponder how she'd do without me having to occasionally reel her back into reality.
She still continues to take her sweet time; she even begins to hum a cheerful tune to herself which almost feels like it's out of spite.
Eventually she does finish sprucing up her locker with only five minutes left to spare.
"Lead the way, brother," she instructs, and I sigh again with relief this time.
…
We reach the auditorium just in the nick of time. I take a random seat near the back. Mabel sits next to me.
There are still some kids talking by the time a man who is most likely the principal makes his way to the center of the stage. A gray-haired man who appears to be in his mid-sixties and whose toupee is obvious even from back where I'm sitting.
He greets everyone with a "Good morning!" Hardly anyone says anything back and even the kids that do return the greeting do so half-heartedly. He then introduces himself and begins a spiel that I can only assume he has recited at least a dozen times by now, only changing the year of when our class will be graduating. He brings up the history of the school, academics, extracurricular activities, what to expect within the coming years. It takes everything I have to keep my head up and not let my eyes droop. I turn towards Mabel and while she has the same disinterested look on her face as well, she at least does a better job of paying attention.
The defense mechanism of tuning people out subconsciously returns, and the principal's voice becomes hollow and muffled. My gaze on my twin sister lingers longer than I initially intend it to, and she meets my gaze from the corner of her eye. A slight smirk forms on the corners of her mouth, like she thinks my looking at her is that of a game or a challenge.
I look away and try my best to brush it off, but my cheeks feel like there is heat radiating off them for some reason.
Eventually, the principal gives his closing statements and ends the speech with an enthusiastic "Go Beavers!"
Some kids laugh at that, others cheer.
I do nothing but stand up and stretch, if you'd asked me to repeat a single line from the principal's speech right now besides Go Beavers, I would not for the life of me be able to.
Mabel and I make our way to the exit with the rest of the crowd.
I turn to her and ask, "Do you know where your first period class is?"
She waves me off, "Of course I do, it's that way," she turns and points, then a dubious look forms on her face, "Or… is it that way?" she points in an entirely different direction.
"Mabel…" I start, but she interrupts me.
"I'm just messing with you, bro," she chuckles and lightly punches me on the arm for the second time that morning.
I sigh. I really have to stop letting Mabel fool me like that.
"Okay," I say, casually playing off her joke, "See you at lunch."
She returns my saying and holds out a fist for me to bump, which I do. Then, for the first time that morning, the two of us go our separate ways.
…
The first half of the day passes with relative ease, in typical first day of school fashion, all of the classes involve everyone introducing themselves and saying at least three interesting things about each other, eventually ending with the teachers explaining future lessons and what we'll go over for the semester.
Lunch period eventually breaks the mold, it's there where the freshman have a chance to interact and mingle with upperclassman, most decide to sit with people their own age, though. I pay for a modest lunch containing almost every member of the food group while Mabel's sweet tooth gets the better of her causing her lunch to consist of nothing but cookies and cupcakes.
"Mabel if you only get junk food to eat, you'll end up losing your teeth and I'm pretty sure dentures are worse than braces," I tell her.
Mabel shrugs. "If the good lord didn't want me to eat sweets, then she wouldn't have put them all on the menu."
She? I think to myself… eh, whatever.
As I expected all the lunch tables seem to consist of certain cliques: emos, goths, nerds, band geeks, pretty boys and girls, jocks.
Not sure which group Mabel and I would belong to.
Luckily, we spot Candy and Grenda at a table with other non-conspicuous looking teens and they wave us over.
We join them, Mabel sitting closest to them. They begin to talk excitedly among themselves while I just focus on eating my food, only momentarily chiming into their conversation whenever necessary.
My eyes begin to wander, nonchalantly gazing over the room; seeing random faces that my mind will forget the moment they leave my vision, their conversations lost in the cacophony of their fellow classmates' voices.
That's when my eyes pick up something that actually hold my attention.
The jocks, most of them look to be seniors, all sitting several tables away, but still within my line of sight. If I had to guess, I'd say they were all on the school's football team.
I don't know if it's paranoia, but I swear I catch them throwing quick glances toward our direction. I also don't know if they've noticed me noticing them or if they just don't care that I can tell that they're talking about us.
At first, I assume they're just talking trash about me and the others at my table, but the more I watch, the more I can tell that they're only focused on one member of our group: My sister, Mabel.
I wonder if she's the object of their attention because of her sweater, It wouldn't be the first time that her fashion choice has garnered a few bemused stares, but the more I watch the more I notice some malice in their gazes.
One teen among them seems to be leading the conversation. Even though he's sitting I can still tell that he's tall and wiry. Everyone in the group keeps turning to him and speaking to him and every time he says something, they all seem to chuckle sinisterly.
I have the sudden urge to protectively pull Mabel close to me, my appetite now completely gone.
I don't know if I'm being unreasonable right now. Mabel always tells me that I'm overly cautious, almost to a cynical degree. But I refuse to give anyone the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my twin sister.
I spend the remainder of the lunch period staring at the older group of teens, not taking my eyes off of them, not even caring if they notice. Even when Mabel or one her friends speak to me; I respond to them without even turning to face them.
The bell rings and it's time to go finish off the remainder of the day.
I say goodbye to Mabel and don't take my eyes off of her until she's completely out of view. I then turn to the jocks and they've already dispersed. Seeing as though the senior hall is at the complete opposite end of the building, far away from the freshman hall, I tell myself that there's nothing to worry about and go my own way as well.
…
The rest of the day goes just like the beginning does: introductions to classmates and curriculums.
It's not until the dismissal bell rings that I feel reinvigorated. I make my way past the bustling crowd to meet Mabel back at our lockers. I ask her how her day went, and she says it was fine.
I don't blame her for only using one word to describe the first day of school. What more could you say about a day that was spent mostly introducing yourself to people you're probably never going to talk to or see outside of the building, or talking about subjects you'll never use a single day in your life once you graduate?
She asks me the same question and I give her the same answer, only I'm hurriedly filling my backpack with the necessary supplies to take home with me before a certain rich girl shows up next to my locker.
Once all that is done, we begin to make our way towards the exit with several other students who are just as eager to leave the building as we are. Only Mabel stops once we pass a rack mounted to the wall holding a bunch of pamphlets advertising school clubs and extracurricular activities.
"What's up?" I stop walking to ask her, ignoring the few fellow students who accidentally bump against my arm to get past me.
Her eyes are scanning the rack quickly glossing over several brochures as if she already knows what she's looking for. A hint of recognition finally forms on her face and she quickly grabs a brochure and then just about shoves it in my face.
It happens so swiftly that I have to take a step back to gauge what just happened.
I examine the cover of the brochure; I immediately recognize the sport that it's promoting. A person on the cover wearing a matching white visor and polo shirt and tan-colored pants is swinging a club.
"Golf?" I say.
"Yeah," she excitedly exclaims and brings the brochure too her chest, her eyes looking up dreamily. "I've always wanted to try golf."
I shake my head like a perplexed cartoon character. "Wait, really? What brought this on?"
Mabel looks back at me. "Remember how much fun we'd have playing Mario Golf and going mini-golfing and stuff like that? It always made me want to experience the real thing, and now I've finally decided that this year is going to be the year I get into the swing of things." She pretends to do a golf swing to accentuate the pun. She eagerly awaits my response with her hands on her hips, head tilted and her mouth hanging open excitedly.
I rub the back of my neck. "I dunno, Mabel. I feel like video games and mini golf are completely different from the real thing.
She waves me off. "Oh pffft, says the guy I beat every time we'd play."
"Not every time," I say, defensively.
She holds up an index finger. "Name one time, you've beaten me at anything golf related."
"I…uh… there was that one time where… I almost beat you… but then… I didn't – but only because... uh..."
She starts to giggle.
I groan. As much as I want to support Mabel and her interests, the realist in me wants to remind her that she might be setting herself up for disappointment. But she just seems so happy and giddy, that I'm not sure if I'll be able to drag her down to earth this time.
Might as well try, though.
"Look Mabel, if you really want to do this, then you'll probably have to play against kids who have been playing golf their entire life."
"Mabel Pines never backs away from a challenge," she refers to herself in third person, while striking a Superman pose.
"You'll need to buy a set of golf clubs; I'm pretty sure they can be expensive." I then add.
"grunkle Stan has a set stored away in the attic."
"You'll probably need to buy the proper golf attire."
"Yay! Shopping spree!"
I frantically search for any other excuse to give Mabel the tiniest bit of reservation but can find none.
The crowd of kids passing us by has slowed to a crawl. The sound of echoed voices from beyond the hall bound through the passageway.
My eyes then detect a certain blonde approaching, even Mabel seems to sense a commanding presence, we both look to see Pacifica approaching, nose still held high like it was this morning. She notices us before was have a chance to look away. She slows momentarily, casting judgmental gazes at both Me and my sister. She then regards the brochure Mabel is holding. A scoff leaves her mouth and she continues on her merry way.
What's her problem? I think to myself, bitterly. I then turn back to Mabel and see her looking down, forlornly at the golf pamphlet, the enthusiastic look on her face has vanished completely. The small, wordless interaction with the snooty rich girl seems to have wounded her.
I frown, no longer caring about what is or isn't realistic. If golf is important to Mabel, then it's important to me, too.
"You know what Mabel?" I say, my words compelling her eyes to meet mine, "I think you should definitely take a swing at Golf."
A broad smile spreads over Mabel's face and she squeals with excitement and bounces up and down from foot to foot. The sudden burst of emotion causes the last of the lingering teens to shoot us irritated glances.
Mabel doesn't even notice them; I just smile awkwardly at them and shrug.
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter.
Sorry about the lack of dialogue, this chapter was mostly just exposition, I guess. I'll try harder over the coming chapters.