Heartbreaker
(Winter 2009)
1-Sadder Day
Fourth grade had brought changes for the Pines twins. Oh, they were in the same old school, Eggbert Elementary, but their classroom was on a new hall, the lessons were getting harder, and socially, Mabel had bloomed. No longer just the weird girl, now she had her own possum!
"Posse," Dipper corrected. "The word is posse. Like in cowboy movies, the sheriff rounds up a posse."
"You mean my friends can arrest people?" Mabel asked. She balled her fists. "How cool is that?"
"No," Dipper said. "It's just that you have, you know, a bunch of friends. Not like me."
"They like you fine!" Mabel insisted. "'Cause you got a sick sister!"
"I wish you'd say 'cool' instead of 'sick,'" Dipper said.
It was a cold Saturday morning in January, at least for Piedmont, California, with a light fog outside. Dipper and Mabel sat in front of the den TV, their video game hooked up. It was a racing game, and Dipper, in the blue car, was way ahead of Mabel, in the pink one. She was more interested in flying off unfinished freeway ramps, warping her vehicle into spins, making panicked pedestrians leap off the sidewalk as she demolished parking meters and fruit stands, or trying to crash head-on into police cars than she was in winning the race.
From the living room, where she was vacuuming, Mom called, "How about turning the sound down?"
"Turn your vacuum up!" Mabel helpfully suggested. Dipper got up and found the TV remote and turned the sound way down. Mabel used the time to get within sight of Dipper's car again. She deliberately over-accelerated and her pink sedan fishtailed wildly, oncoming motorists desperately swerving out of her way, though in the case of on old-fashioned Woodie station wagon with surfboard on the roof, that meant plunging off a bridge.
"Eh, they'll hit the waves sooner," Mabel said, unconcerned. "That puts my score at . . . negative three thousand and forty-two! New personal record!"
By now Dipper's blue car was far ahead again, as the map in the top left corner of the screen showed. "I'm coming up on the finish line," he said.
"Wait for me!"
"Not the way it works, Sis."
The blue car sped through a checkered banner, the screen went black, and fireworks bust out as GAME OVER flashed .
Dipper got to put up a new record score for himself: DIP 4998.
"Boo," booed Mabel. "If you'd waited for me like a nice brother, it wouldn't have been that high."
Dipper set his controller down. "Sometimes I get tired of being a nice brother," he said.
"Huh?" Mabel blinked as Dipper got up from his semi-lotus game-playing position and went into the hall. She heard him trudging up the stairs.
In the living room the whirr of the vacuum cleaner ended. Mom called, "Pick up your +
"Dipper will do it," Mabel called back.
Mom looked in. "Dipper isn't here," she said. "You do it."
"Aww. My plans!"
"What plans do you have?" Mom asked.
"I haven't planned them yet!"
"Do it while you pick up and store these cartridges and the game console and joysticks."
"These aren't joysticks," Mabel said. "They're game controllers. There's a difference."
"Put away everything," Mom said firmly. "And don't just toss them in the cabinet. Put them neatly on the shelves. I'll check!"
"OK," Mabel said. She made a game of it, though, unplugging the console, wrapping up the cords almost as neatly as her brother always did—he made long loops and then used twist ties to keep them that way, but she didn't bother with the ties. As she picked up the console, which did not weigh nearly as much as the family cat, Ripper, Mabel walked heavily, as if she were carrying a concrete block. "Got to—get there—before the—slave driver—whips me—again."
"Did you call me a slave-driver?"
Mabel jumped. She had not realized her mother had just rolled the vacuum cleaner into the den. "Me? No!" she said. "I was just thinking about that movie we saw on TV back in Roman times. Remember? The gladiator had to lug off another gladiator's body, and the big heavy guy kept threatening to whip him?"
"Mabel, the controllers and the cartridges, too. Put the cartridges in their bin and put the controllers on the shelf with the console. Please."
The word please sort of cracked the air, like a snapped whip. "Yes, Mom." Mabel did that in one easy trip. "OK now?" she asked, holding open the door of the cabinet, on the bottom floor of a bookcase.
"That's fine," Mom said. "You can go now. Thank you."
"Outside?"
"Too wet and clammy," she said. "Why don't you go read a book?"
"That's more of a Dipper thing, Mom."
"Then go straighten up your closet."
Mabel blinked. "Mayyyyybe I'll go read a chapter in Rachel Robinson," she said. "I can get extra English points if I do a report on it."
"Go on, then," Mom said. "I'll ask you about it later. Judy Blume, right? I've read that book. You ought to like it."
Mabel nodded and put a fake smile on her face. "I'm enjoying it so far."
But as she headed out, Mom asked "What part are you on?"
"Wellll," Mabel said, "I've finished the front cover."
"One point for telling the truth," her mom said. "Now, scoot. Dad says we can to out to a movie this afternoon if I say you guys have been good."
"Kiki's Delivery Service!" Mabel said. "Denise says it's great!"
"We'll talk about it," Mom said. "Let me finish cleaning, though, or nobody's going."
Mabel ran up the stairs. She paused outside of Dipper's room and then, uncharacteristically, tapped. "Come in," her brother said.
She did. He was lying on his bed, not reading, just sort of staring out of his window. He lay on his side, and the gray day didn't throw much light into the room. She climbed onto the bed and sat beside him. "Mom says we can go to a movie later," she told him. "I want to see Kiki's Delivery Service. Will you tell her and Dad you want to see it, too? Pleeeease? Denise says that it's wonderful, about this young witch, just a kid, and she has this talking cat, and in her world witches have to go out and make their own way in the world when they're thirteen, and she can't even fly at first!"
Dipper didn't respond.
Mabel rubbed his shoulder. "Dipper? What's got you down, Brobro?"
"Nothing," he said. "I'll agree with you about that movie."
"What's the title?" she urged.
"Kitten's Delivery Service," he muttered.
"No, no, Kiki's! Hey, Denise says it's really funny and that will cheer you up. Denise says—"
Dipper rolled onto his back but didn't look at her. In a dull voice, he said, "Please stop talking about Denise. Or Patsy."
Denise and Patsy Cromartie lived next door to the Pines family. Denise was eleven, Patsy twelve. They were among Mabel's bffs.
"Sorry," Mabel said. "Hey, did they do something mean or—"
"No," Dipper said.
"Then why can't I—"
Dipper put a pillow over his face. With his voice muffled, he said, "Mabel, every time you talk about Denise or Patsy or June or Marisa or—any of your other very best friends, you remind me."
"Of what?" Mabel asked.
"Not of anything. Just that I don't have any friends I can talk about."
For a few moments, Mabel sat silent. Then, softly, she asked, "Dipper, are you crying?"
"No," he said, and took the pillow down to prove it.
"Aww. Well, anyway, the movie's a cartoon, and, uh, I hear it's just beautiful. There's a boy and a blimp in it, too!"
"Sounds great," said Dipper without much enthusiasm.
After another silence, Mabel asked in a small voice, "Brobro? Is it all right if I bring my book in here and lie down next to you and read a chapter?"
"Why in here?" he asked.
"Because you're my brother and I love you, and I hate to see you feeling all lonely," she said.
Finally, Dipper smiled. "That's nice, Sis. Sure. You bring your book in here, and I'll read one of mine."
Mabel ran to get her book. By the time she came back, Dipper had switched on the two bedside lamps and lay propped on his pillow, an oversized book open on his chest. Mabel read the title aloud: "America's Paranormal Places."
"Mm-hmm," Dipper said.
"Another of your conspiracy theory books," Mabel said, opening her novel to the first page.
"It's more a debunking book," Dipper said.
"A what?"
"Debunking book."
"Oh." Beat. "What's that?"
Dipper sighed. "Debunking means taking the superstitions and rumors and stuff out of mysteries. It's kind of the opposite of conspiracy theories. For instance, this book says that the old Fremont Heights Hotel, which was supposedly haunted, really had no records of the murders that supposedly—"
"Shh," Mabel said. "I'm reading."
Very occasionally, Mabel interrupted him to ask the meaning of some word she couldn't puzzle out from context. "What are anecdotes?"
"Hm? Oh, they're like very short stories. They can be funny or they can be serious to make a point. You remember that stack of old Reader's Digests that Dad got when Granddad Sherman passed? They've got lots of those, like 'Humor in Uniform,' and "Life in These United States.'"
"Huh, I thought it had something to do with poison," Mabel said. "Shh, I'm reading about this character's biography."
Unusually for Mabel, who was wound tight and had to run around every hour or so to burn off some energy, the twins read steadily for more than an hour. Then Mom called from the bottom of the stair, "Kids! Lunch!"
They went downstairs, and this time Mabel won the race by about five lengths. Dad was helping mom in the kitchen. She threw herself on him for a hug. "Mabel!" Dad said, laughing. "One of these days you're going to break my ribs!"
"Tell me when they're just bruised." Mabel said, dropping back to the floor.
Mrs. Pines was using a ladle to pour something steaming, golden, and good-smelling into bowls. "All right, soup and sandwiches for lunch The soup is chicken vegetable—"
"With noodles?" Mabel asked.
"Yes, made from scratch, your grandmother's recipe," Mom said.
"Yum!"
"So," Mom said, finally finishing her thought, "what kind of sandwich do you want, Mabel?"
"Umm. Chicken soup, what goes well with chicken soup?"
"While you're making up your mind, let me ask Dipper."
Dipper shrugged.
Dad suggested, "How about turkey pastrami on wheat?"
"Sure," Dipper said. "Could I have melted cheese?"
"You can," Mom said, smiling.
"OK," Mabel said. "Mabel knows what she wants! A turkey pastrami sandwich on white bread with mayo and lettuce and tomato! A PLT!"
"I can do that," Mom said.
Mabel slipped into her place. "Hey, Dipper, you don't want lettuce and tomato on yours?"
"You know I don't like tomatoes," Dipper said.
"Just checking!" Mabel said. "Ooh, Dad, chocolate milk!"
"One glass each," Dad said firmly as he poured. "If we're going to the movies, I don't want you having to run to the little girls' room every five minutes."
"A PLT, but hold the P," Mabel said. "Got it!"
"Mabel," her mother said, not harshly, "please, not at the table."
The kids had not seen their grandmother Pines for the last several years. When Sherman Pines had passed away, she moved to Florida, where she had family. Mr. and Mrs. Pines were hinting, though, that come summer the family just might make the long trip to Florida to visit her and spend a week there. Mabel didn't even dare ask specific questions. Sometimes it's better not to rock the potential boat, especially when it may be cruising with the pirates in the Caribbean.
Anyway, Grandmother Pines had great recipes, and the chicken-noodle-veggie soup was near the top of her list. Well, except for her pie, cake, and candy recipes, but those were saved for special treats.
Lunch was delicious, and Mabel even helped clear the table and stack the dishwasher. Then Mr. Pines said, "Any suggestions about which movie to see?"
Mabel nudged Dipper. He whispered, "I forgot the name!"
"Kiki!" she whispered back.
"Kiki's Delivery Business," he said.
"Service," Mabel corrected.
"I mean Service," Dipper said. "It's an animated cartoon, but it's supposed to be for all ages."
"It's set in Japan!" Mabel added.
"Where's it playing?" Mr. Pines asked.
"The Kinogram!" Mabel said.
Mrs. Pines raised her eyebrows. "Isn't that an art house?"
"Wait, I think that's an old film," her husband said. "Where's the paper?"
He found it, found the movie listings, and checked. "Yes, it's at the Kinogram," he said. "And it's part of a festival with three other movies by—Miyazaki, I think the name's pronounced. They're all G-rated, so—let's see. Next show time is 3:15. We can make that if you want to see it. But I think it's already on videotape."
"Nothing like the big screen!" Mabel said.
"Go wash your hands and comb your hair," Mrs. Pines said. "And when you come down, bring your jackets. It's cool outside and it may rain."
Upstairs, before she went to her room, Mabel hugged Dipper. "Thanks, Brobro. You're the best brother ever, especially compared to the one in my book! Anytime you want a favor from your big sister, just ask!"
She sped into her room and didn't hear Dipper say, "Find me a friend."
But probably he hadn't meant her to hear that.
