farewell to introductions
Pacifica hasn't been one for nerves, typically. Confidence was always her calling card. But now that her unshakeable sense of superiority has been revealed to be a facade (like so much of her life), the self-doubt that underpinned it all has begun to bubble up between the remnants of her birthright. It is painful, destabilizing, to be forced to admit what a part of her has known for a long time: She is a very insecure person.
Her first day of public school threatens to illustrate that with a harsh precision.
She is standing in front of the full-length mirror that adorns the door of Mabel's closet. She'll have her own mirror, at some point. The downstairs study has been hers for a very short time period and requires further conversion before it is a proper bedroom.
She's critiquing her chosen outfit for the day, riding the fine line between fashionable and trying too hard. Will anyone even recognize her designer accessories? This is Piedmont; it's hardly as isolated as Gravity Falls, so someone probably will. She's always tried to look her best, regardless of locale. It's ingrained in her, automatic and, to her mind, necessary. She has an image to uphold. Thing is, she's not sure what that image is now. Middle-class fashionista? Teenage runaway? She's accustomed to her clothing reflecting her lifestyle, not to it being a reflection of a life she is no longer living.
Which likely brings her closer to 'trying too hard;' such a fine line to walk. In Gravity Falls she hadn't needed to worry about that, seeing as she was the one setting the trends to begin with. She had never told anyone at her old school about her multiple wins in the Gravity Falls youth pageant, both because a Northwest winning something there was a forgone conclusion and because none of her former classmates ever heard of the place. She may as well brag about winning a potato contest in Iowa or something if she's going to brag about being Miss Gravity Falls.
She needs to know what's in at Dipper and Mabel's school. Unfortunately, she knows she can't rely on either of them to tell her. Dipper doesn't know or care (which is baffling) and Mabel's taste in fashion is something Pacifica has only recently been able to term 'eccentric,' seeing as they are now friends. There's going to be no help from either of them.
So, the question remains: is her Helgeson blouse too much? The answer hinges on how many students are capable of recognizing a five-hundred-dollar blouse from London. The right students, presumably. Between the blouse and the Parisian skirt, she should catch the favorable attentions of any popular kids in the know.
But the more important question, she is discovering, is whether she wants that. And that is much more difficult to answer.
She has no illusions as to which social tier Dipper moves in. Mabel is more difficult to pin down; given her level of outgoing charm and self-confidence, it's doubtful she can be considered unpopular, or that anyone targets her. At least, not to her face. Mabel is socially fearless, effortlessly genuine, a free spirit capable of being her own unique self even within the stifling confines of expectations and school structures. Pacifica knows exactly the kind of people who will hate her for that. Pacifica was one of them, not so long ago. She's well past the aversion—the envy comes and goes.
The twins are her only supports. They will be her introduction to her new life, and she will become acquainted with their circles. Is she brave enough to untether herself, to find her place at the top (where she belongs, a small part of herself still insists)? Can she navigate her new environment on her own?
Hah. Trick question. It's really the other way around: Is she brave enough to leave fake smiles, fake friends, and price-tag superiority behind to try something more genuine?
What does she really want? Who is she now? Who's staring back at her in the reflective glass? Does she like this new person?
She's not sure. She only knows she doesn't like who used to be looking at her in the mirror. So, in that sense, any change is progress. And she wants her new friends to like her as much as she is finding she likes them.
She is startled from her reverie when she realizes Mabel is standing just behind her, to the side.
"Yep, it's still you," Mabel says, grinning into the mirror.
"Ugh. I don't know," Pacifica grumbles, turning away.
"You. Look. Fabulous! Work it, sister!" Mabel enthuses. "Oh my gosh, Pooja is going to love that skirt!"
Pacifica looks thoughtfully down at her skirt. Mabel clearly has expectations for Pacifica's integration into her circle of friends. "Mabel, you hated me, like, a few months ago. Your friends aren't going to like me." She makes the prediction with the appropriate note of apathy, but internally she finds the thought surprisingly disappointing.
Then she just about jumps out of her skin at the sudden blast of an air horn.
"FRIENDSHIP REALITY CHECK!" Mabel bellows. She leaps down from the swivel chair she somehow managed to stand on without falling and discards the air horn onto her bed (Pacifica can hear Mrs. Pines shouting something downstairs). "Firstly, I never hated you," Mabel declares, raising one finger. "Maybe sometimes I thought you were being a big buttwad, but never hate! Secondly, my friends are way too cool to not like someone who can fight Boss-Lobsters. And thirdly, we've been friends for like six months! Didn't you learn to count in fancy school?!"
Pacifica suspects Mabel's definition of 'friend' is much looser than her own. Then again, Pacifica never had a real friend before last summer, so what does she know?
She opens her mouth to reply and is startled again by a pounding at the door. "Mabel, I told you not to use that thing in the house!" Mrs. Pines says. "Is Pacifica in there?"
"Sorry, and yes," Mabel calls back.
"You're going to miss the bus, so both of you move it."
Pacifica turns to gather up her school supplies but is stopped by Mabel's hands suddenly falling onto her shoulders.
"Pacifica, I know you're worried 'cause it's your first day at regular school, but just remember: You're the coolest, you look great all the time, and Mabel is your BFF for infinity plus one!"
Pacifica rolls her eyes but has to smile at that. "You have gum in your braces," she says.
"I'm saving it for later!"
Dipper leans into the doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey, the bus is already at the end of the street."
"Remember!" Mabel implores Pacifica as they race out of the room.
Mabel, energy as boundless as usual, surges ahead. Dipper and Pacifica walk quickly behind her, out the door and down the sidewalk as the distant sound of the bus echoes out from the other end of the street.
"Remember what?" Dipper asks Pacifica as they hurry along.
"That you're a huge dork," Pacifica snipes at him for no other reason than there's something tight in her chest that's only getting tighter with every step.
Dipper leans away, looking at her askance. "Geez, what did I do?"
Pacifica sighs, instantly regretful. "Nothing. I don't know about this."
"Come on, you'll do fine. Who's going to mess with Pacifica Northwest?" he asks rhetorically, giving her a shy smile.
He's messing with her in all sorts of ways, even if he doesn't know it.
Boarding the bus is almost surreal. It's a scene out of a movie, literally, because she's only seen the inside of school buses on TV and in movies. It's crowded and loud and smells intensely of diesel and rubber. Hardly anyone gives her a second glance. They all seem too intent on their half-done homework, gossip, trading cards, phones, or window naps to look at who's coming on board. Mabel waves to someone and moves a few seats back. Dipper slides into the only empty seat Pacifica sees, the one behind the driver, and she immediately sits next to him, relieved to not be separated.
He gives her a strange look as the bus lurches into gear. "The cool kids sit in the back," he tells her.
"So?" she says.
For whatever reason, that makes him relax.
The ride is hot and feels like an eternity. Pacifica asks Dipper about the school, just basic things like the name of the school team and what's on offer in the cafeteria. He also knows some stuff that she hadn't needed to consider at her old school, like which water fountains are actually cold and where the good chairs are in the library.
"Of course you would worry about library chairs," she teases him.
"Hey, you had a library inside your old house," he fires back.
"Yeah, but I didn't go there," she lies, having spent many an hour reading, not that he needs to know that. Besides, she always read in her room.
She doesn't start feeling really overwhelmed until the bus pulls up in front of the school. She knows her schedule only coincides with Dipper or Mabel's for portions of the day. She files out of the bus and slowly moves with the crowd towards the double doors. It's ten minutes to the first bell and the students mill about, talking, laughing, exchanging affections with their significant other. Pacifica moves to the side and stands stiffly in the space between two rows of lockers. Why had she ever considered that she would even want to be queen of this school? She's just a new kid. She already wants to go home.
Dipper pushes through the crowd with Mabel close behind him. When they move in front of her, Pacifica feels their presence as one would a shield. She's safe, for the moment.
"I think Jess is waving to me," Mabel says, standing on her toes. "Are you going to be okay? You know where your first class is?"
"I think so," Pacifica says.
"I'll walk her through it. You'd better go if you're going to get to the annex on time," Dipper advises Mabel. Pacifica vaguely recalls that Mabel's first class is in a newer building, clear on the other side of the school.
Mabel quickly clasps Pacifica's hand. "Good luck! You'll do great!" she says. She slips into the flow of students and quickly disappears.
Dipper outlines the path Pacifica needs to take. She does her best to memorize what he's telling her, but at the same time she's also trying to memorize the feeling of safety she has, with the glossy painted concrete block wall at her back and Dipper between her and the rest of the school. Why can't she just have every class with him?
"You're gonna be fine, right?" he says, looking concerned.
There are a million things she wants to say to him. "It's not what I expected," is what comes out.
"Is it really that different?" He looks over his shoulder. "I guess it is kind of crazy. You get used to it." He turns back, expression pensive. "No, you know what? We know what crazy really is. This isn't that. Which is good, since otherwise it would be… insane and on fire, I guess."
She takes in the bedlam in the hallway. All around her are boys her age. Some of them are taller than Dipper, some of them are stronger. But could any of them possibly be braver? She can't imagine these other kids defying a dream demon. None of them know what she and Dipper know. And even if that knowledge is pretty scary, it's still something they earned, and something they share. It's important. It's a part of who they are.
When she focuses on Dipper again, there's a small smile on his face. "See? It's not so bad. It's just… normal. It kind of got to me when we came back, but I had Mabel, and you have us." He puts his hand on her shoulder—another echo, another afterimage of the hidden room and the hope he gave her. "I know you're stronger than anything this school can throw at you."
It's not too late.
She doesn't think about it.
She just leans forward and presses her lips to his.
The kiss is simple, brief. She pulls back, cheeks pinked and eyes wide. He looks like he's been short-circuited.
"See you at lunch," she says, and hurries away before he has a chance to say anything.
"Dipper! Dude, who was that?" she hears someone exclaim as she winnows through the crowd. She doesn't hear him respond.
Her lips are still tingling when she walks into her first period class. She sits down and opens her book, waiting for the inevitable moment when the teacher singles her out as a new student. But she doesn't care.
She's just counting the minutes until lunch, when she'll see him again.