maybe this place is the same and we're just changing

High school isn't quite the musical experience television promised, but that doesn't mean it's all bad.

Mabel still has all her friends and plenty of extracurricular activities to keep her occupied. To some degree, she's just waiting. She's waiting for school to end so she can go back to the valley, so she can resume the path for her life she's found there. This is just a detour. But that doesn't mean it can't be a pleasant one, or that there's nothing worthwhile in Piedmont. If nothing else, it's great to be back home with Mom and Dad again—which makes her feel guilty, to have spent a summer away to just want to go back; like they've become vestigial, something she likes but doesn't need and that isn't true. It's not.

It seems like someday these halves of her life must combine, though she doesn't know when (or how).

In the meantime, she's determined to enjoy high school as much as it can be enjoyed. She's a real teen now! As she stands and looks at herself in her full-length mirror, it's as if she can see all the changes superimposed over her old self-image, like the second summer molded her into a new version of herself. She puts her hands on her hips, and she's surprised by the way they fill her palms, surprised by the new inches of her limbs and the new curves that swell into the places that only months ago held to the level planes of childhood. No, she doesn't have the same degree of curvature as Pacifica, nor does she possess the lean slenderness of Wendy; she is somewhere in between, and she likes that, she likes her new body as it slowly acquires a feminine shape. She's always been cute, she knows that, but she thinks she might be about to become pretty, in the way that Pacifica and Wendy are pretty, and she hopes that's true.

She grins at herself in the mirror, then grimaces. Well, once she loses the braces, anyway. They are kind of undercutting the whole 'becoming a woman' thing. At least Brendan doesn't seem to mind. She straightens the hem of her sweater, featuring a rock and a ruler giving each other thumbs ups ('You rock!' 'You rule!'). It's a newly knitted one to go along with all her other new clothes; Dipper's not the only one outgrowing things.

Mom raps on her door. "You got five minutes if you want time to eat," she warns.

She grabs her overstuffed backpack and hurries downstairs, arriving in time to heat up a toaster pastry. Dipper is already at the table, brow furrowed as he goes over some notes. Mabel stuffs half the pastry into her mouth and pulls out her phone for her daily morning texts. The first is to Pacifica:

Mabel: Good morning bestie!

This may or may not elicit a timely response from the other girl, but Mabel just wants to make sure she reaches out every single day until they can all be reunited. Pacifica isn't going to suffer alone this year. Her second text is another school day selfie for Brendan (after she carefully plies her braces with her tongue to make sure there aren't any pastry chunks stuck in her smile).

Dipper stands up from the table, stuffing his notes into his backpack. "Ready?"

"Ready!" she replies.

It's a nice day out, in the mid-sixties with a light breeze and a cloudless sky. Although it's October, the leaves haven't really started to change yet. This serves to remind her of Summerween, and makes her wish she could spend both versions of the spooky holiday in Gravity Falls. She bets that town does Halloween right.

They make it to the bus stop with a couple minutes to spare. When the bus pulls up, Mabel climbs aboard and heads for the middle to sit with Pooja and Haley; she sits with her friends on the way to school, and usually sits with Dipper on the way back. Ever reliable, Haley begins filling Mabel in on the freshest gossip, including a rundown of the latest real-life drama the theater kids are partaking in, and the tantalizing tidbit that Kevin Lautner split his pants at wrestling practice and you could totally see his underwear (Mabel's not sure she believes that one; aren't wrestling pants hard to tear? Isn't that the point?). Mabel wishes she could reciprocate with some exclusive hot goss from Gravity Falls, but the most recent info she has says that Mayor Tyler might be dating a mothman, and she can't talk about that.

That's how it always goes. Mabel is sitting on a treasure trove of the craziest gossip anyone could ever share, and it's all secret. At least Soos and Wendy keep her updated. It's nice to stay in the know.

The first half of school is pretty normal. She does get a math quiz back and winces when she sees the 'C+' scrawled at the top. She forgot to study, and she feels bad about it because she knows Grunkle Ford would expect better of her. Dipper may be the smarty twin, but that doesn't mean she can slack off. She doesn't know what her role in the future of Weirdness will be yet, but she does know that she'll be there and be a part of it, so she needs to do well in school. She resolves to do better on the next one.

You are capable of great things, Ford wrote in that old letter. She still holds the words close.

Lunch is when things get a little weird, though not with the capital W she would prefer. She's picking at her sandwich, wishing she had snuck an extra snack cake into her backpack because that sounds really good right now, when she notices an intense amount of whispering going on around her. Tammy, Louisa, and Phoebe are in the middle of some kind of argument, with contributions from some of the other nearby girls. Finally, Louisa tosses up her hands and turns toward Mabel.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ask because I'm surrounded by cowards," she says, shooting the other girls a look. "Mabel, what's the deal with your brother?"

Mabel blanches and swallows a mouthful of baloney. The deal with Dipper? Oh, no, did someone see his journal? How? It can't be, he doesn't bring his journal to school. Did he do something weird as part of an investigation? Gosh, why didn't he tell her?! Okay, okay, she can fix this.

Play it cool…

"Nothing!" Mabel squeaks. She sets her sandwich on the table and shrugs like the question is no big deal. "What do you mean? He's the same ol' Dipper."

"Uh, no, he isn't," Louisa counters. "You guys are gone all summer again and when you come back your brother is, like, a foot taller, and in great shape, and all tan…"

"He's hot," Tammy says bluntly.

"Yeah, but, like, nerdy hot," Louisa confirms. "Like a hot scientist or something."

Phoebe looks confused. "A hot scientist?"

Louisa nods. "Yeah, you know, like in the movie, like the guy that gets all huge and green."

"Ohhhh, okay."

Mabel's mouth flaps up and down like a fish's. "Uh…" she says, trying to come to terms with all of this, "well, Dipper's always been handsome!"

"You have to say that," Louisa says, rolling her eyes.

"He was sort of cute before…" Phoebe interjects.

Louisa waves her hand impatiently. "Sure, he was always cute. But not like this."

"Yeah, there's a gap between cute and hot, and he jumped right over it," Tammy opines.

Mabel finds herself torn between supporting any positive perception of Dipper and really not wanting to be a part of this conversation. "Okay, yes, my brother is totally good looking and it's nice of you to notice, but he's also totally taken."

"Still?" Louisa frowns. "With what's her name, Pacifica? Didn't she move?"

"Yeah, but they're making it work long distance," Mabel says.

"I absolutely did not get why she was with him before. No offense!" Louisa quickly adds. "I guess she was ahead of the curve."

"Where is it you go? Oregon? You met Brendan there, too, right?" Tammy says, tapping her chin contemplatively. "Maybe we should all go next year, if that's where all the hot dates are…"

That and a whole lot of other stuff these girls are not ready for. "Portland is really nice," Mabel settles on saying. "We went to the zoo and saw the seals!"

This serves to redirect the conversation to less awkward ground, and Mabel spends the rest of lunch relating her slightly edited tales of Portland.

On her way to her next class, she checks her phone and sees she has a reply from Pacifica:

Pacifica: I hate my school

Uh-oh. Sounds like Pacifica is having an even worse day than usual. Mabel texts back a quick commiseration and hopes that the other girl is texting Dipper about it, as that usually makes her feel better. Mabel decides that Pacifica does not need to hear about all the other girls who suddenly decided Dipper is hot now, especially since they're here, and Pacifica isn't.

On the bus ride home, Mabel slides into the seat next to Dipper, setting her backpack on the floor as the vehicle lurches into motion. He's typing on his phone, probably texting Pacifica, and Mabel takes the opportunity to assess him, trying to see him the way her friends do. This is impossible, of course—she only ever sees her brother. But he is taller, and his arms are tanned by months in the valley sun, and though he isn't bulky in any sense, she can see a new muscularity about him; nothing too overt, but there's a solidness that wasn't there before, one which matches his broadening shoulders.

Huh. It's funny how easy these things were to miss when she was there for every incremental stage.

He notices her scrutiny. "What?" he says, lowering his phone.

"Just grabbing a seat next to Mr. Popular over here," she tells him.

He looks at her askance. "What are you talking about?"

She leans towards him gleefully. "My friends think you're hot."

He doesn't believe her. "Yeah, okay, Mabel," he says, rolling his eyes and returning to his phone.

If it were anyone else, she might keep it to herself. But Dip could use a little confidence boost. "I'm serious! They were asking me how you got all tall and hotified over the summer!"

Dipper blinks. "They did?"

She tells him everything. Well, almost everything; she glosses over the part where Louisa thought Pacifica was dating below her league.

Dipper doesn't seem to know how to take any of it. "Wow. That's… hmm. You told them I'm still dating Pacifica, right?"

"Sure did. I also didn't tell her about it, you know, 'cause…"

"No, yeah, good call." Dipper laughs and shakes his head. "Okay. Wow! I guess all that hiking around is paying off. You know, I always thought my first date would be a pity date with one of your friends. No offense to them, but I'm really glad it wasn't."

"Yeah, me too," Mabel agrees. "Besides, those girls are all great, but none of them are right for you like Pacifica is."

"True," Dipper says. Regardless, he still looks pleased by Mabel's revelation, and she's glad.

The rest of the week passes in a blur of classes, homework, and extracurriculars. The days are never exactly the same, but they aren't all that different, either. Another week goes by. She gets an A on a math quiz; she's getting better at hitting those targets in archery. Summer feels no closer.

Then, it's Halloween.

It's getting close to evening. Already, she can hear the shouts of children on the sidewalk outside. She should be trying to put together some last-minute idea, dragooning Dipper into joining her. A few ideas flit through her mind. If she hurries, she could throw something together inside a couple hours, and have enough time to at least hit a street or two.

Instead, she goes across the hall to Dipper's room.

He's sitting on one of the beanbags in front of his TV. It looks like he's been expecting her.

She sits next to him. "Anything good on?"

"Probably, but that's not what I'm looking for." He fiddles with the remote. "Are you… going out?"

Mabel stares at the television. On the screen, a man is driving down a dark street. He looks lost.

"Pacifica would say we're too old for trick or treating," she says.

For a long moment, Dipper doesn't reply. The man on TV pulls up in front of an empty house. He tries the front door, but it's locked.

"Want to watch this bad movie and pretend it's Gravity Falls Public Access?" Dipper asks.

"Okay," Mabel says.

And it occurs to her—in a way, she's certain, it would not have before Weirdmaggeddon— that she will not remember this moment, when she made the transition from getting candy to handing it out, passing that sweet torch to the younger kids. She'll forget this. She's sure of this in the same way she is sure that if she went downstairs now and asked Dad, 'when was the last time you went outside to play with your friends,' he would not be able to tell her. Because there was a day when he went out to play, and it was the last day, but he didn't know it, and that crossing over is buried beneath the years.

(because he is his memories, and she is hers, and forgetting is like shedding pieces of yourself, you can't even help it, you forget the forgetting, and sometimes you will do things and not know why because the reasons are gone; like you're floating, like the foundation is missing beneath your feet.)

She can't think about stuff like this for very long.

The movie is terrible. Maybe not quite as terrible as the no-budget fare on GFPA, but bad enough to suffice. When the doorbell rings, Mabel goes downstairs to help hand out the candy. Mom gives her a knowing look but doesn't say anything about it. And, hey, it's still fun: Giving can be just as rewarding as receiving.

Still. It's not the same.

But did she really expect things to be the same forever?