Nineteen more days.
Dipper woke up at 4 A.M. to Mabel yelling at him over the phone. He shot up in bed like a jack-in-the-box when Mabel screamed at him: "Dipper, he's free!"
Waddles being locked up in pet prison ended up with not a scratch on him. No prolonged illnesses were present, so Waddles went home a happy and healthy pig. Dipper decided that he could start his day a little early with a coffee, so he got the steaming hot pot out of the heater and poured it for himself while Mabel talked about how much she missed him and how much she was going to kiss him and what she was going to do with him dressing-up wise going forward. Dipper remembered the judge outfit with special fondness, considering it was one of her better creations. Some of her yarn-born children were especially terrible to look at, as if they themselves were distraught between whether they were made to do so intentionally or on accident.
While he stirred his coffee with a spoon and licked the tip clean and threw it in the messy little sink basin in their kitchen (he had to clean up after Gary way too much and Gary didn't even show up last night or this morning), Mabel over the speaker phone mentioned how nonchalant the medical veterinarians were about Waddles. "They could be a little more emotional. They seemed like their faces were made of stone."
"Well, they didn't know they were dealing with an OG like Waddles," said Dipper, smiling. "They thought he was a goner. We all knew he was the best in the biz, though."
"Damn right," said Mabel. "Hey, Mom, can we get McDonald's again? Waddles wants some nuggets."
Dipper rolled his eyes. "Mabel, don't give him nuggets; those are processed garbage."
"But I eat them! And they are delicious! He should enjoy the finer things in life like Chicken McNuggets."
"Haven't you seen the videos about how they're made?"
"Don't care, Mr. Know-It-All, you are in college and therefore your knowledge doesn't count out here in the real world."
"Bogus," said Dipper. "I'm just saying you could feed him some real chicken."
"Whatever." She failed to cover up the phone while she spoke to their mother. "Mom, please, I'mma beg Dipper for some money real quick so I can pay for it."
"Mabes, I can hear you," he said.
An eep on her end. "I knew that, dummy!" Which meant that she, in fact, did not know.
"I'll send you the money, but only for Waddles," he said.
Working at the Papa John's part-time during the weekdays paid him a little cash. For the time being, he was saving up to get a van for the both of them to share. That would be next year, though, since his boss hadn't really been giving him many hours lately. He said it was because "You lacked charisma." He was gobsmacked at the statement, like what did that even mean? People were lunatics sometimes. Straight dope-heads.
"You're not gonna get me something to eat, too, Dip-Dop, Drip-Drop?" she asked with a lilt in her tone, a mantra of mischief. He could hear it now: Get me something to eat, Dip, please, I just want a little snack, you know I like snacks, they're super sugary and sweet, and there are so many kinds, like licorice and caramel and chocolate and Skittles and Starburst and a whole bunch of them, and they're the best! C'mon, c'mon!
So, though he knew he would regret it later when he really needed the money, he relented, caving in with very little pressure.
"I gotchu, Mabes," he said, whipping out his phone to pull up his CashApp, sending her twenty dollars for both their food.
"See, Mom? That's why he's the best-est brudda there eva was!" she said to her mom. "Dipper, she's smiling! Aahh! Look, Waddles! We finally got Mom to laugh!"
It was commonly known around the house that getting Mom to smile was hard to do, because she looked so stoic all the time, like a Maui statue with a cleft lip, or maybe like the Thinker, the sculpture depicting a human man in a thinking pose. She did laugh earlier when she told him about his missing hoodies, but it was still a celebration each time nonetheless.
As he listened to Mabel talk gibberish to Waddles over the phone, Dipper sipped his coffee, then thought about how it tasted off. He never perfected the art of perfect coffee. He just threw whatever he thought was good enough for him, and it never ended up looking good. Maybe he had to start asking Mabel what she did about her coffee. And he might as well ask her now, since later, he would have to go out and meet up with that one girl Katy.
But before he could speak, the phone call shut off. He looked down at his phone with a frown. Weird. Usually Mabel would be on the phone for hours. Maybe she would call back. He would be waiting for her, then, he guessed.
So while he waited for Mabel, he decided to look through some of his textbooks, since he was going to study later. He gathered up his Math, Physics, and Criminology textbooks all around him in a ritualistic pile that shrouded him on all sides. Then he went about cracking them open like tomes which had never been touched before.
After an hour, he found that the tomes weren't distracting enough. Sleep called out to him like a devious seductress with a honey-like voice. He slunk over to his bed with lethargic movements, not even feeling the coffee he drank just a little bit ago, and laid down underneath the blankets with a lot on his mind. It was all scrambled from all the stress he had binding him.
When he woke up at 7:30 A.M., he groaned, but got to his feet and proceeded to ready up for class by putting on a blue flannel sweater, a pair of blue denim jeans, and a Paranormal Dudes graphic T-shirt Mabel bought him a whole ago that said THE GHOSTS STAND NO CHANCE. He shrugged the clothes on, looked at his mound of books, figured he would clean it up later and rummaged through his bookbag to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind. Sometimes he would leave his tag which meant he wouldn't be able to get back in, and he didn't want that to happen. Confirming that nothing was left behind, he gathered his belongings onto his back and sauntered out of the dorm, the melancholy immediately hitting him as soon as he stepped through the threshold. He had survived off of less sleep than this when he was battling through the AP Homework Wars at Piedmont High School which involved pivotal scrimmages with packets the size of his forearm in thickness, but he still didn't like walking around campus with only four hours of sleep tops.
On the way to class, Dipper couldn't help but think about Mabel. Did their mom make her get off the phone? Most likely. Why, though? He didn't have an answer, to be honest.
Later, when Dipper was done with class at 9 A.M. and walked back to his dorm, he met up with Justin at Tharsis, deciding that he would try to stuff something down his stomach even if he felt like he was bloated already. Must be nervous or something, he told himself. I don't know what's going on. Justin got a sandwich and some salad, Dipper got some pizza and a cup of ranch, and while his friend devoured his meal with a reverence like that of the Pope to the long-gone Jesus Christ, Dipper could only look at his food with a vacant stare, not looking at it directly but beyond it, to his tumultuous mental landscape.
Justin noticed this endless reverie Dipper seemed to be trapped in and snapped in his face a couple of times to get his attention and knock him out of his illusory bubble. "Earth to Dipper. Come in, Dipper."
"What?" asked Dipper in a confused tone. "Did something happen?"
"I had the same question for you."
"What does that mean?"
"You look like you're a ghost, dude. Like Casper decided to quit and you took his position. Like the Ghostbusters are zooming out of their fire station to find you so quickly they're leaving skidmarks on the ground. Like –"
"Stop, I get it," said Dipper, putting up a hand in protest.
"Well, then what?"
"It's nothing, for real," he said. "I've just been going through a little bit of stuff lately."
"Since when? Your life is easy, dude."
"BS, bro," argued Dipper. "I got work – that is not easy. Imagine working part-time for some rude-ass customers to bully you for something that you didn't even know was an issue in the first place."
"Whatever, it's deeper than that, and you know it," said Justin.
"I don't care what you think, you stupid idiot."
Justin took another bite of his sandwich and smiled. "Suck it, hoe."
At 11 A.M. Dipper finally got back to his dorm and got ready for his meeting with Katy. Though he didn't feel terribly confident about their arrangement, he knew for certain that getting some studying done with someone who might know what they're doing would be beneficial for him in the long-run. He was an intelligent guy, was known for being the top of the class, but sometimes there were some subjects which didn't come as naturally to him as others: chemistry, for example, was an awful amalgamation of formulae and notation while criminology analysis proved to be much more interesting. He appraised his appearance in the mirror, told himself that he looked presentable enough (though surely if Mabel were here, she would point out all of the imperfections and implications his outfit loudly professed), and left his dorm without looking back. He'd already had his dramatic exit earlier. No need to be redundant.
He met up with Katy at Tharsis not long after. She was sitting at one of the tables near the entrance of the mess hall, and when she saw Dipper she slammed down her laptop and got her stuff together into her backpack. When he approached, she slung the bag over her back and waved at him. "How's it going, stranger?"
"Not bad," he said.
She gave him a skeptical look that said Yeah, right. "You look like a ghost."
Dipper grimaced, remembering what Justin had told him earlier. "Didn't sleep much last night. My sister wanted me to stay up on the phone with her."
"Awh, that's sweet. Any particular reason?"
"Her pet pig Waddles got sick. She gave him peanut butter but he's allergic."
She frowned. "That's so sad. I hope he's all right."
"Mabel made sure that I stayed on the phone long enough to confirm that yes, he's perfectly fine."
"Well, where do you want to study? My room is available. My roommate Jade is out of town, so I got the whole place to myself."
Alone? In another girl's room? Last time that happened, he got chased out of the hall with only his boxers and his hat. (Don't ask.)
"Uh, sure, why not?"
When they got to her room, he was completely surprised about the vibe. It was something like out of a greenhouse. Plants were everywhere. The walls were painted green and had drawings of all sorts on them. A slew of pictures of Katy and her friends decorated the walls alongside strings of red. Her bed was covered in a green fleece. There was a TV in the middle of the room, right next to the desk, where a few books were stacked up and sat alongside comrade composition notebooks of notes and equations. She bashfully splayed out her hands in front of him and asked, "So . . . What do you think?"
"This place looks amazing," he said. "Mabel would love this. She once painted her whole side of the Shack's attic and Grunkle Stan got so mad."
Katy laughed. "I think that Jade's got style," she said. "Her interior design is through the roof." Then she gave him a look. "Is your sister in college?"
"Pfft, nah, she's staying home this year again," he said. "She doesn't think that college is for real, as she says." Dipper coughed, wanting to change the subject. He came here to study, not talk about his sister, haha. "So, what are you working on?"
"Advanced Bio," she groaned. She sat down on her bed and flopped backwards. "It's the worst. But I do love botany, me and Jade are working on our Master's for a new mutation of a once-extinct fungus, it's right over there." She pointed over to the desk, where on closer inspection, Dipper could spot a few petri dishes scattered about on the surface.
Dipper got closer and reveled at the pure science in front of him. He got excited when it came to stuff like this. People pushing the boundaries of the mediums they were given for any particular reason, some for glory, others simply for the hell of it.
"How long have you been working on this?" he asked.
"Two years now," she said. "It's been the longest relationship I've been in." She laughed in a hollow fashion, like being in an empty, silent room and hearing the echo tenfold. "I'm joking. I'm single."
"Same," he said.
She gaped. "No way," she said.
"Way."
"You can't be," she said.
"And why's that?"
"You're a great guy!"
"You don't even know me!"
"Hey, I know a stud when I see one."
"Now you sound like Mabel."
"Except she's probably teasing you when she says it. I mean it. Not to sound like a stalker, but I've been seeing you walk around this campus a while and I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you."
Dipper kind of froze up, because what on Earth did that mean?
"Uh, thanks, I guess?"
"You want to study?"
Finally, something simple. "Please!"
Katy didn't say anything weird like that again for the remainder of their study session, mostly staying to themselves and working on their separate assignments. During this time, they asked each other questions about their lives, like how many siblings you have, how's your mom and dad, what's it like back at home, where do you go for vacation, stuff like that. Dipper wasn't as eager to answer the last question ("Earth to Dipper"), so he countered with his own "weird" question.
"What has your dating life looked like?"
She made a face, tugging back the sides of her mouth. "Yeesh. Uh, I had a boyfriend that smelled awful. Luke. What a guy. He thought he was slick."
She rattled off a few other names, each one with their own separate backstory. She focused on one, though.
"Eli, oh my God, he was the worst."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, he literally stalked me for like weeks, all because I didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore."
"Yeesh," said Dipper.
Eventually they got tired of studying, and Katy asked him, "What kind of stuff do you like to watch?"
"You might think it's silly," he said, looking at her with a smile.
"Noo, I won't, I pinky-promise," she said. She held out her pinky in demonstration.
He looked at it with curious eyes, and linked his with hers. "Fine. It's Ducktective."
Without pause, she began to belt out laughter like a hyena, huge cackles that shook his nerves. His cheeks flamed like a sun in supernova.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!"
"I'm sorry, it just happened!" She wiped a tear from her face. "Ducktective? Isn't that a children's cartoon?"
"Hey, Ducktective is a distinguished professional, so don't you dare talk bad about him."
She held up her hands in mock defense. "My bad," she said.
"Me and my sister watch it like crazy," Dipper said, looking down at his nails, suddenly interested in them instead of the girl beside him.
"What was her name?"
"Mabel," he said.
"You guys are close?"
"Very. Though she is much more close to Waddles."
"The pig," said Katy, nodding.
"We're twins," he said. "She's like my other half."
In more ways than one.
"You miss her?"
"Yeah, of course I do," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back on the bed. "She's the best. She'll meet a stranger and by the end of their first conversation, she'll be their best friend for a million years. Mabel says she can live that long, she says that 'happiness will keep me alive forever' and I just say 'okay,' but sometimes, I believe it."
"That's so wacky," Katy said. "Your sister sounds like a total goofball."
"She's one of the goofiest goofballs known to man," said Dipper.