Chapter Text
Dipper and Mabel’s mother drove them to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was a cool day in Piedmont, the sky a cloudless, light hue of blue. Dipper was wearing his typical outfit — a red, plaid flannel with a pair of blue jeans and matched with a pair of grey sneakers. Mabel wore one of her thousands of hand-knit sweaters, matched with a mini-skirt. It was their way of a farewell gesture.
Located in the Pacific Northwest of the United States was a small town named Gravity Falls, Oregon. Dipper and Mabel had spent several summers here with their Great Uncle Stan, starting at the age of twelve. The town was relatively unremarkable. They had a single restaurant, Greasy’s Diner, run by a local woman named Susan. Stan ran a tourist trapped named the Mystery Shack, and every few cars one could see a bright yellow bumper sticker mentioning it. It was this small, boring town that the twins’ parents had escaped from when they were a few months old. While the twins had come to enjoy their summers, once they had turned fourteen, it had been put to an end; the past three summers, Great Uncle Stan had come to visit them in California for two weeks instead.
And it was now Gravity Falls that the twins had exiled themselves to — an action that didn’t quite horror them, but did not please them either. Gravity Falls was not the big city that they had become accustomed to; it was not Piedmont.
They loved Piedmont. They loved the sun and the city life — the vigorous, sprawling city.
“Kids,” their mom said to them — the last of several times — before they approached the boarding plane. “You don’t have to do this.”
Mrs. Pines look similar to the twins — especially Mabel — but had short hair and laugh lines. Dipper felt a spasm of panic as he looked into her wide, childlike eyes. How could he leave their mother — their erratic, harebrained mother — to fend for herself? Of course, she still had their father, so the bills would be paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in the car, and someone to call if she needed one, but still…
“We want to go,” Mabel said to her. Dipper had always been a bad liar, something of which Mabel excelled at. He may have been able to sound convincing if he’d spoken something enough times, but didn’t choose to take that chance.
“Tell Stan I said hi.”
“We will.”
“See you soon, kids,” she insisted, ruffling the hair on their heads. “You can come home whenever you want — I’ll come right back as soon as you need me.”
Dipper could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.
“Don’t worry about us,” Dipper urged. “It’ll be great. We’ll be great. We love you, Mom.”
Mrs. Pines pulled them into a tight group hug, and then they got on the plane, and she was gone.
It was a short flight from Piedmont to Portland, and another short car-ride back down to Gravity Falls. Flying didn’t bother them, but the time in the car with their Great Uncle Stan worried them. He had severe cataracts that affected his vision, and in turn, his driving.
Stan had been fairly nice about the situation. He seemed genuinely pleased that the twins were coming to stay with him for the first time with a sense of permanence. He’d already gotten the twins registered for high school and planned on helping them find a car — to share.
It was incredibly awkward with Stan. Neither him nor Dipper would be called verbose, though Mabel could find something to fill the silence. Dipper wasn’t sure what there was to say, regardless. Stan was more than a little confused by their decision, as he was greatly aware of the twin’s feelings on the town.
When landing in Portland, Oregon, it was raining. Dipper didn’t find it as a sign or a bad omen — it was simply unavoidable in the Pacific Northwest. They had already said goodbye to a reasonable amount of sun.
Stan was already waiting for the twins with his old, beat-up car. One of the reasons the twins wanted their own car was the fact that they simply did not trust Stan behind the wheel, especially with them in it. Nothing slows down traffic like a man who can’t drive in a straight line.
Stan gave each of the twins an awkward, one-armed hug once they’d exited the plane.
“It’s good to see you, kids,” he said, smiling as he ruffled the hair on their heads. They didn’t mind, considering their mother had already tussled it around. “You two haven’t changed much. How’s your mother?”
“Mom’s fine. It’s good to see you too, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel answered. They technically weren’t allowed to call him Stan to his face, but occasionally it slipped and they did anyways.
Dipper only had a few bags, not having much to his name besides his books and some clothes. Mabel, however, had tried to bring as many of her sweaters as possible.
Mrs. Pines had gotten the twins some winter clothes — mostly for Dipper — but it was still scarce. All of the bags were able to fit into the trunk of Stan’s car.
“I found a good car for you kids. Really cheap,” Stan announced once they’d strapped in.
“What kind of car?” Dipper asked, suspicious of the way he had said “good car for you kids” as opposed to just “good car.”
“It’s a truck, actually, a Chevy.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Do you remember Bud Gleeful from Lake Gravity Falls?” Lake Gravity Falls was a decent-sized lake where locals went to go fishing each season.
“No.”
“He used to go fishing with us,” Stan prompted.
That would explain why the twins didn’t remember him. They tried their best to block unnecessary things from their memory, moreso Dipper than Mabel.
“He’s in a wheelchair now,” Stan continued when neither of them responded, “so he can’t drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap. Or one of his other used cars from the Discount Auto Mart.”
“What year is it?” Mabel asked, noticing Stan’s change in expression. It was the question he hoped the kids didn’t ask.
“Well, Bud’s done a lot of work on the engine — it’s only a few years old, really.”
Dipper wasn’t ready to give up so easily. “When did he buy it?”
“1984, I think.”
“Did he buy it new?” Dipper questioned. Stan sighed, shaking his head.
“Well, no. I think it was new in the sixties… Fifties, earliest,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, other still on the steering wheel.
“Stan, we don’t know anything about cars,” Dipper said, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. “We couldn’t fix it if something went wrong, we can’t afford a mechanic…”
“Really, Dipper, the thing runs great. They don’t build them like that anymore,” Stan insisted. “I mean, look at this ol’ gal. She’s from the 70s and still running just fine.”
Dipper pondered the idea, acknowledging it at least had its possibilities. Mabel was excited to give the car a nickname.
“How cheap is cheap?” It was the part they couldn’t compromise on, considering the two only had so much money to their name.
“Well, kids, I kind of already bought it for you. As a moving gift.” Stan eyed the twins from the rearview mirror, a hopeful expression lacing his features.
Free?
“Did you… buy it? Actually buy it? Or steal it?” Mabel asked, raising her eyebrow. Stan chuckled.
“Does it matter?” he asked, moving his attention back to the road. “I want you kids to be happy here.”
Stan wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions, something that Dipper seemed to almost inherit from him. Mabel had no issues of the sort and had a beaming smile across her face.
“That’s really nice, Grunkle Stan! Thanks!” she grinned.
“You’re welcome,” Stan mumbled, embarrassed by the thanks. He wasn’t used to doing nice gestures, especially ones that involved money, but he would do anything for his family.
A few more comments were exchanged about the weather, which was wet, and that was it for conversation. Dipper stared out the window in silence, hoping the drive would be over sooner than later.
Gravity Falls was a beautiful place; Dipper couldn’t deny that. Everything was green, especially the forests filled with pine trees, the moss at the base of their trunks, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air felt green. It was almost too green.
Eventually, they arrived at the Mystery Shack. It was exactly the same as the twins remembered it — slightly rotted, the sign missing an ’s.’ No matter how many times it had been repaired, it never stayed. Parked on the side of the Shack was a faded red truck with big, rounded fenders. The twins were eager to have a functional vehicle. Dipper was still unsure it would run but he could see himself driving it.
“Once again, thanks, Stan,” Dipper said. Tomorrow would be less dreadful for him now, as he wouldn’t be faced with the choice of walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a reckless ride from Stan.
“Glad you like it,” Stan said gruffly, embarrassed once more.
With each of them grabbing a handful of bags, it only took one trip to get all the twins’ things upstairs. Mabel was staying in the attic that they had once shared as kids, and Dipper got the secondary bedroom that faced out over the front yard.
The wooden floor, wooden panel walls, peaked ceiling, and triangular stained glass windows were part of their childhood. The only changes that Stan had ever made was moving out Dipper’s bed and dresser into the bedroom he could now call his own. The desk in his room held a secondhand computer. It was a stipulation from both Dipper and his mother — she wanted to stay in touch easily, while he wanted something he could easily write and research on. In Mabel’s room was a rocking chair that had been passed down for generations; it had previously belonged to Mr and Mrs Pines.
There was only one small bathroom on the upstairs, which the twins would have to share. Dipper tried not to dwell too much on that fact, considering his sister could take a very long time.
One of the best things about Stan was that he didn’t hover. He left the twins alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that wouldn’t have been possible with their mother.
Dipper was glad to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; it was a relief to stare wonderlessly out the window at the rain and sigh. Dipper wasn’t in much of a mood to feel anything strong. He felt anxious about school the next coming day, but decided he’d worry about that later.
Gravity Falls High School had a very small total of a little over three hundred and fifty students. Back in Piedmont, the twins’ junior class was more than seven hundred people alone. All of the kids in Gravity Falls had grown up together and knew each other; Dipper and Mabel would be the odd ones out.
I would be the new kid from a big city. A freak. Dipper thought. Maybe if I looked like someone from California, that could work to my advantage.
Dipper had never really fit in anywhere — he had always seen himself as needing to be more tan, more sporty, maybe a surfer with blonde hair, maybe a haircut where he wouldn’t have to hide the birthmark on his forehead. All the things that go with living in California, the surfing capital of the country.
Instead, he was pale-skinned, without the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, and did have a large birthmark across his forehead in the shape of the constellation, Big Dipper. He had always been a skinny, lanky kid, but obviously not an athlete. He was uncoordinated and unable to play any sports without harming himself — or anyone who stood too close — or humiliating himself.
Dipper finished unpacking his shirts, jeans, underwear, and socks into the old dresser — made from pine wood — and took his bag of bathroom items to the bathroom.
He studied his face in the mirror, brushing his fingers through his tangled and damp hair. It could’ve been the light, but Dipper felt like he already looked sullen and unhealthy. His skin was very clear of blemishes but it held no lively color.
You’re lying to yourself, Dipper told himself. You won’t fit in here. You didn’t fit in at a school with other three thousand people; how are you going to find a niche here?
He didn’t relate well to people the same age as him — not even necessarily with Mabel. He pondered if the truth was that he just couldn’t relate well to people in the first place. Even his own mother, who he was quite close to, wasn’t ever in harmony with him. Dipper wondered if he was seeing things through his eyes that the rest of the world saw through their own. Maybe there was a glitch in his brain. But it didn’t really matter in the end. Tomorrow was just the beginning.
Dipper didn’t sleep well that night, even after his slight panic attack. The constant pitter-patter of the rain and whooshing of wind across the rickety roof refused to quiet down enough for Dipper to ignore. He pulled his blanket over his head and later added the pillow, too. But he couldn’t fall asleep until way after midnight, when he eventually gave in to exhaustion.
Thick fog was the only thing visible to him outside his window in the morning and he could feel his anxiety in the depths of his stomach, balling in his throat. The sky wasn’t often seen and Dipper wondered if he’d just walked into a cage.
Breakfast with Stan was a quiet event. Even Mabel didn’t seem to have too much to say. He wished the twins a good day and good luck with school. Dipper thanked him, but felt his hope was wasted. Good luck wasn’t really ever on his side. Stan left the table first, walking to the gift shop end of the house, ready to open. It felt like the Shack was his wife and family. After he left, Mabel went to the front of the house to finish getting ready while Dipper stayed sat in the old chair at the old table. He examined the kitchen, studying its small space, with its off-white pine tree wallpaper, the dark wood cabinets, and the beige fridge that had some sticky notes and a strange stain on the door. Dipper never questioned what it was, mostly because he didn’t actually want to know. Nothing had changed.
Eighteen years ago, the twins’ Grandpa had stained the cabinets to their current dark color, in an attempt to modernize the house. It didn’t work as he intended.
Over the small aquarium tank in the living room was a row of pictures. There was a picture of the twins from their first summer in Gravity Falls, then a picture of the twins with their mother in the hospital after they were born, followed by the twins’ school pictures from kindergarten to junior year. Dipper found them embarrassing to look at and wondered if he could convince Stan to put them somewhere else. At least while he was here.
Dipper didn’t want to be early to school, but couldn’t stay in the Shack anymore. Mabel seemed to be on the same page — at least, on leaving. He shrugged on a navy jacket and followed his sister out into the rain.
It was only drizzling, not enough to soak the two through their clothes immediately. Dipper was unsettled by the sloshing from their boots as they walked across the driveway, used to the crunching sound of gravel under his sneakers. To get out of the rain, Dipper unlocked the truck and slid into the driver’s seat, Mabel in the passenger. They’d spoken about it earlier that morning: Mabel hated driving, so Dipper would be the one who got to use the truck more often. They just had to let each other know if they’d be taking it without the other coming along.
Inside the truck was dry. Either Bud or Stan had cleaned it up before the two had gotten their hands on it, but the upholstered seats still had the scent of tobacco laced within.
The engine came to life quickly as Dipper turned the key in the ignition, loudly roaring to life before idling. He knew a truck this old would likely be noisy, but he wasn’t expecting it to be quite like that. Mabel reached over, turning the radio on, which to their surprise still worked.
Finding the school wasn’t difficult — considering it was the only high school in town — though Dipper hadn’t been there before. It was like most other things in town, just off the main road. It was not obvious that it was a school; it was a large red-bricked building that looked like every other building in town. Had it not been for the sign declaring it Gravity Falls High School, Dipper wouldn’t have stopped. There were so many pine trees and ferns surrounding the buildings, it was hard to recognize the size at first. He wondered where the small-town feel was supposed to be.
He pulled into the lot, parking in the first space he saw near the first building, and noticed a sign in front of the door that read “front office.” There weren’t any other cars in the lot and he figured it was off limits to students, but decided he could get directions from someone inside. He motioned for Mabel to stay inside the truck, stepping out and walking down the stone path. He took in a deep breath before opening the door.
The building was brightly lit with fluorescents, and warmer than he hoped. It was small. There was a small area with folding chairs set up in a straight line against the wall, the ground covered in neon orange carpet, several documents and awards covering the walls. There were several indoor plants lining the corners of the room, and was cut in half by a long counter that was cluttered with baskets and trays of papers and flyers. There were three desks behind the counter, though the only person sitting there was a woman with red hair and glasses. She looked up at Dipper.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Mason Pines. My sister, Mabel, is outside,” he answered. Awareness filled her eyes, clearly expecting the two newcomers. Everyone knew everyone in this town, including those who were new. Dipper realized he was a topic of gossip and hated the idea of the excessive attention.
“Ah, yes,” she said, digging through a stacked pile of papers on her desk. She found the ones she had been looking for. “I have your schedules here, and two maps of the school.”
She went through their classes, highlighting different buildings and pathways and classrooms on each of their respective maps, and finally gave Dipper a slip for each teacher to sign. She gave him a small smile and wished him a nice day, hoping that he’d enjoy his time in Gravity Falls. Dipper returned the smile, though it faltered quickly as he exited the building.
Dipper entered the truck, handing his sister her papers and parroting what the red-haired woman had told him. He noticed that other students were starting to arrive. He started the truck up again and followed the line of traffic.
“I’m glad there’s no flashy cars here,” he said to Mabel, who nodded in agreement. Back in Piedmont, they had lived in one of the lesser neighborhoods that were included in their district. It was a common thing for them to see newer, flashier cars — such as a Mercedes or a Porsche — in the student lot. The only nice car here was a shiny, blue Volvo, and it stuck out like a sore thumb. Dipper pulled into an empty spot and cut off the engine quickly, hoping to draw the least amount of attention to them as possible.
Mabel hopped out of the truck eagerly, babbling nonsense about how she was going to talk to every single person she met that day. Dipper stayed behind, studying the highlighted map in the truck, hoping to memorize it so he wouldn’t have to stare at it the entire day. I can do this, he lied to himself.
He folded the map and stuffed it in his front pocket, slung the strap to his backpack over his shoulder, and took a deep breath. No one is going to bite me.
Dipper exhaled and stepped out of the truck.
He kept his face pulled back into his navy hood as he walked along the sidewalk, which was already starting to crowd with fellow students. He was relieved that his plain navy jacket didn’t stand out.
Arriving at the cafeteria, he spotted the third building easily. There was a large black “3” hung on the side of the red bricks on the east corner. Dipper’s breathing was gradually escalating to the point of hyperventilation as he approached the door, his anxiety rising quickly. He tried to hold his breath as he opened the door and followed two students with translucent raincoats through.
The classroom he arrived at was small. The two students in front of him paused to hang their raincoats on a row of hooks, but Dipper opted to keep his hoodie on. It was a comfort item for him.
The two students in front of him were a pair of girls, one who had bleach-blonde hair and the other with light brown hair, both very pale.
Slipping his hand into his pocket to grab the paper, he walked over towards the desk and handed it to the teacher — a tall man with black hair whose desk identified him as Mr. Strange. He glanced oddly at Dipper, who in turn flushed red. There was an empty desk towards the back of the room that Mr. Strange gestured towards, and Dipper quickly took the hint, not wanting to have to introduce himself to the class. It was more difficult for the fellow students to stare at him from the back, but somehow, they managed to do so anyways.
Dipper’s eyes flickered down to the reading list that Mr. Strange had handed him; it was basic. He’d already read everything on the list, which he found comforting yet boring. He wondered if he could convince his mother to send him his old essays but was concerned about if that was considered cheating or not. While the teacher lectured, Dipper went back and forth in his head.
When the bell rang, a pale boy with acne and blonde hair approached Dipper, leaning across the aisle.
“You’re Mason Pines, aren’t you?” he accused. Dipper found he looked like someone that belonged to the chess club; someone who was very eager to help.
“Dipper,” he corrected. All of the other students still in the classroom spun their heads to look at him.
“Where’s your next class?” he asked. Dipper fished into his pocket to grab his schedule.
“Government. In building four,” he answered, trying to avoid eye contact, but there was nowhere to look without meeting someone’s eyes.
“I’m headed toward building four, I can show you the way.” He was definitely eager to help.
“I’m Lee,” he added. Dipper offered a small smile, thanking him.
He waited by the door as Lee grabbed his jacket from one of the hooks, following him out of the building and into the rain, which had begun to pick up. Dipper felt like he was being followed closely by the other students, looking to eavesdrop or ask him questions. I’m being paranoid.
“So, this is a lot different than California, huh?” Lee asked.
“Somewhat,” Dipper mumbled, hoping the conversation could end as quickly as it started.
“It doesn’t rain much there, does it?”
“No, they’re in a drought.”
“Wonder what that must be like,” he pondered.
“Sunny,” Dipper told him.
“You don’t look very tan.”
“My mother is part albino.”
Lee paused in his steps, turning to face Dipper and studied his face. Dipper sighed. I guess they don’t have humor here.
Lee raised his eyebrow at him but turned back around and continued walking. Dipper followed him around the cafeteria, to the south buildings that were located near a gym. Lee walked him straight to the door, even though it was clearly marked.
“Well, good luck,” he said as Dipper touched the handle. “Maybe I’ll meet your sister today, too.” He sounded hopeful.
Dipper gave him a vague smile and continued inside.
The rest of the morning went by in the same repeated events for Dipper. His trigonometry teacher, Professor Powers, was the only one who forced Dipper to introduce himself. He stumbled over his words, felt his face grow a tint of pink, and stumbled over his own shoes on the way to his seat.
After two classes, Dipper began recognizing many of the faces. In each one, there was always someone who’d come up to him, say their name, and ask him several questions about Gravity Falls. Dipper tried his best to be polite but mostly stated the easiest, fakest lies he could think of. At least I never needed the map.
The same girl sat next to him in Trigonometry and in Spanish, and walked with Dipper to the cafeteria for lunch. She was very short. Dipper couldn’t remember her name for the life of him, so simply smile and nodded as she spoke. He drowned out the talking and kept to his own thoughts.
Dipper noticed Mabel sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the cafeteria to where the no-named girl was taking him to. She noticed him, giving him a small wave, before returning back to her conversations. At least she’s making friends, he thought.
They sat down at one of the circular tables that had seated several of the no-named girl’s friends. She introduced them to Dipper, but he quickly forgot their names after they were spoken. One of the tables near Mabel had Lee seated, who waved at Dipper as well.
Sitting in the lunchroom, failing to make meaningful conversation with the strangers, Dipper noticed them.
There were five of them; they sat in a corner of the cafeteria, as far away as possible from everyone else. They weren’t talking and they weren’t eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren’t goggling at Dipper and Mabel like every other student had been. Dipper felt safe to stare at them without the fear of meeting another’s gaze. This was not what caught Dipper’s attention, though.
They didn’t look anything alike. There were three boys at the table — one who had serious muscles and curly hair, another who was taller and leaner but still muscular with brown hair, and the last one was lanky with untidy, yellow blonde hair that got darker towards the roots. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they belonged elsewhere than a high school.
The girls were much different. There was one who was tall, had an hourglass figure — one that Mabel would be jealous of, even if she already had a lean body — with long, straight, bright pink hair. It reached the middle of her back. The shorter girl was almost like a fairy; she was thin with small features. Her hair was short and full of spikes, colored a deep green.
Yet, they are all exactly alike, Dipper questioned in more of a statement. Each of them had extremely pale skin — paler than Dipper and Mabel and every other student in the school — and had very dark eyes. They had dark shadows under their eyes, like bags, as if none of them had slept very well in many nights. All of their features, especially their noses, were straight, perfect, and angular.
Dipper could not fuel his ability to look away.
He stared because while their faces were so different, so similar, they all were incredibly, inhumanely, insanely beautiful. They were the faces one only expected to see on the cover of a magazine, in a movie, on TV: airbrushed to perfection. It was hard for Dipper to decide on who was the best looking, but his eyes kept gravitating towards the lanky, blonde-haired boy.
None of them were looking at each other or at any of the other students; looking at nothing in particular, from what Dipper could see. As he watched, the small green-haired girl stood with her tray — untouched — and walked away with a graceful pace that was similar to a doe. Dipper watched, amazed at the steps of someone who was likely a dancer, until she dumped her tray in the trash can and exited through the back door, faster than he thought possible.
“Who are they?” Dipper asked at no one in particular, though hoping someone at his table would answer.
The no-named girl looked up and followed Dipper’s gaze, realizing who he had meant — though they seemed to know from his tone alone. Suddenly, the lanky, blonde-haired boy flickered his gaze to her for a fraction of a second before his gaze met Dipper’s.
The boy looked away quickly, faster than Dipper could, and through an extreme flush of embarrassment, he moved his gaze down to stare at his tray. In the milliseconds of shared eye contact, his eyes held no expression. It was almost as if the girl had said his name and he looked up with an involuntary response. One that he chose not to answer.
The girl next to Dipper giggled in embarrassment, looking down at the table as well.
“That’s Bill Cipher and his family: Pyronica, Xanthar, and Keyhole. The one who left is 8-Ball; they all live together with Dr. Kryptos and his wife,” she explained. Dipper raised his eyebrow at the odd names before glancing once more at the blonde-haired boy, who was now picking at the food on his tray. His mouth was moving quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three still did not look at one another, though Dipper was sure that he was speaking.
Strange names, Dipper thought. The kinds of names that cartoon characters or professional wrestlers had. But maybe they were nicknames, just like his own was. Dipper finally remembered the no-name girl’s name: Wendy. Dipper hadn’t known any Wendy’s back in Piedmont.
“They are… very nice-looking,” Dipper spoke, struggling with the conspicuous statement.
“Yes, they are!” Wendy agreed, continuing to giggle. “They’re all like, together, though — Keyhole and Pyronica, Xanthar and 8-Ball. And they live together.” Her voice held the shock and condemnation one would find when a southerner said to bless someone’s heart. Though, Dipper admitted that this would cause gossip in nearly any town, even in Piedmont.
“Which ones are the Ciphers?” Dipper asked. “They don’t look related.”
“Oh, they’re not,” Wendy responded, shaking her head. “Dr. Kryptos is very young, probably in his twenties or thirties. They’re all adopted. Xanthar and Pyronica are related, though — twins. They’re all foster children.”
Huh, another pair of twins in this town? How odd.
“They look a little old for foster children.”
“They are now,” Wendy shrugged. “Xanthar and Pyronica are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cipher since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”
“That’s kind of nice, I guess?” Dipper said, confused about the whole ordeal. “For them to take care of all those kids like that, and everything.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she admitted reluctantly, and Dipper got the impression that she didn’t really like the doctor and his wife, for one reason or another. With the glances thrown towards the Ciphers, he assumed it was envy. “I think that Mrs Cipher can’t have any kids, though.”
Throughout the conversation, Dipper’s eyes moved towards the table now-and-again. The strange family continued to look at nothing and not eat.
“Have they always lived in Gravity Falls?” Dipper asked. How could he have not noticed them in one of his many summers here? Had Mabel noticed them?
“No,” Wendy said in a voice that implied it should’ve been the obvious answer. “They moved here two years ago from Alaska.”
A surge of pity and relief ran through Dipper — so he hadn’t failed to notice someone, after all. They were outsiders, like him, and clearly not accepted. He was glad that him and Mabel weren’t the only newcomers, and he was very glad that he was nowhere near the most interesting one.
Dipper continued to study them, when one of them looked up and met his gaze. There was curiosity in his expression. Dipper looked swiftly away and felt like his glance held some sort of expectation that had been unmet.
“Which one is the boy with the blondish brown hair?” Dipper asked, peeking at him from the corner of his eye. The boy was still staring at him, but not in the same gawking way that the other students had. In fact, he looked frustrated. Dipper looked down at his tray again.
“That’s Bill. He’s gorgeous, like the rest of them, but I wouldn’t waste your time. He doesn’t date.” Dipper felt his face flush at the idea of dating another man, one that seemed like it may have been unwelcome in such a small town. He wasn’t even sure if he was gay — the thought never occurred to him. He’d had small schoolgirl crushes on girls before, sure, but he’d never actually dated anyone before. Especially not a guy.
“Apparently none of the girls are good-looking enough for him,” she sniffed, a clear case of jealousy. Dipper wondered when he’d turned her down.
Are the guys, though? Dipper thought, but shrugged away the thought. Why was he even thinking about this? Because it was suggested to him by a girl he’d known for two hours? This is stupid.
Dipper bit his lip to try to hide his smile, hoping that no-one else would notice his change in expression. What even was he smiling for? That Bill was single? He didn’t even know him, yet.
He glanced over at him again but his face was turned away, though Dipper thought that he may have been smiling too.
A few minutes passed and the four of them left the table together. They were all notably graceful, just like the green-haired girl, and even the muscular one. It was almost unnerving to watch. Bill did not look at Dipper again.
Dipper sat at the table with Wendy and her friends longer than he would have had he’d been sitting alone. He was anxious not to be late for class on his first day. One of the students he’d recently met — her name was Candy — had Biology II with him the next hour. They walked to class together in silence, and it seemed she was shy, too.
Entering the classroom, Candy sat at a black-topped lab exactly like the ones that Dipper had at his previous school. He paused to scan the classroom, noticing that all the tables were filled but one; in the center aisle, the only open seat was next to Bill Cipher.
Dipper walked up to the desk, introducing himself to the teacher and getting his paper signed, sneaking glances at Bill. Just as he passed, he went stiff in his chair. Bill stared at Dipper again, his expression hostile and unfriendly. Dipper looked away quickly, uncomforted by the confrontation, and blushed. Walking down the aisle, he tripped over someone’s bag and caught himself on the edge of the table. The girl sitting there laughed at him.
Bill’s eyes were black — black as coal.
Mr. Trigger had signed Dipper’s paper and handed him a textbook with a lack of introductions, which he appreciated. Dipper felt like he was going to like this class, aside from the elephant in the room: Bill was clearly antagonistic towards him, and he had to sit in the only empty seat in the classroom. Dipper was bewildered by the sentiment.
He didn’t look up as he set his textbook on the table but noticed Bill’s posture change out of the corner of his eye; he leaned away from Dipper, on the edge of his chair, with an expression that said he’d just watched someone’s dog die. Dipper furrowed his eyebrows, adjusting the hat on his head as if to build a wall between the two of them.
The lecture of the day was on cellular anatomy, something that Dipper had already learned back home. He took notes anyways, mainly so he could stare at his notebook and ignore the one next to him.
He wasn’t able to stop himself from sneaking peeks through his peripheral vision to the blonde boy next to him. The entire class, he never strayed from his rigid position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far away from Dipper as possible. The hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, which he never released either. The long sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his forearms were surprisingly muscular beneath his porcelain skin. He wasn’t nearly as lanky he’d looked next to his brother.
Dipper felt like this class was dragging on longer than the others, but realized it was likely because he, too, was on-edge. Bill’s aggressive presence was making him incredibly uncomfortable.
Was this his normal behavior? Dipper questioned. Bill was sat so still, it almost looked like he wasn’t breathing. What is wrong with him? It doesn’t have to do with me, does it? He doesn’t even know me.
Dipper looked up at him once more, immediately regretting the decision. Bill was still glaring intensely at him, his black eyes full of repulsion. Dipper flinched away from him, hoping he could shrink into his chair, or maybe a black hole instead. If looks could kill…
The bell rang loudly, startling Dipper, and Bill Cipher was suddenly out of his seat and out the door before anyone else. He’s taller than I thought.
Dipper sat frozen in his seat, staring blankly at the door. Why was he so mean? That wasn’t fair. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before proceeding to collecting his things, trying to block the emotions flooding through him. Whenever he was angry, he had the tendency to cry, and that was something he didn’t want to do in front of his biology class.
“Aren’t you Mason Pines?” someone asked. Dipper looked up to see a short, baby-faced boy with dirty blonde hair gelled in a fell swoop back, smiling at him in a friendly way. At least this guy doesn’t hate me.
“Dipper,” he corrected him, flashing a small smile back.
“I’m Thompson.”
“Hi, Thompson.”
“Do you need any help finding your next class?”
“I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I know where that is.”
“That’s my next class, too,” he grinned. Dipper considered this awkward, though he reminded himself it wasn’t that big of a coincidence in a school this small.
The two walked to the gym together. Thompson was a talkative person who kept up both sides of the conversation, which Dipper appreciated. He’d lived in California until he was ten, so he understood how Dipper felt about the state. It turned out he was in his English class, too. I think he’s the nicest person I’ve met today.
Entering the gym, Thompson turned his head and looked at Dipper, asking “so, did you stab Bill Cipher with a pencil or something? I’ve never seen him act like that.”
Dipper cringed, hating that others had noticed the uncalled for animosity. And apparently, that was not Bill Cipher’s usual behavior.
“Was that the guy next to me in biology?” Dipper asked, playing dumb.
“Yes,” he nodded. “He looked like he was in pain or something.”
“I’ve never spoken to him,” Dipper responded, shrugging.
“He’s a weird guy.” Thompson opened the door to the locker room, gesturing for Dipper to follow. “If I sat next to you, I would’ve talked to you. I heard your sister is nice, too.”
“Yeah, she is,” he smiled, walking through the door to the boys’ locker room. Thompson was friendly, Dipper thought, but it was not enough to ease his irritation.
The gym teacher handed Dipper an extra uniform, which he appreciated so he wouldn’t have to end up on some skins team, if that’s what they did here. In Piedmont, only one year of physical education was required to graduate, but in Gravity Falls, all four years was mandatory. This is literally my personal hell on Earth.
Dipper attempted to join in on the volleyball game but was quickly asked to sit out after he’d been pelt in the face with the ball. The gym teacher gave him a back of ice, which he reluctantly held to his cheek for the remainder of the hour. He felt slightly nauseated.
The final bell rang. At last! Dipper thought. He walked to the office to return his paperwork, hoping to find Mabel there as well. The rain had finished but the wind remained and it felt colder than it had before. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.
Dipper walked into the office but almost turned straight around and back out.
Bill Cipher stood at the front desk, with Dipper recognizing his messy, blonde-brown hair. He didn’t notice his entrance. He pressed himself against the back wall, waiting his turn.
Bill was arguing with the secretary in a low, yet attractive — what? — voice. Dipper quickly picked up the fact that he was trying to trade his biology class to another time: any other time. What the hell did I do to this guy?
Dipper was in disbelief that this was happening. It had to be something else, right? What did he ever do to the guy? He hadn’t even said a single word to him. The look on his face had to have been a different situation entirely, right? Why would a stranger take a sudden hatred to him?
The door opened again, wind gusting through the room, and Dipper noticed his sister entering the office as well. She gave him a look, noticing something was wrong, but Dipper shook his head and she dropped it. She stood next to him, waiting for their turn.
Bill Cipher’s back tensed and he turned slowly around, his glare sending a shiver up Dipper’s spine. His face was absurdly handsome but his eyes were piercing with disgust. Dipper felt genuine fear even though the look lasted less than a second. Bill turned back to the secretary.
“Never mind, then,” he said hastily. “I can see that’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.”
He turned on his heel without another look and disappeared out the door.
“What did you do, bro-bro?” Mabel asked him once the door shut. Dipper shook his head, trying to forget the entirety of his day.
They walked up to the desk and each handed the secretary their signed papers.
“How did your first day go?” the woman asked the twins.
“Fine,” Dipper lied, but she nor Mabel looked convinced.
“Good,” Mabel answered, raising her eyebrow at Dipper.
The two made their way back to the truck, which was nearly the last car in the parking lot. Dipper felt a rush of relief covering himself as he unlocked the door and slipped inside. Mabel followed suit, still glaring at him.
“You’re not going to tell me what happened with you today, are you?” she asked. Dipper looked outside the windshield, blankly.
“Later,” he finally breathed, turning the key in the ignition. He pulled out of the lot and drove them back to the Shack, fighting tears the whole way there.