Chapter 13-Benighted but Preparing

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Hey!!! It hasn't even been a full month, guys! To the commenters:

TheTigerFoxx: ;D  Don't leave quite yet though.
SummerDonaldson: Perhaps~ Read closely and you might find more.
Akira_silver_star: Please don't die yet, I treasure readers.
Starfish232: I'll see what I can do, but as a writer, it is my job to make things interesting. Synonyms help with that. That's why I use "orbs" occasionally instead of "eyes". Also, if milk is the limiting factor, it's best to pour it first. ^_^

With that done, thanks a bunch for keeping with the story! I treasure every read, like, comment, and follow and they give me the will to keep writing! Now enjoy~


Chapter 13-Benighted but Preparing

Going back to school after having been absent bordering on two weeks is... strange, to say the least, for Dipper. He had been halfway through a stoichiometry lab in Chemistry and now the rest of the class is covering charge differences between similar formulas. History had two tests and his math class breezed through an entire chapter. His other classes have loads of homework and lessons, too.

The stares are uncomfortable. Teachers, with their pitying glances, and students, with their glares, questioning looks, and downright gawking. The worst part is when they gossip, saying he ran away from home, was sent to rehab, or some crap like that. The thing is, nobody has bothered to ask what happened.

After struggling through the first few hours of the day, Dipper hides in an empty corner of the cafeteria. Mabel soon plops down across from him and eagerly chows down on peanut butter sandwiches. (They had run out of jelly after Mabel made the first two, so she insisted Dipper take those as his. As per usual, he lost that argument. He did secure a promise from Stan to go grocery shopping later, especially after Ford grouchily dragged himself around the house like a zombie thanks to their noticeable lack of caffeinated beverages.) Bill joins them next, sitting beside Mabel and wary of existing too close to Dipper after the boy stabbed him with a broken pencil for teasing him too much. In Dipper's defense, it was weird for someone he couldn't recall in a positive light to make so many inside jokes that the brunette knew but did not associate with the blonde.

The three teens are making light conversation when a well-dressed student strides over to their table, heels clicking on the cafeteria tiles. "Can I sit here?" They ask, only a faint supercilious note within their familiar timbre.

Mabel's head shoots up to look at the platinum-blonde newcomer and brightens, nodding her head and exclaiming, "Yes! I've been needing to talk to you!"

Pacifica grins easily before taking the seat next to Dipper, diagonal to Mabel, who is between the wall and Bill. "I haven't seen you for, like, a week, Mabel," she starts. "And it's been longer for you." She nudges Dipper lightly to emphasize her statement. "What's been going on?"

Dipper is mildly surprised at the acknowledgment but says nothing. What can he say? 'Sorry, I was kidnapped or something and someone or something played with my brain.' He would sound crazy, which is what he's trying to not seem like.

"We, uh, had something come up. It just concerned my bro more than me... at least, to start with," Mabel explains, being purposefully vague.

Pacifica nods, smirk strained. "Oh. O... kay."

In a flash of panic, Mabel rushes to reassure, "I wasn't trying to avoid you or anything, though! I was just super busy! I swear! I swear on my glitter collection and knitting needles!"

The blonde's previous wariness is banished by her friend's promise. Properly grinning this time, Pacifica waves a careless hand. "I understand. Things happen, stuff comes up." She pops opens a name-brand lunch box worth just as much as the designer jacket she constantly wears. "I'm actually kind of glad, though. Not the being busy, but how you weren't purposefully avoiding me. I thought maybe the appeal of money had worn off~." Her words are teasing, but Dipper catches the nearly imperceptible tremble in them.

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