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Ford did not keep secrets from his twin brother.
It was less a matter of morality than it was of practicality. In his 12 years of life, Ford could not remember a time in which he’d been harboring a secret that Stanley was not a part of. They’d crept onto the beach to work on the Stan O’ War under the moonlight cover of their parent’s snores together, Ford had watched the classroom door when Stan had snuck that dead rat they’d found in Crampelter’s bookbag, and even on those nights when the harsh words of his bullies (and more often than he’d like to admit: his father) became too much and Ford half-choked himself trying to muffle his sobs into his pillow, it was not long before Stan knew. Ford’s mattress would dip and his twin would be there, scratching lazy patterns into his back.
“Come on, Sixer,” he’d said, again, and again until Sixer didn't feel like something so bad to be.
Admittedly, their world was so much larger now, with Grauntie Mabel, and Fiddleford, and all of the other friends they’d met in Gravity Falls, but there still wasn’t anything Ford knew that Stan did not. Except for one thing.
Ford was not supposed to be in Gravity Falls that summer.
This fact had eaten Ford up in the days leading to their departure. He’d had nightmares of Pa changing his mind, clamping a hand down on Ford’s shoulder and forcing him to watch Stanley’s stricken face pressed against the window as the bus to Oregon disappeared.
Pa had decided to send Stanley away after he’d shattered a display case in the pawnshop trying to take out one of the gold chains. I was going to shine it. It was supposed to be a present, Stanley explained to Ford later, voice thick. But, in the moment, any of Stan’s explanations had died on his tongue under Pa’s harsh glare. Ford had cringed away just being in its proximity. Pa said nothing, simply snatching the chain from Stanley’s lax fingers, and fisting a hand into the back of the boy’s shirt, half-dragging him up the stairs to their apartment. Ford had followed behind anxiously.
“Stay there,” Pa finally snapped, throwing Stanley into their bedroom and slamming the door.
Ford was paralyzed in the living room. He longed to comfort his brother. He feared the repercussions of doing so if Pa wanted Stanley to be alone. He didn’t know what to do, so he stood perfectly still and held his breath until Pa stormed into the kitchen, barking out their mother’s name.
Ford could only make out fragments: that knucklehead, stealing from me, cost to replace, but it wasn’t until he heard Oregon that he’d slunk closer.
“Oregon?” Ma was asking.
“Yeah. I got an uncle—No, wait, I think it’s an aunt. Aunt May-something. She lives in the middle of nowhere and runs some tourist trap. I’m sure she’d take the little brat for the summer.”
“I don’t know…That’s on the other side of the country. The twins have never even been away from home before.”
“Twins?” Pa scoffed. “Stanford can stay. It’s the other one I want out of here.”
“You can’t!” And then Ford was also in the kitchen, blood roaring in his ears and sweat collecting in the well of his clenched fists. He couldn’t be without Stanley for three months! The longest they'd spent apart was one disastrous school day in the third grade when Stan had been down with a fever, and Ford had been forced to attend without him. After that, if one of them was sick, the other would fake it.
Ford’s adrenaline began to cool as he watched his outburst roll over Pa’s blank expression. Oh, I'm going to be in so much trouble for eavesdropping. Ford shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, swallowing. “I’d like to go with Stanley, please.”
There was that silence again, that held-breath silence that made Ford want to fold into himself until he was no bigger than the sand-crusted isopods Stanley and he dug up on the beach. The soft tinkle of Ma’s bangles finally cut through the atmosphere as she laid a gentle hand on Pa’s arm.
“It would be safer if the boys went together,” she said, her previous reservations seemingly forgotten. When her words seemed to have no visible effect, Ma’s voice changed to that same wheedling tone she used with her clients. “It would be nice to have the house to ourselves for a few months.”
“Fine,” Pa grunted, jerking his shoulder out of his wife’s grip. He turned his attention to Ford. “Go tell that dumbass I don’t want to see him until tomorrow.”
Ford nodded mutely. That meant Stanley would miss dinner, but Ford wasn't too concerned. He’d just sneak his twin something later like usual. “Yes, sir.”
A few days later, the pair were bundled onto the first bus of many to Oregon, and it wasn’t until Ford saw the town’s dust-covered billboard come into view that he realized that, for the first time in his life, he had a secret to keep from his brother.
***
“Who’s ready for Mabelcakes!” Their aunt sang, swaying over to the kitchen table and setting down a plate laden with pancakes onto its center.
“ME!” Stanley cheered, making a show of banging the heel of his fork and knife against the tabletop in a way he knew always made their aunt laugh.
And laugh she did, high and bright. A pair of twin syrup dispensers were then produced with a flourish, the googly eyes glued to their sides wobbling with the movement. “And, of course, strawberry for Lee, and good ol’ maple syrup for Ford.”
Ford had become an expert at carefully eating around the stray glitter and sequins—cast-offs from his aunt’s pink bathrobe that somehow always ended up in the batter—while his brother inhaled his breakfast with gusto, seemingly oblivious to the sparkly plastic intruders until he was picking them out of his teeth later.
“What? Scared of a little extra protein, Sixer?” Stanley teased, noticing his brother’s careful knife cuts.
Ford raised an eyebrow. “Plastic isn’t a protein, Stanley.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a protein!”
“Well, yes, the average human body is actually about 16% protein, but we’re not fully grown yet so I’m not sure how that would affect the perc–” Ford paused, noticing the shit-eating grin on his brother’s face. He rolled his eyes and huffed, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth as Stanley started laughing.
“Why do you know that?!” Stanley gasped, pointing his fork accusingly. “I knew it! You’ve been planning on eating me this whole time. You’re going to finish the job you failed to do in the womb.”
“What?” Ford giggled.
“Don’t deny it!” Stanley’s upper body was halfway across the table, but whatever play fight he’d been hoping to initiate was halted by the telephone ringing.
This wasn’t odd. Their aunt often received calls from her friends in town, usually from their “honorary aunts” Candy and Grenda. Ford was just grateful they’d already been served their breakfast, otherwise, it would be up to the twins to scrounge something up themselves. As much as Ford loved his aunt, the women tended to lose track of time, and he and Stanley had had to rescue burning pans before they set off the fire alarm more than once.
Thankfully, their aunt made a point to flip off the burner where her own pancakes were still cooking before disappearing into the living room.
“Hello? This is Mabel Pines.” There was a pause, and something in their aunt’s voice shifted. “Oh, Filbrick, how nice of you to call.”
Ford and Stanley shared an identical wince. Grauntie Mabel did not like Pa. She tried her best to hide her distaste for the twin’s sake, but it was evident from the moment she’d found out that she hadn’t misheard and their names were actually Stanford and Stanley.
Stanley had shrugged it off. “It was Pa’s idea.”
Mabel’s lips had pursed for a moment before they stretched into a beatific smile, ruffling their hair. “You don’t mind if I call you Ford and Lee, do you?”
She said it was “important for them to be their own people,” and so they’d been Ford and Lee since.
Suddenly, Mabel’s face reappeared in the doorway, stretching the landline’s cord to its limits. The bedazzled contraption was clutched in her grip in a way that looked painful. “Hey, sweeties, I’m sorry but could you finish your breakfast outside? It will just be a minute.”
They both nodded, making a show of picking up their plates and sliding out of their chairs. Once their aunt was gone, the plates were back and they were crouched next to the doorway. Pa never called. Ma was always the one to pick up the phone when Mabel did her weekly check-ins, and the few times the twins had spoken to their mother themselves, their father had never joined.
Mabel’s shoulders were drawn up to her ears, back turned to the twins as she seethed into the receiver. “Filbrick, what are you saying to me?”
Stanley shot Ford a wide-eyed look, his tooth gap more pronounced as he chewed his lower lip. Their aunt had never sounded like that before. Mabel’s aged pet pig, Waddles Jr., had also noticed the switch in his owner’s demeanor and had vacated his favored spot next to her armchair to nuzzle against her legs. Mabel scratched his ear absentmindedly.
“No, it’s not about that,” she snapped. “Lee is a delight to be around, even if you can’t see it. But the boys love each other so much, it would be cruel to separate them.”
Separate. Ford watched something in his brother’s face spasm. His own stomach was twisting, and didn’t think it was from the glitter. Their aunt was still talking, “If you want Ford back in New Jersey in a few weeks then Lee is coming with him, end of story. Otherwise–”
But Ford never got to hear Mabel’s ultimatum, for his brother was off like a shot, the back door slamming behind him as he disappeared into the woods.
Ford scrambled to follow. “Stanley, wait!”
“Boys?!” Their aunt cursed, and at any other moment it would be funny, but Ford didn’t think anything would ever be funny again. “We’re not through!” Mabel growled into the receiver before slamming it into its cradle.
Ford was half out the door when he felt his aunt pull him back gently by his arm. He felt himself go rigid for a minute as his mind processed Mabel’s unexpected speed, but soon he was thrashing. “Let me go! I have to go after Lee!”
Grauntie Mabel frowned, crouching down and running her hands up and down the length of his arms. Ford could feel himself starting to calm down, and a part of him hated her for it.
“I thought you two were outside,” she said. She didn’t sound angry, just sad.
Ford shrugged. A few moments passed, and Ford tried to wiggle out of his aunt’s hold again. “We need to go…”
“You two have been exploring those woods all summer. Lee will be alright for a few minutes,” she tilted her head. “I think he needs them, anyway. Breath for me, okay?”
Mabel ballooned her cheeks in demonstration, slowly blowing the air into his face until Ford giggled despite himself. He copied, sending a curtain of her hair behind her right shoulder, and then her left.
“Much better,” Mabel smiled, standing in one smooth motion. She held out her hand.
Ford took it, feeling his six fingers interlock comfortably with her five. “Don’t you want to change first? You’re still wearing your robe.”
His aunt shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time the gnomes have seen me like this….” She shivered slightly. “Let’s go find your brother.”
***
It was during their first week in Gravity Falls that they’d found it: two small trees that had grown towards each other and fused from their middle to their tops, creating a perfect archway. The twins had paused, pouring over their recently acquired journal to see if there was a supernatural explanation for the strange formation. Ford had been half-hoping it was a gateway to the faerie realm but, alas, it was simply Mother Nature’s own brand of odd.
Assured that he wasn’t about to be sucked into any alternate dimensions, Stanley had stood in front of the faux doorway and pretended to be a traveling salesman hawking increasingly more ridiculous products until Ford could barely contain his laughter long enough to play his role of intrigued customer. Soon, they’d grown bored with the limitations of a doorway and began gathering sticks and leaves to build out a proper fort. Fiddleford had even donated an old tarp he’d found on his family’s farm to make the roof water-tight. Thus, the “Stan O’ War Camp” was born.
If there was any place Stanley would be, it would be there. Ford and Mabel spent the twenty-minute walk with their hands intertwined, even as the heat of the day began to creep in and Ford could feel the sweat begin to slick his palm. Mabel squealed as the camp came into view. “Oh, how cute! Wait…I was wondering where that sweater went!”
Ford blushed. Stanley had borrowed their aunt’s Fourth of July sweater to use as a flag. Ford could see it hanging limply from its pole atop the fort.
“We were going to give it back,” Ford offered quietly.
“You boys could have just asked me to make you a flag, silly! Maybe that should be our project for the rest of the day, hmm?” Mabel’s eyes practically shone. “I have so many rhinestones…”
The closer the pair got to the fort, the tighter the knot in the pit of Ford’s stomach had become, but to hear that there would be a rest of the day—that they would get through this together—made something in Ford unlock. “I’d like that,” he said, meaning it.
They approached the fort, and Ford hesitantly knocked on one of the tree trunks. He suddenly wished they hadn't tacked up an old bed sheet to cover the archway so he could just peer inside instead. “Lee, are you in there? Can we come in?”
There was no answer, but Ford could hear his brother’s muffled sniffles. Men don’t cry, Pa said. It was a standard of behavior that Ford couldn’t master (not for lack of trying), but Stanley never gave him a hard time about it. The same couldn’t be said about how Stan treated his own tears—each drop of liquid was a moral failing, and his twin would sit with the heel of his palms pressed hard against his eyes as if to force them back inside. It was this pose that Ford found his brother in as he pulled back the curtain, and ducked into the camp.
Stan was pressed against the far left wall, bark digging into his cheek. One of their aunt’s handmade blankets was flung over his lap. Ford sat down, shuffling his butt across the dirt floor to make room as Mabel crawled inside. The fort was large enough to fit Ford, Stan, and Fiddleford comfortably, but it was a bit of a tight fit with a full-grown woman added to the mix. Ford briefly remembered their vague No Girls Allowed rule but figured great aunts didn’t count.
The smell of pine was heavy in the still air. Mabel’s eyes roamed around the fort, no doubt recognizing her “misplaced” knick-knacks that decorated the space. Nobody said anything for a moment. Then, Stanley sniffed loudly, dropping his hands to regard Ford with red-rimmed eyes. “I bet he just sent me here to get rid of me.”
Ford tensed. He’d defended their father before. Justification had always come easy even if the words had felt fumbled and jagged—because parents loved their children and, despite everything, Ford had held that fact to be true. But now he was presented with a new fact: that Pa had decided that Stanley was somehow unlovable, that he was something to be discarded, that he was nothing, and Ford couldn’t forgive that.
So, he said nothing, and his silence was the only confirmation Stanley needed. “I’m right! This was all a trick to get me out of his hair permanently, and you knew…You knew, and didn’t say anything!”
“That’s not true!” Ford felt tears start to build behind his own eyes, and he blinked rapidly. The fact Stanley would even think he’d keep something like that from him. “I-I knew that Pa wanted to send you to Gravity Falls alone for the summer, but since I convinced him to let me come too I figured the circumstances didn’t matter anymore…I never thought he’d want you to stay. I’m sorry.”
“No. ‘m sorry. Shouldn’t have yelled at ya,” Stanley shook his head miserably. “I just don't know why Pa hates me so much.”
“Because he’s an idiot.”
Ford and Stan both swung around to stare at their aunt with the same wide-eyed awe. No one had ever dared call their Pa an idiot. It was Stanley who found his voice first. “Wha—”
Mabel continued, undeterred. “He’s a close-minded, arrogant bastard who I am honestly embarrassed to be related to. The only good thing he’s ever done in his life is have both of you.”
“Grauntie,” Stanley gasped, lowering his voice into a whisper. “You said bastard.”
“Yes, I did,” she smiled, tucking her long gray hair over one shoulder and languidly combing out pine needles. “And when I call your father back I’m probably going to say it again.”
The twins laughed. “I’d pay money to see someone call Pa that to his f-face,” Stanley choked out, and the mental image sent the pair into another wave of hysterics. A few moments passed like this: an eruption of giggles spilling over whenever the boys made eye contact with each other until Ford’s sides had begun to hurt.
“Alright, boys, that’s enough.” Mabel spread her arms, wiggling her multicolored fingernails. “I believe it’s hug time.”
The twins groaned but complied easily. Ford crawled over her lap to tuck himself against her right side, as Stan finally emerged from his corner to occupy her left. Their aunt squeezed their shoulders gently before addressing each in turn.
“Lee, you are just so creative. Ah, what’s that face? Don’t think I haven’t seen those comic books you’ve been making.”
“They’re not that good…” Stan mumbled into his lap. His fingernails pierced the soft dirt under them.
“Well, I think they’re wonderful. Do you think I became the master crafter I am overnight?” As both her arms were occupied, Mabel did a little shimmy so the sequins on her robe caught the light streaming in from the gaps in the fort wall and a kaleidoscope of pink fragments filled the space. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, kiddo. If you keep at it you’re going to create something brilliant. I just know it.”
Stan flushed, hiding his face against their aunt’s side. Ford couldn’t help but stare. He had never seen his brother act so shy before.
“And Ford–” The boy startled slightly and glanced up. Mabel’s expression was fond. “You remind me so much of someone I knew when I was young. He was so smart that it scared me sometimes…But your intellect isn’t the only worthwhile thing about you, you’re also kind, and you’re such a good brother.”
She shook them both playfully. “You’re both good brothers. And I meant what I said on the phone, you need each other and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you can stay together. Now, if threatening your father into being a halfway decent parent didn’t work, I planned to just keep you both all to myself,” Mabel hummed. “However, I’ve since decided he doesn’t deserve you. So, boys, how does staying in Gravity Falls permanently sound?”
A blanket of shock settled over the twins. The curtain of their fort flapped as a breeze rolled through. A bird called in the distance. As usual, it was Stan who found his words first, even if they were little more than a whisper. “Really? Both of us?”
“Really.”
“But what about Pa?” Ford asked.
Grauntie Mabel smiled, something wicked in her gaze. “I’ll fight him.”
Ford didn’t doubt she would. “Ok,” he breathed, settling his head against his aunt’s shoulder. He was fairly certain he was inhaling glitter, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.