A/N: Okay, so I hope this is good. This is heavily inspired by MechaMax's Patience Equals Progress. Only thing is that they haven't added a second chapter since end of 2014. So, seeing as I really love the plot, I am kinda continuing it? Sorta? But yeah. This chapter's plot belongs to MechaMax; Gravity Falls and Paranorman, belong to their respective owners. Seeing as this is a high school au none of the characters have done anything to due with the supernatural or have anything supernatural about them. They are simply just strange people. I hope you all enjoy!

It was late at night. The blue of an august sky was gone, replaced with the dark black of midnight. Norman stared at his bedroom ceiling, listening to the arguments of his parents from the kitchen. Did they honestly believe that he couldn't hear them? It wasn't as if he was actively listening, they were just simply loud. It also didn't help that voices seemed to carry in the house.

"He's a freak! Middle school was hard enough for him, but if he keeps up this weirdo business, he's going to be eaten alive!" His father's words drifted up, piercing through the haze around Norman's brain. It didn't bother him, though. His father wasn't wrong.

"He's just different! If those children can't see beyond his flaws then he shouldn't want to be friends with them!"

Though, his mother had a point as well. Maybe people just needed to give him a chance. Norman sighed and rolled over in his bed, staring at his zombie alarm clock. Maybe that was his problem. He was blatantly obsessed with zombies. There were twenty seven posters of old zombie movies adorning his walls, five zombie shirt in his wardrobe, and sixty two (he had counted just last thursday) total zombie themed items decorating the room. Even the bedsheets were adorned by a gravestone with a green and withered hand breaking through the ground. Maybe this was the problem. He stared at his bookbag, a simple black bag, and nodded to himself before sliding out of bed and moving soundlessly over to the bag. His mother would kill him if she found out he was up this late with the first day of school tomorrow. Normal quickly dumped the contents of the bag onto his bed. Faces of cartoon zombies greeted him, printed on notebooks, folders, pencil bags and more. Growling, he pushed everything off his bed. He would use Courtney's old folders and notebooks until he could convince his mother to exchange the zombie ones. Maybe his dad would be on his side for once. Norman chuckled as his father's response formed in his head.

"Glad you're getting over that weird obsession of yours, son!"

Norman crawled back under the sheets, suddenly more tired than he had been in days. Rolling away from the black backpack, he shut his eyes as sleep claimed him.

Norman had not spoke at all in the car ride to school, simply answering his mother's questions with nods and shakings of his head. He had tried, in the beginning of the morning. Tried to smooth down his hair, tried to look more presentable, but had given up- his hair would not lay flat, and no matter what he wore the urge to put his red hoodie on top was stronger than his urge to fit in. When he got his schedule at school, he simply walked to the least populated area of the commons and looked it over. It wasn't a terrible schedule- english 1 honors, geometry, lunch seventh period, which was the worst time to have it, but oh well. Of course, the electives he had (conditioning and theater 1) were never his first choice, but they would be fine. He would be fine.

And that hope disappeared when the bell rang.

People were everywhere, rushing back and forth to get to new classes, and the air filled with even louder shouts from friends telling friends of when they would meet them. Norman grabbed the straps of his backpack as if it was his lifeline. Quickly, he set off through the crowd to lower F Pod, passing pretty girls, jocks, nerds, emos, and then the people who he couldn't place in a social group. And, of course, there were the freaks.

Every now and then he would see Selma, a girl who was one of the few people he could technically count as a friend in middle school, but she was with rather attractive looking people, and didn't really look like she wanted to be bothered. She was even in his second period, though she sat in the middle and he sat in the back and she didn't seem to hear him when he called out to her at the start of class. So, when he saw he in the hallway on his way to fourth period, he simply pretended that he did not see her, and she was far too busy talking to a tall blond boy to notice him. Though it didn't bother him much. The only thing they had in common was Neil, but Neil was now halfway across the country, and they had never did much together even when Neil was around. Simply eat lunch together out of habit, and they never could hold conversation for longer than a few short sentences.

Maybe, Norman thought, slightly hopeful, if I don't talk to her, I can really truthfully make a new friend. Though, in order to make friends one had to talk to people, and sitting quietly in the back of a classroom did not make one many friends.

It wasn't until he was on his way to history during the passing period between third and fourth that he realized if he wanted to make a friend, he would actually have to talk to people. Though, he doubted he could find someone to share an interest with in such a small town.

He sighed as he turned into the classroom before pausing, looking up when greeted with giggles and a fake deep voice before staring at the person in the front of the room. A tall boy stood, a crudely made paper mustache taped to his upper lip, curly brown hair covering his forehead. Glancing back at the room number, then at his schedule to assure he was in the right room, he took the seat closest to the wall in the back, near a rear door. He looked back at the boy, who was evidently the source of the deep voice. The boy was gesturing wildly and telling an obviously fake story. A few girls up front had not stopped giggling since Norman had walked in.

"Yes, but my Ma could not have saved it! If she did, well, where would I be today? Not teaching y'all I can assure you that!" Snorts of laughter erupted around the classroom, and a self satisfied smirk grew on the brown haired boys face. "Now. Any questions?"

"Yes, Mr Pines, I have a question." A large and booming voice called from the doorway. Instantly the laughter in the room quieted, and the boy turned towards to teacher slowly, a small and nervous grin spreading on his face. Norman stared at the tall man who stood in the doorway. Upon his lip was a mustache that looked rather like the one who boy wore.

"Oh come on, Prager." The boy's voice cracked as he pulled off the mustache. "Since when have I been Mr Pines? I thought I was your favorite student. 'Doctor Fun Times', and all that jazz."

The teacher -Prager?- moved to the front of the room, a small smile etched on his face.

"Mr Pines" he began, a very satisfied smirk upon his face, "Next time you decide to honor me with an impression, please remember that I am from South Carolina, not a farm in the middle of Texas. Please do give me some respect. Now, don't you have a class to get too?" The boy smiled, a relieved sort of smile, before heading towards the back door. "And tell Miss Jones that skipping homeroom will only be allowed once a week unless she gets a grade higher than a C." The funny boy snorted in response as the teacher turned to the class. "We start in two minutes."

And then it happened. The moment that felt as if it would change everything. Norman's pale blue eyes followed the boy, when suddenly brown, melted chocolate eyes locked upon them. Had Norman not been sitting right by the door, right by where the boy needed to go to leave, it wouldn't have happened. He doubted he would have thought about the boy again. But, instead, as the boy passed, he whispered to Norman, "Ask about the eighth and a half president if you don't want to do anything all class." And then he winked, ran his hand over the top of his hair, whispered "Neat hair" and left. As simple as that. As weird as that.

Norman never did ask about the eighth and a half president. Asking something like that would probably give him a label as a freak, and he didn't exactly want help with that. The next two periods passed almost the same as the first three: he sat in the back of the groups, only talked when he needed to, and tried to stay out of everyone else's way. But, now a new challenge arrived. Lunch.

Lunch was important. You sat with your friends. You had your table. You had your spot at your table. The only problem was, Norman had no one to sit with, therefor no table, and no spot.

He stood, lunch tray in hand, staring at the mass of students sitting at circular tables. There was not a single completely empty tables, and he simply couldn't go and sit with a random person. He felt a slight breath of relief when he spotted Selma. Well, if they shared lunch he could just sit at her table -there was even a seat there!- and he didn't have to talk to her. She didn't even have to acknowledge his presence, though a 'Hello Norman' would be nice. He decided it. It would work. But, as soon as he set off, Selma and the girls who surrounded her stood up, dumped their trays, and went outside, and a short boy swooped in and took her table. Suddenly his mouth felt dry. His one hope, his last hope, was not gone. He looked around again- maybe he missed a table. And then, he saw someone he recognized. The curly brown hair made it easy. The boy from history, Pines, was sitting at a table, reading a book as a girl in a bright pink sweater gestured widely. He stared at them. They sat at a table closest to the wall, and six empty seats sat across from them. Books and bags littered half of the table. Pines was the only one who had talked or even noticed him all day. He seemed friendly enough. Would it be alright?

He had stared for too long. The girl was now looking at him, head cocked like a dogs, before elbowing Pines. A wave of panic coursed through Norman. The boy, at the girls touch,looked at her, glanced at Norman, said something to the girl and then looked back at his book. The girl rolled her eyes at Pines before looking back at Norman, a grin spreading on her face before she waved him over. He blinked, and pointed at himself. The girl nodded, and her grin grew to seemingly impossible width. Slowly, he made his way to stand in front of the pair. The girl's smile shrunk, but stayed as bright and genuine.

"Hello!"

Norman blinked at how loud she was. "Hello."

"You're a freshman, right? Just sit with us. First days are hard." Norman smiled gratefully at her as he plopped down across from them.

"Gosh your hair is pretty cool. Sorry if that sounds weird, but it is. Right Dip?" She said this all very fast before looking at Pines. His fork, which had been on it's way to shovel corn into his mouth, froze in mid air as the boy glanced at both had the same melted chocolate brown eyes, the same round face, and the same brown curls. Siblings?

"Must take a lot of gel." Was all the boy said. The girl glared at him, before turning back to Norman.

"Excuse my twin. Anyway, I'm Mabel, that's Dipper, and you are?" It took a few seconds for Mabel's question to sink in.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Norman." This got both twins to look up at him, identical quizzical expressions upon their faces. Then, Mabel laughed.

"Norman?" Mabel asked, voice less peppy than it had been.

"Yeah"

"Great" Dipper responded, rolling his eyes. Mabel elbowed him in the gut.

"What? What's the matter with my name?"

"Oh, nothing," Mabel said, spinning pasta onto her fork and shoving it into her mouth. "I just dated a guy named Norman a few years ago, that's all."

"And he was the worst shit to ever live"

"Dipper!" Mabel shouted and slapped his shoulder. Dipper grunted in pain before staring back at his book, evidently deciding to ignore his table mates. "Look." She said, turning to Norman. "He was sweet, just, not exactly what I thought he was." Norman could see Dipper rolling his eyes.

They continued in comfortable silence for several minutes until Mabel loudly exclaimed, "I thought you knew him!"

Immediately, Dipper's head shot up from his book and to his twin, obvious anger burning in his eyes. "I said I thought I recognised him, there is a difference, Mabel!"

Mabel's voice was equal to her twins. "Well, you don't have to act so rudely to him! You are so strange sometimes, Dip! Anyway,"-she switched so suddenly from angry to kind it made Norman's head spin- "what's the difference? You'll never make friends of your own with a mindset like that."

"Please, Mable, they are as much my friends as they are yours!"

"I don't disagree with that, but I was the one who made them. You just kinda tagged along and stuff."

Dipper responded by sticking his tongue out, and just like that the argument was finished. The trip fell back into silence.

Beep beep. The eclectic sound of a text was amplified by the table, and Mabel grabbed for her phone. Her eyes shifted back and forth as she read the text message and typed out her reply, sending it off with a loud sigh before returning her attention to Norman. The pair talked, ignoring Dipper, about simple things.

"What's your favorite class?"

"Either History or English."

"Who's your homeroom teacher?"

"Nelson."

"Ouch, I feel sorry for you. What electives do you have?"

"Conditioning and theater 1."

"Those aren't bad. The theater teacher is pretty cool. Well, it does depend on who you have. I had Lisley for homeroom last year, she was pretty lit. I have the other one -Jonsins or something- for broadway dance this year."

Slowly, the conversation turned towards the twins and basic high school survival, topics much more comfortable to Norman. "This is our second year of high school. It honestly isn't as bad as it seems. Middle school was way worse. And unless you do some weird stuff, you can blend in and go under the radar." She said this as if Norman had explained his plan to her. "But what fun is that? How are you going to leave behind a legacy if you go under the radar? It's high school movies fault. They impose that you have to fit into a certain clique, but, take me for example. I'm a nerd, a jock, fairly popular and one of those weird girls. It's really hard to find the one clique you fit into. Plus, unlike Captain Buzzkill over here, I have a talent for making friends." Seems legit. Afterall, she had lured him in, hadn't he? Although, Dipper had seemed fun earlier that morning.

Suddenly, Dipper stood, gathered his stuff and walked away. Mabel watched him, making small tsk tsk noises. Norman stared after him.

"What was that all about?" Mabel glanced at him, and smiled a bit.

"He's been crushing on a girl ever since we went to this big party at her house. It's strange though, because he pretends to hate her. I dunno, they both are strange though, maybe they would be good together. But anyway, you're always welcome to sit with us! And don't mind Dip."

Norman stared after him. "He seem's… tricky."

"Oh, no, he's super simple. He gets good grades, like ghosts and all that weird supernatural stuff, doesn't pay much attention to things. He's got all these cool interests but really only shares them with me, which is stupid, how does he expect to make friends? And yeah, our group is really tight, but at first Dip just kinda, tagged along and stuff." Dipper did not sound simple to Norman. The boy hesitated before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

"In History, Dipper was there. He seemed like such a fun guy. What happened?" Mabel laughed, a real, hard laugh, for a minute or so. Norman waited for her to calm down.

"Oh, that." A grin threatened to spit Mabel's face. "We were, well we were all outside the classroom at the time. Coraline bet him that he couldn't make a scene or something. I think he did pretty well." Mabel was still laughing as she stood up. "Welp, I'm going to go to my locker now. Anyway, see you tomorrow new friend!" She shouted as she sprinted away. Norman felt a smile grow on his face. She had called him a friend.

When Norman go home, his mother asked him what he had been dreading at the beginning of the day: "Did you make any friends today, Norm?"

Norman looked up from his book, glancing at his mother. "Yeah. I did."

A brief look of surprise crossed her face before she blinked and smiled brightly. "That's great, Norman! Tell me all about them."

"I sit with them at lunch."

"Them?"

"A pair of twins" Norman answered, finding it easier to lie and claim that he was friends with both twins instead of just one.

"Well that's great! You know what? Pizza for dinner!" His mother shouted, before smiling and walking out of the room. Norman stared at the door frame. Maybe he didn't have the worst first day possible.