IRL
(Friday, November 20, 2015)
From the Journals of Dipper Pines: On the airplane! We're at 35,000 feet and heading north to Portland, Oregon, and then Grunkle Stan will meet us and drive us to Gravity Falls!
Two weeks ago, it looked as if this wouldn't happen, thanks to the prank picture Mabel took of me with Pacifica, Grenda, Candy, and Wendy all snuggled up to me, and me lying in bed wearing nothing but boxer briefs. Sultan Dipper and his harem or some deal. I didn't even realize Mabel had snapped the picture, so when Mom found it and hit the ceiling, it took me by surprise.
The parental jury came in with a verdict of guilty for Mabel, not guilt for me by reason of sister insanity, I suppose. Upshot, Mabel can't drive without Mom or Dad in the car until next year. She accepted that, but she's having a tough time with it.
But at least Mom didn't cancel our Thanksgiving trip. Except I'm not supposed to be alone with Wendy (or Pacifica or the other girls, for that matter). It's not that she doesn't trust me, but . . . she doesn't trust me!
That will be hard on me. But I'll pay the price and hope that by next summer things will go back to normal.
They haven't yet. This morning, Mom's farewell to Mabel was, "Remember, Mabel, I'm trusting you. I love you." The undertone was "Don't mess up."
I called Wendy to give her the news, and she said, "Good for you guys! You must have been all mature to bring your mom around."
"Yeah," I said. "I was pretty mature. Mabel had to struggle, but she was sort of mature."
Let's see . . . Bride of the Zombie is hanging in at number one on the National Times YA best-seller list. But Christmas books are already climbing up below it, so I won't be surprised if it drops back down in a week or two. I've had some long phone conversations with my agent, Bea Bergeron. Looks like I'm going to get about a 50% raise in advances for the next three books. Brangwen Books is working on the contract now. Page proofs for It Lurked in the Lake will come to the house next Tuesday or Wednesday. And then I have to start serious writing on Murder in Wax, which is the title the editor has suggested for my third book.
I guess, speaking writing-wise (my agent always talks like that—book-wise, career-wise, and so on. New York thing, I guess), I'm tooling right along.
It will be about seven o'clock when we land. About an hour from now. Now I'm going to close my Journal, close my eyes, and try to dream about my Lumberjack Girl.
Dipper Pines signing off. Peace. Out.
He didn't sleep, and when the plane banked and angled down for its landing, he sat up and looked out the window. Lights below—the sun set early in Oregon, around 4:40 or so, and it was full dark. The pilot's voice came on the PA—why did all pilots sound like they were from Georgia? "Ah, folks, this is Captain Lawrence, here tellin' you that we're about to make our final approach into Portland. Weather on the ground is cool, temp of thirty-eight, gusty winds, but no rain or snow in the forecast. We hope y'all enjoyed the flight, and thank you for choosin' Coastal Connections as your airline. Sit tight, and we'll be on the ground in just about twenty minutes."
The seat-belt sign came on, and the attendant told everyone to return the seats to full upright and to close and latch the tray tables.
"Whoa!" Mabel said as the plane lurched a little.
"Gusty wind," Dipper said. He asked, "You didn't draw on my face, did you?"
"No, Brobro! I am a reformed Mabel! I'm on my best behavior."
"Only slightly criminal, you mean?" Dipper asked.
"Yup!" she agreed happily.
The landing proved to be rough, with the plane bouncing and skidding a little—the wind was at twenty knots—but the airliner set down safely and taxied to the jetway. Mabel didn't make her usual push to the front—maybe she was serious about the best behavior thing—but waited until the passengers forward had cleared the aisle, and then she hopped up and retrieved their carry-on bags.
They hadn't done serious packing, since Mr. and Mrs. Pines would drive up on Wednesday and bring their big suitcases—and Dipper's guitar, if Mom remembered—up with them. Until then, the kids had what they were wearing, plus three changes, to last them until Wednesday. They planned to do laundry to make sure they could get through.
They lugged their carry-on bags out the airplane door, then pulled up the handles and rolled them. They had landed at C23, in accordance with the universal rule that wherever you disembark from an airplane, it will be the longest possible distance from where you want to get.
They walked down C concourse, with its wide inverted-V ceiling overhead and its green carpet underfoot, then took the escalators down to the baggage-claim area, where they expected to see Stan.
Instead—"Teek!" Mabel screamed. She dropped the handle of her trundle carry-on—Dipper barely caught it—and ran forward, jumping up onto Teek O'Grady, who caught her and stumbled around but kept his footing as she wrapped her legs around him and planted a kiss.
"Mgh!" he said. "That was great, but Mabel—you're heavy!"
Giggling, she dropped off him. "You rapscallion! Why didn't you tell us you were coming! Where's Grunkle Stan! Oh, my God, you look so good! I like the shorter hair! Did you drive?"
Dipper grinned at Teek's obvious flustering. If only—
"No hello for me, Dip?"
Dipper did a double-take at the tall woman standing off to the side. "Wendy! Wendy? Oh, gosh!"
"Does it make me look that different?" she asked, awkwardly stepping forward and hugging him, since he held a bag handle in each hand. She kissed him.
-Mm, missed this! Peppermint, dude!
Yeah, Wendy, but—your hair?
-Does it make me look ugly?
No! Not at all! But—it's so short!
-Tell you about that. Let's go. I'm drivin' us to the Falls. Bribed Stan!
"Come on, you two!" Mabel said. "Such a public display of affection! Shame on you!" She had her arm around Teek and her hand in his hip pocket. "New look for you, Wendy!"
"Yeah, it's not permanent," Wendy said. "Let's go!"
Her Dodge Dart was in short-term parking. They paid the fee and left the airport behind—Teek and Mabel in the backseat, Dipper beside Wendy in the front—and she said, "OK, the hair thing. One of my classmates in my night college classes has breast cancer."
"Oh, no!" Mabel said.
"Doctors are hopeful. They got it real early, and they think they got all of it. But she's having chemo, and she's already shaved off her hair. She asked the girls in the classes to donate hair for wigs for girls like her. I did what I could."
It was true—her glorious red mane had vanished, and now her hair was only a little longer than Dipper's. Oh, it was styled—a cute sort of upsweep in front—but it definitely made her look different. Still—"It doesn't look bad," Dipper said. "And I'm proud of you."
"Yeah, I'll let it grow out. It grows pretty fast. They say half an inch a month on average, but I got Corduroy genes. By the time you guys come up next summer, it'll be like six inches longer. Shoulder-length by the time you leave, and probably down to the middle of my back by the time Dip and I start college."
"How does it feel?" Wendy asked.
"Mm, gonna take some getting used to. I didn't really realize how heavy all that hair was. Just had this done day before yesterday. I was gonna wait, but then I thought if Dipper looked disappointed, I'd lose my nerve, so—took the plunge, man. You guys want to stop for dinner?"
"The heck with dinner!" Mabel—Mabel Pines, her own self!—shouted. "To the Falls! Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead!"
Dipper half-turned in the passenger seat. "Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?"
In the end, they settled for drive-through, picking up burgers at a Beaver's ("The Gigatoburger! Can you eat the whole dam thing?")
Dipper could hear Mabel gobbling in the backseat. He and Wendy always split a burger, and they were taking alternate bites, kissing in between. "Know what?" Wendy murmured. "Ketchup and mustard aren't as good for this as peppermint!"
"We have time," Dipper said.
Halfway to the Falls, they switched drivers—Teek was old enough by Oregon law to drive with teen passengers—and Wendy and Dipper got in some cuddling in the backseat. Through their touch telepathy, Dipper made some confessions to her: Sorry, Magic Girl, but we had to swear an oath to our parents that I wouldn't be alone with anybody in that photo on this trip. Somebody's always got to be with us.
—Mm. Don't stop, Dip, that's nice. Well, we can arrange that somehow. Guess no movie night, though?
Not unless Mabel and Teek join us, I guess.
-We'll work something out. Should I be worried, Dip? I keep getting little flashes of that Eloise girl.
Dipper laughed out loud. From the front seat, Mabel said, "What?"
"Nothing," Dipper said.
"I'm tickling him," Wendy said.
"Keep your hands outside his shirt," Mabel said primly. "I'm supposed to chaperone him."
"Yeah, and who's gonna chaperone you?" Dipper asked.
"Teek can do that."
"Mm-hmm," Wendy said. She kissed Dipper. Dipper mentally told her, I found Eloise online by accident—oh, yeah, I told you that. Back when I was feeling down, and I think you were in your night class or some deal, I called her and we talked on the phone. But she's away off in Minnesota, and I'm here, and anyway, I'm not attracted to her and vice versa. She's just a phone buddy. Somebody, you know—well.
—Gotcha, Dipper. You don't have too many people you can call, do you?
No. Couldn't talk to any of the guys on the track team, and—well, you're it, except for Eloise.
They had learned they could not only communicate words, but also feelings. Wendy had a rush of sympathy for him that embarrassed Dipper. "It's OK, he whispered. "I'll tell you all about Eloise later. We're not, you know, interested in each other. But we are both kind of interested in the paranormal, so . . . ."
"What are you two lovebirds plotting, hmmm?" Mabel asked.
Wendy caressed Dipper's neck, and he caressed hers Aloud, Wendy said, "Mabes, do me a favor, OK?"
"Name it!"
"Just shut up and ignore us for a little while."
"Can do!" Che gave an evil chuckle. "After all, two teens can't get up to much in the back seat of a car!"
Dipper was thinking he had never actually had his hand on Wendy's bare neck before. It was smooth and warm under his palm Only—?
—Mm, what do you want to know, Dip?
Wendy, this is an intimate question, I know, but—well, forget it, I'm sorry.
—Dude, we've fought monsters together. We've seen each other naked! I got, like, nothing to hide. Fire away.
OK. This is awkward—I think your new haircut's really cute, I don't mean anything—
—Dip, I know, dude! When I went into my night class yesterday, two guys hit on me! Come on, spill it!
Dipper swallowed. OK. I admire you for cutting your hair for such a great cause. I think you're still the most beautiful girl I know. You still get me—you know, all excited, and I love you. But, really—OK, here it comes—when we go monster-hunting next summer, where are you gonna hide your axe?
It is a strange sensation when a girl who is kissing you bursts into giggles while her tongue is actually touching yours. Strange—but also nice.
Yeah, very nice.
The End