Fifteen
(August 31, 2014)
From the Journals of Dipper Pines: Sunday, August 31, 2:30 PM. Mabel and I have just had our fifteenth birthday party. Fifteen. Halfway between being a kid and an adult, I guess. Though technically, most ways we'll be adults at eighteen.
In California, eighteen is the age of majority. That means that Mabel and I would be able to apply for a driver's license even if we don't take driver's ed. Oh, we will take it, and I'll get my learner's permit (and Mabel will sure get hers) when we turn sixteen, but at eighteen, you can drive without ever learning how, because you're an adult!
Also, we'll be able to vote. Mabel says she's also going to form the Trembley Party to advance her goal of legalizing everything. I shudder to think. I mean, it COULD get traction! This is California we're talking about.
Let's see. We can't drink alcohol legally. That will still be for those who are 21 in California. However, I don't think that would bother me. Wendy has admitted that she has a very occasional beer, but only when she's home and when she's not planning to drive. She says about four times a year she just needs to wind down, and it helps. I should admit I tasted Grunkle Stan's beer just once. Yeck. I . . . don't think it will tempt me.
Oh, hey, at eighteen I could be a notary public!
And . . . we can legally get married. Not to each other, I mean! Not Mabel and me! But Wendy and I can get married legally the day I turn eighteen. Well, by California law, we could right now, for that matter, but it would take our parents' consent plus a court order. And we couldn't get either one, probably.
So . . . three years from today. Such a long time. Such a big step.
It's about twenty minutes to three now. Tomorrow, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are going to drive us to the airport at three o'clock, and we get to fly back to California. Twenty-four hours until we say goodbye to the Falls again.
Mabel has decided not to even try to take Widdles with her. Widdles is growing fast, and we had neighbors complaining the year she kept Waddles. Anyway, Widdles and Waddles are companions as well as dad and daughter and she can't bear to separate them. Then, too, Mabel still loves them—but she's a little more mature and can live with just seeing them now and again, I guess.
Soos has already told us he demands we come back next summer. And we sure will. I don't know if Mom and Dad are planning any big trips then, but we can be persuasive, and they really like how we come back all pumped up and energized and everything. Plus, Ford impresses them and Stanley charms them. I don't foresee any obstacle to our returning for a fourth summer.
Oh, hey, Ford and I have worked together on another scientific paper! This one is about paradimensionality, and I helped with the math, finding two very tiny errors—which impressed Ford, because he said it was grad-level calculus. I also proofread it and suggested a few changes to clarify things like the way physical laws vary between dimensions. Because of that, he's listing me as co-writer this time! Writing about math reminds me, I got a letter from Mom—she almost never emails—a couple of weeks ago: by taking the challenge exams last spring, I have exempted with credit trig and pre-calc in high school, and I can take some special advanced math courses this coming school year—I asked Mom to let the school know I want to go for calculus, and I think I've got it, but I'll find out when I get home. School. Track again. Still JV, but I'll need to get back into sprint training!
OK, what else? Two things come to mind. Yesterday, alone, I went out to the Bill Cipher effigy and had just a short talk with him in the Mindscape. He's grown some—still a long, long way from full size—and he's changed, emotionally, I guess? Anyway, he admitted he'd miss our visits.
And then he said something that still puzzles me: "If I'm not here next summer, Pine Tree, don't look too hard for me. I'll find you."
I asked what he meant. "You wouldn't understand it," he told me. "You know what an axolotl is?"
"A Mexican salamander," I told him. "They're almost extinct in the wild now. They never get fully into the adult stage."
"It's also a force," Bill said. "A force that I once appealed to when I was in a tough spot. But when the axolotl grants you a request, there's a charge for it. It's worse than your Grunkle Stan! The payment's always greater than you thought it would be."
"What payment?"
"Well—let's just say that the next time you see me, I might be a little unfamiliar to you. Leave it at that. But I'll make myself known, Pine Tree! I may need some lessons in very strange things like kindness and empathy. Something inside me tells me you could be a pretty fair teacher."
Something inside him must mean the few molecules of me he picked up when we fought the Horroracle. Bill would not confirm or deny. And he wouldn't say anything else, so—that's a thing, I guess.
Second thing is hard to write about. When I started back to the Shack, I found Mabel sitting on the ground crying, a few feet away from the Bottomless Pit. I helped her up, and she hugged me and couldn't stop sobbing for a few minutes. Then she told me what had happened.
She was out saying her goodbyes to Waddles and Widdles when a little animal came out of the woods and sat there silently watching her. She noticed it and left the pigs and carefully walked over. It was a hundred feet away or so at first, but it just sat there and waited for her to approach.
The animal was . . . a red fox pup. Just a little one. Its mom and dad were sitting in the shade of the woods.
Mabel sank to her knees, and the little baby fox came over to her and nuzzled her. She picked it up and hugged it. Then she set it down, and slowly, with backward glances, it walked to its parents. Who bowed to her. And then all three of them vanished into the forest.
"I know it was Russ," Mabel said in a broken voice. "He's come back to say goodbye. But now he'll be a fox forever, with no human form. Oh, Dipper!"
I walked her back to the Shack, and all yesterday evening she was sad. This morning she's been working in the Shack with Teek, and she's perked up a little. I feel bad for having misjudged Russ so much back in June. He was one of the good guys. I wish I'd understood that then.
Well, tomorrow is Labor Day, and Soos is giving Wendy the afternoon off. As soon as she's off duty, she and I are going for lunch and a last face-to-face before the long months of separation. Mabel and I get another long Christmas break this year—there's a whole ten days after Christmas until school starts on the fifth.
I'm so hoping we can get Mom and Dad to let us come back then. Wendy says she's graduated from Apocalypse Training, so she'll be around at Christmas time. She's even taught her brothers how to cook rudimentary food, so her dad won't insist that she go on the trip just for that, and she'll be available. For friendship, I mean, getting together and having fun. And I know Mabel will want to see Teek.
So—maybe ten days at Christmas, and then back for the summer in June!
I'm already excited about that.
And incredibly sad about having to leave the Shack, and our Grunkles, and the Ramirezes, and Gravity Falls, and . . . and Wendy, for such a long time. It's three o'clock right now. Gonna go downstairs and put in some time on the cash register so I can talk to my Lumberjack Girl.
The next day, Monday, Dipper and Wendy had their early lunch, a picnic in the bonfire clearing. They hardly ate anything, but sat, hugged, kissed, and talked. Dipper asked her, "Will you ride over to Portland with us? It's nearly time for us to leave."
"Oh, sure," she said, sitting right against him on the log. "Gotta see you off, man!" She sighed. "I'm gonna miss you crazy bad, Dipper."
"Same here," he said. "I feel so funny today."
"Funny how?" she asked.
"I'm fifteen. I'm the same age you were when we first met."
"Yeah, dude, time marches on."
"Split this sandwich?" Dipper asked. "We should eat something."
It didn't take them long to finish half a sandwich each, and then Wendy took a sip of soda. "Where's Mabel?"
"Off with T.K. She's making him pledge to face-chat with her every day. And I suppose they're getting in a lot of last-minute smooching."
"That's what I'd do if I were still her age," Wendy said with a chuckle. Then, thoughtfully, she added, "Dipper, let me straight-out ask you—am I much changed from back then?"
He smiled at her. "In some ways you are. I mean, look at you, all responsible and the Assistant Manager of the Shack now! And driving your own car and pulling down A's in school!"
"Yeah," she said ruefully. "And not runnin' around with my old crowd so much. And not having near as much fun gettin' into mischief." She shrugged. "But I gotta say, being with you and Mabel more than makes up for that. We have some amazing times together! Lots of scary stuff went down over the summer, didn't it?"
"Yeah," Dipper admitted. "But we got through it all. And it made us closer, right?"
"Sure did," she agreed. "We have this, like, amazing telepathy thing going on when we touch skin to skin. I've never felt so close to anybody as I do to you. Plus, I got a cool belly-button ring out of the deal!"
Dipper laughed. "Your dad still doesn't know?"
"No, and he won't," Wendy said firmly. "He missed all the talk about the two of us, and he's not gonna find out by seeing the ring! No bare-midriff outfits from now on. And no bikinis! Tambry's already got us in so much trouble around town by thinking it was an engagement ring. But I think that's kinda blown over. Always new gossip coming down the pike. Now it's Thompson and Vanilla who're the hot item!"
"Good for Thompson! And he's a nice guy under it all, and Vanilla's as lucky as he is." Dipper cleared his throat and added, "So . . . you're going to hang out with—what was his name?"
"Devlin," Wendy said. "He's an interesting guy, my age, gonna be a senior this fall, real smart, wants to be a doctor, very solid and dependable." Then, sounding just a little sad, she added, "And he's secretly gay. I'm the only one who knows, I think. You won't be upset if at school I act like I sort of have a thing for him—just to tamp down the gossip about you and me?"
"No," Dipper said. "Is it a secret because of his parents?"
"Yeah," Wendy said, sounding sadder than ever. "They're very, very against it, you know. So, until he's eighteen and out of school, he doesn't plan to come out to them. After that, it won't matter so much. Except he expects he'll be disinherited or some biz."
"Tough," Dipper said.
"Yeah. And he's not even, you know, active or anything. He just knows his feelings. Anyway, he's awfully lonely, and he won't mind having me to talk to. We're not planning on really dating, you understand. How about you?"
"I won't date anybody, either," Dipper said. "Wendy, about what you asked me before. Some things about you never change, and I hope they never will. You're still so beautiful. You're strong and kind and smart. And you're still the coolest person I know."
"Yeah, I act cool with a lot of help from you and your sister," Wendy said. They snuggled and kissed for a while. "You be good while you're down in Piedmont," she whispered to him. She twitched off his pine-tree cap and replaced it with her trapper's hat. "This is a reminder. Don't you forget our pledge." She clapped the trucker's cap on her own head.
Dipper smiled, adjusting the fur hat. "I'll never forget. You know, with all the scary stuff, there have been so many wonderful moments this past summer—oh, Wendy, I wish we could hold onto them forever!"
She kissed him again and sent him a silent message: I know, man. The more we get to understand each other—
The more I love you, Magic Girl.
Same here, Big Dipper. You keep up with your track team and your book writing and your music, you get me?
I'll have to. If I don't, I'll just go crazy and pine away for you. Have to keep my head busy. I'll probably come back with a whole bunch of sappy songs.
And I will love them, dude.
Then aloud, Dipper asked, "Our dance arrangement still stands?"
"Yeah! Go to parties and dances, man, have a good time. I may or may not go—kinda lost my taste for dancing with anybody but you. However, if the chance comes up and I want to go, I will, and just for fun, I'll dance with a few boys. Nothing serious, though. Trust me."
"Wendy," Dipper said softly, "I will always trust you."
From the Journals of Dipper Pines: September 1. Back in Piedmont, nearly ten PM now, and Mom's after us to turn in because school begins tomorrow. Hard to believe. We had a second fifteenth-birthday party, just us, Mom, and Dad, got some nice presents, and then Dad took us out to Homestead's for dinner, one of the best restaurants in Oakland. Mabel loved the food and we both liked the presents.
But here is the best present of all: Mabel brought up the subjects of return visits to Gravity Falls (on the drive from the airport!), and—Mom and Dad said yes!
We were kind of shocked when they told us they're selling our house here—because they just bought a slightly more upscale place down at the end of the street, on the cul-de-sac, with a bigger yard and all, and Dad says we'll move, like, five hundred yards from here to it, and he and Mom plan to do that between Christmas and New Year's, and they say they can make the transition smoother if we're not in the way (meaning Mabel, I think). So we get to spend ten days at Christmas with our Gravity Falls family and friends! Yay!
And I'd totally forgotten it, but next summer, June 18th will be Mom and Dad's twentieth wedding anniversary, and they're planning a long second honeymoon and all, so—yup, Mabel and I go back for the whole summer to Gravity Falls!
Don't get me wrong. I love home here in Piedmont. A new house will seem strange, though Dad took us down to look it over and take a quick tour through it, and it's got more room and a backyard pool and everything. Mabel and I will have second-floor bedrooms, just like now but bigger, with better closets, and our windows will look out over the back yard. It'll be nice, I know.
Still, Mabel and I grew up in this house and it will be so different when we come back after Christmas to the new one. But like Wendy said, time moves on. Dad got a big promotion at work and is making more money. I think he and Mom may even be talking about adopting another child. She says she misses taking care of a baby or toddler. Anyway, they're happy, and I'm happy for them. And here in Piedmont, overall I'd say I'm just in general happy.
But—Gravity Falls is where I feel most alive. Up in the attic of the old Shack, lying on the bed, a book propped on my knees, a pen between my teeth—and Mabel sprawled out across the room on her old bed, chattering away about something or other, and Soos downstairs being Mr. Mystery, and Wendy, my Magic Girl, running the gift shop and just counting down the hours until she's off work and we can take off on some crazy adventure—
THAT'S when I'm most alive. When I'm with Wendy, I'm happiest. Those moments are what I live for.
And I hope there will be a million more.
(Final entry by Dipper Pines in his Journal 2)