The Last of the Summerween

(June 21, 2014)

1. Disguises

Saturday being Summerween, about as important a holiday as you can get in Gravity Falls (second only to Pioneer Day), the Mystery Shack scheduled an early closing—noon. That would give everyone time to get all set for the big Summerween party that Soos planned to host in the Teen Center downtown.

Grunkle Stan, who had become a talent booker and a concession manager in the past year or so, took a hand, too, commissioning a hot band (Robbie V. and the Tombstones—though with graduations and what-not, the line-up had changed a little and now included Tambry on keyboard and vocals) and contracting to provide the refreshments, for a reasonable price, plus mark-up.

At first, Dipper hadn't been sure about hanging around for the occasion. He had the money for a bus ticket back to California, and part of him wanted to get out of Gravity Falls before he brought unhappiness on anyone else, but—but, face it, Wendy was there, and though she was far from happy, at least they'd been cordial to each other. And he'd run with her in the mornings, and that was fun—but their new no-touch rule was tearing the heart out of him, and he thought she felt pretty bad about it too.

However, he had to admit that Mabel's reveal of the costumes she'd prepared and mostly sewed herself cheered him up. They tried them on in the attic just after lunchtime, and stood side by side in the small upstairs bathroom, looking into the mirror. "It's totally cool!" Dipper said. "Uh—but what are you gonna do about your hair?"

"Watch this!" She produced a hat—not a roomy-looking one—but somehow she bent over and managed to stuff her long hair into it. She straightened up and held out her arms. "Ta-da!"

"It works," Dipper admitted. "Not the right color, but it really works."

"Yeah, it does! And with some colored hair spray a little bit of makeup—"

Dipper held up a shushing finger. "Ah, that would be a no."

Mabel elbowed him. "C'mon, Dipper! It's not, like, girly make-over type make-up! It's stage make-up! Think of yourself as an actor!"

Dipper stared at his reflection. It was true, the costume was very good, but the addition of a few touches of make-up here and there might just—"OK, I guess," he said, sighing.

Mabel did a fist-pump of victory. "Yes! This is gonna be such fun! They're gonna have games an' trivia quizzes, karaoke, an' of course dancing—oh, I'm sorry."

"It's OK," Dipper told her, regretting that his pained expression had given away his inner feelings. "It's OK. Maybe Wendy and I will dance one or two times. If she feels like it."

"If she what? Boseph, don't tell me you made her get mad at you!"

Dipper shrugged. "What can I say? No, not mad, exactly. We're trying to figure this thing out. We've kinda taken a step back from each other. I mean, we're being polite and all, but we're trying not to—oh, it's so weird. I mean, just last Christmas we were even talking about, you know, a future together. Getting married when I'm older and stuff. But that was before I went crazy." He slumped down and sat on the closed toilet lid. "I ruined everything."

"What! You didn't go crazy, stupid!" Mabel said heatedly. "You were sick! You had that buggy creature from beyond the bounds of Time and Space that we know wriggling around in your guts! It made you act like that. And you got rid of it! I saw you hork it up and then it ran away an' got blasted to Kingdom Hearts. Is that right? It doesn't sound right. Kingdom Come, that's what I meant!"

"I don't know," Dipper said, and his spirits fell again. "I'd like to think that having that thing inside me was all that was wrong. But—see, I can't even remember any of that stuff, but you and Wendy tell me I acted like a jerk, and said and did all those awful things—it's like the worst parts of me just came up to the surface and took over. Remember how bad I felt when Wendy and I couldn't get together at spring break?"

"Yeah. You were like 'Oh, no, I've turned all dum-dum an' mean an' I'll be a total jerk and a hermit and never be happy again, blarrggggghhh!' But you got over that!"

"Did I? That's twice in the last few months I've been mad at, at—" He almost choked, but then got the words out: "Mad at Wendy! For no reason. Maybe I can't ever be the guy she wants me to be, the one she deserves. I mean, I went completely off the rails. How do I know that won't happen again?"

Mabel sighed. "I can't answer that, Dipper. Nobody can. Look, the best anybody can do is to try their best, right? You're in love with Wendy, aren't you?"

He looked so sad that his mood reflected in his twin's face. He sighed. "You don't even have to ask."

Mabel sat down, not very elegantly and probably quite uncomfortably, on the edge of the bathtub. "And—well, sure, Wendy's a little older than you and all, but she—and then you're a mature fourteen, you know, older than the years, like a dog or something, 'cept for bein' such a dumb-butt about this kind of thing, and she really, really—OK, let me just say it. She loves you, you big dumbbell! She didn't use to, but she does now! I think she has ever since Christmas. Maybe it even started during Weirdmageddon. She's told me how you an' her an' Soos made a hand-promise to come into that bubble and get me out. And she said that you got pretty banged up in a car crash, but you were even gonna crawl to the bubble if you had to. Dip, you should've seen her eyes when she talked about that! And you and Wendy—you did get me out of the bubble, Dipper! You an' she share something special."

"Yeah. And I broke it," Dipper reminded her.

Mabel waved her arms in frustration. "Wendy wouldn't say that! Look, Dipper, I admit that romance-wise, I made some real bad choices last year, getting over my boy-crazy phase—"

"Say what?" Dipper asked, grinning.

She turned red. "Well, over the worst of it! I mean, I fooled around with that stupid jerk Trey and all, and you totally called it about him, Brobro, and that was like the lowest point of my life when all that hit the fan. But I got over that. I know that you and Wendy—you've got something real, Dip! It'll last. You just got to learn to relax a little. Learn how to trust Wendy, for crying out loud. Trust yourself, too, Dipper! You're way too much on guard against yourself. And she loves that self, so be your self! Am I making sense?"

"Sounds a little like you're quoting from Succeeding in Management 1983."

Mabel looked surprised, an expression that didn't really go with her costume. "Oh, is that where I got it? Huh. Well, that book made me a success, so listen to me, dork!"

"All right, all right," Dipper said. It was easier to give in than to argue. Especially since—he thought—he wouldn't be around Gravity Falls for many more days. "But I'm not gonna dance with anybody else, and Wendy and I might dance just once or twice. She can dance with any guy she wants to, so don't give me—or her—a hard time about that."

"Sheesh!" Mabel said. "Like I ever would! What, do I look like a meddler or something?"

2. A Tricky Treat

At five-thirty, the twins came downstairs for an early dinner—in costume. "Hiya, knuckleheads!" Mabel said in a gravelly voice.

"Manners, Stanley!" Dipper said firmly.

Wendy—who was dressed up as about the most beautiful tousled-haired witch that Dipper could imagine—laughed out loud. "Oh, my God, you guys! That's perfect!"

Mabel, in a black suit, brown shoes, a white shirt, a red ribbon tie and a (hair-stuffed) fez (actually one of Grunkle Stan's old ones), grinned. "How's it hangin', Wendy?"

"Good evening, Miss Corduroy," said Dipper, who was wearing a yellowish-tan trench coat over a mulberry-colored turtleneck crossed with a diagonal black bandolier, along with black trousers and brown boots. And, oh yes, black gloves. Each with six fingers.

Both twins had colored their hair (in Mabel's case, only the hair that showed) with gray, had pasted on bushy gray eyebrows—sideburns, too, in Dipper's case—and had applied gray make-up to their cheeks and chins to get that seven o'clock-shadow effect. They'd added glasses in the appropriate styles and had colored their noses a reddish-orange.

"Dudes!" Soos said when he could stop laughing. "You're, like, mini-Stans!"

Melody had run for her camera. She hustled them into the museum and took their photos against a backdrop of displays—Mabel grinning and brandishing an eight-ball-headed cane, Dipper stroking his chin thoughtfully as he examined the unlikely exhibits.

Fortunately, Abuelita had prepared food that wouldn't muss up their makeup too badly—tacos with all the trimmings. Still, both the twins drank their sodas with straws, something they rarely bothered with.

Dipper kept glancing at Wendy, who looked much more adult than normal—she wore a tight black satin dress with a very low neckline, plus the traditional pointy hat, and she carried an old-fashioned rustic broom, with a crooked sapling for a handle and hand-bound broom straws on the business end. Her hair, startlingly, had become jet-black except for one long white streak.

"You, uh, did you, you know, dye your hair?" Dipper asked.

Wendy shook her head. "Wouldn't do it, dude. This is like you guys used, spray-on color. It washes out. 'Course I had to pay like forty bucks 'cause it took a whole case to do it all! Tambry helped me. How's it look?"

"Really good," Dipper confessed. "You're so sex—" he caught himself and disguised the last word with a coughing fit—"'Scuse me, soda went down wrong. You're so sensational!"

"Good save, dawg!" Soos said. "High five!"

Dipper sighed, and so as not to leave him hanging, he high-fived Soos.

After dinner, Dipper had a moment alone with Wendy. "Look," he said, "if you don't, you know, want to hang with us or—you know, don't want to dance with me or anything, I understand."

"Dude!" Wendy said, giving him a little shove. "This coolin' off thing is your idea, not mine. I'll dance with you every dance if you want."

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "Well—I'd like to dance with you some, anyway."

"Then it's a deal," Wendy said. She sighed. "It almost feels normal tonight, you know? Which is weird for Summerween!"

Abuelita wished all the young ones a good evening. She was staying home to babysit Little Soos and to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Since Stan's day as Mr. Mystery, the Shack tended to attract a lot of them, because Soos bought name-brand candy, not loser candy. And every once in a while, what looked like a wrapped piece of candy might instead turn out to be a prize—a question-mark button, some of the small toys the gift shop sold, or even, now and then, real money.

Of course, it was hard to buy anything with a ten- or twenty-peso Mexican coin, but the kids loved them, especially the ones who assumed they were pirate treasure.

They paused on the porch to light the candles in the two jack-o'-melons, and then Wendy and Mabel drove to the center in Wendy's car. Soos, Melody, and Dipper took the Jeep—Dipper felt self-conscious around Wendy, especially with Mabel doing her couples cheerleading, none too discreetly.

The teen center was already filling up. Soos had made the dance admission free—not even any exit charge, because he said it was good advertising for the Shack, and anyhow it was not that expensive to rent the center. On the bandstand at the far end of the room, Robbie, Tambry, and the other band members were setting up amps and microphones. Grunkle Stan, in red trousers, an open-necked yellow silk shirt, and three or four gold chains with medallions clanking on them, greeted them at the door and almost fell down laughing.

"I gotta get Ford over here!" he said, gasping. He took out his phone and called. Dipper heard him say, "Ford! Get over to the teen center now! No time to explain—it's an emergency!"

He insisted on having his photo taken with Dipper and Mabel, and then when Ford came rushing in, all four of them gathered for the cameras. Then he called Soos—who was an overweight Frankenstein Monster tonight, with Melody as his bride—and Wendy to crowd in, too. Dipper found himself next to Wendy. He fidgeted. "You sure are pretty," he muttered.

"Thanks dude," Wendy said. "You're very—Fordsy!"

Mabel went off to try some of the games and came back in a few minutes holding hands with a very stylish looking vampire in tux and white tie, with slicked-back black hair in a widow's peak and eyes that held a penetrating stare. And fangs, of course.

Dipper didn't even know him at first, but then he said, "T.K.!"

T.K. O'Grady, the short-order cook who now worked at the Shack, peered at him. He spat the slip-on plastic fangs into his hand and said, "Oh, Dipper. Hard to tell who you are without my glasses. I'm really near-sighted, you know. At first I thought Mabel was her uncle, but just far away!"

"Dude," Wendy said with a chuckle, "you sprayed your hair black! I didn't think I left any cans of that stuff in the Summerween Superstore!"

"They still had a few of them." The vampire squinted. "Miss Corduroy! I didn't recognize you, either! You look great!"

"Thanks, Count," Wendy said. "At least, I guess I should thank you. You mean I don't ordinarily look great?"

"Well—that—I—gosh, no—I mean, yes—"

Mabel suddenly tilted her head. Robbie was starting a song—an opening slow dance. "Come on!" she said, dragging the still-stuttering O'Grady onto the dance floor.

"Uh—Wendy, you want to dance?" Dipper asked.

"Sure thing."

They started to dance, and this time Dipper successfully avoided stepping on her feet. "I think you sort of stunned T.K.," he told Wendy.

"He's a cute kid, the way he gets all red an' stammers. You used to be that way. You're a lot more mature now, Dipper. And you dance smoother now, too. I think you've been practicin' behind my back."

"Well, yeah, Mabel sort of gave me a few lessons back in spring," Dipper said. "Also, I think the running may have helped my coordination."

"You know," Wendy said, "you can hold me closer if you want. I'd like that."

He pulled her against him. "This is nice," he said.

"Glad you like it," she murmured in his ear.

Mabel and T.K. danced past. Dipper blinked. "Those two are sure dancing close!"

"Well, so are we, Dip."

"Yeah, but I mean, if T.K. held her any tighter, he'd be in back of her!"

But he gave himself up to the music and her closeness and warmth. In a way he wanted the music to go on forever.

It didn't, of course. Still, they danced nearly every dance together. Mabel soon had a bevy of fellows dancing with her, a different one with every song—she was very popular.

"It's nice," Dipper told Wendy much later in the evening, "that guys don't keep asking you away from me all the time, the way they did last year."

"They know we're a thing," Wendy said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, grinning. "Well, everybody but Soos."

"So," she whispered, are we a thing?"

"I guess we are," Dipper said, his heart sinking. "Wendy—you know I—well, let me say it this one time. I'm in love with you."

"You know what, Dip? I do know it. Do you know I love you, too?"

That melted him completely. "Let—let's go get some air," he said, leading her through the crowd, to the door, and outside.

They walked to the dark side of the building and stood there in a hug, foreheads touching, as though they had stopped in the middle of a dance step and had just forgotten to move again. In the parking lot, a few couples were nuzzling in cars with steamy windows. Dipper said, "Wendy, listen. I don't ever want to hurt you again. Not in any way."

"Oh, Dipper." She took off his Grunkle Ford glasses so she could kiss him. "I understand. That wasn't really you at all. And even after you made me cry, I wanted you back so bad. Dude, I'll tell you flat—I'd move out of my dad's house if you asked me to. Do it tomorrow."

"No, I don't want you to do that," Dipper said. "Manly Dan and your brothers depend on you. I mean, I think they depend too much on you and it's not fair to you—but they're family. Anyway, I know we can't really be together, not in the way I'd like, not yet. I have to finish high school. I've got three more years and a bit to go, and then I'll be eighteen. Can we wait it out that long?"

"Anything you ask me, I'll do," Wendy said. "You know what? I've never told a guy I loved him before. 'Cause I've always been scared to, I guess. And lucky for me I didn't, because sooner or later, they've all disappointed me. But more and more, I'm thinkin' you're the only one. So, yeah, we'll wait it out. But, dude, you better brace yourself for that eighteenth birthday. I'm gonna give you a present you'll always remember."

"Too bad what you'll get in exchange is so dull and ordinary," Dipper said.

She put a finger against his lips to shush him. "Always talkin' yourself down. Don't, Dipper. Mabel said you need confidence. Heck, man, you're a track star! You're a brave guy! You're like smarter than anybody around here! And you've charmed a beautiful witch right into your arms. That counts for something."

"For the world," Dipper said. "It counts for the whole world."

From the Journals of Dipper Pines: Saturday, June 21—almost the 22nd now, because in a few minutes it'll be midnight.

Tonight was Summerween and it was wonderful. I wish it could always be like this.

But—I don't know. After we kissed goodnight, after I watched Wendy drive away from the Shack, I thought how easy it is for me to worry and fret and beat myself up over stupid things. When she danced with Lee that one time tonight, I got a little mad, even though I know they're just friends, and not even so close any more. But still, I had to bite back some harsh words.

Why am I like this? Why can't I be the guy she really deserves?

I'm so afraid of disappointing her.

I have enough money for a bus ticket. All I'd have to do is call the station and tell them I want to reserve a seat for Piedmont, and I'd be out of here. Of course Mom and Dad are off on their vacation and wouldn't be home for another two weeks or so, but I suppose I could survive on what's in the pantry and the freezer.

But I'd be all alone in the house. No Mabel. No Soos and Melody and Abuelita. No T.K., who's turning out to be a really nice guy, if dorky.

Most of all, no Wendy.

Just me. Alone with my dark thoughts. I think I'd go crazy for real.

I'd be miserable, but I'd be out of Wendy's life. She says she'd be miserable, too. I don't know. I really don't know what's best.

I hear Mabel laughing downstairs. She and I won the first prize for the best costume. Ford and Stan are sort of leading citizens in Gravity Falls these days—hard to remember the time when Li'l Gideon turned everybody against Stan! Anyway, the judges and everybody thought our costumes were great.

Midnight now. I have to take off the makeup and shower the spray out of my hair and stop being the smart, courageous Ford and just be plain old Dipper again.

Should I stay or should I go? Why does that sound so doggone familiar? I can't make up my mind.

I hope I can commit soon. One way or the other. This way it isn't fair to anybody, not to Wendy, not to Mabel.

Gotta do it. Gotta make up my mind.

I hope I have sense enough to do what's best.

The End