All About It
When the bus comes to a halt in the Californian sunset, Mr. and Mrs. Pines are already waiting there. They rush out of their car in unison, eager to see their children safe and sound.
Neither is an overly anxious parent. In the Pines family, there is little point in frowning over strange things. However, to tell the whole truth, they were starting to get a little worried.
In fact, it is hard not to see the details which are out of place. Their mother's instinct never gets that sort of stuff wrong. Their smiles are the size of a continent, for one – and then, for such affectionate children, even their hugs get just a tad too clingy. Although they seem so sad to have left, they look unreasonably happy to be back.
Does it have anything to do with the fact they are teenagers?
Ah, and there's the pig. They only notice later. Using it, Mabel has the chance to show she also increased the influence of her puppy eyes tenfold. A potential argument immediately becomes a matter to settle later – provided that she keeps Wadels (is it its name?) on her lap, and bathes as soon as she gets home.
They occupy their back seats without a single complaint. If Mabel usually fights for the cleaner window, just to breathe on it and draw smiling faces, she does not say a word this time.
They both fasten their belts right away, to boot. No reminders. Mr. Pines blinks in surprise.
Their small doubts move well into the evening, when the tales of their children's summer fun times get either really lacking o really weird; they spread in the air, thin and suspended, when they try to get the real version of Mabel's delightful stories – we had so much fun reading it, oh, honey! – and they have next to nothing to offer, if not the very same tale.
What do you mean by the real thing, Mom and Dad? Didn't you get my letters?
In the end, it is not that different. Mabel still goes on about summer crushes and new wisdom, and Dipper blushes like there's no tomorrow. She kept a diary – she is a bit reluctant to show it, and that's unexpected, but she will. They seem really happy, all in all. About everything.
But Mrs. Pines catches Dipper's eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling while Mabel and her gross pig snore. (Just for one night.) She walks in quietly, to tuck him in. She takes advantage of the fact she still can – not for long, she is afraid.
Apparently, kids turned teenagers change faster than she had expected.
"Hey. Can I ask you something, sweetheart?"
"Sure, Mom."
"I know your great uncle has always been weird," she whispers. "Dad told me. But… what was he really up to this summer? Is there anything we should know?"
Many things rush beneath his eyes. She can see it. But he gives her a big smile, which is, if still a surprise, pleasant at least.
"Nothing worth telling, Mom."
She nods, content with his reply, and walks away.
That's just the way it is. She will have to get used to it.