After ten hours, Dipper felt like he was molding into the black leather of his seat. The half-empty Speedy Beaver shuttle was chugging along a bumpy, neverending line of pine trees, making him question if any other plants grew in Oregon. He wouldn't have minded, actually; some fresh pine would be infinitely preferable to the stagnant stench of the bus, a combination of old leather, old carpeting, and perhaps old hidden food. He knew that some of it was coming from the neglected egg sandwich his mom had packed for him and Mabel, which he hoped would still be fresh enough to store in a fridge once they got to Stan's house.
He and his sister had eaten everything else their mother made though, like her homemade fried chicken and steak fries, plus some savory broccoli and cheddar soup and chocolate chip cookies (they'd dug through the cookies before anything else). It wasn't much different from what their mom usually made, but she'd taken extra care to store them in large Tupperware boxes that needed a separate bag altogether. Even as she was casually giving them instructions about getting on and off the shuttle while packing their food, they knew she was worried about them going on this long trip without her or their dad.
Dipper and Mabel certainly didn't hold it against them; the twins often talked to their parents about spending summer vacation away from their home in San Francisco. Just that it'd be nice to go somewhere else other than the Golden Gate Bridge or Chinatown for the sixth year in a row. But when their folks announced that the two would be spending three months with a great uncle they barely knew in a state they'd never stepped foot in… that was certainly a change of pace.
He rummaged through his shorts pocket for his phone again, to look at a photo of a photo. He'd taken it from one of their family albums, a picture marked "Thanksgiving 2010." Most of the immediate Pines family had come to their home for dinner that year, and they were standing in a circle around the soon-to-be cleared feast. Dipper, Mabel, and their parents were at the center with another member: great uncle Stanford Pines, giving a full-toothed grin as he slung an arm around each of the twins' shoulders, while their parents' smiles looked a little too wide to be natural.
The twins had only met their grunkle a handful of times, that Thanksgiving dinner being the last one up until now, almost three years later. Dipper glanced at the window again, and to his surprise, the landscape had changed. They weren't out of the woods, but he now saw some of the hills the trees had blocked, along with a huge waterfall in the distance. He turned to his sister, who was napping with giant, hot pink headphones askew.
"Mabel! You gotta see this," he said, shaking her until she was blinking herself awake. She turned to where he was facing, and soon enough her eyes had blinked away all fatigue to stare at the sight in full wonder.
"Oh my gosh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Do you think we could get Grunkle Stan to take us there?"
"Why not? It's not like we have anything else planned for when we get to Gravity Falls." Before setting off, he and Mabel had typed in the town's name online for some information, but all it had for tourist attractions were a campsite, a pioneer museum and of all things, Stan's Mystery Shack. Whenever their parents mentioned the place, they took care to caution them about how "It's nothing to take too seriously" and (more suspiciously) "It's better not to talk to just anyone who goes there." They added the last statement with how visitors weren't there to play with the shack owner's great niece and nephew, but Dipper had heard enough family rumors about Stan's day job as the proprietor of a tourist trap. He could guess that the clientele was probably not the kind of people their parents wanted Mabel and him to talk to for any extended period of time, and he wondered if they felt some of that uneasiness towards Stan. He and Mabel had tried to call him multiple times about how they were going to live in the Shack, but all they got were curt and rather slurry-sounding voicemails.
Right before they boarded the shuttle though, he did reach them through their dad's cellphone. Stan sounded positively jovial about them coming to visit, and that he had a bedroom prepared for them in the attic. He promised the twins that they were going to have the time of their lives in the Shack, with all the sincerity of a used car salesman.
"C'mon, Dipper, there's gotta be someone we can find to hang out with here," Mabel suggested cheerfully. She put her headphones back in her bright yellow messenger bag, pushing it in between her favorite books, candy wrappers, and various craft supplies. The insides looked like a bottle of glitter exploded, though he guessed that was also his sister's handiwork.
"Mabel, the only kids coming to the Shack are gonna be tourists, probably being dragged there by their parents," Dipper countered.
"Well, you're not gonna make a lot of new friends with that kind of attitude," his sister remarked, her optimism unwavering.
"I have enough friends back home."
"There's no such thing as 'enough friends,' and I get the feeling this summer's gonna prove it, Bro. Not only am I gonna have at least five new friends by the end of August, I'll also have my first boyfriend!" Mabel's brown eyes seemed to outshine any of the cynicism permeating from him, and Dipper wondered if he looked as blissfully giddy when he got excited. He couldn't see anything that great about having friends who lived in a different state, but if anyone had the energy to maintain long-distance relationships, it was probably his sister.
Overhead, a gentle "beep" came from the bus speakers.
"This is Lake Gravity Falls. Next stop, Gravity Falls," the driver droned.
A lake? Was that where the waterfall led to?
Dipper and Mabel looked out the window again as the bus stopped. Whatever lake they could see was covered with yet more pine trees, though there were quite a few people making their way down a dirt path with fishing equipment, iceboxes and what looked like tent poles. They seemed excited, chatting indistinct conversation as kids chased each other and clambered over rocks and picnic tables. Woodpeckers, sparrows and squirrels skittered across the scenery. Everything looked like something out of a camping brochure, and Dipper's heart felt lighter. If nothing else, Gravity Falls looked like a nice place to be stuck in for three months.
As the stubble-faced bus driver hauled out their suitcases from the luggage compartment, Dipper stretched out his arms and looked around the bus stop. They were in the middle of a market district, but the streets seemed rather quiet for a late Friday afternoon. None of the dozen or so people out seemed to notice that there were two thirteen-year-olds stepping out of a charter bus without their parents, and Dipper liked to believe that it must be because they looked like kids, no, teenagers who could handle themselves.
"Dipper! Dipper, Dipper, you gotta come over here and see these!" he heard Mabel squeal from behind. She was standing with knees bent a few feet away from the bus stop, in front of a giant shop window under the sign "Best Bet Pets." Tugging his backpack in place, he followed where she was pointing with a grin that threatened to jump out of her face, though he found he couldn't suppress his own smile.
On display were about six excited puppies, a mix of terriers, retrievers and collies, their lapping tongues and wide, honest eyes begging for love. Dipper wasn't about to coo and make baby noises like his sister currently was, but he did feel a growing urge to pet just one of these little guys. The interior of the shop seemed larger than the more cramped spaces he was used to in the city, and one display caught his sight.
"Mabel, look at that."
Right at the center of the shop was the largest, most decorated insect cage he'd ever seen. It was three feet high, two glass-walled tiers enforced with sturdy dark wood, both laid out with soil and potted plants as three butterflies fluttered here and there on each level. The display seemed pretty superfluous for only six butterflies, but Dipper quickly noted just how large each of the bugs were. And even from far away, he could see their wings glowing a radiant violet under the fluorescent lights.
"You wanna get one?" Mabel asked, her expression genuinely curious.
"What? No, no, I just thought it was weird for a bug cage to be so huge," he explained himself while stealing a glance inside the store.
"It might be because they're some sort of rare species. I don't think I've ever seen purple butterflies before." Dipper nodded his head, taking another good look at the cage.
"Heck, I want one!" Mabel said, her nose and palms pressed against the glass.
"I bet they're expensive, though."
"You two really gonna stand around with your bags out in the open like that?" This third voice was gruff and blunt, a vocal scuff that startled both of the siblings. They turned to see a middle-aged man, his bulbous nose framed with gray stubble and thick horn-rimmed glasses, wearing a black suit that hid his considerable beer gut quite well. Atop his head was a red fez marked by an odd fish symbol.
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel leapt before Stan could respond, clutching him in a hug that seemed to crumple him like tissue, even though he was over twice her size.
"Oof! Agh, good to see you, Mabel honey!" said Stan once Mabel's hug loosened enough for him to catch his breath. "Man, look at you two. Hittin' the big 13 already, eh?"
Dipper smiled. "Already hit it, actually. Do we look it?" he asked with arms folded confidently.
Stan made a low "hmm" of pondering. "Nah, too happy. The pasty skin is a good start, though!" While his grunkle snickered loudly at his own joke, Mabel came over to give Dipper a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Her brother's face made a staunch effort to look neutral.
"So, how've you been, Grunkle Stan?" she asked while the three went over to pick up their luggage.
"Oh, things have been pretty slow, but now that summer's starting, we're gonna have customers swarming by the dozens." Stan made no effort to help as Dipper and Mabel took two suitcases each, and led the twins to his burgundy car parked three feet away. To his credit, he did put the bags in the trunk himself as they boarded the back seat. Once he got on and started up the engine, the clunky vehicle revved to life with Stan's foot slammed against the accelerator.
The car wasn't going too fast, but fast enough that the pet store had disappeared around the corner before Dipper could turn his head. He kept staring out the window as the stores and asphalt streets zoomed by and they headed once again into a pine-lined road, the summer sun lazily drifting westward.
"Geez kid, you wanted a new puppy that bad?" asked Stan. A moment passed before Dipper registered that he was talking to him, and he quickly shook his head.
"No, Grunkle Stan. I, I just liked the bug cage that was inside the store."
"Oh, let me guess: huge glass thing with those giant purple butterflies?" Stan wriggled his fingers in one hand at the word "butterflies," the car now going at a steadier speed down the empty road.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Well, there's a story behind those little buggers, one you can learn all about once we get to the Shack," Stan said with a wink and a toothy half-smile.
"A story? C'mon, Grunkle Stan, can't you tell us now?" asked Mabel, eagerly leaning from her seat.
"Trust me, it'll be better if I tell it with some physical evidence." The twins briefly shared a look at Stan's remark, his words kindling anticipation and curiosity. If their great uncle made a living from being the local carny, one couldn't deny he had the knack for it.