Dipper left Northwest Fest without his complementary gift basket. Pacifica decides to bring it to him.
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Gift Basket
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Pacifica walked up the long dirt driveway to the Mystery Shack. She'd told her chauffeur to drop her off on this side of town, then traveled the rest of the way on foot so he wouldn't see where she was going. It wasn't that she was afraid of disobeying her parents anymore, she just figured they didn't need to know her plans.
The property was as shabby as ever, but the girl tried to ignore her surroundings. That was something the old Pacifica would care about, this was the new Pacifica. As soon as she knocked on the door, light footsteps ran towards her and Mabel answered.
The brunette's face fell, but only for a moment, and she said, "Hey Pacifica! What are you doing here?"
"Oh, um. Hi." The heiress looked bashful. "Is Dipper around?"
Mabel's grin turned sly, and she wiggled her eyebrows, "Oh, he might be around here somewhere. What did you want to talk to him about?"
Clearing her throat, Pacifica replied with the explanation she'd practiced on the way over, "After the party, I noticed that Dipper left without taking one of the gift baskets. Out of all the guests, he certainly deserved one the most."
A family of small birds ran between the preteens' feet and into the bushes.
"I took the quail out." The blonde continued. "I hope that's okay."
"Yeah, that's probably for the best." Mabel answered. "Gruncle Stan said if I brought any more animals into the house, he'd start eating them."
Pacifica couldn't think of anything nice to say in response to that, so she didn't say anything at all (thank you Sesame Street).
"Dipper's out back doing some chores." Mabel put her arm around the other girl's shoulders, and walked her inside. "I'll take you to him."
At the rear of the house, Dipper was chopping wood for Stan. The boy didn't mind the work as much as he used to (largely because he'd learned his uncle's motivation for assigning him hard labor), in fact, he was almost beginning to enjoy it. The tween was now able to split a log with only one or two strikes. He was disappointed that he was still as scrawny and noodly as ever, but he could definitely feel himself getting stronger.
Mabel guided her new non-enemy out the door and onto the musty couch standing on the porch, "We probably shouldn't bother him till he's done."
Pacifica nodded in silence, her eyes locked on the boy in the yard.
"You wanna soda or something?" The besweatered girl asked.
"No, thank you." For some reason, Pacifica's stomach had started to feel weird. It was probably best not to exacerbate it.
"Hot today, isn't it?" Mabel said, noticing her guest's reddened cheeks with a smirk.
"Yes. Hot." The blonde shifted uncomfortably, while Mabel handed her a Mystery Shack pamphlet to fan herself with.
An idea struck the brunette. Stifling a giggle with her sleeve, she asked, "Hey, wanna see something neat?"
Walking to the other end of the porch, the girl waited for her brother to put down his ax. As he leaned over to collect the split wood, she yelled, "Hey Dipper!"
"What?" The boy asked, not looking back.
"Are you gonna do laundry tonight?"
Dipper sighed, then said, "I wasn't planning to, no."
His twin put her hands on her hips, and said in her most authoritative tone, "Then at least take your shirt off so you don't stink up our room with your sweaty clothes!"
The boy grumbled, but complied. Pulling off his shirt, he tossed it next to his already discarded vest and cap. Mabel smiled and sat back down. Embarrass brother: Check. Bewilder Pacifica: Check.
The Northwest heiress couldn't understand what was wrong with her. Sure, the summer weather could explain the heat rising to her face. And maybe breakfast hadn't agreed with her, provoking the strange feeling in her stomach. But why was her heart pounding so hard? Why couldn't she take her eyes off Dipper? And why had everything gotten worse after the boy took his shirt off?
Okay. Let's try to break things down rationally. There was Dipper. Topless. A thin sheen of sweat covering his slim frame. Accentuating his wiry muscles with every swing of the ax. The ax! That's it! She was worried about him hurting himself. That's what friends did, right? Worry about each other? Or, maybe it was the ax itself. She'd nearly been killed be a vengeful lumber-ghost, after all. It would be natural to develop a fear of woodworking equipment. Right?
Okay. That explains the racing heart. But why was she still looking at the boy? Was it because he was her friend? Yes! That must be it. He was the first real friend she had. Tiffany and Tiffany didn't count. They were toadies at best, not friends. Okay. That made sense: Summer, food poisoning, fear of axes, friendship. Nothing to worry about.
Wendy walked out of the Shack, sipping a can of Pitt, "Hey Mabes, what's up?"
"I'm just out here keeping Pacifica company while she ogles my brother." Mabel answered.
The redhead looked at the other girl on the couch, "Dang Dip, good job."
Peering across the yard, Wendy waited for Dipper to drive his ax into the chopping block. With two fingers in her mouth, the older girl let out a shrill wolf whistle, "Woo! Chop that wood boy!"
Dipper dropped the firewood he was gathering, turning to see the three girls watching him. Stumbling over his own feet, he tried to grab his shirt. Dressing while lying flat in the dirt, the boy stood up and said, "Hey. S'up?"
Mabel fell off the couch laughing.
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