written for .com. Prompt: School

Dipper considered himself lucky. When his great uncle Ford offered him an apprenticeship, he was too young to take it. Now that he was out of high school, he was worried that his parents wouldn't let study with Grunkle Ford, and insist on him going to college. But to Dipper's good fortune, he didn't have to choose. After getting enrolled at a small university on the east coast, he learned that Ford and Stan were currently studying the paranormal in New York City and they were more than happy to take Dipper on as an intern.

He was super excited for his first field assignment. A local bar was experiencing a haunting. Ghosts were becoming something of a specialty for Dipper, so he felt confident. The trio approached the bar and went around back. Ford knocked on the door. The bar owner opened the door. She spoke in a raspy voice. "I take it you guys are the ghost hunters."

Ford introduced himself. "Yes, I'm Stanford Pines." Ford pointed toward Stan. "This is my twin brother Stanley." Ford clasped his hands on Dipper's shoulders. "And this is our great nephew, Dipper. Can you take where the phenomenon is happening?"

Their hostess lead them inside, down the stairs. "There been strange things happening at this bar for years. Odd noises, people find things in different places than they left them, sudden temperature drops. There been stories of course. Shot bartender, waitress hung herself in the ladies room. That sort of thing. No one ever put in serious stock in them of course. But…" She paused. "Things started to change a few months ago. The incidents started to get more frequent and more extreme. Bottles flying into walls, screams that come out of nowhere. It's hurting business."

"I could image," Stan nodded.

"I had no idea what to do. Our newest girl recommended ghost experts and I was desperate enough to try. You guys were the only ones without a film crew. Seems more legitimate to me"

"Could you take us where the haunting is the worst?" Ford asked.

"Well, it's been happening all over the place, but the worst of it been happening here." They reached the basement. She let them in. The room was filled with old posters and cardboard cutouts of ads from decades ago. Stacks of boxes littered the room. And on the farthest wall was what appeared to be claws marks cut deep into it. Dipper set down the equipment they had brought. Ford began to set it up. "This is going to take awhile."

"Define awhile," Stan requested Ford.

"Three hours. Maybe four."

"Holy Moses. I'm going to stretch my legs. We are in a bar but I hate drinking alone. Hey Dipper wanna come? You don't need him right now do you Ford?"

"Not much any of you can do at this point in the process. Have fun. But one beer. I need you sober."

"Um, I'm only 19," Dipper began.

"Oh, it'll be fine. We here on the job! Consider it research." Stan turned to the bar owner.

She shrugged. "It's fine by me."

"Alright, let's go," Stan pulled his stuttering nephew up the stairs.

"Why are bars always so poorly lit?" Dipper wondered aloud as he and Stan came into the bar.

"It makes people what to drink more. Don't really get the psychological behind it but it works."

The two Pines sat down at the bar. The bartender turned. The pixie cut and tattoo on her right shoulder was new, but Dipper recognized the red hair, emerald eyes, and lightly freckled face. "Wendy!"

Her eyes widen in recognition. "Holy shit! Stan? Dipper? Or do you go by Mason now?"

"Still Dipper." He looked at his old friend. It had been about three years since the two had seen each other face to face. "What are you doing in New York? I thought you moved to Portland."

"Yeah, I did, for about a year, but a job opportunity took me east. The job fell through though, but I liked the city so I decided to stay. Sorry I lost touch. I got so wrapped up in my own stuff." Wendy rubbed the back of her head embarressly.

"No, I get it. Life just kind of happens," Dipper told her.

"It's still great to see you again. And actually talking to customers. It's a miracle," Stan chided to his former employee.

"Hardy har har, Stan. So, what brings you guys to New York City?"

"I actually go to university here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Ford and Stan have been study the hauntings here, so he was able to take me on as an intern," Dipper told her. God, it was great to see her again. Her missed her. The sound of her laughter. That sparkle in her eyes. After Wendy moved out of her hometown, they kept in touch less and less. The contacted each other over social media, but his focus on school caused Dipper to log in less. But even besides that, online still wasn't the same as speaking to Wendy face to face. "In fact, we're here to solve your ghost problem."

"Oh, so my boss actually took my advice seriously? Great. I was worried my co-workers thought I was crazy."

"Judging by the basement, ghosts are least crazy explanation."

Wendy turned to Dipper. "Aren't you a little young to be in a bar? It hasn't been that long has it?"

Stan patted Dipper's shoulder. "Your boss let him be here, as thanks for dealing with your ghost problem." He looked at his watch. "I need to check in on Ford. You two have fun catching up." He left the two alone at the bar.

It was now just Dipper and Wendy. "Sorry, for not keeping in touch better," he told her.

"What, dude. You don't need apologize. It's like you said. Life just kinda happens. Besides at least you had a good reason. School I mean. I didn't even try to go to college."

"Hey, who cares? You're one the most capable people I have ever met. You'll be fine college or no." Dipper reached out and gently held Wendy's hand. It filled him with a warm feeling. Dipper no longer had to look up to see her. They could easily stare each other in the eye. "I'm happy to see you again."

Dipper's phone went off. Ford sent a text message requesting his help. As Dipper was in the process of telling Wendy, the whole bar shook and an unearthly shriek came from the basement. Wendy let out a whistle. "Alright, the bar is closed. Everybody out. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here." The s quickly leave the bar. They weren't sure what was happening, but they didn't want any part of it.

The two rushed down to the basement. Wendy had grabbed an ax from the emergency box. She turned to her friend. "Still good at ghost fighting?"

Dipper felt himself grin. "Corduroy, class is in session."