And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...
Chapter 1: Enter Dipper Pines.
"All right... try it now!"
Soos understood Dipper despite his friend having a screwdriver between his teeth, and turned the key. The golf cart roared uncharacteristically loud as the new engine started. Dipper had been noticing lately that the stupid little electrical motor in the golf cart had been keeping less of a charge over time. He had had to recharge it more and more frequently until he had finally decided it was time for an upgrade. With a little advice from Old Man McGucket, the new gas engine was fitted and ready.
Dipper slid out from under the golf cart, spit out the screwdriver, and stood with a satisfied smile. "And I think our top speed just went up by about 10 miles an hour."
Soos grinned. "Dude, you must be, like, the best 15 year old golf cart mechanic of all time!"
Wiping his hands clean of oil with an old rag, Dipper returned, "Yeah, forget saving Gravity Falls from a psychotic little kid in a giant robot, I'm putting that on my resume!"
They laughed together as they began cleaning up the garage. Dipper then asked eagerly, "You wanna take her for a spin?"
Soos scratched his head sheepishly. "I'd love to, man, but I promised my Abuelita that I'd be home early tonight. I'm gonna help her cook dinner. You can go ahead without me."
"What?" Dipper jammed his old white and blue cap on his head and crossed his arms. "No way, man. You did practically half the work. Plus, you've been fixing this old thing without me for years. You deserve to be there when we test it. We'll do it another time."
Soos grabbed Dipper in a hold and messed up his hair. "Oh, dude, you're the best, bro!"
Dipper turned off the golf cart and together the two friends closed up their little shop. The sun was just starting to slide behind the treeline, turning the sky above the deep green pines a shining gold. Dipper bade farewell to Soos and stopped to appreciate the scene before heading inside the Mystery Shack. He stopped in the kitchen to nab an apple before heading into the living room. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all gathered around the old TV. Grenda was flipping through the channels seemingly at random, while Candy and Mabel watched the screen as if looking for something. The threesome turned as one as Dipper came in.
"Hiya Dipper!" Mabel greeted her twin, "Where's Soos?"
"He headed home early." Dipper took a bite from his apple and noticed that all three girls were looking him up and down rather intently. Dipper shrugged and spoke through his bite, "What?"
Mabel stood and walked around him in a circle, surveying him from all angles. Then she removed his hat, ("Hey!") and combed through his tousled chestnut hair. Finally she turned to look at her friends with a wide, evil grin.
"No burn marks?" Candy inquired.
Mabel shook her head, still smiling.
"No charred hair?" Grenda asked in disappointment.
Mabel got right in Dipper's face and looked close. "His eyebrows aren't even singed!" she cried triumphantly.
Dipper swiped back his hat and ventured, "So, does anyone want to tell me what's going on?"
Mabel accepted a pair of green bills from her disgruntled friends before responding, "Oh, we took bets on whether or not you'd explode. Candy said you'd blow up, Grenda said you'd just catch fire, and I said you'd be fine."
Dipper shook his head. "You guys are weird." He walked out as Grenda went back to flipping channels and Candy and Mabel's eyes returned to the screen.
"Stan said he'll be back before noon tomorrow!" Mabel called. "He wants you to open the Shack as normal and said to inform you that if you raise the dead while he's gone, he'll hand feed you to them!"
"Got it!" Dipper shouted back on his way upstairs. The rickety old staircase creaked in all the right places as Dipper went up to the attic room. Although they had loved sharing a room before, the room that Dipper and Mabel had shared had become crowded over time, and Dipper had relocated to the second attic chamber. He shut the door behind him and threw his cap onto his bed. Stretching, he made his way to the window. He glared at the red panes shaped to look like an eye in a triangle. "Mark my words, Bill," he said to his window, "I'll be ready when you return." Then Dipper flung the panes apart to reveal once more the glorious sunset. The warm summer breeze was delicious to his skin. He admired the view for a long while.
"How could I ever leave this place?" he thought to himself. "I can't even imagine going back to California. Summer break might end, but I don't want this to end. I belong here. Mabel does to. Who wants to go back to Mom and Dad divorced? What if they try to split us up?"
Dipper came back to reality. "Forget it, man." he scolded himself, "It'll work out."
He left the window open so that his room would begin to smell like the pine forest and turned to the back wall. There were a number of cork-boards hanging there, each covered in photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes mostly written by him. Colored thread linked different pieces of evidence, as well as notes saying things like, ~Tape #15 Interview with victims of The Inconveniencing~ or one of his favorites, ~Tape #42 Accidental footage of the Hide-Behind~. A box of old tapes to his camera were sorted by number. One board was mostly covered in blurry pictures and indistinct shapes, with a few up close shots of mouths full of dagger sharp teeth inches from the camera.
Another was covered in clearer shots of things that held still: blue and pink crystal towers in the middle of the forest, a tyrannosaur trapped in amber, a boulder covered in pulsing green runes, and a tree whose trunk was covered in patterns that resembled screaming human faces.
The third cork-board held the oddest pictures of all; the residents of Gravity Falls. Gruncle Stan, Lazy Susan, Toby Determined, Old Man McGucket, Tad Strange, Gideon Gleeful, (snarling and behind bars,) The Guy with the Woodpecker for a wife, Manly Dan,Preston Northwest, Mrs. McGucket the raccoon, Shmebulock smiling for the camera, and Hans the tiny Dutchman with a golf ball for a head. And lacing from board to board, photograph to sticky note, was a thin red thread that ended pinned to the trunk of a maple strong box sitting on the floor under the evidence boards. Dipper removed a copper key from his pocket, and inserted it into the lock. The box began to hum dangerously and glow red. The boy breathed deep.
"Aperi amicus mitu-serto."
The strongbox returned to normal.
Dipper turned the key. With a click, the box opened. Reaching inside, Dipper removed a thick book with a dark red cover. On the front was a hand with six fingers cut from gold sheet. And written on the palm of the hand was the number three. Dipper closed the box and returned the key to his pocket. Walking back to the window, Dipper sat in his favorite window seat and began to read from the Journal. The sun was setting on another day in Gravity Falls. Glancing at his closet, Dipper was grateful he hadn't needed anything inside. It had been a quiet and peaceful day. No zombies, no dinosaurs, no secret societies or dream demons. A little disappointing, but for the most part, a welcome break from the normal chaos of this life he loved.
Dipper should have known better.
-)&(-
It was dark outside and Dipper had been reading for a few hours when he heard her scream.
"AAAAUUGH! DIPPERGETDOWNHEREITSON!"
Quickly translating Mabel's cry, (Dipper get down here it's on,) he sighed and stuffed the Journal into his jerkin. Grabbing his hat from his bed, he trudged down the stairs. Walking back into the living room, he was about to ask irritably, "What?", in order to communicate how annoyed he was.
He never go the chance, however, as three crazed 15 year old girls can be stronger than they look. Seizing his clothes, they yanked him onto the couch. On the screen was, evidently, what the girls had been looking for all evening. Which was odd, because nobody tuned into Toby Determined on purpose. No one was even sure how he managed to stay on the air at all. It was one mystery of Gravity Falls Dipper had yet to look into.
Trying to escape proved fruitless, (to be fair, Grenda was remarkably strong,) so Dipper watched the screen. Toby Determined looked like he might be wearing a pillowcase, which would be a new low, even for him. He seemed to be standing, oddly enough, in front of Northwest Manor.
"The day has arrived!" He was saying. "The annual Northwest Party is finally here, and even though common folk aren't invited, that won't stop us from camping outside for a peek at the fanciness!"
The camera panned around to show more than a dozen tents set up outside the main gates of the Manor. Grills, picnic tables, lawn chairs, the usual trappings of a harmless civilian mob, strewn around in happy ragtag confusion. Pizza boxes and hot dogs, laundry lines and laughing townsfolk. The sight made Dipper smile, but he was also sad.
"Why does anyone care so much?" he asked his sister.
"Ugh, Dipper, it's only the biggest and fanciest party of the year! Fancy food, fancier boys!"
"Mabel, don't you have any shame?" Dipper talked as he walked into the kitchen and back for a soda. "Any of you? That kind of kowtowing is exactly what the Northwests love." He popped his can and took a swig, stopping to remove the pit. "And who puts peach pits in soda?" he murmured to himself.
Toby Determined came back on the screen. "We'll be here all night! I've been camped out here for nine days, and I haven't showered once!"
The foursome in the living room recoiled in disgust. Apparently, the cameraman was equally disturbed, because the program cut to archive footage of the Northwests on different occasions. There they were, smiling and waving, as though their smiles were gifts to humanity. It was Pioneer Day, and they were all there. Mr. Preston Northwest, with those smug eyes that seemed to be staring straight at Dipper. Mrs. Northwest, with that creepy smile that never changed even a little. And then there was...
The scene changed. Now she was there on her own, smiling the same smile. Waving the same wave. Ms. Gravity falls herself. Dipper ground his teeth. He clenched his fists, crushing the empty Pitt Soda can in his hand.
"Pacifica," he growled.
Mabel noticed his reaction. "Whoa, there, Dipper," she tried to calm him down, "Pacifica's not that bad."
Dipper turned and hurled his soda can into the kitchen. The girls heard the sound of it landing straight in the trashcan. "Mabel, Pacifica Northwest is a stuck up, stereotypical, rotten show off who..."
"Hey." Mabel cut him off. "I fought little demon golf ball people side-by-side with that girl. In case you've forgotten, we're cool."
"Mabel, I don't think getting pizza with her a few times quite covers what a jerk she's been to you." Dipper kept watching the TV screen. "Remember Pioneer Day? Remember the party? When you met her?"
"Dipper, that's in the past!" Mabel countered, as Candy and Grenda got bored with the argument and began discussing the likelihood that the Northwests really had live quail in their gift bags.
"Just because it's in the past doesn't mean I forget it." Dipper turned and headed into the kitchen again. "I'll do the dishes."
Mabel frowned. Something was up with her brother. Since when had he hated Pacifica that much? She started to think about why he would act like that. Really, she had been stuck up, but what had Pacifica really done to him? She forgot about it when Candy and Grenda asked for her take on breaking into the Party, but the question stuck firm to the back of her mind.
Plunging his hands into the near-boiling water, Dipper scrubbed without thinking much of it. He shouldn't have snapped in the living room. Mabel might guess why Pacifica infuriated him so much. He threw a plate into the water. Why was it so hard? He tried so hard to hate her. And for a while he really had hated her. But try as he might, he still couldn't get her out of his head.
Dipper reasoned with himself. "She's beautiful because she's rich. She can afford it. She buys her way through life. Cheating, just like I told Mabel." He hated himself for thinking about her. For admitting in his head that she was beautiful. For...
Dipper looked down and realized he was done with the dishes and scrubbing his left hand. He tossed the brush away and dried his hands. Stupid Northwests. Stupid party. Stupi-
Dipper froze as he looked out the window. There was a gleaming black limousine parked outside the Shack. Apart from the name on the side, there was only one family that could afford a limo in Gravity Falls. And that meant...
Dipper got an evil idea. This would be fun. He slid casually into the living room.
"Seriously Mabel, Pacifica Northwest is the worst." Any minutes now... yes! A knock on the door.
"And that's not just jealousy talking," he continued as he walked to the front door, "I would say that to her face." He hoped desperately Mr. and Mrs. Northwest hadn't come for some reason. He opened the door.
Sure enough, there stood Pacifica, dressed in a brown overcoat and a pink hood, with dark shades on. She opened her mouth to say something. Dipper beat her to it.
"You're the worst." SLAM.
Mabel shrieked. "AAAAAGH! DIPPER!"
"See? Told you." Dipper smiled and headed up the stairs. He didn't want anyone to catch him staring at Pacifica. And he wasn't sure he could stop himself.
Closing his door behind him, he flopped back into the window seat. He wondered why Pacifica was here right before her family's big party. He shook his head. "Stop thinking about her," he murmured to himself. He gazed out his window. The panes were still open, and the dark night smelled like... wait, rain? He looked up and saw clouds rolling in from the East. East wind... wasn't that a bad omen?
His door opened behind him. He kept looking out the window. "I'm not apologizing to her, Mabel." A voice spoke behind him.
"I don't want your apology, Dip."
Dipper started, sitting up and looking around. Pacifica Northwest closed his door behind her.
"I need your help."
