"THIS IS THE LAST STRAW! THIS TIME, YOU KIDS HAVE GONE TOO FAR!"

I am standing in front of my irate and extremely grouchy boss, Stan Pines. Known as the "Man of Mystery," (at least, in our sleepy, little town of Gravity Falls) Stan dedicated his life to his rugged tourist trap called the "Mystery Shack," where he exploits any or all aspects of the paranormal and oddly in order to gain a quick buck.

Unfortunately for me, it is literally the ONLY place where a fifteen year old can find semi-steady employment. Yet, considering I do the bare minimum of what one would call actual work, I'd say it's a halfway decent gig.

However, after tonight's events, I was beginning to doubt that this was going to last much longer…

I glace at the elder figuratively exploding in front of my face. I have seen Stan mad before, but not like this. His usually pasty face was now a deep, beet-red. I continue to listen to his rants:

"I CAN STAND YOU EATING ME OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME…I CAN STAND ALL OF YOUR BABBLING ABOUT MONSTERS AND GHOULS OUT IN THE WOODS, BUT THIS…"

He turns and points at a side paneling of the wooden interior of the Shack using his custom made 8-Ball cane. However, the big difference from any other day is the fact that there is now a Mystery Shack Cart sticking out of it. Literally! As if it is hanging partway in midair. To me, it kinda looks like the Planet Hollywood sign.

Unluckily, it was a cart that I was driving only moments ago…

"THIS…" the enraged senior continues to vent. "THIS IS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!" He turns towards me once more. He bellows, "NOW, WHAT DO YOU THREE HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELVES?!"

As the word, "three," flows from his lips, I look down at the other two "perpetrators" next to me. I can only watch as the two Pines twins tremble at the stern figure snarling at them. Usually, I would try to comfort them, letting them know that Stan's bark was way worse than his bite.

Again, this time around, I wasn't so sure what to think. Suddenly, Dipper, the young boy at my side, (who seemingly appears to be always by my side, for some reason…) tries to reason with his great uncle:

"Grunkle Stan, I'm…" Dipper stops to look up at me. His soft brown eyes meet my dark green ones. But for what reason? Comfort? Support? Either way, I give him a tiny grin and lightly nod my head to show him that for whatever is he about to say next, I'll be right behind him (in the good way, I mean; not a hiding in cowardice kind of way).

"…I mean, we're sorry about the mess, but it really wasn't our fault. You see, Mabel and I were being chased by this huge monster…"

Removing his glasses and pinching his huge pink nose, Stan rudely interrupts the young pre-teen, "…and here we go…" While I can understand Stan's frustration, I think that he should at least give the kid a chance to explain himself. Heck, if anyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, it should be poor Dipper!

Another voice comes from next to me. The high-pitch, yet somewhat nasally voice argues back in defense, "But Grunkle Stan, there really was a monster!" I return my eyes to floor level to see the second Pines twin, Mabel, starting to mount her own defense. She rambles on, wildly flailing her stubby arms to better describe the situation at hand, "…it had glowing, yellow, eyes, and a scary, pointy set of fangs!"

I have to bite my cheeks in order to stop myself from giggling at Mabel's silly expressions. I watch as she stands with her lower jaw extended, revealing a set of jagged teeth, trying to emulate the horrid sight that she had seen earlier that night.

Judging by his expression, I could easily tell that Stan wasn't convinced just yet...However, his expression quickly changes from furious to a more serious tone,

"Ya know…" he starts, rubbing his shoulder, "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to have you two over here for the summer…"

I watch as the light falls from both twins' faces.

"…maybe we should just call the rest of this summer visit off…"

I hear Mabel gasp as Stan finishes his sentence. Using a lower voice than usual, she addresses her great-uncle.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel questions with drops of sadness in her tone, "Are you saying you want Dipper and me to go home?"

Stan stood back silently, with arms crossed. He turned away from the small girl, as if he didn't even acknowledge her question…

Her brother, still frozen in shock, simply stares at the floor. I look at Dipper, thinking to myself, "No! He…I mean…they can't leave just yet!"

I narrow my eyes towards my livid employer. I get that he has EVERY right to be mad, but he doesn't have to break the twins' hearts in order to prove his point. However, this act of simple defiance swiftly places a bulls-eye on my back as he shoots his vision up and sees me staring through him. His anger instantly returns.

"AND YOU, WENDY!" Stan thunders while pointing his cane straight at me. "WHAT'S YOUR ROLE IN ALL OF THIS?!"

Taking a big gulp, I step forward, shielding the wounded twins. I begin to explain my perspective:

"Well, I was driving around the main path from the forest; you know, just finishing my rounds for the night when these two surprised me, literally hopping into the cart besides me. They were screaming about something chasing after them…"

I turned around to see the twins reflecting their sad expressions onto me, following my every word, "while I'm not going to say that it WAS a monster, whatever that was after them was definitely huge – and extremely fast!"

I begin to use my hands to help describe my driving skills. "I put the pedal to the metal, and sped away until we reached the clearing…" I quickly lower my eyes to hide a bit of my embarrassment.

"…that's when I lost control of the cart! We spun out, and hit a bump, and that's how…" I leave my sentence purposely unfinished, choosing to finish my story by gesturing towards the vehicle that noticeably sticks out into the storage room's interior.

Stan immediately lowers his eyes at me, "So, it's YOUR fault…"

Once again, I look back at my cohorts, still shaking in their boots. While I hate being the center of Stan's rage, part of me is glad to take some of the pressure off of the twins.

"Well…yeah, I guess," I finally admit to Stan. I try to make a quick joke to lighten the mood. "Look at this way, Mr. Pines. Now, you have the perfect spot for that drive-thru that you always wanted!" I flash a tooth-filled grin in hopes that my natural charisma kicks in.

The eerie silence stemming from the old man in front of me ensures me that I have failed…miserably. All of a sudden, Stan address me again, using his calmest and non-threatening voice,

"…And I figured you to be "the adult" here…"

I think to myself, "Wow, Stan! Way to rub salt in the wound!" I listen to him once more,

"…however, that crack is the cherry on top…"

Slowly, he walks towards me until we are face-to-face. He begins to yell in my face with such ferocity that his booming voice literally blows my hair back!

"THAT IS IT, LITTLE MISSY! YOU'RE THROUGH! WENDY CORDUROY…YOU'RE FIRED!"

I can hear both Pines twins gasp in shock at the sudden announcement. While I find it shocking that both tweens seemed to be more devastated by my fate rather than their own, I do admit that it was nice to see a sense of "brand loyalty" amongst them.

As Stan walked away, I simply stood frozen in my tracks. Maybe the sensation didn't hit me, yet. Then again, as I admitted earlier, I didn't exactly put my best foot forward when it came to work. The way I figured it, sooner or later, this moment was going to come.

However, it was Stan's next remark that hit a nerve.

He turned around and screamed, "And don't think for a second that your father isn't going to hear about this!"

I could feel my heart jump into my throat and fall down into my feet. Without thinking, I cry out in a panic:

"But…but you can't!"

A sly smile grows over the old coot's face. "Watch me!" he brags. I should be kicking myself right now. In my fear, I easily gave Stan a tell. He now knew that he had me in his clutches.

A wave of nervousness begins to rise throughout my body. My breathing begins to become more and more rapid. The phrase, "What am I going to do?" keeps flashing in my subconscious. Suddenly, my thoughts are broken by gentle tugs on my green plaid flannel shirt. I look down to see two pairs of sympathetic eyes staring up at me.

Mabel is the first to address me, "Wendy, we don't understand…" She takes a moment to look at Dipper, and returns her attention upwards to me. "Why is it so bad if Manly Dan finds out about the accident?"

I lower myself to my knees, so I can meet the duo at eye level. I take a deep breath, remembering that there are sides of me that they don't really have a clue about. I roll my eyes as I stumble to find the proper words:

"Umm…let's say that at times, I'm not exactly the best Wendy that I can be…"

Mabel looks at me with a shocked, wide-eyed expression while Dipper maintains his concerned view. I figured that he already knew better. After all, I would expect that from Dipper…

"There are a LOT of things that I do in which my family doesn't really…uh…approve of. Mostly matters concerning my other friends, and some involving Robbie…

As I mention the name of my boyfriend, I can hear Dipper coughing repeatedly, interrupting my story. I instantly stare daggers at the sarcastic boy, letting him know that this was neither the time nor the place for that.

"Anyways, my dad is kinda tired of the entire ruckus I cause around town, so he threatened that the next time I got caught doing anything that he considered to be stupid…"

The twins stood on edge, listening to every syllable that came out of my mouth.

"…he said that he would ship me off to military school…"

Instantaneously, Dipper sports the same stunned, yet astonished look that his sister previously wore. I turn to see tears forming in Mabel's eyes. To my surprise, the small metal-mouthed girl rushes up and wraps her arms around my mid-section. I can feel her sobbing (messily) on my shoulder. I cradle her small frame in a motherly fashion, in hopes of calming the sniffling girl. I can barely hear her muffled cries, "We're sorry, Wendy…so sorry…we didn't mean to get you in trouble…"

While holding Mabel, I glance up to see how Dipper is doing. Still dumbfounded, he is simply shaking his head back and forth, as if he was silently rejecting this new information. He appears to be deep in thought…but of what exactly?

I close my eyes, reflecting on the moment at hand. I couldn't tell in which I felt worse about: the impending fate that hung over my head, or the fact that these two unnecessarily loyal kids were heartbroken over the situation. They blamed themselves when not one ounce of me would! How could I? After all, this little "experience" was a mere blemish on the long and winding record that was my life.

I open my eyes to see that Dipper's demeanor has vastly changed. His watering, sad eyes were replaced with dark ones that burnt like fire. His sights locked on me, but not in anger. I know this look. The wheels in his head were turning, trying to crank out an idea. The part I admire most about Dipper – the hidden adult locked inside of that small form – was struggling to burst out. This was the same adult-minded-Dipper that had previously saved me from a ghostly encounter at the Dusk2Dawn. Maybe…just maybe, it was attempting to do so yet again…

As if he was violently struck by lightning, I watch Dipper rise up and head back towards Stan, who began to head back out of the room. I guess he isn't one for sentimental moments. Or perhaps he was that bent on sending me to my doom as soon as possible. While continuing to embrace Mabel in my arms, I can overhear Dipper:

"Wait! Wait! Grunkle Stan! If…if we can make enough money to pay for the repairs to the Shack, will you let Wendy off the hook?"

I hear the footsteps stop suddenly. Again, I thought it odd that Dipper would be more concerned over my fate rather than his own. I listen as Stan tries to counter him,

"Oh, really? And how are you going to pull that off? Are you going to go out and find some sort of mystical money tree, or something like that?"

"Umm…umm…"

I can tell by the sound of his voice that Dipper is becoming flustered by this confrontation. I bite my lip and silently cheer him on. I urge in my mind, "C'mon, Dipper! You can do it!" However, I can't decide if I'm hoping he'll succeed for his sake or my own

Dipper springs into action once more, "What if I said that we could put on a show here at the Shack in a few days. Make it a big event! Huge crowds, meaning more people willing to spend money! Heck, I'd guarantee we'll make repair money, and even moreso…"

A small smile begins to spread across my face. I could tell that Dipper almost convinced him…

"…plus, you won't have to lift a finger! We'll do all the advertising, all the setup, and run the entire show. The only thing is left to do is for you to kick back and count the big bucks rolling in…"

My smile widens as I nod my head In agreement. Free money without any work involved? There was NO way that Stan was going to walk away from that

"Alright, kid. You've made your sale…"

"And Wendy?"

"Yeah, yeah…your Wendy's departure is postponed…for now."

As I ponder the label of being "Dipper's Wendy", I watch as two silhouettes displayed against the wall appear to shake hands. I glance down to see Mabel raise her head from my now-soaking-wet shoulder. As she pulls away from me, I notice that a trail of slime now stems across my side.

Mabel, still sniffling, looks back at me in embarrassment. I give a warm smile and shrug my shoulders, "Hey, it's already a green shirt." The pun makes the downtrodden girl giggle, which is something that I definitely need to hear right now.

We both look as once more, footsteps begin to come from the hallway. Dipper appears with his head slightly lowered; a blank expression on his face. You'd think that he'd be a bit more excited by his victory.

"DIPPER!" bursts the petite girl next to me. She races across the room and nearly tackles her brother in a bear hug, making him blush in embarrassment. I stand back and cross my arms, deciding to let the two have a moment uninterrupted. I think to myself about the cute scene before my eyes; of how Dipper tries too hard to act more mature than he really is (since generally, it tends to backfire on the little guy). I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, but something that is really unnecessary; at least in my eyes.

After a few moments, I join in on the celebration. As Mabel sees me coming, she scoots over, leaving behind a closed-eyed, yet deeply redden Dipper. I quickly drop to one knee and take over where Mabel left off, squeezing the little hero (my little hero) who fearlessly went to bat for me. At first, Dipper is unaware of the change, as I feel his noodle arms clinch me back. I turn towards Mabel, who is standing behind me with mouth covered, trying to fight the snickers rising from within. I inaudibly "shush" her with my lips.

All of a sudden, I feel Dipper's arms move slightly. He is noticing the change in "Mabel's" size and shape. I smile as he calls out with eyes still shut,

"Wendy?"

Trying to fight my own case of the giggles, I attempt to keep a straight face as I reply,

"'Sup, dweeb…"

My grin deepens as his eyes shoot open in shock. He looks up in my emerald green eyes with a loss for words. After forcing an awkward moment of silence upon him, I start again,

"Hi, there…"

I watch as Dipper turns yet another shade of red, forcing himself to stutter out a very broken, yet modest, "Hi…"

I lower my eyes at the pre-teen, "Y'know, Dipper. It was very cool of you to do that…"

His face lights up, "Really?!" A moment later, he seemingly gains control of his nervousness, trying a different tone fill of confidence and bravo,

"I mean…no problem…after all, you saved us first. And the last thing I'd want is to see something terrible happen to my Wen…err…."

I raise an eyebrow as he stops himself. Quickly, he motions towards his sister standing next to me.

"…to our Wendy…"

I stop for a second to think about his comment (as well as the one Stan made earlier). Was I being left out of some sort of hidden joke? I push the thought to the back of my mind, as we had more pressing matters at hand.

"Dipper, while I appreciate the save, what exactly are we going to do?"

I watch as the boy bites his lip and turns away from me for a second. The nervousness returns. This probably wasn't going to be good news.

"Uhh…actually….I was going to ask if you girls had any ideas?"

Mabel and I shoot each other a confused look, and quickly turn towards Dipper. He buckles under the pressure.

"Oh, come on, now! There's gotta be something here that can help us out! I mean, Stan has decades of junk back here! We're bound to find an answer!

I look back at Mabel, and simultaneously, we shrug our shoulders in sequence. All three of us quickly disburse and begin to rummage through the ancient wares in the Mystery Shack storage room. As I begrudgingly shift through piles of dust filled garbage, I hear Mabel loudly gasp and call out,

"Hey, you guys! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!"

Dipper and I hurry towards the girl pointing into a corner. Being the brave explorer that he is, Dipper carefully heads alone into the pile of junk. He goes so deep that he literally disappears from my sight. After a few moments without hearing any noise, I become a bit concerned.

"Dipper! Is everything okay?

I receive no response. A sense of nervousness begins to rise in my chest. I have to do something!

Abruptly, the piles of rubble begin to shake violently. I look forward to see something heading our way. I take a deep breath of relief as I see Dipper pushing a huge object into the clearing. It was a really long table with a reddish-orange box attached to the top of it. The whole piece was blanketed with cobwebs and layers of dirt.

After studying it for a few moments, I ask aloud, "So…what exactly is it?"

Mabel pipes in, "It's one of those magic box-thingies…you know; they cut people in half with these things…"

"Ah…" I reply with a hint of interest. I wonder to myself, "What the heck was Stan doing with something like this?"

Dipper rushes next to me and goes into further detail,

"Yeah, you guys wouldn't believe it! There are a WHOLE lot of different devices and contraptions like this!" I can see that he is oddly excited at this discovery. But why?

Dipper looks to see my confusion. He begins to narrate,

"Wendy, don't you see? THIS is the answer we were looking for!" I watch in awe as he turns towards Mabel, using his arms to illustrate his vision in the air,

"We'll create a magic show using Stan's old props! We can get Soos to help us fix this stuff up! Mabel, you can whip up posters for this event...the people of this town will be blown away by a display of real magic!"

Mabel hesitates, "But Dipper, we don't know how to do any of this stuff! We don't know the first thing about magic!"

Determined, Dipper begins to correct his sister, "Ah, but Mabel, we do!"

She gives a confused look back, "We do?!"

Dipper gives a stern look, and for some odd reason, pats his right side of his blue vest. I could see something brown sticking out of it, but I really can't make it out. He repeats himself, "Yes, we do!"

Mabel raises her eyes, "Ohhhhh!"

I think to myself that I'm missing something here. Somewhat tired of this game of "back and forth," I question Dipper,

"Sooo…what's my role in all of this?"

Dipper looks up at me, with a huge smile on his face. "Wendy, you have the most important role of the whole event!"

Engrossed, I raise my eyes at the small mastermind, "Really? And what's that?"

He quickly replies, "You're going to be the Magician's assistant!"

"WHAT?!" I shriek at the boy. "Are you kidding me?!" I look back at the reddish orange box that recently came out of storage. I shudder, thinking about being locked into the structure.

"But Wendy…" Dipper argues back, his proud smile vanishing quickly. "You HAVE to, literally! You're the only one tall enough to fit in these things! Mabel and I are WAY too short!"

I struggle to find the words to talk my way out of this. I see Mabel out of the corner of my eye slowly nodding her head in agreement.

"Great!" I think to myself. "It's now two-against-one!"

Mabel seemed to notice my obvious displeasure at Dipper's idea. Using her sweetest, most innocent voice, she attempted to shine her own light on my situation,

"Well, it definitely beats getting up at the crack of dawn and doing push-ups until infinity…"

That last comment really hit home. The girl by my side probably could have chosen better words, but she was correct. I hate it when that happens!

I switch my vision back and forth to the double set of brown eyes staring up at me. It is only after a few moments that I finally give in...

"Well, I guess that settles it, then!"

Overjoyed, Mabel lets out a high-pitched squeal of glee. She instantly bolts out of the room, already fiendishly plotting towards the future event.

As the reality of the task at hand begins to set in, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see a frowning Dipper staring up at me. Is he as worried as I am?

"Are you okay, Wendy?"

It was like he could tell my extreme discomfort about the situation. Before I can say anything, I feel him squeeze my shoulder.

"I promise, Wendy; everything seems messed up now, but in the end, it'll be okay…"

In gratitude, I offer a brave, yet encouraging smile in which he quickly returns.

"Trust me, won't you? I swear; it'll be okay…"

A few days passed, and everything has been as Dipper planned. Soos worked with Dipper (after hours, as to not incite Stan's wrath) to restore the articles that the young boy that pulled out of storage. They even designed a decent stage outside where the spectacle would take place. Mabel spent her time designing and placing posters all across town as well as in the clearing of the woods. I still can't believe she had everything finished within twenty-four hours!

I helped peddle pre-sells for the event while maintaining my cashier duties at the Shack's gift shop. I really couldn't believe that so many people were actually interested in this thing! Maybe Dipper was right

In the meanwhile, Stan was more quiet than usual. He was true to his word, and left me alone to my own devices. However, I couldn't help shake the feeling that he was secretly watching over the three of us. Was he expecting us to fail?

The night of the event, I arrive at the Mystery Shack a few hours before scheduled. Mabel requested that I'd come early, so we could get ready together. I knock on the "family entrance" of the Shack. A few moments later, the door opens and I let out a surprised gasp!

Mabel stood before me in an adorable tuxedo set-up, complete with bow tie and tiny cuff links. Her long brown hair was perfectly straightened to a fine point. She wore a pair of black sneakers with short white socks in lieu of her regular slip-ons. However, upon looking at me, the young pre-teen's smile vanishes, being quickly replaced by a humungous frown.

"NO!" she cries out in disappointment. The pint-size figure begins to circle around me, analyzing at every angle,

"NONONONONO!"

I raise an eyebrow at the girl's behavior. "Hey, buddy? What's the problem?"

She reaches over and pulls on my flannel. "THIS!" she exclaims. Mabel then tugs on my blue jeans and points at my brown boots, "And THAT! And THESE!"

I continued my confused look, "I'm not following you…"

"WENDY!" the girl chastises me. "You were supposed to be dressed-up for tonight!

I stand back, "Well, this IS dressed-up for me!" I look down at my newly cleaned flannel shirt, my pressed jeans, and my polished lumberjack boots. What more did Mabel expect from me?

Disappointed, Mabel gives herself a face palm. Ironically, the action makes me think of her great uncle. A moment later, she grabs my hand and drags me into the house. She glances up at the clock mounted on the wall. The young female twin turns back to me and proclaims, "Great! We still have time!"

"Time for what, exactly?"

"You'll see!"

A minute or so later, I am led into an area located right near the storage room where the twins had previously found the magic props. Mabel pushes me behind a curtained area. Seconds later, I see an object fly over the curtain. Naturally, I jump up and catch it. I look down to see that I am now holding a long, yet very elegant emerald green dress. Before I have a chance to think, Mabel screams from behind the other side of the curtain:

"Put that on, NOW! We have to hurry!"

I slip off my clothes and slither the green garb over me. I take a second to look down and admire myself. I couldn't tell when was the last time I wore anything this fancy. Once more, Mabel calls out to me,

"Are you decent?"

Still shocked by the actions of the rushing pre-teen, I reply, "Yes, but…"

Without a second thought, the small hand reaches through the curtain and finds mine again. I am yanked towards until we reach a piece that resembles a dentist's chair. I figure that she must have found it amongst the horde that Stan kept. Mabel asks me to sit and "make myself comfortable." I gladly accept, grateful to be given a moment to sit and relax after being rushed around. I look up to the spider webbed covered ceiling and let out a contented sigh.

All of a sudden, I feel the socks being removed from my feet. I look down to see that Mabel is lowering one foot at a time into a tub filled with a milky substance.

"Mabel!" I question. "Just what are you doing down there?"

She answers without even looking, "Everything and anything!" She finally gazes up at me, "They're gonna need time to soak, so in the meantime…"

With incredible energy, the pint-sized pre-teen leaps onto the chair, just barely missing my lap. Before I can react, Mabel snags one of my hands. I struggle to sit up straight in the reclining chair. I can barely make out her actions. Finally, after several seconds of maneuvering my neck around, I am able to get a clear view.

Using remarkable speed and dexterity, the older Pines twin is painting my fingernails. She replaces my flesh-colored ones with a shade of sparkly emerald green. Eerily enough, the darken tone seems to match the elegant dress that Mabel forced me to don. I watch in astonishment as the young girl uses her almost-ninja-like skills to hop to the other side of the chair, quickly securing my other hand. As I began to feel Mabel work on the second set of nails, I bring the finished hand close to my face, admiring the handiwork. Suddenly, she turns to me without stopping her progress,

"Careful! They're not dry yet! Blow on them!"

Not wanting to anger the adolescent that had literally tossed me around for the last half-hour, I obediently nod and begin to dry the wet paint. A few moments later, Mabel dives from the chair's arm back onto the ground, leaving behind another perfectly manicured hand.

As I alternate attempting to dry both hands, I think about how while this "bossy" side of Mabel shocks me, I'll be the first to admit, I kind of DID like the feeling of being pampered; even if it was in fast forward. It's just something that I don't really get a chance to experience…girl-wise.

My thoughts are abruptly interrupted as I sense two tiny hands clasp around my ankle. My view moves downward as I see Mabel lifting a soaking-wet foot from the murky tub. She analyzes it with a quiet "Hmmm…"

Her brown eyes meet mine looking at her inquisitively. Mabel explains, "They're not too 'prune-y'…" I can feel her grip tighten as I watch the plucky tween reach down for a tiny, yet very hard-looking brush. As Mabel holds it beneath the bottom of my foot, I attempt to stop her, immediately knowing what was coming next:

"WAIT, MABEL! DON'T!"

I scrunch my face as the bristles scrap against my sensitive skin. I nearly buck out of the chair, almost kicking poor Mabel in the head. Not being deterred, a metal-braced smile forms on her cute pie-face.

"Oh? A squirmer, eh? I'll fix that!"

Before I can react, Mabel dives towards both of my pale feet, trapping them in an arm lock. I can only see her backside now. All at once, a multitude of sensations flow throughout my body. They range from horribly, super ticklish to intensive, prickly pain, as the brushes explore my soles. Fighting to maintain my composure, I attempt to reach for the somewhat stubborn twelve year old torturing me when at the last second, she turns in my direction, (as if she knew I was coming…)

"Don't YOU dare!" she commands me with a sharp, stern look in her eyes. "I don't have time to fix your nails if you mess them up! Now, sit back and try to relax! We're almost done!"

Sitting back in defeat, I stare at the girl as she returns to the task at hand. I do what I can to fight the feelings making my body spasm involuntarily. I close my eyes to avoid seeing the world's most antagonistic pedicurist in action. I bite my bottom lip to stop the giggles and chuckles struggling to escape from my chest and lungs. I grip the sides of the chair (minding Mabel's warning about using my nails) to attempt in maintaining some control over my flailing body.

After an eternity passes, I feel both feet gently placed on the bottom rim of the chair. The cold metal sends a chill up my spine. I shortly sense something fidgeting at the tips of my toes. I open my eyes to that Mabel had placed toe separators on each foot, once again using her cunning swiftness to coat my nails in the same emerald green as before.

I wonder about the reason behind the color. Don't get me wrong; I LOVE green, but why was Mabel so bent on using it over and over again? There has to be a reason, right?

Mabel shortly stands and addresses me, "BRB!" then dashes down the hall. I look down to see ten reflective sparkling green lights shining back at me. I shrug the dividers off my feet. Again, I have to admit that the kid did flawless work, considering the rush that she was in. Yet, I think to myself, this was insane! I am already exhausted, and the show didn't even start yet!

Moments later, I hear the pitter-patter of tiny sneakered feet. I raise my head to see Mabel heading in my direction, carrying a huge box that was nearly twice her size!

I raise an eyebrow to the young girl's intentions. What was she up to now?!

She carelessly throws the box on the ground, and pulls the top open. Mabel is moving so fast that I can barely keep up. I see her grab a huge metal object from the box, and sprint towards the electrical outlet behind my chair. She races back and pulls a smaller, white case out of the giant container. Mabel picks at several objects and once more, bounds into the chair besides me.

Standing face-to-face with me, Mabel pulls her hand back. I happen to notice a giant powder puff in her grasp. She looks down at me with a warning, "Deep breath, now!"

"Wait-a-sec…"

I am helpless as the hyper-active child repeatedly strikes my face with the cushion. I let out a series of coughs due to Mabel catching me off guard. Before I can fully recover, she uses her small fingers to literally shut my eyes. I can hear the squeaky, high-pitched voice inches from my face bark more orders:

"Try to keep your eyes closed, Wendy! I'll go as fast as I can!"

I can feel brushes stroke against my eyelids as well as bristles edge towards my eyelashes. While I do as Mabel asks and keep my eyes shut, I begin to worry. Doing nails is one thing, but actual makeup? While I do trust the twin whom I see as the sweet, wacky little sister I always wanted (coming from the eldest of an all-boy family), I can only hope that I don't end up looking like a circus clown…

"Okay! You can open them now!"

I open my eyes to notice; to feel that something had definitely changed. However, I won't know for sure until I find a mirror. Hopefully, that will be before anyone else sees my "new look." I turn to see Mabel standing before me, with bright red lipstick in her hand.

"Wendy, I need you to "pucker" your lips; like this." She gives me an adorable demonstration. Mabel quickly adds to the tutorial, "Just pretend that you're kissing Dip – I mean, Robbie!"

After displaying a sly smile, I extend my lips as requested and a moment later, the young pseudo-beautician spreads the red texture against my flesh. After she finishes, I press my lips together, trying to ensure that the lipstick had been spread evenly.

I glance at the little helper before me, "Okay, 'my captain'…are we done yet?"

Mabel shakes her head at me, "Not yet!" She quickly runs her hand through my thick red hair. "Now, we have to do something about this!"

"What's wrong with my hair?" I quiz the shorten pre-teen.

She flails her hands in the air frantically, "Are you kidding me?" I cry out in pain as she quickly runs a shorten hand through my red locks until she reaches a tangle. "We NEED to do something about this frizzy mess…"

My face changes to a frown as I thought about Mabel's criticisms. I mean, I don't really do the whole "nails" thing since I'm super rough on my hands; plus I'm not really a "barefoot" person (unless I have to be, like my short stint as a lifeguard), but I do pride myself concerning my hair. Even since I was little, I have ALWAYS my hair long. I couldn't even remember the last time I had a haircut. Granted, I left it messy at times, but I'm more of an "au natural" type of girl. I know that Mabel is only trying to help (exactly why I'm not sure of…), but to be honest, she was starting to hit a nerve…

Mabel leaves me for a moment (allowing me to take a well-deserved sigh of relief) only to return with the metal object she was cradling earlier. At close range, I realize that she had plugged in a hair straighter. Before I can react, Mabel steps onto my lap (with steaming device in hand) and immediately starts clamping down on my hair. As I feel the heat nearing my skin, I warn the kid,

"E-easy there, Mabel! You're cutting it kinda close!"

"Oh, relax! Don't be a baby…"

I shrink back, embarrassed of being rebuked by someone half my size. Again, I have to remind myself, "In her own way, she's only trying to help…"

After a few moments of silence, not counting Mabel humming sweetly to herself as she went from place to place around my head, I decide to break the silence. Hopefully, she can answer some of my concerns.

"Hey, Mabel; level with me. Does Dipper really know what he's doing?"

I can feel the girl release my hair for a split second, bringing in a pause of cool relief. She laughs in my ear,

"Wendy…Wendy…Wendy…You know that Dipper loves that supernatural/magical-y stuff, right? If there's anything he can do, it's that stuff!"

She then pushes the issue further in a teasing voice, "You're NOT worried, are you?"

I scoff at Mabel's taunt. "No way! I was just asking!" I give her a deadpan look to add believability to my "little fib." Suddenly, a thought jumps into my mind. This would be a perfect time to try to get some more info from the bubbly stylist before me. I think back to the comments made earlier by Stan and Dipper…

"…besides, I know Dipper well enough to know he wouldn't hurt me intentionally. After all, I am his Wendy…"

I stare straight towards as I can sense Mabel suddenly stopping work on the other side of my head. I beam as the girl gulps. I had her! A split second later, she continues on as I once more feel the heat against the side of my head. With renewed valor, she starts the conversation again, careful to side-step the issue I secretly addressed.

"Yeah, that's Dipper for ya! Super-loyal and everything! Look at it like this, Wendy: in his "line of work," there are some things that are better left a secret…"

I give Mabel a tooth-filled smile, as I nod in approval of her response. I figured already that I wasn't going to get the answer I was looking for. However, her next comment nearly knocked me off the chair…

"Besides, Wendy; that's a WAY better label than 'Private Corduroy…'"

I shoot the sarcastic artist a severe expression as she laughs at her own counter/joke, as if to say, "Touché, short stuff…" However, I think to myself, "That's strike two, kiddo!" She was truly her great-uncle's niece; not hesitant to bust anyone's chops. Regardless, I easily maintain my cool.

"C'mon!" I implore. "Share a secret with me…oh, I know! What's Dipper's real name?"

Once more, I am laughed off by the stubborn twelve year old, whom merely shakes her head.

Finally, I hear the words I have longed to hear:

"And…finished!"

In a blur, Mabel hurdles down to the floor, and turns around to yank me to my feet. I have to lift the emerald dress with my free hand to avoid tripping over myself.

In an instant, the small powerhouse forces me to a stop. Using my hand as a guide, Mabel physically turns me towards a giant mirror nearly as tall as I am.

"Soooo…tell me what you think!"

I am left in awe as I study the girl staring back at me from the mirror. A gorgeous shade of purple eye shadow brings out her bright green eyes. Her styled eye lashes seem to add to the illumination. Her face, especially her dimpled, freckled cheeks, is neatly and evenly powdered throughout. Her lips, surrounding a toothy smile, radiates with a bright red lipstick. Her long, red hair, reaching down her backside, is straightened to perfection. A long and shimmering dress, the same tone as the girl's radiant eyes, covers her slender frame. I reach out to touch the mirror's surface to further confirm my disbelief.

The beautiful stranger in the mirror IS ME!

I notice Mabel at my side again. Still a bit shell-shocked, I glance down at her, trying to remain dry-eyed (can't ruin her hard work after all). I don't have to say a word. I can tell by looking in her eyes that she already knows my thoughts, and more importantly, my gratitude. She reaches for my hand yet again, leading it into the mirror's path.

"You see?" She claims excitedly. "Your fingers and toes match the dress, which also matches your eyes. It all fits! After all, you are going to be the center of attention! You HAVE to be YOUR best!"

I glance down along with Mabel to see my wiggling, emerald-tipped toes sticking out of the edge of the dress dapping against the cold floor. Any and all doubts about the pre-teen have instantly flown out the window, leaving me in a form of regret. The sight brings about another idea to the hyper-active girl's mind. Her hand leaves mine once more, as she runs off, mumbling about "forgetting something…"

I return my attention to my reflection. Looking around to make sure I'm not being watched, I slightly lift the dress, and playfully twirl around on my balls of my feet. I giggle to myself playfully, still in doubt of the "magic" that Mabel had performed. After all, this is a side of me that I really don't reveal to the world quite that often. I wonder what everyone is going to think. Will they think it's not "plain ol' Wendy," but someone totally different? As I ponder such things, I hear Mabel return.

"Sorry for the wait," she apologizes. I feel her hand on my shoulder. "Bend down, please…"

I carefully position myself on one knee, taking extreme account not to catch my dress. To my horror, Mabel starts to choke me! I cry out, "HEY, *GAG* WAIT!"

I raise my hands to my throat to try to stop her, but I shortly realize what was happening as I gaze into the mirror. The tween had wrapped a gorgeous black choker, complete with shiny, golden buckle, around my neck. The nervous lump in my throat swiftly goes back down in a sigh of relief. Looking at my reflection, I begin to see Mabel's intentions. The item did add a touch of class…

Still kneeling, I feel my dress being lifted off my legs. Once more, I can feel tiny hands fidgeting with my bare feet. I turn around, struggling to fight another case of snickers, to see that Mabel was outfitting me with a pair of dark black pumps. I watch as Mabel stands back up with a sense of pride on her face.

"I had to guess what size you wore…hopefully, they won't pinch!"

She rushes back to my side and offers me her hand. I struggle to regain my balance. I turn back to the mirror to see that the high heels have added another three inches to my already-super-tall form. As I continue to admire my dressed up state, a horrifying thought came to mind:

"What was Stan doing with all of these women's clothing?" A shudder travels down my back as I thought of an abandoned corpse lying somewhere, unceremoniously robbed of all its belongings. After all, in Stan's case, anything and everything to make an easy dollar…

Mabel reminds me of the tasks at hand, "C'mon, Wendy! We're gonna be late! Everyone's waiting for us!"

She takes my hand and begins to lead me out of the passage. Involuntarily, my feet slip out from beneath me. "WHOA!" cries Mabel as she helps me regain balance before I hit the hard ground. As she helps me up, she turns to me with a sense of realization.

"Wait…you don't know how to walk in heels, do you?"

I offer a sheepish smirk to the young girl, who simply sighs in disbelief. I'm just not that kind of girl

Not one to be defeated, Mabel tightens her grip on my hand, "Okay, then; quick tutorial…"

She begins to demonstrate my expected movements using her sneakered feet, "It's like this, Wendy! Heel-toe…heel-toe…heel-toe..."

I follow her instructions, taking baby steps to avoid stumbling. So far, so good. After all, I couldn't let the twins down; not after all of the hard work that they put into this night. The last thing that I was going to let stop me were a pair of weak arches!

As we head towards the stage, still hand in hand, I repeat Mabel's mantra to myself to avoid falling, "Heel-toe, heel-toe…" A squeaky, pre-pubescent voice cries out in worry:

"Where have you been?! It's almost show-time, and…"

I turn to my side to see a completely paralyzed Dipper stuck in place. He is dressed in the exact same outfit as his twin sister: black tuxedo, bow-tie, and matching gym shoes. His short brown hair is neatly combed and slicked back. I'd tell him that he reminds me of a younger version of his grand-uncle, but then again, I didn't want to break the kid's heart. His mouth was frozen in an "O" shape. I chortle at the young boy staring at me starstruck. I guess I was right about people seeing me in a new light.

However, the look he gave off seemed to tell a different story. Not only were there senses of astonishment and wonder in his dark brown eyes, but a hint of shock as well. It was almost as if he had seen a ghost (or something like that…)

I see Mabel leave my side to go rejoin her brother. I smile at the twin magicians, especially the still mystified Dipper. Even when he attempts to act super-serious, he usually ends up being incredibly adorable instead (much to his dismay). I watch, still trying not to stumble over my own two feet, as the twins quietly whisper back and forth to one another. I can only make out a cryptic message from Mabel:

"…it's like In your dream, right?"

Dipper's trance is broken as he realizes I had heard that last part. He gently elbows his sister, "MABEL! SHHHH!" I hide my laughs, trying not to embarrass the pre-teen any further. Gathering his courage, Dipper finally approaches me.

"Wow…just wow, Wendy!" Dipper looks me over from head to toe. "I don't even know what to say…"

I grin at the nerve-wrecked boy, reaching over to give him a celebratory punch in the shoulder, "Thanks, doofus! You clean-up pretty well yourself!" I watch in glee as Dipper's pale cheeks are quickly turned rose-colored. Mabel stands behind her brother, covering her mouth.

As I look over the "gentleman" in front of me, I begin to notice something about him is off. I glance at his styled hair, noticing his shiny, yet blank forehead.

"Dude, what's that about?"

"Huh?!" Dipper gives me a confused look.

"You know…" I begin to motion across my brow to demonstrate, "your Dipper mark-thingie…"

Dipper reaches over in humiliation, trying to shush me. His eyes plead for my silence. He stands on his tip-toes, and whispers to me,

"I had to dress up, too, but I didn't want anyone to see my birthmark…" He turns to his sister, who happily waves back. "So, I had Mabel cover it with makeup…"

I have to stop myself from laughing at the serendipity of things. It turns out that I wasn't the only one who had been tormented by Mabel's "beautification" processes…

"So, please, Wendy…don't say anything about it, please?"

I remember the story he originally told me about the birthmark. The endearing mark for which he was given his trademark nickname. Yet, I remember his recollections of how it brought him nothing but trouble and ridicule. Despite my own feelings on the matter, (or how the story kinda brought us closer together on a personal level) I offer my worried friend a bit of reassurance.

I take my two fingers and make a "zipping" motion across my lips. He happily returns the motion with a smile forming on his face, knowing that his secret was (once again) safe with me.

I offer a hand to each twin, "Come on, guys! They're waiting for us!"

I feel a squeeze on both hands as the twins look up at me admirably. Together, we walk hand-in-hand outside, to where a huge and impatient crowd was awaiting our efforts…