Woodstickin' 2016!
(August 17, 2016)
2: Girls on a Run
Wendy had not often been in a car with Mabel at the wheel. Fearless though she was, the redhead hung on as they screeched out of the Mystery Shack drive and onto the road. "Always look both ways, Mabes!" she said.
"I have great peripheral vision!" Mabel said. "I can see through time!"
Turning to look back up toward the Shack, Wendy shook her head. "You know, man, sometimes logging trucks come speeding down the slope back there. Wouldn't be too great to have Helen Wheels smooshed up by one of those suckers."
Mabel laughed. "You been hanging with Brobro all summer. You're even starting to talk like him!"
"Not such a bad thing," Wendy said. "You know, I think Soos was about to tell Teek to take the afternoon off. Why didn't you invite him?"
"Same reason I wouldn't bring Tripper!" Mabel said, honking the horn not at anything, just out of high spirits.
Wendy asked, "You mean he'd be, like, sniffin' everybody's butts and humping their legs?"
"Ha! Yeah! Well, no," Mabel admitted. "Even though sometimes I wish that he—"
Wendy warned, "Girl, be careful what you wish for!"
Mabel made the turn toward town and the mall. "No, no, not that he would act like a dog, but just that Teek would be a little more, you know, demonstrative."
"Keep it private and keep it good for both of you," advised Wendy. "Whoa! Light's turnin'!"
"I can beat it!"
"No, you can't!"
One reason Mr. Pines had selected the used Carino for his kids was that it had a high safety rating. The vivid green car proved that by braking short of the now-red-lighted intersection. With a squeal of rubber on pavement. Cross-traffic was heavy. "Man," Mabel complained, "where'd all these cars come from? This intersection's never this busy!"
"Woodstick," Wendy reminded her, prying her fingers loose from the armrest. "People are already showin' up for it. These guys that are turnin' past us are heading for the campgrounds."
"How'd you know that?" Mabel asked.
"It's my sixth lumberjack sense," Wendy said. "Woo-ooo! Also, if you'll notice, a buncha the cars have tents strapped to their roofs."
"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "You're like my brother. Very keen powers of observation. Think these are musicians? Boy musicians, maybe? Hunky ones?"
"Nah, most of the successful musicians stay at the motel, and the others live outa their vans for the weekend. They don't camp in tents. Light's green."
"Eh, it was worth a shot," Mabel said. One advantage of so much traffic in and around town was that things moved slow, and they got to Gravity Malls without crashing into another vehicle.
"Remember where we parked," Mabel said.
"Uh, in a regular parking slot about fifty feet from be back entrance?" Wendy asked. "It's Wednesday afternoon, Mabes. The Mall's not all that busy."
"Yeah," Mabel agreed, "but sometimes you gotta make a quick getaway, so always remember where you parked. That's the Mabel tip of the day."
Wednesdays were five-percent-off-for-seniors days at the Mall stores, and lots of oldsters went mall-walking for exercise, so except for the sales staffs, the majority of the people they saw inside were sixty or older. "Should've brought Abuelita," Wendy said. "She coulda fronted for us and bought our junk for us and got us the discount."
"Don't think she'd approve of the kind of outfits I got in mind," Mabel said.
"What are you getting me into?" Wendy asked suspiciously.
They stopped into Deep Pocketz, a clothing store that catered to teen girls with their daddy's credit cards in their clutches. Mabel squealed and held up a garment. "This is my size!" she said. "I gotta try it on!"
Wendy gave the halter top a dubious glance. "That won't cover very much of you," she said.
"It'll give Teek a gorgeous view of Happy Valley, though!" Mabel said.
She ducked into the changing room and came out wearing it. It didn't exactly go with her denim skirt, but it was colorful, what there was of it—two small triangles and cordage. "Whattaya think?" Mabel asked, spreading her arms out and pirouetting. "Will this turn Teek's head?"
"I think it'd 'splode his head!" Wendy said. "C'mon, you gotta leave a little bit to the imagination! Besides, where will you stash your grappling hook?"
Mabel's expression changed from impish glee to dismayed shock. "I never thought of that! Seriously, though, don't you think I can pull this off?"
"You wear that among the kinda guys in the crowd at Woodstick, they'll pull it off for you," Wendy said. "Nuh-uh, Mabes." When Mabel still looked undecided, Wendy said, "OK, turn around, let me get the full effect." When the younger girl did, Wendy launched the sneak attack: "Mm, well, I guess, if you got your heart set on it, Mabes. Only thing is—never mind."
"What?" Mabel asked.
"Well, it kinda makes your butt look big."
The halter top went back on the rack.
Still, Wendy understood that a girl wants to show off at a big expensive outdoor party like Woodstick, so she helped steer Mabel to some outfits that were kicky and reasonably sexy without putting all the goods out in plain sight. They found two more modest tops, one rainbow-colored and short sleeved that left the midriff bare, the other a fringed buckskin model with a gold star appliqué sort of above and slightly to the left of the left breast, like a sheriff's badge. It was a little longer than the rainbow one, but it would let Mabel's belly button peek out from among the fringes.
Mabel also bought herself an expensive pair of laddered jeans—Wendy observed, "You're payin' more for the holes than for the material"—and, to complement the fringed top, short buckskin-colored culottes. She added a couple of pairs of sandals, one pair made of red, yellow, and blue striped leather thongs, one woven-leather pair brown. Wendy agreed that those would do nicely.
"Now let's do you!" Mabel said.
"I always wear my hippie-girl outfit—"
Mabel thrust her fist in the air. "Then it's time for a change! Mabel has spoken!"
So they searched for Wendy's outfits, too. She found a Gravity Falls tee shirt, the town's logo printed on the front, the material tie-died in pastels, and cut off and hemmed so it stopped a few inches south of her bust. It was tight, but—"If you got 'em," Mabel said, "flaunt 'em!" Another pair of low-riding laddered jeans for her, plus shoes. "Not gonna wear your boots?" Mabel asked.
"Like you say, time for a change," Wendy told her. "Besides, they get hot when you're out in the sun all day. I was thinking some sandals like yours, maybe."
"Uh-huh," Mabel said with an evil grin. "You wanna wear flats so's Dipper will look a little taller next to you!"
"That has nothing to do with it," Wendy said. "But, yeah, nice thought. He's real close to me now."
"How-w-w-w close?" Mabel teased.
"In height!" Wendy said. "So are you and me, for that matter."
"Let's stand back to back and look in the mirror!"
They did, to the bemusement of some of the other shoppers. "Whattaya think?" Wendy asked.
"You've got like two or three inches on me," Mabel said.
"Yeah, but I'm wearing my boots, see?"
"Huh," Mabel murmured. "I never noticed before, but, yeah, I'm getting to be one of the tallest girls in the Senior class. The basketball girls' team still beats me out, but—huh. Feels kinda nice!"
"'Specially since Teek's a little bit taller than you," Wendy said.
Like a sneaky lawyer cross-examining, Mabel asked in a serious tone, "So you wish Dip was taller?"
Wendy gave her a fond look. "You know a lot about a lot of things, Mabel, but let me tell you, when a girl and a guy are the way Dip and me are about each other, size really doesn't matter—" she broke off. "Dip's right, you've got a mean way of tricking somebody into making weird double entendre statements."
"That's me!" Mabel said with a chortle.
In trying on the new jeans, Wendy noticed something. When she left the fitting room, she said, "These things hug my hips so low that my underwear shows. Guess I'll put them back."
Mabel flourished cash. "No! Way! You buy appropriately low-cut underwear instead!"
They browsed in the underwear department. Mabel held up a pair of brief, tiger-striped panties. "Rrrowrl!"
"Don't think so," Wendy said. "I'm against killing nylon tigers for their hides."
Mabel found the same model in pale solid green, no stripes. "Well . . . ." Wendy said indecisively.
Mabel nudged the older girl. "Come on! Nobody's gonna see 'em!"
"Yeah, if my dad even found them in my drawer, he'd have an aneurysm," Wendy said. "But . . . yeah, I like the jeans. OK, I guess." They made the purchase.
Then on to Guyz 'N Dudz to shop for Dipper. "What is it with stores that end in z?" Mabel asked.
"Dunno. Guess it's a way of avoiding trademark infringement," Wendy said. "Now, remember, we don't want anything that will embarrass him."
Ho, ho. Mabel found a black V-neck tee shirt with two guitar chords printed in white on the chest: A-minor and E-augmented-G-sharp. "Perfect!" she said.
"Are you sure, dude?" Wendy asked.
"Mabel is always sure about everything! Uh, why?"
"Mabes, that's the opening two chords of 'Stairway to Heaven.'"
Mabel gave her a funny look. "It is? How do you know?"
Wendy rolled her eyes. "I dated Robbie Valentine for, like, a month!" she said. "I got sick of hearing that."
"Huh. Well—Dipper won't wear it around our house, so—"
"Why does that matter?"
Mabel shrugged. "Well, I can't read music, so I thought it was just a neat decoration. Has Dip ever played 'Stairway to Heaven' for you?"
"That would be a no," Wendy said.
"Yeah, well, he can't. Not musically, I mean, he's OK, not great, but he's capable of playing it. But this one time when he started it at home, Dad ran upstairs and yelled at him and told him to stop it and never play it again."
"Why?" Wendy asked.
Mabel rolled her eyes. "You'd have to ask Dad. I don't know. It brings back bad memories for him. From college. He won't talk about it. But I think Dip would like the shirt."
Wendy stepped back and looked at it. "Well . . . I guess other songs have those chords in 'em, too. And Dip doesn't have bad memories of it, does he?"
"Except for Dad's getting all psycho that once? Not that I know of."
"OK, get it for him, then."
So they got it for him, along with a dusky deep-green vest to wear over it, unbuttoned, and a green plaid neckerchief for him to wear under it—"Put your brand on him!" Mabel said. And jeans. Tight jeans, with rips at the knee.
"I think these are a little too tight," Wendy said.
"They're stretch denim!" Mabel said. "Go for it! Make my Bro strut his stuff!"
And then footwear.
"Boots?" Wendy asked. "For real?"
"Ankle boots!" Mabel said, holding up a black pair with chrome fastenings. "You in flats, him in boots, you guys will meet in the middle! Perfect! And they're light enough so's even Dip can dance in them!"
"You're sure you know his size?"
"Yeppers! I go shoe shopping with him all the time."
"Well, OK."
After about four hours of shopping, the girls loaded up the trunk of Helen Wheels. They were out of money, but richer by several outfits. And they had just about enough change left over to buy a couple of Freezie Slush drinks, a suicide for Mabel, a cherry cola for Wendy.
There was only one touchy moment on the way back to the Shack, when Mabel got a brief bout of brain freeze, but somehow they made it over the short bridge without scraping the rails. They had to go slowly—the incoming tide of cars for Woodstick was even heavier, and they even got behind a white-and-green VW bus rolling along at fifteen miles per hour, with a mattress strapped to the roof and, sitting on the mattress, a guy in a bag hat, shorts, and sandals, strumming on an acoustic guitar.
"That guy always comes to the festival," Wendy said. "Never seen him perform, though."
"Probably one of those posers who uses the guitar to pick up girls," Mabel said.
They parked in the Shack lot—the sign down next to the road had a board hanging on the hooks beneath it that said, CLOSED FOR WOODSTICK FREE PARKING FOR THE FESTIVAL—and went inside through the family entrance, arms full of bags.
"Let's go up to the attic bathroom!" Mabel said. "More room, and we can check ourselves out in the big mirror on the back of the door!"
Dipper heard them and met them at the top of the stairs. "I see you found some stuff," he said.
"Here, we'll give you your outfit," Mabel told him. They went into the attic bedroom and sorted out the swag. Dipper held the clothes up. "Well—these aren't too bad. Ankle boots, though? Seriously?"
"Just try everything on, Brobro!" Mabel said. "Including the boots! We'll meet you in five minutes!"
The attic bathroom, having been converted from an observatory room that Ford had planned but never finished back when the Shack was first built as his home, was spacious. Mabel got into the rainbow top outfit, while Wendy put on her Gravity Falls tee, jeans, and sandals. She turned, looking in the mirror. "These jeans really ride low," she said.
"They're decent!" Mabel said. "Now we need accessories! Crowns of flowers! Yes! I got tons of silk flowers, I'll run 'em up! What are you staring at, your butt's not too big!"
"Just wanted to see if my heart shows. It doesn't," Wendy said.
"Your what with the which now?" Mabel asked, furrowing her brow.
"Oh, Dip noticed I got like a little birthmark or freckle or some biz in the shape of a tiny Valentine heart on my butt—"
Mabel put her hands to her cheeks, her expression enthralled. "No! Way!"
"Relax, we weren't doin' anything! Anyways, it's low enough so it doesn't show."
"Show me!" Mabel insisted.
Grimacing, Wendy said, "Mabes, that sounds kinda pervy—"
"Come on!"
With a sigh, Wendy pushed the jeans waistband down about two inches. "There, see it?"
"Yeah! That is so cute! But dang it, you couldn't let your jeans swag that low. I mean, I've heard of whale tails, but in Gravity Falls showing that much hip would get you busted, I bet!"
Wendy tugged the jeans back up. "I don't mean to let it show."
"So? Dish, how did Dipper notice it?"
Wendy shook her head. "Never mind. We kept our clothes on, and that's all you need to know. It's personal, Mabes, OK?"
"OK," Mabel said, sounding disappointed.
However, this was a bit of a mystery . . . and she was, after all, one-half of the Mystery Twins.
Mentally she opened a case file. She'd get to the (heh, heh) bottom of this. . . .
