The Noise of Summer

Chapter 7: Trophies

Soos, who because of the schedule and his job as Mr. Mystery had seen only one of the Mystics games, enthusiastically opened up the Mystery Shack for the Saturday afternoon picnic-banquet celebrating the season's end and the two champion teams of the Little Guys League.

Wendy, Mabel, and Dipper helped set up, of course, and both Grunkles showed up to supervise. As they sat on the back porch sofa, watching the kids string streamers and pennants, Ford said, "You know, Stanley, I've been thinking. Gravity Falls really needs a doctor of its own. Oh, it's such a small town that a hospital would be unnecessary, but surely it could do with a clinic."

"Yeah," Stan said. "Good point. Then we wouldn't have to drive half an hour when a kid gets conked in the noggin or stung by a butterfly or some crazy thing. But—I got a date with Sheila startin' tomorrow. She's never been to Vegas, can ya believe it? So why'nt we talk when I get back on Tuesday?"

"Because you'll come back angry after losing a lot of money. You know you never do well when I'm not there to help you with the odds!"

"So tag along. Sheila'll find a friend for you."

"I wouldn't think of—uh, wait, what? You mean a lady friend?"

Stan guffawed. "Yeah, dum-dum! Unless—"

Ford held up a six-fingered hand. "No, no, I'd prefer a lady—I mean—well, it would have to be a woman. I mean, if I decide to go. Maybe. But seriously, Stanley, let's think about a clinic for Gravity Falls."

Stan sighed. "OK. What are you thinkin' for the site?"

Ford shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Was there ever a clinic in town?"

"Nah, not that I know of. Never heard of one, anyways. But the old McCorkle house over on East Street's vacant. You ever been inside it?"

"No. I knew Mrs. McCorkle back when I first came to the Falls. Sort of an eccentric old lady, as I recall, about eighty years old."

"Yep. She passed on about five years after you went down the rabbit hole, and since she had no family, in her will she left her house to the town. They've never figured out anything they could do with it, though, so it's just empty."

Ford took off his glasses and polished them. "I sort of remember it. A fairly big place, as I recall."

"Yeah, I've walked through. It has a big front entrance hall that could be made into a reception area. There's a parlor off to the left of that that might be a doctor's office. Behind that's a dining room that could be an examination room, I suppose. On the other side of the house there are a couple more rooms, and down the hall in the back there's a weird narrow kitchen, an' at the end of the hall there's a bathroom and then what useta be a storage closet. Upstairs there are two more bathrooms and four bedrooms, could be patient rooms. Best of all—when Mrs. McCorkle got old, she had an elevator installed where the storage closet was, so sick people who might have to stay overnight wouldn't have to climb any stairs."

Ford nodded. "That sounds like it might work."

Stan stretched. "Yeah, an' I think the town would be glad to get some use out of the place. The trick would be attractin' a doctor, though. An' prob'ly two nurses, one for day, one for night. They'd have to be what you call special people. Ya gotta admit, this town is apt to have some pretty strange illnesses and injuries."

Mabel and Dipper came over for a cola—it was hotter on Saturday than it had been the day before—and after Dipper had taken them from the vending machine, Stan said, "Hey, guys, ya been workin' hard. Here, take ten bucks each for your trouble."

"Grunkle Stan!" Dipper said, staring at the wad of cash Stan had taken from his pocket. "You said you didn't bet on the games!"

"I didn't!" Stan replied with a grin. "But who do you think was sellin' all those hot dogs an' soft drinks? I cleared a couple thousand on concessions!"

"Oh, you old scapegrace!" Mabel said with a flap of her hand. "You always have an angle!"

"That's nothin', honey," Stan said. He took a little pouch from his shirt pocket and carefully emptied it into a plastic cup. Whatever was in it rattled. "Dipper, pick this up, real careful."

Dipper reached for the red cup and lifted it. "Hey!" he said. "This is heavy!"

"'Bout a pound," Stan said. He took the cup and shook some of its contents into his hand. "Know what these are?"

"Candy?" Mabel asked, craning to see.

"Even sweeter. Gold nuggets!"

Mabel's pupils widened. "Ooh! So—can you eat them?"

Stan laughed. "Not hardly, Pumpkin. The manotaurs pick these up in creek beds and places. They got no real use for them—they call 'em shiny rocks, and they make like teething rings for their babies from them. But they swapped me this many for a case of 144 packs of jerky!"

"You cheated them?" Dipper asked, outraged.

"Nah, I saw that one of the manotaurs had one of these on a leather thong around his neck an' offered him a dozen packs of jerky for it. Next day he came in with all these and said I could have 'em 'cause the other manotaurs wanted jerky, too, so he gave me these and I gave him the case. It was a fair trade."

Ford had a pocket calculator out. "If it's really a pound, it's worth close to $19,000.00!"

"Yep, an' me an' Sheila are gonna go first-class to Vegas an' gamble with about nine thousand of it. The rest of it, I'm savin'. You'll be glad to know that, Poindexter!"

Before Ford could reply, Wendy yelled from the yard: "Hey, Dip, come an' help Soos set up the DJ station!"

"I'm on it!" Dipper called back, and he hurried off.

"I meant to ask him about his arm," Ford said.

"It's very colorful," Mabel told him. "Purple with shades of pink and blue, and when you slug him on it, he yelps. But it's just a bruise. How's Gorney?"

"No bones broken," Ford said. "And no concussion. But he has an extraordinarily purple black eye of which he seems inordinately proud."

"Yeah, boys are like that," Mabel said, sitting on the edge of the porch and kicking her feet as she sipped her soda. "You should've seen him last year, when he was just ten and got eaten alive by a monster."

"What!"

Mabel shrugged. "He got better."

Stan said, "Hey, Pumpkin, your birthday's a week from today. What do ya want?"

With a sigh, Mabel said softly and sadly, "Most of all? I'd like to take Waddles home with me again. Only he's way too big now. But Soos and Melody are gonna take good care of him. I guess I'll see him again next summer."

"Or sooner," Stan said. "I checked out the school calendar for Piedmont, and you an' Dip have a nice long Christmas break. I been thinkin' it'll be easy to persuade your mom an' dad to let you spend a chunk of it in Gravity Falls."

Mabel jumped up and hugged him. "That would be so sweet! That's what I want for my birthday!"

Stan's sneaky grin broadened. "An' if everything works out, Wendy says she wouldn't mind goin' down and drivin' you guys back to keep you from havin' that long bus trip."

Mabel gave a gurgling chuckle. "And that's what Dipper wants!"

Ford said, "You know, last year you wrote and told your folks that you had two Grunkles. They still think that your guardian here is Stanford. We really ought to straighten that out sometime."

"I'm workin' on a cover story, Braniac," Stan said, releasing Mabel from his hug. "Give it time to ripen."

"Hey," Mabel said, "by the way, Wendy told me that her brother won't be able to make it to the banquet this afternoon. Their dad's sent him up to that logging camp. She said they had an urgent need of him up there."

"Well, I'll save a piece of cake for him," Stan growled. "Put it in the freezer for when he comes home to visit."

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The picnic featured burgers and hot dogs (the latter probably surplus from Grunkle Stan's concessions), plus chips, cookies, a few cakes provided by Lazy Susan, and the Pitt's Cola flowed like water. With pits in it. As everyone was sitting on the lawn and eating, Gorney strutted around showing off his black eye. "The doctor says I took it wike a man!" he told them all. "I'm not even twamatized!"

Somewhat to Dipper's surprise, Rudy, the pitcher who had hit both him and Gorney, showed up for the celebration. He hesitated a long time, but then he came over to Gorney. "Hey, man," he said hesitantly, "I'm sorry I beaned you. The coach told me to put you out of the game if I could, but—it was wrong. I shouldn'a done it, man, an'—well, I'm sorry, that's all. Here." He held out a handsome baseball glove. "It's really for the outfield, but I used it pitchin'. I bought it new for the series. I want you to have it, man. You deserve it."

Gorney's good eye lit up. "Weawwy?" He swallowed hard and carefully said, "Really?"

"Yeah," Rudy said. "Nobody'll ever want to play ball with me again, anyway."

Dipper had heard. "That's not true, Rudy. People forget and forgive."

Rudy shrugged. "I won't be eligible for Little Guys next year, anyhow. I'll be fourteen."

"Yeah, so will I. So, since we're getting all mature and junk, want to shake hands?"

"Yeah," Rudy said, and they did. "I apologize for bein' such a jerk, Dipper. Thanks, man."

"We all do stuff we feel sorry for," Dipper said. "Just move on, man. How do you like your new glove, Gorney?"

The eleven-year-old said, "It's gw—great!"

Stan presented little trophies—just plastic ones, but they had each players' name engraved on a small metal strip glued to the bases—to all the players, including Rudy. He had one for Wendy as assistant coach, too, and another for her brother, which she said she would accept on his behalf.

Manly Dan was looming around, repeatedly apologizing to the Mystics and telling the Sequoyahs that next year they'd have a whole different coach. He kept glancing at Wendy, who muttered, "Leave me out of this, Dad."

Owing to a scarcity of girls, they didn't dance, but Soos played some tunes and Mabel hauled out the old karaoke machine. She tried to lure Grunkle Stan into an encore performance of Love Patrol Alpha, but he waved her off. "Call me when there's zombies to sing to," he yelled from the porch. "That's a real head-bangin' audience!"

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Later in the afternoon, Mabel wandered off with Barry. They wound up sitting on the log in the bonfire clearing and smooching a little. He said, "So, I guess you go back home next week, huh?"

"Week from tomorrow," she said. "Uh, Barry—this has all been real nice."

"Yeah, I think so, too," he said, "but—"

"But what?"

He shrugged. "I dunno."

Mabel held his hand. "I think I know. We're gonna be hundreds of miles apart, we're both gonna be in high school, we have our own friends, so it's like, yikes. Barry—it's cool. We're gonna date other people. No hard feelings either way."

Barry huffed out a long-held breath. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, Mabel! I mean, I really like you a lot and all, and it's so much fun hangin' out with you, but—"

"No zing," Mabel said with a little smile.

"Yeah, I guess. Fun, but no zing. But—you will be back next summer?"

"You can count on it."

"Well—see you then?"

"Of course! We're smooch buddies!" And they sealed it with a kiss.

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And on a path through the forest not so far away, Dipper said, "I can't believe that summer's almost over."

Wendy, walking beside him with her arm around his waist, said, "Yeah, it kinda went fast, didn't it?"

"So . . . are we good on the pact?"

Laughing, she shouldered him, making him stagger a little. "You know it, dweeb! Hey, I got a spy, man. Mabel will let me know if you start gettin' serious about any of those high-school chicks! If you do, I'm gonna show up and, like, kidnap you away from them! And believe me, I'm not gonna start gettin' serious 'bout any boy in my class. Maybe later sometime I'll tell you exactly why, but I got my reasons. Just trust me."

"You know, I do?" Dipper said. "I'll always trust you and Mabel. And sometimes great-uncle Ford and occasionally Stan. And I don't even trust myself, so that's saying something."

"I'm gonna be sad, though," Wendy confessed. "Miss you like crazy."

"So am I. Text me at least once every day."

"Hey, you too. And call me if anything happens that's either bad or rad! Any time, man, day or night."

"For real?"

"Yeah, dude."

They came to a stop, forest all around them. Dipper turned to hug her. "If I manage to keep growing," he said, "next summer you won't have to bend over to do this." He reached for her face and gently pulled her in for a lingering kiss.

When it ended, he said, "Funny. I feel—all itchy."

Wendy laughed. "Don't be itchy, man!"

Dipper said, "We're still friends, right, Lumberjack Girl?"

"Besties, Big Dipper," she said solemnly. "Annnd, workin' to see if we can make it into somethin' more."

"I think," Dipper said, "we're kinda on the way."

She answered him the best way possible, with another kiss there, in the forest, with a blue afternoon sky overhead, golden sunlight in the treetops, and about half a dozen Gnomes hiding in the underbrush all around them and softly, but annoyingly, giggling.

The End