Home for Christmas
(December 30, 2016-January 1, 2017)
12
As much as the twins cherished the moments, they kept slipping into the past. During their last couple of days in Gravity Falls, they tried to make the most of them.
On Friday evening, Mabel had her sleepover. Paz and Candy came over, and Grenda even face-timed for a while—though, as she reminded them, at ten p.m. in Gravity Falls, it was already seven the next morning in Austria. Mabel immediately began to hatch a plan for Grenda to call her with the results of horse races in California that were still hours away from being run—
Pacifica spent a quarter of an hour explaining why that wouldn't work before realizing Mabel was putting them on. That started the epic pillow fight.
As it raged, Wendy slipped away to spend time with Dipper. They spent a cozy evening and, unlike the girls upstairs, actually got some sleep.
Early the next morning, New Year's Eve, Wendy and Dipper left Candy, Pacifica, and Mabel asleep and drove to Portland in Stan's '65 El Diablo to pick up Stan and Sheila. It was a tribute to Stan's esteem for Wendy that he allowed her to drive it at all. But then she had repaired it several times, for free, and had kept its engine running smooth, so he owed her. Letting her drive it was cheaper than actually paying her.
Wendy timed the drive beautifully. They parked in a short-term slot fifteen minutes before Stan and Sheila's flight from Newark was due to land, stood at baggage claim by the time it touched down, and about twenty minutes after that, Stan and Sheila showed up, both a little red-eyed from the flight. Sheila hugged both Dipper and Wendy, and Stan cheerfully said, "There better not be any new dents in my car!"
They each rolled a carry-on, and Dipper reclaimed their one checked suitcase. "How was your luck at the tables, Stan?" Wendy asked.
Stan shrugged. In a morose tone, he said, "Eh, you win some, you lose some." Then he grinned ear-to-ear. "And on the last day, you win back what you lost and even more! Ha!"
He approved of their not having to pay more than three bucks for parking ("Cover it, Dip, I'll pay you back sometime"), and he asked Wendy to drive them back to Gravity Falls. "You sure?" she asked.
"Yeah, me and Sheila are pooped from getting' up so early, so we'll sit in the back seat and smooch," he said.
"I'm game," Sheila said.
Dipper told them a little about the fight with the werewolves—not all of it, just enough to say that a few of the creatures had come marauding into the Valley after prey and that he, Mabel, and Wendy had sent them all back home. "Good for you," Stan said. "I got nothing against werewolves, mind, if they don't come onto my front yard!"
They arrived in Gravity Falls about half-past noon, and Dipper helped carry the big bag into the house. "Everything looks to be in one piece," Stan said. "Not that I expected different, but Sheila and me always worry on a trip. Did I leave the stove on, or the water running, or will there be Gnomes squattin' in the attic when we get home?"
"Oh," Dipper said. "Almost forgot. I went to the post office yesterday and Mr. Harriman gave me the mail you had them save. It's all on the foyer table."
Stan sat in his recliner and raised the leg rest while kicking off his loafers. "Ahh, do me a favor and bring it, would ya?"
Wendy and Sheila were in the kitchen as Dipper passed. "Hey, Dip!" Wendy called. "Makin' sandwiches. Reuben on light rye OK?"
On the post-office run, they had laid in some supplies for Stan and Sheila, too. "Sounds good, thanks!" Dipper said. He took the stack of mail and magazines back to Stan and sat on the sofa as Stan flicked through it. "Gold Investor. US Traveler, that's Sheila's. Couple Christmas cards. . . huh, a Hanukkah card from Rabbi Lowenstein! He's a nice guy, I'll have to send him a thank-you note. Junk . . . junk . . . junk . . . ." He flicked several envelopes aside.
Dipper fielded one. "Hey, wait. This looks official, Grunkle Stan!"
"Lemme see." Stan held up a heavy-looking envelope and read, "'White House, Washington, DC.' Forget that. I don't contribute to politics, Dip."
"I had to sign for that one when I picked everything up," Dipper said. "At least open it."
"OK, OK." Stan ripped the envelope open, drew out a heavy cream-colored document and unfolded it, muttering as he read: "'The White House, Washington, DC. Memorandum Granting—' huh?" He swallowed hard. "'Granting Pardon to Stanley F. Pines of Gravity Falls, Oregon—' Sweet Sally! '. . .pardoned for all past or present violations . . . not subject to . . . ' Oh, my God!"
"Good news?" Dipper asked.
Sheila came in with a tray of sandwiches, followed by Wendy, carrying a tray of soft drinks. "What is it?" she asked.
Stan said, "And here's his signature! It's not a photocopy, it's in real ink! The President! That means—no statute of limitations to worry about! I can sell the pirate loot that I got when Ford and me—Sheila, baby, we're rich! Er!"
"What are you talking about?" Sheila asked, setting the sandwiches on the coffee table and perching on the arm of his recliner.
Stan showed her the letter. "Somebody put my name up, and the Prez musta not looked too close into things, 'cause as part of his annual pardons, he named me! No more open warrants! We can go to any state we want, sweetie! The Feds can't nail me for tax fraud! Uh, not that there's anything in it, but you know, complicated business dealings, they might have got the wrong idea. . . . Most of all, I got a big chest of gold and jewels stashed away that I can sell on the open market now! Man, this is—well, it's like a big old Christmas present, doll!"
Dipper remembered his dream. "Maybe," he said mildly, "Santa gave it to you."
"Haw!" Stan laughed. "Get him, with the Santa and the sleigh and the reindeer! Yeah, Dip, it's nearly enough to make me a believer! Santa, he says."
They ate—except Stan was nearly too excited to get through his sandwich—and then Wendy and Dipper quietly stole away and went up to the Shack.
"You think maybe Santa is kinda—real?" Dipper asked her.
"Dunno, man," she said. "But the letter is, and that flying reindeer was at least kinda-sorta real!"
Mabel came floating in an hour later. "I am happy," she told them. "I am officially a happy girl. Happy Mabel, that's me. Ask me why."
Dipper said, "OK, Sis, why—"
"YOU HAVE TO ASK?" Mabel yelled, waving her arms. "Teek can come down for the Prom! I got a date for Senior Prom! I'm probably the first one in our class! All the girls at school are gonna go nuts over Teek! He's not gonna wear his glasses, even though it's allergy season, and have you noticed how he's got that little dimple in his chin? And those eyes of his? The other Senior girls are gonna die!"
"Cool!" Wendy said. "Hey, Dipper, he and I can fly down together."
"Oh, right, transportation," Mabel said, sounding apprehensive. "Dipper, do we have enough in savings—?"
"What, to fly him down? That would cost, I guess, around three hundred round-trip. Unless he went first-class. That'd be a thousand or so," Dipper said.
"You don't have to spend that much on me, though," Wendy said.
"Well, we can probably swing it," Dipper said. "Or maybe Grunkle Stan will lend Mabel the money. He just came into some moolah, as he says."
Mabel tossed herself into an armchair. "Yeah, I know, Atlantic City casinos, right? But 'lend' sounds so unpleasant. Like he'll want me to pay it back." She squirmed a little.
"That's kind of how a loan works," Dipper said. "What's the matter?"
"Something's sticking me," she said, twisting in the seat and feeling along the side of the cushion. She pulled a card from where it had been stuck between arm and cushion. "Huh. Soos must've lost this."
Dipper craned but couldn't make out what she was holding, except it was bigger than a postcard. "What is it?"
She showed him. It was a scratch-off lottery ticket—Santa's Christmas Bag, the game was called. It was a one-dollar ticket and the card said, "Win up to $2500."
Dipper got a tingly feeling. "I—think that's probably yours," he told Mabel.
She rolled her eyes. "Me? Even if I won something, I can't cash it in! You got to be eighteen. Here you go, Wendy, you're old enough. Take a chance!"
"Mabel," Dipper said, "I have a feeling about this. You and I both have sat in that chair. Why didn't we find that before today?"
"'Cause my butt's more sensitive than yours?" Mabel asked. "Wait, wait, you don't think this belongs to Soos or Grunkle Stan?"
"Never saw Soos buy a lottery ticket," Wendy said.
Dipper added, "And Grunkle Stan won't play the lottery. He said he learned long ago only to gamble on things he can touch—cards or dice, he means." He reached for Wendy's hand. "I think that's really a gift to you, Mabel. From Santa."
Wendy squeezed his hand and thought to him, Oh, man, wouldn't that be wild! If it happens, I swear I'm gonna send a letter to the North Pole next year!
"Santa, yeah, right. Suddenly you're a believer?" Mabel asked, cackling. "Oh, man. One little flying reindeer, and you lose it!"
Wendy got up and retrieved a quarter from the unused ashtray where Soos and Melody usually dropped loose change. "I'm just borrowing this," she said. "Here you go, Mabes. Take a chance."
"OK, how do you do this?" she asked, accepting the quarter.
Dipper gave her a hard-bound book and pointed to the directions printed on the lottery ticket. "It says right here—scratch off each ornament. If the amount under three of them is a match, you win that much money."
"Yeah, yeah, fat chance," Mabel said. "Here we go. Not bad, $2500. Five ornaments to go. . . blah, no match, it says free ticket. Ten bucks, like that would help. Hey, another $2500! If one of the last two ornaments matches—gah, I can't take the suspense! My hands are shaking! Wendy, you scratch off the last two, please!"
"OK, give it here," Wendy said. She started from the right side, last one. "Sorry, Mabes. This one's for fifty dollars, no match. Down to this one. Dipper-?"
"No," Dipper said. "I'd only jinx it. This is for you and Mabel. You do it."
"Don't get your hopes up, Mabes," Wendy murmured. But then she screeched, "No flippin' way! Two thousand five hundred!" She showed the ticket to Mabel.
"We won, we won!" Mabel said. "Wendy! Oh, my gosh, I'm so—OK, you take it and cash it in! And then half buys you a first-class ticket, and use whatever's left to get a real nice prom dress—my heart's beating so fast! Um, and you can get Teek a first-class as well, and, um—Wendy, when you come to Piedmont, will you please drive Teek to the airport? To make sure he doesn't miss the flight? Oh, my God! I—" she snatched the ticket and kissed the jolly sketch of Santa. "Thank you, Mr. Claus!"
And in his mind, Dipper echoed that thanks.
Sunday was the first day of 2017.
On the last day of August of that year, Dipper and Mabel would be eighteen.
And Dipper and Wendy—
Don't dream about it yet, he told himself. You didn't jinx the ticket. Don't jinx this!
He and Wendy spent a long time that morning saying goodbye. So did Teek and Mabel. But the day was still in infancy, the clock showing seven-thirty, when Dipper said, "Well, we'd better go. It's a long drive home."
"I love you, Dipper Pines," Wendy said. She plopped the trapper's hat on his head. "Dude, I—I'll see you at your prom. And then later that same month, we get to go to Burbank to see that ghost hunter show taping. Oh, my God, I'm gonna miss you so much!"
"I'll miss you, Magic Girl," Dipper said. "And I love you, too. But—well, hold on. It's less than a year now."
"Yeah. That'll keep me going, but I can hardly wait."
"Stay safe," he told her. "Seriously. If there's any hint of trouble, any at all—call Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan. And then call me!"
"Hey, I'll take care of business," she said.
They walked into the gift shop, where Mabel was kissing Teek. "Gotta go, Sis," Dipper said.
"Aw."
Teek hugged her. "It's not so long until April."
"Seems like forever to me." She kissed his cheek. "You'll go check on Waddles and Widdles every other week, OK?"
"I promise," Teek said.
"Be good," she murmured.
"I will. You, too."
She laughed. "That's not part of the deal!"
They crunched over frosted grass to the parking lot. It looked like a sunny day, probably warming up as it went on. And anyway, they were headed south to sunny California.
Mabel took the first turn at the wheel. "I get so tired of leaving this place," she said softly as she fastened her seatbelt.
"I know," Dipper agreed, snapping his own belt. "But one day—"
"Yeah," Mabel said. "One day."
They didn't say anything more. They didn't need to say it. Mabel started Helen Wheels, they waved one last goodbye to Teek and to Wendy, and they headed for home.
The End