at the top of this hill
The sun is just beginning to dip over the Bay area, tinting the clouds at the horizon orange and red with the first hint of purple at the lowest edges. The neighborhood is mostly still; the faint sound of children playing echoes out from the park about a block over. Dipper knows he isn't that far removed from those days, but it still feels like a lifetime ago. Like someone else's lifetime ago. It's incredible to think of the effect a single summer has had on his perspective. He's not grown up yet, he knows that. But he can't see the world the way he used to, either.
Pacifica's hand is warm where it rests in his. This is an entirely new experience, being hand in hand on the sidewalk. Dipper has never really thought of Pacifica as the kind of girl who would be openly affectionate in public, and sometimes that's been true. Other times, though, she's seemed utterly unconcerned with what anyone might think of her relationship with Dipper. Still, he isn't exactly into PDA. Even after all this time (all this time? It hasn't been that long, it just feels like it), when he takes her hand he feels like someone—who, in his imagination, looks vaguely like Preston Northwest for some reason—is about to call him out on it, make fun of him for thinking he could.
No one says anything. They don't get a second glance. They're just another young couple on the sidewalk in the warm evening air.
The peace of the community almost feels like a congratulation. It's like, it's not because of him that there is peace to begin with, but he had a hand in its continuation. And it's such a good feeling that he knows—with a clarity he's rarely matched, in a way that he's so infrequently known anything—that this is something he wants out of life. He wants to thwart the powers that threaten his universe; he wants to save people, even if they don't know about it. He wants to study and plan and catalog and learn from Ford. The weight of Journal A in his vest pocket is a promise, a bound-paper pledge.
There's another promise that's far more immediate. Summer vacation looms ahead, the boundary about to be crossed. Soon he'll be on a bus headed north, the scenery shifting into evergreen hues. It's so close he can hardly stand it. His body might be rooted in Piedmont, but his heart flies ahead.
As for Pacifica, her excitement has been difficult to gauge (not so with Mabel, who is practically bouncing off the walls). Dipper had thought that the plan for this summer didn't need to be stated, but maybe it does.
He looks over at her. She's as perfect in profile as a movie poster: delicately pointed nose, full lips, elegant cheekbones, and long-lashed dark blue eyes. It's the kind of face that recalls shadow portraits, makeup ads, and glamorous actresses in black and white. Not for the first time, he wonders if he is permanently out of his league. Then again, Mabel's been growing up quite well if the attention she's been garnering from boys is any indication, especially in the last third of the school year. And they are twins, so… at least he'll be pretty? Great. He scratches his chin and wonders if he can grow a beard.
He squeezes Pacifica's hand lightly, gaining her full attention. "Okay, so, I know we haven't talked about it, but you do want to go back to Gravity Falls with us, right?"
"I thought I had to," she says noncommittally.
"Mom and Dad would let you stay, if you wanted," he says, though he's hoping that's not the case.
She looks at him sideways, and even though they're having a serious and necessary conversation he can't quite keep his gaze from darting to her lips. Their allure is substantial. "Do you want me to go?" she asks.
"Yeah, of course! I mean, it's your…" He fumbles the phrasing. He was going to say it was her home, but that's not quite right. He says instead, "Don't you want to go back?"
She looks away. "I don't know why you want me to. It's not like you have a lot of great memories of me there," she says with a tinge of self-reproach.
It makes him frown. "That's not true. You were a part of it too, Pacifica. You were with us."
"Only because I had to be," she retorts.
He doesn't buy that for a second. "Hey, you volunteered. Don't act like I don't remember."
Her mouth slants dubiously. "Maybe," she allows.
He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, bringing her to a halt as well. "If you don't want to go, no one's going to make you," he says, disappointment filling him.
It must show on his face, because she crosses her arms and averts her gaze guiltily. "No one wants me to go back," she mutters.
"I do! I just said I did!" he says disbelievingly. "And you know Mabel wants you to come with."
Her cheeks turn red, her eyes narrowing. "Of course you want to go back."
"I— what?"
"Of course you guys want to go back!" she explodes. "Everyone wants you to go back, you're heroes or whatever! Well, guess what, I'm not! I'm the girl everybody wants to forget about!"
He's taken aback. "That's… not—"
"Not what? Not true? Yeah, right! Maybe because I'm your girlfriend you forgot what a jerk I am, but I bet they haven't!"
He doesn't miss the use of present tense. "You aren't like that anymore," he tries.
"So? Why should they care?" she huffs. She turns away from him. "Just forget it. I'll stay here."
His vision of a summer spent with her is rapidly disintegrating. "Come on, don't say that," he stalls.
"Sometimes it is too late," she says heavily.
He doesn't believe that. "Pacifica, you've already shown Gravity Falls how different you are. You really think they've forgotten you saved them from Bill's throne? You proved yourself!"
"They want to forget about that too."
He falters, remembering 'Never Mind All That.' "Well… too bad, because they can't. I don't care what the Mayor said, Gravity Falls is as weird as ever and now the Blind Eye is gone." When she doesn't respond, he adds, exasperated, "Come on, it really isn't so bad. Remember me and Mabel's birthday party? No one tried to make you leave; no one said they didn't want you there. I thought you had fun."
"It was fun, but…"
"Look: Last summer, I learned that you can't make someone like you the way you want to be liked. But this year, I learned that people can change, and I learned that from you. All you can do is be who you really are. You proved you were sorry, and you tried to change, and you did. And if Mabel and me can see that, what makes you think no one else will?"
"You guys are different," she argues.
"Fine, maybe some people won't want to let it go. But you wouldn't want to be friends with those people anyway," he counters.
"You sound like a self-help book," she says with a half-hearted sneer.
"Man, I don't know!" he says defensively. "I just want to spend the summer with my girlfriend…"
"And how are we going to spend that summer?" she inquires, suddenly stepping closer to him and bringing herself into kissing range.
"Uh, well," he stammers, voice cracking on the 'w,' "you know… Monster hunting, anomaly seeking, other… types of adventuring…"
"Making out?" she suggests.
He laughs nervously for much longer than he wants to. "Ah-ha, heh, um, yeah, that would be… totally."
Her teasing demeanor falls away as quickly as it appeared. "You really want me to go?"
"It wouldn't be the same without you," he says honestly, hope mingling with anticipation.
"You just want to make out all summer," she accuses.
"No! I mean… sort of? That's not the only reason," he denies.
She looks vulnerable in the light of evening. "Really?"
"Yes, really. Me and Mabel have been looking forward to this all year and we don't want to leave you here. I don't want to. I want you to go with."
For a moment she stares back at him, her face etched with emotion. Then she brushes her hair back over her shoulders and places her hands on her hips in a confident pose. "Okay, I'll go."
"Yes!" he exults. "It's gonna be so great!"
They resume walking, Dipper with a new spring in his step. He's so close to going back. He can practically smell the ever-present sharp hint of pine sap, hear the wind brushing through the boughs of the forest. There's an attic roof with knotted beams and a painting of a sailing ship waiting for him, just six hours away. Except now when he imagines himself in front of Grunkle Stan's old TV, unwinding with some Gravity Falls Public Access after another long summer day, it's not just Mabel and Grunkle Stan there with him. Great-Uncle Ford is there, making notations and observations while watching the show out of the corner of his eye; and on the floor, close against Dipper's side, Pacifica sits with the shifting colors flickering across her face. It's an image he wants to live, and it's within reach.
The crickets are just beginning to sound as they reach the top of a hill. Piedmont may be very normal, but it is not without its charms; especially on such a nice evening. A warm breeze swoops down the street, rippling over the grass of the lawns and tugging at Dipper's shirt.
Dipper doesn't know precisely what the future holds. He only knows that if he's spending his summers in Gravity Falls (and he will do everything to ensure that is the truth), then he'll be spending the rest of the year here, with Mom and Dad. He's made his peace with that. Piedmont isn't such a bad place to be. Besides, if recent events have taught him anything, it's that his life is going to be weird no matter where he is.
He just wishes he knew if Pacifica is going to be a part of that life, in the summer or any other season. Her situation has stabilized, but for how long? Her parents will work things out eventually, one way or the other, and then she'll be pulled back into whatever's left of her old life. He doesn't want that for her any more than she does. But he also can't see any way around it. It's not up to him.
He reaches out and takes her hand again, as if he can keep her with him by a physical hold.
He must be squeezing her hand a bit tighter than usual because she looks at him in question. "What?" she says.
"I'm just…" He tries to put his anxiety into words without sounding fearful. "You'll keep in touch, right, if you have to move out? Maybe we could still meet in Gravity Falls over the summer."
She scowls. "I don't want to leave."
"I don't want you to leave either."
"So I won't," she says with finality.
He grins, amused by the imperious lift of her chin. "I don't know if it's that easy."
"You just watch. They can't tell me what to do anymore," she says, and there's no question as to who 'they' are.
Dipper could easily argue otherwise, but he doesn't really feel like it. "I think it's gonna be a great summer," he says instead.
"Well, duh," she scoffs, leaning into him. "You're spending it with me."
They walk over the crest of the hill as the setting sun gilds the undersides of the clouds with a gloss of gold. There's a future ahead of them they can't see yet, but they'll reach it together, joined and hopeful, hand in hand.
joined and hopeful, hand in hand
message to bears – at the top of this hill