strange party
Dipper hadn't expected this. But he'd spent most of the previous day down in the lab, helping Great-Uncle Ford with the prototype generator. He hadn't been around to see the tables being pulled out of storage, or Soos sprinting with childlike glee to retrieve his keyboard. He'd been blissfully ignorant.
He really should have seen it coming, if only because of the offhand comment Grunkle Stan had made while they'd been eating in front of the TV.
Dipper can't remember the name of the film, but it's in black and white and near the end there's a scene of a crowd cheering. Everyone had been more concerned with eating and talking to each other than watching whatever was on the screen. Still, that part must have sparked something in Grunkle Stan's mind.
"This town loves you two knuckleheads," he'd announced to Dipper and Mabel. "I get asked about you all the time. It's annoying."
"They love you too-ooooo, Grunkle Stan," Mabel sang.
"Yeah, but they always loved me. I'm Mr. Mystery! Or, I was?" Grunkle Stan said, looking slightly perplexed.
Dipper shrugged modestly. "We helped save the town. That has to count for something."
"Two sets of twins, saving the town and saving the world," Mabel added. "It's kind of our thing."
"We've earned our share of good will," Ford agreed absently as he altered some equations.
"You're right, Ford." Grunkle Stan's eyes had narrowed thoughtfully, never a good sign. "We have earned our share of good money…"
All of which is why Dipper is now wearily hoisting his can of glow-in-the-dark spray paint yet again, wishing he'd picked today to disappear into the woods.
"Yes! More glow-in-the-dark everything!" Grunkle Stan demands from his perch at the top of the steps overlooking the Mystery Shack's largest room. "I want that wall to look like the 90s!"
Dipper half-heartedly sprays what's supposed to be a heart but looks a lot more like a butt. Grunkle Stan has decided that another party is just what's needed to rake in some easy cash. This time the theme is the return of the 'conquering heroes,' an excuse for Stan to glorify himself and his family and squeeze every possible cent out of Gravity Falls' youth scene.
Dipper thinks it's a good idea in the sense that it will probably bring in a lot of money for a marginal investment. The part he doesn't like is the part where he has to help set it up and then attend. He knows that Grunkle Stan will keep the twins present and very visible to maximize public interest. Stan even somehow talked Ford into making a brief appearance.
Soos practically begged Stan to be allowed to play DJ again, not that there was ever any question that he would since he does it for free. Dipper is a bit confused as to how the business structure of the Mystery Shack functions now, and he's pretty sure he's not alone. When Stan had left, he'd seemingly passed the Shack off; but had that passing of the mantle been intended to be temporary?
Soos was Mr. Mystery for almost a year. He and Melody kept the place afloat, but there is no getting around the fact that profits had been down; not severely, not enough to threaten the business, but enough to be noticeable. Soos just doesn't have Stan's killer instinct and near-total lack of ethics when it comes to profit, nor does he have the older man's innate hucksterism, that ability to give a gullible public exactly what they want. Stan kept the Shack going for thirty years, perfecting his craft over decades of experience. Soos has promise, but he's still learning.
The return of Stan and Ford has left the status of the Shack's organization an open question. Technically, Ford still owns the building itself. Stan owns most of what is inside. Soos is no longer purely a dedicated handyman and is, theoretically, now at the management level.
The thing is, Soos idolizes Stan. Dipper remembers the trip back to Soos' childhood and understands why—and why Soos had been so eager to get to know Dipper and Mabel; they are, to him, a brother and a sister. There is no real chance that Soos will ever fully take charge while Stan is still around, and it doesn't help that Stan slid right back into his old role the second he returned, handing out orders to Soos and everyone else. And maybe it's better this way. Soos has a lot to learn and Stan obviously isn't ready to retire.
It's nothing official, but Dipper thinks that Soos is comfortably fitting into a new role at the Shack: apprentice.
"Dipper!" Grunkle Stan barks, startling the boy from his contemplation. "What are you staring at? Less staring, more spraying!"
Dipper complies, albeit with reluctance. He is definitely the least enthused of the Mystery Shack's occupants: Soos can't wait to DJ again, Mabel is hotly anticipating another dance party with Candy and Grenda, Wendy is always down to clown, and Pacifica has been walking around the Shack getting opinions on different dresses—her anxiety over being seen by the townsfolk has taken a backseat to her need to be the queen of any party. Ford seems neutral towards the whole affair, which is still more positive than Dipper.
Dipper doesn't see the appeal this time. He's not a dancer, and it's not like he's looking to impress Wendy. He already has a girlfriend.
He freezes, spray can paused in mid-exclamation point. Wait a minute—he has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who loves parties and music and fashion. A girlfriend who is, with absolute certainty, going to want him to dance with her.
Oh, crap.
Does he even know how?
He is not doing the Lamby Dance for everyone's amusement. Never.
He sets down the spray paint and manages to make it up the stairs and out of the room while Grunkle Stan is shooting down Mabel's many party suggestions, all of which would cost more money and therefore won't be enacted. Dipper starts heading up to his room, but he realizes that's the first place Grunkle Stan will look, so he changes direction and ends up in the gift shop.
Melody is behind the counter. Dipper hesitantly approaches her.
He doesn't know Melody very well. Their first meeting was marred by a homicidal AI and she'd gone back to Portland before Dipper had been able to get to know her. This summer she's mostly been busy renovating the house she's renting with Soos, since Wendy is available to work the counter between school years. All Dipper really knows about her is that she likes animatronic pizza joints (or used to), has family in Portland, and sells a lot of homemade arts and crafts stuff online. She seems nice, though. And if she's dating Soos, she must be the patient type. Hopefully, patient enough to help Dipper out.
"Hi, Dipper," she says. "Finish setting up for the party? Or just taking a break?"
"Just taking a break," he says. He takes a deep breath. "Melody, do you know anything about dancing?"
"Just what I've picked up at weddings," she says. She looks at him more closely and starts to smile. "This is about Pacifica, isn't it? You two are so adorable together. I remember having the biggest crush on Mark Gramercy in eighth grade. I wanted to ask him to dance at one of the formals, but never had the nerve." She straightens up and walks around the counter. "Well, you aren't going to make the same mistake."
"So, you'll help me?" Dipper says in relief.
"I'm not an expert, but I know the basics. At least I can teach you not to step on her feet. Girls don't like that, trust me. I've had way more than my share of bruised toes."
Dipper hadn't even thought of that. He can imagine the look on Pacifica's face if he scuffs up her dress shoes.
Melody messes with her phone for a second and then sets it down on the nearby display of bobbleheads. A slow, jazzy song starts playing from its tinny speaker. She approaches him and takes his hands. "Okay, the important thing is the slow dance. Put your left hand here, just above my hip—there you go—and your other hand holds mine up here. Good, now follow with me: sway, and step. Sway, and step."
Dipper stumbles a little at first and keeps glancing at his shoes, but after a couple circles around the bobblehead display he's getting the hang of where to put his feet and when. He's eventually able to look Melody in the eye as they move; she's a bit taller than he is, so when he dances with Pacifica he'll be looking down, which should help.
"See? It's not so bad," she tells him as they slowly rotate.
His feeling of imminent doom has slowly receded. "I guess not," he says, surprised by that.
Her eyes are bright and amused. "I think it's so cute that you're doing this. Save a dance for me?"
He tentatively agrees, starting to feel marginally better about the whole thing.
Grunkle Stan catches up with Dipper soon after; one curt command later and he's outside, hanging a banner with Wendy.
"I thought you'd be more excited," Wendy says. She's ascending a ladder with her usual Amazonian grace while Dipper stands on safer, lower ground, holding his end of the banner.
"I guess parties just aren't my thing," Dipper replies.
"Really? I remember you being all gung-ho for the last one of these," Wendy remarks.
Dipper grimaces. He sees no reason to enlighten her as to why he was so 'gung-ho' for the previous summer's first party. "The afterparty was kind of fun," he recalls. He and Mabel, Candy, Grenda, and Wendy had goofed around on the empty dance floor while Soos DJed to his heart's content.
"So just be like you were for the afterparty for the actual party," Wendy advises. "You and Mabel are town heroes. Roll with it!"
"And you're a flippin' Corduroy," he says, thinking of just how awesome she'd been at the end of the world.
"Heck yes," she says, winking at him. "Seriously, dude, we've been through the most messed up junk. Don't let a little party freak you."
Easier said than done. In his mind he can see Pacifica in a perfect party ensemble with her perfect dance steps and her obsessive need to be the perfect Party Queen and he knows, he's seen, that so much of this comes from her parents. And she's doing better all the time. But as much as she's changed, there's still a lot of her that's the same person. A better person, yeah, but not a completely different one. Pacifica is possessive and competitive and driven to excel and he's going to get dragged along in her wake like a nerdy accessory.
At least he won't be stepping on her feet.
It's late evening. With the sun behind the cliffs, the young people of Gravity Falls have begun to gravitate towards the Shack, gathering in the parking lot. The sound of laughter echoes off the trees as kids tell jokes and shove each other playfully, collecting into groups of good friends and waving to new arrivals. Clearly, last year's early summer party is fondly remembered, and this time attendance looks to greatly increase.
Grunkle Stan is surveying all the kids outside with his nostrils flared, like he can smell the money in their pockets.
He turns around and addresses his assembled family and Shack employees. "Okay, crew: This time, I'm running the ticket table. No more of you slackers running off and leaving valuable customers hanging. Wendy, you watch the snacks. If anything gets low, refill it. But don't refill it too much. And see if you can get away with charging for napkins."
Wendy sketches a lazy salute, no doubt already set on ignoring him. "You got it."
"Soos, you already know what you're doing."
"Don't worry, Mr. Pines, I got the sickest beats around," Soos promises.
Grunkle Stan briefly pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ugh. Mabel, you work the floor. Bring 'em in and keep 'em there. You know, be the life of the party, etcetera. Be yourself."
"You can't spell Mabel Party without Mabel," Mabel says with two thumbs up.
To Dipper's surprise, Grunkle Stan then addresses Pacifica, who is standing at the edge of the group looking bored. "Northwest, you were popular for some reason. I want you with Mabel. And no stupid competitions or afterparties somewhere else this time. Let's not forget what's important: making lots and lots of untraceable cash."
"Fine," Pacifica says tartly. "But I get first dibs on the karaoke machine."
"Knock yourself out. Dipper—"
Dipper nods. "I know, Grunkle Stan. Be a big hero, bring people in."
"What? No, you're my ice guy. I don't need you scaring people off with anomaly talk or your sweating problem. Just keep an eye on the drinks—and for the love of all that's holy, don't talk about Weirdmageddon."
Dipper wilts a little. "But, I thought my journal would be a great conversation starter. Right? Aren't mole people super interesting? It's not that weird. Right? …Right?"
The silence is deafening.
Dipper slouches his way towards the door. "I'll go get the ice," he sighs.
"Yeesh," he hears Grunkle Stan say as he leaves the room. "Alright, I'm going out front. Soos, get started."
"It's gonna be off the chain!" Soos proclaims loudly.
"Party! Party! Party!" Wendy and Mabel chant.
Dipper glumly goes into the kitchen and hauls a bag of ice out of the freezer, carrying it towards the party room. He knows he's never going to be the life of the party, and he supposes talking about Weirdmageddon is a good way to get tased by Blubs and/or Durland. But he's still a town darling, isn't he? This is his chance to be cool for once. While Mabel and Pacifica work the dancefloor, he can be on the edges, trading high fives and anecdotes.
He turns the corner and runs straight into someone. The bag of ice crashes to the floor and promptly bursts. He stares down at the rapidly melting contents and wonders if Grunkle Stan is busy enough outside that he can get away with just leaving it.
He's collided with Pacifica. She's standing in the hall by the bathroom, gazing at the door which leads to the party. "Pacifica?" he says, wondering why she's not getting the party started. He's just bumped into her and nearly dropped a bag of ice on her feet and she barely seems to notice.
"Watch it," she says belatedly. "If you ruin these shoes, you're paying for them."
He rolls his eyes and unenthusiastically pushes some of the ice back into the busted bag with his foot. "I thought you'd be out there already," he says, indicating the doorway.
Maybe it's the light, but she looks pale. "I am! In a minute. I'm… getting ready."
"Pacifica, you're standing in the hall."
She bristles at that. "You wouldn't understand," she snaps.
Actually, he's starting to get the feeling that he would. From his angle relative to the doorway he can see a portion of the dancefloor. Mabel is there, already bopping around to the music and drawing a crowd with her irresistible enthusiasm. If Pacifica had walked out there last summer, she would have been surrounded by people who at least wanted to pretend to be her friend. Now she doesn't know what's going to happen, if she'll be accepted or rejected or totally ignored. That's the problem.
He wants to tell her it will be okay, but he doesn't think lying is going to help. He doesn't know if it's going to be okay any more than she does. So, he'll tell her the one thing he does know. "You'll always have Mabel and me, even if there's no one else," he says.
Her look towards him is grateful. "You'll come dance with me, right?"
"Definitely," he tells her even as he internally winces because there's no way out of it now. "Go on, it's your party too."
She squares her shoulders and raises her fine chin, posture instantly regal. "Okay. But you'd better not leave me hanging, Dipper."
"No way," he says, though he's pretty sure she'd just hunt him down if he decided to bail.
As if reading his mind, she fixes him with a gimlet eye. "I mean it. I want to dance with my boyfriend at our party."
He nods in surrender. "I'll be there. I promise."
Her eyes soften in reply. She strides out into the thumping bass and strobing lights with the confident strut he remembers from another party, not so long ago. He blows out a shaky breath and makes a mental note to try and catch Melody for some extra dance practice if he can. He needs all the help he can get.
He awkwardly shovels the spilled ice back into the broken bag and tosses it into the garbage. The floor is still wet, but he doubts anyone will notice. He makes his way through the gift shop to the porch outside to retrieve a second bag from the icebox. The lid drops down with a thunk and he's just turning to go back inside when he's suddenly grabbed from behind, hands wrapping around the backs of his arms. For a second time, his bag of ice goes crashing to the ground; he yelps and falls backwards.
He's dragged around the corner of the porch into the shadows under the eaves of the Shack. "Hey! Get— off—" He lunges forward and breaks free, spinning around to confront his assailant.
He finds himself blinking in astonishment, facing two mirror images of his past self.
"Three? Four?"