dividing blue from blue
It's getting close to ten at night and Dipper is standing in the corner of the room, trying his darndest to look cool.
This is difficult because… well, because it's him, for starters, but also because he's dressed like a Ghost Harasser. Surprisingly, it's not the dorkiest costume in the room. That dubious honor likely goes to Thompson, who's garbed in a Jedi costume which is obviously a bathrobe.
Mabel is bouncing around in her own Ghost Harasser costume; it had been Dipper's turn to pick the theme. Pacifica, however, demurred when offered the opportunity to match the twins. She flits elegantly through the throng in an expensive-looking dress she pulled from somewhere in her stack of suitcases. Dipper still thinks it doesn't really count as a costume when it's something she already had, but there's no point in arguing. She's dressed as a 'princess' and that's that.
It's not Summerween. It's about a week or so early, maybe a week and a half if Dipper is remembering right. He hadn't caught the full explanation in the initial rush of excitement (Mabel had been the one told, so he heard it all secondhand). Apparently, someone or the other is going to be out of town on the actual Summerween, so this party is being thrown early. He supposes it's this or no party at all, if this is the usual place.
He's not sure whose house this is. There are cheap green streamers draped around the doorways and a few jack-o'-melons in key locations; most of the lamps have sheets draped over them to dim the mood appropriately. There's no flyer this year; their invitation came straight from Wendy, along with their transportation. He thinks it might be Tambry's place, but it could be someone else's.
For his part, Dipper is excited to be at his first cool teen party (or at least as cool as anything in Gravity Falls can be). He's got a red plastic cup of punch and good section of the wall to lean on as he views the action from the sidelines, taking sporadic sips. That's a cool thing to do, right? He feels cool. He puts one foot flat on the wall behind him with classic loitering poise.
"Uh, O-M-G, feet off my wall," Tambry snaps at him as she brushes past with her eyes glued to her phone.
So it is Tambry's place. Dipper immediately drops his foot and hopes no one notices in the low light, taking quick drink to hide his chagrin.
Tambry goes over to the corner of the couch where Robbie is fiddling with his guitar for the benefit of the handful of people who still buy into his schtick. And maybe that's unkind, but… it's still how Dipper feels.
He's in a weird place with Robbie. Dipper's been changed by last summer and everything in between, but if he's being honest then has to admit that Robbie has too. The moody older teenager is still sort of an overdramatic, jerky poseur, but the old aggression just isn't there, that sense of enmity. Maybe they are both aware of how real the stakes can be and how pointless their feud was. Maybe they can't take that kind of shallow rivalry seriously anymore.
The entire foundation of their animosity has been pulled out from under them. Neither of them is into Wendy; not like they used to be. That was a solid eighty percent of the reason they had so disliked each other. All that's left now is the fact that Robbie is… well, still Robbie. Kind of a tool. And even that's not as true as it had once been.
Dipper isn't rushing over to make friends with the guy, but he's also not using his vantage point to glare poisonously at his one-time rival. So… that's progress?
"BOOM! Gotcha, ghost!"
Dipper staggers to the side as Mabel comes out of nowhere and nearly knocks him to the floor with hug that's more of a tackle. He's lucky his cup of punch is nearly empty.
He laughs slightly and tries to shrug out of her grip. "I'm not a ghost, Mabel. We're on the same team, remember?"
"Yeah, okay. I still think you should have been a ghost, though. Now that's a twin costume." She pulls back and pushes a comradely fist against his shoulder, her eyes glittering in the near dark. "Trying to be a cool wall-guy, huh? I see what you're up to," she says slyly.
"I'm just hanging out at a party," Dipper says with as much nonchalance as he can muster.
"Where's Pacifica? Why isn't she making you dance?" Mabel wonders, raising up on her tiptoes to look around for the other girl.
That's a pertinent question, albeit one Dipper isn't in a hurry to answer. Learning to slow dance is one thing; trying to dance to something with more energy is probably beyond him. Besides, he's glad to have caught Mabel alone for a minute.
"Mabel, I've been meaning to—" he begins.
"There she is!" Mabel exclaims, and darts off in the middle of his sentence.
Dipper doesn't see Pacifica anywhere. His suspicions are confirmed: Mabel is avoiding him. At least she is when he wants to talk, anyway. Something's going on with her.
He stands there with his punch in hand, debating whether it's worth going after her when there's so many other people around. Probably not, right? There are too many opportunities for her to evade and distract. She is, as always, the heart of the party and there's literally no one here that she can't pull into any given conversation. Better to wait until they're back at the Shack.
"Yo, Dipper!" Wendy calls out, pulling him from his musings.
Dipper turns and sees Wendy slouched on one of the couches that have been set in a rough circle. She's with most of the group: Nate, Lee, and Thompson are clustered there as well.
Wendy pats the empty cushion next to her. "Grab a seat, man."
"Dr. Funtimes!" Nate catcalls as Dipper hoists himself over a couch arm and slumps down next to Wendy.
Lee points a mock-serious finger in Dipper's direction. "Dude, level with me—what's it like hooking up with Pacifica Northwest? Is it like dating a marquis? 'Cause I want to say it's like dating a marquis."
"I guess?" Dipper says. "I mean, I've never dated a marquis."
"Close enough," Wendy chortles, giving him a gentle elbow to the side.
Thompson's brow furrows in confusion. "Hah, yeah, but how is she a sign…?"
There's a moment of uncomprehending silence. Then Nate's face fills with utter glee as he figures it out. "Oh my god," he says, leaning back into the couch as he laughs, "he thinks you said marquee, like at the theater!"
Thompson immediately backpedals. "No, I know what a marquis is, I totally know—"
Lee is beside himself. "Dude, why are you digging yourself even deeper?!"
"Thompson, bail out!" Nate howls.
"Come on, guys…" Thompson whines.
Wendy is laughing next to Dipper, shaking the couch with her mirth, and this is everything he had wanted last summer, to belong like this, to be a part of her group. Honestly, it's pretty nice this summer, too.
"Status update: laughing at Thompson, per usual," Tambry says in her monotone staccato as she approaches the couch, thumbs clicking away at her phone.
"What'd Thompson do now?" Robbie says as he vaults over the back of one of the couches and settles in with Tambry at his side.
The source of all the laughter isn't even half as funny when it's retold (you had to be there), and soon the conversation moves away from poor Thompson. Dipper sits at the edge of it, just happy to be able to exist in this spot with these people.
About an hour later, the party has started to clear out. It's getting late and Tambry's parents are tolerant as far as parents go, but there's an expiration date on the get together. Wendy is in Tambry's closest social circle and is one of the last to leave, which means Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica are stuck there until she does.
Walking home isn't a good option; when Dipper steps outside, the sky is black, and the air speaks of rain. It's been an unusually wet June so far, raining off and on for the last week. There's a real summer storm on the horizon, past the cliffs; Dipper can see the flicker of lightning pulsing like giant fireflies caught in the clouds, too far away to be heard. The mild temperature of the day is turning colder. The wind is chilly, but it feels good after the close heat of the party. He stands on the patio and breathes in the bracing rain-fresh air rolling in before the storm.
He's slightly startled when he realizes that he's not alone. Pacifica is at the other end of the patio; there are visible goosebumps on her arms as the wind is cuts through her thin dress. She's staring out at the far-off storm, her eyes as distant as those fulgurant clouds.
"Pacifica?" he ventures, approaching her.
Her lower lip pushes upwards as she squints, her face taking on a thoughtful cast. "Do you ever look at clouds like that and wonder who's under them?" she asks.
He blinks. "Well… yeah. All the time," he admits. He starts to smile. "I guess I didn't know anyone else did."
"I didn't use to," she murmurs.
He's not sure if she wants to be alone, but he puts a tentative arm around her and relaxes when she leans into him. The skin of her bare arm is cold beneath his palm. They should both get inside soon.
"How are we here?" she says, her voice low beneath the wind.
He looks at her, concerned. "What do you mean?"
She shivers as another gust sweeps across the yard. "I don't know. I'm in Gravity Falls, I'm at a party… everything is the same, but everything is different."
This is such a vague assessment; and yet, Dipper is keenly empathetic to her meaning. He knows this kind of existential speedbump. Those first weeks after last summer had seemed an endless series of them. He was in his old life, and he wasn't. He was himself, but not. Everything was different then.
Everything is different now.
He's proud of her. She is learning to see herself and the world around her. She is growing in so many, many ways.
"I might have worn this some other place," she says, running her hands down her sleek sides. "I don't remember. Somebody here might, and I'm just… Like a rerun, but the words are wrong. Old dress, different me."
He turns her towards him, makes sure she's meeting his eyes. "Real you," he says.
As they stand there on the concrete slabs of the patio—his hands at her arms, hers pressed lightly to his chest, their eyes locked in concert—there comes a moment where they seem so close, so fully twined in understanding, that to kiss would somehow be a step removed.
A faint roll of thunder echoes from the cliffs; the storm is getting closer. Pacifica shudders again in the wind and wraps her arms around herself. "Tch," she scoffs, her expression reigniting with haughty verve. "You infected me with your nerd brain. I hope you're happy."
"Actually, I am," he says with a grin, taking her hand to go inside.
The warmth of the living room is almost oppressive after being outside. Wendy is still talking to Tambry but they're standing by the front door, so it looks like it's about time to go. Mabel is nowhere to be seen.
Tambry turns away from Wendy and walks towards the kitchen; she stops near Dipper and Pacifica and makes unusual eye contact with them. "Hey, thanks for coming," she says with a surprising lack of sarcasm. "It was cool."
"Uh, yeah, totally," Dipper stammers, unprepared to have even a brief moment of genuine communication with Tambry.
Pacifica is considerably more articulate. "We had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting us, Tambry," she says with a touch of formality.
Tambry reciprocates the sentiment, if not the formality. "Totes. T-T-Y-L," she says with a friendly flip of her hand.
But it turns out that isn't the biggest surprise. Robbie, following Tambry to the kitchen, turns as he walks past and jerks his chin upward towards Dipper in acknowledgement. "See you around," he says.
Dipper manages an awkward sort of half-wave as Robbie disappears into the next room, too stunned to reply.
Pacifica looks entirely too pleased. "Networking? Not bad for a first try. Next time, talk to me first."
Dipper just sighs. "You know I'm not…"
"Not with that attitude."
They meet Wendy at the door and step back out into the cool air of the night. Mabel is leaning against Wendy's car, looking sleepy and ready to go home. The ride back is only a few minutes long and Wendy stays in the driver seat as they clamber out, the darkened Shack welcoming them home. Dipper can see the shifting light of the television downstairs and knows that Grunkle Stan is still up.
Just as Dipper is about leave, Wendy reaches out and tugs at the sleeve of his costume. He turns back to look at her.
"You have fun?" she asks.
"Yeah, definitely," he says, smiling. "Thanks for taking us along."
"No prob. Tambry actually asked if you could come anyway."
"She's the one going out of town?"
"Yeah, and we always party at her place. Better early than never, am I right?"
"For sure."
Behind him, Dipper can hear the door to the Shack open but doesn't hear it close; he knows Pacifica is probably waiting.
Wendy's expression has turned serious. "You know Mabel was avoiding you, right?"
Dipper grimaces and nods. "Yeah… I know."
"I tried to talk to her about it, but she wasn't having it." Wendy shrugs. "Just making sure you know what's up."
"I'm pretty sure I do. I think."
Wendy tilts her head, assessing him. "Want my advice?"
"Always."
"Don't let it go. 'Cause you guys are super tight, and if she doesn't want to talk to you then something's wrong, man."
This is Dipper's assessment too. "I know. I think it's because… I think it's when I fell. And maybe some other stuff from last summer."
"You'll work it out," Wendy says confidently. "You guys always do."
"Yeah. Yeah, we always do," he replies with a hint of genuine optimism. Because Wendy's right, after all. As usual.
"Alright—catch you later," Wendy says with a lazy two-fingered salute.
Dipper slides off the seat and shuts the door, watching as Wendy turns a tight circle in the parking lot, rumbling along the gravel until her taillights disappear behind the pines lining Gopher Road.
"What was that about?" Pacifica asks when he approaches.
"Mabel," he tells her.
"She's being weird. Like, even for her."
"Tell me about it," he sighs.
It isn't until he ascends the steps to the attic room and struggles out of his costume that he realizes how tired he is. He climbs into bed, resolving to shower and brush his teeth in the morning.
Across the room, Mabel is already asleep. He considers waking her up to talk, but the thought vanishes as soon as his head hits his pillow.
Dividing Blue from Blue by Woke Up Falling (M-Theory, 2001)