Camo sat on the floor, reading her book. It was actually her fourth book in the past two days—work was boring whenever Stan kicked them off the TV—but she didn't mind. Reading was fun, and she still did two or three tours a day from the total lack of tourists. Honestly, between it being past the summer rush and the Tent of Telepathy opening up, they hardly got anyone.
Anyway, Wendy was reading her magazine, Mabel was spinning on top of the globe, and Dipper was sitting on the barrel, reading his Journal. It was an average day for them, even when Dipper asked, "Mabel, do you believe in ghosts?" Actually, yeah, that was normal anyway. Dipper was constantly reading the Journal, and he was obsessed with the paranormal.
Mabel, predictably, responded with, "I believe you're a huge dork!" and started laughing. Camo wasn't sure why she was paying attention; after all, she had a book. Maybe it had something to do with the book. Maybe it was boring. Dipper was constantly reading the Journal, maybe that would be an interesting thing to read? Dipper stopped the globe she was spinning on, and she fell off of it.
Stan opened the door and said, "Soos! Wendy! Camo!" She looked up, and Soos came running across the room.
"What's up, Mr. Pines?" the handyman said, out of breath.
"I'm heading out. You three are gonna wash the bathrooms, right?"
"Yes, sir," Soos said with a salute.
"Absolutely not," Wendy said with a mocking one.
"Meh," Camo said, rolling over and continuing to read her book.
Stan laughed at their antics and said, "You stay out of trouble." Then he left, shutting the door.
Wendy promptly walked to a blue cloth hiding something and said in a knowing voice, "Hey, guys, what's this?" Camo made a bored face and rolled her eyes. It was something she didn't care about, obviously! Ugh. Why did people have to stop her from reading her book?! "A secret ladder to the roof?"
Without looking up from her book, she deadpanned, "Wendy, this is Stan's house. Anything that's here, he would know about. I highly doubt any of your secrets are genuinely secret."
"Can we actually go up there?" Dipper asked, completely ignoring Camo. He did that a lot. And he wondered why she liked Mabel better?
"Sure we can. Roof time! Roof time!" the teen chanted. The twins joined in on the chant, but Mabel paused and glanced at Camo, who just sat there, on the floor, reading her book.
"You coming, Camo?"
"Nah. My book is better than anything you guys could possibly have up there."
"RANDOM DANCE PARTY FOR NO REASON!" Mabel called out and, since Camo had finished her book . . . and the next one . . . and Dipper wasn't stoked on the idea of her reading his Journal, she joined in, dancing with Mabel and Wendy to the boom box. She did notice Dipper staring at Wendy while writing something, which meant his handwriting must've been horrible . . . or he was pretending to write because he had a crush.
Yeah, Mabel had told her about his weird actions on the roof, and she hadn't especially cared. Love was dumb, and she'd promised to herself that she wouldn't let herself date or anything at least until high school. Magidbeleon had weirded her out, and she didn't want to be involved in anything like that.
"Dipper!" Wendy called, and he freaked out, nearly dropping his clipboard and stammering all the while. "Aren't you gonna get in on this?"
"Yeah, even I put down my book for this," Camo pointed out. "And at this point you know how much I love reading."
"I, uh, don't really dance," he said sheepishly, blushing.
"Yeah, you do!" Mabel said. "Mom used to dress him up in a lamb costume and make him do . . . the lamby dance." Camo let out an undignified snort at that, glancing at the embarrassed preteen boy.
"Now is not the time to talk about the lamby dance," he said in a hastened tone that was very clearly trying to hide embarrassment.
"Oh, after this, it's always the time to talk about the lamby dance," Camo grinned. He still held her name above her head, well, now she had some blackmail to use against him!
"Lamb costume? Whoa!" Wendy said. "Is there, like, little ears and a tail, or—"
"Well, uh . . . uh . . ." The poor kid was as red as a beet.
"Dipper would prance around and sing a song about grazing," Mabel laughed, and she even provided a picture. Camo snatched that out of her hand, and the two girls had a little fight over the adorable little picture. Dipper was signaling for his twin to shut up, but either she didn't see or she didn't care, because it took the clock chiming for her to quiet down.
"Hey, look at that," Wendy commented. "Quitting time. The gang's waiting for me." Ugh, it was time for work to be over already? She knew most kids didn't work, and if they did, they hated their jobs like Wendy did, but . . . Camo didn't like having to return 'home' to the empty motel room and her thinning wallet. Stan paid surprisingly well, for someone of his disposition, but it wasn't quite enough to pay for food and the motel room and stuff. Little by little, the $200 she had started out with was trickling away. At the moment, she was sitting around $110. Enough, but . . . she couldn't sustain herself like this.
"Hey, wait, uh, maybe I could . . . or we could come with you," Dipper suggested.
"Ooh, I don't know. My friends are pretty intense. How old did you guys say you are?"
"We're thirteen, so, technically a teen," he said quickly, and Camo quirked up an eyebrow. Yeah, right. They were twelve, and their birthday wasn't until August 31, the last day of summer. She couldn't decide whether that was a good end to their summer or a damper on their birthday most years.
"All right. I like your moxie, kid. Let me get my stuff. Camo, you coming too?"
She thought about it, but eventually ended up shaking her head. She'd met Wendy's friends once before, on her second day at the Shack, and they were . . . a lot to handle. Besides, she had an idea. "Nope, you guys have all the fun you want."
The twins quietly argued over the age for a couple minutes and then went outside with Wendy. Camo, meanwhile, stayed put. She wanted to ask Stan something when he came back. She decided rereading her book was the best course of action until he came back.
She was already halfway through it when he did show, and when she realized this fact she had a little existential crisis. Were the books she was reading too small, or was she reading too much, or was she reading too fast? Whatever the reason, reading was better than watching TV, so whatever.
Stan looked at her oddly, and then at the clock. "Uh, kid, why are you still here?"
"I, uh, wanted to ask you something," she said, sliding her book away. "I . . . I'm staying in Gravity Falls with my grandma, but she doesn't make enough money, and . . ." She sighed and forced herself to look up at him. "I wanted to know if I could work extra hours for some more money."
Stan simply blinked and said, "It's inhuman, how responsible you are. Sure, whatever. You can restock, if you want." He waved a hand and turned to walk away, then spun back around and asked, "Uh, that book. Weren't you reading a different one this morning?"
"Uh, yeah?" she said, confused as to why he was asking that. "I finished that one. I'm rereading this one."
"But—that thing is the size of your head!"
Camo just shrugged and went to go get supplies to restock with.
"Stan? I finished restocking. What should I do now?"
"I don't know, go home?"
"Ugh!" she groaned. She walked into the living room, where Stan was sitting on his butt, watching TV. Of course he was. "How about, instead, we negotiate"—she looked him dead in the eyes—"payment."
"What? Why do you suddenly want to talk about money?"
She moaned and pulled at her hair. "Because I'm working extra hours for more money and I want to know if this'll be a good deal for me!"
Stan sighed and said, "Look. I'll just pay you by the hour instead, okay? So, your usual hours means your usual wage, and for each extra hour you do, you get a fraction more. Deal?"
"Yeah, sure. Deal."
The TV went back from commercials and it said, "You're watching the black-and-white-period-piece-old-lady-boring movie channel."
Stan looked around him and said, "Camo, where's the remote? I refuse to stand up."
"Pssh. Not going to work, old man. This'll be better than your usual stuff, just you wait."
"Stay tuned for the Friday night movie, The Duchess Approves, starring Sturly Stembleburgiss as The Duchess and Grampton St. Rumpterfabble as the irascible coxswain, Saunterblugget Hampterfuppinshire."
"Ah! Camo, come on! Release me from this torture!"
"I'm not getting up until you do!" she challenged as the movie started. Stan screamed in horror, and she smacked him on the leg to get him to shut up.
The phone eventually started ringing, and since Stan refused to get up, Camo reluctantly did. "Hello?" she said.
"Camo! It's me, Dipper, and . . . wait, why are you still there?"
She sighed when she heard his voice. "I'm watching a movie with your grunkle, so unless you have something important to say, I'd like to get back to it."
"Oh! Yeah. I, uh, we came to this old abandoned convenience store, and some creepy stuff is going on . . . something's up, I'm telling you!"
"And . . . what do you want me to do about it?"
She could hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the line. "I don't know, something!"
"Alright, I'll try to think of something to do. Best of luck with whatever you're dealing with."
She hung up and walked back to her spot on the floor by the armchair. Stan briefly looked at her and asked, "Well, who was it?"
"Dipper. He and Mabel went with Wendy and her friends to some old convenience store, and he's seeing creepy stuff. I think he wants me to go rescue him or something."
"Will you?"
"Sure won't. Do you have any more ice cream?"
Camo and Stan were sitting there, watching the wedding. Her ice cream container lay empty and forgotten on the floor next to her. She was leaned forward. It was the end, here was the payoff she had been waiting for!
"Ah, the wedding," Stan said happily. "We've waited so long for this. Oh, look at her in that dress. Count Lionel? What's he doing here?" She gasped at the man. He didn't deserve her, not one bit!
"I've come to reclaim my bride!" Count Lionel said. Yeah, right! That jerk just wanted her for her family fortune!
"You had your chance at the cotillion, you!" Stan yelled, and Camo smacked him in the leg to get him to shut up as a man at the wedding said the same thing. "That's what I'm saying!" Stan continued, as if she hadn't done anything. He screamed in frustration and, before she knew what was happening, he had picked up the TV and chucked it out of the window, where the twins were walking home. "Uh . . . Camo didn't find the remote."
She absently looked at the clock and did a double take. "Oh, scuff! I need to get home! Quick, Stan, gimme my pay so I can get out of here!"
The twins then saw her bolting out the door and back home, but they didn't say anything. At the Shack, that sort of thing was basically normal.
"I like to get my Christmas shopping done early. Do you have anything that's in the spirit of the season?" Tyler Cutebiker asked. Camo raised an eyebrow at the man. Stan was actually there, doing work—what? foreign concept!—and he clearly didn't know what to do with the guy either.
"Uh, how about these crystals?"
"Ha ha! Looks like broken glass!" Tyler laughed. That's because it is.
"What are you, a cop?" Stan looked genuinely nervous about that. She knew why. That man had secrets belonging to his secrets, and even she didn't know where he kept his secret stash of money in case he got caught, and she'd watched an old-timey movie with him the previous night. Tyler, meanwhile, found another thing to catch his interest, and he rushed over to look at it. The twins came in just then.
"Grunkle Stan, Camo," Dipper greeted.
"Can we go to the diner?" Mabel asked Stan. "We're huuuuuungry."
"Huuuuuuungry," her twin agreed, and the two of them proceeded to wiggle around their bellies and make silly noises, slamming their stomachs into each other.
"You two are weird," Camo said with a grin. She meant that as the highest caliber of a compliment.
"Yeah, sure," Stan said. "Camo can look after the Shack."
She stood upright, stopping her leaning to look offended. "Uh, no. I'm hungry too, and I'm leaving as soon as he does." She jabbed a finger at Tyler, who was . . . being Tyler, aka difficult.
"I'm fine locking him inside if you are," Stan deadpanned, and everyone nodded, so they shoved a plank of wood in front of the door and ran off. Knowing Tyler, he probably didn't even notice.
Greasy's Diner was not the most clean of locations. Camo already knew this, having eaten there a couple times, but for some reason she wanted to describe it for herself in her own 'style'. She didn't know. She was weird. Anyway, there was a woodpecker knocking on the wall, and a beaver coming up through the floor, and Old Man McGucket had had way too many cups of coffee and was starting to spill them, and even the cops were there, trying to see how fast they could eat a stack of pancakes.
The Pines ignored all this, so Camo decided she should, too. They sat down at a booth and Mabel put a spoon on her nose as Stan ordered with an uncomfortable amount of flirting. He, however, wanted to order very little food for all four of them, so she shook her head.
"Nope. I'm not settling for that. I'll pay for my own number three, okay?" Lazy Susan nodded and walked off.
"But Grunkle Stan, I want pancakes," Mabel moaned, tugging on Stan's sleeve.
"With the fancy flour they use these days?" was his defense. "What am I, made of money?" Hilariously, when he threw his arms up, a bill came out his sleeve. Camo snorted at the scene, but honestly, Stan created hilarious conversations wherever he went, so she rather quickly lost interest. She scanned the rest of the diner and spotted a strength machine offering a free plate of pancakes for anyone who can win at the same time Dipper did. They shared a look, and she hopped out of the booth to walk over. Dipper followed her, but she was in her own world.
She stretched her arms a little, then pushed on the stick. Now, even back when she was in her own time, when she had abhorred and resisted any kind of exercise, she had always been pretty tough. But after living in Gravity Falls for three weeks, and walking the fifteen minute speed-walk to the Mystery Shack multiple times a day, and also battling gnomes, wax statues, and a creepy ten-year-old, she had been forced to work out more. What did this mean? Well, instead of getting the baby ranking, she managed to score 'Rarely Passable', which she considered to be fairly decent, since it was three out of five.
Dipper was not so good. He scored a one. He was a 'wimp'.
He tried to defend himself by claiming the machine was broken, but Manley Dan shoved him out of the way and easily passed the machine, applying so much pressure with just his pinky that the machine exploded and knocked a pancake onto everyone's plate (or head, if you were Dipper).
"What? How—how are you more manly than me?!" Dipper asked, gesturing between Camo and himself. "You're not even a guy!"
"What's that got to do with anything?" she asked defensively.
"Ugh!" He groaned in frustration and ran for the door, tripping over the beaver on the floor on his way out. Camo exchanged a concerned glance with Mabel.
"I think I broke him."
She walked back to Stan and Mabel, not intending on leaving food she'd rightfully paid for. ". . . sure deep down you have a soft side too," Mabel was saying.
"Ha! Nothing in here but a cold, dark, empty soul." Lazy Susan dropped his food in front of him and he promptly replied, "Thanks there, sugar pot. I mean, honey wasp kitten baby. Ba-baby cow . . ." She just laughed and walked away (hopefully to get Camo's food. She was hungry.)
Both girls looked up at Stan and asked, "What was that about?"
Camo knew. It was easy to tell Susan had a crush on Stan (she'd known it from the day she'd met the lady, even before meeting Stan), and after seeing Dipper screw around with Wendy, it was pretty obvious that he had a matching one. Still, it was funny seeing Stan freak out about being pressed. He was just like his great-nephew.
"Wait just a second. I think I have an idea happening here," Mabel said, piecing the pieces together. Camo, meanwhile, just grinned as Susan came with her food. She happily munched on it as she watched the entertainment that was Mabel and Stan. "You have a thing for Lazy Susan!"
"Yeah, it's pretty obvious," Camo agreed, hiding her mouth with a hand so they didn't have to see her ickiness. "All the warning signs that Dipper has, you . . . also have."
"But k-k-keep it down, will ya?" he stuttered. "Alright, I admit it, okay? It would be nice . . ."
Camo lost interest exceedingly quickly. The door opened, and a boy her age came in. And she was glad Mabel didn't notice, because if she'd seen Camo with her eyes locked on him, she would've started matchmaking before she could defend herself.
Now, she wasn't Mabel. She wouldn't have a crush on someone just from seeing them. No, the reason her eyes were locked on this boy was his clothes. They were fantastic, and very clearly homemade. His shirt had multiple different patterns and colors sewn together, like scraps being reused. His jeans were just . . . jeans, unfortunately, but his shoes were new and decorated, and the jacket he had tied around his waist showed signs of being cool as well.
Basically, she could tell there was a chance this kid could become her friend.
Since she'd just finished her plate (she ate fast), she slipped out of the booth and wandered over to him. Mabel, fortunately, didn't notice, as she was too focused on her grunkle's crush to wonder about other ones. The walked up to his table and simply said, "Hey."
"Uh . . . hello?" he asked, clearly confused.
"I just wanted to say that I like your outfit," she said, and she smiled. That sentence must've sounded strange coming from someone wearing what she was wearing.
He set down his menu and looked at her. "Uh, thanks." He returned a nervous smile. "My dad's a tailor, and he's teaching me how to make my own clothes."
"Oh, sweet. I don't understand why everybody just settles for the normal stuff. I personally prefer to let out my pizzazz, if you hadn't noticed."
He laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, I had," he replied.
"What's your jacket look like?" she inquired, hoping she wouldn't be let down.
"Oh!" He pulled it off from around his waist and handed it to her. She looked at it, with an awesome black and white print with a bunch of funny newspaper headlines. "Wha-what do you think?"
"I think it's awesome," she said, and she meant it. She handed him his jacket back, since he probably wouldn't take very kindly to her stealing his stuff. "It's great how you can make your own clothes."
"Yeah, dad's pretty stoked about me learning, too," he agreed. She just stood there for a moment, neither of them really knowing what to say. "So, uh . . . what's your name?"
"Oh, right," she laughed uncomfortably at having forgotten. "I'm Camo."
"Jason," he said, and she grinned. She was about to say something else when—
"Camo! We're going back to the Shack!" Stan's voice cut through their conversation.
"Oh, right. I've got work right now, but . . ." she looked at Jason, "if you wanted to come by the Mystery Shack later . . . ?"
"Uh . . . sure, I'll talk to my parents, see if I can go."
She grinned. "Great!"
"CAMO!"
"COMING!"
Well, that was a promising conversation.