Camo was pulling her hair out. "The party's TODAY!" she yelped to Jason, who was sitting on her bed with a cute little smile. "What am I going to WEAR?! I don't own anything on the right level! I'm going to embarrass myself in front of everyone!" She collapsed, falling to the floor in defeat. "I don't have anything nice enough!"
"Well . . ." Jason said knowingly, with that same sweet smile. "You're lucky your boyfriend is the son of a tailor." He pulled a lumpy package out of his backpack.
She gasped. "You didn't."
"I did."
"NO WAY! LEMME SEE!" she excitedly squealed, grabbing it from him and plopping on her bed. Slowly, she pulled off the wrapping paper, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw what was inside. "Jason. I. LOVE. YOU." She hugged him and, feeling a little daring, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Both of them went bright red at that, as it was more obvious than they usually did, even if it was in private.
As an excuse to not talk about what she just did, she pulled out the gorgeous piece. It was a suit jacket with tails. The inside was a subdued dark green, her favorite color, but the main . . . it was camouflage. She gazed at the marbled green, gray, and brown. Golden clasps. Long tails on the back that would go past her knees.
With a look of awe, she slipped it on, almost afraid to damage it. The fabric . . . not only was the print perfect, the quality of it was stunning. It sat heavy around her shoulders, touching all parts of her torso at once (her build meant the shoulders were usually loose, but having specially-made clothing . . . it was amazing). It fit her perfectly, sweeping around her body and clasping in the front.
She had tears in her eyes. Literal tears at how wonderful is. "You are the best, oh my scuff, thankyouthankyouthankyou!" She had the biggest grin on her face, and he had a slightly more subdued version of the same expression.
She reverently pulled it off and set it on her bed gently, ever so gently. She gave Jason another big hug. "I can never make this up to you. This is the best present ever."
He was a little pink. "Thanks, Camo," he said softly. His smile persisted. "You deserve it."
"Okay, that's enough sappiness for now," she said. Scuff, now she was blushing, too. She was woefully underprepared for her precious cinnamon roll boyfriend that was Jason. "What are you going to wear?"
"Oh, I've got plans," he said, somewhat mischievously.
She didn't doubt it.
She was watching TV with Dipper. He had a pizza, soda, and chips, which she was filching some of. However, she had a bag of addictive chocolate-covered pretzels and a tub of ice cream, so she was set for herself. "You asked for it, you got it," the announcer said. "An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers on the Used To Be About History Channel."
"Be strong, bladder," Dipper told himself. "We're not gonna move till sunset."
Camo grimaced. "Speak for yourself. I'm taking bathroom breaks whenever I need to."
Toby Determined's voice came on. "We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news."
"Ah, what?"
"It's starting!" Mabel shouted, plopping into the armchair with her twin and knocking the pizza to the floor. Camo made a dive for it, and she managed to save most of the slices.
Candy ran in and sat on Dipper's other side. "Turn it up."
"Make room for Grenda!" The big girl laid on all of them and broke a lamp. Camo was suddenly very glad she preferred to sit on the floor.
Toby was shown. "Tonight's the night, but I've been out here for days," he said. He was certainly muddy enough. "The Northwest family's annual high-society shindig ball soiree is here. And even though common folk aren't let in, that won't stop us from camping out for a peek at the fanciness." The three girls who weren't going "oohed" at that, sparkles in their eyes.
"Okay, can someone please explain why people care about this?" Dipper asked.
"Yeah, you guys aren't even going," Camo frowned. Candy was the only one who noticed the phrasing, though she didn't say anything.
Grenda replied, "Um, it's pretty much the best party of all time. Rich food, richer boys."
"They say each gift basket has a live quail inside," Mabel commented.
"Give me your life, Pacifica," Candy moaned, leaning up against the screen.
Camo shrugged. "If there is a quail, then you can have mine. I can't care any less about that."
All three of the other girls gasped. "You're going?!" they said in shocked unison.
"Why? In case you've already forgotten, Pacifica Northwest is the worst." There was a knocking on the door. He went over to go answer it. "And that's not jealousy talking. I'd say that to her face." He opened the door.
Pacifica stood there. "I need your help."
"You're the worst." He slammed the door, and the others gasped. "See?" The rich girl knocked again, and he moodily opened it again.
"Look, you think it's easy for me to come here? I don't wanna be seen in this hovel." Okay, who asked? "But there's something haunting Northwest Manor. If you don't help me, the party could be ruined."
He just deadpanned, "And why should I trust you? All you've ever done is try to humiliate me, Mabel, and Camo."
"Just name your price, okay? I'll give you anything."
Mabel ran up to the door. Camo was barely paying attention, as Ghost Harassers had started actually playing. Still, out of the corner of her ear, she heard the preteen girl say, "Hi, Pacifica. Excuse us. Dipper, don't you see what this means? If you help Pacifica, you could get us invites to the greatest party of all time."
"What? Mabel, this is Pacifica we're talking about."
"But it's Candy and Grenda's dream."
"Dreeeeeeeeeam!"
She heard him sigh and walk back to the door. "Fine. I'll bust your ghost. But, in exchange, I'll need three tickets to the party."
The rich girl growled. "You're just lucky I'm desperate." The other girls were chanting loud enough that it was hard to watch the show. Camo glared at them, but they didn't seem to get the memo.
"Grenda, get the glue gun. We're making dresses."
Camo finally looked at them incredulously. "You know Jason, the son of a tailor, and you're going to make your own dresses?" She huffed slightly. "Suit yourself. Just get out of the way so I can watch my show."
They arrived at the grandeur. Jason still wasn't there, so Camo stood off to one side, pleased at the lack of rain that had gotten on her suit. "Welcome to Northwest Manor, dorks," Pacifica said. "Try not to touch anything."
"Hey, you invited me here willingly," Camo reminded her.
"I was talking to those three." She gestured to Candy, Mabel, and Grenda, then looked Camo up and down, eyeing her outfit. "You . . . don't actually look that bad," she said, sounding surprised.
All she replied with was "It pays to be the friend of a tailor's son".
There was a big skeleton attached to the ceiling, and a waiter walked by with a peacock in his hand. The room was decorated with lots of eagles and softer, subtler lights then you typically saw nowadays. There was a fountain of apple cider, an ice sculpture of a mermaid Pacifica, potted plants. And the buffet table. Camo ate a deviled egg in the most sophisticated way she could manage.
Mabel immediately started massaging a butler's face. Camo scooted away, trying to make it seem like the two of them weren't affiliated. Mabel even had a glue gun stuck in her dress. Suits were just . . . much better.
She knew she usually wasn't in a position to judge other people's fashion sense, but she did that intentionally, for the bafflement on people's faces when they saw her. When she wanted to, Camo could be fashionable. And humble. Totally humble. The most humble person out there.
However, since Jason wasn't there yet and she was curious as to Dipper's ghost-hunting job, she did follow him. "Ah, if it isn't the man of the hour," Pacifica's dad, Preston Northwest, said. "Hopefully, you can help us with our little . . . situation before the guests arrive in an hour."
An hour? She was definitely tailing Dipper. "I'll do my best," the boy said.
"Splendid. Pacifica, take our guest to the problem room, and, uh . . . he's not wearing that, is he?"
Dipper, of course, was in his normal clothes. "I'm on it," Pacifica said.
"Mr. Northwest, sir," Camo said politely, nodding respectfully to the man. "I'd like to help him, if you wouldn't mind." Mostly because she was bored, but whatever.
"Excellent. Go right on with them."
Before long, Pacifica had forced Dipper into a suit. He groaned and pulled at the collar. "It's like this collar is strangling me," he huffed. "Who do you guys think you're impressing with this stuff?"
"Um, everyone," Pacifica replied, straightening out his outfit. Camo watched from a distance and nodded. It fit him really well. "You wouldn't understand. High standards are what make the Northwest family great."
"Funny, I thought it was lying about founding the town." He played with one of the tassels on the fancy paintings.
"Don't touch that!"
Camo snorted and followed Pacifica. For some reason, while wearing this jacket, she felt more professional. Her posture was straighter, she tended to stand in more militaristic poses—she didn't understand it, but it definitely didn't stop her delight at wearing it.
Dipper opened the door into the "problem room" and she heard him gasp. It was certainly impressive, with all the decapitated heads of animals. The lightning from the storm outside just made it look even more epic. "This is the main room where it's been happening," Pacifica explained.
"Yep, this looks like the kind of room that would be haunted, all right," Dipper agreed. "I wouldn't be worried, though. Ghosts fall on a ten-category scale. Floating plates sound like a category one."
Camo hummed. "Well, the plates were being thrown at them, so maybe a two, at most a three."
"Possibly . . ."
The rich girl laughed derisively. "So what? Are you going to bore him back into the afterlife by reading from this book?"
"Just gotta splash this sucker with some anointed water, and he should be out of your probably-fake blonde hair." Before that comment, at least, Pacifica had looked annoyed that he hadn't fallen for her bait. Now she just looked mad.
"What was that about my hair?!"
A device in Dipper's bag beeped and flashed with a blue light. He shushed them. "Sh. I'm picking something up." He slowly stepped around the room, scanning it, only to look up at the painting of a woodcutter. His device went dark. He shook it. "Come on, stupid thing. There we go." As he was dealing with that, though, he didn't notice the woodcutter vanishing.
Camo gasped and looked around for the nearest weapon. She hadn't brought her lighter (she could've accidently hurt her jacket if she did that), so she would have to improvise. Pacifica screamed, as there was a puddle of blood at her feet that was leaking out of the stuffed bear head on the wall. All three of them shouted out when the fireplace exploded out.
Then the stuffed heads started chanting, "Ancient sins. Ancient sins." Things started floating around, like a gramophone and books. She spotted a pool cue being whipped around, so she grabbed it out of the air. Things swirled all around them, and the heads were still chanting.
"Yep, I'd definitely consider this a problem room!" she shouted, mostly to herself.
"What is this?" Pacifica asked.
There was a grim expression on his face. "It's a category ten." His anointed water broke in his hand, and all three of them started screaming, though Camo stopped when she saw a dagger being spun around them. That would make a better weapon! Maybe she should—
Nope. Blood would hurt the jacket, plus, it was going fast enough that she'd probably hurt herself trying to grab it.
"Ancient blood and blackened skies," one of the heads said on the wall. "The forest dark once more shall rise."
Pacifica was shaking Dipper (because he was the one she turned to originally, and Camo was menacingly holding her pool cue, probably) and saying, "What do we do, what do we do?"
"Don't worry. It can't get worse than this."
The fire blazed up and a skeleton on fire emerged. Camo deadpanned, "Wanna correct that statement?" The three of them dove under the table as flesh covered the skeleton, though the axe remained stuck in its skull.
"I smell a Northwest," it, he, said. A beard of blue fire surrounded it, and Camo squeaked slightly. Her poor coat wasn't going to make it out alive! An axe appeared in his hand, and he dragged it along the floor, leaving massive gouges. "Come out. Come out, wherever you are."
Camo whispered, "How do we defeat it?" at the same time that Pacifica complained, "Hurry, read through your dumb book already."
"I'm looking," he hissed back, "and it's not dumb, okay? This book is gonna save our lives. All right, here we go. Advice." He pulled out his black light, revealing "pray for mercy". Well, that was helpful. Time to grovel.
She rolled out from under the table and smiled sweetly at the terrifying ghost. "Hello, sir," she said politely. "If I do what you ask, will you not kill me or hurt my jacket? Thank you!"
"You shouldn't have come here," Axe-Head said. "My feud is with the Northwests, and you are an innocent. Give me the Northwest, and you shall be spared."
"No can do, buckaroo," she replied with a grin, then she bolted along with the other two. They rushed down the hall, pursued by a furious ghost. Welp, there goes her offer of being spared!
They ran into the garden when Pacifica said, "Hurry. Through the garden." However, she also said, "Watch out for peacocks." Dipper ran straight into one of them, which bleated (what does the cow say? Moo. What does the pig say? Oink. What does the peacock say? Oodle-oodle-oo!) They got their shoes all dirty while running, but it was just shoes. Not her wonderful suit jacket, so she was fine with it.
(She did pick up the tails, just in case they were long enough to trail in the mud. She couldn't be too sure.)
Dipper frantically searched through the Journal. "Come, on, come on . . . I got it! A haunted painting can only be trapped in a silver mirror. Look, there's a silver mirror right there!" He pointed further down the hall, to where, indeed, there was a large silver mirror hanging on the wall.
"Wait. Don't go in there," Pacifica warned. She grabbed him, and he stopped, almost setting foot on the carpet. "This room has my parents' favorite carpet pattern. They'll lose it if we track mud in there."
"What? Are you serious?" Dipper asked.
Camo snapped, "I'LL lose it if we waste any more time! We are being chased by a ghost, Pacifica, and I just gave up my chance to be a neutral party!"
"We'll find another way," she insisted, blocking their way.
The ghost spoke again behind them, sounding awfully close. "Pacifica, we don't have time for this," Dipper argued with her. "Let me through!"
"No. My parents will kill me!"
"Why are you so afraid of your parents?"
"You wouldn't understand!"
Camo watched as the two of them fought over the Journal, tracking muddy prints all over the carpet (not the fancy one causing this argument, though), and her eyes followed them as they ripped straight through a painting. She gasped and saw the ghost coming around the corner, so she followed, rolling in. Thankfully, her coat didn't get muddied up by a messy footprint.
They took a second to recuperate, and then looked around in shock. "What is this place?" Dipper asked, his voice echoing slightly.
"That's weird. I don't even know where this room is," Pacifica commented.
"Behind a painting," Camo said helpfully.
Dipper exhaled slightly. "Hopefully, the ghost doesn't, either." Oh, so he was ignoring her again. Got it. Nobody was smart enough to do banter with!
"Yeah. Maybe we're safe."
Word of wisdom: never, ever say anything along those lines while near Dipper. The tarp behind Pacifica started to move, the imprints of a face and hands pushing out slightly, accompanied by rough breathing. Camo shrieked, "Pacifica!" just before Dipper did.
She looked behind her and shrieked, running away. "Your fate is sealed!" the ghost said. He went chasing Pacifica, and Camo went chasing the ghost. Dipper ended up chasing her a second later, having found a small, handheld silver mirror.
She just hoped it was actual silver, and not platinum, or anything. It probably wouldn't work, unless it had to do with the reflectiveness or something.
Pacifica tripped, and the ghost caught up with her. "Prepare to die, Northwest!" the ghost boomed, raising its axe to slice down on her. However, Dipper slid between them with the mirror, and with a flash of light and an explosion, they were thrown backwards, through the window. They rolled down the hill and awkwardly landed at the base of a tree.
"Did you get him?" was the first thing Pacifica asked.
He tentatively looked, and the ghost said, "No! Free me!", banging on the glass. All three of them cheered and laughed. Pacifica hugged Dipper while Camo checked to make sure there were no grass stains or dirt on her jacket. Then she awkwardly released and both of them looked very awkward.
"Can I pay you to pretend that never happened?" Pacifica asked.
Dipper accepted the money, but Camo couldn't help herself. With a mischievous grin, she stage-whispered, "Dipper and Pacifica, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—"
"Nope!" Dipper shouted, tackling her and forcing her mouth shut. Both him and Pacifica were bright red at that point.
They returned to Pacifica's parents. Preston said, "Well, Pacifica, you really found the right people for the job." He snapped, and the butler shook Dipper's hand for him. That made Camo frown a little.
"We can't thank you enough," Mrs. Northwest said. The man continued shaking Dipper's hand. "That's enough," she added, and he stopped.
"Hey, just holdin' up my end of the deal," Dipper said humbly. He motioned to leave, so Camo took it as her opportunity to go revisit the party, or whatever. Straightening out her jacket, she took a deep breath and stepped back in.
The guests had arrived. With a long scan of the room, she finally noticed Jason and his father standing off to one side, chatting with another group. When her friend spotted her, though, his eyes lit up and he walked over. "Camo!" he said happily. "Where were you?"
"Busting a ghost with Dipper," she replied easily. "I'm done now, though."
"Guess I should've expected that," he said with a small smile. "How do you like it, though?" He gestured to his outfit, and she had to admit, she did like it.
After all, they matched.
His suit was rather similar to her jacket, but in shades of blue instead of the green, and his tie was a black where hers was dark brown, and his clasps were silver. Still, they matched really well, and she noticed a couple rich people looking at them with fond expressions. She supposed matching with someone you cared about really did curry someone's favor, just like it had gone on Summerween with Dipper and Mabel.
She still was proud of that spider costume.
At some point, though, he was called away to go talk with some other rich girl, so Camo ambled around, trying to look like she had a purpose. Her hair had gotten all messy, though by this point she'd rubbed away the dirt on her shoes with walking. She fixed her hair with an annoyed expression, but someone walked up to her. She glanced at the boy in front of her, and she gave him a little smile.
"Oh, hi," she said. "Um . . . I'm Camo." She extended a hand, and he shook it with a gloved one.
Um . . . his suit was of the same cut of hers. It was cute when she matched Jason, but now she was starting to think it was just the cool style. His was golden yellow with a brick design, and he wore a black bow tie and . . . an eyepatch . . .
Her eyes widened in realization.
"Oh, I know who you are, Hourglass," Bill said, laughing manically. "Why else would I be here?"
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
His voice went deep, and his suit flashed red. "You tell me." He laughed again, somehow even more chaotically than before, and he returned to his normal triangle shape. Everything distorted around him as his laughter boomed in her ears.
She yelped and shot back awake, rubbing her eyes. Ugh. She'd fallen asleep. So, he hadn't possessed anyone—she'd just fallen asleep against the wall. She groaned and stood back up, trying to act like she hadn't just fallen asleep.
He couldn't meet her in the Mindscape or whatever unless he knew she'd fallen asleep . . . which meant he was probably following her. She tried not to let that bother her. If Bill was showing this special attention, there had to be a reason. Either that, or she'd randomly had a dream with him. At this point, she wasn't sure.
A normal boy came over. "Why, hello!" he said. "And who might you be?" He did an extravagant bow (his suit didn't have tails, so it definitely wasn't the common style. That made her feel better) and looked at her with a grin and a wiggle of the eyebrows that probably didn't sit well with rich-person propriety. "You hidden little angel?"
Well, at least he didn't call her a flower.
"Camo," she answered with a grin.
He looked down at her suit knowingly. "Ah, a reference to . . . ?"
"Actually, the suit is more a reference to the nickname."
She talked with him a little longer (his name was Dominic, apparently) but eventually found an out of the conversation and they wandered away from each other. Camo spotted Mabel and Candy flirting with a boy, so she walked closer to see what was going on.
". . . if you were a boat, do you know what kind you'd be?" Mabel asked. "A dreamboat. That's what kind."
The two girls started to argue in front of the very confused rich boy, and Camo rolled her eyes. He edged away, and then Grenda came over and cleared her throat at them. They both looked guilty, so she guessed that they'd broken some deal, probably to do with flirting with that boy.
This was so boring. She wished Dipper hadn't left.
So, she wandered away. Pacifica hadn't shown up, which felt a little rude, since there was literally an ice sculpture of her as a mermaid. Still, Preston eventually tapped on a glass for everyone's attention. "Thank you all for coming. I think we can all say this party was a rousing success."
That one basketball guy said, "I guess you could say it was a slam dunk, Preston."
"Yes, yes, I guess, sure. A toast . . . to our family name!" His glass shattered, and the ghost's derisive laughter was heard. "What?!" Everyone's cider glasses broke, making Camo glad she hadn't grabbed one, because that would've stained her jacket for sure. The fireplace flared up and, for the second time that evening, she found herself looking for an improvised weapon.
Nothing. She'd have to settle for running for now.
She dashed through the crowd with some difficulty, as nobody wanted to move and almost nobody had realized running was a good idea yet. She skidded around a corner and into a hallway, hopefully far enough away that whatever bad things were going to happen weren't going to happen to her.
No weapons in this hall, either, unfortunately.
"Generations locked away," the ghost's booming voice was heard. "My revenge shall have its day." She heard screaming, and saw some people running, so she figured she probably wasn't far enough. She slammed back into movement, not stopping until she found something to fight with or until she couldn't hear the screams anymore. She didn't even know what they were screaming about, which sucked.
She had an idea. The room behind the painting! She'd probably be safe there!
She ran for the room, ducking inside. Both Dipper and Pacifica were already in there, the latter depressedly flickering her flashlight. "The ghost is turning everyone to wood," Dipper said, "and he just started rhyming for some reason. I need your help."
"Wait, people are being turned into wood?!" Camo yelped, her eyes wide. Jason.
He nodded frantically. "Come on, Pacifica!" When she didn't react, he hesitated. "Pacifica?"
"You wanna know why this room was locked up?" she asked them, her voice breaking. She lifted the flashlight. "This is what I found in here." Paintings. Stealing money, tricking the natives, a mad scientist, and somebody on animal corpses. "A painted record of every horrible thing that my family's ever done. Lying, cheating, and then, there's me."
Camo felt like she was missing something.
"I lied to you just because I'm too scared to talk back to my stupid parents." She took off her diamond earrings and threw them at a painting of her parents. "You were right about me. I am just another link in the world's worst chain."
"Pacifica, I'm sorry about what I said earlier, but just 'cause you're your parents' daughter doesn't mean you have to be like them." She looked hopeful in her teary eyes.
Camo asked, "Um, what did I miss here?"
Pacifica wiped her eyes. "I-I lied to Dipper . . . and you, I guess. We could've just broken the curse if we let the townsfolk in," she admitted. Camo felt like shouting at her, but she guessed Dipper had already beaten her to it, so she swallowed the emotion down and calmed herself.
"It's not too late," Dipper reassured her.
"It's too late!" the ghost said.
"Oh, no!"
They ran out to the terrifying sound of the ghost saying, "You are all wood!" All three kids screamed. The entire Northwest Mansion, and all of the people inside it, had been turned into wood, with vines running willy-nilly. Candy, Mabel, and Grenda were frozen screaming at each other. That kid Dominic was clutching his head, as if trying to block out the screams. Jason was frozen, too, and her heart just about broke when she saw him.
He had been looking over his shoulder with a worried expression. Not towards the ghost, his posture said—his pose told her he'd been whipping his head back and forth, scared . . . for her. He'd been looking for her. She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, but she shoved that emotion away, too, and willed herself not to cry.
She couldn't cry now. Dipper and Pacifica needed her. She couldn't cry.
The ghost hovered by the fireplace, staring at it ominously. Dipper narrowed his eyes and ran for him. Camo, unsure of what he was doing but blindly trusting him anyway, followed him. They ran up onto a table, and he stood on it. She finally spotted something that could work as a weapon in a pinch—a partially broken glass! She grabbed it and stared at the ghost challengingly.
"All right, ghost," Dipper said. "Prepare to get—" He held up the dish on the table, but the ghost shot a blue laser that knocked the Journal away. "No! Wait!" The ghost prepared to shoot again, and Camo squeaked, ducking under the table and panting slightly. She heard him freeze as he screamed, and she shivered.
The clock gonged. "A forest of death, a lesson learned," the ghost said. "And now, the Northwest Manor will burn!" She felt the heat, and she peeked from under the tablecloth to see the massive portrait on fire. Fire . . . everyone who had been turned into wood would be ash forever.
She couldn't let that happen!
"Pacifica!" she screamed. "Open the gates!"
She shoved herself out from under the table to shoo her away, towards where she needed to go. She felt the ghost laser hit her, she felt herself slowly turning to wood. Her face set determinedly, she nodded to the rich girl.
Hopefully, her suit could survive getting turned into wood.
Everything went black.
Camo gasped as she returned to normal. She looked at herself, moving, just to be sure, then jumped up and cheered. "YES! YOU DID IT, PACIFICA!" she screamed, running over to the rich girl and hugging her tightly. "You did it!"
The ghost had a message to share with her, though. "Pacifica, you are not like the other Northwests. I feel lumber justice." He rose into the sky, into the sunlight streaming down, and he evaporated, letting the axe in his head fall to the ground. It was a dramatic, confident moment . . . at least until there was a rumble and the townsfolk rushed in.
They immediately started eating all the food at the buffet table, Manly Dan jumped in the cider fountain, McGucket danced on a table, Tyler Cutebiker placed a fork in the wrong position, and the girls made up. Most hilariously, Grenda's rough flirting style earned her a date with a baron from Austria. Dipper and Pacifica were getting along, and . . . then there was Jason.
She smiled at her boyfriend, who shyly returned it. Then she figured, what the scuff, so she charged towards him and gave him a massive hug, similar to the one she'd given Pacifica. She smiled and held on, feeling his arms wrapping around her after just a second's hesitation. "I was terrified for you," she informed him. "Seeing you turned into wood freaked me out, you adorable dummy."
"I . . . I was scared when I didn't see you earlier, too," he admitted, turning a little pink. But then again, when was Jason not blushing?
She smiled at him. "I know."
She didn't think she was one for love, at least not yet, but something about Jason just wouldn't let the smile leave her face. He was just so cute, especially now that she was looking for it. "Thanks again for the—" She looked down at her jacket and gasped in horror. After all her work trying to keep it clean, her dive under the table had stained it with cider and a bit of broken glass. She mourned for the loss of the wonderful coat.
He laughed loudly, especially for him. "Oh, Camo, I know you too well for that. It's the durable stuff. It'll survive."
She cheered and hugged him again. "You're the best!" It didn't feel like enough. He was awesome, too awesome for one hug, or even two hugs. Shutting her eyes and quelling all her thoughts telling her this was a bad idea, she kissed him.
She'd never kissed anyone before, except for her family, and especially not on the lips. It was quick, and though she'd heard rumors of tongues being involved (eeeeeew), they didn't hold it long enough for that. It was still wonderful, and memorable.
When she pulled back to look at his face, he looked a little like a fish, staring at her in shock. She giggled slightly, feeling her bright red cheeks, and she practically ran away, embarrassed. Still, a glance over her shoulder told her that Jason understood and wasn't offended.
She didn't deserve him. Not one bit.
She ended up making her way to Dipper, who was talking to Old Man McGucket. "Whoo! Scoobiddy doo! Hornswaggle my goat knees!" one of them said, and if you didn't know which of them it was . . . well, you were crazy.
"Whoa, what's up, McGucket?" Dipper asked.
Suddenly, the old man grabbed him. Camo's instincts kicked in, and she followed them to a shadow. McGucket seemed distrustful of her, but then he almost seemed to realize something, probably recognizing her. He dragged her, too, and then he said, "Dipper! And you too, I guess. I been lookin' for you." He pulled out those glasses he'd grabbed in the Society of the Blind Eye's hideout, with the one green lens. "I fixed the laptop. I've been doin' calculations, and I think something terrible is comin'. The apocalypse. The end times."
Dipper sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know what, McGucket. How about we talk about this stuff tomorrow? It's a party. Let's have some fun for once, huh?" He walked away.
Camo wasn't that dumb.
"What's going on?" she asked worriedly. She knew he wouldn't talk to them if he wasn't sure. He pulled out the laptop and showed her the countdown: Imminent threat. 21 hours on the countdown.
"Somethin's comin'," he told her. "Somethin' big. An' it might have to do with Ford."
Her breath hitched.
So . . . about the lovey-dovey stuff . . . I've never written (or experienced) romance before, so tell me: is it too much, not enough, too sappy, dumb? I really don't want to be pegged as that one person with the overly dramatic romance scenes, okay? So be brutally honest with me, I don't care.
. . . you know what's next. :)