3-Differenty but Samey

At ten before noon, Stan announced "Lunch! Back at one!"

"Cool!" Wendy said. "Let me change real quick." She grabbed a bag from beneath the counter and ducked out.

Stan came in, having removed his white lab jacket. He was wearing pants, for a change, but only a vest-type undershirt. He put his hands on his hips and bent his spine back, stretching. "Oy! I gotta find a way to get off my feet. What?"

"Uh, I'm going to lunch with Wendy," Dipper said.

"Yeah? Remember, kid, she really ain't eighteen." Stan winked.

"I know," Dipper said. "Uh—are you still looking for your brother?"

Stan froze and stared hard at him. "Brother? You nuts or something? Who said I had a twin? You're talking crazy!"

Dipper blinked. "Oh. Uh, sorry, I was thinking of something else, I guess."

"I got my eye on you, kid."

That made Dipper gaze into Stan's eyes. Nope, not Cipher eyes, just Stan's normal eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Let's go stuff our faces!" Wendy sauntered in, now wearing jeans and a green plaid flannel shirt, but instead of a trapper's cap she wore—a red Gravity Falls High Beavers baseball cap?

"Zeus said we could take the truck," Dipper told her.

"Neat! Let's go."

"Watch your step, kid," Stan warned.

"I'm not gonna eat him," Wendy said as they walked out.

They got into the truck. It smelled like motor oil. Dipper put the key in the ignition and stared.

"What, never drove a straight stick?" Wendy asked.

Have I ever driven anything? Am I eight or twelve?

"Um, we have an automatic at home," he said. "I didn't think—"

"Change places," Wendy said cheerfully. Dipper got out, she slid over, and then he climbed into the passenger seat.

She started the engine, put the truck into reverse, and neatly did a two-point turn. Dipper said, "Uh, by the way, you do have your driver's license, right?"

"Definitely not," she said with a grin. "Relax, man, I've been driving my dad's pickup since I was twelve. I'll give you a lesson or two later, if Zeus says it's all right. Where to?"

"Yumberjack's," Dipper said automatically.

"You mean YumboSnacks," Wendy said. "Good choice."

"I thought it was Yumberjack's—"

"It's a small town. You'll learn your way around before long."

"Thanks for driving."

"No sweat, man."

They parked in the lot of a place that, except for the sign, looked almost exactly like Yumberjack's, down to the red mushroom welcome sign and the faux giant axe embedded in the roof. Dipper hopped out and held the door open for Wendy, who said, "Thanks, Dipper!"

It had the same fried-beef-patty-mustard-onion aroma as Yumberjack's, and a very similar menu. They stood at the counter and Wendy ordered a YumOne (single patty, lettuce, tomato, pickle, hold the onion) and Dipper a YumFour (basically the same burger but with cheese). They ordered two Peachy Colas and a Big Bucket O' Fries.

Wendy led the way to a corner table in the back, away from other diners, and slipped into a booth. "Sit next to me?"

Dipper joined her, setting down the two drinks as she opened the bag and took out the burgers. "Um—this one's mine." She put his burger in front of him. "Nice to have somebody to have lunch with," she said.

The fries were good, crisp outside, soft inside. The burgers were just like the ones Dipper remembered—also good—and a Peachy Cola turned out to be identical to a Pitt's. "My pleasure," he said.

They munched their burgers and fries for a minute or two, and then Dipper said, "Could I ask you a question or two, Wendy?"

"Sure, man," Wendy said. "First, though, I'm so glad Staneley had you and Mabel come up for the summer. I knew I'd like you the minute I saw you. I'm gonna so enjoy goin' to a dance with somebody I haven't been going to school with!"

Dipper nodded. "Okay. What's Zeus's last name?"

"Hernandez," she said. "He's like part-United States, part-Mexican, but you can't really tell."

"What are Mabel's favorite hobbies?"

"Huh? She knits, and she plays the guitar."

"What's in the basement of the, uh, clinic?"

Wendy blinked. "There's not a basement, Dipper."

"What's the . . . lamby dance?"

"No clue, man."

"What did we do in the convenience store?"

"How did you know about the convenience store? You weren't there."

"Then what did you and the others do there?"

"Nothing, man," Wendy said, looking nervous. "We couldn't get in. Bobby thought he could pick the lock, but he couldn't. So Thompson drove us to the lake instead and we just goofed off and, uh, borrowed a boat to cruise around for a couple hours."

"No!" Dipper said. "Don't go on the lake at night! There's a monster—"

"You're kinda scaring me, dude."

"Let me tell you about how messed up my head is," he said. For ten minutes he talked. To his relief, she didn't interrupt or look mad or even dubious until he finished, ". . . so Mabel and I are really twins in my memory, but here I am looking eighteen—"

She put her hand on his forearm. "You look good, man."

He gave her a weak smile. "Thanks, but somehow or other, everything's got scrambled. I don't know, maybe I'm crazy. But in my Gravity Falls, this place is called Yumberjack's, and Grunkle Stan's place is a tourist trap, not some kind of—witch-doctor clinic. And I'm really twelve."

She patted his arm. "Weird, man. For what it's worth, I don't think you're crazy. This town, now—sometimes I think it's crazy!"

"Kicking around in my head," Dipper said, "there are these phantom memories. I don't know where they come from. Maybe I've got more than two dimensions in my brain. Somehow I think I'm twelve and it's June—that's this month where I come from—and at the same time, I remember your telling me you're too old for me—"

At that she laughed out loud. "Dude! Never!"

"But if I was twelve—"

"I'd have to think about that," she said.

"Anyway, you let me down easy, and then Mabel and I came back every summer and real gradually we, uh, you know—"

"Got to be a thing?" asked Wendy.

"Got engaged," Dipper said.

"Really?"

"Really. But it's like I'm twelve and eighteen at the same time, and maybe like fifteen and seventeen, too. Everything's mixed up in my head. And the Northwests' daughter—uh, here the Southeasts' daughter—anyway, she's here from somewhere else, too, but in her case there are two of her, and she's seriously out of place here. Mabel's taking care of her, but when we were here—as I remember it—Pacifica was really snooty and superior to Mabel, and Mabel didn't like her at first. Here, she's like some kind of waif whose dad threw her out."

"That doesn't surprise me," Wendy said. "That family—ugh! Rich, but so harsh."

"I probably shouldn't even tell you this," Dipper said. "I mean, if some of this stuff is in your future and I tell you about it, I might screw up your whole life."

"What's a lamby dance?"

Dipper felt his face glowing. "Never mind, it's not important."

Wendy touched his cheek, softly. "You're so much like a real mature guy and so much like a little boy! I guess I have to believe you. So what do we do?" When he didn't answer for a moment, she said, "You're not gonna mess up my life, man. I'll take responsibility for that."

Dipper looked at his watch. "We'd better leave."

"Yeah, I guess so. I'll drive us back and talk you through how to drive a manual transmission car. You watch me."

She did, explaining the clutch and how it and the gearshift had to be coordinated and how grinding gears was a no-no, and the complex system of clutch, brake, accelerator, while keeping track of neutral, first, second, third, and reverse gears and—

"Actually," Dipper blurted as they pulled into the Shack parking lot, "I don't remember ever learning to drive an automatic transmission, either."

They parked, Wendy shut off the engine, and without looking at him, she said quietly, " I have to say this now. When you seem young and older at the same time—man, you're making me have some serious feels, Dip. When we straighten this out—"

"If we can," he said.

"And if afterward we remember this—if here you're eighteen and I'm, you know, a little younger, would you, um. Would you wait for me?"

"As long as it would take," he said. They got out and at the door, with no one in the lot and no one looking out the window, he kissed her cheek.

"Dipper," she said with a sigh.

"For later," he said. "If we both remember."

They went inside, and Mabel yelled from the dining room, "Dipper! Did you bring us lunch?"

Wendy said, "Gotta change. You got this?"

"I'll try."

Elise and Mabel were in the dining room, eating what looked like quadruple-decker sandwiches. Dipper said, "Looks like you have lunch covered."

"Well, yeah, turkey club sandwiches, but when your taste buds are yelling for a burger and fries—you didn't tell us you and Wendy were going for a few nibbles."

"This is fine," Elise said.

"Your hair looks good," Dipper told her.

Mabel had evidently trimmed and styled it. The tangles were gone, and now her hair, though barely shoulder-length, looked sleek and full."

She gave him an odd look, grateful and at the same time a little fearful. "I want to go home," she said.

"This is so weird," Mabel said. "She looks so much like you-know-who, but she doesn't remember her family or even her house very well."

"She's not the only one feeling mixed-up," Dipper said. "I'm working on it, Elise. Wendy will help—"

"Ooh la-la!" Mabel cooed. "Doth methinks there is romance in the air?"

"She's too—young for me," Dipper said, nearly stumbling over the third word. "Listen, Mabel, something weird has definitely happened. I've got to figure out what's happened and find out how to fix it."

"Something weird?" Mabel asked. "You mean like, uh, the little guys?"

"The Gnomes," Dipper said. "Like that but more complicated. Hey, Mabel, remind me, did you use the leaf blower?"

"You know I did!" she said. "That's where I got my—" she reached inside her sweater and pulled out her favorite possession—"grappling hook!"

Elise blinked. "Grappling hook?"

"Sister, it comes in useful in all kinds of ways!" She aimed it toward the counter. "Want some mayo for your sandwich?"

"That never works," Dipper warned.

"I don't want any," Elise said, turning pale.

"Aww." Mabel stowed the grappling hook again, looking grouchy.

From the gift shop—no, waiting room, waiting room—boomed Stan's voice: "Look alive, people! Lunch break's over! When's my next, Wendy?"

"Mr. Jimpers, in ten minutes," Wendy said.

"Dipper! Front and center! I want to have a word with you!"

Dipper went back and Stan took him into the office and closed the door. "Kid, you owe me some explaining. How'd you know about Staneford?"

"It's hard to explain," Dipper said. "I—don't think I'm from this universe."

"Now you're not even trying to make sense."

Dipper closed his eyes. "Your twin brother had a science fair exhibit. You accidentally broke it. Your father kicked you out of the house. He became a scientist specializing in the paranormal. This used to be his house. There's a basement with his labs in it and years ago he disappeared into a Portal—"

"I'm sending you home," Stan said flatly.

"Don't do that." Dipper kept his voice calm. "I can help you. Look, you have one of your brother's Journals. I know where two more are."

"Huh?"

"You have Journal 1, right?" Dipper asked, trying hard to remember details. It was so fuzzy, more like the memory of a dream than anything else. "A kid in town has Number 2. I have—I think I have—Journal 3."

"I don't understand any of this."

"Don't send me back to California," Dipper said. "I think I really can help you."

A buzzer sounded, and Wendy's voice said on an intercom, "Mr. Jimpers is here about his rash."

Stan rubbed his chin. He said to Dipper, "I'll give you through the weekend before I make up my mind. You gotta prove what you said. Get out of here now." He pressed a switch. "Send Mr. Jimpers in. Oh, and bring me a jar of Conqueror Root Ointment and be sure to put it on his bill."

Dipper looked back from the doorway. "Is that a real diploma?"

Stan grinned. "I paid good money for it, and it comes from the leading witch-doctor medical school."

"The ointment?"

"Kid, everybody gets sick and then they get well, unless they die. This guy coming in, he's got a rash. The ointment makes it feel better, and then it goes away, and he thinks the stuff cured him. That's good enough."

Dipper went out passing a skinny little old guy who was scratching his chest like a dog chasing a particularly irritating flea.

Mabel was out in the yard. "Hey, don't go upstairs, Elise is trying to nap," she said. "She hasn't slept well in days."

"Mabel, do you remember where I put that Journal?"

"Where you did what with the which?"

Oh, great. "Didn't I think the Gnomes were a zombie?"

"No, but you saw me go off with Norman and came looking for me in the golf cart."

"You didn't see me find a book hidden in—"

"Nuh-uh."

"OK. Thanks."

He sat on the edge of the porch again, watching Mabel play with her turkey.

I'm gonna have to ask Wendy for help.

I hope I'm not getting in too deep.