Save the Manatee!

(Tuesday, June 9, 2015)

7: The Problem of Imprinting

Wendy had been right about the flood of tourists. Dipper had never worked as hard in his life as he did in the gift shop, smiling until his cheeks hurt as middle-aged couples and their teens, or young couples and their toddlers, or grandpas and grandmas with a mix of both, lined up with the most absurd, overpriced junk he could imagine, and he cheerfully took their money.

He began to understand Stan's very peculiar genius: He'd been a flop as a salesman because as a young man he hadn't learned the true trick, the one he'd shaped and polished when he took over the Shack.

In the end, he was selling . . . himself!

And his boisterous, rough charm was what had allowed him to make enough money over the years to repair the Portal and retrieve his brother. Soos, now Mr. Mystery, was different—he believed in the Shack. Really believed in it.

Not as a place of true mysteries—the mermaid was still a monkey's torso sewn onto a fish's butt—but as a place where dreams are born. The big guy's approach was that of a man-child, awake to wide-eyed wonder, and he communicated that to the tourists he took out on the Mystery Trail. And Wendy was so laid-back and friendly that the visitors fell into the mood. Soos didn't have to con them. They conned themselves, joyfully joining the game of make-believe.

So, when Dipper sold a genuine good-luck horseshoe going back to the 1500s and originally nailed to the hoof of magician Dr. John Dee's horse—and it was actually a worn-out, used shoe collected from a horse farm in Redmond, one in a batch Stan had bought by the hundredweight—when he sold it, he always told the buyer, "When you nail it up over your door, make sure the curve is downward. That'll hold the good luck in!" And the purchaser would thank him, or laugh, or look impressed, and never think to question the fifty-dollar price for what was essentially thirty-five cents worth of scrap metal.

That morning Dipper made that very sale, and two customers down the line, a guy had complained, "I really wanted that horse shoe! I'm real interested in the magicians in Queen Elizabeth the First's time!"

"Well," Dipper said, "a horse has four feet, you know! Miss Corduroy? Are there any John Dee's horseshoes left in inventory?"

"I'll go check, Dipper!" Wendy vanished through the Staff Only door, then reappeared, shrugging. "Just the one we have nailed up, dude!"

"Could I buy it?" the man asked.

"Um—I don't know. Mr. Mystery thinks a lot of it!" Wendy said.

"I'll pay anything!"

Dipper pretended to ponder. "Um—Miss Corduroy? I think Mr. Mystery was planning to replace it with that other good-luck charm, wasn't he?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "You're right! Uh—would you go a hundred bucks?" she asked the mark.

"You got it!"

"'Cause I might be getting both Dip and myself in trouble . . . but, OK, if it makes you happy. Just a sec."

She went back, took another shoe out of a basket full of them, stuck a rusty, bent nail (half a dozen were nailed into a balsa-wood block) through one of the holes, counted to twenty, and then came back out. "Pried the nail out myself," she said, handing the shoe to the customer. "Hundred bucks, Dip!"

And the happy rube turned over five twenties and scuttled away with his treasure.

When the morning rush slacked off, Wendy came over and high-fived Dipper. "Hey, dude," she said, "if your career plans fall through, you and me can go on the road as con artists!"

Mabel, still pink, came from the snack bar, looking frazzled. "Anybody want lunch?" she asked.

"Got any food left?" Dipper asked her. "Soos must be setting records. He'll have to expand this place if business gets any better!"

"You think this is bad, wait until Friday and Saturday—oh, no, wait, we're off on Friday 'cause of the wedding. But weekends are crazy houses now!"

"You guys go while there's a lull," Mabel said, sliding onto the stool that Dipper had just vacated. She took the gift-shop cash register duty, Abuelita took over as clerk in the snack bar, and Dipper and Wendy had time to grab and split a burger. "Man," Wendy said. "OK, dude, time to get serious. Your ankle holding up OK?"

"Yeah," he said. "Fully healed."

"And my room's cleaned up, and I got the guys helping out a little at the house now, so tomorrow early—we run, right?"

"I've missed that," Dipper said. "Nature trail?"

"Perfect! Seven-fifteen on the lawn to warm up. Don't lame out!"

"It's a date," Dipper said.

The afternoon was marginally less busy. By six, when the Shack closed for the day, Dipper's brain felt numb, and his face ached from smiling. "Dad's not expecting me back until eleven," Wendy said. "So let's eat and get over to Gideon's house. I told him we'd be there 'round seven-thirty."

"I don't want dinner," Mabel groaned. "I wanna go soak in the tub and put on some of that sunburn lotion."

"Aah!" Dipper yelled in mock alarm. "It's the Shapeshifter! What have you done with Mabel?"

"Feels like it barbecued me," Mabel moaned. "OK if I go freshen up before we leave?"

"Sure," Wendy said. "Teek comin'?"

"No, he's burned worse than I am." It was true—Teek looked like a lobster ready to serve. He hadn't even worn his usual apron because the strap tied behind his red neck, and he couldn't stand the touch.

"I'm going to do the same thing as Mabel back home," he said. "And then I'm going to try to get some sleep. Thanks for the lotion, Wendy. It does help."

"My aunt Sally's recipe, man," Wendy said. "Never fails. It'll be better tomorrow, and by Friday, your burn will start to peel off."

"Great," Mabel groaned. "I'll go to Tambry's wedding looking like a snake shedding its skin."

While she bathed and anointed her burns, Dipper and Wendy had dinner with the Ramirezes. Harmony, barely a month old, was there, in Melody's arms. Little Soos kept pointing at her proudly. "Iddle sisser!"

Abuelita had prepared grilled chicken with chili-lime sauce, Mexican rice, and a side of zucchini, onions, chopped poblanos, and corn. Soos ate with his son on his lap, and Little Soos—who must take after his dad, Dipper decided—didn't need the airplane-is-coming-into-the-hangar trick, but ate whatever his dad chopped up for him.

Wendy and Dipper finished up, Soos excused them from cleanup duty—"You dawgs are on a mystery quest! Oh, hey, if you can rescue the manatee lady, see if she knows where I can get, like, a narwhal tusk. I don't mean killing a narwhal, dudes! But if there's one just layin' around on the sea bed somewheres, I could sell it in, like, a second!"

"We'll ask," Dipper promised. "But first, we're going over to see Gideon."

"Oh, well, tell him to expect big tips on Saturday! There's, like, a convention of supernatural-mystery fans comin' in from The Dalles. "

"Sure thing," Wendy said. "Hey, Mabes, ready to go?"

Mabel, still in short sleeves, had come in from her room. "Yeah. But, um—smelling this, I got hungry again. Do I have five minutes to eat?"

"Take ten," Wendy suggested kindly. "No need to get choked!"

Mabel quickly polished off a serving of chicken, rice, and vegetables, then ran back to brush her teeth and returned ready to roll.

In the car, with Dipper beside her in the front seat and Mabel riding shotgun, Wendy warned, "Don't get Bud Gleeful started about the Green Machine. He keeps offerin' to buy my Dart, and he keeps raisin' the offer—but I'm not finished with it yet!"

"Dad's real impressed by how you work on cars," Mabel said.

"I know, Mabes," Wendy said, grinning. Her bare arm was brushing Dipper's, and she thought to him, Lucky I was poor and had to get the worst car in the worst condition that I could find and then learn how to fix it!

—He would've liked you anyway, Lumberjack Girl. Everybody does.

Thanks, Dip!

"You guys!" Mabel complained. "I know you're using that telepathy thingy and cutting me out!"

"We tried to teach you," Dipper told her.

"Yeah, yeah. I've seriously got to try to learn it one of these days."

"Not sure it's something that can be learned," Wendy said. "We got it by jumpin' into Moon Trap Pond, and I don't recommend that."

"Don't you and Teek get any ideas!" Dipper warned. "Numina's not somebody easy to understand. She could've kept us prisoners for eternity. We just lucked out!"

"OK," Mabel said. "Me and Teek will only swim in the pool. Or in the lake."

"That's good," Wendy said.

Darkly, Dipper thought to her, —I'm not so sure about that.

The Gleefuls and their houseguest Ulva had already eaten dinner. Bud ushered them into the living room, where Dipper, Wendy, and Mabel sat on the sofa. Gideon came in first and greeted them. "Looks like the mumbo-jumbo stuff worked," he said. "Ain't changin' into a hairy monster now! That's a relief! Hey, Mabel, you are sure lookin' fine!"

"Thanks, Gideon," Mabel told him. "What's your secret to weight loss?"

He shrugged. "Oh, same-old same-old. Ease off on the carbs, 'specially sweets, lots of veggies and protein, and work out. I got a set of weights down in the basement, and I do cardio on a stationary bike. Ghost Eyes sorta coaches me."

"Ghost Eyes," Wendy said. "Don't see him around much. What's he up to?"

"Finishin' a business degree at the community college," Gideon said. "Workin' as a trainer at Brass Tacks Gym in Hirschville in the afternoons. He's reformed, like me. Wendy, he don't bear you any ill-will for hurtin' his arm—"

"I know, dude," Wendy said. "He came to the Shack once he got sprung from jail and apologized and then hit on me."

"What?" Dipper demanded.

"Nah, it's cool," Wendy said. "I turned him down, and we parted as not-enemies."

"So," Mabel said, "I like the way you're wearing your hair!"

"It's teen rebellion," Gideon said, but with a grin. Then he fake-whispered, "It really ain't! But I like the look!"

"How is Ulva doin', man?" Wendy asked.

"She's—well, she's sad all the time. Listen, friends, please be nice with her."

"I'm always nice!" Mabel assured him, too loudly.

"And, uh," Gideon continued, "be soft with your voices, too? She's like a little old half-tamed animal, and she startles easy."

Sounds like he's talking about a dog, Dipper thought. But he said nothing while Wendy assured Gideon they'd be restrained.

He left and came back holding the hand of a girl who looked to be about his age—thirteen—but she was thin, and though she wore a rather frozen smile on her lips, her gaze was anxious, her chin held low, here eyes seeming to look upward at the visitors, the eyebrows tented. It was the expression of an abashed puppy trying hard to wordlessly apologize for having displeased its master.

Wendy thought, and Dipper caught it, She's lookin' better. She was wearin' a thrown-away raggedy dress and one white and one black shoe that she found in the dump!

Now she wore a loose, baggy sweatshirt, dark gray, over black jeans. She was barefoot, though—her toes rather splayed, apart from each other. Dipper noticed and thought She's not really used to shoes. Those are the feet of someone who's almost never worn them.

Gideon settled her in the armchair and stood beside her, holding her hand. And—Ulva just looked at them.

"This is her," Gideon said proudly. "This here is Ulva, and I believe she saved my life."

Ulva perched as though on the edge of running away. The Gleefuls had had her shaggy hair trimmed—it was brown when clean, though oddly streaked with very premature gray—to a close, spiky cut, a little punky but also complimentary to her high-cheeked face. Her eyebrows were darker than her hair, her nose was straight, her mouth wide but thin-lipped. She had a solemn expression. Not a beautiful face, not even a pretty one, but one that a boy could easily learn to love. The feature that struck Dipper most—the eyes. Light brown irises, striped with radians that were nearly white—

Golden eyes. Beautiful eyes.

Eyes with a load of pain behind them.

Mabel chirped, "Hi, Ulva. I'm Mabel!

Ulva licked her lips nervously and in little more than a croaky whisper, she said, "You are with Gideon friends."

"We are," Dipper said. It wasn't true—they were acquaintances, at least he and Gideon were, but since Weirdmageddon, Dipper hadn't exactly hated the fake-psychic kid, who once had been the only boy that Dipper had ever fought against and bested. However, during Weirdmageddon, Gideon, driven by his need to be loved and his fixation on Mabel, had revolted against Bill Cipher's rule and had done his best, sacrificing his own freedom, to protect Mabel. And true to his promise, he had really, in his own unsteady, unsure way, tried to reform.

Wendy said, "Gideon works where I do, the Mystery Shack."

"Works." Ulva said the word as if it were one that she had never heard.

"Yeah, sweetie," Gideon told her, patting her hand. "See, we human folks can't go out and hunt for our food no more. So, we work, and we get what's called money, remember that? And that lets us buy what we need."

"Buy."

"She's still gettin' the hang of things," Gideon said in a stage whisper.

Mabel got up and went over to the chair where Ulva sat. Ulva cringed toward Gideon—but Mabel hooked over an ottoman and sat on that, next to Ulva, but on a lower level. "Hi," she said softly. "I love your hair like that. Can I touch it?"

Ulva flinched from her touch at first, but then relaxed a little. "Want to touch mine?" Mabel asked.

Ulva extended a tentative hand and stroked Mabel's thick brown hair. "I'm thinking of getting a shorter cut, too," Mabel told her. "Do you like your hair short like that?"

And Ulva actually smiled. She nodded. "Cool."

"Cool as in not warm, or cool as in attractive?" Mabel asked.

Ulva tilted her head quizzically.

Dude, Wendy thought to Dipper, she's just like a puppy!

Dipper said aloud, "Gideon, why don't we let Mabel and Ulva get acquainted? I think so many of us here make her a little uneasy."

They went into the Gleefuls' back yard, leaving Mabel and Ulva together. Bud had built a redwood gazebo there, and Gideon, Dipper, and Wendy sat on the circular bench inside. "Mabel's sure got a way," Gideon said.

"She's the best people person I've ever met," Wendy told him.

"Yeah, but—she tends to trust a little too easily," Dipper added. "She always thinks people are gonna be so good, and she's always so hurt when they aren't. Uh, no offense, Gideon."

"None taken," the blond boy said. "I reckon I was a real hellion back then. Trouble was, I'm smart, too smart for my own good. Too smart too young, I guess. All that psychic business, I shouldn't have done that. Went to my head. Made me mad with power." He shook his head. "And I still ain't got the knack of learnin' how to make friends."

Dipper grinned. "I feel you, bro!"

Gideon blinked. "Uh—thanks?"

"I'm a dork," Dipper said flatly. "I've got like zero social skills! I mean, I'm on the track team at school, I led the JV to a victory season—but I can't seem to make close friends. I think I always distrust them."

"That's surprising," Gideon said. "I thought you were a natural leader."

"Not me," Dipper said. "Mabel's too open. I'm too closed. It's weird, but—the one place that I truly feel at home is right here in Gravity Falls." He took Wendy's hand. "Here I kinda feel I can trust people. But I hear you, Gideon. It's hard to dig yourself out of a hole."

"That's some deep junk right there," Wendy said, squeezing his hand. Then, as if ready to change the subject, she asked, "So what's gonna happen with Ulva, Gideon?"

He looked unhappy. "I don't know. We can't keep her legally—I mean, she's got a mama out there somewheres. Lord knows where. So far, we ain't made a big thing out of it, but sooner or later the state's gonna start wonderin' who she is, why she ain't enrolled in school, stuff like that. And if she started school, she'd have to begin in first grade! She can't read or nothin'!"

"Sounds to me like you have to find her mother," Dipper said.

"Yeah," Gideon agreed miserably. "But it's gonna be so hard to say—goodbye to her. It ain't like you think. I'm not romanticizin' over her, the way I did with Mabel, 'cause I know it wouldn't ever work out. It's more like—don't laugh at me, please—it's more like I found a dog and rescued it."

"I can see that," Wendy said, with no trace of humor in her voice. "Gideon, you've done some growin' up. I apologize for kickin' you that one time."

Gideon chuckled. "Aw, I deserved that. Little punk too big for my britches! And I was pretty well padded, so it didn't hurt as much as you might think. But you know what? 'Scuse my French, but I believe an ass-kickin' did me some good."

"Yeah," Wendy said. "We can all use one now and then."

Half an hour passed, and then Mabel came out. She joined them silently, sitting next to Dipper. She put her head on his shoulder. "She's so sad," she told them, her voice breaking.

Dipper put his arm around her shoulders and next to him he felt Wendy stiffen for a moment, as if in surprise. "What did she say?" Dipper asked.

Almost whispering, Mabel said, "She thinks her mother must still be in the valley. A lone wolf—and that's the worst thing her people can be. They need the Pack. And she's so confused. Ulva has been in wolf shape for most of her life now. But she likes being human. She's got so much to learn, though—and she'll never make it on her own, not even with Gideon's help. Guys, she needs—"

"Her mother," Wendy finished. "All right. I say we help her. That's on our list for the summer, Dipper."

"I got it," Dipper said. "Gideon—you on board?"

"When you love a thing," Gideon whispered, his voice shaky, "set it free."

Utterly astonishing Dipper, Mabel got up, moved across to Gideon, sat down and hugged him, and let the younger blond boy weep on her sunburned shoulder.