13-Gladly Grimly

"I think this is his family's house," Wendy said.

"The mailbox says 'Gladly,'" Dipper said. They walked up the path and knocked on the front door.

A few seconds later a frazzled-looking woman answered the door. Oddly, she didn't speak but just stared at them with wide, rather wild, eyes.

"Mrs. Gladly?" Dipper asked.

She blinked rapidly and then almost whispered, "Yes?"

"We're looking for your son. Is Gershon home?"

She silently pointed up, then stepped away from the door and pointed toward a stair. "Top, left," she whispered.

On the stairway, Wendy stayed right beside Dipper. She asked, "What's the matter with her?"

"Her son," Dipper said. "He's moody."

The bedroom door was ajar. Wendy and Dipper paused outside it. From inside came a gurgling sort of mumble: "Lemme see . . . amulet of tele—what's that word? Telly-kin-esis. Huh. 'It can give one the power of moving objects with one's mind. Warning: It can promote nar—' dang it, whyn't you use words somebody could understand? Nar-ciss-ism. So what? Now what do I need—"

Dipper tapped on the doorjamb. "Gershon Gladly?"

From inside the room came a gasp, the sound of a book being closed hurriedly, and the swift opening and closing of a drawer. "Who's that?"

"I'm representing the Civic Institution of Gravity Falls," Dipper improvised. "We're coming in."

At first glance, Dipper thought Gershon looked almost exactly like Gideon. A pudgy, short kid with a snub nose and a bouffant blond hairstyle, he stood with his back against a desk. He was wearing a baby-blue jacket over an open-necked white shirt (no bolo tie yet, and no amulet) and he looked scared. "You're what now?" he asked.

"Is this him?" Dipper asked Wendy.

She blinked at him and then nodded as she caught on. "Yes, sir," she said. "That's Gershon Gladly."

"And you can identify him as the one you saw at the site?"

"Yes, I can." Wendy winked at him in a way that Gershon couldn't see. "And the others saw him, too. Four witnesses in all."

"What are y'all talking about?" asked Gershon in a tone of surprised innocence. "Witnesses to what, now?"

"You took a piece of civic property," Dipper said sternly. "We're here to get it back."

"Took? Widdle ol' me?" Gershon asked, making his eyes puppy-wide.

"Yes," Dipper said. "Return it and there's no problem. If you try to keep it, you're in deep trouble."

"Uh—I'm gonna need to see some ID," Gershon said, trying to sound tough.

Ah-hah. Finally his driver's license would come in handy. Dipper took out his wallet and quickly flashed it. The California license looked different from an Oregon one, and Dipper opened and then snapped shut his wallet so quickly that the kid got only a glimpse. "I don't want to have to call the police," Dipper said. That was absolutely true. Dipper really, really didn't want to talk to this dimension's equivalent of Durland and Blubs.

"I just don't know what you're talking about," whined Gershon. "If y'all will kindly just go—"

"Step away from the desk," Dipper said.

"What, this desk?"

Dipper sighed and turned to Wendy. "Miss, please call the Sheriff's Office and—"

"No, no, I'll do it!" Gershon moved away from the desk.

Dipper opened the top drawer. He said, "Miss, you'll witness that inside the drawer is a hardcover book, bound in brownish-red leather, with bronze corner protectors and on the front a bronze emblem in the shape of a hand with the numeral 2 engraved on the palm . This is the missing item. Gershon Gladly, I'm taking possession of this book in the name of the Gravity Falls government."

"Now, wait just a minute," Gershon said. "That there book is mine! I done found it!"

"Thanks to our witnesses, we know exactly where you found it," Dipper said. "The donor specified where it would be stored. The officials will decide what to do with it."

"But I need it!"

Dipper's mind raced. In my world, Gideon's using the Journal contributed to our finally beating Bill Cipher. If he doesn't have it, what happens in this dimension? Aloud, he said, "If you just need the information in the book, come with us and I'll copy it for you. But the actual book has to go to the proper authority."

"And if it doesn't," Wendy said sweetly, "he could always go to jail."

Gershon's face turned red with anger, and his eyes darted back and forth like a rabbit in a non-kill trap. "Jail? Really?"

"Your choice," Dipper said.

"I can watch you copy it? No tricks?"

"No tricks," Dipper said.

And half an hour later they arrived at the Copier Store, which advertised Open 24/7. Grumbling a little, Gershon forked over fifteen dollars to buy a card good for 300 copies. The book, Dipper already knew, ran only to about 220 pages, but the discount on the card meant that it still made the price cheaper than a page-by-page rate of ten cents.

It took a while, but at the end, Gershon had a stack of photocopies that he stored in a cardboard box that had originally held a ream of copier pages. "There you are," Dipper said very formally. "Take your copies home, and don't go prowling around the school again."

"Nossir," Gershon said, tucking the box beneath his plump arm and trotting away.

Wendy put her arm around his. "Man, you carried that off so well! When you make your voice so deep and all, you sound so sexy!"

"But you're still fifteen, and I'm still eighteen," Dipper reminded her—and himself. In his mind at least one twelve-year-old Dipper was going absolutely nuts at Wendy's words. Dipper could almost hear that one squeeing.

Late that night Grunkle Stan returned from wherever he'd been—he often was absent with no explanation—and Dipper handed over Journal 2.

"You mean I got the whole set?" Stan asked.

"I, uh, I've—OK, this information comes from the Author, not from me," Dipper said. "You need to, uh, tune the device—you know, down in the basement—and then there's a specific sequence of activation you need to do, and when you do that, Elise has to be present. And me."

"Why?"

"Because we've got to straighten out this mix-up," Dipper said. "I can't go on like this much longer. It's like I can't tell who I am. And if Elise and Pacifica ever met and touched, it would be a disaster. I'm not sure what will happen when you activate the machine, I mean, not in your world. I think everything will sort of patch itself. Your Dipper will kind of remember all the stuff that's happened, but maybe Mabel will forget she ever met Elise. And the other Dippers will still have, uh, mental echoes, but it'll be more like remembering a dream."

"Sounds rough," Stan said. "Like losin' a chunk of your life."

"The bigger chunk, the worse for us," Dipper said. "We need to hurry."

The next morning Stan had Wendy call every patient scheduled for an appointment over the next six clinic days. He had them reschedule, cramming most into the next day and the remaining ones into the week after. Then he printed out a sign for the waiting-room door: THE CLINIC WILL BE CLOSED UNTIL 6-26. IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, CALL DR. MEDDISIN, 555-8008.

"OK, kid," Stan said that morning. "I gotta get some, uh, fuel for the rig before I start learnin' all these moves. I'll be gone overnight. I'm trustin' you to make sure that nothing horrible happens here, understand?"

"Yes, Grunkle Stan," Dipper answered, feeling inadequate. No, wait that was the younger Dippers inside him. Or was it? "But please lay down the law for Mabel and Elise before you go."

"Will do." Stan put a hand on Dipper's shoulder and then said gruffly, "We'll get through this mess somehow. Uh, you—you did good, kid."

"Thanks."

"Ugh, don't say that! It's just a fact, it's not a compliment."

"OK."

When Wendy showed up for work, she was delighted to learn she didn't have to work for another five days. "But I'll still be paid, right?" she asked Stan.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't push me too far!"

"Grunkle Stan," Dipper said, "it's not like it's her fault. Your being away is important for the family. And Wendy, she's part of the Shack—I mean the Clinic—family, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, but I expect the place to be kept clean and orderly!" Stan snapped.

"Cool," Wendy said. "I can clean and cook! I do it for my dad and brothers, anyway."

"So she'll be earning her keep," Dipper said.

Stan nodded, but he had a sort of thoughtful look in his eyes. "Hm. You said the Shack. I like the sound of that—the Medicine Shack. If this don't work out, I think I'll change the name of the place! All right, I'm off. When Zeus shows up, remind him we got a pinhole leak in the water-heater line and have him fix that. And he's supposed to mow the lawn and put up some shelves for me—"

"We'll tell him," Wendy said. "You just go and do whatever it is you need to do!"

"OK, all right already," Stan said. "You two—you behave yourselves, now."

When he had driven away, Wendy said, "This is so cool! We'll have the place to ourselves for the next couple of days, anyway!"

"Not all to ourselves," Dipper reminded her. "Elise and Mabel, too."

"Yeah, but they sorta keep to themselves."

Dipper shrugged. "Mabel has lots of friends her age back home. I think she misses that."

"We got a long day ahead, Dip. What would you like to do?"

"Behave ourselves." He bit his lip. "Not really. I'd like to spend the whole time snuggling with you and kissing, but . . . we can't."

She sighed. "A girl can dream. Hey, there's a fair over in the next county."

"But we need to stay here to keep an eye on Mabel and Elise. And we don't have transportation."

"Betcha Zeus would take us in the truck. Or his Jeep! He also has a Jeep."

"We'd have to take Mabel with us. And make sure that Pacifica's not gonna be there."

"I don't think her folks would take her that far from home. And she'd probably think that a county fair is, you know, not her thing."

"Well . . . I think I've got a little money tucked away." He frowned. "Wait, wait. Yeah, Mom and Dad gave me a couple of hundred for the summer and I've hidden it from Mabel. If she hasn't found it and spent it."

"I'll help Zeus fix that leaky pipe and then we can have a day trip!" She clinched her fists and chanted, "Day trip! Day trip!"

They arranged things with Mabel. Zeus showed up and Wendy donned a pair of overalls—God, she was attractive in any clothing!—and in half an hour they had removed the faulty copper pipe and replaced it and checked it. Zeus was delighted with the prospect of a trip to the fair.

He drove home, got his Jeep, and Dipper rode in the passenger seat with Mabel, Elise, and Wendy in the back seat. Mabel led them in a rousing round of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer." They were down to three, and Dipper was hanging onto his sanity by a thread, by the time they parked in the fairground lot.

"Remember," Dipper cautioned Mabel, "if you spot Pacifica, get out of sight, quick."

"Pssht!" Mabel said, flapping a dismissive hand. "Bigbro, I got this! Look at Elise's camouflage!"

Mabel had used her makeover skills. Elise wore a loose green top, jeans, a baggy black cap covered most of her hair, Mabel had darkened her eyebrows and reshaped her lips with makeup, and she wore big sunglasses. "Pretty good," Wendy said. "But don't forget what your brother told you."

"I won't," Mabel said. "Come on, El-El! Let's find some hot guys!"

"I'm off to the Ferris wheel!" Zeus announced. "It's like flying, but in a circle! In a circle, dawgs!"

"Let's get a hot dog on a stick!" Wendy said.

As they headed toward the food stands, Dipper happened to notice a game. "Hey, Wendy, look up there!" He pointed.

It was weird, but when she spoke, he heard her voice as a series of overlapping echoes: "I don't-don't-don't know if-if it-it-it-it's a duck or-or-or a panda—"

To still the noise that existed only in his head, he asked, "You want one?"

"More than anything!" she said.

I can't do this!

Wait, I think I did, but with Mabel—

My noodle arms! I'll never hit—

"I got this!" Dipper said firmly. "Just let me take control."

"Sure," Wendy said. "I'll always trust you, Dipper!"

They approached the booth with its stack of milk bottles. It was a buck a throw. Dipper handed over the dollar, and the operator warned, "You only get one chance!"

Dipper hefted the baseball. "OK," he said to Wendy, "Just for luck, stand directly behind me, Wendy."

"You got it! Good luck, man!"

Dipper poised and let muscle memory, or his memory of muscle memory, or something, take over. He gauged the distance, looked straight at the operator, and said, "Keep your foot off the pedal, OK?"

The man looked surprised but took one step backward.

Dipper threw, smacked the stack of bottles, knocking them all down, and as he expected, the ball rebounded. He caught it, the impact stinging his palm.

"What's your prize?" the operator asked.

"That one!" Wendy said, pointing upward.

"Here you go, and—" the pitchman raised his voice—"the gentleman wins an animal of indeterminate species for the lady!"

Wendy hugged the panda-duck to her with her left arm and took Dipper's left hand in her right. "You're like my hero, man! This is the best present ever! I'm gonna sleep with it every night!"

"I'm glad I could get it for you," Dipper said.

But inside, all the assorted Dippers felt their hearts melting. No matter what fun they could have later, that moment was by far the high point of the day.