Chapter 4: Pacifica Northwest's Day Off

Pacifica woke up. Of course, for her, waking up was a rather strong term. She had achieved consciousness, there that was better. She decided to use this consciousness to appreciate how warm and fluffy her bed was, as well as the lovely sensation of dozing. After a solid hour of indulgent appreciation, she decided she should probably get up. She stepped out of her canopy bed and looked around her room. A rich, soft carpet, her ornate desk where she did homework, her bookshelf, walk-in closet, and Sir Fluffy where the only things that occupied the rather vast space that was her room. Same old, same old. Still she thought of Mabel's reaction if she ever saw it. She'd probably freak out about how awesome it was, and insist they have a dance party. She'd definitely love Sir Fluffy. The thought put a smile on her face. She glanced over at the giant, stuffed bear she had gotten when she was 5. He had served her well through the harsh times, being her soft and cuddly hugging buddy. Nobody knew about him, it was her lovely little secret. She didn't even think her parents knew about it. They certainly hadn't been up to her room in years, and she highly doubted that they remembered it.

She walked into her walk-in closet to pick out her outfit for the day. She was going to the pool today, so obviously she would need a nice swimsuit. But she was faced with a quandary. She wanted to wear this great new t-shirt she bought the other day, but it was hot pink, and her favorite bikini was a deep purple. A bright color over a dark color in a place with lots of water was a bad combo. In the end, she decided to go with a cream-colored bikini, and wear the new shirt and a pair of jean shorts. She checked herself out in the mirror. Going a little more casual than usual, but it was a pool, and it did look great on her, so, really, no problems. She sat down at the vanity table to apply make-up. Nothing too showy today, just some waterproof cover-up and she was looking good.

She went down to the kitchen, asking the chef to surprise her for breakfast (it was really more brunch at this point but whatever). He made her a delicious-looking omelet. "Tasty, but light enough that it shouldn't bother the lady's stomach at the pool."

Pacifica smiled. "Thank you, Jacques." Her father always said that they shouldn't bother with thank yous, as the servants were already paid to do these things, but she knew how much a sign of appreciation would be… appreciated (summer had taken her brain already it seemed) for people who had to deal with the likes of her family.

"It is my pleasure, my lady," he bowed, leaving her to her meal. She ate it slowly, both to savor it and to give her time to think about the… difficult task ahead of her. When she finished her meal, she glanced up at the clock. Her parents should be in the den right around now. Joy. She contemplated talking to them after going to the pool, but, it would be for the best if she did it now.

She walked slowly through the mansion, going over in her head what she would say, how she would say it, and their likely responses. Hopefully, this would go smoothly. She walked into the den.

"Mom? Dad?" she asked. Her parents looked up at her, Mom from a book she was reading, and Dad from signing papers.

"What is it, Pacifica?"

"I was wondering, would it be alright if I slept over at Tiffany's house on Thursday?"

"Which one is Tiffany again?"

"The black girl? Her dad's the principal of our high school?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Stevenson. He's a reputable man."

Pacifica tried not to let her disgust show. She hated when her dad used that word. Reputable. He never said someone was good, or decent, always reputable. It didn't matter to him what kind of person they were, all that mattered to him was what they had and what they had done. Mr. Stevenson was actually a fairly nice guy, but that made not one lick of difference to her father.

"Hmmm, you went out yesterday, you're going to the pool today, and now you want to go to somebody's house on Thursday?" her father spoke. "You seem to be going out quite often recently."

"Well, I am building relations with my peers, that's important," she responded.

"You're going to the pool today? In that?" her mother asked, making a face.

Pacifica looked down at her outfit. Did she look bad? The jean shorts did make her look kind of like a hillbilly. No, wait. She had to remember how she had felt about this outfit. She had thought it looked great. She wouldn't let her mother's opinion get in her head. Still, it would be nice to get her mother's aprroval… No, she didn't need approval from someone like her mother.

"I like this outfit, Mom. I think it works for a casual summer day."

"You're not supposed to be casual, Pacifica. You're supposed to be better."

Pacific gritted her teeth. The conversation was not going smoothly. "I understand that, Mom. But if I wear my nice clothes, they might get pool water on them," she replied, hating herself. Once again, she had to belittle her own clothing choices to suit her mother's choices.

"You can always buy replacements."

"Now, now, Priscilla, saving money is earning money," her father objected. "As for this sleepover, young lady, I suppose you can go. But keep in mind the freedom I'm allowing you to have. I do not want to hear any more of the lip that you've been giving us lately."

Pacifica stared at her father's suit pocket. It sagged with a slight weight. "Of course. Thank you very much, Mom, Dad."

She left the den, breathing a sigh of relief. She had made it through another conversation with her parents. She hated this. What kind of household was this? What kind of child got gray hairs over just having to talk to her parents? Her, that's who. The Northwest family was fucked up, and had been fucked up for its entire history, and she was just on the receiving end of all of that general fuckery. Fuck.

She liked swearing at things in her head. It was incredibly cathartic. Not a single profanity ever made it past her beautifully-glossed lips, but in the confines of her head, it would make a sailor cry. Of course that sort of dissonance of what was in the head to was shown skin-level was really her trademark at this point. The only single person who had ever seen her cry in ten years was Sir Fluffy. She would keep it at that. She, for whatever cosmic reason, had been the one to inherit this fucked-up name. She alone would fix it. She had been bearing it alone all her life up until this point, and her pride as a globally-ranked minigolf champion would allow nothing less than par for the course.

She stepped out of her limo and onto the curb. She looked around, and saw her friends. Brad, Dylan, Tony, Tiffany, Veronica, and Melanie where the ones who could make it today. They were all there, but that made sense, since she got there not a minute early. A Northwest waited for nobody. "Hey, Pacifica!" Tiffany greeted her.

"Hey, guys," Pacifica greeted.

"Now the party can get started!" Dylan cheered.

She smiled. Hadn't heard that one before ever. Creativity wasn't Dylan's strong suit. But that was alright, he was a member of the cool table. Smile, act like everything everyone said was brilliant while you murdered them in your head. That was how you did it in the bourgeois.

"Since everybody's here, let's just head in," she suggested, walking forward to the pool. As soon as she passed them, they all followed behind her. She led the pack. They walked to the door to the pool. The pool didn't usually open until later in June, when it got hotter, but the Northwests had benefits. She walked right up to the gate to see where Mr. Poolcheck was. He was at the lifeguard seat, doing crunches off of the side of it. That was… creepy. "Excuse me," she called.

Poolcheck immediately sat straight up and fixed her with an unwavering stare.. "You're late, Ms. Northwest."

"Excuse me?"

"You are late," he repeated. "I was informed you would be here at 12:00 PM. But you are here at 12:02 PM."

"That's pretty close," Tony bravely pointed out.

"Close? I was close to having my hand out of the way, and look where that got me," he snapped, pulling off his artificial hand. Everyone shivered. There was no one in Gravity Falls who hadn't seen him do it at some point, but it was still disturbing every time.

"Can you let us in regardless?" Pacifica asked.

He walked over to the gate and opened it. "Ms. Northwest," he began. "While your family is of far too much importance for me to inflict any punishment on you or your friends, know this. I will be watching. And I will remember all misdemeanors. All of them," he growled.

Pacifica nodded wordlessly, as did the rest of her friends. There was nobody in Gravity Falls who dared to rebel against Mr. Poolcheck. Confidence, stature, none of it mattered in the face of… whatever the hell he was.

He stood off to the side, allowing them entrance. They hurried over to the pool, careful to do so without actually running. "That guy seriously creeps me out," Veronica muttered. "Can't your family do something about him?"

"It's not like the pool is affiliated with us financially," she responded. "And nobody in their right mind would try to strongarm that guy personally."

"Whatever. As long as he doesn't try to check PC out, we're good," Brad spoke up out of nowhere, turning to smile at her. "That's my job."

"Speaking of creeps," Veronica muttered. Pacifica laughed.

"Brad, if that's your job, then let me tell you, you are not in position for a promotion," she told him.

A collective "Ooooh" was chorused by everyone present. "Is it because I'm not putting in enough time?" he "flirted". "Don't worry, I'll get right on that."

Oh my god, what a douchebag. If he hadn't been keeping this up since freshman year, Pacifica would have assumed it was some kind of joke, but no, he was just really fucking creepy. Who thought going from "Mr. Poolcheck" to "flirting" was even a remotely acceptable transition? "Please don't," she advised.

He nodded and grinned at her, like she had just made a good move in a game of chess. Wait, did he think she was being coy? What the fuck? She literally just told him to stop, in front of their entire friend circle. Would she have to actually stab him in order to get the point across? Actually, that had its merits, and she could, as a Northwest, probably brush it under the rug… But why deprive the sexual harassment PSA business of such a promising actor? She had a better idea.

"The water looks cold, Brad. Could you test it for me?" Pacifica asked sweetly.

"Sure thing, PC." He walked over to the pool edge to test the water. One swift kick in the ass later, and he was testing the water with his entire body.

"How's the water?" she asked.

"Fine," he grinned, surfacing. "It would be better if you joined me though."

Well, he was determined. She'd give him that. His determination was wholly unappreciated, as well as completely unwarranted, but it was there. She would have actually found it commendable if it were dedicated towards something like curing cancer rather than trying to sleep with her.

"Nah man, I don't think Pacifica's going to go in now that the pool's that dirty," Dylan joked. Alright, Dylan redeemed himself a little bit with that one.

"You're hilarious, Dylan," Brad jibed while getting out of the pool. "But I'm sure PC doesn't mind getting a little dirty," he added with a wink.

There was a moment of silence.

"I think he just called you a whore," Veronica observed.

"What? I-I did not!" he blubbered.

"You kinda did, dude," Tony asserted. Brad opened his mouth to argue. "Just let it go, man."

"You really know how to charm a lady, Brad," Pacifica mocked. Brad's shoulders slumped, the pressure of social disapproval finally weighing down upon him. Once Brad had stopped talking, everyone put their things down. Pacifica walked over to take her rightful place at the best seat at the pool. The pool was devoid of anyone else, so it lost some of its advantages, but she sat there anyway. It was the principle of the thing. What was a queen without her throne?

She stripped down to her her swimsuit and started applying sunscreen. Ignoring Brad's male gaze, she moved on to her second layer of sunscreen. It was a little weird, applying several layers of sunscreen at once, but she was not risking permanent skin damage for anything. Freckles, burns, or, God forbid, cancer would be ruinous. Besides, everybody knew better than to tease her about it. She turned to where everyone else was sitting. "Can someone who isn't Brad get my back for me?" she asked.

Tiffany skipped over to her. Pacifica handed her her sunscreen and turned her back, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "So," Tiffany started, rubbing the lotion on her hands. "What do you think of Lucci's summer line?"

"I don't know if I like it," Pacifica noted, mentally tensing up as Tiffany brought her hands closer. "They were going for a more simple, classic look for this line, and I mean, I can respect that, but you know me, I prefer to go bold." Tiffany placed her hands on Pacifica's back. She made sure she didn't flinch, but fuck, that was cold. What was it about sunscreen that it had to feel freezing at room temperature?

"Totally," Tiffany agreed, unaware of her plight, making sure the ice-cold liquid was even across her back. "I mean, like, I'd wear that stuff to like, a picnic or a family reunion or something. But I need something that's going to cause heads to roll too."

Pacifica hummed in a vaguely agreeable manner. She distinctly remembered Tiffany thinking that the spring line (which was disturbingly similar to the summer line, now that she was thinking about it- What were the people at Lucci even doing?) was "insanely cute". Which meant she was just adjusting her opinion to Pacifica's. Pacifica rolled her eyes. She could not believe how much these people conformed to her. Get a backbone already.

No, that was wrong of her. It's not like she hadn't bashed her two best friends last week. Chiding other people for being two-faced didn't make her any less two-faced herself. Just because she was aware of the problem didn't mean she was better than them. If anything, it made her worse than them. But still, it bothered her that none of them were genuine. Not that she planned on being genuine with them either. Wow, she was a hypocrite.

"Done!" Tiffany declared. "Three layers, just like you like it!"

Pacifica turned around, smiling her gratitude and taking her sunscreen back. She dropped it onto her chair, and sat back down. "You're not hopping in?" Tiffany asked.

She shook her head. "If I don't wait, all of it will just wash off," she explained, trying to not sound exasperated. Tiffany liked to ask questions she should already know the answer to, and Pacifica was starting to lose patience with getting her caught up.

Tiffany nodded very quickly. "Oh, duh," she replied in an appeasing tone, implying that Pacifica had failed in her efforts. "I'm so dumb sometimes."

Pacifica didn't bother to confirm or deny that statement. "Go ahead and jump in. I'll be fine on my own."

"Brad hasn't gotten in the water either."

"On second thought, would you stay here?"

Tiffany giggled. "You know, I'm sure he's not that bad. I mean, yeah, definitely coming on a little too strong, but y'know, he's pretty funny, he's certainly good-looking, and most importantly, you've already got him wrapped around your finger."

"Yeah, I mean, that's all true, but, ugh, just dealing with him is just… no thanks, you know?"

Tiffany hummed in thought. "Yeah, besides, it's not like you don't have your own pool of guys to pick from at your leisure."

"Right, I can certainly find someone better than Brad," Pacifica agreed. Or better yet, she could find nobody at all. She had no plans to get an a relationship as intimate as a boyfriend would be. She didn't need anybody, and with her… personal issues, it would be far more trouble than it was worth. As far as her friends were concerned, however, she was just waiting for the right guy. "Not interested in a boyfriend at all" was not something a girl her age was allowed to say, for fear of being a freak. Emotional preferences know no societal gender rules, an imaginary Mabel chided her in her head. Sure, but a bunch of insecure teenagers from backwoods Oregon were not quite as open-minded as the girl who once married a pig and a goat.

She zoned back in to reality to find Tiffany was rambling abut some cute guy whose number she got at the mall. "Are you going to text him?" Pacifica asked.

"I dunno," Tiffany remarked. "You never want to be the first one to text, but if he doesn't text by the day after tomorrow then definitely."

Pacifica smiled to herself. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, just thinking of something funny," she replied. "I think my sunscreen won't wash off if I hop in now, so let's go."

"Yay!"

After a few hours of pool volleyball, gossip, and a few laps back and forth down the pool (her figure wasn't going to maintain itself) Pacifica found herself resting on her pool chair, the less dangerous rays of sunlight filtering into her. She flipped over to her back, getting a glance at her friends as she did so. One of her favorite aspects of this pool chair was that it was notably far away from all the other pool chairs, meaning that she did not have to engage in social interaction unless she wanted to. Which, right now, she didn't.

It wasn't that she didn't like her friends, they were just exhausting. Between Dylan's dumb jokes, Tiffany's complete unwillingness to think for herself, and Brad's… Brad-ness, and then everyone else throwing in their inane thoughts and opinions, it was really stressful to not flip her lid completely. That's why she enjoyed the seat, it was nice and quiet. No people around her, no parents, no immediate responsibilities or appearances to maintain, just her and the warm sunlight. She felt like she deserved it. Nobody dare trifle with a queen once she has rightfully taken her throne.

To: Dipper

9/25/12 4:32 PM

Pacifica: So how come you haven't texted me once in the month that you've had my phone number?

Dipper: No reason, just been busy

P: I see

D: I mean I'm not trying to avoid you or anything

P: Seems like you're avoiding me

D: I'm not, it's just, isn't it weird to just start talking to someone out of the blue? Like, just starting up a conversation at random is weird, right?

P: That is so you lol

D: What does that mean?

P: It means it is perfectly normal for friends to talk to each other, doofus. You don't need to get embarrassed about it

D: Noted, but I wanted to know what "lol" meant. Is it like a code?

P: And the laughter has quickly turned to disappointment. It means "laughing out loud"

D: Oh that makes sense. It didn't mean anything in any of the ciphers I know. Because it's just an acronym.

P: Just text me whenever you feel like it, and I'll text you whenever I feel like it. You need the experience, I think.

AN: Current aesthetic: 13 year-old Dipper not knowing how to text. I feel you man, I feel you. Anyhoo, middle of the range chapter this time, because, well, despite fashion being to Pacifica what science is to Dipper, I actually know nothing about fashion, and a lot about (fake nerd) science. Unequal treatment right there. It's a shame that I can't do Pacifica's hobby the justice it deserves, but I can't. My apologies. Next time, the big sleepover. Stay tooned!

And, as a casual aside, I have a Tumblr. I don't sell zit cream from it, but I do answer any questions, comments or concerns you might have, make *cough* 'witty' jokes, occasionally draw, and then reblog jokes and art from people who are significantly better than me at life. So, drop on by .com if you want to hang out with the cool kids. Hmmm, probably should've saved that line for a chapter for that didn't involve putting the 'cool kids' in a negative light. Well, the delete button is broken, so go big or go home!