"Used to be one of the rotten ones, and I liked you for that.
Now you're all gone, got your make-up on, and you're not coming back.
Can't you come back?"

"Anthems For A Seventeen-Year-Old-Girl," by Broken Social Scene

Chapter 3 – Torn Memories

"Yuck!" Dipper Pines complained as he ruffled his fingers through his matted brown hair, "That stuff got everywhere!"

It had only been a few hours since his last paranormal adventure in the summertime getaway of Gravity Falls, Oregon. The teenaged detective had set off with his friend and co-worker Soos to seek out a supposed "flying monster" that was terrorizing their humble town. Amiss his research (which was promptly ruined by his clumsy, portly friend), Dipper discovered that the beast was in truth, a living, breathing pterodactyl straight out of prehistoric times!

As Dipper attempted to salvage the findings accidentally damaged by Soos, a blood-curling shriek interrupted the peaceful natural flow. He darted outside to see his Great-Uncle Stan ("Grunkle Stan" for short) staring up at the sky in a stupor.

Just moments before, the elder had helplessly watched as the same behemoth Dipper had been tracking swooped down and snatched away his twin sister's beloved pet pig, Waddles. The tiny pink speck squealed and cried out in horror as it was dragged away into the distance.

Just as Mabel was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the appalling news, Dipper stepped up to the plate and rallied the troops together in her name. Within minutes, the motley crew was packed into Soos's truck and ready to follow the dinosaur's trail of destruction.

Before leaving on the journey, the pint-size adolescent felt some hesitation weighting down within him. He briefly considered seeking out his angered crush and requesting her help. At the last minute, Dipper changed his mind, figuring that Wendy would mostly likely rebuke him, even if it was for Mabel's sake; the last thing he needed at that particular moment was to talk to a proverbial wall for ten minutes.

As the group drove onwards, Dipper looked back at the Mystery Shack, where Wendy manned the Gift Shop alone in their absence, with regret lingering in his heart. On second thought, he considered maybe giving his main squeeze some distance wouldn't necessarily be such a bad thing.

While searching for the missing pig, Dipper and his family discovered a series of catacombs hidden beneath an abandoned church just outside of town. Stumbling about in the dark, they discovered dozens of dinosaurs neatly preserved for millions of years in a form of super-sticky amber sap. As they explored on, the little explorer found out that the extreme summer heat had started to melt some of the gooey cocoons, releasing the deadly creatures into the modern world.

After retrieving Waddles and narrowly escaping the pterodactyl's razor-edged talons, the exhausted team made the long trip back home. As they followed the setting sun, Dipper shifted his weary head from against the side window and peered into the back seat. A simple smile formed on his face as he watched his great-uncle and sister nestled fast-asleep in each other's arms with Waddles wedged in-between.

He turned back around with the sweetened, yet all-too-familiar scene fresh in his mind. Dipper's thoughts quickly shifted to his wounded gingered friend. He had just watched as his sibling came inches away from losing her best friend, only to fight tooth and nail to get him back from his abductor. He focused on the "Wendy-eccentric" advice she had offered him earlier.

"Huh," Dipper pondered, questioning the serene wisdom hidden within the layers of off-the-wall natural silliness. "Maybe Mabel's right; I should forget about all of this fancy-schmancy stuff and just try to talk to Wendy. After all, she was willing to go to heck and back for a pig; I should do whatever it takes to make things right, even if I do get screamed at and cussed out for it…"

Upon arriving back at the Mystery Shack, Dipper leapt from the passenger's seat with a renewed sense of hope. Leaving Soos to wake up the others, he sped towards the Gift Shop entrance, only to stop at in front of the door. Dipper knew that he had to do this now, while he had his courage gathered. There wasn't time to clean up or to try to remove some of the ancient slime that had adhered itself across his body. He tried his best to make himself look as if he just hadn't fought off a gigantic flying behemoth and survived by the skin of his teeth.

Taking a series of short breaths, Dipper closed his brown eyes and opened the door, "Wendy, I –"

Confused by the silence, he opened them to see that no one sat behind the counter at the Gift Shop. Oddly enough, the entire room had been straightened up and neaten like a single soul hadn't entered the establishment that day.

Dipper made his way towards the swinging door leading into the living room and slightly held it open. "Wendy?"

No one answered him back.

With a dejected sigh, Dipper leaned back against the wall and sunk down to the floor. Shifting his head into his lap, the boy lowered into a calmed state, knowing that he had missed his chance, at least, for the moment.

Facing defeat yet again, Dipper rose to his feet and walked into the parlor. He silently moved past the still-half-asleep members of his family who didn't even notice the small dejected speck going by.

Heading upstairs, Dipper figured regardless of his disdain for it, he should probably take a shower in order to get rid of the remnants of the goo that he was coated with. With his luck, it would only be a matter of time before he started to attract swarms of insects because of the sweet-smelling substance.

On his way to the bathroom, Dipper noticed that the door of the attic-covered bedroom that Mabel and he shared was left wide open. "What the – "

His paranoia instantly raced at the unusual sight, "Before we left, I know I made sure that this door was shut…" Dipper slowly entered the room, carefully scanning every possible aspect for any sign of intrusion. After spending several minutes analyzing the scene, the nerve-wrecked young adult collapsed on his orange-covered bed and looked at his nightstand for some much-needed support.

The wobbly-wooden platform held what could easily be his most-treasured possession (even more so that the ruined Journal #3 that he always kept inside his vest pocket). A simple picture frame stood on top of the drawer, displaying an instant photo of Wendy and Dipper fast asleep in a heart-warming embrace.

After escaping from the dangers of the video-game worlds, the two unconscious adolescents were found by Mabel, who decided to capture the adorable moment with her trusty camera. Leaning on a wooden bench, the duo were positioned against one another. Their blue/white and brown caps were vaguely touching as their heads dipped downwards. Both teens wore a tiny smile on their blushed faces, like they were enjoying a sweeten dream together. Wendy placed her arm around Dipper and looked down on her pint-sized admirer, almost like she was keeping a watchful eye on her partner in crime. He rested his weary head against her broad shoulder, glancing upwards with great admiration towards his sweetheart.

Whenever Dipper felt lonely or depressed, he would lie in bed and study every detail of the image. The peaceful scene would always seem to bring about a sense of serenity within his fragile frame. When it was time to go on a dangerous mission, Dipper would gently kiss the likeness of his crush on her cheek for good luck.

However, the photo held an even greater significance to the thirteen-year-old. In spite of the entire world telling him otherwise, Dipper saw the snapshot as a symbol in which their experience was indeed real - when the bond he shared with Wendy was at its strongest. He reflected on what Mabel had said to him that day before giving him the beloved gift:

"THIS is your proof, Dipper! That it did happen somewhere, and maybe can STILL happen even here!"

Dipper let out a depressed groan as he thought of his sister's choice words, "Yeah, right…I'd give anything to have things back the way they were back then-"

His eyes widened as he noticed something incredibly amiss right in front of him. Dipper leapt from the bed in a bound of pure energy and snatched up the picture frame with both hands. He bought it to his face for closer examination.

The glass paneling had been violently smashed in. The cherished memento had been ripped from of its resting place.

Dipper's mouth trembled, but no words found their way pass his lips. Completely shunned by the sight, the upset teen fell back onto his bed as he tried to come up with a reasonable answer.

"Who – " he questioned, "Who would do such a thing? And why? It's just a regular picture; nothing valuable or extraordinary. The only person who thinks it's worth anything is –"

Before Dipper could finish his notion, his eye caught something else out of place. A white piece of paper was set exactly next to where the frame had stood. Without thinking twice, the confused child seized up the sheet and gave it a quick look-over:

"We need to talk.
If you want it back,
meet me later tonight at the Gravity Falls Lake.
Don't keep me waiting!"
-Wendy

Astonished, Dipper set the casing down on the table as he tried his best to take in the nasty surprise.

"Wendy…Wendy did this?! No, it couldn't be! She wouldn't do this!"

While Dipper's heart was breaking, trying to find any way to prove his gingered friend innocent, his mind impartially pointed out several key factors of evidence; all of which pointed straight in the redhead's direction.

"Well," he debated. "It is definitely Wendy's handwriting. Plus, she was the only one here all day…" Dipper shook his head in defiance, "But how would she know about the picture in the first place?" He thought of finding his bedroom door ajar. He could easily picture a scenario where his love snooping around his room while left all alone in the house, only to stumble upon his valued keepsake.

Dipper stood up as he made his decision. This had to stop. While he could easily understand Wendy's frustration with his recent actions, this invasion of his privacy had definitely crossed an uneasy line. After deciding to leave his irreplaceable brown and golden marked journal at home, he rushed through the open door and hurried back down the decayed staircase.

The youngster stopped in his tracks, wondering if it would be wise to let Mabel know what had just happen, but at the last second, decided against it, figuring that having the metal-mouthed girl bragging with countless "I told you so…" – 's would do anything but actually help in this situation.

Heading into the Gift Shop, Dipper went behind Wendy's counter and reached upwards on his tip-toes, taking the set of keys from the dangling hook set just above his head. He opened to the door leading outside and dashed towards the closest Mystery Cart. His hand trembled as he turned the ignition. Dipper adjusted the rear-view window, clasped his seatbelt shut, and took off into the dusk.

Despite the range of mixed emotions flowing within him, Dipper knew that there would only be one guarantee: however the night would end, chances were that it would be anything but good…

Arriving at the Gravity Falls Lake, Dipper noticed that the entire area was blanketed by a milky-white haze. He parked his Mystery Cart on the side of the Ranger's station, and watchfully wandered into the mist.

"WENDY?!" Dipper called out, using his cupped-together hands to amplify his usually quiet voice. The boy remained on his guard, truly unaware of whom or what might be waiting in the fog for him. However, the scariest thing to him was that of whatever horrid fate his companion had in mind for him. The sense of the lingering unknown nearly drove him to the brink of madness. His cautious mind couldn't fathom that the one person (next to his sister) that he would consider himself closest to would be hiding in the distance, waiting to enact a twisted plot of maniacal vengeance.

He reflected on all the experiences they had shared over the last few summer months, and found himself asking, "If everything was reversed, would I be putting Wendy through the ringer like this? Would I take her most precious possession and hold it hostage to prove a point?" He thought of the times where Wendy had inadvertently left him behind or chose to put that sociopath Robbie before him. Every single time, Dipper had pushed past his slighted feelings, always deciding to hold one truthful principle above all other things: "Deep down, Wendy would never purposely want to hurt you."

But with everything that had just happened, he started to question his self-imposed mantra. The mere hypocrisy of the situation caused a ball of nausea to form in the pit of his stomach.

"How much longer am I going to be punished for all of this?"

The vapor only grew thicker as Dipper reached the dock at the edge of the lakefront. He realized that it must have formed as the summer atmosphere mixed with the cool surface of the water. In between the white sheet, Dipper could make out a slender object floating out in the middle of the pond. Narrowing his sights to see a bit more clearly, he noted that someone had taken one of the smaller canoes out and left it deserted out in the remoteness.

All of a sudden, the unusual sight made him focus on the worst possible scenario possible, "What if something's wrong?" A circumstance played out in Dipper's mind, akin to his own personal picture show, in which Wendy had stumbled from her boat, only to find herself unable to successfully make it back onboard before succumbing to unconsciousness.

With the nightmarish image locked inside his head, Dipper looked around portside to see a smaller craft was tethered to the structure a few feet below him. He swiftly untied the rope binding the boat and blindly leapt downwards; Dipper had nearly missed the mark and slipped into the murky depths.

He paddled towards his destination in a breathless haste, hoping to the heavens that he wasn't too late to prevent disaster from striking.

Crashing into the lone vehicle, Dipper hopped from one vessel to the next. Moving from edge to edge, he cried out into the mist, "WENDY?! ARE YOU OUT THERE?! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!"

Suddenly, the overly-concerned admirer stopped in his tracks as a sinister notion came to mind. What if this was her revenge? Dipper could only imagine the fifteen-year-old with a twisted smirk on her face as she watched him freak out over nothing from a safe distance onshore. The wheels in his head started to turn as the diminutive sleuth examined the scene for clues.

"Hmm…" Dipper contemplated, rubbing his fingers against his chin. "If Wendy was here, she would have left something sort of trail behind; muddy boot prints, a few splashes of water; something!" Instead, all that was left inside of the boat was a series of torn-up shreds of multi-colored reflective paper.

"Huh…"

Dipper began to rise up, only to halt halfway when he realized exactly what he was staring at. He dropped to his knees and started to sort through the strips. In alarm, Dipper flipped the various pieces around until he was able to recognize a few clumps here and there:

A pink nose…

Rosy dimpled cheeks neatly dotted with light brown freckles…

Closed eyes marked with worrisome lines all along their edges…

Endless blots covered in green flannel…

"Oh…" he whimpered upon learning the awful truth. "Oh…nononono….."

Dipper ran his hands through the mounds over and over again, only to have it fruitlessly fall through his fingers. His lower lip trembled at the truth before him: Wendy had been on the tiny ship and made sure to leave her mark; the paper pieces spread through the base of the liner had been the photograph Dipper held dear to his heart!

"How…How could she do this…?"

Trying his best to maintain his composure, Dipper attempted to scoop together the countless pieces of the image together, only to find the task to be near-impossible to accomplish.

"It's okay…It's okay…" Dipper calmed himself, letting the sections of the torn memory fall to the ground, "I…I can make another one! Yeah! I'm sure Mabel would let me borrow her copy so that I can…"

As the teen narrated further to himself, he took in the reality of the situation at hand. Dipper sat with his back against the edge of the ship and lowered his head in doubt.

"But…what good would it do in the end? What's to stop her from doing this to the next copy and the next?! Wendy made her message loud and clear: the sweetened scene was nothing more than a faded recollection that she wanted to be deleted from existence.

Dipper covered his face with his hands as he attempted to thwart the tears rising to the surface.

"Oh…Oh, my Wendy…"

As he mourned, a strange, yet eerie sound broke through the peaceful natural atmosphere.

*WWHHRRLL*

Dipper spread his fingers and peeked out the openings of his hands, "What is that noise?"

*WWHHRRLL*

He turned his head around, trying to locate the source of the reverberation, only to have his sights blocked by the smog. The clatter grew increasingly louder with every passing moment…

*WWHHRRLL*

Abruptly, Dipper felt something (or someone) pull him backwards. He was nearly sent over the side of the boat. He pulled himself forward, twisting around to try to find what the strange sensation was.

*WWHHRRLL*

"What in the –"

A split second later, Dipper was yanked in reverse once again; this time, whatever had taken a hold of the lad refused to loosen its grip. He struggled to take a few steps forward in an effort to break free. Instead, he was jerked off his feet and into the frigid waters below.

Dipper kicked his way to the surface, releasing a startled, yet girlish "ARGH!" Even with the warm summer air, the Gravity Falls Lake had reached a freezing temperature during the midnight hours. Dipper tried to climb back into the boat, only to feel himself being held back. He dug his fingernails into the solid wood as he attempted to pull himself up. Dipper raised his head barely over the canoe's rim, only to gasp at the sight inside.

Wendy stood before him inside of the boat. The ginger crossed her arms as she silently watched her friend fight to stay topside. In spite of her trademark brown trapper hat covered her eyes, Dipper could tell that his crush's ice-cold green eyes were focused solely on him.

However, he noticed that there was something off about the lanky girl placed in front of him. With all of the time they had spent together, the obsessive compulsive detective studied and admired every square inch of his sweetheart, from the crown of red hair on top her head to the tip of her toes.

This Wendy seemed to be somewhat foreign to his well-trained brown eyes, almost like he was gazing up a sun-faded colored version of his livid co-worker. Dipper released his left hand and reached out towards her, "Wendy! Help me…please!"

Her smile widening, Wendy retained her stance and simply shook her head at her cohort's request for assistance.

*WWHHRRLL*

Dipper was tugged off the border as he was shortly dragged underwater; the last thing he saw before going under was the lumberjack sarcastically waving good-bye to her devotee.

"This is it!" he thought, "I'm going to drown out here!"

*WWHHRRLL*

As if by magic, Dipper was pulled from the beneath the depths and started to zoom across the surface of the lake.

"WHOA!" The waves painfully stung Dipper's body as he was ripped along at a dangerous speed by some type of invisible force. "STOP! STOP!" He coughed and choked as he fought to keep his head above water. To him, the experience felt like he had been wakeboarding in reverse and without any equipment

He tried his best to find out where he was heading, but the constant twists and turns of his predetermined path only left him dizzy and nauseated. Dipper saw from the limited vision on his left and right that his next stop was through a rugged patch of reeds sticking out of the chilly water.

"OW! OW! OW!" The battered boy attempted to raise his arms upwards in order to protect his body from being pummeled and paddled by the unforgiving sticks, having little or no effect in the matter. As he waved his arms in an attempt to change his path, Dipper's right hand came into contact with something incredibly peculiar: there was a razor-thin line positioned directly behind of his body. He followed the invisible cord to discover that this thing had somehow attached itself to his navy blue vest.

Dipper flailed his arms behind his back in order to unhinge whatever had been secured to him, only to cry out in pain as he was thrust against a jagged edge. Dipper moaned blow by blow as he was weaved around, crashing into a set of seemingly strategically placed rocks and boulders.

"OOF! Even nature itself has it out for me today!"

The last blow had sent Dipper spinning in circles, where he was able to catch a glimpse of his final destination: the metallic thread had been pulled onto the mainland and through a way-too-narrow gap nettled between two withered oak trees.

"I'm –" Dipper recoiled, "I'm going to be split into two if I don't do something – and quick!"

Once more, he attempted to remove himself from the deadly collision course, only to find that he was unable to remove the line from his clothing. However, Dipper formulated a new idea. "My vest!" he exclaimed. "I bet if I can get it off…"

He wiggled his shoulders in an effort to slither out of the vest, only to find himself getting caught up every few inches. Dipper could feel his sneakered feet go from free-floating to dragging up against the inclining sediment that rose up from the lake's floor. He knew he was getting close to dry land and immersive dangers. A split second later, Dipper was dragged onto the muddy banks of the lake. The tiny sediments and rocks tore and scratched his flesh as he was pull onwards.

At the last second, the dampened vest was finally pulled from his noodle arms. The momentum sent Dipper flying from the scene. He rolled over the filthy edges until he came to a sprawled out stop in the dirt.

With his last remaining ounce of strength, Dipper raised his head to see the soaked piece of clothing hit the corners of the twin trees with a sickening *SPLAT!* before it disappeared into the darkness.

"Wow…"

Dipper simply stared at the sight before sinking face first into the muck in pure exhaustion.

"That – That could have been me in there…that could have been…"

The deafening hoots of a night owl made Dipper rise up from his slumber.

"Wait! Not my tongue! Huh?! Wha?!"

He looked around to see that the fog had passed from the lakeside area. Still a bit lightheaded, Dipper warily rose to his feet, only to hear squishing sounds coming from beneath him. His gaze shot downwards, making him take notice that his entire body was caked in pitch black mud. Dipper tried his best to wipe the mud from his frame, only to become disgruntled by his meaningless efforts.

Dipper took a few well-paced steps towards the twin trees in an effort to find out where exactly his plight stemmed from. He examined the area behind the foliage to see his mangled vest caught up in some sort of apparatus. Dipper bent down on one knee to gain a closer look.

He had gotten himself snagged on a form of snare trap. Following the path that he was dragged along, Dipper determined that its line had been deliberately placed so that he would be lugged around the entire proximity of the lake, only to end up a gory mess by the time he finished his journey.

Taking a hold of the blue cloth, Dipper spotted that it was a carefully placed fisherman's hook that bound him to the vicious trap. Removing the catch from his vest, Dipper stood up and started to replay the events of the night in his head. No matter which way he looked at the facts, there was only one obvious solution:

"Okay, I think I get it now: when I sat back on the canoe, I must have gotten myself hitched on this thing somehow. And going based on the style and the set-up of the snare, there's only one person I know whose fishing and hunting skills are more than capable of doing such a complicated task. After all, her family goes camping like every other week…"

Dipper didn't want to believe it. As his eyes grew watery, he hoped and prayed for some other crazy answer; some miraculous, supernatural explanation that would prove him wrong and find his crush innocent. However, the facts were more than apparent…

"It was her – Wendy was really behind everything tonight! The picture, the note, the boat trap; she planned it all!"

Cradling his jacket, Dipper staggered around to the other side of the lake, only to plop himself into the awaiting Mystery Cart. Taking a moment to regain his energy, Dipper snapped on his seatbelt and threw the gear into drive.

Before speeding away, he turned around one last time towards the empty boat in the middle of the lake, where the last remaining memory of the duo laid in broken parts for eternity.

"I…" Dipper stuttered as he made his way back towards the Mystery Shack, "I don't know what to do now! Mabel said I could fix this if I just apologized, but after everything that's happened here tonight, how could there possibly be a way to repair things? I still can't – she…she tried to kill me!"

Having his thoughts and emotions go into a million different directions at once, Dipper forced himself to remain hushed for the moment; the last thing he needed was to flip out and total one of his great-uncle's carts.

As he continued down into the main path back to the Shack, Dipper realized that despite what had just happened, there was still one last dreaded fate that he was powerless in escaping before the night was through:

"Ugh!" Dipper lamented, lifting a mud-soaked arm and watching small puddles splash onto the seat, "There's no way I can get out of taking a bath now!"