The Big Con

Afterword: Seems a lot of folks think there's one little scene missing from the story. Okay, okay, here it is . . . .

The lake, Gravity Falls, the night of the Fourth of July.

After the parade (and the clean-up), after the big barbecue and picnic hosted at the Mystery Shack by Soos and Melody (though Grunkle Stan served as master of ceremonies, and people were in such a good mood that they even laughed at some of his jokes), after playing games at the athletic field, after picnic dinners or family meals, right around dusk everyone went out to the lake for the last crowning Independence Day event: the fireworks show.

As they did every year, the locals crowded the swimming beach, sitting on lawn chairs or towels, eating ice creams, drinking sodas, and relaxing. A team of six experienced pros from Portland and hired just for the occasion crammed three boats with fireworks of every description—Roman candles, Catherine wheels, skyrockets, willows, chrysanthemums, barrages, comets, dragon's-egg cracklers, fire-fountains, go-getters, boomers, whizzers, all the rest. As they had every year, the team had already ferried the fireworks to Scuttlebutt Island and had set up for the grand show.

(A similar thing had taken place annually for as long as anyone in town could recall. Many years, after the show was over the whole team returned safe and alive to the docks.)

While the sky darkened, the crowd grew, laughed, played, and watched kids chasing each other with sparklers. Mabel tried to eat one and reported that it tasted "burny."

But Dipper . . . Dipper slipped away and walked down the beach, all the way past the ranger station, and to one of the long docks. No boats were moored there at the moment; the families who owned them had taken them out to watch the show from the water. Lights showed aboard them as they bobbed at anchor a hundred yards out on the lake. The last twilight just made the boats visible.

Dipper walked to the end of the empty dock and sat with his feet dangling. For a change he was all alone, all on his own. Even Mabel hadn't tagged along.

His thoughts seemed to him as dark as the sky above, and unrelieved even by the light of distant stars.

"Hey, man, what's shakin'?"

The voice startled Dipper. "Wendy!"

She came sauntering along, hands in pockets, and sat next to him. "Hey, man, thanks for the opportunity today."

"Aw, you're welcome." He kicked his legs, then stopped. That's childish. "Uh—how, how did you know I was here?"

"I have like mental radar, dude. I focused in on you and it led me here." She laughed. "Plus, I saw you walkin' all by yourself along the edge of the water and I followed you. You looked kinda down, man. What's the prob?"

Full night had fallen. Across the black expanse of water, the fireworks began with two arcing streaks of red etched on the dark face of night. They gracefully bent and then burst into brilliant green streamers. A second later the booms reached the shore. Off on the swimming beach, people began to cheer.

Dipper sighed. "Oh, I don't know what's the matter with me. Stuff's just bugging me. I feel guilty because I got us all into danger when I thought I could call and control a ghost. Instead it grabbed us, dragged in Mabel, and me, and even you off into the netherworld or someplace—and it was my fault. I didn't have any right to risk your lives."

Silver rockets in the distance spangled the sky.

Wendy said, "No sweat, dude. We got out of it, didn't we? We make a great team. Hey, believe me, there were even times when I enjoyed it."

More booms, followed a few seconds later by bombs bursting in air, gold and silver, green and red, vibrant blue. In their light, drifts of pale gray smoke floated like streamers.

Watching the fireworks, Dipper went on, "And then . . . the whole thing about that weird other world blows my mind. If what we did last summer's a cartoon show over there—and if it's as accurate as it obviously is—what does that make us? Are we a real world, or are we imaginary? Do we exist just 'cause some people in another reality dreamed us up and other people like us? Or are we the real thing and is the other place imaginary, or are we both real and did the people who made that show somehow tune in on our lives? What's real and what's not real?"

"Wow. Deep, man." She punched him on the shoulder.

"Ow!"

Dozens more rockets, and this time brilliant sparks whirled in a storm of light, crackling and popping.

Wendy chuckled. "Felt real, didn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his arm.

Streams of light streaked up. Ovals of green and red burst from them and expanded, lassoing the stars.

After a few moments of watching the display, Wendy said, "Come on, Dip. Somethin' else is troubling you. That's not all. C'mon, man, tell me. We're friends, remember?"

Deep booms, then fountains of jetting colors neoned the darkness. Hisses and pops and bangs echoed off the bluffs around the lake.

Dipper bit his lip. "Yeah, something else. Well . . . that girl. The one dressed up sort of like Pacifica. I mean, she grabbed me when they were gonna take the picture and before I knew it, she was kissing me right on the lips!"

"Wasn't your fault."

A rocket somehow went wrong, rainbowed out and down to the water and drowned itself with a long hiss.

Dipper's sigh echoed the failed rocket. "No, but I kinda hoped my first kiss . . . first real kiss, you know what I mean . . . I wanted . . . ah, forget it."

Now the mortars flung whole packs of firecrackers into the sky to explode with flashes and bangs.

Teasingly, Wendy said, "Mabel told me Mermando was your first kiss."

"That didn't count! I was your assistant lifeguard, and that was reverse mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!"

"America the Beautiful" began to play, the orchestral music coming from speakers around the swimming beach. Fireworks were choreographed to it, underlining the lyrics. Purple mountain majesties actually appeared in the sky, one peak behind another and another. . . .

Wendy said, "Good point, dude. So . . . if that kiss is off the books, why does the other one count? Dude, it wasn't really Pacifica. And it wasn't really you. I mean, you weren't in your real body, were you? And you didn't mean for it to happen."

"Well, yeah . . . but . . .I wanted—I can't explain. Oh, it's kid stuff. It's 'cause I'm so young."

"I told you once you were pretty mature for your age, remember? Dipper, look at me. Look at me, man."

The song was coming to its end. Sea to shining sea—a brilliant waving scatter of blue and silver, one to the east, the other to the west—

Dipper saw in the light of the rockets Wendy's face. She leaned over. She was smiling. He felt her lips warm and soft on his—

He caught his breath and closed his eyes—

And even with them closed, he saw the whole sky, horizon to horizon, ablaze with the most fantastic fireworks he could even imagine.

(Really) The End