the same view with a new light

Another line of cars exits the mouth of the valley, reflecting the midday sun like glittering beetles all in a row, trundling out of Gravity Falls with carapaces shining. From her perch atop the church steeple, Mabel watches them disappear beyond her sight, cruising towards the demarcation of the trestle and the broken cliffs, headed for the highway.

There can't be too many left at this point; people have been leaving for over a day and a half and the valley is beginning to feel strangely empty, which is new. The valley has always felt wide and wild, the town a splotch of tentative civilization in the midst of untamed woods, an island of habitation in a coniferous sea (though, on any given day, the town is only slightly less weird than what surrounds it). It's been during the last week that things took on a different cast, where the streets were always full of people and even the woods teemed with voices. This is a bit of an illusion, Mabel knows; nobody was wandering off into the real woods, or the magical forest (at least she hopes not). But the valley felt full in a way it never did before, and now the absence of the crowd makes all that space and silence that much more apparent.

Or maybe it's just the waiting that's different—the wondering if that silence will no longer be the default, if the crowd will return again and even larger. Mabel doesn't doubt that Gravity Falls keeps its own secrets; that is self-evident. What worries her is that it won't be able to withstand this ultimate test. That's a lot of people passing beneath the trestle, like a lot a lot. She supposes there might have been that many people last year at Woodstick, but there weren't crazy robot-hawks last year, or even anything particularly weird, give or take a Love God or flaming hot air balloon. Even Weirdmageddon was just a warmup when it comes to witnesses. There couldn't have been more than a handful of non-natives in the valley when the sky split, and on the outside no one saw anything at all.

So, yeah, she's kind of worried about it. And that's on top of all the stuff about the hawks, which is also bad. Then there's the fact that she and Dipper and Pacifica have to leave soon, right when there's so much going on, and that's not even getting into Pacifica's situation and what's going to happen with her… Or what's going to happen with Brendan, since Mabel really needs to talk to him, too. Oh, yeah, and she's still grounded, she supposes. So there's that.

Gosh, it's a cruddy time to have to go home. She crosses her arms and sighs.

The weather is bright and brisk, clouds gliding swiftly overhead. The wind whisks away her sigh, and it emerges inaudible and unnoticed at this altitude. She sits at the ledge of the belltower atop the town's church, facing the square below. Behind her, Dipper is wiring one of Ford's new and improved Weirdness emissions detectors to a roof strut, tying the shiny metal tube down firmly. Though nearly identical to the device they took into the magical forest on the day they encountered the timber wave, this one is part of a new batch that is upgraded with wireless capability. It will be part of an eventual network which will span the entire valley—for now, though, there are only a few others, most of them placed around the Shack and town.

"I hope this doesn't rust," Dipper frets as he finishes his task. "I don't have any replacements if something happens to it…"

"Can't McGucket make more?" Mabel asks, leaning back and turning her head so he can hear her.

"Yeah, but he's pretty busy trying to put together a complete hawk. Plus, you know, Great-Uncle Ford doesn't want to put any pressure on him, because… well, because of last time," Dipper mumbles.

Yikes. Too much bad history, even if things are okay now.

She knows that McGucket is working to build his own mecha-hawk using whatever pieces he can salvage from hawks that were too damaged to melt all the way, like the one that Brendan crunched up. Maybe that should take priority, since they came from a portal and all. She gets that it's all one piece—the portal, the Weirdness, the hawks, the bubble—and that solving one thing helps solve the other things, but still. If the hawks come again, they don't have a working heart (assuming the broken one won't work, which seems like a safe bet). They'll need something else.

She hears a digital click to her right and looks just as Pacifica finishes taking a picture with her phone. "How do I look?" she asks the other girl.

"It's scrapbook-worthy," Pacifica deems.

Mabel fishes her own phone from her pocket and holds it up. "Okay, give me a pose!"

"Dipper, come pose with me," Pacifica calls to him.

"Do I have to?" he asks.

"What do you think?"

He sets down his pliers and makes his way over to the girls with obvious reluctance. "You know, I don't remember ever consenting to be in the scrapbook," he complains.

"You should've thought of that before being my brother," Mabel tells him. Deciding that if Dipper is going to be in it then she is too, she squishes in next to him and holds the phone out for a selfie.

It turns out pretty good, actually; even Dipper is smiling, if only slightly. The three of them are caught in the afternoon sun, the edges of the belltower dark around them and the valley a bright smudge below.

"Summer memories! This is going straight to the copier store," Mabel says with satisfaction. "Calendars, mugs, t-shirts and more! They got it all at the copier store!"

"I didn't know they had a slogan," Pacifica says.

"They don't, Soos made it up—but it's stuck in my brain."

Once Dipper finishes with the recording device, the three of them descend the dusty steps, spiraling back down to ground level, the creaks and thumps of their passage echoing around the old structure. They pass by the rows of empty pews and then go out through the wooden doors, the sun momentarily blinding as they exit the dim building. The square is still being cleared after the fair; a few of the rides are here, albeit in partially disassembled states, and there's a fair amount of trash strewn along the edges of the sidewalks. Soon enough the valley will be cleared of cars and remnants of the festival and the work crews can turn their attention to the deactivated hawks scattered everywhere like a very abstract art installation.

They're cutting a diagonal path through town—angling towards Gopher Road, taking some shortcuts—when Mabel spies a very familiar head of luscious black locks exiting The Brokhen Arms. Grinning, she hurries forward to get his attention.

"Brendan!" she shouts, waving.

Brendan jumps slightly, startled, and turns to face her. "Mabel! Hey, I was just going to your place!"

Mabel runs ahead to meet him. "Hoping to see someone special?" she asks coyly, stopping in front of him with a happy little hop.

"Yeah, of course," he says, though his expression quickly sobers. "Well, I'm actually supposed to meet my dad there."

"Oh… For science stuff?"

"I guess so. He didn't say, but… I mean, what else?"

Dipper and Pacifica have caught up by this point, and Dipper nods seriously. "Did Great-Uncle Ford tell him to come over?"

Brendan shrugs. "Maybe? I'm, uh, not really in the loop. And still super grounded. How was the fair?"

"Eh, it was alright," Mabel says to make him feel better.

They cross the rest of the way through town and then walk down Gopher Road, the gravel crunching in concert beneath their feet. There aren't many downed hawks on this stretch of the road because the trees are so close, preventing landing. Still, there are one or two that have been dragged off the center of the street, their once gleaming shells now rain-spotted and dirt-streaked.

"Still can't get used to seeing these things everywhere," Brendan says as they pass one.

"It'll take months to scrap all of them," Dipper remarks.

Mabel isn't sure what to think. On one hand, the hawks are a reminder that they won. On the other hand, they're also a reminder that there's someone out there who sent the hawks and might send more (or something even worse). It's scary to think about how many dead hawks there are, how expensive they might be. Grunkle Ford is crazy smart, and he can fight back and close a portal, but he can't build his own army.

"They sent so many… What if they just send more?" Pacifica says, echoing Mabel's thoughts.

"We'll think of something. Bill was way more powerful than us and we stopped him, didn't we?" Dipper says, squeezing Pacifica's hand.

"You stopped him. I got turned into a tapestry."

Brendan shakes his head. "You guys have the craziest stories."

The Shack soon comes into view from around the bend. Soos is near the edge of the parking lot with the Mystery Cart, repainting a sign, and he waves when he spots them approaching.

"Hey, Soos. Did you close up?" Dipper asks.

"Yeah, dude, it was dead today. Stan didn't want to close but when I went to ask him again, he was asleep in his chair, so it was, like, totally serendipitous," Soos replies.

"He won't even know," Mabel agrees.

Soos gestures towards Brendan. "Hey, some dude came through who was either your dad or an older clone. Probably your dad, right?"

"Probably, but I guess you never know around here," Brendan says.

Soos nods wisely. "For real."

Soos joins the group as they cross the gravel lot, no doubt interested in whatever answers lie in store. When they enter the gift shop the vending machine is slightly ajar, so they go straight down, stepping out of the elevator into the observation room. Through the thick windows that look out into the lab area Mabel can see Ford erasing a whiteboard; Brendan's dad is seated on a stool nearby.

Ford looks over his shoulder when everyone enters. "Good, you're here. There aren't enough chairs for everyone, but feel free to pull up a crate or two."

Mabel grabs an empty plastic crate as the rest of the group scrounge for seating, Pacifica and Dipper sharing a small bench and Soos taking position cross-legged on the floor. Brendan grabs another crate and sits on Mabel's right at the end of the line, conspicuously placing him as far from his father as possible. They're just settling in when footsteps ring out on the concrete behind them; Mabel half-turns to see Wendy hurrying in.

"Sorry," she says a little breathlessly, sounding like she sprinted to get here. "Did I miss anything?" She squeezes in next to Soos, using Dipper's leg as a backrest.

"Not at all, we were just getting started," Ford says. He clears his throat a bit dramatically. "Now, a fair amount of this won't be new information for most of you but bear with me." He begins to write on the board. "I have spent years attempting to formulate a unifying theory of Weirdness. While a fully comprehensive theory remains the goal, recent breakthroughs have granted us a framework based on two principles, to wit:

1. Weirdness interacts with matter. The exact nature of Weirdness is unknown; we can't currently describe it. But it is an extant, measurable, consistent state which may be gained or lost.

2. Weirdness exhibits a form of magnetism that propagates over distance. This magnetism can function as an aggregate, as exhibited by the valley of Gravity Falls and its bubble of Weirdness Magnetism, or through an individual person or object, as exhibited by Dipper's Theory of Personal Weirdness Magnetism and everyone in this room.

Ford sets down his marker with a clack. "The phenomenon we are now concerned with utilizes both hypotheses in unison. How is it that Gravity Falls remains undiscovered by the wider world? How does the valley protect itself from exploitation? Thanks to Project Mentem, we now have an answer."

Mabel leans forward on her crate, hoping it's good news, the kind of news that will keep the valley safe. (Well, as safe as it ever is, anyway.)

Ford tapes a printout to the board, a strange, almost butterfly-like shape in bright green. "This is a scan of a local brain—thank you for volunteering, Dipper. The green portions represent areas that are Weird, and account for the entirety."

Wendy nudges Dipper's leg, snickering quietly. "Like we didn't know that!"

Another sheet goes up. This time, the brain-shape is only partially tinted by green, and it's not as vibrant. There are only a few faint spots of the color.

Ford continues, "This is a scan which is representative of most of the tourists. You can see that there are only a few hotspots of Weirdness present, primarily in the hippocampus." Ford presses a finger to the spot, his voice rich with excitement. "It appears that memories of Weird events are themselves Weird! The electrical and chemical signals within the brain—the actual, physical phenomenon of memory—are tinged by Weirdness! Pockets of the strange, buried within an otherwise perfectly normal mind."

The reaction of the room (save for Dipper, who can hardly sit still) is interested, but subdued, probably because everyone is on the same page as Mabel and thinks this is cool, but doesn't really understand how that changes anything. Luckily, Ford is moving on to explain.

Ford clasps his hands behind his back and then quickly thinks better of it when he begins to lose his balance. He grabs one of his crutches and settles it under his arm as he gestures. "In light of this, I propose two possible scenarios. In the first, the tourists who leave the valley will lose their Weird memories as a result of Weirdness Magnetism. As they exit the bubble of the valley, it will exert force upon these memories, pulling them back. This could result in distorted or entirely missing memories, especially while still near the bubble, when the pull is strongest. It's possible that many tourists will lose their memories of what happened here almost immediately after leaving. However, we've recorded the influence of the valley as far away as Piedmont. Such degradation might easily continue practically anywhere in the world.

"In my second scenario, Weird memories cannot be sustained within a non-Weird vessel. Weirdness is rare outside of concentrated areas like Gravity Falls. Cocooned within the mundanity of a typical brain, Weirdness may simply fade over time. Perhaps the Weirdness particle—if it is a particle—has a half-life. The rate of decay could be affected by a variety of unknown factors." Ford strokes his chin, staring at the printout. "Keep in mind that these theories are not mutually exclusive. If these processes do exist, then they can work in tandem. To be clear, I lean towards the first theory: Weirdness Magnetism has a great deal of experimental confirmation and is without question the thing we understand best about Weirdness. The second scenario is almost entirely conjectural."

An unfamiliar voice, deep and steady, asks, "What makes someone Weird to begin with?"

It takes Mabel a moment to realize it's Brendan's father; she almost forgot he's here.

"Weirdness is poorly understood as a property. At this stage, we've never recorded Weirdness being gained or lost. Rather, through observation we've simply inferred that this happens," Ford answers.

"But it isn't random," Cager says.

Ford replies, "Circumstances suggest no. After all, I'm polydactyl and you're a lycanthrope, both states of being that deviate from the norm. Wendy and Soos were born and raised within the highly concentrated Weirdness of the valley; Pacifica spent a good portion of her life here, especially during formative childhood years. Dipper and Mabel have a familial connection to the area, which I admit is far more tenuous… But, they are also twins, a rare status. The question, of course, is were they already Weird before coming to Gravity Falls? Alas, that data is unobtainable."

"Many people have unusual characteristics, far more than are drawn to the valley each year," Cager points out.

Ford nods. "True. Perhaps there is a threshold, or some characteristics are intrinsically more Weird than others. Perhaps some people have an innate proclivity for Weirdness. Whatever the case, this will be part of our research going forward, and it's something the Conclave could be very helpful in investigating."

"We'll discuss it," is all Cager says to that. Mabel trades a glance with Brendan, who winces slightly at his father's curtness.

"Wait, so, if I went off to college in Portland or whatever, there's a chance I could lose my memories?" Wendy asks, concerned.

"Extremely unlikely," Ford assures her. "Neither Mabel, Dipper, nor Pacifica have demonstrated even slight memory loss despite being outside the valley for nearly a year, and it's the same with myself and Stanley. In fact, there's strong circumstantial evidence that, far from losing any 'amount' of Weirdness, their personal magnetism attracted Weirdness. We are Weird at a level far beyond the scattered memories of the tourists. It seems to be innate with us—it permeates our entire being. I speculate that we have in fact become Weirdness generators, though this is far from proven."

There's been too many maybes for Mabel to keep track. The important thing she's taking away from all this is that the valley is going to be just fine. Mom and Dad aren't going to see any of this on the news, the government isn't going to come roaring down the highway to take over again. Everything is going to be okay. The valley really does keep its secrets.

After a few more details too esoteric for Mabel to follow, Grunkle Ford begins describing the discovery of the hearts. Mabel is already familiar with the story and so is everyone else minus Cager, so the kids plus Soos begin to disperse. Soos and Wendy immediately strike up a debate as to which one of them is Weirder; Dipper and Pacifica take a sidebar as Dipper explains some technicality to her. This gives Mabel a chance to catch Brendan's eye and lead him over towards the Quantum Generator, where the machine's deep, steady hum will ensure their privacy.

"This is going pretty well," Brendan says with an optimistic note in his voice as he joins her. "I thought my dad might be more difficult."

"Maybe he can tell Grunkle Ford is being honest," Mabel says.

"Dunno. Maybe." Brendan looks at the Generator, holding one hand up to catch the eerie light that shimmers from the device's porthole. "Man, there's some wild stuff down here."

"It's a Quantum Generator and it powers the house," Mabel tells him.

"Wow. For how long? Like, forever?"

Mabel shrugs.

"Wow." Brendan drops his hand; he looks like he's bracing himself for bad news. "Did you, um… want to talk?"

Mabel takes a breath. "I guess we should."

This is hard. The closest she's come to this side of a relationship is telling Gideon she didn't want to date him, at a point where that was easy because he'd just tried to kill Dipper and she was really mad. She doesn't have any anger to carry her through this and it's not the same, anyway, because she doesn't want to tell Brendan she can't date him, even if the practical side of her brain (which is admittedly small even on the best days) tells her that dating someone a state away won't be easy.

But she really, really likes him, and the thought of saying goodbye and just not seeing him again sucks so much. She wants to make the attempt, to at least do that. If it doesn't work out, well, that's in the future, but gosh darn it, she needs to try.

The words spill out of Mabel in a rush that's just barely on the right side of incoherent: "Okay I know we never labeled it and I know we're taking it super super slow because I always go way way too fast and that's great and it's been great and you're great, but I wanna ask if maybe you like me enough to try being my boyfriend even if I'm stuck in Piedmont until next summer or whenever I can get away and hope you can also get away, like maybe Grunkle Ford can time it right for us if I ask him real nice?"

"Whoa!" Brendan holds up his hands to make her stop and blinks a couple times, no doubt trying to parse all of that. "...You want to be my long-distance girlfriend?"

Mabel lets out a breathless laugh. "You always get the important parts," she says, grinning.

Brendan smiles that slow, wonderful smile of his, all smiling lips and shy eyes half-hidden behind long, black hair. "That's a total relief, because I had no idea how I was going to ask you," he says.

She steps closer to him, biting her lower lip with anticipation. "You know, I never did get to give you a big-darn-kiss for saving me from that hawk…"

He looks very receptive, but at the same time his eyes flicker over to where his dad is sitting, and, yeah, he's got a point. Maybe not in front of his dad and Grunkle Ford. Mabel grabs his hand and leads him back to the observation room, where the dim interior will hide them.

When she kisses him, he smells like flannel and boy and tastes like mint toothpaste, his lips so warm against her own. Feeling emboldened by his reciprocity, she presses a little closer than she ever has before, fitting herself to him. When she pulls back, Brendan has a slightly dazed look in his eyes. It makes Mabel think she's doing something right. Which is cool, because she wants to do more of it.

"We can make this work, right?" Mabel breathes, her gaze locked with his.

"Yes," he says, though by the way he's looking at her, she has a feeling he'd agree to pretty much anything right now.

"I'll come back every chance I get, and you can meet me here because of your dad's work thing! I'll tell Grunkle Ford to time it just right, so it won't be that bad," she tells him. "I can save money for bus tickets! I'm old enough to babysit now."

"You got something lined up?" he asks, looking impressed by her sudden industriousness.

"Dipper, obviously. He's a handful!"

Brendan laughs and then looks guiltily out the observation window. "Don't tell him I laughed, okay? I think he's finally starting to like me."

"Who wouldn't like this face?" Mabel coos, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

Brendan grimaces and pulls away. "Yeah, maybe don't talk like my aunt when we're going to kiss?"

"Sorry," Mabel says contritely. "Guess I'm not so good at this kissing stuff, huh."

"I… wouldn't say that," he says, his voice roughening slightly as he looks at her lips, and that tone sends a shivery warmth through her. She wants to make him talk like that again.

She'll have to explore that later, since she only has time to get in one more quick kiss before the lab begins to empty, Pacifica raising a knowing eyebrow in Mabel's direction as she passes. Still grounded, Brendan has to go with his dad, but Mabel catches him for a moment by the door as they leave.

"You can come to the party, right?" she asks anxiously.

"I think so. My parents are finally starting to ease up, so I just need to keep my head down for a couple more days and I think I'll be ungrounded," Brendan says.

"Hang in there," she tells him, squeezing his hand instead of kissing him because his dad is watching from the driveway. "Text me 'til you lose your fingerprints!"

"See, you're a bad influence, trying to prepare me for a life of crime," he says with a grin.

"We'll be just like Bonnie and Clyde except we won't get shot and we won't shoot anyone, so we'll actually be nothing like them at all, byeeeeeeee!"

Then he's gone, disappearing down Gopher Road a few steps behind his father, looking back one last time to wave.

Mabel stands on the porch for a minute, fidgeting, wondering if she did the right thing. She's determined to return to the valley at every opportunity, but she's worried that there won't be that many opportunities once the school year starts. It's not like she can just fail classes—she can't risk summer school. Wendy made high school seem like a nightmare, and while Mabel doesn't entirely trust Wendy's take on that if only because Mabel likes school and she knows Wendy doesn't, it is possible that high school is way different from middle school. What if she's too busy to come back before next summer? Can she really wait for almost a year to see Brendan again?

And even worse than that, what if he didn't mean it? What if he's just playing along, too worried about her reaction to really think it through? Gosh, he already feels so bad about leaving her when his parents told him to. She really hopes that's not influencing his decision.

"Oof, anxiety," she says out loud, and begins shaking her hands around and jumping in place, doing a little anxiety dance. "Shake it off, shake it off!"

"I wish I could say this is the weirdest thing I've caught you doing," Pacifica says.

Mabel spins around to find the other girl standing in the doorway. "How dare you spy on my anxiety dance! It's not for mortal eyes!"

"Is that what that was?" Pacifica seats herself on the porch couch and crosses her legs in that elegant way of hers. "Is there a reason you're freaking out?"

Mabel sighs and slumps on the couch next to her friend. "I asked Brendan to be my long-distance boyfriend but maybe I messed up. Maybe we were better off keeping it light and breezy, you know? I don't want him to get stuck in something he doesn't want."

"Did he say no?"

"No…"

"That's usually what people say when they don't want something," Pacifica says, rolling her eyes.

"But what if he's just trying to make me happy?"

"Good, he should be doing that. He's just some boy-wolf who wasn't even here for Weirdmageddon, and you're Mabel Pines."

Mabel groans, letting her head fall onto the back of the couch. "Come on, Pacifica, I don't think I'm better than him. Give me real advice!"

"Fine," Pacifica huffs. "He said yes, so either he wants to be your boyfriend or he's a liar. Which is it?"

Mabel has to think about it. Brendan prefers to avoid confrontation and isn't always up front about everything, but he also doesn't have a history of lying to her. And he'd certainly been eager enough to kiss after they talked, so it's not like he was embarrassed or trying to stay away from her. He acted like a boy excited to have an official girlfriend, not a boy who just gained a relationship he didn't want.

"I think… he meant it," Mabel says, already feeling lighter.

"There you go. Everything is fine, and you're a porch-dancing lunatic," Pacifica drawls.

"You wish you could porch-dance that awesomely!"

"I will porch-dance you into the ground."

And that's how, a minute or two later, Wendy opens the door to find the girls gyrating wildly around the porch to the latest hit from &NDRA blaring from Mabel's phone.

"Awwww yeah, porch dance party for no reason! Go! Go! Go!" Wendy chants. She sheds her flannel outer shirt and tosses it on the couch, joining them. "Dipper, get in on this, man!"

Dipper pokes his head out and immediately begins to withdraw when he sees them dancing. "Oh, no, I don't, uh, I—"

Too late. Pacifica darts over to the door and captures him by the wrists before he can get away. Maybe that last afterparty finally got to him, because soon enough he's bouncing around like an idiot with the rest of them (or the fact that he gets to hold Pacifica that close might have something to do with it).

Before long, everyone is sweaty and out of breath. Dipper and Pacifica take one cushion of the couch while Mabel takes the other, flipping around to hang her legs over the arm, her head pushed against Dipper's leg. Waddles, attracted by the commotion of the impromptu dance party, settles in between Mabel's head and Dipper's leg with a satisfied grunt.

"Hey, I'll be right back. Don't let Waddles chew on my shirt," Wendy says.

She disappears for a moment and returns with cold cans of Pitt from the fridge, passing them out before she sits on the crooked wooden boards of the porch, leaning back against Mabel's side of the couch.

"Here's to doing dumb things forever," Dipper says, raising his can.

"Here here!" Wendy takes a drink and lets out a companionable belch. "Or is it, like, 'hear hear,' like I 'hear' it?"

"It's whatever you want it to be, bay-bay," Mabel says, giving Wendy a lazy thumbs up.

Dipper is holding his can of Pitt in his lap with both hands, which Pacifica apparently feels is a mistake on his part. She grabs his left arm and drapes it over her shoulders, leaning into him. Mabel feels the sudden pang of Brendan's absence, and hopes he'll be able to make it to the birthday party.

It's still bright out, only a couple perfectly white clouds moving slowly overhead. Evening is still hours away. The air is cool enough in the shade of the porch; insects buzz on the scrubby lawn, the trees rustling in the intermittent breeze. Mabel closes her eyes, her can of soda cold against her stomach, and listens to the slow sounds of the afternoon.

"Man, this is great," Wendy says with a contented sigh. "Doing nothing is underrated."

"We deserve a break from now until, like, forever," Pacifica says.

Cushioned on the couch, surrounded by her friends and the warmth of the afternoon, Mabel is already half asleep. "Maybe Grunkle Stan will close up shop until we leave," she mumbles. "He's gotta count his money sometime, right?"

"It's gonna be dead until fall. There's literally no one left to squeeze," Wendy predicts. She takes a long slurp from her Pitt and then sighs. "Crud, man. I don't wanna go back to school yet."

"Wait… This isn't your last year, is it?" Dipper asks, sounding worried.

"Nah. I'm a Junior, next year is the last."

Mabel reaches out to place a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "Even after you graduate, you have to come back for the summer, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Wendy says with an easy shrug.

Mabel blinks. "You're not?"

"No, man. I finally figured it out, thanks to you guys," Wendy says with a laugh. She slides her hand back across the couch to give Mabel a friendly poke in the side, making the younger girl squirm.

"What do you mean?" Dipper says.

"So, you know after last summer, I started to think about my future for real," Wendy says. This garners hums of agreement and quiet nods; they all know exactly what she means. "But I didn't really know what I wanted to do until this summer."

Mabel twists herself into a sitting position. Leaning forward, she sets her soda on the porch and starts to braid Wendy's hair. "Well? Don't leave us hanging!"

Wendy keeps her head still so Mabel can do her thing, and says, "I'm going to college, maybe something local or in Washington, and getting a degree in Forestry and Environmental Science. Then I'm gonna come back and work for Ford. I might do some work for the city, too, and maybe one of the logging companies."

"That's so cool!" Mabel gasps.

"Wow, Wendy, that's awesome!" Dipper says. "Do you want me to talk to Great-Uncle Ford? There's not a lot of money right now, but by the time you get your degree things will ramp up."

"Already did, dude," Wendy tells him. "He said he totally wants me to be an expedition leader and do environmental impact stuff. I'm not a hundred percent sure what that means, but I'll figure it out. I'm going to learn everything I need to know to take you guys anywhere."

Dipper couldn't look more delighted. "That's the best plan ever. We'll never get lost with you around."

"That's the idea, man."

There's a determination in Wendy's voice that's usually only heard when she's talking about climbing something or making a particularly difficult axe throw. Mabel's heart swells with the knowledge that her friend will be there in the future, wherever the Weirdness takes them. It makes her worry a little bit about her own future, especially since Dipper's path is so clear, but she's just starting high school next month. She's got time.

Finishing Wendy's braid, Mabel retrieves her soda and slouches back into the musty couch. The group spends the next couple minutes in a comfortable silence, watching cloud shadows sail across the lawn.

"Alright, so: If all those tourists are gonna lose their memories after they leave the bubble, does that mean we just missed a major opportunity? Should we have, like, been robbing people?" Wendy asks.

"Stan already did," Pacifica says.

"Okay, first off, we shouldn't rob anyone," Dipper says virtuously, garnering a chorus of boos from Wendy and Mabel, "and secondly, getting robbed isn't Weird. I'm pretty sure they'd remember that part."

"So you think they'll remember the normal parts of the festival?" Wendy says.

"Probably. Or at least parts of it."

"Dude, what a terrible way to live, to remember only the boring junk," Wendy says, shuddering at the thought.

"Not everyone can be as interesting as we are," Pacifica says primly.

Mabel raises her soda. "To being Weird forever!"

"Always," Dipper says, and clinks his can with hers.

The Same View With A New Light by WATERMEDOWN (Equal Vision, 2017)