10.
The morning Tambry came to the shack, Dipper awoke to the smell of pancakes.
The heavenly smell and excited chatter wafted from downstairs, and Dipper opened his eyes to the cheery sunshine dancing on the ceiling of the attic room. He yawned, grabbing around for his phone on the nightstand. The screen unlocked and his texts with Wendy appeared.
You ok?
Still no response.
Uncertainty stole over him... at the very least, she usually checked in. Maybe not right away, but days had gone by. He hoped that Dan and her brothers were home looking after her properly and not off on some jaunt in the deep woods.
He'd been in knots worrying about Wendy ever since the last time he'd seen her… Who wouldn't be? Seeing her curled up in the passenger seat of the Stanmobile, her head tucked in her folded arms telegraphed a misery that he could almost taste at the back of his throat... It reminded him of her birthday two summers ago.
His first instinct had been to text her. Then he asked Stan. According to him, she'd eaten something just before her shift that gave her a heinous bit of food poisoning.
It wouldn't hurt to swing by...
Just to check if she was ok.
Maybe he could even tell her that he'd gotten together with Pacifica... Then again, maybe not. Seemed like a weird time to bring that up... But maybe it was the best time to mention it since they'd have a lot more to catch up on. If he could just sandwich it between two bigger more interesting things that had happened since the start of her sabbatical from the shack, maybe she wouldn't react at all... Just an acknowledgment, something like "Cool, dude." and then onto the next topic of conversation. Seemed ideal.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. It didn't amount to much unless he actually went to her house. His worry for her outweighed all his other anxieties, so he would go. His mouth watered as the smell of breakfast hit his nose again and he hurried down to the kitchen.
"Morning, all." He dropped his jacket onto the back of a free chair and poured himself a cup of coffee. Stan grunted, his mouth full. He could've been returning the greeting or demanding more pancakes. Either way, Mabel added another golden brown flapjack to the half-demolished stack and he tucked in once more.
"Morning Dipper! Blueberry or chocolate chip?" Mabel grinned over her shoulder as she returned to the stove.
"How about one of each?" He asked, hopeful that some food would settle the butterflies in his stomach.
"You got it!"
They continued to chat while she worked and he alternated between scrolling through his phone and watching Stan eat. Whether he should be impressed or mildly revolted, Dipper was unsure. The old man put his pancakes away like a starved badger.
"Helloooo, earth to Dipper!" Mabel exclaimed, making him sit up.
"Wha-?"
"I asked if you had any big plans on your day off!" She teased, setting his breakfast down in front of him. Dipper grinned and thanked her sheepishly, grabbing the syrup and pouring it over his pancakes carefully.
"I figured I'd go see how Wendy's doing." He breezed... or at least tried to. Stan suddenly went into a choking fit, and the twins watched as he subdued it with much chest beating and a long pull of his black coffee.
"I told you, kid, it was just a little food poisoning. She's probably puking her guts out or worse-"
"Isn't that all the more reason I should go? She might need someone to check in on her." Dipper rushed between bites of his food. Stan shook his head.
"No, no, no. Besides, I need you here today. Mabel's helping Soos with the new exhibit and since Wendy's out of commission, you gotta be on giftshop duty." Stan said in a tone that brooked no argument. Dipper opened his mouth to do just that and his grunkle cut him short, "I'll pay you." Reluctantly, he set his fork and knife down, wiping his hands on the cloth napkin tucked in his shirt.
Even Mabel had stopped flipping pancakes to watch as Stan dug into his coat pocket and forced him to take a creased fifty-dollar bill. The old man looked regretfully at his plate momentarily, then pushed himself back from the table. "Would ya look at the time, I gotta go do some... Stuff. Yeah." He straightened the lapels of his jacket before shooting Dipper another baleful glare. "Kid, if I find out you've gone over to Corduroy's against my wishes, I'll make sure you're on werewolf duty for the rest of the damn summer."
Dipper blanched- not werewolf duty. The cheap glue and fake fur gave him hives. Not to mention the humiliation.
Stan's apparent ire softened to stern satisfaction. "Now eat your flippin' pancakes." And with that, he beat a hasty retreat. The twins watched him exit, stunned, only to be shaken out of their stupor when Stan hollered, "AND HELP YOUR SISTER WITH THE DISHES!"
"Well, that was weird!" Mabel exclaimed, breaking the silence.
Dipper nodded, staring down at the fifty dollars still in his outstretched hand. "Was I just bribed or threatened?" He asked, bemused.
"Both?" Mabel laughed, taking Stan's place at the table with her plate and a mug piled high with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. They lapsed into silence again as each of them ate their breakfast, Dipper cutting a small wedge out of his stack while Mabel drowned hers in a deluge of pure maple syrup.
"Why, though?" Dipper asked, chewing thoughtfully. "Very suspicious, if you ask me." Mabel, for once was mum, aside from the muffled sound of agreement she managed around her mouthful of food. She swallowed laboriously and chased the bite with a gulp of her hot cocoa.
"Maybe he's covering for Wendy?" She offered, wiping her whipped cream mustache away with the back of her hand. They pondered this silently for a moment. Stan Pines? Helping Wendy, the admitted laziest employee of the Mystery Shack team skip out on a week of work?
"Naaaaah." They chimed almost in unison.
They continued with breakfast, each scrolling through their phones and getting up to date with their socials when Dipper got a text from Pacifica.
'so are we going swimming today?'
Dipper sighed. Of course, he'd much rather be floating in the Northwest family's private pool with her than at the Mystery Shack, but promises were promises.
'Sorry I can't. Gotta work at the shack today.'
'WHAT just skip
why do they even need you there :('
'Haha, I wish! Mabel's working on a project with Soos and Wendy's out sick so I'm on register duty.'
'why can't soos' wife do it'
'Too short notice to ask. How about tomorrow?'
'kinda seems like you're just not interested.'
'What? Of course I'm interested!'
He waited for her reply... and waited. Dipper pushed the last of his breakfast away, his appetite stolen by nerves. Was she mad at him? He sighed, flipping his phone face down on the table before gathering his dishes up.
"Everything ok?" Mabel asked, ever observant of her twin's moods.
"Oh yeah, no problem."
At least he hoped so.
It was a slow day for tourists. Dipper took the first shift at the cash register while Mabel helped Soos with an exhibit at the start of the day, and by lunch, he'd only given one tour to an elderly couple with less interest in the exhibits and more interest in the bathroom. Dipper put the 'Back in 5' sign on the screen door and headed back to the kitchen where Melody, Soos, and Mabel were eating lunch already.
"You guys mind if I take my lunch upstairs?" He asked, eager to get a little reading in on the roof.
"Go for it, my dude!" Soos smiled through a mouthful of chicken empanada. He and Melody had brought enough of Abuelita's best for everyone on shift that day. Dipper wrapped two in a napkin and made his way back upstairs. After a little finagling, he was up through the hatch and in the old lawn chair with his lunch and a weatherbeaten old copy of Bradbury's 'Illustrated Man' he'd borrowed from Ford's study. He took a moment to savor his solitude before diving into the pages... It was hard to remember the last time he had a moment of daylight for himself alone. He'd been spending so much of his free time with Pacifica that he'd almost forgotten what it was like.
His smile waned, remembering their conversation at breakfast. Should he check in with her? Wait a while longer to gauge her mood?
Impulsively, he pulled out his phone and checked his messages.
Still no reply. No response from Wendy, either.
He was trapped in limbo. At least it was kind of pleasant, here with his lunch and his book and the bright sunshine... But still unsure, a rudderless purgatory.
"Hey!"
An unfamiliar voice brought him back to reality. Someone was hailing him from the ground, so he set his book aside and leaned forward to peek over the edge of the roof. His heart sank a little at the sight of Tambry looking up at him, her phone in one hand and the other on her hip. She'd hurt Wendy so much that one summer that his vague impression of her had been tarnished ever since. He smoothed the frown off his face, determined to keep things cordial."What's up?"
Maybe his delivery was a bit too curt. As his question Tambry faltered, looking around for a moment, down to her phone, reflexively, then back up at him. "Can I come up for a minute?" She asked.
An edge of determination in her voice fired Dipper's curiosity… Besides, he had no reason to say no.
The situation brought to mind a castle keep: Dipper, the guard, Tambry the petitioner. If they had been friends, he might've given a regal bow and a short speech, maybe an 'Enter, weary traveler' or something equally pithy.
They weren't though, so he kept it short and polite. "Yeah. There are empanadas in the kitchen if you want one."
A few minutes later, Tambry was up the ladder and on the roof with him. Dipper had another lawn chair unfolded and she dropped into it with a great sigh of relief. "Thanks, just gimme a second." She pulled out her phone and started scrolling, taking little bites of her food now and again. He watched her, trying to puzzle out what she was doing here.
"Have you talked to Wendy lately?" He asked hopefully.
"Yeah." Her mouth twitched up at the corners and then flattened into a thin line.
"...Is she ok? I heard she wasn't feeling well."
No answer, but she seemed to be wrestling with a grin that wanted to burst across her features. Wrestling, and losing.
The silence drew out at length. Dipper checked his watch, his annoyance building as his lunch break ticked by. "Did you have something you wanted to say?" He winced at the frustration that had leaked into his voice but was gratified at the result. She finally looked up from her phone, staring him down with intense, measuring eyes. He held her gaze, unwilling to be intimidated the way he might have been at twelve. She sighed, the tension broken as finished her food.
"Wendy's fine. I wouldn't worry too much. You'll see her in the flesh at my Summerween party Saturday night."
Dipper relaxed a little, relief filling him, "Good, I've been so worried about her. I was going to go visit her today but then I had to work and– What? Summerween?" He had nearly forgotten about the local holiday. Sure, his first impression of it had been awful, having dealt with its titular Trickster directly, but Tambry's annual house party was the event of the summer for any teenager in town. Neither he nor Mabel had ever gone.
"Yeah, I'm inviting you and your sister. What, you don't wanna come?" She teased.
"Yes— wait, no. Shit— I mean, we'll be there." He stammered, stumbling over his thoughts. Sure, he disliked Tambry, but her party was the party to be at on Summerween. It was at least slightly exciting to get an invite directly from the hostess herself. "You came all the way out here just for that?"
She digested the question, looking at her lap, then back up at him. "Real talk? I know you don't like me very much– Especially since I was an absolute bitch to Wendy last summer. You were there for her when I couldn't be and that means a lot. So consider my invite an olive branch. As the two best friends of the coolest girl in Gravity Falls, we're gonna have to get along from here on out."
Dipper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from Tambry when she joined him up on the roof, but it wasn't this. Despite himself, he smiled. "Wow… Thanks?"
"No problem." Tambry breezed, "I have this friend who's got a funny thing about nerdy little kids," Tambry said, smiling broadly. "Besides, I don't have your cell. I would've texted you." At this, she held out her hand, dark plum-colored nail polish glittering in the afternoon sun.
"What?"
"Your phone. Fork it over, dork– I mean, Dipper."
Dipper held his phone out to her. She grabbed it and called herself to capture his phone number before handing it back. "There," she stood to leave, "I'll send ya the deets later. Bring your friends! Bring your girlfriend, even!"
She was halfway down the ladder when she spoke again. "Thanks for lunch!"
Alone again, he sat back down with his book, awash with satisfaction and excitement at the prospect of the Summerween party. He started reading again.
It was difficult to focus.
"The color of the sun, the color of the sea, the color of a flower, the color of the mountains, the color of the night."
What would his costume be? They had so many at the Mystery Shack that he was spoiled for choice.
"The color of the sun, the color of the sea, the color of a flower, the color of the mountains—."
At least he wouldn't have to be roped into one of Mabel's homemade twin costumes again. She'd probably want to do a group thing with Candy and Grenda, anyway.
"The color of the sun, the color of the sea, the color of a flower—"
Pacifica might want to do a couple's costumes…
"The color of the sun, the color of the s—"
Dipper dropped the book, his focus completely ruined as he read the same line for the fourth time.
She had told him to bring his girlfriend.
Tambry knew.
Therefore, Wendy probably also knew.
At her knowing, he had expected a kind of relief, even if bittersweet. Instead, a yawning sense of loss drew over him, casting a pall over the sunbaked warmth of the day. He had wanted to tell her himself, but somehow, the ever-churning rumor mill of Gravity Falls had stolen away his chance. He leaned forward in the lounge chair and buried his face in his hands. What could he do?
His phone buzzed.
A text from Tambry sat at the top of his messages, her bubbly style of writing totally at odds with the flat effect she spoke with in person. Her address, the date, and the time.
'C u there! :))))))))))'
He set the phone down again. Getting annoyed with her accomplished nothing. Even if she had been the one to tell Wendy, what difference did it make? Would his delivery of the news be any different?
The soft warmth of her skin rose to the surface of his memory without warning and he scrubbed his hands over his eyes, as if to banish the thought. Enough.
He steeled himself. It was just a party– no, it was the best party of the summer. If Tambry was extending the invitation to Pacifica, knowing that she was dating him, then everything was fine, wasn't it? He was just being a fucking weirdo.
It would probably be the last big Summerween party for a long time.
…And he still really wanted to go.
Dipper picked up his phone again and texted Pacifica.
'Any plans for Summerween?'
She texted back within seconds.
'Ya we're going to my country club'
'Oh you and your fam?'
'And u'
At this, he frowned. She hadn't said anything about it before.
'Wanna ditch and go to the best party in town?'
She was typing for a moment or two.
'U mean my family's party
At Bellingham'
He couldn't believe that she'd never heard of Tambry's party. Wendy had once said that news of any party at Tam's house went through the youthful population of Gravity Falls like a bad case of mono. He said as much in his next text.
'Dip that sounds real great and all but we HAVE to go to bellingham'
'Why am I only hearing about this now?'
'Idk I thought u would just be w Mabel at ur grunkle's'
His annoyance flared again. It was true that they'd always done Summerween at the Shack. Candy and Grenda usually stayed the night, and the main event of the evening was the monster movie marathon on TV topped off with a horde of discounted sweets.
'Not this year! We were invited to Tambry's... You are too!'
'I don't wanna hang in a basement w a bunch of randos
Cmon babe I really want u to meet my friends'
'It won't be random people, I'll be there. Plus, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda'
And Wendy. His mind chimed in.
'Ur being a duck
Dick'
As much as he resisted, the conversation dragged into argument territory. They bickered back and forth until Dipper was summoned back to the gift shop for the rest of the day. Nothing was resolved, and he reluctantly left her on read while he ran several large groups of tourists through the shack's current exhibits. Two hours later he picked up his phone again to find that it was still blowing up with text notifications from Pacifica. He scrolled through, reading as the litany of passive aggression transformed into full-on aggression. Then suddenly, she was all apologies.
'just ignore all that :'(
I'm so used to everything working out so this is kinda hard'
She wasn't used to hearing 'no', save from her parents. As fun as she could be most of the time, he knew that was still very much the case.
I really wanna spend time with you before Roche Harbor
He'd almost forgotten about her family trip next week.
'Why don't we compromise?
Dinner with your fam and then after we could go to Tambry's thing'
'K'
They hadn't fought this badly since before they had started dating, and it just felt so… weird. He shrugged off the unsettled feeling. It wasn't worth dwelling on– they were both getting what they wanted! He didn't relish the prospect of sitting through dinner with the yuppie set of the county, but at least Pacifica would be there. Then they would go join up with Mabel and dance the night away… And he'd finally be able to talk to Wendy!
Dipper stared out the window into the black, listening to the sullen retreat of thunder as it rumbled at ever-lengthening intervals. The worst of the storm was passing over, yet here he was: still wading through the mire of his thoughts.
All said and done, he'd come to understand that feeling of loss that reared its head that day.
His feelings for Wendy had been a tangle that he strove to pick apart with time and patience… But that golden day at Lookout Point had spun out something new: a thin hope that shone brightly in that snarl, making it beautiful. Making it so much more complicated.
His worst fear had been that when Wendy found out that he was dating Pacifica, that little hope would just-
Snap.
And be gone. Forever.
All his dithering, all his planning, and all his practiced speeches had been pointless. The truth was that he simply didn't want her to know.
Stupid? Yes. Regret? Of course, he did.
He could have had courage. He could have kissed Wendy that day, in defiance of all he held sane and rational, in defiance of what he'd thought was right and fair… and whatever happened after that would've been better than this bleak gray area that had ripped his friendships with both her and Pacifica apart.
"Coffee!" Mabel chimed, entering the room with two steaming cups and a jam jar filled with milk all perched on a small tray. His sister's rearrival into the room broke Dipper's reverie and he smiled wanly as he took the tray from her hands. She settled back onto the bed across from him and as they each doctored up their drinks with milk and sugar she spoke, "Feeling a little better?"
He sipped, the warmth spreading through his body. "A little." He rasped. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it lovingly. That was Mabel's special power: with just that bejeweled hand, she could pull him out of that mire of anxiety and self-loathing… Even if only a little bit. "Thanks, sis."
"Always, Bro-bro!" She beamed, the metal wire of her retainer twinkling in the little light of their old bedroom. Dipper knew then that he'd never forget this conversation. Even when they were older, drifting apart and living their own lives… whatever happened after all was said and done, his sister was there for him and would always be.
They sat in comfortable silence, drinking and holding hands. He knew she was waiting for him to continue his story. It was late, and there was so much left to say.
"That night of the Summerween party… You remember how Pacifica and her parents picked me up with her chauffeur?"
Mabel snorted. "I remember her face when she saw your costume!"
The nervous smile dwindled on Dipper's face and he flipped the old eyepatch up on his forehead. The silence in the back of the limousine positively crackled with disapproval as all three members of the Northwest family looked anywhere but at him.
"Driver, how much longer?" Priscilla Northwest jammed the intercom button down with her manicured finger and scoffed at the response that they'd arrive in ten minutes. She and her husband glanced at him, their faces closed like a pair of fists.
He didn't think dressing up like Stan Pines would be that big a deal.
When they had come to pick him up, Pacifica met him at the door to the shack just as he was adjusting his thin bowtie in front of the gift shop mirror.
"Oh no." She murmured, her gloved hand massaging her temple in disbelief. "Please tell me that's not what you're wearing."
"How come?" He looked down at himself, still pleased with his appearance despite her dismay. Stan may have been cheap when it came to lots of things, but never his suits. Even this old loaner he'd found buried in the shack's costume closet was made from fine wool made soft with years of wear. There were leather patches on the elbows, stitched with care to hide holes born from years of the old man leaning over gambling tables and bar countertops… Mabel even helped him alter it for a better fit. They had done their best to get the thick smell of cigar smoke out of the fabric, but it was no use.
Pacifica floundered for an explanation as he grabbed his fez and 8-ball cane. The chauffeur called her, patience wearing thin in the back of the limo, and she threw her hands up. "Alright, fine, whatever!" She cried, exasperated. Dipper held the door for her and watched as she marched back to the car, beautiful and imperious in her frosty blue princess gown and tiara.
He turned back, shouting through the door of the house, "Heading out now! See you guys later!" He heard the rustling of paper and the squeak of rubber as Mabel rushed out into the gift shop, half of her grape costume finished.
"Pacifica didn't wanna say hi?" She asked, breathless. After all, she'd been blowing up balloons for the past fifteen minutes.
"I think her parents wanna go." He looked back over to Pacifica, who was standing by the car. "She doesn't like my costume."
Mabel wrinkled her nose, "HI GIRL!" Mabel shouted, waving with vigor. Pacifica waved back in the way that monarchs and dignitaries do when they're on parade. "Her outfit is SO pretty! I gotta ask her where she got it!"
"Later, Mabe! I gotta go!"
"Mabel, can you help me with this bedazzler?" Grenda's voice thundered from the kitchen, their main base of Summerween operations. Mabel sighed and gave Dipper a big hug.
"Ok, ok, ok, have FUN schmoozing with all those high-falootin' fancy pantses, but not too much so that you guys forget to come to Tambry's!"
Dipper laughed, "That won't be too hard, I hope."
They finished their goodbyes and he rushed out to the car, where the chauffeur held the door for him and Pacifica. The back of the car was long. It was a limo, after all, but Preston and Priscilla Northwest had elected to sit on the plush leather couches in the back corner, closest to the minibar. Their cheerful conversation silenced at his arrival, their smiles replaced with blank shock. Once the pair overcame their stunned silence, attempts at chit-chat were made. Even with Pacifica's stellar experience at shepherding the conversation, the usual pleasantries and questions about his work on their family legacy petered out into an awkward silence that Dipper had hoped would end with their arrival at the country club.
It didn't.
Pacifica's parents left the limo first, hurrying down the covered walk toward the front entrance. Dipper thanked the driver as he got out and caught a look of sympathy from him before the man broke eye contact to scrub at a spot on the roof of the car. He didn't have much time to think about it, as Pacifica grabbed his hand and hurried to keep up with her parents down the immaculate brick walk. The garden beds were at their summer peak, the heady smell of flowers intermingled with the cloying sweetness of freshly carved watermelons that were placed at intervals all the way to the front door.
"Are you gonna tell me why my costume has made me persona non grata?" He whispered.
"It's not you–" Pacifica bit her lip prettily, "It's Stan... He's super blacklisted from the club. For life."
"What?!"
"I mean officially INSANELY super blacklisted. It's a demerit against your membership if you even mention Stan Pines on the premises and the President…"
She fell silent as their party passed through the opulent double-door entry. The maitre d' greeted them all, melting Pacifica's parents at least with his obsequious fawning over their costumes, even going so far as to kiss the back of Priscilla's hand, earning a titter of laughter from the woman herself.
"Take the fez off," Pacifica whispered harshly. At Dipper's look of incredulity, "I'm serious, babe!"
He took it off just as the maitre d's attention swung to them.
"Ms. Northwest! Such a beautiful costume! If I didn't know it was Summerween, I should have thought we were being visited by the whole royal family!" Pacifica mirrored his smile, thanking him demurely. "And who is this young gentleman?"
"Dipper Pi-"
"My date for the evening!" Pacifica broke in, squeezing Dipper's hand urgently. He stared at her as she proceeded to spin the vaguest yarn about how his family was big in the tourism industry and how he was the heir apparent… Apparently.
"Well!" The maitre'd clutched his own collar, "Here I'd thought we had all the best families in the county, but of course, we're always looking for new blood." He looked at them both expectantly.
"Aaah I get it… because you're supposed to be Dracula," Dipper laughed a few beats later. Pacifica blushed, laughing as she gripped his arm.
"Well, happy Summerween! We better catch up with my parents!" She declared, pulling him out of the lobby and out of the man's earshot, "That's his uniform. What's wrong with you?!"
Dipper looked back, honestly confused by the entire exchange. "Really? He always looks like that? I could swear he's a dead ringer for Bela Lugosi."
Pacifica pulled him along the corridor where some children were running up and down throwing candy at each other amidst the festive decorations. "Yes, really… Now if we can just get through this dinner without mentioning the Mystery Shack or the Pines family or ANYTHING related to Stan then maybe our membership won't get ripped to shreds by the end of it."
"How did you think this was going to work? Why didn't you tell me this was going to be an issue?"
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I figured you'd just get mad and not want to come if I did."
"Well, I might be mad, if it weren't kind of funny."
"It's not. We're putting a lot on the line to bring you with us!"
"It is and I didn't really want to come to this anyway!"
"Who's Bella Legosi? Do I know her?"
"Nope…"
The dinner was delicious, at least. If only Dipper had any appetite. He and Pacifica were seated at a table of kids around their age, which had been a relief at first until they all started talking about their summer plans. One girl whined that her parents were abandoning their usual summer plans out on a private yacht in Fiji.
"...So we have to spend the rest of the summer in Long Island, all because my stupid cousin wanted to have a destination wedding."
"Oh, but I've heard Montauk is so pretty this time of year." Pacifica jumped in, "Isn't it, babe?" She looked over at Dipper who was more focused on his salad than the conversation.
"Montauk? Wha—"
Before he could finish, she grabbed his hand under the table and gave it a hard squeeze. "Yeah, you know, cute little vacation town, not too far from Manhattan."
Dipper couldn't recall ever talking about it with her before. Hell, he'd never been east of the Mississippi in his life… And yet in this split second, she was looking at him expectantly, her beautiful face beaming and her eyes narrowed at him expectantly.
Oh.
He cleared his throat and proceeded to lie: "Yeah, great little town." He felt his face heat up and stared down into his salad as the conversation continued. Not Montauk, but some other town. Not nearly as great as Fiji.
"Well, maybe you'll meet a hottie at the wedding." Pacifica offered. The girl rolled her eyes in disdain.
"Sure, if it weren't limited to close friends and family only… The best I could hope for is a hot busboy or something, but even that's a stretch. It's still Long Island…"
He was very much out of his depth, and at every turn in the conversation, he could feel Pacifica coaxing him to go a little further in. Especially when the others at the table began to ask questions about his family.
"So what does your family do?" The tall slim boy dressed impeccably as Captain America asked him. Dipper could feel a rill of sweat drip down his temple as he considered how to answer.
He cleared his throat and drank some water to buy time as he racked his brain for an answer. "Historic preservation." It was a half-truth at best, and his soul died a little more when the bored expression on the boy's face brightened into interest.
"So like, private museums? Or art collecting? My family made a pretty nice contribution to the Seattle Art Museum about a year ago and we've been looking to replenish ever since. My dad's a big Chagall guy. Personally, I'm not a fan."
"No… More like the reenactment of local history, culture, folktales… That sort of thing."
The interest was gone. "Oh, cool. Not really my thing, but cool!" The boy turned to his friend on the left and the pair began a deeply intense conversation about their JV golf team's preseason retreat, leaving Dipper in the blissful state of being ignored. He took the opportunity to stand up from the table, but Pacifica grabbed his sleeve.
"Where are you going?" Her voice was full of laughter but her eyes betrayed her apprehension, like he would commit a social atrocity as soon as he left her side.
"Just to the bathroom." He patted her hand and urged her to release him. "Don't worry, I promise I won't embarrass you." He was more than a little sarcastic and as he walked away, he could almost feel her glare burning holes in the back of his jacket.
He stopped dead in the middle of the dining room. Now that he thought about it, where was the toilet, anyway?
Dipper checked his watch. Its digital display read 10:46 pm, nearly an hour later than the time they'd agreed on to leave for Tambry's party. He looked up at Pacifica, lovely in her shimmering blue tulle, wreathed in other costumed partygoers and deep in a conference about some piece of gossip that was going around their prep school set.
He had long since given up on following along. So far, the whole evening had been like an alien abduction for him, except the only extraterrestrial was some girl to Pacifica's left clad in a silvery mini dress and springy antennae, who kept chiming into the conversation with exultant cries of, "Holy shit, that is so fucking SAVAGE."
He forced himself through a tight gap in the group right beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. "Time to go?" He asked hopefully. She cast a glance up at him over her shoulder briefly before returning to the topic at hand.
"So anyway…"
Dipper felt lost, restless, and above all, thoroughly put out. He'd come as her date, to meet her friends, to please her parents, to support her, and now it seemed like she didn't want anything to do with him. He was stranded, who knows how far away from home, at the bougiest party of his young life.
How was he to get off this planet?
He backed away from the circle and peered out the window. Nothing but golf course for miles. He could try to explain his situation to the Northwest family's chauffeur, but Dipper guessed that nothing short of a generous bribe would convince the man to abandon his post. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through contacts. Only Soos, Wendy, Stan or Ford could drive out to Bellingham to pick him up.
Soos was out– he was having dinner at Melody's, meeting her family for the first time.
Stan was out, for obvious reasons.
Which meant Ford was also probably out.
That left Wendy.
No, she was probably already at Tambry's.
He missed her.
"Babe, come join the party!" Pacifica's voice made him jump in surprise as he simultaneously turned his phone off. "Don't be such an anti-social weirdo and dance with me!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him out onto the floor. She looked over her shoulder at him, her grin fading slightly at his stiff expression. "What's wrong?"
He pulled her close so she could hear him over the loud dance music, "We were supposed to leave an hour ago!"
"You're still going on about that?" She laughed, gyrating her hips in time to the beat.
She was adorable, and part of him wanted to join her in the dance, but the evening was already strangely tainted by all the other weirdness that had come before… Most of it was not even her fault. If anything, it was Stan's. Whatever he'd done to get banned from Bellingham Country Club had been dire in the eyes of the local gentry, and yet she and her family had gone out of their way to bring him into the fold.
It was just that he hated it– the fake humility, the vapid gossip, the empty display of wealth and birthright… He especially hated how faithless Pacifica's act was. It all seemed for the benefit of her peers. He thought she'd put that need for control behind her when they were kids, but suddenly, the queen bee was back in full force.
It took everything in him not to whine, "But you promised!" at her, so instead he pulled out his phone.
"What are you doing?" She followed him as he made a beeline for the hallway to the foyer.
"I'm just calling Ford to see if I can get a ride back to town."
He looked up from dialing to see her catch up with him, her silvery blue dress billowing as she glared up at him.
"I can't believe you're actually doing this right now."
"I'm only doing what we agreed on. You can stay here if you want!"
She rolled her beautiful eyes at him. "I know you're smart enough to realize how embarrassing that would be."
"Then come with me! Like you said you would!" Dipper cried in exasperation. They stared each other down, Pacifica's eyes glittering with unshed tears in the low light of the hallway. A group of children scampered by, playing tag with their au pair. Pacifica broke her gaze, folding her arms across her chest.
"Fine, but we're taking my car." She said flatly.
After bidding their goodbyes to her slightly surprised friends and reassuring her parents that she would be home safe and sound later that evening, Pacifica and Dipper were finally on their way back to Gravity Falls in the back of the Northwest family's limousine.
If the ride to Bellingham had been bad, the ride to Tambry's had been almost unbearable.
"I hope you're happy," Pacifica grumbled, finally cutting through the tension as she leaned toward the minibar. Dipper watched as she made herself a rum and coke. He wasn't happy, not satisfied at all that he was getting what he wanted.
"I'd be happier if you were happier." He offered quietly.
Her laugh was derisive as she sipped her cocktail. "Maybe I would be if we hadn't left the party."
This was going nowhere.
They looked away from each other, Dipper looking at the back of the chauffeur's head and wondering if the man would narc on Pacifica for stealing from the mobile liquor cabinet. He glanced back at her. The smile was gone.
"I'm sorry. I know it wasn't very fun for you." Pacifica sighed, staring down at her cocktail. She suddenly handed it to him sheepishly. "Truce?"
He took the glass from her, the ice cubes clinking merrily in the silence of the limo. "Truce." He repeated back, smiling. He took a sip from her glass, the cold sweet soda softening the burn of the alcohol, but not much. He winced at its strength, "Is your driver gonna rat us out for underage drinking?"
At this, Pacifica laughed, "Oh no. He knows which side his bread is buttered on." She busied herself at the bar again, making another drink for herself, glancing down the length of the limo at her driver. He waved a hand at them and raised the privacy screen. "See?" She grinned at Dipper, sitting herself down beside him. She paused, wrinkling her beautiful brow for a moment before she raised her glass. "To us, I guess!"
"To Summerween!" Dipper returned, knocking his glass to hers. He tipped his drink back again, the heat of the rum raising a flush to his cheeks.
Maybe Bellingham hadn't been that bad.
Besides, there was still a lot of night left.
Icebreaker
Naoko Asakura
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters!
A/N: Ayyy just a little goblin emerging from her hidey hole to finally publish this friggin chapter. BTW my personal headcannon for why Stan got permabanned from Bellingham Country Club is just the plot to Caddyshack. Maybe someday, I'll write a prequel/spinoff to IB with that plot in mind… Probably not though!