Work Text:
Rethinking
By William Easley
(June 2012)
Thompson started the engine and drove away from the Dusk2Dawn convenience store.
“Where’d you hide, man?” Wendy asked Robbie.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Robbie muttered. He crossed his arms and stared out the passenger-side window of Thompson’s mom’s van. “I didn’t hide!”
“Yeah, tell another one,” Tambry said in a snarky voice, but without glancing up from her phone, where she was updating—Got trapped in a B&W surveillance TV inside a haunted convenience store, lame!—“I could see where you hid from where I was, you know.”
Robbie grunted. “I just, uh, looked for a broom closet, ‘cause I thought, you know, I’d find a weapon to fight those creepy ghosts. And it was like the wrong room, and, uh, the door got stuck, OK?”
“He ran into the ladies’ room,” Nate said, snickering. “I could see you too, Robbie. I mean, I was a hot dog at the time, man, but I saw when you snuck into the ladies’ room!”
“Gross,” Lee said. “Didn’t the toilet water, like, soak you when the place turned upside-down?”
“Huh?” Robbie asked. “Don’t talk crazy.”
“You mean the ladies’ john didn’t turn upside-down?” Wendy asked.
Thompson braked at the foot of the driveway to the funeral home. “This is me,” Robbie said with obvious relief. He unfastened his seatbelt and opened the passenger door.
“It’s still, like, early, man!” Nate said.
“Yeah, well, I gotta rest my hands,” Robbie said. “The Tombstones are practicing tomorrow.” He hopped out, then slouched his way to the funeral home door.
“I wonder how come the funeral home’s not haunted,” Lee said. “There must be like a ton of dead dudes around, right?”
“Let’s talk about all that later,” Wendy said.
Nate and Lee decided to hang out in Circle Park for a while, so they got out next, and then Thompson drove to Tambry’s house. She got out with a “Later!” while still intent on her phone.
From there Thompson made a turn onto Gopher Road and braked in the Mystery Shack lot. “Thanks,” Dipper said, waiting for Mabel to clamber out.
“It was kinda fun, whatevs,” Mabel said. “But after that Smile Dip stuff, I think I just wanna crash for the next day and a half.”
Dipper shut the door and the twins walked across the side lawn to the gift-shop entrance. Just as Thompson made a tight U-turn in the lot, Wendy heard a crash. She said, “Hey, Thompson, just let me out here, OK?”
“What, you’re gonna walk home?” Thompson asked. “It’s like, seven miles or some deal!”
“Yeah, but I just remembered I left my bike here. It’s cool, I got a headlight on it and all.”
“Well—if you’re sure. My Mom wants me to get the van back by—”
“Go on, I’m OK.” Wendy got out and watched the van taillights go down the drive to Gopher Road and then make the turn.
She walked around the Shack to the living-room window and saw the TV set lying on the lawn. Huh. She could hear voices from inside, Stan and the twins. She grunted as she picked up the TV and lugged it over to the family door. She set it down on the stoop and then went around to the back porch and sat on the saggy old sofa for a while. Just watching the night pass. Just thinking.
She checked her phone for the time. Ten-forty. Her dad and brothers had probably already turned in. What the heck, she was probably OK for spending the night at the Shack. She’d done it before. Her bike was here, true, and it wasn’t any seven-mile drive from here to the Corduroy house, more like five and a half. If she really pumped the pedals, she could make that in less than twenty minutes.
Still, it would be better to make that bike ride at 5:30 A.M. than at nearly midnight. And as long as she arrived at the Corduroy house before six, her dad would never know. She’d stayed over at Tambry’s before, always managing to get home just before Manly Dan woke up.
After sitting on the back porch for a while, listening to owls and crickets—one of the owls, must be a young Northern Pygmy, trilled almost like a cricket itself, the sound high-pitched and metallic. More distant owls of different species gave hollow hoo! calls.
Wendy got up and walked around to the museum side, just in time to see the dim yellow light up in the triangular attic window go out. The twins must be just about asleep. She continued around the house and used her key to unlock the gift-shop door. Just inside, she paused to remove her boots, and carrying them, she went quietly into the parlor. The sofa there was just long enough for her to stretch out on. For a pillow and cover, she used one of the souvenir cushions from the gift shop (“SITTIN’ PRETTY IN THE MYSTERY SHACK”) and a fleece throw (“GRAVITY FALLS/JUST WEST OF WEIRD”).
Yeah, those would do. But first she wanted just to stare at the walls.
The clock ticked toward midnight as she sat on the sofa, legs drawn up, hugging her shins. The dim glow of the security light leaked in from the gift shop, just enough to make the shadows deeper. And then she heard a creak.
She turned in time to see Dipper, in tee shirt and tighty-whity underpants, edge through the doorway, gripping a baseball bat.
Wendy chuckled, “Don’t beat on me, man. I’m not hurting anything.”
Dipper froze in mid-step. “Wendy?”
“Yeah, it’s me, dude. Didn’t feel like going home. Been doing some thinking.”
“Uh—let me—” he backed out and she heard him creak his hasty way up the stairs, then back down. When he came in again, he was wearing his cargo shorts, though still in tee shirt and socks. “Um. I.”
She moved over and patted the sofa. “Sit with me if you want. I got us a blanket if you’re cold.”
He had at least left the bat upstairs. He came over, shyly, and sat not quite touching her. “Some night, huh?”
“Yep.” She sighed. “You know, I’m used to the Falls being weird. My dad talks about stuff like the Hide-Behind. That’s some kind of critter or spirit or some biz that spies on you out in the woods, but you can’t ever see it ‘cause it’s real skinny and hides the second before you can lay eyes on it. And the Gnomes, they’re real—well, I think I’ve seen ‘em, and Mabel said you two had a run-in with them. But they’re weird, too.”
“I wouldn’t have thought they were real until we saw some,” Dipper said. “I mean, I thought that zombies roamed around Gravity Falls.”
“Huh? What made you think that?” asked Wendy.
“Uh, something I read somewhere,” Dipper said, squirming a little.
“Huh. Zombies. Hope I never run into one! But after what we saw at the convenience store, I mean—ghosts, man.”
“Yeah,” Dipper said.
Slowly and thoughtfully, Wendy said, “So ghosts are a thing.”
“I know, right?” Dipper said. “I mean, I’ve watched the Ghost Harassers show for a couple of years now, but—you know. I never expected to see a real ghost. I’m not sure I believed in real ghosts—you know.”
“Right,” Wendy said. “I guess I feel the same way. Always thought that ghost stories were just spooky tales to tell at campfires and all. But then that old couple—and all the spooky junk they pulled on us—good thing you knew what to do.”
“I’ve read a lot of books about ghosts,” Dipper said. “About how people only come back to earth if they have unfinished business. Or I guess if they want to protect something that they love—” he shrugged.
“Or if they hate teenagers,” Wendy said. She put a hand on his shoulder, making him shiver. “Straight up, dude, going up against those two spooks took guts. Good on you.”
A pause. Then Dipper muttered, “To tell you the truth, it took more guts to, uh.” He trailed off.
“To do the lamby dance?” Wendy asked, nudging him.
He blushed so hard that she didn’t have to see him—she practically felt the heat radiating off his face. “Thanks for not telling everybody.”
“I really thought you were cute, Dipper. But also brave. So you didn’t grab a baseball bat and smack ‘em down, so what? You faced ‘em down and got them to let us all go.” She sighed. “Unfinished business or something to protect, huh? Do you think that everybody eventually becomes, you know, a ghost?”
“I don’t think anybody knows the answer to that,” Dipper said. “The, um, the lore? I guess that’s what I mean. The lore says that when a person dies, if they have something they care deeply about or something they regret, then they might come back to watch over or haunt the living. Like if somebody’s murdered, their ghost might come back to look for revenge. But if the person doesn’t have any kind of stuff left on earth to worry about, they go on to their final reward.”
“Or punishment,” Wendy said.
“Yeah, I guess—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Wendy said, but her voice sounded weepy.
“Did I say something wrong?” Dipper asked.
She leaned against him, and then she could barely hold back her sobs. “Let me—just give me a second . . ..”
Dipper started to stand up. “I’ll go and leave you alone—”
She closed her hand on his wrist. “’S OK,” she said softly. She gulped a couple of times. Then she said, “It’s just, you know. My mom.”
“Do you need her? Do you want me to call her—”
“You don’t understand.” Wendy took a long, long breath. “She’s no—no longer with us.” When Dipper just sat down silently again, she added, “She died when I was real little.”
Dipper sounded miserable: “Wendy, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” She said. She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You’re kinda new in town.”
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” Dipper said.
“What time is it? Midnight. Hey, man, I think I’d better go home.” She pulled her boots on.
“In the dark?” Dipper asked.
“Moon’s up now. And my bike has a headlight. I’ll be OK.”
“I’ll walk you home—”
She hugged him, briefly. “Some things you have to do alone, Dip. I’m not afraid. I guess I kinda feel like—” she broke off.
Dipper said quietly, “Like your mom’s still looking over you.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Hey, Dipper, so I’m fifteen and you’re not yet thirteen, right?”
“Right,” Dipper said. “I lied to you because I, uh, I mean we wanted to hang out with you and your gang. I’m so sorry.”
“We can still be friends, though,” Wendy said.
Dipper gulped audibly. “I’d like that,” he all but whispered.
“Me, too. I really gotta go now. “ She couldn’t hold back a yawn. “It’s gonna be hard for me to get in on time tomorrow—”
“I’ll cover for you,” Dipper said.
“Aw, dude.”
“I want to,” Dipper said. “It’s what a friend would do.”
Wendy stood up. “Just for one hour,” she said. “Tell Mr. Pines I’ll be in by ten.”
“Got it. Uh, be careful.”
She ruffled his hair. “Thanks, friend.”
After dropping the cushion and throw back on the sale table, Wendy left by the gift-shop door. At a few days past full, the moon was strong enough to give everything a pearly sort of light, though the trees looked strangely pale. Almost ghostly.
Wendy hauled out her bike, stood for a moment holding onto the handlebars, and then gazed up at the starry sky. “Miss you, Mom,” she murmured.
Then she swung aboard and set off for the long uphill ride home.
The End