Chapter Text
The worst part, Pacifica decides, is that she didn't really expect her dad to go through with it. Maybe that was her mistake. He'd talked a lot of big game about shipping her off to camp, but usually the specter of her mother kept real consequences from her door. Not this time.
There's a moment when, as her mom sobs into Pacifica's shoulders and discreetly neatens the rumples in her shirt, it looks like Preston is close to caving. Then he stands a touch straighter and scowls; that's the real tell. He nods. “Behave yourself, Pacifica,” he warns, clicking a finger at their chauffeur. “I need not remind you that any actions bringing our family into disrepute will not be tolerated.”
“I know, dad. I'll behave.”
His scowl evens, just a touch. “Mm. Alright. Give your mother a kiss goodbye and we must be away. We're closing a big deal tonight.”
“I know,” she replies, exhausted. It's difficult to keep resentment from her tone but it will bring nothing but strife otherwise. So, performing just right, Pacifica kisses her mother on the cheek and then pries her away. “I love you mom. I'll be alright.”
The chauffeur revs the engine. Something deep-boned and insecure rises in Pacifica's throat as her parents take their place in the back, one facing stonily forward, the other face-in-hands and hiccuping my little girl, my pretty little girl, over and over as the door closes. They pull away. And then she's alone with a suitcase, a phone full of contacts that she doesn't even like, and an entire summer ahead.
Other girls are definitely gawking at what must have been The Northwests? No way, but Pacifica studiously ignores them and stalks to the main cabin of Twin Lake Summer Camp, unimaginatively named and deeply pedestrian. A cheap summer camp would ‘teach some appreciation for what her family name means’, her dad had said. Sure. The folksy cabins aren't that different from some of the offerings in Gravity Falls and it's not like they're going to be sleeping on dirt or whatever. At least Pacifica hopes not. Either way, she's going to cope just fine, and Preston Northwest can stick his ‘family name’ up his ass.
There's a small queue to sign in, which she joins and only sulks about a little bit. Most of the campers are still with their parents. Up front there's one girl moving in an agitated sway, left and right, as her mother talks to one of the camp counselors. There's something familiar about that wave of brown curls; Pacifica struggles to place it until the girl turns around and has - the face of a ghost, one that inspires several old memories to come through, things that she'd tried to forget. Mabel Pines. She looks tired and pinched, and while Pacifica correctly remembered the warm brown of her eyes, they're dull now, verging on glassy. Just like - well. Better not to think about that.
Not noticing her observer (or maybe not caring,) she turns back around. As it is, Pacifica has to wait for her turn at the desk to say something, as the counselor ticks off sheets.
“Mabel!” she hisses, waving an arm.
It does the trick. “Pacifica?” Mabel says, sounding genuinely confused and a bit like herself. “What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like? Going to camp.”
“Here?” Mabel snorts without humor. “No offense, but -”
“Alright Miss Northwest,” the counselor interrupts. “All sorted. You're in Dormitory Acorn.”
She offers a stack of offensively orange shirts and a towel, which Pacifica takes and is very particular in saying thank you, just to demonstrate that she is polite these days, and doesn't frown when Mabel rolls her eyes. “Which dorm are you in?”
“Acorn,” Mabel replies, mulishly.
-
In the end, Pacifica has to bribe her way into the top bunk of Mabel's camp bed with a pair of not inexpensive earrings. It's the final step in a dance of avoidance - Mabel picking a bottom bunk already paired up with someone else, her face set, then disappearing out to attend whatever nonsense the counselors have planned, orange t-shirt and all. It leaves Pacifica with an easy in to facilitate swapsies. She manages to feel a little bad about it, not wanting to cross boundaries on purpose, but… if there's anyone that's worth talking to in this place, it's Mabel Pines. No question.
But Mabel Pines doesn't want to talk. Not to her, and kind of not to anyone else, really, which soothes Pacifica’s ego nicely. The opening event includes lots of ice breakers, stupid little games to get people making friends, and Mabel participates a bit but mostly looks dazed, chewing on her bottom lip. She purposefully seems to ignore Pacifica’s presence. Naturally, everyone wants to get to know the Pacifica Northwest, which is laughable, because the only creature that has ever properly gotten close is her pony, who she misses kind of badly now that she thinks of it. He’s going to be so bored all summer. It inspires an increasingly-familiar twang of guilt to picture Apple Fritter in his paddock, hoofing the dirt with nothing to do.
When they get to bedtime, Mabel observes their shared bunk with a tired look. “Your bullying was less pathetic last year,” she says, then curls up on her mattress without another word.
Shit. Pacifica runs fingers through her hair, idly. Yeah, that would be her assumption, right? She climbs the little ladder and lays in bed, staring at the cracking whitewash of the dormitory ceiling. Their mattresses are hard, and the covers reek of cheap fabric softener. Pacifica grouses at this for a moment, then discards the thought. She can manage without her climate-controlled room and mattress topper for a month or two. That's what this is about, right? Being different from before. Dealing with her punishment. Not being a pampered loser.
… Even before the whole ghost thing, she wouldn't have been an asshole to the girl with the dead brother. That would be really, really lame.
I'll have to be nice, Pacifica thinks, as quiet snoring starts up around her. So super nice that she will have to change her mind about me.
-
This camp is very different to the ones that she went to when she was younger. Those lasted for a week or two, and they were the best that money could buy, with chefs trained at Michelin star restaurants, impeccable private rooms, and classes on important things like ‘table manners’ and ‘introduction to high society’. In contrast, the first morning at Twin Lake, Pacifica wakes up with insane back pain from her mattress, notices the lack of Mabel in the bottom bunk, then shuffles to the mess hall for breakfast. It’s constructed like a school gymnasium in miniature, with squeaking wood-panel flooring and bright fluorescent lighting, and long fold-out dining tables set out in rows. There’s a small queue of girls waiting to be served at the breakfast cart. Pacifica takes a navy blue food tray and joins the line, trying not to tap her foot too obviously.
“Hey,” the girl in front says, turning with a smile. She’s one of the campers who attempted an introduction yesterday. Jane, or June, or something. Her hair is cut into a bob and she’s wearing a little rope necklace with a seashell pendant. “I’m Jude, if you'd forgotten. Pacifica, right? Did you sleep well?”
Close enough on the name. “I slept fine,” Pacifica replies, shortly, eyes scanning for a head of curly brown hair. She finds it on one of the far tables. Then she remembers that she’s trying to be nicer to people, and sighs. “How about you? First time at camp?”
“Oh yeah, I always sleep well. This is my second year. My parents wanted to send me to a youth ministry place, but I talked them out of it, thank god. So boring. I mean, I know you weren’t here last time, so -”
“Trying something different.” This girl really doesn’t need to know the details of the Northwest family drama. Pacifica smiles, the humble pageant one her mom taught her.
They reach the front of the line, and Pacifica reaches for an apple, a slice of toast, a glass of orange juice, a muffin, until a little voice scolds her and the muffin goes back. Jude piles a bowl with cereal. It teeters. “Do you wanna come sit with me?” Jude asks, just shy of eager. “I hang out with Gwyn and Mackenzie, they’re cool. I’m sure they’d be okay with it.”
“I have someone I want to see, but maybe another time, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Alright.” The other girl deflates.
Pacifica hotfoots it away from Jude, in the direction of Mabel. She’s not eating, just twirling a curl of hair around her index finger over and over again, staring at one of the blueberry muffins that Pacifica had decided against just moments before. Nobody is sitting around her; the sleepy chatter of the other girls is muted in that private bubble.
“Morning,” Pacifica says breezily, standing on the other side of the table. Mabel closes her eyes.
“... Morning.”
“Mind if I sit here?”
“Can’t really stop you.”
She sets her tray down with a clatter, juice almost sloshing out of the cup. The benches are cold and firm. “For the record,” Pacifica starts, taking a bite of her toast, “I’m not trying to bully you, okay? If I were, I would do a much better job of it.” Not the thing to say. Mabel opens her eyes and scowls. Pacifica groans, internally. “Oh my god. Ignore me. Ugh. I’m just trying to be, like, friendly.”
“Suuure.” Mabel pinches a fingerful of muffin and eats it. “Whatever you say, Pacifica.”
“It’s not like I know anyone else here, do you?”
“No.”
“Right. So we might as well hang out.”
Mabel actually laughs at that, just a little bit. “Might as well,” she echoes, taking another pinch of muffin. “What are we supposed to be doing today?”
“Uhhhh. Zumba, or something? Some crappy aerobics.”
“Zumba’s fun. You’ll like it.”
With the room filling up, a couple of girls move to sit beside them, breaking up the conversation in order to introduce themselves. They have matching bracelets and flip their hair every few sentences. The topic moves on to hobbies. Both of them smile and giggle when Pacifica talks about skiing practice, and they giggle more privately when Mabel says that she likes to knit.
“Wow. Coool,” one drawls. Her bracelet flashes on her wrist. “I think my mom does that. Or my grandma, in the nursing home.”
“Actually, it is cool,” Pacifica snits. “Mabel’s sweaters are, like, professional quality. Better than those H&M jeans you have on, or those tacky earrings. They look cheap, just so you know.”
Her tone totally kills the mood but Mabel does look over in surprise as the pair stand up in a huff and walk away. “That was bitchy,” she murmurs, not critically. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. And her earrings were cheap, too. She can have fun getting an infection.”
While it’s not an ideal start, the show of unity does endear her to Mabel a bit, and they stick together for Zumba (which is fine, nothing to write home about). At dinner they sit with Jude and Gwyn and Mackenzie. The three of them mostly talk amongst themselves as Mabel pushes her food around and Pacifica seethes at being served watery tomato pasta.
-
After a few days of mediocre food and mostly enjoyable activities, Pacifica feels like she's settling in. Sleep is still hard work and the hideous orange of the camp uniforms is not getting more flattering, but when everyone else is in the same boat, that's manageable. For the most part Mabel tolerates being talked at and socializes a little. She's almost a whole other person to the one Pacifica met the year before. Sullen. Antisocial. Distant. Every now and then a ray of her old self will poke through the clouds and she'll laugh or get carried away with a game. For the most part, though, Mabel keeps to herself.
This changes one night. Pacifica is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling again, when she suddenly realizes that there's a sniffling sound alongside the usual snores. She peers over the side of her bunk. The faint light of the moon through the blinds renders Mabel just visible, and obviously upset.
“Hey. Psst. Mabel. Mabel.”
Reddened eyes blink upwards. “You're crying,” Pacifica whispers, carefully neutral. As though she were talking about the weather.
“Sorry,” Mabel replies, throatily.
Pacifica doesn't really know what to do in this situation. She's never seen a friend cry - or someone she cares about, anyway - and if a person is upset in her vicinity then historically it has been her fault. So what do you do? It's too quiet in here, the light too low. Trying to be discreet, she descends the ladder and crouches down. Offers her hand. “Come on.” After a moment, Mabel reaches back. Her palm is warm and soft and a little wet from her tears.
For a lack of options, Pacifica leads them into the toilet block just outside. It carries the distinct reek of urine and bleach, and whoever was assigned to clean did not do a thorough job, but it's private. She parks Mabel in the cleanest toilet stall and pulls hand towels from the dispenser, shuddering at the texture. Northwest manor with its en-suite washrooms feels a long way away.
“Here. Wipe your face. You'll get snotty.” God, Pacifica is not good at the whole comfort thing. It seems to work, though, as Mabel sniffles loudly and blows her nose, cleaning the worst of the mess. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pacifica asks. She's expecting a no, but at least she's making an attempt.
Mabel laughs. Weird. “Why are you being nice to me?” She sounds confused, almost bitter. Pacifica does her level best not to let irritation show on her face, probably fails, and sits cross-legged on the floor, even though it's disgusting.
“I'm trying to be your friend,” she says, tone just shy of patronizing. “Like, you get that, right?”
“Yeah, but… why?” Mabel blows her nose again. Two lollipop-charm earrings wiggle at the motion. “Surely the other girls here are more your type.”
“I didn't like the person my parents were turning me into.” The words come out robotic. “Okay? You're real, Mabel. I want to be your friend. Fuck those other girls, they just ask me about my dad's money anyway.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“So do you wanna talk about it?”
Redness rises back into Mabel's face. “It's… I just miss my brother. Real bad.”
To be honest, Pacifica can't even begin to imagine what that's like. She's never cared about anyone that much, family or friend, and she's an only child, so the concept of a twin is on a whole other planet of experience. Having someone so similar to you, a companion from birth - and to have that person die suddenly - it's about as bad as anything that Pacifica can picture. “I figured that was it,” she says, watching as Mabel rubs fresh tears away. “I'm sorry, by the way. He was annoying, but he was okay, I guess.” For a boy.
With a roll of her eyes, Mabel snorts. “It has been such a shit year.”
That makes both of them. “No kidding.” At length, Pacifica begins to fiddle with her hair, wondering how to approach her next question. “Um. Don’t feel obliged to answer or anything, but do you know what it was?”
“Huh?”
Oh, god. “That, like. Ugh.” This was a mistake. “That killed him? Sorry.”
Mabel goggles at her, tissues forgotten. “What do you mean?”
Talking around things isn't getting them anywhere, so Pacifica tries a different approach. “Your brother wasn't suicidal,” she says, picking her words carefully. “And nobody climbs up that water tower by accident. I know that the people back home call it that, but it's only because they don't know what else to say.” And it's true. The papers had to print something, but it's no big secret amidst the townsfolk of Gravity Falls that something killed Dipper Pines, and it wasn't himself. It's not an accident when you've been pushed.
Her asshole of a father had chalked it up to ‘bad breeding, and weakness of mind’, which should have been the precipitating factor in Pacifica's mutiny. She's ashamed that it wasn't.
To Pacifica's surprise, Mabel looks her in the eyes for the first time. They're still red, but clear, hopeful. “You're right. He was being possessed.”
That tracks. Pacifica nods.
“You believe me,” Mabel says, slowly.
“Well, duh. Of course I believe you. I've seen weirder shit in Gravity Falls.”
Mabel runs her fingers through her hair, almost smiling. “Have you ever met a dream demon?”
“Uh. No.”
“That's what it was.”
“Sounds freaky.”
“Yeah. Some awful triangle guy called Bill Cipher. He wanted to destroy the journal Dipper had, I don't really know why. It was this whole fight. Soos took me to the hospital to get me checked over, and while I was there, he -”
Mabel chokes up.
“I know the rest,” Pacifica soothes. She thinks she remembers that journal, the one that Dipper carried around everywhere. It didn't look that impressive.
“I just don’t understand,” Mabel sobs, clutching her face. “Why, why he - he had what he wanted, why did he have to t-, to take my brother away?”
“... if I had to guess, it’s probably because he thought it was funny.” Sounding alien even to herself, Pacifica looks at the ground, grits her teeth. Suzie, at school, the girl on scholarship with the acne problem and the stuffed rabbit that she pretends isn’t in her dormitory. Lucky for her, Pacifica is a day girl, not a boarder, but the others tell her all about the rabbit and how Suzie whispers to it late at night, when she thinks the others are asleep. In her mind’s eye, Pacifica holds the rabbit over the edge of the lake by thumb and forefinger. Suzie’s face shines with tears. And it is so, so funny.
“I know what bullies are like,” she continues, dully, “and it doesn’t exactly take much, does it?”
Mercifully, Mabel doesn’t reply to that.
They sit in the quiet of the toilet stall for a few minutes. Mabel slowly eases her crying. She’s blotchy-faced, and her eyes are still dull, but her expression is calm. “Thanks. For listening.”
“It’s okay.”
“I can’t talk to people about this, y’know? The last time I mentioned Bill to someone they almost put me in hospital.” Mabel smiles, crooked. “That might have been because I was screaming at them, but still.”
“Um. Yeah, that’ll do it. People from outside the Falls don’t, y'know, understand what it’s like.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Sounds kinda… lonely.”
“It is. Super lonely. I kinda got kicked out of school. I mean, that’s not how they put it, I’m ‘taking a break for my health’, but yeah.”
“What do you do instead? Do your parents teach you, or what?”
Mabel scratches her head. “I have online classes. It’s fine, I guess. My mom and dad aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now, so it’s super awkward in the house. They’re getting divorced but the paperwork is taking foreverrrr.” She giggles. “I should probably be upset about that, but whatever, you know?”
“I wish my parents would get divorced,” Pacifica deadpans. “They hate each other.”
“Right? And they pretend not to but it’s so obvious.”
“For mine it's the money. My mom knows where her bread is buttered, and my stupid asshole dad is too self-involved to care.”
Mabel giggles again. “Dang. I like the new Pacifica. She’s cool.”
“Well,” Pacifica blusters, suddenly embarrassed, “yeah. I was always cool, I'll have you know, but now I’m like, new and improved. Or whatever.”
“You’re honest. It’s refreshing.” Wrinkling her nose, Mabel deposits her wad of towels into the sanitary bin. “People say so much stupid shit about Dipper, the kind of person he was, but nobody ever says what they mean. And it’s totally okay that I’m grieving, but not really, because shouldn’t I be getting over it by now? At least a bit? And they have no idea what it’s like. I mean, you don’t either, but at least you believe me.”
There are other reasons why Pacifica buys into the story, but now isn’t really the time to share them. She stands from the toilet floor, trying her level best not to touch anything too much, and offers her hand again. “Will you be alright now?”
Mabel nods, takes her hand, and stands. “I think so. Yeah.”
“I really do mean it. I want to be friends.”
“Heh. I believe you, Pacifica. I think you’ve proven yourself.”
Then, to Pacifica’s surprise, she’s being hugged. Whoa. That’s quite nice. “You can talk to me about your brother if you want,” she says, trying not to be awkward about the contact. “Just don’t expect me to wear any friendship bracelets or whatever. Not my style.”
“Got it,” Mabel laughs.
After that, Pacifica still doesn't sleep, but she doesn't mind so much. She fiddles with her studs and listens to Mabel breathe beneath her, whistling a bit through her braces. She thinks of Suzie's rabbit, dripping from a clothes peg in the matron’s office, green with algae and never to be white again.
-
It's not magic. Mabel doesn't turn into her old self on a dime, but she waits for Pacifica in the mornings and they sit in companionable quiet at mealtimes. They partner up for canoeing and so, when Mabel falls in, Pacifica does too. She screams bloody murder, until she sees Mabel laughing.
“You did that on purpose! You bitch!”
“I did not!”
Pacifica puts all of her strength into splashing Mabel right in the face. She squeals and splashes back, grin wicked, promising a good fight until a shadow passes over them both.
“Girls.” Counselor Kay purses her lips, looming over them from the lakeside. She might be smiling but with the shade of her cap it's hard to tell. “Can we sort out our boat, please? I'm glad you're having fun, but this is not a swimming class.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Pacifica readjusts her lifejacket. It takes both of them to turn the boat back over, sluicing brown water everywhere. Getting back in is hard work, and Pacifica grimaces at the sensation of silt clinging to her shorts. Thank god she brought her crappier clothing. If it were the Balenciaga pair then she'd freak.
It's hard not to notice Counselor Kay watching over them for the remainder of the hour. She's one of the oldest members of staff, which puts her at about 30 rather than 21, and never shows her face without her hair pulled into a perfect topknot, loose or pulled through the back of her Portland Timbers cap. She wears a series of little silver rings at the upper curve of her ear, hinting at a personality where thus far there has been supreme efficiency in keeping with her well-maintained figure. To be honest, Pacifica finds her kind of perplexing.
She waits until they're out of the boats, smoothing out clothing that's gone stiff from drying in the sun, to collar Pacifica. “Mind if I borrow you for a moment?” Kay asks. “Everyone else - take half an hour’s break, meet outside Chestnut at 3:30 sharp, got it?” She turns back and smiles. “C’mon. Sit by the water with me a sec. You're not in trouble, don't worry.”
“Um… yeah. Okay.” Pacifica tries to find the least dirty spot but it's a losing battle. The lake is surrounded by a beachy edge of dirt, loose and dry, sticking to her hands and the sun-screened back of her legs. “So. What is this, like, about?”
“You haven't been to camp before, have you, Pacifica?”
“I have actually. Only for a couple weeks, though.”
“Alright, so, you haven't been to this camp,” Counselor Kay amends. “Twin Lakes has a really important system that you probably won't have experienced before. We like to assign a counselor to every camper as a way to touch base and make sure things are going okay. It's not serious, just casual chats like this, in case anything is up or to see if there's any conflict going on behind the scenes.”
“Right. I really don't need… that.” There's nothing Pacifica wants to do less than to talk to some random adult about her feelings.
“Well unfortunately for you, Miss Northwest, it is in fact mandatory.”
“Great.”
“And you have the honour of having me as your personal counselor. At least pretend to be happy about it?”
In spite of herself, Pacifica snorts. “Yayyyy.”
“That's the spirit. I wanted to say, it’s great to see you getting on so well with Mabel.”
“Yeah, well. We already knew each other, kind of.”
“Right, right. From Gravity Falls?” Kay asks, carefully. “Did you know her brother?”
Ah. That's what this is about. “I did. Yeah.”
“Okay. Good to be aware. We don't expect you to handle that by yourself, obviously, but I think it's a real help to have someone around who understands a bit. And if you need to talk about it yourself then just let me know, yeah?”
Pacifica doesn't really know what to say. Adults don’t talk to her like this. Frankly, they generally don't give a damn what she thinks or feels so long as she looks the part and says what she's supposed to. And that's fine. She kinda likes it that way. In lieu of response Pacifica picks up a pebble and throws it into the water, where it ripples outwards. Kay continues to not speak, watching her face curiously. “Fine,” Pacifica spits out, eventually. “Whatever.”
Kay laughs, just a little. “Not a much of a talker, huh?”
“No.”
“I hadn’t heard of the Northwests, but I’ve gathered that they’re pretty rich?”
“Very rich,” Pacifica corrects, and winces at the thread of disdain in her voice, the one that asks who the hell are you to even speak to me? She attempts to dial it back. “I mean, uh, yeah, my family has, like, a lot of money.”
“But you’re here,” Kay says, gently. “At a budget sleepaway camp?”
Alright. That’s enough. Pacifica stands up and brushes off her shorts and her ugly, ugly shirt, and she glares. “Look. Don’t we have somewhere to be? I’m not here to play twenty questions with you and I’m not interested in being therapized.”
Kay throws her hands up defensively and shrugs, ponytail swinging with the action. “Okay, sorry. You’re right. Go take a breather, you’ve got -” she checks her watch, which is a horrible pink rubbery thing, probably waterproof. “- fifteen minutes, bit more. We’ll try again another time. That’s a promise, by the way.”
“Sure thing.” Pacifica stalks off, trying not to fume too obviously. It’s one thing Mabel asking questions but Mabel is her friend, and has at least met her parents. Some overly sporty camp counselor asking prying questions about her life is just not it. She’s here to pass the time over the summer and to see the look on her dad’s face when they come to pick her up and she’s just fine, easy breezy, and has survived the month without a care in the world. Because he doesn't own her. Then Pacifica takes a long breath. Keep it together, Paz. The lady is just doing her stupid job.
She catches up to Mabel, who’s lounging around outside the main hall with some knitting. It seems way too hot to be handling all that wool, but Mabel doesn’t appear to care, working up something large and purple on needles that flash in the sun.
“What was that about?” she asks, not looking up from her project.
“Just some nonsense. Kay’s my ‘personal counselor’, I guess.”
“Ohh. Mina’s mine.”
“Seems like a total waste of time to me.”
“Eh.” Mabel shrugs a shoulder. She finally looks up, shading the sun from her face with her palm. “I’d rather deal with them than my therapist back home. It could be waaaay worse, trust me.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. What are you making?”
“Ah, it’s nothing special. Time filler. D’you wanna get a popsicle before they drag us off again? There's a bunch in the hall.”
Pacifica pulls a face but she kinda does want one, actually. They grab a couple of cheap popsicles from a cooler that chunters and wheezes with the effort of staying alive. Discreetly, Pacifica watches how Mabel bites off the top of the plastic wrapper and spits it out, pushing up the neon pink ice inside. Tentatively she does the same, wincing at the texture of the plastic scraping against her teeth and how the cold burns her hands, biting at her fingers. The popsicle tastes of bizarre artificial flavouring and tooth-rotting sugar. In the blazing sun of early July, it's delicious