The Lemon Meringue Boy

Part 9

 When we got to town square, I wasn't all that surprised to see that, though at first glance it may look good, there was still a lot of work to do. It was mostly repairs, like broken beams and electrical problems, but if you look close you may occasionally see something a little more out of the ordinary. 

For example, in my first few hours there I saw; a two headed bird spit acid on someone's pant leg, a squirrel roar like a lion, a tree tied into the shape of a Christmas bow, and a cloud raining confetti. 

It was strange. Well, of course it was. It was strange in the sense that, while I was in public high school as a token nerd, this place was still here. I saw so many remnants of last summer that it seemed as if the whole town was on pause until we got back, waiting with open arms. It's funny how I felt so attached to a place I spent only one summer in, but it felt like my only home. I suppose it follows the same type of rule, how chaotic or traumatic experiences bond people. I suppose me and this town sort of bonded.

 I looked through the crowd of people with gloves and trash bags and fox traps. My attention flicked over to the cosmetic repair group, where I saw someone I knew. This someone had thick, shiny blond hair and pink leather work boots. I made my way through the crowd to greet her. 

"Hey Pacifica!" she turned around and her face lit up. I got a better look at her. She was wearing her hair in a high ponytail and had a paint smudge on her nose, which I decided not to mention because she'd make a fuss over it. It was kind of adorable. She was wearing actual pants, which wasn't a common ordeal, even if they were still designer skinny jeans. I guess she was in her work clothes.

"Dipper!" she ran over and gave me a hug. "Your voice! It's...better! It was too loud to tell last night but wow!"

It seemed like a strange way of phrasing it, but I knew what she meant. I put my hand on my throat. My voice had lost its squeakiness over the school year. I still didn't sound macho or gruff (Or like I took some weird "voice over-professional" serum.), but it was deeper. A little more even, a little less pubescent.

"Thanks." I smiled and blushed. Pacifica smiled too. After a while I shook my head. We were off track.

 "While on the topic of work..." Pacifica shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "It's my first day on the job and I was wondering if you could give me any pointers. What's the most fun thing to do around here?"

"I have to say cosmetic repair. You'll have to find that group yourself."

"Isn't that the one you're in?"

"So it is!"

"Sign me up, then!" we both giggled at our little improv. Yeah, we were shamelessly flirting. It was our thing. We started doing it to piss off Mabel, but then we ended up doing it even when she wasn't around. I liked it, and I guess Pacifica did too.

 I grabbed myself a paintbrush and got to work. I had a great time. Pacifica kept painting things pink that weren't supposed to be. Every time she did I'd slap my paint brush against her wrist and splatter paint all over her. When she squealed and tried to wipe the paint of on my shirt I'd say, "But it's pink! Don't you like pink?" and she would pummel my shoulder with punches and we'd laugh and call a truce. Then we would do it all over again. By the end of the cleanup we were burnt out. I had an idea. 

"Hey, you know what you should do? You should come to the shack for lunch! I learned this morning that Grenda can really cook, and I think she likes it too. I bet she wouldn't mind cooking for one more."

"You know a better idea? You should come to my house for lunch. You haven't been there all year! Wait... last year you saw the Northwest Mansion... oh my gosh, Dipper! You haven't seen my new house at all!

"I'm guessing that settles it then?" She widened her eyes as if to say duh, of course! I snorted. We cleaned up our workplace, meaning I picked things up while Pacifica told me what to pick up, and headed to her car. It wasn't a jet black polished stretch limo anymore, but it was a vintage 1991 Toyota Century VG40. A little less expensive, and this time it didn't come with a chauffeur.

We hopped in and Pacifica's father gave me a nod of acknowledgement. I was surprised to see him behind the wheel, until I remembered what Pacifica had told me over the phone a few weeks ago. After they lost their chauffeur, Mr. Northwest had to take drivers Ed. I was surprised and asked if there were any driving schools nearby. Pacifica said no, and left me hanging a while before telling me that her father had to go to drivers Ed class at Gravity Falls High School... during the school year! It was hilarious to imagine the pretentious forty-something year old man sitting in a class with a bunch of sarcastic sixteen year olds.

During the drive, I learned for myself that he still wasn't all that good at driving yet. We ended up on the wrong side of the road at least twice and we ran about three red lights. 

When we got to Pacifica's house, I was pretty surprised. It was fancy, yes, but it was still a lot less than I imagined. First off, it was a ranch house. Somehow, their family was able to go from four stories to one without much of a problem. Second, they had absolutely no butlers. Apparently they had taken their whole "normal" lifestyle thing pretty far. Pacifica even said she helps around the house sometimes.

We hopped out of the car and Pacifica led me up the walk. She gave me a little tour of the rooms and furniture and the yard. The yard was my personal favorite. They had a good amount of land, and about half of it was full of bright, fragrant flowers and hummingbird feeders. 

The backyard even had a thin little stream running through. It was man-made, Pacifica said, but at night you could hear frogs serenading the neighborhood, and occasionally you'd see a flash of shimmering silver as you walked by, betraying the hiding place of some minnows that showed up over the spring. 

I asked Pacifica if she had ever tried to catch anything. She shot me a disgusted look that snapped me out of my whimsical mood. Northwests don't. Catch. Frogs. Go figure.