The Lemon Meringue Boy

Part 37

 I took a deep breath and hoisted the box onto my forearms. My fingers curled across the far bottom edge. I was hit with a strange surge of protectiveness as I looked down at the box. The half decomposed cardboard smelled like wet cement. It reminded me of the kid from Bills dream, his face close to mine. How he beamed at me, his lemon-meringue bangs almost brushing my birthmark.

I jolted back into reality. Why was I thinking about that now? It wasn't at all relevant. I had a mission, and that mission did not involve the insane hallucinations of an evil triangle. He must be in pain. I imagined him holding his head, trying to tame the onslaught of pressure.

STOP IT! I screamed silently. I needed to think about what I was doing! I marched up the stairs, holding the box, the extra weight shifting forward and back with each step I took. My mind took over.

Great. Focus on that. No need to be nervous. Focus on the shift of the passenger. The secret passenger. The evil passenger. No! Don't think about that. Think about Ford! How encouraging he was on the boat. Think about that! How he is such a great explorer. A great discoverer. In a few minutes he'd discover Bill and kill- No! Not that either! Ugh! When did the stairs get so long? Why is the elevator so slow? I want to get out! I want to get Bill his stupid drugs and... 

Bill's in pain. Think about that. You have no need to be nervous. You're just getting help. There's nothing wrong. You're doing the right thing.

I calmed myself. Deep down I knew that I was lying to myself. I did have a reason to be nervous. I wasn't doing the right thing. But it was a white lie. It helped me stay calm. It was better that way. 

Slowly my thoughts drifted farther, finding anything that made me calm, my subconscious floating me along. I thought about the falls and the rainbow mist over the foam. I thought about summer, rides on the Stan o' war and the warm sun. I thought about the trees and the birds.

Eventually, my subconscious found Bill. I was confused, but I welcomed it. It wasn't making me nervous, just calmer.

 I thought about his laugh, the way his eye scrunched up when he poked fun at me. I thought about blue fire and wandering eyes, about the darkness of the void and the whisper that tickled my ear. The terrible thoughts were calming, the confusion intermingling with joy in the depths of my subconscious.

"DIPPER! Kid! Are you okay? Are you drugged? What's in the box?" My eyes popped open to see Grunkle Stan waving his hand in front of my face, his expression curious but not particularly worried. "Finally! I thought you were sleep walking."

I looked around and saw that I was in the kitchen. I had been auto-piloting myself as I calmed my mind. The fantasies were quickly slipping from my memory as my adrenaline began to build. Thankfully I was still in a daze, leaving little energy for panic. I tried to walk past, attempting to play the "to tired to talk" card. Stan wasn't buying it.

"The box, kid. What's in it?" I stopped walking and turned around stiffly. I felt blood begin to rush to my face. Calm thoughts. Research equipment. You are carrying a boring box of dirty tools. That's all.

"Nothing. Just a load of researching tools. They got a little dirty, so I thought I might take them upstairs to wash." My heart was steady and my breath was even. I was okay.

"While you're here, could I ask you something?" 

Stan's question caught me off guard. Of all times to value my opinion he chose then? I didn't want to, obviously. I had a job to do, but I thought to myself; what would Dipper-with-a-box-of-tools do? Dipper-with-a-box-of-tools would be delighted that Stan was asking for his help. He would set down his unimportant box of tools and let Stan talk. Only Dipper-with-something-to-hide would say no. Dipper-with-something-to-hide would avoid the question and take his "box of tools" away without a word.

"Sure, Grunkle Stan! What is it?" I set the box on the counter behind Stan and made sure I stood opposite. That way Stan couldn't see the box if it moved or opened for some reason. Just in case. Good thing I did, because when he started talking, I had a feeling both me and my "something to hide" started to feel a little extra anxious.