Having a busted lip is most definitely unattractive, but Pacifica can say with absolute certainty that it is satisfying to have one if you got it by helping to fight off a horde of supernatural creatures.
And, because luck is on her side (besides, you know, the number of semi-grievous injuries, sore joints, and the fact that she lost her house key somewhere in the woods), Dipper doesnât look half-bad, either. Granted, heâs all scuffed up and messy-haired and his nose is bleeding, but, you know. The adrenaline-charged look suits him. Good for his complexion, and stuff.Â
Which are all things she should not, under any circumstances, be noticing. Not when sheâs fourteen years old and sheâs got the whole town to choose from. The exhilarated, possibly delirious smile of one half of the notorious Nerd Twins is the opposite of a priority.Â
âHey,â Dipper says, punching her arm lightly and repeatedly, exactly the way Mabel does when she thinks sheâs got a lead on who Pacificaâs crushing on (âRobbie? Thompson? Gasp! Toby Determined?!â). And jeez, does she ever wish Mabel was hereâcolds arenât even remotely close to an acceptable excuse for bailing on forest patrol. âHey, hey. Nice job saving my life back there.âÂ
Pacificaâs mouth stops working as it often does when heâs beaming at her like that, and all that comes out is a haughty huff.Â
âYou were likeâboosh!â Dipper gesticulates wildly. âAnd thenâkazow! And then like, whoa!â His eyes are practically glimmering. âYouâre amazing.âÂ
âUgh, gross,â Pacifica sneers, because itâs the only thing she knows how to do when getting roughed up by the dark and creepy things slithering through the woods is making her feel invincible, like she can take on the whole world and everything in it, her parents and that ringing bell and the sharp stares of her friends. âDonât rub any of that loser off on me, Pines. Get a grip. I only did it becauseââ She fishes around for a reason. âBecause if you die, Mabel will cry at me for like a million years, which I so donât have the time for.âÂ
âAw, come on,â Dipper eggs her onâamicably, of course. He nudges his shoulder into hers as they traipse along, skinned knees and prickling feet, heels crunching into the dirt path back to the Mystery Shack. âYou had fuuuuuun.â
âUm, in your weirdo X-File dreams, Pines,â Pacifica says, caustic. âWalk two steps behind me; I donât want any potential witnesses getting the wrong idea here.âÂ
âThe idea that weâre friends?â Dipper asks slyly.Â
And Pacifica wouldnât have a problem admitting such a thing, normallyâexcept that she just saw him come this close to, you know, doing that thing she always has to pretend she has no grasp of when her parents bring it up at the dinner table like she isnât even there; that thing that would make him just as pale and incandescent as the wrathful ghost he had saved her from. She has to save face, here. She has to quell that rampant, painful galloping of her heartâthe one that she wishes were smaller.Â
âAs if,â she mutters, even though it sours her throat.Â
Dipper walks the rest of the way in silence, two step behind her, just like sheâd asked but hadnât actually wanted.Â









