Pining Away

by Disney Book Group

  Dipper gasped in horror. Robbie was not in the plan! He could only imagine what would happen next, and a jealous fantasy flashed in his mind:

  Wendy and Robbie were on the dance floor, dancing to a slow song.

  “Robbie, you’re a stupid, arrogant fraud, but kiss me anyway because you can play guitar!” Wendy said. “Oh, wait, I forgot something!”

  Wendy walked across the dance floor and punched Dipper right in the gut.

  She called out to Robbie, “Let’s get married tonight!”

  Dipper’s cell phone roused him from his fantasy. It was Tyrone.

  “Hey, buddy, it’s me—you,” he said. “I just had the same jealousy fantasy.”

  “We gotta get rid of Robbie if I ever want to dance with Wendy,” Dipper said.

  “Hey, Dipper! We’re gonna go sit on the couch,” said Wendy. “Meet us when you’re done.” She and Robbie walked off the dance floor.

  Dipper panicked. “Oh no! They’re sitting on the couch! We gotta think of something quick!” he wailed into his phone. Then he noticed Robbie’s bicycle. “I got an idea.”

  “I got the same one,” said Tyrone, looking through the window. “But we’re gonna need some help.”

  A couple of minutes later, they were both in the storage room, and a second clone popped out of the copier.

  “And that’s where you come in, Number Three,” Dipper said after he explained the plan to the new clone.

  “But what if Robbie catches me?” asked Number Three. “I’ll be all alone.”

  “Okay, one more. One more clone,” Dipper said. “This is a four-Dipper plan.” He hopped up on the copier again and pressed the button. A puff of black smoke burst from the machine, and it made a grinding noise.

  “Uh-oh! Paper jam,” said Tyrone, going to the feeder. The paper coming out had Dipper’s image on it, but it was all crinkled. Tyrone laid it on the floor and the image came to life. It looked like a crunched-up version of Dipper.

  “Nyahh aaah eeek pfft!” Paper Jam Dipper screeched, jumping into Tyrone’s arms.

  “You’re not going to make me partner up with him, are you?” Number Three asked Tyrone.

  “Shhh. Don’t be rude,” Tyrone whispered as Paper Jam Dipper screeched and tugged on his lower lip like a poorly behaved monkey.

  Dipper sighed. “Okay. Just one more clone.”

  Back on the dance floor, Mabel and Pacifica were battling it out to see who could party the hardy-iest. Pacifica stood in the spotlight, singing a pop song. The crowd clapped as she finished on a glass-shattering high note.

  “I used to sing like that,” Grenda said, “before my voice changed.”

  “Pacifica pulls ahead,” Soos announced.

  Pacifica handed Mabel the microphone. “Try and top that,” she said. “Oh, and, Grenda, by the way, you sound like a professional wrestler.”

  Pacifica walked away, laughing, as Grenda balled her hands into fists. “I wanna put her in a headlock and make her feel pain!” she growled.

  “It’s not over till it’s over, sisters,” Mabel promised Candy and Grenda. “Watch this. Soos, get me the eighties-est, crowd-pleasing-est, rock-balladie-est song you got!”

  Soos pressed some buttons, and the sounds of a 1980s rock ballad flowed from the speakers. Mabel took to the stage and started to sing.

  “Don’t start unbelieving! Never don’t not feel your feelings!”

  The crowd went crazy for the song, and Mabel ended with a body flip—and landed on her face.

  “That was for you guys!” she yelled, and everyone whooped and cheered.

  Just then, Dipper ran up and whispered something in Soos’s ear. Soos nodded and spoke into the microphone.

  “Dudes, would the owner of a silver-and-red dirt bike please report outside? It is being stolen right now.”

  “Wait, what?” Robbie asked, and he looked out the window to see the backs of two guys who were riding off with his bike.

  Little did he know they were two Dipper clones!

  “Hey, come back here!” Robbie yelled, running outside.

  “Oh, tough break,” Dipper told Wendy, laughing nervously. “I wonder who those guys are that aren’t me because I’m right here.”

  “Now we’re gonna bring it down for a minute.” Soos pressed some more buttons. “Ladies, dudes, now is the time.”

  A slow dance groove filled the room.

  “Oh, snap! Love this song!” Wendy told Dipper.

  Mabel ran up to her brother. “Hey, goofus, now’s your chance to ask Wendy to dance! Come on! Go!” she whispered, giving him a push.

  Dipper pulled his checklist from his pocket and studied it. Then he looked at Wendy, who was still sitting on the couch, swaying to the music. All he had to do was speak up and ask her.

  “I, uh,” he stammered, suddenly feeling sweaty. “I’ll be right back.”

  He rushed to his room, where he found Tyrone waiting for him.

  “Oh, I agree. You can’t just go and dance with her!” Tyrone said.

  “The dance floor is a minefield. A minefield, Tyrone!” Dipper wailed.

  “What if there’s a glitch in the sound system?” Tyrone asked.

  “Stan might get in the way,” Dipper said.

  “Robbie might come back,” added Tyrone.

  “There’s too many variables,” he said, looking his clone in the eye. They were both thinking the same thing.

  “We need help!”

  and whooshed and glowed with green light as Dipper made five more copies of himself! All eleven Dippers headed up to Dipper’s room and immediately got to work on a new Wendy plan. (Well, maybe not all ten clones contributed to the plan. Paper Jam Dipper mostly drooled and made babbling noises.) They talked excitedly and wrote up new checklists of steps for Dipper to take.

  “All right, Dippers! Gather ’round!” the real Dipper finally yelled, and nine of his clones lined up neatly in front of him. “Now’s the time! You all clear on what to do?”

  They all nodded and then headed back downstairs to set their plan into action.

  First, Number Ten set out to distract Soos with a laser light.

  “Hey, Soos, look! A glowing dot!” Number Ten cried, pointing to the wall behind Soos. Then he shone a green laser dot on the wall and moved it up and down.

  “Oh man, I’m so glad I turned my head,” Soos said. “That dot does not disappoint.” He tried to catch the moving green light in his hands as if it were a firefly.

  While Soos’s back was turned, Number Ten slipped a special disc labeled WENDY MIX into the CD player. Number Five put a colored cell over the light shining onto the dance floor, casting a romantic pink glow everywhere. Number Seven pulled down the shades on the window. And Number Eight dangled a dollar in front of Stan on a fishing pole.

  “Right, like I’m gonna fall for that,” Stan said—and then he lunged at it. “Ahh! Give me that money!” he yelled, chasing it outside.

  A bell rang in Dipper’s room, signaling that the coast was clear.

  “There’s your cue,” said Tyrone. “It’s the perfect moment to ask Wendy to dance. Good luck, me!”

  “I don’t need luck. I have a plan!” Dipper said confidently, patting the folded checklist in his pocket. He ran downstairs, into the hallway…and then screamed! Wendy was standing in the hall—not down on the dance floor like she was supposed to be. Not like in the plan.

  “Oh, hey, man. What’s up?” Wendy said.

  “Wh—what are you doing here?” Dipper asked her. “I mean, wouldn’t you rather be out on the dance floor? Uh, in like exactly forty-two seconds?”

  “I’m just waiting in line for the bathroom,” Wendy said.

  Dipper quickly turned his back to her and looked at his checklist. “Um, okay. Small talk, small talk,” he muttered to himsel
f, starting to sweat.

  “So, hey, let’s say everyone at this party gets stuck on a desert island. Who do you think the leader would be?” Wendy asked him.

  It was a great question, and Dipper knew it. But he was too nervous to answer it.

  “I, uh…”

  “I think I’d go with this lunatic,” Wendy said, pointing down to the dance floor where a short guy was doing intense karate moves to the music.

  Dipper laughed and hid his checklist. “I’d probably go for Stretch over there.” He pointed to a really tall, really skinny guy. “Uh, because tall people can reach coconuts?”

  Wendy laughed. “Speaking of tall, you wanna see something?” She took out her wallet and showed him a photo of three boys. She covered the last person in the photo with her finger. “Those are my three brothers, and I’m…boop!” She lifted up her finger to reveal a super-tall skinny girl with pigtails and braces who towered over the boys. It was Wendy!

  “Ha! You were a freak!” Dipper blurted out, and then quickly clapped his hand over his mouth. But Wendy wasn’t insulted.

  “Yup,” she said, nodding.

  “You know, kids used to make fun of my birthmark before I started hiding it all the time,” Dipper said.

  “Birthmark?” Wendy asked him.

  “Uh, no, it’s nothing,” Dipper said nervously. “Why did I say that?” he muttered to himself.

  “No way, dude!” Wendy said, her eyes gleaming. “Now you have to show me. Show me! Show me!”

  Taking a deep breath, Dipper took off his hat and lifted the hair from his forehead. The birthmark looked exactly like…

  “The Big Dipper!” Wendy cried out, amazed at the pattern of dots and lines that looked just like the constellation of stars in the sky. “That’s how you got your nickname. I thought your parents just hated you or something.” She smiled. “Hey, I guess we’re both freaks!”

  She handed Dipper a cup of soda, and they clinked cups. Then the bathroom door opened and Pacifica stomped out.

  “Wait here?” Wendy asked Dipper.

  “Of course!” Dipper replied as Wendy ducked inside.

  Then Dipper heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Tyrone leading most of the clones into the hall.

  “Hey! What are you doing up here?” Tyrone asked. “Number Ten has been distracting Soos for fifteen minutes. He’s gonna get tired of that dot eventually.”

  “Never!” Soos yelled out from his DJ stand.

  “You won’t believe it, guys!” Dipper said excitedly. “I bumped into Wendy accidentally and things are actually going great.”

  “That’s nice,” Tyrone said, “but not the plan! Do we have to remind you?”

  The clones started reading from their many checklists all at once.

  “Stick to the plan!”

  “Don’t take any risks!”

  “Oh man, you guys sound crazy!” Dipper realized. “Look, maybe we don’t need the plan anymore, you know? Maybe I could just go talk to her like a normal person?”

  Number Nine gasped.

  “What?” asked Number Eight.

  “You bite your tongue!” yelled Number Seven.

  “If you’re not gonna stick to the plan, maybe you shouldn’t be the Dipper to dance with Wendy,” said Number Five.

  The other clones nodded. “Five. Number Five’s on the ball.”

  “Guys, come on!” Dipper said. “We said we weren’t gonna turn on each other.”

  “I think we all knew we were lying,” Tyrone said, a dark expression crossing his face.

  All of the clones converged on Dipper, pinning him down and grabbing him by the legs. Then they dragged him down the hallway.

  “Aaaaaaaaah!” Dipper screamed.

  hard as he could against the door to the supply closet. But the clones had locked him in, and he couldn’t get the door to budge.

  “No, wait!” he yelled, panicked. “I can’t breathe in here.”

  “Yeah, you can!” Tyrone said through the door. “Plus, there’s snacks and a coloring book in there for you.”

  Dipper grunted, frustrated, and then picked up a snack pack of cheese and crackers. Those other Dippers sure knew him well.

  Out in the hall, Tyrone addressed the other clones. “Okay, so now that original Dipper, or ‘Dipper Classic,’ is no longer fit for it, I nominate myself to dance with Wendy instead. I’ve been around the longest, so it should be me, right? I mean, logically. Logically, guys.”

  “Fair point, fair point,” said Number Ten. “Counterpoint: maybe I should get to dance with Wendy because I’ve been around her the least.”

  “That makes, like, zero sense,” said Number Five.

  Number Ten turned to him, angry. “You make zero sense!” he yelled, shoving him.

  Number Five shoved him back. “Watch it!”

  “Don’t shove, people!” said Number Six.

  “Blaaarf!” added Paper Jam Dipper.

  Tyrone strolled up to him, holding a snack pack. “Hey, you want some cheese and crackers, buddy?”

  “Aiiiieeeek!” replied the crumpled-up clone.

  Tyrone tried to fit a cracker into Paper Jam Dipper’s mouth and it fell to the floor.

  “Yikes.” Suddenly, something dawned on Tyrone. “Hey, guys, what would you do if you were trapped in a closet?”

  “Break out!” the other clones answered, and then they all turned at once. The closet door was open. Dipper had escaped!

  Dipper ran downstairs as fast as he could. He reached the hall overlooking the dance floor.

  “Wen—!” he cried out, but Tyrone clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him away from the railing.

  “Come on, man, give it up,” Tyrone said. “You’re overpowered.”

  “Hold on, guys,” Dipper said. “Think about it! We’re exact equals, mentally and physically. If we start fighting, it’ll just go on for infinity.”

  Tyrone nodded. “It’s true when you think about it.”

  The clones began to chatter. What Dipper said made sense.

  “Maybe we should just give up,” said Number Nine.

  Then Dipper punched Tyrone in the jaw.

  “Clone fight!” yelled Number Nine.

  The clones turned on each other, punching and kicking.

  Number Five slapped Dipper’s face again and again. “Hey, quit hitting myself! Quit hitting myself!” taunted Number Five. Then Number Six came flying out of nowhere and tackled him. Clones fought left and right, slapping each other in the stomachs and twisting each other’s arms.

  Dipper took advantage of the chaos and slowly walked off. Number Ten saw him.

  “Hey, Classic Dipper’s getting away!” he yelled.

  But Dipper had a plan. He had taped a “7” to the front of his hat.

  “No, friends, it’s me. Number Seven,” he said, pointing to the hat.

  “That’s not me, guys. That’s not me!” said Number Seven, and just then, the “7” fell off of Dipper’s hat.

  “Get him!” shouted Number Nine.

  “Stay back! Stay back!” Dipper said warningly. He pulled the only weapon he had out of his pocket—a party popper.

  Poof! He pulled the tab and confetti streamed from the popper. Which was pretty lame—except that the smoke from the popper wafted up to the fire sprinklers on the ceiling. Water rained down on eight of the clones, melting them.

  “Huh. How about that,” Dipper muttered as the sprinkler shut off. Then he heard a familiar voice behind him, and turned.

  Tyrone pointed at him accusingly. “You!”

  “Uh-oh,” Dipper said.

  dance floor, the contest to see who could party the hardy-iest was in full swing. Mabel did the Worm, while the crowd that had gathered around her cheered and clapped.
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  “One more song, dudes,” Soos announced. “And then it’s time for the bestowing of the party crown. It’s gonna be the…”

  He pressed a button, and the sound of a bomb exploding reverberated. Soos smiled. “Nailed it!”

  Mabel walked up to Pacifica. “Pacifica, I just want to say that whoever wins, it’s been a super-fun party.” She held out her hand.

  Pacifica did not shake her hand. “Aw, it thinks it’s gonna win,” she said meanly. Then she cupped her hand around her ear. “Hey, did you hear that? People clapping for the weird girl? Yeah, me neither.”

  She walked away, but Mabel didn’t lose her smile. She was having fun—and Pacifica wasn’t going to ruin it!

  Upstairs, Tyrone had Dipper in a headlock.

  “Say it! Say I can dance with Wendy!” said Tyrone.

  “Never!” Dipper grunted, breaking free and putting the headlock on Tyrone instead.

  But both boys froze when they heard Wendy’s laugh floating up from the dance floor.

  “Wendy?” they asked at once, and both moved to the railing to investigate.

  Robbie had returned! He and Wendy were tucked in a corner, talking and laughing. Dipper and Tyrone sighed.

  “We blew it, man!” they said together. Then they sank to the floor in defeat.

  “I don’t know, do you wanna go and grab a couple of sodas or something?” Tyrone asked.

  As the two boys headed downstairs, Soos was riling up the crowd on the dance floor. He stood on the stage, flanked by Mabel and Pacifica.

  “Let the party-crown voting commence!” he announced.

  “Good luck, Mabel,” Pacifica said, peering around Soos’s belly. Then her eyes narrowed. She clearly didn’t mean it.

  “Applaud to vote for Mabel!” Soos yelled.

  Lots of people applauded, including Stan and Mabel’s new friends, Candy and Grenda.

  “Yeah, go, Mabel!” Grenda bellowed.

  “Let’s check the applause-o-meter,” Soos said, raising his right arm like it was the arm on a real applause-measuring machine. His arm stopped straight up in the air. “Pretty good!”