Mason Pines threw open the door to the Mystery Twins Magic Emporium with a bang and the faint tinkling of a bell. He paused to push his glasses up on his nose before running through the gift shop, towards a door marked Employees Only.
"Hey, where ya headed, Mason?"
Mason skidded to a stop at the voice, looking over his shoulder. The red-headed girl behind the checkout counter popped a cracker into her mouth as she waited for his answer.
"Oh, h-hey, Wendy," Mason said, approaching the counter. He didn't want to disturb her work, but a quick glance around showed him that business was slow. Or, well, non-existent. "I was just going to go find Ford."
Wendy jabbed a finger at the vending machine on her left. "He's down there somewhere."
"Oh." Mason's face fell. He wasn't allowed behind the vending machine.
"Why'd you need him?" Wendy asked.
Mason forgot his disappointment for a moment when he remembered what he had. "I found something outside! I think it has magical properties." He fished it out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. "Look!"
Wendy peered at it. "Woah, that's cool," she said, her tone a bit confused. "It's a sparkly blue rock."
Mason nodded. "I think it has residual fairy magic or something. That's why I wanted to show Ford." He stopped, looking at Wendy's face. She was frowning. "What?"
"Mason. . . ," she said, "I know you really want to be a part of what Ford does. But he's kinda a loner. I don't think he's going to really share his work."
Mason's face fell, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose. "You sure?"
"No," Wendy said, "but I wouldn't get your hopes up. Sorry, bud, but I think you're stuck here with the rest of us." She smiled. "That's not so bad, right?"
Mason returned the smile. "No," he replied. But inside, he was sighing. Wendy was right; Mason had been at the Mystery Twins Magic Emporium for a week, and Great Uncle Ford hadn't made much of an effort to spend time with him. Even though he'd been wanting to the moment he found out his uncle studied the supernatural. How exciting was that?
"Look alive, people!" a grizzled old voice shouted, preceding its owner. Stanley Pines, co-owner of the Emporium, walked into the gift shop, his slightly ragged suit looking more haggard than ever. "How. . . Can we. . . ."
He trailed off when he saw the gift shop was empty save Wendy and Mason. "Where are all the tourists?" he demanded.
Wendy shrugged. "Don't ask me, Mr. Pines, I didn't scare them away."
"Where's Soos?"
"Right here, Mr. Pines."
Mason, Wendy, and Stan all jumped. Soos, despite being the fattest man Mason had ever met, had a tendency to appear out of nowhere as if he'd been invisible. The gopher-like man was changing a lightbulb up on a stool in the far corner of the gift shop. Had he been there the whole time Mason had?
"Okay, so all my employees are here. Where are my customers?"
Mason frowned. "Grunkle Stan, I'm not one of your employees, am I?"
"Sure you are, kid," Stan said offhandedly. "You're under my roof, aren't you?"
"But—"
"He's just messing with you, Mason," Wendy said, eating another cracker. "You're a guest here."
"A guest who has to pay for his lodging," Stan protested. "I didn't agree to let you come up here and lay around all summer!"
Mason looked back and forth from Stan to Wendy. The latter was rolling her eyes and fishing around in her box of Chipackerz.
But Stan seemed to have forgotten him. "Soos, there was a spillage in the tour hall! Come clean it up!"
"Sure thing, Mr. Pines," Soos said in his round, forward voice. "What kind of spillage?"
"I'm not going to say," Stan grunted. Soos shrugged and followed his employer out of the gift shop.
Mason watched them go and turned back to Wendy. "He isn't really going to make me work in the Emporium, is he?"
Wendy raised her eyebrows. "This is Stan we're talking about, dude. If he decides you need to be spending your time gluing together fake taxidermy, that's what you gotta do."
Mason frowned. "What do you mean, fake taxidermy?"
"The attractions," Wendy replied. "What, you didn't think those were real, did you?"
He had, actually. "B-but, Ford and Stan have all sorts of supernatural adventures—"
"Sure we—they do, but tourists don't wanna see real magic stuff. Plus I think Stan has fun trying to come up with weirder things than he finds out in the forest. Anyway, if everything was real, we'd have some pretty big issues with the customers. Ask Ford about a certain experience with a Gremloblin sometime."
Mason's face fell. "I would if I ever saw him long enough to have a conversation," he muttered under his breath.
He didn't think Wendy could hear him, but she gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "Cheer up, man, I'm sure you'll get your chance to talk to Ford. And who knows, maybe when you do, you'll find out he really isn't the best person to talk to." She said this last part with a wink, but it just made Mason feel worse.
He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, there was a sound of machinery behind him.
"Mason, may I speak with you?"
Mason spun around to see the vending machine partway open, and Ford's grey head sticking out from behind it. The young teen didn't know what to say, so he just gaped at his great uncle, looking back and forth between him and Wendy.
"And maybe that chance will come sooner than you think," Wendy said quietly, half a grin on her face.
Ford didn't seem to hear her. "Mason?"
Mason turned back to him and blinked rapidly. "Um, yeah, of course."
There was an awkward moment of silence where Mason realized his legs were supposed to be moving.
"In here," Ford said.
Mason's mouth opened and shut again. Ever since he'd arrived at the Emporium, he'd been told never to try to go behind the vending machine. Behind the vending machine was for Ford only, and Stan on occasion. And now he was being invited in there!
"Okay."
It seemed a lame response compared to what he was thinking, but it was all his mouth could manage.
Even after that, it took a push from Wendy to set him forward in motion. "Good luck," she whispered from behind him.
As Mason headed across the gift shop to Ford—a journey that felt a lot longer than its actual five steps—all he could think was that he had done it again. His "deer in the headlights," as Wendy liked to call it. He couldn't help that his body froze whenever his mind hit a road bump. It just happened.
Ford pushed the vending machine door open when Mason reached him to let him through, and the boy moved awkwardly past, feeling his heartbeat speed up and his body start sweating. Ugh, now was not a good time for his sweating problem to act up!
Luckily, Ford didn't seem to smell anything weird as he led his great nephew down a set of wooden stairs. A single lightbulb, hanging forlornly from the ceiling, lit the way as the daylight from the world above disappeared.
At the bottom of the stairs was an elevator. Mason was dead quiet, nervous that if he said anything he'd do something work, somehow.
Ford stepped into the elevator, then looked back at Mason, and laughed softly. Mason felt panic seize him. Was that good? Was that bad? He had no idea why Ford would be laughing.
"You look like me when I first toured a research facility, son," Ford said, smiling down at him.
Mason blinked up at his great uncle and attempted to laugh back. Bad idea. The only thing that came out was a nervous chuckle that he tried to cover up by hurrying into the elevator and focusing intently on its design. It was old-fashioned, with metal struts that acted as a door and made a horrid sound as Ford closed them.
Mason's forehead was getting slicker, and he tried not to wipe the sweat away, even though he was dying to. Doing that might reveal his birthmark, and that wasn't the type of thing to bring up right now. At least he didn't think it was. What would be the type of thing to bring up right now, in this mysterious elevator that had now lurched and started descending? He had no idea. Best not to say anything.
The sweat was just about to run into his eyes. Defeated, he took off his glasses and put them in his shirt pocket, the one with a little blue pine tree embroidered on it. Then he attempted to wipe at his forehead as best he could without dislodging his bangs.
Ford was no help in alleviating the awkwardness, as the man simply waited in silence as the elevator descended. Where were they going? Why had Ford wanted to bring him down here? Did Mason dare hope he was going to confide his findings in him? Maybe even ask for his help?
Oh, what was he thinking. What would Ford want with a thirteen-year-old? The researcher had been doing this decades before Mason had even been born!
The elevator bumped to a stop and Ford pushed the screechy metal doors open. In front of them, an ornate wooden door embedded itself into the wall, a keyhole in the exact center. The golden design around the keyhole and the wood was pushed slightly into the door, giving it almost the appearance of an eye.
Ford reached for a small handle that Mason hadn't even noticed and opened the door. "Step inside."
Mason obliged, slipping his glasses back on, suddenly feeling even more nervous. What if he had done something wrong? Was Ford bringing him down here to scold him? Maybe he had accidentally given out sensitive information, or—
Ford turned on a light.
All thoughts of nervousness fled Mason's mind as he let out an involuntary gasp. The room was filled with books. Shelves and shelves lined the walls, filled with books, broken only by the occasional desk.
"Woah," Mason whispered.
From behind Mason, Ford laughed again, a wrinkled sound that filled the space around them. "I was hoping I'd get a reaction like that." He moved around until he was facing Mason. "I've been watching you over the past week when I can, Mason, and I must say you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age."
"R-really?" Mason stammered.
Ford nodded, smiling.
Mason took a tentative step forward, wanting to look closer at all the books but afraid of overstepping some boundary. As soon as Ford made a go ahead gesture, however, Mason was at the nearest bookshelf, pulling out a book.
It was maroon—they all were. It slid out of the bookshelf with a small poof of dust, and Mason had to brush it off. A golden six-fingered hand lay on the center of the cover, and on the palm of the hand, in bold black ink, was the word, "Fairies."
Mason stared at it for a moment, then replaced it and carefully pulled out another volume. It was the same, except the word on the hand was, "Gobblewonker." A third volume bore the title, "Ghosts 1."
Mason replaced the final book and then stared up at Ford. "Are these. . . your studies?" he asked, his excitement—and sweat, unfortunately—doubling.
Ford smiled. "Yes. This room is the culmination of nearly four decades of supernatural research."
"Woah," Mason repeated.
"Indeed," Ford replied. He started walking to the back of the study, arms crossed behind his back. Mason hurried to catch up. "When I first arrived in Gravity Falls, I simply created a journal and started writing. After six years, I was well into my third. It wasn't until your uncle Stanley joined me that he suggested I start writing them by subject. A rather insightful suggestion, coming from Stanley."
Mason frowned. "You and Stanley didn't come here at the same time?"
Ford glanced back at Mason, then shook his head. "No, it wasn't until I'd been here for half a decade that I invited Stanley to join me. We had some, ah, trouble in the past. But that is fully behind us now." He stopped walking. "Here we are."
Ford reached up to the top of the bookshelf and pulled one of the maroon books into his polydactylic hand, passing it to Mason, who immediately looked for the title. Rather than have a title like the other journals, however, the large tome simply had a "3" filling the gold six-fingered hand on the cover.
"This was my third journal, which I left incomplete after switching to this categorizing system. It's been here, half full, ever since." Ford knelt down and put a hand on Mason's shoulder. "I want you to have it."
Mason stared. "D-do you mean. . . ?"
Ford smiled. "Take this journal, learn from what you read, and record what you find, Mason. What you find with me."
"Y-you want me to c-come on supernatural expeditions with you?"
It felt like a vain hope, and yet, a striking possibility.
"That's exactly what I want, son. Do you think you're up for it?"
Mason tried to say something, but it came out all stammering and garbled. After a moment, he forced himself to stop. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth—
And sneezed violently.
On instinct, his arms shot out so that he didn't sneeze on the journal he was holding, but rather, on the floor. The sneeze wasn't very loud (as usual) but it was forceful (as usual), echoing around the book-filled study. Otherwise, there was a shocked silence as both Mason and Ford processed what happened.
Then Ford started to laugh.
It wasn't a cruel laugh, and Mason found himself joining in before long. It was pretty funny.
"I take that as a yes, then?" Ford asked between chuckles, standing up.
Mason nodded, his embarrassment forgotten at the thought of joining Ford on his adventures. "You really want me to come along and help you explore? This isn't some sort of trick?"
"No trick," Ford said with a smile. "If you really put your mind to it, I can see you having a knack for paranormal investigation."
Mason felt himself overflowing with pride and excitement, and had to keep from sneezing again. "T-thank you, Grunkle Ford! I-I won't let you down!"
Ford looked confused for a moment, then laughed again. "Oh right. 'Grunkle.' I still remember the night Stan came up with that term; he thought he was the smartest guy in town after something so clever."
Mason smiled, remembering Stan explaining to him the term.
"We were preparing for an expedition in just an hour or so," Ford suddenly said. "It was just going to be Wendy and me, but—"
"W-Wendy?"
Mason winced at how his voice squeaked on her name. How could he help it if the mere mention of her made him feel all fluttery inside?
"Yes, Wendy is a valuable companion in any expedition," Ford said. "I would even go so far as to say she's a better fighter than Stan, but don't tell either of them I said that." He winked. "Now, I only just recently had the idea to give you this journal, but what do you say, do you want to come out with us?"
Mason was nodding rapidly before Ford even finished the sentence. "Yes! I would love to come!" He immediately shut his mouth after his outburst, but Ford didn't seem to mind it. "W-what would we be doing?"
"We'd be going to investigate a special place in the forest," Ford said. Mason caught an undertone of it's a surprise in his uncle's voice. "There shouldn't be any run-ins with any monsters, but if there are I assure you Wendy and I can handle them."
An unbidden image of Wendy kicking Gremloblin butt popped into Mason's mind, and he had to shake his head in order to concentrate on what Ford was saying.
"T-that sounds great!" Mason still couldn't quite believe what was happening, but as it was the best thing that had happened to him, well, ever, he just went with it. "You said i-in an hour?"
"Yes. Be ready with a pack for that journal, a pen, some water, and a sack lunch that Wendy will put together. We'd better go back up to the gift shop and tell her, shouldn't we?"
Yeah, they should! And Wendy said Ford was boring. How could she say that, when it turned out she went on expeditions with him all along?
Mason followed Ford out of his study—with one last look at all the journals—and back into the elevator. The trip up was much better than the trip down, with Mason and Ford sharing little smiles and Mason flipping through his new journal. His journal. He liked the sound of that.
There were all sorts of discoveries, usually things Ford was finding for the first time. Mason figured, as he looked down at a page on Lepricorns, that much more extensive knowledge was in all those journals in the study.
Halfway through, the pages turned blank. Mason's stomach fluttered as he rifled through all the blank pages, open, waiting for him to fill them with his own knowledge and thoughts.
The elevator reached the top, and this time, Mason helped Ford push the door open, running up the wooden stairs.
"Wendy! Wendy, you'll never believe what just happened!"
Maybe this summer in Gravity Falls could be amazing, after all.
[This and all other character art is done by ShiningInsanity.]