The bus pulled up to the log-shaped diner, and the twins hopped down. The bus driver got out, too, and helped the twins get their suitcases out from the bus. There was only one problem: No one was there to greet them.

"Wasn't Great Uncle Stanford supposed to be here to pick us up?" asked Dipper.

"I. . . I thought so."

The bus driver, a gopher-like man with a sloped forehead, shot them a concerned look. "You kids gonna be okay?" he asked. "I'd stay and wait with you, but I have a strict schedule."

"He, um, he should be here soon," Mabel said, trying to sound more confident about this than she felt. Maybe he wouldn't come at all. Maybe he didn't exist. Maybe she'd just imagined everything her parents had told her.

"Okay, if you're sure." The bus driver climbed back into his bus. "Stay warm." With a wave, he closed his doors and drove off.

The driver's comment only served to remind Mabel how cold she was. She shivered and pulled her orange jacket around her, suddenly grateful that her parents had forced her and Dipper to pack warmer clothes than they thought they'd need.

Dipper came up next to her. "Hey, Mabel, did you see that guy's name tag? It said 'Soos'. Isn't that a weird name? Soos." He drew the word out and laughed at its sound. "It'd be cool if my name was a—" He paused. "Mabel, what's that called? When a word is spelled the same forward and backward?"

Mabel, who had only been half listening, now blinked and looked to her brother. "Huh? You mean a palindrome?"

"Yeah, that!"

There was a beat of silence as the twins looked around at their surroundings. Then, "Where do you think Stanford is?" asked Dipper. Before Mabel could answer, he rocketed off with another question. "Hey, do you want to go exploring? I bet we could find the museum on our own!"

Mabel hesitated. Stanford should be on his way, right? She liked exploring — but if they left, then Stanford might come to an empty rendezvous point. And besides, he was bringing a car for their suitcases. Mabel didn't want to drag her luggage behind her on this cold, snowy road.

"Let's wait, Dipper," she said decisively. Although if they waited so long that they were about to freeze, then they should go looking for the museum themselves.

No sooner than she said it, however, did a long red car come hurtling down the street. It wove back and forth along the thankfully empty road and then skidded to a stop, its nose coming startlingly close to Mabel and Dipper. Snowy dust swirled around the tires as the driver's door opened.

"Robbie, how many times have I told you to drive carefully!" a grizzled voice shouted.

The driver laughed as he got out. "Sorry, Mr. Pines," he said in a tone that hardly sounded apologetic. "Hey, are you the Pines twins?"

It took Mabel a moment to realize he was talking to her. The boy standing in front of her had to be at least sixteen years old. Long black hair swept over his dark eyes, and an easy smile curved along his face. At the sight of him, Mabel's brain temporarily short-circuited, and she just looked at him blankly.

"Pines twins? That's us!" Dipper replied, bouncing forward. "I'm Dipper, and the girl staring at you like she's just seen Bigfoot is Mabel."

Mabel's eyes widened; when she spoke, her mouth stumbled over the words, like it usually did when faced with strangers. "I-I — no, I wasn't — Dipper!" Her face flushed, she turned meekly back to Robbie. "S-sorry."

Robbie laughed. "You're fine, kid. Hey, Mr. Pines, come meet your relatives!"

The passenger door opened with a grumble as a lightning bolt shot through Mabel's heart. Mr. Pines. Somehow, she hadn't processed what the name meant until this moment, but — "Mr. Pines" had to be Stanford. "Mr. Pines" was her uncle, and he was getting out of the car. She was about to meet a real supernatural researcher!

Then she caught sight of him, and her excitement tripled.

Stanford Pines was tall and, barring the wrinkles on his aged face, notably handsome. He peered down at Mabel and Dipper through square-shaped glasses, as if surprised to see them. A streak of silver ran through neatly trimmed grey hair, and he wore a tan trenchcoat that made him look like he went on adventures every other day. He seemed the perfect portrait of a supernatural explorer.

Or, he would, if the expression on his face weren't so hedged and hesitant.

He coughed. "Um, greetings."

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Say hi, Mr. Pines."

"Hi!" Dipper said for him. "I'm Dipper! I get the name from my birthmark, see?" He pushed up his hair to show the birthmark on his forehead, shaped like the Little Dipper constellation, and rotated so both Robbie and Stanford could see. "My real name is Mason, which is good enough, I guess — but not nearly as cool as Dipper, don't you think? So you can call me Dipper. Hey, Great Uncle Stanford, is there anything shorter we could call you? Like—"

"It's Ford." He held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "You can call me Ford."

"Oh, okay, I — woah!"

Mabel had noticed it, too. Her heartbeat sped up as her brother exclaimed, "You have six fingers!"

For the first time, a small smile found its way onto Ford's face. "Yes, yes I do." He held out his hand to shake Dipper's.

Dipper giggled. "A six-fingered handshake! It's a full finger friendlier than normal!"

"I suppose I've never thought about it that way," Ford replied. He looked down at Mabel. "And what about you? Mabel, right?"

"Y-yeah," Mabel stammered. No other words came to her throat; instead, she just stared silently at her uncle. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. He seemed just as she imagined him — and also better — and also worse. The uncertain expression on his face poked a small hole in Mabel's excitement. But, she hurried to tell herself, maybe he just got nervous when meeting new people, too. With that thought (and with the thought that maybe she and her uncle were a lot alike), Mabel's excitement patched the hole, and a warm anticipation grew steadily in her chest.

Her gaze seemed to make Ford uncomfortable. "Well," he said, "let's get you out of the cold. Pile on into the car, kids. Robbie can help you with your things."

"But Mr. Pines can't," Robbie finished sarcastically. He grinned at Dipper and took a couple bags.

Mabel tore her eyes from Ford and grabbed a suitcase. Together, the twins and Robbie lifted the luggage into the trunk of the car. (Ford stood by the passenger door, supervising — or, in other words, doing nothing at all.) They were halfway through this task when Dipper suddenly yelled, "Grunkle!" and sent Mabel jumping away from him in surprise.

Dipper dropped the bag he was holding into the trunk and ran around the car to Ford. "Can we call you Grunkle? Short for Great Uncle? Grunkle Ford!"

"Uh, sure," Ford replied slowly.

Behind the car and next to Mabel, Robbie chuckled. "Grunkle. That's a good idea."

"Yeah," Mabel agreed. It made him seem more like family, which only reminded Mabel how lucky she was to be related to someone like him.

Once they all got in the car, Mabel wanted to pepper Ford with questions about the work he did and the adventures he had. What kind of supernatural creatures had he met? Could he give them a tour of his museum? Did he have any adventures planned? But her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she couldn't say anything. Even though she was excited, her nervousness had come knocking on her mind — and then forcibly taken up residence.

While Mabel sat silently in the back seat, trying to force her voice to work, Dipper talked plenty for the both of them. "I can't wait to see your museum, Grunkle Ford," he said. "Museums are pretty boring, usually — but yours is called the Mystery Museum, so it has to be cool, right? Our parents told us about it. They said it was a tourist trap full of fake stuff, but Mabel and I think it's real magic, right, Mabes?"

Mabel wanted to respond but couldn't. Dipper kept talking, though, so she didn't have to.

"Our parents didn't tell us about your six fingers, though. Did they not know, or did they want it to be a surprise? It was an awesome surprise. Anyway, what's up with the name Gravity Rises? It sounds like a paradox. You'd think it'd be called Gravity Heights or something — since it's named for its mountains, right? — but I guess Gravity Rises sounds cooler. More mysterious and all. You know all about mysteries, right, Grunkle Ford?"

With this, Dipper paused long enough for Ford to reply. "I suppose I do," their great uncle said.

Mabel couldn't stop a frown from leaping to her face. He supposed? He came up against mysteries all the time, and he only supposed he knew about them?

The Mystery Museum was only just down the street from the log-shaped diner, as it turned out. Dipper opened his mouth to talk some more, but Robbie beat him to it. He pulled the car to a stop and announced, "Here we are!" He turned the car off, pulled out the key, opened the door, and got out — all in one fluid movement.

"Cool!" Dipper burst out from the car. Mabel followed (but at a more normal pace) and joined Robbie and her brother at the back of the car, where they pulled suitcases from the trunk. "Hey, Robbie," Dipper said randomly, "you're not a long-lost cousin of ours or anything, are you?"

Robbie laughed. "Nope, just an employee of the Mystery Museum. And occasionally Mr. Pines' chaperone. You talk a lot, kid."

Some people might take offense to a statement like that, but Dipper had long since learned to take it as a compliment. "Yep! It makes up for Mabel not saying anything."

"I talk!" Mabel exclaimed. Oh, now her mouth worked. "H-he's just better at it," she mumbled, blushing from her outburst.

Robbie grinned at her, which only made her face grow warmer.

"This place is so huge, Robbie!" continued Dipper. "You work here?"

"Yep," Robbie replied. "The Museum is only part of the building, though. Mr. Pines has his lab in the back, plus the 'living quarters'." He made quotation marks with his fingers as he said that last part.

"You live here, too?"

Another laugh. "No, only Mr. Pines does. My house is in that direction." He pointed vaguely across the street.

Mabel didn't follow his finger, though. Instead, she turned to Ford as her eyes lit up. This time, thankfully, her voice worked. "Grunkle Ford," she said, "what kind of stuff is in your lab? Can I see?"

Ford, who had just eased himself from the car, bent backwards and popped his back with a loud crack. "Let's get you settled first," he said. "Everyone grab some bags, and we'll head in."

They made for a bulky procession, with suitcases wobbling over the snow and backpacks looped around arms. Robbie ended up with the most, Ford with the least.

"You guys have a lot of luggage for two twelve-year-olds," Robbie pointed out. His voice didn't sound demeaning or critical, however.

"We're thirteen, actually," Dipper replied cheerfully. "And yeah, our parents made sure we had lots of winter gear. We're not used to this whole snow thing. Does it snow this much every year? I bet you guys make awesome snow forts!"

"Sometimes," Robbie agreed. Mabel marveled at how laidback the teenager seemed, especially in the face of Dipper's endless talking.

"I'm afraid I don't have much space for guests," Ford said, "so you two are up in the attic."

"Sweet!" Dipper exclaimed, passing by Robbie to run up the stairs. "Does it have one of those cool sloped ceilings? Mabel, I bet there are tons of spiders and stuff! Come on!"

Mabel didn't run after him; instead, she slowly ascended the staircase with Ford, Robbie, and the suitcases. Quiet anxiety fluttered in her stomach — as it often did when Dipper left her side — but she tried to ignore it.

"Man, that kid sure has a lot of energy," Robbie commented. "I'd usually run away from an attic full of spiders, if you know what I mean."

Mabel tried to laugh, but the air got stuck halfway up her windpipe. "Dipper loves that kind of stuff," she said, "but yeah, they creep me out." She glanced to Ford. "If you have anything like spiders in your museum, he'll be thrilled."

Ford laughed, a barking sound that startled Mabel. "I have much cooler things than spiders."

A thrill raced through Mabel's chest. She hoped so. She really, really hoped so.

They reached the top of the stairs and pushed everything into the attic room. Mabel craned her neck to look at the sloped ceiling, which did indeed have spider webs, and—

"Mabel, bats!"

At Dipper's screech, the small family of bats that had been curled up on the rafters fell towards the floor, catching themselves with their wings and swooping around the room.

Mabel ducked, laughing in surprised delight as she watched the bats fly. They were beautiful.

"I thought I'd gotten rid of those!" Ford exclaimed, swinging a backpack through the air to ward them off. "Sorry, kids. Robbie, go open the window!"

"Are you kidding me? They're awesome!" Dipper grinned as he watched the swarm. "We should let them stay! I don't mind!"

Mabel wasn't sure she wanted to room with a family of bats, but she did like watching them. She took a mental picture of her brother, reaching out into the storm of wings, laughing.

"Trust me, they'll be better off in an empty attic somewhere. There are plenty in this town." Ford's words were accented with grunts as he chased the bats through the window. All but one had gone; the small survivor hid itself in a crevice near the bed Dipper had claimed as his own.

"Hey, little guy!" Dipper said, slowly reaching out.

"Dipper, don't touch it!" Mabel said. "Diseases!" The twins both loved all sorts of creatures, but Dipper was far more hands-on than Mabel (who had no desire to contract rabies, thank you very much).

The bat startled at Dipper's approach and flew off with a screech, following his family out the window. Robbie shut it as soon as the little guy disappeared. "Any more catastrophes, or can I get back to the checkout counter? Melody can't run this place by herself."

Ford inclined his head to the teenager. "We'll leave you two alone to get settled," he said to the twins.

"What about the lab?" Mabel burst out.

"Melody will want to give you a tour in the Hall of Mysteries first," Robbie said. "She's excited to meet you."

"I'm excited to meet her too!" said Dipper, even though he had no idea who this Melody was.

"Then can we see your lab?" Mabel asked Ford.

"That's fine," Ford said, "although I think the Museum displays will be more interesting to you. Just tell Melody to let you in through the side door." With that, he gestured to Robbie, and the two left, shutting the door softly behind them.

Silence.

Well, for a moment.

"Isn't this awesome, Mabel? Hey, I hope you don't mind that I took the bed on this side. They both look the same to me, except this one has an awesome spider web next to it."

"I don't mind," Mabel said. She brought her suitcases over to the foot of her bed one by one, then pulled out her sketchbook and pencil case. She wanted to go tour the Museum and see Ford's lab — but now she was even more nervous than before. Drawing calmed her down, and she knew just what she would sketch. So she pulled her blanket out of a suitcase, spread it on the bed (she wasn't taking any chances until she verified that these sheets had been washed sometime in the past year), and sat down.

"Wait, Mabel — don't you want to go see the Museum?"

Mabel didn't look up. "Yeah, but. . . I need a minute. You can unpack." Technically, she also needed to unpack, but that could wait.

"What are you drawing?"

Mabel didn't answer: She was focused on her sketchbook. Dipper, who would have come over to watch if he didn't know how much Mabel hated that, stayed on his side of the room to unpack.

"There's a closet over here," Dipper said as he explored the room. "Do you want any space in it?"

"Not much," Mabel said, not taking her eyes off her sketchpad. "You can have it for your sneakers."

"Sweet!" Dipper had the most extensive shoe collection Mabel had ever seen, with all sorts of colorful sneakers. He'd managed to convince his parents to drag almost all of them up to Gravity Rises with them, much to his joy. Mabel had been skeptical that he'd wear them all, but Dipper insisted that he would. He might wear the same pair of shorts for way too long, but you would never catch Dipper wearing the same shoes two days in a row.

When Mabel was almost done with her drawing, Dipper flopped back onto his bed, suitcases unpacked and everything put away either in the closet or the moldy-looking dresser by his bed. Dipper was much more organized than Mabel; she'd been planning on living out of her suitcases for most of the trip.

"You done yet?" he asked, hanging upside down off the bed. "This is much more fun with bunk beds, you know. That would be cool if we had a bunk bed!"

"No, it wouldn't," Mabel said. She had some bad memories involving bunk beds — specifically, memories of falling off them.

"You're almost done, right? I don't wanna go downstairs by myself."

"I'm almost done."

She put the finishing touches on the drawing and sat back to admire it. Her brother stood in the focal point of the picture, his laugh captured in a single facial expression. A wispy wing brushed against his hand as the bats flew around him.

"All right. You can come see."

Dipper rocketed over, somehow getting from his upside-down position to Mabel's bed in two seconds without hitting his skull on the floor. "Woah, that's awesome!" he exclaimed. He always loved her drawings, but he seemed particularly excited about this one. "That's totally a keeper," he said, referring to the portfolio that Mabel kept of all the people and things she sketched. Lots of the pictures were of Dipper or her parents, but she also snuck sketches of interesting strangers or animals.

Mabel closed her sketchbook and set it on the bedside table. "Can we go now?" asked Dipper, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Even after drawing, Mabel's nervousness still broiled in her belly. "I. . . I dunno, Dip," she said. She looked up at him with worried eyes. "What do you think of Grunkle Ford?"

"He's nice," said Dipper, but he said that about everyone. "His extra finger is awesome, and his adventurer getup looks great, too. What's the matter?" he added when he saw the misgivings on Mabel's face.

"He doesn't seem very. . . confident," Mabel said. She knew it was an unfair judgment to make, given her own woeful lack of confidence; but she hadn't thought that her uncle would have anything short of a brazen sense of adventure. Instead, he had seemed almost relieved to retreat from the twins after showing them their room. "Maybe. . ." She hesitated, not wanting to say it out loud but unable to keep it inside. "Maybe he is just a fake."

Dipper gave her a disbelieving look. "Oh, come on, Mabel! Don't say that! Fakes usually try harder to pretend, don't they? If Ford's a fake, wouldn't he put on some big show?"

Mabel made a noncommittal noise.

"I have an idea," Dipper said. "Instead of sitting around worrying about it, why don't we just see for ourselves? We don't have to guess!"

He was right, Mabel knew. But. . . she didn't want her fears to be confirmed. It was almost easier to worry about it, because at least there was a possibility that her worries were wrong.

Dipper took her hand and tugged on it. "C'mon, let's go meet Melody. She'll give us a tour, and then we'll see that Grunkle Ford's stuff is real."

Mabel sighed. "Okay, Dip," she said. She didn't understand how he could act so sure of himself, but at least one of them was confident.

The twins went back down the stairs: Dipper raced to the bottom while Mabel took her time. "Where is everybody?" Dipper asked. He stood in the middle of the empty living room, looking around as if he could find them from there. Then his eyes caught a door in the wall, in the opposite corner from the stairs. He rushed over. "What's in here?"

He put his hand on the doorknob and was just about to turn it when the door opened from the other side. It swung open, away from Dipper, and revealed a woman in a green t-shirt. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Dipper, and she stepped back. Mabel couldn't help but sympathize: She had plenty of experience with Dipper suddenly appearing where she hadn't expected him.

"Hi!" Dipper said, oblivious to the fact that he'd just startled the poor woman. "I'm Dipper! What's your name?"

The woman lowered her hand from her heart, where it had flown to upon seeing Dipper. "Hi there," she said. It only took a blink for the startled expression to disappear from her face. A bright smile replaced it. She looked between Dipper, standing in front of her, and Mabel, still standing by the stairs. "You must be Dipper and Mabel," she said. "I was just coming to find you, but I guess you found me! I'm Melody Ramirez. Welcome to Gravity Rises!"

"Thanks," Mabel said softly.

"Hi, Melody! Robbie said you would give us a tour! Do you work here too?"

Melody nodded, the smile still on her face. "I do a lot of things around here. One of those is lead tours in the Hall of Mysteries. I'm just about to take a group back to see the Museum displays — follow me, and I'll take you along with us."

"Yeah!" Dipper cheered.

"Grunkle Ford said—" Mabel's voice faltered, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Grunkle Ford said you could take us back to his lab afterward. Through a side door."

Melody's smile softened as she looked to Mabel. "Of course I can," she said. "I'll show you the door when we get there, and you and Dipper can slip away from the group. Does that sound good?"

Mabel nodded. She liked Melody already: Her features were kind, and her voice flowed easily through the air.

She didn't, however, like the idea of a group. She'd thought this tour would be private. So she was glad they wouldn't have to stay around other people the whole time.

Melody led the twins through the door, taking them into what appeared to be a gift shop. A small group of people stood by the checkout counter, where Robbie waved to the twins.

"Looks like you've already met Robbie Corduroy," said Melody.

"He's awesome!" Dipper said, waving back to him.

"All right, everyone, let's go!" Melody called to the group. Mabel stood near Dipper, which was far more comfortable than being alone in a crowd, and avoided the gazes of the assembled tourists. At the front of the group, Melody headed for another door in the gift shop and led them into the narrow hall beyond.

Surely everyone could hear Mabel's frantically beating heart. This was it. She moved along with the crowd, simultaneously wanting to go faster and to back out entirely. What if it was fake? What if it was real? What if she couldn't even tell?

Then she was through the door: past the point of no return.

She was, for better or for worse, officially inside the heart of the Mystery Museum.

Art by Thia Holimon