Jack's done a terrific job of it, too, leaving Dawson both impressed and grateful. Mr. Modelmaker is a little unclear though, as to why Mr. Director needs such a tiny town for the movie in the first place. "You're not gonna blow it up, are you?" Jack asks. "No, there are no asteroids in this movie," Dawson replies with a smile (referring tongue-in-cheekedly (yes, I know that word doesn't really exist ... deal!) to last summer's blockbusters, Deep Impact and Armageddon, which both blew up miniature versions of cities to create special effects).
Dawson explains that he needs the mini Capeside to do aerial shots and establishing shots for Creek Daze. Pacey nods in approval, but then offers a goodbye, as he has a "tonne of homework to do, including Mr. Peterson's assignment." Dawson can't believe his ears ... Pacey Witter leaving early to do homework? "That's slightly less believable than an Enquirer headline," he chortles. "I know," Pacey grins. "Disgusting habit, isn't it?"
The guys laugh, then Dawson says his goodbyes to both Pacey and Jack. Though Pacey is packing up to leave, Jack doesn't have to quite yet, and offers to stay. The tension between he and Dawson, though fairly low-key, is still there. Dawson isn't quite sure he's ready to become bosom buddies with Jack just yet, so he offers the excuse that he's just going to do a test shot, and that there really isn't much for Jack to stick around for. Still, Jack says he'd like to see it anyway. (you have to wonder whatever could possess Jack to want to stay put in the first place, though! I mean, they're hardly members of the Mutual Admiration Sociey, you know?) Nevertheless, Dawson agrees that Jack can watch the test.
Pacey is amused by the situation, but not enough to stick around and watch the melee he thinks will result from it. "Ta-ta gents," he offers at his departure. "Don't stay up too late! After all, it is a school night!" Dawson is both amused and impressed by the New-And-Improved Pacey. Speaking as Pacey's "closest friend," Dawson notes "Your sister has had a profound influence on him."
"Yeah," Jack notes. "Relationships will do that." "Yeah," Dawson manages to mutter. An awkward silence settles in as the two mull over what Jack just said. Jack's the first to acknowledge the inappropriateness of his words, and apolozies. "Sorry ... I didn't mean it the way that it came out," he says, almost embarrassed.
"Look, Jack," Dawson begins. "I know this hasn't exactly been the easiest of situation for either of us, but your help on the film has been so significant ... we're cool, right?" Now it's Jack's term to manage a small "Yeah" of his own. "So," Dawson says to change the subject, "What is Peterson's latest assignment?"
Jack explains the assignment is to write a poem about something which is critical to your being, but he thinks it's just going to be another one of his monumental screw-ups. (methinks Jacky boy has taken over Pacey's legacy as Capeside High's biggest underachiever) He asks Dawson for advice, seeing as Mr. Leery is the "expert writer" around these parts, and Jack has read his script. Dawson doesn't think the poem can be that hard, but Jack wants to know how to "get to the good stuff."
Dawson tells him to just listen to himself. "Writing is about opening up, and offering the world a peek into a private part of yourself that you just stifle otherwise," he notes. "So ... I should just listen to myself?" Jack asks. "Yes," Dawson replies. "And let them know what you hear." (hoo-boy ... are those words ever gonna come back and bite him in the butt!) Before Jack can tell Dawson exactly what it is he's hearing from himself, Dawson asks him to dim the lights, and voila! Through Dawson's camera lens we see a "perfect creekside village," which fades into the opening credits. Very cute.
On a brand-new school day, Pacey bumps into his guidance counsellor, Mr. Milos, who is about to tell young Mr. Witter something, only to be met with the following: "Before you say anything, I have the situation under complete control!" "And what situation is that? the amused counsellor wants to know. "Well, whichever one of my academic improprieties you're going to tell me about," Pacey says gingerly, fearing the worst.
For once though, Pacey's worst academic nightmares have turned into his best scholastic dreams. "Improprieties is the wrong word," Mr. Milos says warmly. "Try kudos." The midterm reports for all students on academic probation are in, and after reviewing them all, and "removing (his) jaw from the ground," Mr Milos is just tickled to announce that Pacey's passed with more than flying colours -- 3 B's and 2 A's.
"That's impossible," Pacey splutters, removing his own jaw from the ground. "One would think so," murmurs the counsellor, with a twinkle in his eye, which reaches down throughout his face and turns into a smile. "I'm liking this," Pacey nods, with a smile of his own. "This smiling thing ... I'm definitely liking it!" Mr. Milos tells him to keep up the good work as Pacey bounces into school with a definite spring in his step.
In the hall, he spots Andie, picks her up, twirls her round and kisses her passionately, much to the delight of her and the amusement of Joey and Jack, who are looking on, smiling. "What was that for?" Andie grins. "Just 'cause," Pacey answers, smiling broadly. (sigh ... those are just the best kind, the ones that have no reason or warning to them whatsoever)
Jack is motivated enough by Pacey and Andie's lip-lock to try and duplicate it with Joey, but she backs off, telling him that face-sucking like that should be reserved for "bedrooms and sunsets." (true enough)
Just then, along comes Dawson -- but instead of commenting about Joey and Jack's hallway antics, he wants to talk business with Jack. Dawson asks if the beauty pagent set for the movie has been built yet. Jack replies he should have it done by the weekend, so Dawson agrees to start shooting the weekend after that. Just then the bell rings and off to Peterson's class Jack goes, his ubiquitous poem in hand.
At their lockers, Joey commends Dawson for speaking to Jack so politely. "That was nice," she comments. Dawson's taken aback and genuinely puzzled. "What?" he asks, confused. "You and Jack actually conversing," Joey smiles. Dawson remarks that some people are capable of moving beyond long-term rivalries, but as usual, Joey can see right through him. "If Jack wasn't doing this movie, he'd still be the enemy," she notes (correctly). "Not true," Dawson replies, which exasperates Joey. "You're so Hollywood!" she shouts after his retreating figure down the hall.
Outside, poor Jen is innocently minding her own business when she gets stalked by Ty the wonder puppy. Only this week, he's made the transition from canine to feline (a definite improvement, in my book), and is muttering some spiel about how Jen is his prey and he's a lion, or something like that ... clearly the boy's been reading too much from the book of Genesis, or he's been watching too many National Geographic specials on the Discovery Channel.
Anyway, Jen is not particularly impressed by the sight of him, a fact he, being the puppy he is, doesn't seem to quite get. "As far as I know, three adorable phone messages were left for you with my number included. Why haven't you returned any of them?" he enquires. "You're on my To Call list," Jen replies flatly. "I'm just working my way around to you." (ouch!!)
Ty doesn't want to "toot (his) own horn," but he could swear that Jen was into him the night they went out. But even he can figure out what her hesitancy stems from -- "the Bible speak freaked you out," he comments glumly. Jen replies that honestly, yes, it did, and Ty is quick to counter that there's more to him than the Old Testament. "For your information, I'm not some Bible-banging Dorkus McPhorkus," he tells her. (Oh no, no, of course you aren't, and comments like that go a long way in strengthening your case)
Jen stifles a giggle and tells him she's sure he isn't, but that obviously his religion is very important to him, and she just sees it as "an inevitable obstacle in our relationship." She notes that although Ty is sweet and funny, he goes to Bible meetings three times a week, which is about how many times she's been to church in the past 10 years. "Hopefully, you can understand why that would present a problem with us being anything more than friends," she says gently.
"Well, that just goes to show how little you know me," Ty offers, scrambling to do some rapid PR damage to his Goody Two-Shoes reputaiton. "I'm not funny at all, and I'm not giving up!" He smiles at her earnestly. "That's a shame," she responds in amusement. "I thought most women admired persistance," he laments. Jen smiles, and turns his words right back at him. "Well, then, that just goes to show how little you know me," she answers with a wry smile. "I'm not most women."
In English class, pompous Mr. Peterson is picking up the poetry assignments from his pupils. (hey, I just invented a new tongue-twister!) When he gets to Pacey, he drones loud enough for the class to hear, "Mr. Witter. Empty-handed, I presume?" Pacey scrambles, but turns in his assignment after finding it in (shock and horror) his binder. "Ode to a Sports Car?" Peterson sniffs. "Hey, it's more exciting than Grecian Urns, trust me," Pacey smiles, but the humour falls on deaf ears.
"I see you're experimenting with cursive for the first time," Mr. Peterson says disdainfully, adding that presentation is half the grade. "I worked hard on that!" Pacey cries, but Peterson doesn't care, of course. "I'm sure," he replies dryly. Peterson then tells Pacey that Pacey can either bring the poem in the next day, written legibly, and lose points for lateness, or he can hand it in now and the highest grade Pacey will see "is your old friend, the letter D."
"That's not fair!" Pacey says indignantly, but of course, his protest isn't validated. "Fairness is over-rated," Peterson answers smugly. "Is it just me,or does that man get meaner every day," Pacey mutters to Jack, who is sitting beside him. "It's not just you," Jack offers sympathetically.
Unfortunately, Peterson's hearing is selective after all, and he chooses to hear this last exchange. After calling Jack on it, and receiving a protest that he and Pacey weren't talking about anything, Hurricane Peterson changes course and sets out on crushing the mind and destroying the fragile ego of his new victim.
"I trust your poetry assignment went well?" Peterson quizzes Jack, who gulps and answers, all flustered, that it did. Peterson demands to know if Jack is aware of how critical his grade on this assignment is to passing the class, and insists Jack read his work out loud. "But, but ... you said these poems were just for you," Jack pleads, growing increasingly alarmed with each word. "I changed my mind," Peterson counters with a self-satisfied, smug grin. "These things happen."
The prospect of reading his poem out loud clearly rattles Jack, who gulps and manages to squeak out, "I'd really rather not." Of course, Peterson doesn't care what Jack would and would not really rather do, and tells Jack it is of no importance to him. "If it's okay with you, can I just hand it in?" Jack begs desparately. "Read the poem," Peterson demands. He's like a dog with a bone, or a pit-bull with someone's arm or leg, more like. Peterson's sunk his teeth into something here and there is no way he is going to let go till he rips it to shreds. "Please --" Jack pleads one last time. "We're waiting," Peterson states with a tone of finality.
The class waits as Jack stands up, flustered and wearing a look of sheer agony. He begins in a whisper, his voice trembling at every word.
"Today.
Today was a day.
The world grew smaller, darker.
I grew more afraid.
Not of what I am, but of what I --"
He stops abruptly, his eyes begging Peterson not to make him carry on. "Continue," Peterson barks harshly. Jack has no choice but to comply.
"I grew more afraid.
Not of what I am, but of what I ... could be.
I loosen my collar to take a breath.
My eyes fade.
And I see ... him.
The image of perfection.
His frame strong, his lips smooth.
And I keep thinking, what am I so scared of?
I wish I could escape the pain, but these thoughts invade my head.
Bound to my memory, they're like shackles of guilt --"
The poor boy can't continue. By this point, he's in tears and bolts out of the class, Pacey hot on his heels. "What are you doing?" Peterson roars at Pacey. "I'm going to see if he's all right," Pacey replies, like Peterson would have to be an idiot not to suss that out in the first place. "No you are not. Sit down." Pacey starts to protest, but is silenced. "I said, sit down. You will do nothing of the kind. Sit down." "But he was crying --" Pacey indignantly counters.
Peterson's decided the conversation is over, though, and instructs the class to open their books to page 57, stanza 2 as they carry on with their lesson. Pacey defiantly sits in his seat, arms folded across his chest, shooting daggers, bullets and various other lethal paraphenalia at Peterson with his eyes.
Meanwhile, Joey and Dawson are in the library together, doing a little surfing on the net. Joey's happily typing away, as Dawson looks over her shoulder trying to get a peek at her secret online handle. "What is it?" he teases. "Juicy Joey? Perky Potter?" "What's yours?" she counters. "Speilberg Stud?" (this whole conversation is incongruous with the activities on the Dawson's Desktop site -- not only do Dawson & Joey e-mail each other regularly, they also "chat" to each other, using their screen names: Joey is JPotter and Dawson is FilmMkr)
Anyway, as they banter back and forth, a fellow student's voice floats above the room chatter and informs the population of the latest school gossip. "So he's crying --" "Who?" another voice interrupts. "Jack McPhee, the new kid. Peterson makes him read his poem in class and he starts crying." A third voice picks up the story. "Here's the best part -- the poem was about a guy." Instantly, Joey's face pales. "McPhee's a total homo," the first voice announces triumphantly. "Total, no doubt," the second voice agrees, while Joey's face displays a thousand emotions at once.
Something I don't understand here -- for the All-Nighter episode, Joey and Dawson were in Peterson's English class, remember? (They all went to a study session at Chris Wolfe's house) But in this episode, not only are they not in Peterson's class (skipping?), but neither are Andie, Jen and Chris. And yet, Jack is, and he wasn't originally. The only one who's stayed put throughout this whole academic version of Musical Chairs is Pacey. Those continuity people sure do need to get their facts straight, huh?
Over at the ice house, Dawson wants to know how Joey's coping with this vicious rumour about her beau's newfound sexuality. Before he can approach her, Bessie (she's alive! Alive! Insert maniacal cackle here) gives him a casual hello. (I guess this is just tokenism, just so we know Nina Repeta is still on the payroll) Dawson asks Joey if she's talked to Jack yet, but Joey airily brushes it off, saying they haven't really had had the chance, and that Jack is still pretty upset about it.
Dawson tries to be sympathetic and supportive, telling her he can imagine the rumours that are flying about, and Joey breezily jokes that she's heard everything from Jack wearing a dress downtown Capeside, to him having checked into a monastery to deal with his sexual ambivalence. (Hmmm ... where's Abby when you really need her to stir things up? I bet she could have a field day with this one)
Dawson calls Joey on being pretty flip about the situation, and she snaps at him, asking why wouldn't she be flip, after all, it's a big joke. "Is it?" he asks gently. "What are you insinuating?" she barks back. "Nothing," he fumbles, searching for the right words to balance his concern and curiosity. (and probably a little bit of hopefulness thrown in for good measure, too, tee hee hee)
Joey is livid. She can't believe Dawson could give validity to some ridiculous rumour that Jack is gay, but when Dawson tries to explain himself, and tell her that he would hope that she knows him well enough to know that his concern is genuine, she won't accept it. Instead, she argues that it's just Dawson's "passive-aggressive way of highlighting a flaw in Jack to get us to break up!" Dawson's quite hurt by her accusation, and tells her it's way over the line. "No it's not," she shouts, "Not from where I'm standing! It's completely in balance!"
That evening at the McPhee's, Pacey and Andie are studying history together in the dining room. Jack pops his head in, and tells the pair in a sad voice that he's going to go down to the Ice House to help them close up. Pacey smiles brightly and says a few encouraging words, but Andie is silent. After Jack leaves, Pacey reprimands his girlfriend for being a bit frosty, and asks why she hasn't said two words to her brother. Andie won't give him a straight answer though. Her defense is that if Jack hadn't written something that hadn't been so easily misinterpreted, none of the situation would be occuring in the first place.
Pacey's not impressed with her answer and dives head-first into a conversation which is strikingly similar to the one Dawson just had with Joey. "So he should censor himself?" Pacey asks incredulously. "He should have known better than to expose himself to someone as venemous as Peterson," Andie insists. Pacey still can't believe what he's hearing, and ventures that while he might be reaching, he doubts that "guest-starring in his own public humiliation was not Jack's intention." In fact, Pacey thinks there's something deeper going on. "Like?" Andie snaps. "Like ... you should talk to him," Pacey urges, amazed at her stubbornness. "About what?" Andie sighs. "About ... the poem! Maybe it wasn't misinterpreted," he suggests.
And, just like Joey, Andie once again proves the classic cliche "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt." (think about it) "No. Jack is not gay!" she insissts. "Look, I know him better than you. Ever since we were kids, he's had this whole different drummer thing going on, and not everybody gets it. But Jack has talked about girls his whole life ... He's crazy about Joey, he hates Madonna ... he's not gay!" (ah yes, a distaste for the Material Girl, the classic yardstick by which all homosexuals are measured ...)
"Have you ever asked him?" Pacey ventures quietly. "I don't need to," Andie screeches. (time for someone to pop a couple of Xaxax ...) Pacey plays armchair psychologist then, and asks Andie if Jack were gay, how would it make her feel? "I guess I'd be disappointed," she answers honestly, letting her guard down for a moment, but then quickly recovering her wall of anger when Pacey tells her he's disappointed she's disappointed. "I don't need this!" she shouts. "I don't need to be attacked for my hypothetical feelings in a hypothetical situation that is completely and totally unfathomable!" "For his sake, I hope you're right," Pacey notes softly, to which Andie sighs in exasperation then walks away.
"Hello?" Jen answers the phone, only to hear Ty asking, nay, begging for a date. "What if I didn't ask you out on a date per se?" he begins (oh Lord, no, no, no ... please don't tell me Jack's concept of dat-ing has spread ...) "Then you wouldn't have to worry about our inevitable breakup due to ideological differences, and you could still go out with me -- non Bible-related, I promise." He's a little too eager, and as Jen said in last week's episode, down, boy.
When she declines his offer, he pouts. "Awwww, Jeeee-eeeennn!" (yeah, that's the key to a girl's heart: whining) "Have a little faith in me! Maybe underneath that Sunday School veneer there lies a partying maniac!" he suggests hopefully. "I doubt it," Jen replies dryly, with a smile on her face. "I'm hanging up now." Click. Strike One.
No sooner has she put the phone down, when it rings again. "I told you I was persistent!" Ty announces enthusiastically. "Persistent isn't exactly the word that comes to mind right now," Jen frowns. (yeah, try ... annoying? irritating? a stalker?) Ty insists he wants to pick her up at 9 o'clock, to which Jen curtly says no and hangs up. Click. Strike Two.
But like the boy said, he's persistent (among other things). Ty calls back immediately, hoping to hit a Grand Slam with his next offer. "9:45? Going once, going twice --" "You really are persistent!" Jen marvels, although Ty seems to be making some progress here, she's laughing more than she's scowling. "Come on, Jen, just a couple of hours?" he begs (yes, begs) hopefully. "Fine. Be here at 10," she smiles into the phone. Click. There goes the ball game, folks!
At the Ice House, Joey and the now ever-present Bessie are chit-chatting about nothing particularly important when Jack approaches them to pick up some cleaning supplies. Bessie's concerned, she thinks Jack has been as "quiet as a churchmouse all night" (only that's yet another continuity error -- it's bright sunshine in this shot) and asks what happened. "Don't even ask," Joey sighs. "The poor guy looks like he lost his best friend," Bessie sympathizes, and suggests Joey go talk to him.
"He doesn't want to," Joey tells her miserably. "How do you talk to somebody about something they clearly don't want to talk about?" "Well," Bessie suggests, "I always start with, 'Long day, huh?' It opens the conversation up." (Bessie, you're far too nice. Personally I always start with "What the hell is your problem today?!" Which usually opens an argument up, but at least the air gets cleared and there's no more pussyfooting around, right?)
Bessie leaves then, and Joey uses her sister's line on Jack. "Long day, huh?" she begins half-heartedly. Jack doesn't appreciate pussyfooting either. "If you want to ask me something, I suggest you just ask," he states, a touch pissed. "I'm sorry," Joey whispers. "It's just ... people are already saying things ..."
"Since when do you care what people say? That's not like you," Jack scolds her. "Maybe it's because you still haven't offered me any kind of explanation for what you wrote," Joey suggests softly. "I don't have to," Jack insists. Technically, he's right, but it wouldn't be a bad thing if he did. "Right," Joey agrees. "You don't. It's just hat being the one that you are dating, it'd be nice to know if there was a particular reason you worte a poem about a guy ... a poem that has some degree of importance in your life, considering it did make you cry in a room full of people."
Jack sighs, trying to formulate a reasonable explanation in his mind. "Look," he sighs. "I sat down last night before I went to bed and I wrote what came to mind ... and one of the images that came into my mind was masculine. But there's nothing sexual about it, it could have been me (well THAT'S pretty egotistical then, describing yourself as "the image of perfection"?!), it could have been my brother, I don't know. But what I do know is there is nothing gay about that poem ... And as for the crying ... it hit a weird nerve when I started reading it. It unleashed some stuff I've been dealing with, with my family, my brother's death ... See, it's the only explanation that I have, and if it's not good enough for you, then you can just believe what everyone else is saying."
Joey seems satisfied enough with his explanation, and tells him she doesn't believe what everyone else says. "I hope not," Jack answers. "Cause I adore you, Joey. And I assure you, if I were gonna write a love poem, it'd be about you, and nobody else." (ohhhh! I actually thought Jack was sweet here! I mean, what an adorable thing to say to someone! Come on, all you Jack-haters, you gotta give credit where credit is due!)
Meanwhile, Ty is pulling his best Frank Sinatra, and has taken Jen to a jazz club. (rolling eyes ... what is with the whole blues/jazz club thing on TV shows lately? It's like Melrose Place lite!) "If I'd known we were gonna go to a club, I would have brought my fake ID," Jen muses. Inside, Ty apparenly is Da Man, and can get personal requests from the headline act ("something romantic") as well as martinis with the mere wave of his hand. (What he did to deserve all this, I wonder? Hook up with the club's manager on a past religious retreat or something?)
"Isn't this a little bit against the rules?" Jen asks him. "Whose rules?" Ty shrugs. It doesn't take Jen long to surmise that drinking and the whole swinger lifestyle isn't exactly Sunday School clean, but as Ty the hypocrite tells her, "We're not in Sunday School right now." (why does something about this guy just not sit right with me??) Jen has nothing to say to that, and the pair dance to some cheesy, badly-sung blues tune, Jen looking like something straight out of 1977. (sorry, Chris, but she did!)
The next day at school, Pacye and Andie are walking down the corridor, when much to their (and my) disgust, some ignoramus has decided to plaster the hall walls with photocopies of Jack's now-infamous poem. "Tonight, on a very special episode of Capeside High ..." Pacey mimics, intimating that they're all characters on an after-school special. (which, of course ... they are! Another in-joke from the writers!) He rips down the poems in disgust. "Can you believe this?" he demands. "Ridiculous!" "Why would they do this?" Andie asks, near tears.
At Ground Zero of this little nuclear meltdown, a.k.a. Peterson's English class, poor Jack (yes, I actually did say that ... I still think he's a couple cans short of a six-pack, but that doesn't mean I don't have sympathy for the guy) is being forced to revisit the previous day's A-bomb explosion. "Mr McPhee," Peterson states in that superior tone that certain teachers do so well, "Would you care to continue reading your now very public work of poetry to the class?"
It isn't a question, it's an order, but Jack is floored by it, nonetheless. "You can't be serious ..." he says, wide-eyed. "I am," replies Peterson, in a voice as arrogant as Jack's is petrified. "You left us high and dry," Peterson explains. "If you want a completed grade, you have to complete reading the poem, it's that simple." "Why are you doing this to me?" Jack asks, almost near tears himself.
"Because he can," Pacey states, in icy tones. (and borrowing a quote from one of my fave films, Heathers ... but nevermind that) "Mr. Witter, I recommend you sit down," Peterson orders, but of course, Pacey will do no such thing. "You want somebody to read the poem? Fine, I'll read it." He snatches it out of Peterson's hand and begins reading quickly, his voice devoid of emotion, perhaps to suggest that the subject matter isn't that big of a deal, and that people shouldn't make such a commotion out of it all.
"Stop this instant!" Peterson booms, but Pacey ignores him and keeps reading. "I said stop!" Peterson shouts. "You will listen to me when I talk, young man!" Pacey stops reading for a minute to answer him. "Why should I?" This last comment enrages Peterson so much that he writes Pacey a pass to go straight to the principal's office immediately.
Pacey is unfazed by the situation. "What part of you is it that gets off on torturing your students?" he demands. "Everyone else in this class may be afraid of you, but I'm not. I recognize your miserable scare tactics for what they are -- the misguided lashings of a bitter, lonely old man who only feels good when someone else in the class feels worse!"
Needless to say, this vexes Peterson even further. "Thank you for the analysis, Mr. Witter," he states icily. "I'll be sure to send along a cheque with the F you will be getting on your report card." "You can't fail me!" Pacey shouts. "I've gotten a B or better in every test in this class!" "I've been waiting to fail you all quarter!" Peterson roars back.
"You disgust me," Pacey says with thinly-veiled fury. "You, Mr. Witter, are a failure, and are destined to always be a failure," Peterson admonishes. (Gee, you'd hate to be a fly on the wall for parent-teacher night with him and Pacey's dad, huh?) "Trying to teach you is like spitting in the face of the entire educational system!"
Pacey is so completely wound-up by this point that all rational thought processes have left his head. Acting purely on impulse and perhaps inspired by Peterson's latest taunt, Pacey lives out his teacher's simile and does just that -- he gobs directly into Peterson's snowy-white beard and neon-purple face. "No sir," Pacey states calmly, "that is spitting in the face of the educational system." Without a backwards glance, he packs up his things and exits, leaving a suitably apoplectic Peterson and mortified Jack behind.
Fast forward to the principal's office, a few hours later. "I won't apologize," Pacey announces to the principal, Mr. Milos the counsellor and of course, Peterson. "Yes you will," the principal insists. "No, I won't" Pacey insists right back.
"What'd I tell you, the child is an insubordinate little waste," Peterson says in utter disgust. Mr. Milos comes to Pacey's defense though, telling Peterson he's hardly innocent either -- he made a student cry, and another student had an excessive reaction. "You call a student spitting in a teacher's face an excessive reaction?" Peterson screams. "I'd call that the understatement of the year!"
Exasperated and sensing there will be no progress made in the immediate future, the principal suggests they reconvene the following day. "Mr. Witter, hopefully by that time, you will be capable of conjuring up an apology, otherwise I will have no choice but to put you on suspension." Pacey hears her, but he doesn't listen, he just sits there, stone-faced.
Right outside the principal's office, Pacey bumps into Jack. "You didn't have to come down here," Pacey starts. "I mean, I appreciate it, but --" "I didn't," Jack interrupts. "Milos wants to talk to me ... I can only imagine what about." Pacey tells Jack that Milos and Co. want Pacey to apologize, but he told them to go screw themselves. "That was stupid," Jack mutters. "Whose side are you on?" Pacey asks, a little hurt. "My own," Jack responds bluntly. "I can handle my own battles, I didn't need you to make a spectacle out of this whole thing --"
"Stop right there." Now it's Pacey's turn to interrupt. "I thought I was helping you out. I didn't need a hero. I realize it's an addiction of yours, but this is one instance where you should have kept your nose out of it." Poor Pacey can't win either way, it seems.
Outside the school, Ty presents Jen with a Valentine's Day cupcake. ("They weren't selling roses," he explains.) "So ... full report!" Ty grins. "Was I not fun last night?" Jen laughs. "What's so funny?" Ty wants to know. "You ... this alternate identity thing," she replies. "Ohhh, you mean, student by day, rat packer by night?" he teases. "Some people would call it the height of hypocrisy," Jen offers, but Ty doesn't think it's hypocritical at all. "It gives me something to go to church about on Sunday," he notes, adding that his religion doesn't assume he's a perfect individual, in fact, it expects that he's not.
"I see," Jen nods. "So it's a party-now-confess-later sort of thing?" Ty nods, grins and asks if she wants to do it again. "Come on, your Grams likes me!" he adds. (as if that's supposed to sweeten the deal) "My Grams likes what she knows about you ... which apparently isn't all that much," Jen muses. "And you plan on keeping it that way?" Ty suggests. "It's a thought," she replies coolly.
Andie, Dawson and Pacey roam the hallways of Capeside High, discussing Pacey's little indiscretion. "So what're you going to do?" Andie asks desparately. "What, you mean about Peterson?" Pacey questions. "You're gonna apologize, right?" she urges. "No, I'm taking the suspension," he announces decisively.
Andie is devastated by his decision. "What? Why are you going to do that?" Pacey explains that he's not going to aplogize to Peterson because after what that man did, he doesn't deserve it. "It doesn't matter what he did, Pacey, you spat in his face!"
Exasperated that his girlfriend isn't offering any support, Pacey turns to Dawson, but but fails to find what he's looking for there, either. "All I'm saying is, this is serious," Dawson begins. (He and Andie sound like surrogate parents!) "Just make sure you're aware of the consequences." Pacey replies he is.
Meanwhile, Jack is getting a little too much support, from all the wrongplaces. He tells Joey that Mr. Milos has bombarded him with pamphlets that conveniently happened to surface on Milos' desk when Jack went in to talk to him. "Gay and Okay ... What's Your Sexuality? ... Am I Gay? ..." he recounts, groaning. "Have you ever felt like you were trapped in one of those Lifetime movies?" Jack asks. (considering this is a TV show, it's an ironic question to ask) Joey tries to break the mounting tension by suggesting the pamphlets sound like a bad game show.
Back to Andie, Pacey and Dawson, who are still strolling along the corridors, debating the situation at hand. "What about your GPA?" Andie explodes. "You care about that don't you? You're not gonna survive a suspension, Pacey! It'll destroy all your hard work and you'll be right back at square one!"
Pacey takes this to mean that Andie thinks he'll return to being an academic loser, but Andie insists that isn't what she meant. "But it's what you feel," he replies. "And everything I've worked for, what you've helped me to become ... someone who believes in his instincts ... every one of them tells me what that man did was wrong." Andie's about to carry on the debate, but stops short, her face pale as she stares at something in the distance.
Jack, at the opposite end of the hall, is in the process of telling Joey how hard the whole incident has been for him, and how he's really going to need her help with the situation, because he has a feeling "it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better."
But even Jack probably didn't realize not only just how true that statement is, but how soon it was going to come true ... as in, instantaneously. Someone has taken it upon him or herself to spray paint the word "FAG" on Jack's locker in bright red. There's no ignoring it, as Jack, Joey, the rest of the gang and most of Capeside High's student body population, can see.
In front of tens of onlookers (the same kind of people who will grow up to be the type of drivers who insist on gawking at car crashes, no doubt), Jack goes over to his locker quietly and slowly. Tears are in his eyes as he fumbles with his combination lock; he's barely able to hold it all together.
Joey is holding back, her face running the gamut from fear to shame to disgust to rage. Suddenly she breaks, and briskly walks the few feet over to Jack, who is trying his hardest to ignore the pointed whispers and comments from the assembled crowd. "Kiss me!" she demands. "Why?" Jack asks, very taken aback and confused. "Just 'cause," she mutters and starts a very intense make-out session in front of one and all, amid cries of "Ewwww!" and "What's she doing?" (but none of "Get a room!" surprisingly enough ... huh) and blank looks from Pacey, Andie and Dawson.
Later on, at the McPhee residence, Jack and Andie are silently doing dishes, when Andie thanks her brother for helping her clean up. "Ah, dialogue," Jack notes with a small smile. "That would mean you are talking to me again, correct?" Andie admits she's been really unfair the past few days. "S'okay," Jack says gently, his smile broadening the tiniest bit. "I knew you'd come around."
"Do you have to be so immensely forgiving?" Andie teases. "Don't you have an ounce of meanness in anywhere in your body? It would make our sibling rivalries more interesting!" Jack replies he doesn't need to be more interesting (yeah, I guess not, huh!) and besides, he wins them (the rivalries) as it is. Andie laughs again, and remarks that the past few days have been really hard. "For both of us," Jack comments dryly. "Yes, but you're better suited for this sort of thing," she replies. "No one's suited for public ridicule, Andie," he admonishes quietly. "You just have to deal with it."
Andie tells Jack when she first heard what happened to him in class, her initial reaction was resentment. "Of all the possibilites, I didn't even feel sorry for you," she says softly. "I just thought, 'oh great, thanks, just when things seemed to be slowing down in my life, now I have to deal with this.' And as much as I love you Jack, everything that happened to us in our lives has just made me so ... afraid. I thought if anybody could understand that, it'd be you, I mean, you're so strong ..."
Her voice trails off as she tries to recapture her thoughts. "... And then I read your poem -- I kept one I tore down -- and ... it's a really beautiful poem, Jack. And I don't know if it means you're gay or not, and I really don't care. But I do know the person who wrote this poem ... he's just as scared as I am. Jack, you're terrified, and I'm your sister and I had no idea. And I just want you to know I'm here for you, and I love you, and you're not alone."
Clearly, Jack needed to hear this. I mean, he's got support from Joey and all, but nothing beats that familial connection and strength when you need it the most, and Lord only knows the other members of the McPhee clan are either too emotionally unstable, too emotionally vacant or just plain dead to help out very much. Jack thanks his sister and they embrace.
Jack isn't the only one who needs support, though. Joey alternately sprints, jogs and walks, without passing GO! or collecting $200 (sorry ... Monopoly reference ... I love that game ...), straight to none other than Dawson's house. Or bedroom window, I should say. The matter is so grave and pressing that she forgos entering through the door and reverts back to her old habit. Granted, it isn't the most ideal situation to rekindle past behaviours under, but it'll do for now.
"Can I come in?" Her entrance startles Dawson, who is busy putting the finishing touches on Jack's Capeside town model. Joey apologizes for surprising him. "It's just, I've had a highly irregular few days, and climbing that ladder is the surest form of normalcy I know." She smiles at him wearily, and adds an apology for her behaviour the day before at the Ice House. "It's okay. I understand," Dawson smiles back, and for a nanosecond, that unspoken bond and very deep ... connection between them is as obvious as the spray paint on Jack's locker.
Joey breaks it though (it hit a subconscious nerve, perhaps?) and remarks how amazing Jack's miniature model is. "It's incredible, isn't it?" Dawson agrees. "Jack built it just for the film." At the mention of her former boyfriend mentioning her present boyfriend's name, Joey bristles and sighs. "Okay. Um ... Dawson? I need your advice. And I know because of the situation it may be hard for you to dispense it ... but I really need it."
"Anything," Dawson says solemnly. "Talk to me." Flopping back on Dawson's bed, Joey confesses she thinks maybe he was right about the poem. "That Jack meant to write it?" Dawson asks. She replies that Jack said he didn't, and he had a thousand reasonable excuses why he did that all make sense "... except, they don't," Joey sighs. She remarks she wishes she'd done what Dawson told her and asked Jack if he was gay outright. (Isn't it ironic that the minute Dawson seems to accept Joey and Jack's relationship, it instantly self-destructs?)
Dawson asks why she doesn't just do that, but she glumly tells him if she does, then Jack will know she's considered it, and it will always be out there, because she can't take it back once she's said it. "The elephant in the room syndrome," Dawson nods sagely. "The obvious but unspoken topic, which is lurking, but never brought up ... of course, in your case, it's a gay elephant," he jokes.
Joey replies it isn't funny, but immediately bursts into laughter anyway. "I'm sorry," Dawson giggles, "I had to say that. (it was cute, and a very "real," refreshing moment of levity in a very serious episode!) But Jo, you have to ask him. If there's one thing I've learned about relationships in the past year, it's that they begin and end with honesty. If you want to save what you have with Jack, and you think it's worth saving, you have to be honest. So go ... go hunt an elephant," he smiles.
Getting up to leave, Joey takes in his words. "You're right," she nods, almost out the window, then impulsively turns back to him. "Thank you," she nods and kisses him on the cheek. It's obvious by the startled and joyous look on his face that Joey's small token of affection has made his role as Dear Abby totally worthwhile.
Next, Dawson switches gears from morally supporting Joey in her situation with Jack to morally supporting Pacey in his situation with Peterson. Pacey and Dawson are sitting outside Principal Markey's office like an inmate on death row and his lawyer waiting for the call to walk to the electric chair (or a last-minute stay of execution, take your pick, but with Peterson involved, the latter is highly unlikely).
Peterson sees the duo and casts them a contemptuous look before entering the chamber -- I mean, office. :) "Look at that guy," Pacey laments. "Tell me that isn't somebody who doesn't have it out for me!" Dawson responds if Peterson didn't before, he sure does now. "Maybe I should just apologize," Pacey concedes miserably. "You don't think what I did was right, do you?" he asks his best friend.
"I can't judge, I wasn't there," Dawson the fence-sitter answers. "But you wouldn't have done it yourself," Pacey states. Dawson admits he wouldn't have. "And I go in there and can't ... would you be ashamed of me?" Pacey asks. "In my lifetime, Pacey, I will never be ashamed of you," Dawson says. Just then, Mr. Milos comes out and announces the group is ready for Pacey. (Attention! Dead man walking!)
Inside the office, Principal Markey addresses Pacey, asking if he has had ample time to put into proper perspective the events of yesterday morning. He replies he has. "Then the ball's in your court," she states. "We're all ears."
Pacey starts by saying he is more ashamed of what he did in class the previous morning than anything he's ever done in his entire life. "I have no case here, and I'm sorry. For the event. But not now, nor will I ever be apologetic for it's intention." Mr. Milos, Ms. Markey and Peterson are wide-eyed at his announcement, but he isn't finished yet.
"Every day, we the students of Capeside High come to a place where you guys are in charge. You tell us when to arrive, to leave, to move rooms and to eat. You tell us when we do well and when we can be doing better, and we never ever question it -- because we're afraid to. Because to do so, is to go against the belief tht the entire system is built upon. The belief that you guys know what is right," he begins.
"But I am not afraid to tell yo uthat what happened in that classroom yesterday was not right. To make a student cry, to embarrass him and strip him of his dignity in front of his classmates is not right, and while I respect the system, I do not respect men like you, Mr. Peterson, I don't. I won't. I can't, and I never will. Not after what you did," Pacey concludes, wishing them a good afternoon and walking out. (Go, Pace!!)
Later that evening, Mr. Students' Rights Activist himself is sitting on the Capeside dock, cooling his jets and thinking about the events of the past few days. Andie approaches him gingerly and asks how it went. "As well as could be imagined," he replies. "They responded me for a week." Pacey then asks why she bothered coming down to the docks in the first place.
"Because I care about you," Andie answers. "Do you?" he demands. "What kind of question is that?" she wants to know. "A reasonable one," Pacey replies. "Do you have any idea what I went through today? How much I needed your support?" Andie replies she can't support everything he does, but that isn't what Pacey is after. "I don't want you to agree with everything, but what I am asking is to know that some way, some how, you are there for me!" he shouts.
"How dare you!" she shouts back indignantly. "I challenge one action of yours and you throw it in my face like some sort of weakness?" Pacey answers that it isn't just him, she wasn't there for Jack, either. "Oh yes I was!" she yells, eyes flashing with anger. "I apologized to him, and I came here to apologize to you, but I was struggling with it for some reason all the way down here, and now the reason became clear! Jack was innocent, he had no control over it, but you ... you knew what was happening in that classroom!"
"What would you have me do?" Pacey explodes. "Stand there and let Peterson do that to him?" Andie believes there were better ways of handling it, but Pacey will have none of that, because he believes it was all his fault. "Peterson knew he couldn't get the best of me, so he went after your brother! If I hadn't instigated him, none of this would have happened, that's why I had to stop him whatever way I could ..." he trails off, anger spent from his system.
Andie wants to know why Pacey didn't tell her he felt responsible. "Because, Andie, you didn't want to hear about it. You wanted me to clean up the mess, and there are some messes you just have to live with," he tells her, a touch bitterly. He gets up to leave, and when she offers to go with him, Pacey responds with a very curt "Not tonight."
Capeside's other new couple are also having trouble this evening, although not as blatant and passionate as Andie and Pacey (which in some ways, is worse). Joey approaches Jack, gently asking where he's been. He replies he's been at the Ice House, working a double shift. But enough of the chit-chat, Joey has a burning question she wants to ask, and it can't wait a moment longer.
"Are you gay?" she blurts out. "'Scuse me?" Jack blinks. "Are you gay?" Joey repeats, a touch softer this time and lapsing into Andie hyper-babble mode. "I mean, you don't have to answer it right away, I just had to ask because it's been building up in me, and there's no easy way for a girl to ask her boyfriend if he's gay than to just ask him and I know you already told me the poem wasn't about a guy, but I feel like when we discussed it I neer really asked you the one important question that you --"
"No. No. I'm not gay," Jack interrupts her verbal vomit with the words she's been longing to hear. "Okay," Joey sighs. "You don't know what a relief that is. I mean, not that I care, I would have dealt with it fine, I promise ... but it's just who wants to deal with the obvious and not so obvious issues of a girl who's dating a guy who turns out to be gay? It's just so hard, and I --"
This time her spew speech is interrupted by a passionate kiss from Jack, and another and another. When they come up for air, he asks if Joey feels better now. "You don't even know," she exhales with a smile. "But could you do me a favour? No more poems, just for a little while."
"You got it," Jack smiles back. "No more poems." They kiss again and again, and finish off with a tight hug. "I'm not gay, Joey," Jack whispers hoarsely. "Okay?" (yes, but whom are you trying to convince here, Jack? Her, or yourself?)
"Yeah," Joey says softly and hugs him to her tightly, her eyes closed in relief, while over her shoulder, Jack's face resembles a stormcloud as he struggles to articulate what he's feeling inside and say something, anything. He decides against it and merely stares off into the distance looking tortured, as Hootie and the Blowfish's "Only Lonely on the Inside" plays quietly (not a fave song of mine, but very fitting in this case) in the background.
Fade to black ...