"Well?" Dawson probes. "Well," Joey sighs. "I don't think I can find the words." Dawson takes this as a bad sign, and babbles to her that she should keep in mind that it's a rough cut and everything, but that he wants her to just tell him and be honest. "In my entire life I have never been this unequivocally moved by words and moving images onscreen," Joey murmurs. "I mean, this is the type of moviegoing experience that not only enlightens and inspires, but it could change the way people look at their lives ... their world ... their universe!"
Dawson is suitably relieved. "God, Joey, you have no idea how much that means, especially coming from you." She smiles. "No, there's no doubt about it. Jack McPhee will be one of the great filmmakers of our generation. I mean, think about it, Dawson. We knew him when!" Now, Dawson is suitably confused. "Wait a minute, Joey. I directed this movie." She ignores him, counting off the world's greatest directors on her fingers. "Spielberg ... Scorcese ... Fellini ... Bergman ... McPhee!"
He's thoroughly perplexed at this point. "Joey, what are you talking about?" Dawson hoots. "You were there! I directed it! Look!" He ejects a cassette out of the VCR and reads it to her. Creek Daze, a film by ..." Dawson looks up in utter astonishment. "... Jack McPhee?!"
Right on cue, Mr. McPhee himself climbs through the bedroom window. "Honey, there's only one word to describe you -- brilliant!" Joey beams at him. Jack chuckles modestly as Joey corrects herself. "No, genius!" Jack grins. "Honey, you will not believe what happened. I ran into Steven Spielberg in the cafeteria -- he offered me a job! I'm going to Hollywood!"
Joey and Jack kiss enthusiastically, while Dawson watches, stunned. As they break apart, Jack goes down on one knee and gazes adoringly up at Joey. "Will you marry me?" Dawson looks at Joey, mute with shock. "Yes!" she announces triumphantly. "Wh-wh-what?" Dawson shouts, totally apoplectic. "You're gay!" "I guess not," Jack grins evilly, and pulls Joey into another passionate kiss.
"Let's go," Joey says when they finish, and turns to Dawson. "We'll, uh, send you a postcard from Tinseltown." "Joey!" he shouts. "What about us?" As she is about to climb out the window after Jack, she tosses a breezy "It's showbiz, Dawson," at him over her shoulder. "Joey! Joey!" Dawson shouts after her. She stops, and faces him again. "Get over it, Dawson. You're not my type. You never were." Giving him a "thems-the-breaks" smile, she disappears out of the window and, presumably, out of his life.
"NOOOOOOOO!" shouts Dawson, waking up suddenly from what has turned out to be the most surreal of nightmares. (Yeah, it's a cop-out, I mean the classic "dream sequence" has been done to death, but I think the writers were trying to set an eerie, sort-of otherworldly tone for the episode -- after all, it is called Psychic Friends, right?)
Two of those friends, Dawson and Jen, can be found in film class later that day, listening to their new teacher divulge her theory of movie-making. "Great filmmakers have always asked questions, taken risks. They're not afraid to make the audience think ... feel ... even if it makes them squirm in their seats a little. The truth has that effect on us. So, how does this movie make you feel?" She looks around for a volunteer. "Jen?"
"I think that Capra is a little too saccharine, you know?" Jen offers. "I think his characters are too unrealistic, like 'Gee, whiz, isn't life great?'" (Good point, but here's a better one -- since when is Jen in Dawson's film class? I mean, yeah, she helped him with his movie and all, but I don't recall her actually being a classmate?)
Dawson, ever the defender of wholesome, idealistic notions, disagrees. "I think that's a misconception, though. I think Capra's films are actually pretty dark. I mean, in Meet John Doe, Gary Cooper character is a participant in the plight of the common man." "Good, Dawson," the teacher nods. "What else does his character represent?"
"Optimism," he says. "I mean, the hero wasn't innocent, which leads you to believe that the future has hope so the antagonist is cynicism." "I agree," the teacher nods again. "Good films are complex and ambiguous. They're full of darkness as well as light. I think this film is about how things could be." "Or should be," Dawson adds.
Just then, the bell rings, and Dawson and Jen leave the class. "I was sorry to see Mr. Gold leave," Dawson begins, "But Ms. Kennedy is, like ..." "... Every 16-year-old male's wet dream?" Jen finishes for him, with a gleam in her eye. Her critical assessment of their teacher goes straight over his head.
"No," Dawson begins again, but Jen cuts him short. "Mmm-hmm," she says doubtfully. Again, he ignores her teasing and earnestly tells Jen it's more like a kind of hero-worship. "I mean, she's the real deal. The reason she's here is she's taking a sabbatical to write a major screenplay for TriStar." (which happens to be part of Columbia/TriStar which owns part and parcel of Dawson's Creek. So now you know!)
"Great," Jen smiles. "Now you've got somebody around whose opinion actually carries some weight, huh?" "Yeah," he agrees. Jen asks if Dawson has shown Ms. Kennedy his film yet. "No," he responds quickly. "Dawson!" Jen chides him gently. "I'm afraid she'll think it's amateur hour," he admits.
Just then, Dawson's father approaches them. (He magically got a job as a substitute English teacher at the school, in case anyone forgot.) "Show it to her," Jen insists. "It's ready." "Hey," Dawson's father says, and gets a similar response from Jen, who leaves shortly thereafter. "Hi Dawson," Mitch tries again. "Mr. Leery," Dawson nods curtly at him. "Come on," Mitch replies, a little bit hurt. "You can call me Dad."
Dawson drags him into an empty classroom. "It's awkward enough to have you as my English teacher, but if people hear me call you Dad, I'm going to get beat up after school." "Come on," Mitch laughs. "It's not that bad." "It's great that you've got a job that you enjoy, but when we're in school, just pretend like you don't know me," Dawson tells him through a yawn.
"Not sleeping?" Mitch asks. "No," Dawson answers. "I'm having nightmares. It's like I'm stuck alone in a dark theatre, watching my life go by on the screen and all the coming attractions are box-office bombs." "What's happened to my son the eternal optimist?" Mr. Leery queries.
"People move on." Dawson shrugs. "The only person you can really rely on is yourself. It's ..." he sighs. "I've spent the last few weeks trying to change things that I have absolutely no control over. And the one thing I know for certain is that I want to be a filmmaker, and that's all that matters to me. So no matter what, I have to make that happen." Upset and not wanting to get into a confrontation with his after about the various things he cannot control in his live (read: his parents), Dawson leaves.
Meanwhile, in the caf, Joey and Jack are sitting at a table, watching the crowds go by. "Loser ... pervert ... serial killer ... airhead ... okay, Jack, it's your turn to rate the guys in the lunch line." She smiles at him. "Joey," he replies. "I appreciate your attempt to bond with me and my new ... identity, but I'm not going to check out guys with you." "Why not?" she teases. "There's nothing sexual about it. It's a purely superficial, idiotic, ridiculous, fun way to spend the lunch hour." He looks at her like she's crash landed from another planet. "Are you okay?"
"I'm bored," Joey sighs. "With this school ... with work ... with this town ... also, with myself. I mean, this is the most amusement I've had in weeks." Jack laughs, as she continues her lunchtime inventory of the school's male population. "Conceited ... too pretty ... ooooh, definitely a Frank ... as in Stein ... ooooh, Leo, as in DiCaprio," she smiles. (ewwwwwww! He's a pretty boy! He looks like a little GIRL!!! I mean, he has the sex appeal of cotton candy, he's all pink and fluffy and saccharine ... yecch.)
Jack laughs again. "How completely bizarre is this? The other week we were dating and now ..." "I know," she nods. "It's a little strange. Does it bother you?" He thinks a moment. "Actually um ... no. You?" "No," she smiles sincerely. "It doesn't bother me."
Pacey and Andie, it would seem, have decided to cut school for afternoon and are in the midst of a very important discussion down by the pier. "Why not?" Andie needles. "Because," Pacey replies. "Last year a bunch of punk kids threw water balloons at me, and then a bunch of jocks knocked the booth over. And being coerced under the threat of death to run the safety booth for the Capeside Police Department is not exactly my idea of a rockin' good time."
"I looked up to our safety mascot when I was a kid," Andie states. Pacey snickers. "And you wonder why they called you Andie McGeek on the playground?" "Okay, you were not supposed to repeat that," she says, pretending to be miffed. He laughs. "Listen, a stuffed animal named Skippy The Safety Dog is not going to deter kids from doing drugs."
"No," Andie insists, "Captain Skippy sends out a positive message. It's completely worthwhile." "This is a democracy," Pacey insists right back. "If a two-year-old child doesn't want to sit in a safety seat, he shouldn't have to!" "Pacey!" "Okay, that's a bad example," he admits sheepishly. "But you know what I mean."
Andie tries a different approach. "Look, there's supposed to be a fortune teller at the fair, and I really want to know my fortune." But this approach doesn't work either. "Andie, what is it with you and all this mumbo-jumbo crystal crap?" Pacey says in disgust. "It's a scam, all right?"
She tries a last resort. "Okay ... if you do the Captain Skippy booth, then we can --" Andie whispers something into Pacey's ear which causes him to break into a broad grin. "Hello boys and girls," Pacey says in a deep, gruff voice with a slight French accent. "This is your old friend Captain Skippy here."
Cut to the fair, where Jack is adjusting some pictures at the art exhibit he and Joey have set up. "So, tell me, Miss Potter," Jack says in his best reporter's voice, "Are these still life collections from your earlier works?" Joey's oblivious to his question. "Hmm? Joey?" he prompts. This brings her back to earth, but she's not quite sure what he was saying. Jack laughs. "Where were you?" "None of your business," she says matter-of-factly. "Oh, okay," he grins. "Lost in X-rated thoughts?" "No ..." Joey says. "Come on, tell me," he urges. "Okay," she grins, "but promise you won't laugh?" Jack crosses his heart.
"I was thinking about kisses," she announces, after which Jack promptly starts laughing. "Forget it!" she chides. "No, no, I'm sorry," he replies. "It just sounds funny coming from a girl who decided to throw away relationships in pursuit of her true self." "I know," she sighs. "I mean, sometimes I'm sorry I ever said that. I mean, I'm being honest with you here to the point of utter humiliation ... I miss the kissing part. And I'd like to think that I'll get kissed again before the millenium comes and goes," she finishes miserably.
"It'll happen," Jack says confidently. "What'll happen?" asks Dawson, who has joined the pair just in time to hear Jack's last couple of words. "Nothing," Jack smiles tightly. "Okay ..." Dawson says, miffed. "Well, I guess I'll see you guys later." He starts to leave, but Jack asks him to stick around and help them set up their exhibit. "Nah," Dawson shakes his head. "I'm helping out Ms. Kennedy with the sound and film exhibit, so ..." He smiles apologetically and walks away.
Jack watches him leave. "Frank? Leo?" he asks Joey with a grin. "Dawson's definitely a Leo," Joey decides. Jack comments that Mr. Leo DiLeery (Dawson DiCaprio?) seems a little moody lately. "I know," Joey sighs. "I can always tell when there's something wrong with him, but he just doesn't seem to want my help right now. I can't get our friendship back on track and I miss him, you know?"
"Give it time. I'm sure he'll want you back in his life, trust me," Jack suggests. "In the meantime, why don't we find out when that elusive next kiss is going to find its way to your lips?" Joey wrinkles her nose in confusion. "What?" Jack points to a tent across the way, which has a sign outside that reads Madame Zenovich (the fortune teller).
Pacey's at the fair too, trying hard to get into Skippy the Safety Dog mode. He plops the Skippy puppet on his hand, like a ventriloquist's dummy, and turns to Andie, talking in character. "And remember, kids, if you have sex, protect yourself ... do it where you can't get caught, you know?"
Andie is not impressed. "Uh huh ... mmm-kay. Come on, why don't you come get your fortune told?" "Because I don't want to go in there, have that woman take one look at me, and predict Armageddon, death, and destruction on a global level. The end of the world as we know it." Andie smiles dryly at him. "I thought you didn't believe in them?" "I don't," Pacey replies. "I just think the power of suggestion is a very dangerous thing." But she's a persistent one, that McPhee. "Don't you think if you knew what was coming up, if you knew what to expect, then you could at least be prepared for it?"
Pacey chortles. "I think that you should save your money, Blondie. The all-powerful Pacedini will predict your future. I see a tall, dark, handsome man who is occasionally brilliant and often self-effacing coming into your life and sweeping you off your feet." "Well, good," Andie teases. "Then I have something to look forward to." "Funny. Very funny," he mutters. "Have I told you how funny you are?"
Speaking of predicting people's futures, over in Madame Zenovich's tent, Joey is earnestly waiting for the cleric to tell her what lies ahead. But before they get started, there's the little matter of cost to be taken care of. "Five dollars," Madame Zenovich deadpans, blowing a cloud of smoke in Jack's face. He coughs as Joey pays the fortune teller.
(And while we're on the subject of the supernatural -- this whole clairvoyant thing is yet another reason I think some poltergeist or demon has possessed Joey ... last season, our cynical, sarcastic little darling would have never allowed herself to be dragged anywhere within 100 kilometres of a psychic, let alone judged a male's "hotness" by the yardstick of Leonardo di-freaking-Caprio. Bring back The Old Joey!)
"I see a C," Madame Zenovich barks. Do you know a Carrie?" Joey shakes her head no. "Clare? ... Connie? ... Corey? ... Casey? ... Caroline?" Madame Zenovich is getting desperate. "I know a Carroll," Joey offers helpfully, "but I haven't seen her since kindergarten." Madame Z pounces on this little snippet. "Yes, Carroll ... she's telling me that she borrowed something of yours. Does that mean anything to you?" "I don't know," Joey replies, thinking. "She might have borrowed a pencil or something ..." "Yes," the fortune teller crows triumphantly. "She has your pencil."
Joey is not impressed with Madame Zenovich's peek into her past. (I guess she went to the same clairvoyancy school as Dionne Warwick's psychic friends) But then, the fortune teller redeems herself. A wind blows through the tent and rattles some wind chimes, as Madame Z consults her crystal ball. "There has been much pain in your past ... too much loss for one so young ... you put up walls to protect you from harm but by doing so, you cut yourself off from new opportunities, new adventures ... you must say yes to every opportunity that comes your way."
"So what about my future?" Joey asks earnestly. "What do you want to know?" (Well geez, if she's a psychic, she should already know this, no?) "What's going to happen?" Joey asks again, still earnestly. "You'll come to a fork in the road," Madame Zenovich answers calmly. "You'll have to choose which path to take." (one of the two most classic predictable predictions, I reckon)
Joey asks how she will know which path to choose, and the fortune teller replies she will be safe as long as she follows her heart. "Anything else?" Joey asks. "A tall, dark man will come into your life," Madame Zenovich tells her. (and there's the other most predictable prediction) "When?" Joey wants to know. "Soon," the old woman answers mysteriously.
Dawson, who is certainly not the tall, dark man Madame Zenovich was referring to, is walking along the fairgrounds with a tall, dark woman -- Ms. Kennedy, his film teacher. "So when do I get to see this cinematic masterpiece of yours?" she asks bluntly, but with a smile.
"How did you know that I made a movie?" Dawson asks in surprise. Ms. Kennedy grins at him. "Your father brags about you in the faculty room." "Oh, God," he replies, but she continues, still grinning. "According to him, you're going to be one of the next great filmmakers of our time." Dawson is embarrassed and flustered. "Mitch ... tends to exaggerate," he answers awkwardly. "Really?" Ms. Kennedy teases. "You mean because he's already rented a tux for the Oscars?" Dawson flushes pink. "Oh, shoot me now, please."
"Well, if you're not going to show it to me, at least tell me what it's about," his teacher asks. "It's a romance," Dawson tells her, still a little embarrassed. "Really?" she asks. "Something else we have in common. I'm writing a romantic comedy for Columbia."
"I know, I heard," Dawson looks at her with stars in his eyes and starts to babble. "I know I'm going to sound like a naive film geek when I say this, but your being here has really given me a lot of hope. I mean, you grew up in a small town like this and being a filmmaker has always been, like, this impossible dream that ... it's just the fact that you're here ... that really kind-of inspired me. I don't know ... I just wanted to say that."
Ms. Kennedy looks at him curiously. "Do I make you nervous?" "No," Dawson replies. "It's just ... I guess I'm a little intimidated by you." She nods. "Sometimes people mistake my ambition for arrogance. It's just that when I first started out in the business, I had to do it on my own. I guess it just kind of toughens the exterior." "Yeah," Dawson nods. She smiles at him. "I should have guessed your film was a love story." He asks her why, and she replies that he has "quite the romantic spirit" in him.
Joey and Joey are finished with the charlatan clairvoyant, and are walking back towards their exhibit. "Five bucks to tell me a tall, dark stranger was going to come into my life?" she laments. (ah good, a brief, shining glimpse of the Joey of old) "Hopefully he's a Leo, not a Frank, right?" Jack tries to look on the bright side. (Hmm, I wonder if Jack thinks Leonardo DiCaprio is a "Leo," too?)
"I can't believe I spent five of my hard -- and I mean hard -- earned cash to hear that ..." She trails off when she catches sight of a tall, dark man who is admiring her artwork. He looks over at her as she and Jack reach their exhibit. "Excuse me? Are these yours?" Jack looks over at Joey, who nods silently. "These are quite good," the stranger says appreciatively, introducing himself. "Colin Manchester." "Hi," Joey answers shyly, and an awkward pause settles in.
Colin looks slowly from Jack to Joey. "Well ... good work." He smiles and walks away as Jack gently smacks Joey's arm. "Let me get this straight," Jack frowns. "Your destiny walks up to you, introduces himself, and you send him packing? You can really turn on the ice queen comments when you want to."
"What?" Joey is indignant. "Jack, I'm not looking for a boyfriend, anyway. I'm looking for myself ... my future." "Well, maybe he's a sign," Jack suggest. "A sign to get that pre-millenium, no strings, no commitment kiss?" Joey looks at him incredulously as he continues. "Come on, at least use the guy as practice. I mean, take a chance. Have an adventure." "That's what the fortune teller said to do," Joey nods slowly. "To say yes to every opportunity that crosses my path." "And throw caution to the wind," Jack agrees happily. "Come on. Go talk to him."
Jen's at the fairground too, helping Grams set up an exhibit of home craft-type things like quilting and knitting. "I appreciate your help, Jen. I know that you must have better things to do," Grams smiles at her. Jen laughs. "The funny thing is, Grams, that I don't." Grams sighs. "Are you sure you can't work things out with that nice young man Ty?" "Nope, sorry," Jen replies. "Looks like we're both destined to see the future as single women, Grams."
As Jen folds a quilt, she notices an older man at a nearby booth who is staring at her grandmother intently. "Grams, Grams," Jen says excitedly. "Don't look now, but that guy over there at that booth is totally checking you out!" "Oh, don't be silly," Grams chides her. "Someone checking me out, the very idea!"
Jen is insistent, though. "No, I swear to God, he's coming over here right now!" And, at that exact moment, the older man does that exact thing -- he walks right up to Grams with a broad smile on his face. "Evelyn Ryan," he begins warmly. "It's me ... Whit Hubbley."
Grams is a little taken aback. "Lord in Heaven, I thought you were dead," she tells him. "Great pick-up line," Jen mutters under her breath. "Look at you," Whit smiles at Grams. "It must be ... 30 years." "Has it been that long?" Grams marvels. He nods and grins. "Look, why don't we have dinner together tonight and catch up on old times?" (Jeez! He moves faster than some guys a third of his age!"
"Oh, no!" Grams answers quickly. "Really, I-I-I couldn't, thank you, anyway." Whit looks a little sad. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where I'm at," he smiles and leaves. (Um, no, actually she doesn't know where he's at, she hasn't seen him in 30 years, remember? Unless he means the booth he's stationed at, but even that is only a temporary address. And if Capeside is such a small town, just where the hell has he been hiding himself for the past three decades??)
Jen shoots her grandmother a look. "What?" Grams asks. Jen sighs. "He's very sexy," Grams looks horrified at Jen's observation. "Grams! I saw the look in his eyes -- he was having impure thoughts about you," Jen teases. "Oh, will you stop it!" Grams pleads, all in a tizzy.
While Whit is trying to put the moves on Grams, Joey is gingerly trying to put the moves on Colin -- or at least, find him so he can put the moves on her. She looks at a bunch of photographs at another exhibit, where she just happens to run into him. As it turns out, it's his exhibit. In a parody of their earlier meeting, she tells him his work is really quite remarkable.
"Thank you," Colin smiles. "Joey. Joey Potter," she smiles back. He grins at her. "Can I buy you a cup of hot chocolate, Joey Potter?" "That would be lovely, thank you," she grins back, a bit cheekily. "Cool," he nods. "Let's go." They walk towards the refreshment stand, and Joey glances back over her shoulder and flashes a smile at Jack, who is watching the scene unfold like some kind of fairy godfather (um ... no pun intended).
Dawson and Ms. Kennedy are talking shop, while he peruses rolls of film. "This is incredible!" he gushes. "You've got Charlie Chaplin ... Buster Keaton ... Harry Langdon ... where'd you get these?" "I had them sent down from the Boston archives," Ms. Kennedy replies. "You really are a true film buff, aren't you?" "I'm obsessed, actually," he admits frankly. "No one's ever understood my tunnel vision. It used to bother me, but now I don't care. Nothing else matters."
She nods. "Yeah, I can relate. I'm pretty obsessive about my writing. I think it shows in my work, as I'm sure it does yours." Under the misguided notion that they've somehow just bonded, Dawson suddenly finds a backbone. "Um ... speaking of my work, I was wondering if you would --" "Watch your film," Ms. Kennedy answers coolly. "I thought you'd never ask."
Joey and Colin walk along, sipping their hot chocolates. "My mom was an artist," Joey tells him. "And one of my first memories of my life was her all covered in paint with this serene look on her face. But I just recently began taking lessons."
Colin nods and asks if she wants to sit down. When they are comfortably seated on a nearby bench, Colin turns to her, a little uncomfortably. "Look, please don't take this the wrong way, but are you even aware of how unbelievably beautiful you are?"
Typical Joey, instead of responding, she changes the subject quickly. "You know you're an incredible photographer, when did you start taking pictures?" "For as long as I can remember," Colin replies. "I've always been fascinated with faces, how differently they appear in certain light. And I made a discovery that there are a few faces that can execute a million different emotions at once -- that you can stare at for hours, like a work of art." He stares into her face, silently implying she herself is one of those people.
"So you're a freshman at the Art Institute?" Joey changes the subject again, but Colin changes it right back. "Joey, you have the most unbelievably sensuous lips," he murmurs. "Kind of like Carole Lombard's." Joey blushes, not quite knowing what to make of it all. "Look," he continues, "this may be way out of line, but ... do you think there's any way I could ... do you think it would be possible that I could ..."
"Yes?" Joey urges, practically puckering her lips. "... Photograph you?" Colin finishes hopefully. The disappointment on her face and in her voice is obvious. "Sure," she finishes flatly.
Jen is still helping Grams out over at the artsy-craftsy exhibit. She holds up a clothespin, the type you use to hang laundry from, which has a little bow on it. "What is this?" Jen wonders. "It's a decorative clothespin to seal open potato chip bags," Grams replies, in a tone which suggests Jen should have known that already, silly girl that she is! "Of course it is," Jen chuckles. She then spots Whit waking towards them with a rose in his hand. "Grams, he's coming over again and if he asks you to dinner, say yes."
"I won't take no for an answer," Whit says to Grams, having partially overheard Jen's last comment. "You wouldn't make an old man eat alone?" "Actually, I would," Grams mutters, but retracts her statement almost instantly. "All right, all right ... dinner." "Great," Whit beams. "I'll meet you here at 8 o'clock." He's so excited, he leaves without giving Grams her rose, but he suddenly remembers and returns to give her the flower.
After he leaves a second time, Grams turns around to Jen with a heavy heart and a heavier face. "Grams?" Jen asks, alarmed. "What? What's the matter?" Grams shakes her head without saying a word. Jen thinks she knows the problem. "If it makes you feel guilty about Gramps, then it shouldn't. I know he'd want you to go on with your life.
Grams sighs. "No, it's ..." "What? What is it?" Jen demands. Grams shakes her head and looks sad. "That part of my life is over. There are certain things that you have to say goodbye to. I mean, look at me. I graduated from high school with Whit Hubbley, and I look old enough to be his mother." Jen smiles at her. "You know, I think it's time to introduce you to some wonderful women I know." Grams looks at her suspiciously. "Who?" "Miss Clairol and Estee Lauder," Jen replies, grinning.
Meanwhile, Skippy the Safety Dog, er, Pacey, is dressed up like a bona-fide cop, with the hand puppet firmly in place. He addresses a crowd of mostly bored, restless children, using a voice that sounds like a cross between Oscar the Grouch and Pepe Le Pew. "Remember, kids, Captain Skippy says never talk to strangers, always fasten your safety belt, and memorize your address and phone number, okay?"
"Captain Skippy, you're a great big smelly jerk!" an obnoxious kid yells out. "I know you are, but what am I?" Pacey responds, still in character. "I know you are, but what am I?" the brat mimics. "I know you are, but what am I?" Pacey mimics right back in his own voice. The crowd of children stare at him, dumbstruck. He addresses them one last time before disappearing. "And now Captain Skippy take break now, bye-bye!"
Andie has followed Joey's lead and is at Madame Zenovich's, having her palm read. "So what do you see?" she asks the old con artist, er, cleric. Madame Zenovich looks up at her mournfully as a sudden gust of wind blows out a candle on the table.
Pacey's had enough of lecturing rugrats by this point, so he takes a short walk around the fairgrounds, when he spies Andie coming out of Madame Z's tent. "Hey, Andie, you won't believe it --" he begins, then notices the perturbed look on her face. "Hey, what's wrong?" "Nothing ... um, I'm fine," she replies hastily. "I'm just going to go for a walk." Before he can ask another question, she turns and leaves abruptly.
Joey, fresh from her disappointment with Colin, joins Jack at a nearby table. "What happened?" he asks eagerly. "He wants to take my picture for his photo collection," Joey answers flatly. "He's a freshman at the Art Institute." "Where?" Jack inquires. "Community Arts Building," Joey responds. "I guess there's some costumes and stuff backstage."
Jack nods thoughtfully. "What do you know about this guy?" "Nothing," Joey shrugs. "And I don't want to know about him. I don't want to know if he has a girlfriend or a foot fetish or a rap sheet. And he doesn't know anything about Joey Potter, waitress extraordinare. He's an artist. He's different ... he's life-experienced. Maybe I'll learn something from him."
Jack's gone full-circle from friend to boyfriend to big-brother mode. "Hmm, yeah, like what?" he demands. "The art of French kissing?" "It's not about that, Jack!" Joey sighs. "It's about expanding my horizons. I'm having an adventure. I'm having fun." "And I'm going with you," Jack tells her, over-protectively. "Jack!" she says, exasperated. "No," he insists. "There's no argument! This guy could be a tall, dark psychopath!"
Dawson and Ms. Kennedy, meanwhile, are viewing a private screening of Creek Daze. On screen, Sammy (Devon) barks at Kim (Abby). "I'm not in love with him! He's my best friend. You ... you are some barracuda who needs someone to keep her bed warm!" "You don't even know the first thing about me!" Kim replies indignantly. "And before you make me into the role of the wicked temptress who's trying to seduce your non-boyfriend, at least get your facts straight! I told you, I am a virgin! "Oh, please," Sammy snorts in disgust. "We Creeksiders may be provincial, but we are not stupid."
Over at the Ryans', Jen is busy playing beauty parlour with Grams, but she can't resist the opportunity to torment her grandmother just a little bit in the process. "Now, Grams," she begins primly as she colours Grams' hair over the sink, "This is the '90s and women today have to protect themselves. You do have contraceptives, don't you?"
"That's it!" Grams says, alarmed, and rising from her chair. "I'm not going." "Oh, I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Jen chuckles. "Back here, come on. I predict that this will be an evening filled with old-fashioned romance." Grams looks relieved. Jen smiles mischievously. "Anyway, Whit seems like a really cool guy. I'm sure he has Trojans in his wallet." Grams' mouth hits the ground in horror.
Over at the Community Arts Building, Joey is picking through an assortment of clothes for her photo shoot, Jack in tow. "So," she asks Colin. "What should I wear?" He shrugs. "You can wear anything you want. Just think of this as a chance for you to try on a different side of your personality. You know, how do you want to see yourself?"
Joey's not exactly sure how she wants to see herself, but Jack has an idea. "This one, right here," he says, pointing to a big, fluffy boa. "This is it." (Okay, either he's trying to pay her back for the whole posing naked thing, or else he's coming to terms with his Inner Drag Queen here!)
A moment later, Joey, clad in a gold spangled dress with said feathery black boa, is standing in front of the camera, looking miserable. "I feel like a drag queen," she confesses. (What did I just say?!?!) "You look great," Jack reassures her. (Again, what did I just say?!?!)
In an attempt to get her to loosen up, Colin barks suggestions from behind the camera lens. "All right, loosen up now, Joey," he instructs. "Now, give me a little bit of attitude. Attitude!" Joey adjusts the boa as she tries different looks at the camera. "Yes!" Jack shouts excitedly. (The boy's been out of the closet what ... two weeks? ... and already he's living up to a thousand different cliches)
"Yes!" Colin echoes Jack's sentiments. (Clue number one) "Excellent! All right ... you're Madonna, strutting herself on stage." (Clue number two) In response, Joey tosses the boa over her shoulder and shoots a dazzling smile at the lens. "Good!" Colin nods. "Keep that up! All right ... Marilyn Monroe, singing 'Happy Birthday' to JFK." (Clue number three) Joey turns away from the camera and looks backward over her shoulder with a smile.
"Excellent!" Colin yells. "Yes!" Jack can't contain himself any longer. "You're the ghost of Catherine and you're waiting for Heathcliffe at the end of Wuthering Heights!" he blurts out. (And I almost fell off my chair laughing! You wanna talk about stereotypes?!)
"Good one," Colin nods. (Clue number four) Jack smiles. "Thanks." "God, she's beautiful," Colin remarks wistfully. "Are you two just friends?" "Yeah," Jack replies. "Just friends." "Good, Colin nods (Clue number five), then directs his attention towards Joey. "Excellent, Joey. Give me one more of those!"
Joey changes into a leopard-skin print coat and poses some more. "That's it! That's it, Joey!" Colin shouts. Another quick-change, and she's wearing a white shirt with suspenders, trousers and a hat. She poses with a rose between her teeth for one shot (cheesy), and removes her suspenders for another.
Colin is extremely impressed. "That's it, Joey! That's it!" he smiles. "You are fabulous. I cannot wait to get these developed!" He gives her a big hug. "Thank you," she blushes modestly, and waves poor Jack away over Colin's shoulder. "You are a born diva." (Ladies and gentlemen, Clue number six! Although not really, come to think of it. No red-blooded homosexual would ever truly think of Joey as a diva. She's too ... tame and wholesome, and she lacks that essential Elton John quality that a great diva makes. ;P) (by the way, one of my very best friends in the whole wide world is gay, so all these comments are meant with the utmost respect and love, tongue firmly entrenched in cheek)
Anyway. After the little hug / diva encounter, Joey and Colin stare at each other for an awkward moment or two, she clearly wanting to kiss him and he clearly ... walking away. (Clue number seven)
Back at Grams and Jen's, the latter is going through the former's wardrobe, picking out suitable date clothes. "No ... nope ... no ... no ... no ... definitely not ... nope ..." Jen sighs. Through the wonders of time-lapse photography, the camera fast forwards through the getting-ready process, to Jen putting the final touches on Grams' makeup.
"Grams, dating is just like riding a bike. All you have to do is get back on." Jen holds up a mirror for Grams to see the finished product. "When he takes one look at you, believe me, he won't want to do much talking," Jen smiles. And what a transformation it is! She looks about 20 years younger and much improved. Nice work, Jen!
Back at the fair, Pacey is pacing around the grounds when he sees Madame Zenovich. "You should come to see me, young man, your fortune told for only five dollar," she tells him in a vaguely Eastern European accent. Pacey is not buying into her act, though. "Just curious," he begins, "When somebody comes to get their fortune told, why can't you just say something nice? Something reassuring? Cause I guarantee you, that's what they want to hear."
"That would not be the truth," Madame Zenovich answers. "If they ask for the truth, they must hear the answer." Pacey's still not impressed. "Well, I'm not asking," he mutters and begins to walk away. "I think I will tell you anyway," Madame Z calls after him.
"I see a young man that wears a mask that is not his own," she says mysteriously. "To the world, he is strong and confident ... beneath the mask is a little boy ... afraid of the world, afraid of everything. He knows all he has is resting on a deck of cards. The tiniest gust of wind could knock it all down." Obviously, her words hit a little too close to home, because Pacey gets up and leaves without saying a word.
Colin and Joey are leaving, too. As they exit the Community Arts Building, Colin tries to muster up the courage to ask Joey a question. "There's something I wanted to ..." he begins, shyly. "Nah, just forget it." "What?" Joey asks quickly. He tries again. "There's something I wanted to ..." "Yes?" she prompts. They are standing face-to-face, practically lip-to-lip at this point. Finally, Colin comes out with it. "Is your friend Jack ... dating anyone?"
A few minutes later, Joey rejoins Jack at their art exhibit. "So, what happened?" Jack asks excitedly. "Well," she sighs, "He probably would have thrown me on the ground and made passionate love to me if ..." "If?" Jack demands. "... He wasn't gay," Joey finishes glumly.
"What?" Jack asks, wide-eyed. Joey shrugs. "He compared me to Madonna and Marilyn Monroe, I mean, talk about your red flags." "What?" Jack asks again, completely dumb-struck. (which, for Jack, is not that hard an appearance to take on) "He's gay," Joey repeats. "As in, three-dollar bill."
"You're kidding me," Jack says incredulously. "No," she sighs. "And Jack ... you really need to develop some gaydar." "Oh yeah," he answers with a touch of sarcasm, "I hear they're giving a training class on that down at the Community Centre." "I'm sorry," Joey says sheepishly. "I'm new at this, and --" "You?" Jack asks. "What about me? People look at me like I'm about to start tap-dancing to Bette Midler albums!" (Now there's a mental image I didn't exactly need)
"Well, this should cheer you up," Joey smiles. "As it turns out, the tall, dark stranger is coming into your life." "What?" Jack asks, yet again. "He wanted to meet you after the fair, so I told him you'd meet him at the fire at eleven," Joey tells him matter-of-factly. "You what?!" "Jack demands. "Why?" "Because," she says, "He's nice, he's smart, he's attractive. What's your problem? Go out with him!" But Colin apparently, isn't Jack's cup of latte. "Just because there's a second homosexual in Capeside, it doesn't mean that I'm obligated to go out with him, Joey!" he snaps at her.
The screening of Dawson's movie has ended, and he turns to Ms. Kennedy for feedback. "So, what'd you think?" She struggles to find the right words. "It's fine." "Fine?" Dawson asks, a touch concerned. She nods hesitantly. "Come on," he urges. "Your opinion is really important to me. I really want to learn, so ..."
"You want my honest opinion?" Ms. Kennedy interrupts. "Yeah," Dawson nods, "Don't hold back." "Are you sure you want the truth?" she asks again. This time, his answer isn't as forthright. "Yeah ..." "Okay, then," Ms. Kennedy swallows. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Dawson. I think your film is completely uninspired." His face falls as she speaks. "I mean the production line is flat, your story is non-existent -- even your dialogue is not believable."
"It needs more work, I know that," Dawson says in a small voice. But Ms. Kennedy's critical assessment of Dawson's life work isn't finished yet. "It lacks emotion of any kind and sends no message to the audience," she continues. "If I cut the B story line?" he asks hopefully. "It won't help," she replies. "It's a preposterous soap opera about a bunch of teenagers who talk too much. I mean, we've seen it before. All that self-aware, self-referential, hyperbole, filled with cliches that are disguised as send-ups. It actually borders on plagiarism." (It's ironically tongue-in-cheek that she should say that, cause those are exactly the same criticisms levelled at Dawson's Creek when it first came out)
"This is only my second film though," Dawson says, his voice trembling. "I'm still learning." Ms. Kennedy smiles at him almost sympathetically. "Look, Hollywood's tough. They don't hand out rejection with a box of chocolates. It's real, it's harsh, and it hurts. You're sweet, Dawson, and you're just the kind of person Hollywood eats for breakfast. And it would break my heart to see that happen to you." Dawson swallows, his cheeks flushed. "Thank you ... I appreciate your honesty," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, Dawson," Ms. Kennedy replies.
Another person who's doling out apologies is Jack. He and Joey are sipping hot chocolates when he repents for his earlier testiness. "I'm sorry, Joey," he confesses. "I over-reacted. I know that I should be moving forward with this whole new sexual identity ... but the truth is I'm just not ready. Not yet." She smiles at him gently. "We've got a whole lifetime of adventures ahead of us, right? Plenty of time for romance." He leans towards her and for a split second, you're led to think he's going back into the closet, but at the last minute, the kiss lands softly on her forehead. "Plenty of time to be kissed," Jack agrees. "Come here." They cuddle up together and continue sipping their drinks.
Dawson, needless to say is feeling down in the dumps, so he decides to walk around the fairgrounds in order to clear his mind. Unfortunately, the things he encounters only seem to add insult to injury. First, he spies Ms. Kennedy, film critic extraordinaire, getting into a car with his father and driving away. Then, he sees Joey selling some of her artwork to a man, which cheers him up somewhat ... until he also sees Jack running up to her after the sale and hugging her. Miserable, he continues walking.
Andie is miserable too, but for different reasons, and Pacey is determined to get to the bottom of it all. "All right, talk to me Andie. Tell me what happened." "I just wanted to know that things would get better. But they're not," she begins almost tearfully, referring, of course, to Madame Zenovich. "She said the troubles of my past are only a preview of what's to come. I need to know that the worst is behind me, Pacey, because I don't know if I can handle anymore unhappiness." (sigh ... I know exactly how she feels ...)
"Andie, how can you take the word of a five dollar carnie charlatan seriously? Your future is going to be so bright and so magnificent that it's going to be off the scale. There's no measure for how wonderful your life is going to turn out," Pacey tells her. "I wish I could believe that," she replies wistfully. "You know what? You don't have to," he responds. "Because I'll believe it for you." Pacey picks up Andie's hand and kisses it, and they cozy up by the bonfire.
Around the scheduled 11 p.m. meeting time, Joey finds Colin by the bonfire. "Hey, Colin?" she smiles. "I'm sorry, but Jack isn't coming and I really didn't have any right to accept for him." "Oh, I understand," Colin smiles back sadly. Joey looks concerned. "Are you okay?" "With this? Yeah," he nods. "You sure?" Joey asks. "Truth is, I'm on the proverbial rebound," he smiles wanly. "I just recently broke up with someone and we were friends a long time before that but now I don't have the relationship or the friend. I guess I'm just trying to fill the void."
Joey studies him a moment. "Can I ask you something?" "Yeah," Colin says. "Why did the two of you break up?" Colin thinks a little bit before answering. "You know, at the time, I could think of about a million reasons, but now I can't think of any. Does that make any sense?" "Yeah," Joey nods, "More than you could imagine." "You know," Colin confesses, "Sometimes I wish I hadn't been in such a hurry to move forward, because there comes a point when it's just impossible to go back." He gives her a brief kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight."
Jen is also another lost soul wandering the fairgrounds. She spots Grams, alone, and dashes over to her, concerned. "Grams? What's the matter, where's Whit?" Grams gives her a small, sad smile. "Oh, his wife wasn't feeling well so he had to cancel." "His wife?" Jen asks in disbelief. "Mmm-hmm," Grams says.
"I'm so sorry," Jen tells her. "I should never have pushed you into going out with him. I had no idea. Are you okay?" "I'm fine," Grams replies. "I feel like crap," Jen sighs. "Well, you shouldn't," Grams scolds her gently. "You did something wonderful for me today. Ever since your grandfather died, I just assumed I'd done all the living I was meant to do. But now I realize I can't live in the past. I need to open up to new people ... new friends." Jen looks at her grandmother sadly. "Do you ever ... do you ever get afraid of facing the future alone?" "Sometimes," Grams answers with a smile. "Me too," Jen whispers back.
Back to Dawson, who approaches the now infamous Madame Zenovich just as she's closing up shop. "Five dollars, right?" he asks. "I'm closed," Madame Zenovich answers flatly. "You're closed," Dawson mutters. "Of course you are! I'm sorry! I don't even need to know my future, I already know what my future holds -- Dawson Leery is destined to live a life of misery and die loveless, friendless, and in complete obscurity."
Madame Zenovich speaks scornfully. "Don't mock the spirits for they are powerful and unforgiving." Sitting down next to Dawson, she picks up her Tarot Cards and pulls one card out of the pack. "Ah, the Lovers," she pronounces. "Very interesting. A soulmate walks in your path, one you have known for many lifetimes before this one. She knows you well. She sees into your soul. She feels your pain."
"She blew me off." Dawson mutters flatly. "No," Madame Z replies very seriously. "She's here. She's around you." "Then why do I keep losing her?" Dawson demands. "That which is lost can be found again," the fortune teller answers cryptically. "Thanks," Dawson sighs hopelessly, and looks heavenwards. He goes to pay her, but Madame Zenovich has vanished.
Later that evening in his room, Dawson sits in a corner of his room, glowering at his model village of Capeside that Jack built for the movie. He takes out all his rage on it and throws it across the room. It hits the wall, breaking apart. Inside, Dawson dials her number, but of course, no one is home. He turns his lights off. Joey, meanwhile, is on the Leerys' lawn, gazing up at his room, which, from her perspective, is empty.
Each thinking the other isn't there, Joey leaves Dawson's house and rows back to her own, while Dawson sits inside his room by the window, hugging his knees in front of him. As Joey gets out of her boat and walks towards her house, she notices the silhouette of a tall, dark, strange man at the door. "Who's there?" she asks, alarmed. The man turns around to face her, much to her shock and surprise. "Daddy?" she whispers.
Fade to black ...
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