"You're not gonna explode," Dawson smiles. "Really? How do you know that, huh?" Pacey needles, adding that "some guy in Norway blew up in the middle of a supermarket last year." Dawson smiles again. "Nervous anticipation doesn't cause spontaneous combustion." "Who said I was nervous?" Pacey asks, a touch defensively. "It's natural that you're nervous," Dawson says calmly. "I mean you see Andie in ... less than six hours?" "Five hours and 20 minutes if the traffic's right." Dawson grins as Pacey continues sheepishly. "Okay, so I'm a little nervous, man, but what do you expect?"
Dawson inquires if Andie's father is still letting Pacey pick her up (a little odd, I thought -- considering Mr. McPhee is such a control freak, I thought he'd want to pick her up himself). "Absolutely," Pacey grins while locking his bike up in a rack. "This train cuts at lunch."
"Do you need some company?" Dawson offers, but Pacey has a surprising answer. "Actually, Joey's gonna come with me. She wants to see Andie, and as per our conversation last week ..." There's an awkward silence for a brief moment, then Dawson trips over his tongue giving Pacey a verbal seal of approval. "Absolutely! Please, nobody welcomes a Potter-Witter detente more than me. I'm glad she has somebody. It can only help as Joey and I weave our separate ways through these pathless woods we call life."
Pacey seizes the opportunity to change the subject. "Speaking of wood, Dawson ... whatever happened with a certain bus girl?" Dawson groans. "Don't ask. She vanished. Disappeared. Jonathan Krakauer-ed into thin air." (Note: Yet another obliquely obscure pop-cult reference from the DC writing crew. I had to look this one up -- turns out, Jonathan Krakauer is the author of a book called, well, Into Thin Air, a first-hand account of a 1996 fatal climbing expedition on Mt. Everest.)
"You let her get away?" Pacey chides him, but Dawson has a fair explanation. "I've got a slightly irate father to answer to, Pacey. I'm lucky I got away with my life." As they enter the school, Pacey asks for any updates on Eve, and Dawson admits he hasn't been able to locate her. "Did you check down at the strip joint?" "Embarrassingly, yes," Dawson confesses. "Turns out, she doesn't even work there anymore. She was a temp."
Pacey is both shocked and impressed with this news. "Strip joints have temps?" Dawson shrugs. "The only information I have about her is her first name and who knows if that's for real." Pacey thinks that's too bad, because Eve was the "ultimate transitional woman," but Dawson doesn't quite follow and asks for clarification.
As the two walk down the hall to their first class of the morning, Pacey launches into a speech about Eve's merits. "Well, you're coming off an emotionally traumatic, life-altering relationship and the last thing you need to do is get emotionally involved again, right? But since you are a young, virile, increasingly buff teenage male, you have certain wants and desires. Enter Eve. A gift from the gods of rebound high. A curvaceous vixen who is meant to be explored in only a sexual manner ..."
Suddenly, a slender, female arm emerges from a janitor's closet and yanks Dawson in, a gesutre which goes completely unnoticed by Pacey, who obliviously continues his dissertation. "... A femme fatale whose entire genetic coding screams, 'Objectify me!' I'm telling you, Dawson, if you ever find her again, do not let her out of your sight." Of course, Pacey chooses that moment to turn around and find Dawson has been let out of his sight. "Dawson?"
Inside the closet, Eve is enthusiastically examining Dawson's tonsils with her tongue. He eventually pulls away, slightly dazed. "Eve?" "Morning, Dawson," she grins wickedly. "Welcome to school." "What are you doing here?" he asks in pure amazement. "At 11, I'm popping out of a cake for Mr. Sacks in American History," comes the cheeky reply, but by the look on Dawson's face, he doesn't know whether to take her seriously or not. "Duh, I'm, like, a student," she giggles.
"You are not," he scoffs. "What, you've never seen a senior girl up close before?" Eve teases. "I've seen plenty of senior girls but none of them look like you," Dawson tells her. "Plus, you must be at least --" "Watch it." "... Older than I am," he finishes weakly.
Eve is clearly disappointed. "I thought you'd be more excited about my sudden appearance," she pouts. "I'm very excited," Dawson insists. "It's just they're usually followed by an equally sudden disappearance. I mean, who are you, Eve? First you're this stunning passenger on my bus, striking up a conversation ... then you're wearing a wig, serving cocktails in the strip club ... now you're a senior at my high school?"
"You've got it all wrong, Dawson." She shakes her head. "I'm none of those things." Sighing, Eve (pathetically) mimics Julia Roberts from Notting Hill. "I'm just a girl ... standing in a janitor's closet ... asking you to kiss her." And kiss her he does, until the first bell interrupts their make-out session. "Late for bio," Eve smiles briefly. "See ya." With that, she pulls a Houdini and vanishes out the door.
"Wait!" Dawson tries to follow her, but gets entangled in a stray bucket and mop. "Can I get a last name this time?" As he stumbles out of the closet, Dawson's father and Principal Green just happen to be walking by and overhear his last remark. "Hey!" Mitch greets his son. "It's Leery, but you can call me Dad. Listen, the principal and I were just talking about you. We are in need of an honest student."
Principal Green explains the school is holding a pep rally tomorrow, and he believes it to be a critical event in setting the tone for the upcoming football season. Mitch chimes in that, in light of the Minutemen having such bad luck the last few years, and in light of him being the coach ... "... We thought we would revolutionize this," the principal finishes. "Set this pep rally apart from all the other ones." "So what do you think?" Mitch beams.
Dawson's a bit taken aback and still somewhat dazed from his scorching face-sucking session. "Sounds ... good?" he says hesitantly. Principal Green barrels over him like a steam roller. "I'll need your help. I'll see you in my office at three o'clock!" He walks away as Dawson calls after him. "Wait ... but!" Dawson sighs as his father places a hand on his shoulder. "Very wise of you to help out, son, in light of the fact that you owe me." Mitch follows the principal down the hall, as Dawson stands stranded in the hallway. "This is so not my day," he mutters.
After school, Grams and Jack are having tea with Jack's father on the Ryans' porch, where Mr. McPhee is thanking Grams for hosting Jack for the summer. "After a year with Jennifer, having Jack was like boarding St. Francis," Grams smiles pleasantly. Jack asks when his sister gets in, and his father replies that Pacey is surprising her by bringing her home early (I still don't get that, but whatever ...).
"She's made a full recovery, then?" Grams asks. "That's what the doctors say, although they like to remind you that with mental illness, you're never out of the woods," Mr. McPhee says sadly. Grams congratulates Mr. McPhee for giving Andie an excellent chance by moving his business so she can stay in Capeside.
Jack takes this as an opportunity to ask his father if they could wait until the weekend to move his stuff my stuff back into the house. "Actually, that's what I've come to talk to you about," Mr. McPhee sips his tea nervously. Sensing an impending meltdown, Grams wisely excuses herself. Mr. McPhee stares at his son, deep in thought. Finally, his words come out in a tangled tumble. "I was ... thinking ... that perhaps ... it might be better for you to stay here a while ... as long as it's all right with Mrs. Ryan."
"You don't want me home?" Jack asks bluntly. "You have a situation that works for you," Mr. McPhee explains. "I don't think it's wise to disturb that." "What you mean is that you have a situation that works for you," Jack corrects. Mr. McPhee shakes his head. "The changes that you are going to make in your life now, changes you have every right to make, would be too difficult with me around." It's a partially fair assessment, but Jack doesn't fully buy it. "Why can't you just admit that you're afraid?" he demands. "You can't deal with having a gay son, and having me around would be doing just that."
You can sense that Mr. McPhee sort-of means well, but he's frustrated with his son's bitterness and cynicism. "Must you assume that every decision I make is based upon my lack of character?" "No, just the ones that concern me," Jack says coldly. "Well, since this is still my home I suggest you leave." Without a further word, Mr. McPhee puts his mug down and walks away, saddened.
Meanwhile, the other member of the McPhee family, Andie, is about to get the surprise of her life. Pacey has arrived to pick her up a day early, but he's having a wee spot of bother with the admissions nurse. "Andie McPhee is scheduled to be released tomorrow, not today," she tells him firmly.
"That's why it's a surprise," Pacey tells her for the umpteenth time through gritted teeth. "We try to avoid surprises," the nurse replies, full of condescension. "The only way she leaves today is with her own written consent." "Which I will get if you let me walk in through the door and talk to her!" Pacey's about thisclose to completely losing his temper. The nurse nods. "And that will be tomorrow at 9 a.m. when visiting hours resume! Not a minute earlier!" "You've gotta be kidding me," he mutters. She stares at him blankly. "Does this look like a face that kids?"
A moment later, Pacey is outside the building, walking up to Joey, who is sitting on the hood of their car. "This is ridiculous," he sighs. Joey asks what happened. "Well, the clinic doesn't allow visitors after hours so subsequently I can't talk to Andie, subsequently I can't get her permission to take her home," he tells her, utterly frustrated. Joey thinks a moment, nodding to herself, then holds out her hand to Pacey so he can help her get down. He looks at her strangely. "What?" "Follow me."
Inside, in one of the most charming scenes of the show in a long time, Joey is trying to make some headway with the same nurse Pacey struck out with a few minutes earlier. "You don't understand," Joey pleads. "I have to see a doctor immediately." The nurse shakes her head firmly. "This is a private care facility. Unless it is a medical emergency, we do not take walk-ins."
"This is a moral injustice," Joey shouts. "I have psychiatric concerns!" The nurse gives her a once-over. "Well, obviously." "Fine," Joey sighs. "If that's the way it is, I guess you'll just have to do." The nurse's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"
Joey makes herself comfortable in the reception area, hopping up on the nurse's desk and stretching out her legs. "Well," she begins, "Somebody's got to listen to me. I've had a tough life, lady and I have a lot to talk about. It all started when I fell in love with this boy down the creek, and that was after my mother died of cancer but before my father went to prison for the second time ..."
Away from the nurse's view, Joey motions to Pacey that the coast is clear, and he crawls across the floor in front of the nurse's desk. "... The boy's name was Dawson, and he was your typical, over-analytical, adorable teenager who happened to be my best friend ..."
Cut to said typical, over-analytical, adorable teenager sitting in the principal's office after school. "That's propaganda," Dawson says softly. Principal Green nods. "In a word, yes. But it's the only chance we have of getting people into those seats. Listen, all I need right now is somebody to recut this footage into some sort of promotional film for tomorrow. Now your father says that you're the man for the job."
"Footage of what?" Dawson asks. The principal smiles broadly, embellishing a little for posterity's sake. "The Minutemen. Our fearless champions of the turf. Ambassadors of the sport. Paragons of athletic prowess." Dawson bursts his bubble. "They're winless three years running." Principal Green rubs a hand across his eyes. "Listen, I know what the reality is, but the footage wouldn't emphasize what is, but what could be."
Dawson nods. "The Leni Riefenstahl approach. You know, the Nazis did this, too." (Groan ... another little-known reference, this time to the actress / director / writer / editor / producer who was widely accused of being in love with Adolf Hitler during the Third Reich. She made several propaganda films for him, though at the time, the lady doth protest too much that not only was she not part of the Nazi campaign, but that the Nazis themselves weren't really doing much harm. After WWII, she had a change of heart and deeply regretted her work. So there you go, your history lesson for the day, courtesy of the Internet Movie Data Base -- www.imdb.com.)
Back to our regularly-scheduled program, where Principal Green tries again to convince Dawson of the project's worthiness. "Dawson, throughout history, film has proven to be a highly effective medium. Now Kafka, he used it to recruit American troops to fight World War II. Annie Hall inspired countless scores of women to start to wear men's apparel..." As he drones on about great filmmakers throughout the ages, Dawson's attention turns to a now-familiar blonde he sees through the office window. "You know what? I'll do it! I'll do it!" Dawson interrupts. "Can I go now?"
Grabbing his things, Dawson races out of the office and then the school, racing up to Eve frantically. "Slow down, Buster Brown," she giggles, amused at his eagerness. Dawson, however, doesn't find the situation as amusing. "I'm warning you," he warns her, :p "This is the last time I'm going to chase you. I spent a year chasing after a woman. It's a very bad habit, and I don't plan on getting into it again."
"Oh, so you're one of those, are you?" Eve says airily. "One of whom?" Dawson says sharply. "You know," Eve muses, "One of those guys who spend the rest of their life comparing every relationship to their first one?" Dawson's been called out and he knows it. "That isn't ... not entirely true," he finishes lamely.
"So, you're completely over her?" Eve says airily again. "Over who?" Dawson replies, trying to be blase. "Nice try." Eve's too worldly to fall for that. "The brunette it took you all of five minutes to bring up on the bus?" He's trapped and he knows it. "Okay ... I motion for a change of subject." One thing you gotta love about Eve, though, she's a no-nonsense, cut-to-the-chase kind of gal. "Motion denied," she tells him flatly. "Are you or are you not over your ex-flame?" "Yes," Dawson replies, after a moment's hesitation. "I'm over her."
Eve takes a long look at Dawson. "Sorry. Don't buy it." He's exasperated. "Then why did you even ask?" She shrugs. "To see if you'd be honest with me. You weren't." Eve grins. "I like that." Dawson is floored, this is unlike anything he's ever encountered before, including Jen in her wildest of wild days. "You like dishonesty?" He frowns, confused. "What else turns you on, greed and corruption?"
"Sex." Her answer is blunt, and her eyes lock with his as she speaks. "Sex turns me on, Dawson." To say Dawson is caught off-guard would be a gross understatement. "It tends to do that to people," he finally manages to blurt out. Eve arches an eyebrow at him and slightly shakes her head. "And you would know ... how?" Dawson smiles self-depreciatingly. "I will choose to ignore that slight."
"Maybe it wasn't a slight ... maybe it was an invitation." Eve's voice is totally calm, totally cool and unwavering. If Dawson was caught off-guard before, he's on the ground by now. "What are you suggesting?" he asks incredulously, fully knowing the answer. "Only the obvious," Eve says softly, speaking to him as if he were a child. "A night of scorching, hot, unbridled, mind-altering sex." (Uhhh, Eve? He's a teenage virgin. You'll be lucky if you get five minutes of tepid, mediocre, inept fumbling ... though I realise that's a sweeping generalization and there are rare exceptions to the rule. I just can't see Dawson as being one of them.)
Dawson can't wrap his head around what comes out of her mouth (um ... figuratively speaking, of course). "Just like that?" he remarks. "No first date, no months of getting to know each other?" Eve dismisses his village mentality. "Those are small town rituals for small town girls. Let's face it, Dawson. We're hot for each other. It would be a lot of fun. Who knows? Maybe it would even help you get over that certain brunette." (My, my, someone has a might and mighty opinion of herself, doesn't she? As if a quickie with Eve could ever wipe out all that Dawson had with Jo!)
"You're on." And with those two little words, Dawson makes the huge decision to once and for all put his past behind him, and gallop into his future at breakneck speed. Eve is more than pleased with his resolution, to say the least. "Good," she purrs. "Now, I'll take care of the time and place ... you just take care of being prepared." (Hmph. Spoken like a true ho-bag) "How do I find you in the mean time?" Dawson asks urgently. "You don't find me, Dawson." Eve flashes him a cocky grin. "I find you." She sashays across the quad, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a big smile on his face. "This is so my day," he beams.
Unfortunately, it isn't Pacey's day. At Mayfield, Andie's psychiatric institution, he wanders the private halls in search of her room. When he finally finds it, it's hard to say who is more surprised -- Andie, seeing Pacey when she was expecting her father a day later, or Pacey, seeing Andie lying comfortably on her bed ... laughing and talking to a guy named Marc.
"Pacey! Oh my God, what in the world are you doing here?" Her voice is a mixture of shock, bewilderment, mild anxiety and panic, but Pacey doesn't see it. "I came to surprise you!" he grins, bounding over to her and embracing her in a big hug. She hugs back half-heartedly, and then remembers Marc, who Pacey is now regarding with great interest. "Oh! Yeah, okay! Um ... Marc ... Pacey, Marc ... Marc, this is ... a big surprise." The two of them politely shake hands.
"Um, I thought my dad said he was going to pick me up tomorrow?" Andie asks Pacey, trying to divert attention from the fact she's been caught in a quasi-compromising situation. Pacey's brow knits together, he can sense something just isn't quite right. "Yeah, I know ... but we thought ... well, I thought ..." he begins, but Andie laughs uneasily, ignoring his uncomfortableness (if that word doesn't exist, I've decided it does now, okay?).
A discomforting silence settles in, which Marc breaks by announcing his departure for dinner. He promises to come back, though, and Andie hugs him tightly as he leaves. "Bye, Marc," she whispers emotionally. "We'll talk soon, though," Marc tells her, trying to be comforting. "Yeah, we will," she replies with a sad smile. The two of them are behaving as if Pacey isn't even in the room, and he probably wishes he weren't.
As Marc leaves the room, Joey enters. She casts a brief, confused glance at him, then meets Pacey's eyes questioningly. Her gaze then shifts to Andie, and the two girls embrace. "Oh! Joey!" Andie's tone is considerably more upbeat than when she greeted Pacey, a fact that doesn't go unnoticed by him. "Yeah," Joey grins, "But if we don't leave soon they're going to make me stay." "Yeah," Pacey chimes in, trying to be light. "Guess we should get you packed up, huh?" "Right," Andie agrees and begins collecting her things. Pacey and Joey exchange another significant look, this one fraught with suspicion and tension.
"ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! We don't care if we don't score! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! A few points would be really great! That's all right, that's okay, you're gonna work for us someday! Gooooooooooo Capeside!"
Jack and Jen watch the pom pom squad practice from the bleachers on the football field. "What do you think?" Jen asks Jack gingerly. He searches for the best way to answer her delicately. "Jen, this is for a pep rally, don't you think they should be slightly more ..." "Peppy?" "No ... optimistic?"
Jen sighs. "No, no, Jack, I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. Do you think I want to be held responsible for killing off the last vestiges of Capeside's school spirit? I mean, ever since they elected me leader of their little cult, all they've wanted to do are these nasty, sardonic, self-aware cheers. What's worse is they've even started to dress like me. It's like they're genetically predisposed to having absolutely no identity."
Jack grins. "That's a blonde gene." "Not funny." Just then, an out-of-control football comes spiralling towards them. "Watch it!" Jen shouts, but Jack is already on top of it and catches it easily.
On the field, Coach Leery growls at his players. "This isn't fan appreciation day, we're not giving the balls away!" A young pipsqueak in full football gear, eerily resembling Kirk Cameron from his early Growing Pains years, pesters Mitch for attention much like a puppy nipping at its owners ankles. "Come on, coach! Let me in! His arm blows out there!" "Power down, Henry," Coach Leery yells. Henry is insistant. "They're killing us out there!" Mitch stops and stares at him in disbelief. "We're running play-action patterns against ourselves! No one is killing us!"
Back on the bleachers, Jack and Jen are discussing his living arrangements. Jen is puzzled. "I thought you weren't sure yet about whether or not you wanted to go home?" Jack admits he isn't, but that the point is, his father should have at least asked him (fair enough). Their conversation is interrupted by another wayward pigskin, which Jack once again catches and tosses back to the field. "What kind of father doesn't want his son to live with him, anyway?" Jack asks sadly. Jen gives him a grim smile. "Trust me, I've been there." Jack reminds her that at least Jen has Grams, but she is quick to counter that Jack does, too, and he has her as well.
Mitch and Henry are still arguing the game on the field. "For the last time, Henry, you're a second-string freshman who's lucky he's not on JV!" "We don't have a JV!" Henry points out. Mitch exhales deeply. "In the instance Folk gets injured, that's when you start!" Henry's not so engorged with this idea. "What about in the instance that he sucks?" Final straw. "Four laps. NOW!" Mitch booms. After a look of disbelief, Henry trots over to the track, pouting all the while.
"Oh God, look out!" Jen yelps, as a third football heads for her and Jack on the bleachers. Again, Jack catches it, and again, he makes a powerful throw back to the field, where Coach Leery stares at him, deep in thought.
Over at the Capeside drug store, Leery Junior is also deep in thought, counting the items he's amassed at the check-out. "Uhh, PowerBars ... Advil ... Polaroid film ... Lifesavers ... ah, what else am I forgetting?" He tries to sound nonchalant as he suddenly "remembers." "... Oh, the, uh ... condoms."
The clerk, an old geezer in his '70s, doesn't quite hear what Dawson said. "Uhh, condoms," Dawson mutters, a little louder. "A pack of ... condoms." Still no dice with the old dude, who tells him to speak up. "Condoms," Dawson repeats a fourth time, to the amusement of two teenage girls and a woman behind him in the line. Suddenly, the clerk's hearing picks up and he loudly announces they aren't kept behind the counter any more (I don't think they've been kept behind the counter since the mid '70s!): "CONDOMS, AISLE 6!"
Cut to aisle 6, where Dawson stares at a wall filled with numerous varieties of baby food. (Tee hee, just checking to make sure you were paying attention) "This is worse than breakfast cereals," he murmurs to himself, but it catches the attention of a man behind him. "Big night, or you just stocking up?" Dawson, who would clearly rather be anywhere on the planet but at that exact place at that exact moment, manages to tell his new friend that it's a little bit of both.
Seizing the opportunity to be (overly) helpful, the man sympathizes with Dawson that indeed, prophylactic purchasing have never been more difficult. "It used to be that they just had two kinds. Regular, and for those of us who needed them, the magnum." Remember what I just said about Dawson rather being anywhere else on the planet but there at that exact moment? Well, scratch that, I think this exact moment supercedes that one a millionfold.
Extremely uncomfortable, Dawson winces at the man's words and musters up a small smile. "Huh." The man slaps his arm around Dawson and begins to wax rubber ... literally. "These days, you got your ribbed, your non-ribbed, your lubricated, your non-lubricated, your thin, your ultra thin, sheepskin, extra sensitive, Nonoxydol-9, and glow in the darks," he finishes knowledgeably, as if passing down ancient folklore from one generation to the next.
Another man overhears their conversation -- well, the first man's animated words and Dawson's mortified, mute face -- and enthusiastically throws himself into the discussion, offering his two cents worth of condom chat. (Hey! Condom Chat! That would make a great sketch for Saturday Night Live, don't you think? "Condom Chat, with Dick Wiggly ...")
Ummm, anyway ... the second man has this wisdom to impart about the product at hand: "Glow in the darks don't work." The first man is amazed. "No kidding?" The second man shakes his head sagely. "Nah, you gotta hold 'em up to the light for 20 minutes. Who's got time for that?"
As if all this wasn't bad enough, now a woman several feet away decides to chimes with a female perspective. "If you really want to blow her mind, try the Brown Betty," she informs the trio. Acting like they've just been paid a visit by the Delphic Oracle herself, both men grab a pack of Brown Bettys gleefully as Dawson stares straight ahead, utterly horrified. "This is not happening."
Pacey probably feel such the same way, except for totally different reasons. Bogged down with boxes, he, Andie and Joey carry Andie's belongings out to the cruiser, each in a different mood -- Andie broody, Joey uneasy, and Pacey just plain confused. His curiosity gets the better of himself in the end. "Marc seems like a pretty nice guy," Pacey offers, trying to be light. "What's he in here for anyway?"
"That's private, Pacey." Andie sighs. Pacey's taken aback. "Come on, Andie, it's just us," he says, hurt. "Let's not talk about Marc ... please?" Andie snaps, but he can't drop it. "Well, it just seems a little odd. I mean, you guys seem to be so close, yet you never mentioned him in any of your letters or your e-mails --"
"Pacey, drop the male jealousy thing," Joey interjects, uncomfortable at being caught in the middle of something she doesn't quite understand, but can instinctively tell is a bad situation. "It's a long walk home, Potter," Pacey says sharply.
Andie looks at Pacey, chagrined. "Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" "How can I not be, Andie? I've spent months counting the moments until I could see you again, and the thought of some other guy getting to see you every day, and hear your stories, and eat dinner with you, just kills me." Andie softens enough after this confession to reward Pacey with a kiss and a long hug. Her typical sardonic self, Joey congratulates the pair on "the reunion kiss we've all been waiting for" and asks if they can go now.
Many miles away on the football field, Coach Leery has called a touch game for his players, which he notes, does not mean half-ass. As the team gets into formation, Henry the SuperPest jogs up to Mitch. "I'm second string," he announces. "Yes, Henry," Mitch answers patiently. "Which means I get to go in," he continues. "Yes, Henry," Mitch answers patiently again. "So, seeing as this is my one shot at impressing you, I'd like to tip the odds in my favour." He has a request for Mitch. "Call in a ringer." "Well, the teams are divided, Henry," Mitch explains, as if speaking to a toddler. "There's nobody left." Henry smiles. "Sure there is."
Cut to Henry and surprise, surprise, Jack, in the middle of a huddle. To me, an unabashed, out-of-the-closet football hater, the next little bit went something like this: "Blah blah blah ... tailback ... blah blah blah ... Z-Post ... blah blah blah ... 10 yards ... blah blah blah ... cut to the right ... blah blah blah ... Ready? Break!" Um, whatever, sure, I guess.
Typical shots of various members of the team passing and catching the ball perfectly, giving each other high-fives and acting jocky follow, interspersed with clips of Jen, the cheerleaders and Mitch looking very pleased indeed. In spite of himself, Jack is enjoying the game greatly.
Back at the mental institution, Andie, Pacey and Joey have loaded up the car and are ready to leave. Pilot Pacey announces they will be arriving in Capeside around 10, and requests the ladies place their station requests now. "Alternative!" Joey shouts from the back seat. "Classic rock it is," Pacey replies, snapping on the radio. He glances over at passenger seat, where Andie looks out the window sadly. Full of concern, he asks if she's okay. "Yeah," she smiles thinly. "I'm just happy to be with you and to be going home." The conversation is over as far as Andie is concerned, and she resumes looking out the window glumly as Pacey gets a very worried expression on his face.
The next morning, Jack and Andie reunite at her locker. "How's the first day of classes going there, gorgeous?" he beams at his sister, who grins from ear to ear while hugging him. "Very well, I must say." Pacey joins the trio and jokingly pulls Jack off her. "Hey, hey, hey! Get your hands off my girlfriend!" Jack laughs. "Get your hands off my sister."
Andie doesn't share their laughter. Pacey turns to her. "About tonight ... since it's your first Friday back in town, I was thinking you and I could go catch a movie and stroll down to our spot." She ixnays the idea, opting instead for a group dinner. Jack vetoes that, explaining he promised Jen he'd go to the school pep rally that evening instead.
"That could be fun!" Andie suggests hopefully, but now it's Pacey's turn to decline. "Well, in case you forgot, we're a very non-spirited group and pep rallies are all about spirit. So, what about you and me?" She dances around the subject. "Well, there's plenty of time for us to be alone. I just kinda wanna be around normal people right now, it's been a long time."
Pacey is mildly offended. "Well, what am I?" Jack laughs. "Well, she actually said 'normal people.'" The joke doesn't do much to ease Pacey's spirits. "You know, McPhee, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to avoid being alone with me." Andie's dancing changes from a Strauss waltz to fiery tango. "No! I mean ... we can be alone after ... or tomorrow! Okay? Bye!" After a perfunctory peck on the cheek, Andie rushes off down the hall, leaving a saddened Pacey in her wake.
Outside, Jack approaches Mitch on the football field. "I got a message you wanted to see me?" Mitch smiles. "Excellen job yesterday." "Thanks, Mr. Leery." Mitch's smile deepens. "I prefer my players call me Coach." Jack frowns as deeply as Mitch smiles. "No way, no."
Mitch refuses to hear his protests. "I want you to join the team, Jack. You and Henry were amazing together." "I don't play football," Jack insists. "Well, you fooled me," Mitch tells him. Jack sighs. "Look, do I have to spell it out for you? Gay kid on the football team. Now if that isn't a written invitation for ridicule, what is?"
To his credit, Mitch rejects that as an idea for not joining the team. "Come on, Jack," he urges. "One thing has nothing to do with the other." "In a perfect world, maybe," Jack replies, "But that's not Capeside." Mitch tries a different route. "Look, I got this team on a lark, Jack. Nobody wanted to coach a team that had been so bad for so long. And I thought, What the hell? It couldn't be any tougher than the last year of my life, and who knows, I might even like it. But the chance of actually winning? That's something I could really use right now and Jack ... I think you could, too."
Speaking of winning and scoring, Dawson is getting busy for his night of getting busy over at chez Leery. As he loads stuff into the back of his father's car (Why? He can't drive yet -- or can he? When did he get his car licence? Just cause the boy can drive a speedboat doesn't mean he can handle a real vehicle, does it?)
Jen approaches to see what Dawson's doing. "Setting up for tonight, or trying to," he says, accidentally dropping a bag on the ground. Jen picks it up, peering at the contents. "Dawson," she pulls out the prophylactics curiously. "Pray tell, condoms?" Embarrassed, he snatches them from her. She giggles. "Sorry, it's just that in the list of things I'd expect to find in your bag, condoms falls somewhere between nuclear plans and crack cocaine." He gives her a look, and she grins coyly at him. "Curiosity begs who is the lucky girl?"
"Privacy begs I ignore you." Her grin broadens as she nods slightly. "Ever since Philly, somebody's been whistling a very different tune." Dawson grins back. "It's the Dawson Leery for the new millenium. The guy who's not afraid to use the words 'good' and 'time' in close proximity."
Jen is impressed, but dubious. "Oh, well tell me then, Dawson 2000, are you ready for this good time? And I don't mean in a Trojan kind of way." Typically, he doesn't understand where she's going with this, so Jen clarifies. "Sex isn't a one way street, Dawson. There are going to be expectations where you're concerned." Suddenly, the light bulb goes on, and he asks Capeside's own Dr. Ruth for any hot tips she may have.
Ever happy to be of assistance in the Anything Sexual department, Jen replies cheerfully, "I thought you'd never ask." Dawson gets a look similar to the one he had during the drugstore discussion as she continues. "It's all about one word, Dawson -- pacing. Now, most virgins either go too slow or too fast. Now, which one do you think you are?"
"How would I know?" he mutters, embarrassed. (Wait a sec, wouldn't she know anyway? I mean, considering the two of them almost did the deed last season, you'd think she'd have a vague clue as to what he's like between the sheets) Jen tries an analogy. "Let's say that you have an ice cream sundae right in front of you and you have no spoon. It's 100 degrees out and you're starving. Now, do you lick the ice cream ... or do you bite right in?" Dawson's answer is entirely predictable. "Bite right in."
"Too fast." Jen shakes her head and sighs. "See, first you have to watch the sundae ... admire the sundae, then, just before it's about to drip, you gently let your lips lick around the exterior, savoring every inch. You wanna make that sundae last a long time -- but not too long, because then it ends up all over the table instead of in your mouth. But Dawson, if you remember one thing, let it be this: If you don't get the whipped cream all over your face, you're not doing it right. You see what I'm saying?" (Oh yes, Jen, we see what you're saying ... apparently all your sexual experience comes from doing the nasty with the Good Humor man.)
Fast forward to the Capeside High pep rally. As the marching band plays, the assembled masses watch the cheerleaders perform. A large sign on the wall reads, "Hope You Score This Year!" (Hmmm, foreshadowing for Dawson, perhaps?) Head pom-pom princess Jen has accessorized her gold-and-blue uniform with a pair of high-heeled boots, ripped fishnet stockings and crimped hair (wait, didn't that go out in the mid-'80s?) ... kind of a Siouxsie-Sioux-meets-Barbie look.
Jen does a call-and-response with the Stepford squad, only her calls are much less enthusiastic than their responses: "I don't know but I've been told ..." "I don't know but I've been told ..." "Capeside Minutemen break the mold ..." "Capeside Minutemen break the mold ..." "We've got style, we've got class ..." "We've got style, we've got class ..." "So what if those other guys kick our ass?" "So what if those other guys kick our ass!" "Go Capeside." "Gooooooooooo Capeside!"
Principal Green is both amused and disturbed by the girls' rather unique cheer. "Thank you, Minutegirls, for your ... candid enthusiasm," he begins. "Now, it is my pleasure to introduce to you, the most integral part of the Minutemen team. He's the new coach, a substitute here at Capeside ... Mitch Leery!" Amid applause and the occasional hoot and holler, Mitch takes the stage. He thanks the principal and the crowd, then begins introducing the team.
In the audience, Pacey, Joey and Andie watch the proceedings. "Personally, I think I've seen enough. What do you say we get out of here?" Pacey asks the girls. "I agree," Joey agrees quickly. Andie won't hear of it, though. "Uh, no. We're here, we're staying put."
Just then, Jack appears on stage in uniform. Joey's jaw drops. "Do you see what I see?" Mitch announces Jack's (unfortunate, in light of his newly-declared sexuality) position as wide receiver, and the crowd cheers loudly. Pacey glances from Andie to Joey. "When did this happen?" Joey shrugs. "News to me." Andie's eyes widen as she tries to fully comprehend the situation at hand. "Jen's a cheerleader and Jack's on the football team? ... I got sane and everybody else went crazy?
On stage, Mitch introduces the last member of the team, a first in Capeside history, "Starting quarterback, freshman Henry Parker!" From the back of the auditorium, Henry sprints down the aisle and up on stage, where he promptly trips, dropping the football he is carrying, and falls right into Jen. He's lovestruck from the first glance. Backing away from her like she's some sort of wild animal, all Henry can manage is a lame "I'm sorry" while Jen smiles, embarrassed for the both of them.
"It's okay, it's cool," she tells him as he reaches down for his football, accidentally coming up with her pom poms by mistake. "You got my pom poms, you know," she grins. He gives them back as the audience laughs. Mitch announces the team to the crowd and the celebration begins -- people cheer and clap, the band breaks into song, and a blizzard of streamers falls down.
In the audience, Pacey puts his arm around Andie's shoulder, a gesture she is visibly uncomfortable with. "Frisky much?" He grins devilishly. "Well, listening to you holler really does bad things to me. What do you say we scramola, huh?" Andie squirms. "Um, in a little bit." "Come on, McPhee," he coaxes, but she won't budge. "I said, in a little while."
Final straw. Pacey jumps up, grabbing Andie by the hand. "What are you doing?" she asks, surprised. "I want to talk to you and I'd really rather not do it in front of the whole school." He leaves the auditorium, Andie in tow, while Joey watches them, worried.
On stage, the hubbub has quietened down into a dull roar, as Mitch introduces the film Dawson spliced together. A hush fills the assembly, and a video screen descends as the movie begins. Behind the screen, Dawson peeks out at the crowd, listening and watching their reaction. Unbeknownst to him, Eve creeps up behind him and places her hands over his eyes.
"'The time has come,' the walrus said." (Will someone please enlighten me as to the origin of that line? Who the hell said it and what the hell it means? Because all I can think of is the Beatles' "I am the Walrus" and then I picture Eve on the cover of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and it's just not a pretty sight. Thank you.) Anyway, the origin of that line in this show is none other than Eve herself. And as for the meaning, well ... it's fairly obvious, isn't it?
It must be, because even Dawson catches her drift. "You don't mean now?" he asks, wide-eyed. She nods. "I pick the time and place, remember?" While Eve remains cool and unruffled, Dawson is coming apart at the seams. "Here? Right now? My video's playing!"
Eve rolls her eyes. "Which is, like, the lamest of the lamest excuses." He laughs uneasily. "Good point." Eve stares at Dawson much like a grizzly bear eyes the first meat of the season after hibernating all winter. "Dawson ... let's go," she whispers. Dawson swallows. "They say that girls like you don't exist."
"They lie." Eve grabs Dawson and pulls him out of the camera's range, but not before he grabs the package of condoms.
A passionate encounter of a different sort is taking place in the hallway. "Okay, Andie, what the hell is going on?" Pacey demands. "And don't tell me that it's nothing, because you've been acting strange from the second I picked you up from that clinic, and now I have to beg you to spend some free time with me! So what is happening?"
"We shouldn't talk about this here, Pacey," she urges. He looks at her coldly. "So, I'm right." "Look, this is not the time, okay?" Andie pleads, but it falls on deaf ears. "Is it me?" Pacey asks desparately. "Okay? Are you trying to end things? Is that what this is about?"
"No!" she tells him sharply. "That's the last thing I want!" "Fine," he sighs, happy to have resolved that much. "Then, what is so awful you've waited so long to tell me, Andie?" Her eyes begin to water. "A lot happened to me this summer, Pacey. A lot."
You can almost feel the chill going up his spine as he asks her what she means by that. Andie exhales, trying to collect her thoughts. "Okay. If we're going to talk about this now, then you have to promise me that you will not say one word until I'm done!" He agrees, but she insists he promise. Looking sombre, he says, "Okay, I promise ... Just tell me what's wrong."
The tears start to fall as Andie begins her story. "When I went to Mayfield to get better, I wasn't myself anymore. I wasn't the same person that came to Capeside. I wasn't the girl you fell in love with. My first week, I met Marc. And he had been through everything I had went through and more ... in and out of facilities three times ... on and off medication since he was nine ... I didn't write to you about him, because I didn't want you to get jealous -- we were just friends. We'd spend our free time together, just talking endlessly, mostly about our fears. I was so afraid, Pacey, afraid of everything. I was scared that they were never going to let me out of there ... or, that whatever was broken inside of me wouldn't be fixable. Marc ... he understood these things like nobody else could, because they were his fears too. He even had a girlfriend that he was anxious to get back to."
Pacey senses where this is going and cuts to the chase. "You slept with him?" All Andie can offer by way of comfort to Pacey is to tell him that she and Marc knew immediately afterwards that it was wrong, for both of them. "You slept with him, Andie." It's a statement now, not a question, as Pacey struggles with its implication, his voice cracking.
Andie tries to explain. "We decided to continue to just be friends and not tell our significant others but, Pacey ... when I saw you .. it was the biggest mistake of my life. And all I keep thinking right now is, what if you can't forgive me? Pacey, you have to forgive me. Please! You have to forgive me!" He scoffs derisively and storms off down the hall, while Andie continues to cry.
From crying to kissing ... Dawson and Eve are going at it with reckless abandon on stage behind the video screen. "There's hundreds of people on the other side of this screen," Dawson marvels breathlessly. "I know," the voyeur vixen beams. "Isn't it great?" True to form, the prude in Dawson comes out. "Isn't there a janitor's closet we could have snuck into?" he asks gingerly.
"Possibly," Eve replies provocatively, but continues to kiss him instead of pointing out where this closet could be. The two of them are so wrapped up in shedding their clothes that they fail to notice they've leaned against a panel of buttons, one of which controls the video screen. It raises slightly, exposing their feet and ankles to the crowd on the other side, then lowers back to its original position.
"What was that?" Dawson questions nervously. Eve pulls away from him for a moment. "What was waht?" she asks, puzzled. "That click," Dawson tells her. She shrugs it off. "Nothing." They resume their activities and once again accidentally raise the video screen, only this time it goes up all the way, revealing a bare-chested Dawson and a bra-clad Eve.
Suddenly, the people at the assemlby are treated to some action of a different kind -- instead of a couple of sweaty, heavy-breathing football players on celluloid, they get a couple of sweaty, heavy-breathing teenagers (well ... at least one teenager ... Eve's age is up for debate) in a real-life porno-in-the-making.
Hearing the wild cheers from the audience, Dawson tells Eve the clicking noise he heard this time was definitely not nothing. "Dawson, relax," she orders, almost annoyed at his jumpiness. Her frown is soon replaced with a grin, as she realizes the two of them are performing for a very appreciative public. "Don't turn around," Eve grins, enjoying the attention. Dawson stops in mid-kiss. "Why?"
Simultaneously, they turn and see an auditorium full of people who whistle, cheer, clap and shout at their performance. The band even begins to play the "Rocky" theme. Eve smiles, then grins, then breaks into laughter, completely unashamed to be standing in front of a room full of student and faculty members in her bra (then again, the girl is a stripper ...).
Dawson, meanwhile, searches frantically for a convienent hole in the ground in which to jump headfirst into. But after a moment or two of not quite knowing what to do with himself, he decides to just go with the flow and enjoy his newfound notoriety. He even grabs Eve's hand and they take a bow, acknowledging their adoring public.
Said public continues to heartily show its approval, with two notable exceptions. Firstly, Coach Mitch looks rather dismayed at his son's antics -- after all, not only is Dawson behaving in a grossly inappropriate manner ... he had the gall to interrupt his father's pep rally! But then Mitch's scowl softens, and he ends up smiling, nay, laughing at Dawson's behaviour. (Quite ridiculous, I thought. What kind of father would be proud of such behaviour?)
The second deviation from the cheering mob is a bit more understandable. All on her own, Joey stares icily at Dawson, a how-could-you-do-this? expression on her face. Dawson's chuckling and self-congratulatory manner comes to an abrupt halt when he meets her eyes.
After the pep rally, Eve and Dawson find themselves alone again. Eve asks Dawson if he's ready to go home, but he declines, saying he wants to catch a ride home with his father. (You see ... that's the difference between guys and girls -- after such a racy PDA, I would rather catch a ride home with Satan himself than hop in a car with my dad. But that's just me.)
"You don't wanna ... hang out?" Eve hints suggestively. Dawson swallows. "Part of me really, really wants to ..." he trails off. "But just part of you," she repeats. Dawson grows exasperated. "Eve, I don't know anything about you! I don't know where you come from, I don't know why you're here ... I don't even know your last name! All you are to me is sex, and if I slept with you that would be the reason."
While this might be a moral issue for Dawson, it doesn't faze Eve in the slightest. "You don't have to have a reason for sleeping with someone, Dawson. Either it's their body ... or their personality ... their money ... or their sense of humour. What's the difference?" "I guess the difference is the first time I sleep with somebody I don't want it to be for just any reason," he replies. "I want it to be for every reason."
Eve digests this for a minute, staring at him intensely. Finally, she has a confession of her own. "Your eyes." Dawson doesn't understand. "What about them?" "That was my reason," she explains. "When I first met you, I looked into your eyes and I saw such an old soul." Dawson gives her a tiny smile. "Thank you, Eve."
"Whitman ... thank you, Eve Whitman." She returns the smile, and Dawson's smile deepens. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'd give me your phone number?" As she walks away, Eve flashes a grin at him over her shoulder. "That one you'll have to earn."
"Well, I don't think we'll be attending any more pep rallies any time soon," Joey states the obvious to Pacey, as he pulls the police cruiser into her driveway. "Probably not," he replies through tight lips. She thanks him for the ride and gets an equally curt reply in response.
Studying Pacey's sullen form, Joey frowns. "Pacey, you probably don't want to hear this right now, and I'm sure you don't want to hear it from me, but ... you have to talk to her." "No. Not right now. I couldn't even look at her right now." "You have to, Pacey. You have to hear her out," Joey declares firmly. "Why?" he snorts. "What's the difference, Joey? Huh? No matter what she says, the ending's still the same -- she slept with somebody else."
Joey looks at him sadly. "You think that just because the two of you were together, what she did hurts more? It doesn't. There's no difference, Pacey, I mean ... Look," Joey sighs. "She's 16 years old and so are you. We talk like we know what's going on, but we don't. We don't have any idea! Look, we're really young and we're gonna screw up a lot. You know, we're going to keep changing our minds and ... and sometimes even our hearts. And through all of that, the only real thing we can offer each other is forgiveness. And I couldn't do that. Or, at least, I did it too late. Don't let yourself get so angry that you stop loving because ... one day you'll wake up from that anger and the person you love will be gone."
Capeside's new head cheerleader and star quarterback are walking through the halls after the aftermath of the pep rally. "I tell you, these fishnets itch," Jen grumbles, scratching her leg. Jack laughs. "I can't believe you're wearing them!" His laughter fades as he spies a familiar face down the hall. "Dad."
Mr. McPhee slowly walks up to the pair. "Hi, Jack ... Jen." Jen excuses herself immediately, leaving the father and son alone to talk. "Jen's grandmother called me," Mr. McPhee explains. "Said I should make my way down here tonight. I wasn't sure why, until I saw you up there. Congratulations."
Jack thanks him, but his father isn't finished quite yet. "Seeing you on that stage made me realize I was wrong. Jack, I honestly thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought living under my care would be too hard ... that there were too many differences between us. But when I saw you in that jersey ... for the first time in a while ... I saw myself in you."
His son doesn't entirely buy it. "Dad, it shouldn't take a football jersey to make you see that." (Quite right, but at least give the man a few points for making an effort and extending the olive branch) "You're right," Mr. McPhee acknowledges. "I would like very much for you to come home."
"Sorry, but no." Mr. McPhee nods. "No, I figured that would be the response ... but I needed to ask." Now Jack nods. "Thanks." His father smiles tersely at him, bids him goodnight, and turns to leave. Jack calls after him. "Night, Dad ... Dad?" Mr. McPhee stops. "Yeah?" "Ask me again some time." Mr. McPhee smiles at his son wordlessly.
The other member of the McPhee clan is having similar relationship rifts. Andie sits on a bench along the waterfront, a scene of many memories for her and Pacey. Just then, none other than Pacey himself approaches her. "I was hoping you'd find me here," she greets him sadly.
"To be honest, I told myself a thousand times not to come." Andie looks at him cautiously. "So why did you?" "Cause I owe you that much." He's hurt, angered, deeply disappointed, and understandably so. While Andie seems to understand that, she can't understand why the two of them can't just get past her indiscretion. "But I've already told you how sorry I am. What else can I say?" "There's nothing else to say."
She looks at him anxiously, the tears falling all over again. "So you don't think that you can forgive me?" "Whether or not I can forgive you, Andie, is not going to be what keeps us apart," Pacey explains flatly. "What you did ... Our relationship was like this beautiful thing, and I don't think you ever realized how powerful it was. You changed my life, Andie. You were that person for me. You inspired me to be a man that I had only ever dreamed about being. When you first started to get sick, it dawned on me that I might not be that person for you. I can never go back to loving you the way I did knowing that my love wasn't strong enough the first time around. I can always forgive you, Andie ... but I will never forget."
The betrayal and anguish he feels comes across loud and clear (as always, Josh is the strongest actor on the show). When their relationship began, Pacey was the unfocussed one and Andie was the control-freak. She motivated him to find out who he really was, and what he was capable of. But when she came undone, he expected to return the favour and he couldn't, through no fault of his own. Andie's problems were too deep-seated, too complicated, and she needed to retreat from the world and figure it all out by herself. As much as it hurt Pacey, it wasn't intentional neglect, and despite whatever errors in judgment she may have made, it doesn't negate the fact that she still cares for him deeply. "But I still love you, Pacey ..."
Obviously, Pacey can only see it from his own perspective. He feels doubly wounded, once from her shutting him out and twice for her sleeping with someone else. It was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment mistake, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. He does the only thing he feels he can do, given the situation -- he turns and walks away, for good. "Goodbye, Andie."
Pacey and Andie aren't the only Capeside couple who have reached a turning point in their relationship this evening. As Mitch and Dawson enter their home, Mitch notices Joey sitting alone on the docks. He points her out to Dawson, who walks over to her slowly, a horrendously bad cover version of Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time playing in the background.
"Hey." "Hey." "What are you doing here?" "I'm not sure," Joey responds truthfully. "Your house is like magnetic North. Certain nights, it just ... it draws me in. While you were gone this summer, there were days I would just get in my boat and come riding past your dock ... For old times sake, I guess."
A long, heavy silence ensues. Dawson sits down beside her and finally speaks. "We can't go back, Joey." "I know." Another stillness settles in, and it is several moments before she continues. "It's that expression, isn't it? You can't go home again. I realized it for a while, but earlier tonight ..."
"I'm sorry you had to see that." Joey smiles sadly at him. "Don't be. I think I was meant to. In some weird way, it helped me. Seeing you on that stage, something inside of me clicked, and ... for the first time I felt how wrong it would be. I mean we ... we really do need to move on, and to meet new people, and to have new relationships."
It's a sad realization, but one that is achingly true. While Dawson and Joey know they are "right" for each other, it doesn't mean they are right for each other right now. So, in order to save whatever future they may have, they have to sacrifice the present, no matter how hard that may be to do. They may find each other somewhere down the line (this being a TV show, you know they probably will), or they may not, but in the here and now, they need to let go. For both their own good.
Dawson sighs. "It's weird how that happens, isn't it? You still love the person ... you just stop needing them like you used to." "Yeah," she nods. "It's weird and ... it's kinda sad." Another pregnant pause. "So, we're friends ... and then we're a couple ... then friends again ... then a couple. So ... what are we now?" Joey asks.
"We're Dawson and Joey." They exchange a small smile, then Dawson removes the leather chain he always wears, and places it around Joey's neck. It's a bittersweet gesture, one that cements her place in the centre of his heart, no matter which Jens, Devons, Eves, or other temporary occupants may come along.
She touches the necklace briefly, then gives him her patented lopsided grin. "Do you think every Joey has a Dawson and every Dawson has a Joey?" He meets her eyes and returns the look. "I hope so ... for their sake." They sit there silently side-by-side, thinking about everything and thinking about nothing as we ...
Fade to black ...