"And then can we have sex?" Eve asks bluntly. Dawson gapes at her, half-smiling. "I'm not ruling that out ... I'm just, you know ... first things first. Movie night, we're supposed to watch movies." Eve shrugs. "I prefer TV."
To Dawson, this is the ultimate sacrilege. "You've got to be kidding!" he chides her, outraged. "Actually, no." She leans forward, concentrating on the images on the screen, completely oblivious to the temper tantrum Mr. Leery is throwing beside her. "This isn't an art form, this is just the padding between beer commercials!" he fumes.
Eve rolls her eyes. "Don't be such a snob, Dawson. I mean, a TV show is just like a movie, except shorter, and with built-in bathroom breaks. And you get a new sequel every week." "Sequels I hate on principle," Dawson insists. "Suit yourself," Eve tells him. "I'm hooked."
On-screen, Ben stares at Felicity in that dumb way he does so well. "When you read my paper, how bad was it?" "It wasn't bad ..." she replies, as Dawson hurls himself backwards on the bed, and delivers possibly the biggest double entendre / in-joke / tongue-in-cheek self-deprecating speech of the show's entire three season run so far.
"Take Felicity for example," he splutters. "I mean, if you've seen one hour of whiny, over-analytical teen angst, you've seen them all. Don't get me wrong, she's pretty, but what kind of a heroine is she? She's indecisive, she's basically ... paralyzed ... by some romantic notion of the way things are supposed to be ... and if you ask me, she's kind of chatty."
"She's you." Eve replies simply. Dawson doesn't see it, so she repeats herself. "She's you, Dawson. Except she's in college and a girl, and ..." "... a fictional character on a TV show?" he finishes for her. "Exactly," Eve agrees, straddling him on the bed and cupping his face in her hands. As far as she's concerned, the discussion has gone on long enough and now it's time to settle down to the fine art of seduction. "Think about it, you're straight out of central casting. Perfect hair, perfect skin ... our hero."
"Obviously you weren't watching last season, it was far from perfect," he smiles sardonically up at her. "Which is, in general, my complaint about television. It's not reality, it's perfection. I mean, nobody ever blows it in any real way, or makes the wrong choice or a bad choice or ..." He begins to get flustered as she climbs over him, cutting off his words and snapping off the remote.
"Don't you know that's where I come in?" Eve purrs in her best porn queen voice. "You know ... second season. Shake things up. Screw the status quo." "Ah, a temptress who will test our hero's moral fibre," Dawson grins, as Eve pushes him down on his bed and lies beside him, propped up on an elbow. "Will he survive unscathed? Stay tuned." "Know what else I hate about television?" Dawson continues to grin as he pulls her towards him. "They always cut to commercial at the best part." Which of course, they do, right at that very point.
At the Potter household, Joey's alarm clock goes off and rouses her out of bed. She wakes up, already fully dressed, and gets out of bed instantly. Next we see her running down the hall at school, pounding on the door where her classmates are silently taking the PSATs. Joey knocks frantically on door, trying to get Dawson's attention, but he's oblivious to her cries. Suddenly, the school bell rings, but its tone soon changes to an alarm clock, and we're back to the Potter household again, where Joey gets up for real this time.
At the McPhee residence, Andie's already up and in, typical Andie fashion, in the middle of doing three things at once to maximize her morning minutes. Prominently wearing a Harvard sweatshirt, SuperGirl is doing sit-ups, watching the morning news, and practicing her PSAT vocab words using flash cards.
On her television, the news anchorwoman is conveniently in the middle of a story about preparing for the PSATs. She holds up a book heralded as the best of its kind to prepare for the test. "One step ahead of you, baby!" Andie says with great satisfaction to her TV screen, holding up the very same book in her living room while continuing to do sit-ups. "Dogmatic," she announces to herself, (actually, describing herself, too). "Synonyms? Single-minded, stubborn, obstinate, adamant. Antonyms would be ..."
" ... Wishy washy, ambivalent, ummm ... equivocal," Jen recites to an impressed Jack as they leave the house for school. "What, you thought that Dawson was the only one with such a prolific vocabulary?" "No," Jack quips. "I just didn't think you had time to study with your newfound extracurricular activities." "Easy tiger," Jen grins, grabbing the very same kind of flash cards Andie was using out of Jack's hands. "You haven't won that football scholarship yet! Okay, your turn. Pick a card, any card."
Jack chooses 'nonchalant.' "Okay. The synonyms would be ... carefree, languid ... oblivious!" On the word oblivious, the camera suddenly cuts to Pacey, happily asleep in his very messy bed in his very messy room.
At school, Principal Green is leading the juniors in a PSAT refresher course in the library. The word 'nonchalant' is displayed on an overhead projector. "Okay, good. Now, antonyms," he asks the students, honing in on Dawson.
Of course, if there's one person in the Capeside High junior class who is familiar with vocabulary, it's Dawson Leery. "Alert, attentive, concerned," he rattles off, as if reciting his phone number. Then, deciding to go for extra credit, Dawson informs Principal Green and the rest of his classmates that this only holds true if you believe the PSAT is "a true measure of intelligence and not a culturally-biased weapon against the poor and disenfranchised."
"Good point, Dawson," Principal Green nods. "Standardized testing isn't perfect. In fact, some might say that it's designed to trip you up, mess with your mind ... generally convince you that you aren't as smart as you think you are. But if you want to go to college, it's the only game in town."
The bell rings and the students begin to scatter, but the principal isn't finished speaking yet. "All right, hang on, hang on. Now look, don't forget, tomorrow, sample math section! I need you to bring a number two pencil and your brains, both of them sharpened, thank you very much!" he booms. Joey is in the process of leaving when the principal spots her and calls after her to hang on a moment.
Outside the library, Andie and Pacey collide in the halls because she's too busy reading her flash cards to watch where she is going. She crashes headfirst into Pacey, and her study cards flutter all over the floor. As Andie and Pacey both bend down to pick them up at the same time, they knock their heads together again.
"Don't worry, Pacey," she tells him as they pick up the scattered cards. "This isn't going to be one of those horribly awkward hope boy didn't mean all those hurtful things he said during the break-up moments." "Well, that's a relief," he replies sarcastically. "Cause I sure don't wanna play the guy feels guilty about break-up even though it was girl who had an affair with the mental patient scene."
"Fair enough," comes her short reply. Pacey studies the flash cards a moment, then frowns. "Not that it's any of my business any more, Andie, but have you ever heard of over-preparing for a test?" This, of course, puts her in a huff and on the defensive. "What, as opposed to not preparing at all?" she snaps. "As opposed to making yourself crazy over something with the word 'practice' in front of it," he clarifies.
Andie is appalled. "If you want to throw away everything we've --" she corrects herself, "-- I mean, you've worked for, that's fine by me. Me, on the other hand, I am not going to let our little bump in the road throw me off my chosen course. See you around!" She leaves then, a little too cheerfully for Pacey's liking, who remains cross-legged on the hall floor, thinking.
Back in the library, Principal Green has cornered Joey for a little heart-to-heart. "You keep your wits about you Joey, and you've got a legitimate shot at a National Merit Scholarship!" he enthuses. She blushes a little but looks mildly perturbed. "Yeah. So everyone keeps telling me ... and telling me ... and telling me."
"Too much pressure on you, huh?" he asks sympathetically. Joey nods. "I couldn't sleep again last night," she confesses. "I just keep thinking if I don't ace this exam I'm going to end up making beds and cleaning toilets at the Dead-End Motel for the rest of my life."
He chuckles. "Listen. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to take the night off, just to relax. Hang out with a friend ... rent a movie ... You're gonna do just fine," the principal smiles warmly at her. "You're gonna do better than fine. The faculty and I have all the confidence in the world in you." Joey smiles and nods at him, at first a bit hesitantly, but eventually a bit more confidently.
In the hall, she approaches Dawson at his locker. They exchange pleasantries, and after an initial awkwardness, she asks him for a favour. "Um ... since we've agreed to peace with honour, would it be against the rules to ask for your help?" "Of course not," he smiles. "Good," she answers, "Cause I could use some."
"What do you need?" Dawson asks softly. Joey exhales deeply. "I dunno, a night of mindless entertainment ... Jurassic Park, or maybe one of those meteorite, asteroid, atomic bomb movies where Bruce Willis or George Clooney or someone with a receding hairline somehow manages to save the whole planet without breaking a sweat," she sighs. "I just need something to take my mind off the test."
"You've got a lot riding on it, I know," Dawson sympathizes. She manages an uneasy smile. "Just my entire future." Dawson looks at her warmly. "Tell me when and where." Relieved, Joey's half-smile turns into one of her patented lopsided grins. "How about tonight?"
Just then, an annoying little blonde walks up and interrupts our favourite couple's happy repartee. "Hey, sports fans," Eve sing-songs in the most irritating of voices. Dawson turns to face her, but Joey grabs his arm. "How's nine o'clock?" she asks quickly, trying to stake her claim before Eve sinks her claws into Dawson for the night. "Uh, it's just ... tonight ... she and I were thinking that ... um ..." His guilt sets in. "Why don't you come with us?"
"Yeah, I might ..." Joey begins reasonably, then her voice turns acerbic. "... On another planet, in a different universe." She looks at Eve and half smirks. "No offense." As Joey walks off in a huff, Eve looks at Dawson, surprised. "What was that about?" she marvels. Dawson doesn't answer her, he just stands at his locker looking mildly miserable and utterly torn.
Out on the football field, the team, under Mitch's ever-watchful tutelage, are practicing their drills. Coach Leery has suddenly turned into Mike Ditka. "I'd appreciate some contact, people! Come up off the ground! Put some hurt on!" he shouts at his players, then turns his attention to his star wide receiver. "You're up, McPhee!"
"All right, Jack, you can do this," Quarterback Henry shouts encouragement from the sidelines. "Just remember when you're hit, button up. Become fetal. Hug that ball." Henry thrusts the ball into Jack's chest. "Hug that ball!" Hugging that ball, Jack tries to run through the maze of players, and gets pummeled in the process. He is knocked flat to the ground.
"How'd it hit, baby! How'd it hit!" Mitch hollers, slapping helmets as he jogs up to Jack. "Get up, McPhee, you're defacing the landscape. Again." Jack slowly pulls himself to his feet, wobbling a little bit. "Come on, coach!" Jack tells him. "Can't you see what's going on here? They're singling me out." "Yeah," Mitch concedes, "But not for the reasons you think."
"Gimme a break! It's obvious," Jack bristles, but Mitch begs to differ. "Look, Jack, gay or straight, you are still the new kid on the block and you're not protecting football the way you should. Now, do it again!" He jogs away, barking a play call at Jack. "McPhee! Three point stand!"
A shrill whistle blast follows, and in slo-mo, Jack is yet again crushed in another full body tackle. Henry rushes over, and with the rest of the team, crowds around him on the ground. "Can you hear me, Jack? Jack, do you know where you are?" Henry sticks up three fingers and waves them in front of Jack's face. "How many fingers?" he quizzes. The Minutemen's star wide receiver's eyes flutter a few times as he surveys the crowd huddled in front of him. Finally, he speaks. "I think I'm gonna hurl."
Over at the marina, Joey's boss, Rob, fills her in on his supreme studliness by recounting the dating tips he has given a fellow worm. "I mean this guy isn't exactly what you'd call a ladies man," Rob begins, "But I tell him, it is easy. There's only one rule, plain and simple: Give the ladies what they want." "How about giving me what I want, Rob?" Joey asks with a small smile. Rob grins back lasciviously. "I thought you'd never ask."
Her answer is sure to deflate his ego, among other things. "Friday night off. So I can study for the PSATs. They're Saturday." But much to Joey's surprise, Rob handles the request well. "Yeah, sure, why not. No sweat," he replies. "I remember what it was like. Course, I didn't take the PSATs."
"What, daddy built the university?" she asks dryly, but the humour goes over his head. "No, no, just endowed it. Actually, I hired a ringer." Joey's face registers disbelief. "Seriously!" Rob continues. "I paid some brainiac a couple thousand dollars to take it for me." A note of pride creeps into his voice. "Won me a scholarship, too."
Joey's very unimpressed, but tries to be appreciative, nonetheless. "Well, since I don't have that kind of cash ... thank you. I owe you one." In typical rich-boy fashion, Rob uses her gratitude against her, seizing it as an opportunity for her to repay the favour. "Here's a thought," he suggests. "You let me take you out for a post-PSAT celebration. Saturday night, you and me."
"Uhhh, thanks ... but, um, my husband doesn't really like me seeing other people," she jokes, trying to take the edge off an awkward situation. "Oh, sure," Rob smiles. "I thought you were going to say you had to wash your hair." "No, that's Wednesdays," Joey grins. "Actually Rob, the truth is, ... I'm a lesbian." "Hmmm," he grins lecherously. "Anyone I know?"
In spite of herself, Joey smiles and shakes her head. Rob smiles, too. "So is it a date?" he asks eagerly. "Saturday night, what do you say?" Joey looks uncomfortable. "Would it be all right if I just said no?" she asks delicately. To her (and our) amazement, Rob takes the rejection like a gentleman. "Yeah, sure thing, Potter. No problem."
Later that evening Dawson sits in his room, presumably studying, but he appears to be more preoccupied with his open window, which he glances over at from his bed every few minutes as if expecting someone. Magically, a red apple appears on the windowsill. He laughs. "I was starting to worry about you." Eve pops into view, smiling provocatively. "I was searching for the perfect apple. Go ahead, take a bite ... see if it tastes as good as it looks."
It's the '90s version of the one of the oldest stories in the Bible, only if Dawson bites the forbidden fruit, it won't be all of mankind who will fall from grace ... only he himself. "And if I do?" Dawson matches her wicked smirk with one of his own. Eve replies that if he does, he will forever know the difference between good and evil. (excuse me, he doesn't need to chomp on a Red Delicious to discover you're a conniving trollop, Eve!)
Our reluctant hero wavers inside his room, unsure of what to do next, when Eve demands he come out on to the roof with her and enjoy the beautiful night. He does, but the action brings back memories. "I haven't been out here since .. Joey and I," he finishes softly. "Joey? You mean the ubiquitous brunette? The one who hasn't yet learned the power and sway she holds over the hearts of men?" Eve asks with a raised eyebrow. Dawson grins. "She lives down the creek," he explains. "She used to sleep over all the time, before we developed secondary sexual characteristics."
"I had a boy next door." "You did?" Dawson inquires, surprised. Eve smiles. "Doesn't everybody?" Dawson asks his name. "Monroe," Eve sighs. "We literally lived in adjoining houses on the base." "You're a military brat?" Dawson asks incredulously, thrilled at uncovering another miniscule crumb of personal information about her.
Eve laughs. "U.S. Army, born and bred." Eve's eyes lock with Dawson's. "Matter of fact, we used to sneak into each other's bedrooms." Dawson smiles awkwardly. "Must have been ... convenient," he offers. "No kidding," Eve nods seriously. "Only problem is ... he was my dad's commanding officer." The smile on Dawson's face freezes at that moment as he tries to figure out if she's telling the truth or not.
"I brought you something else," she says, producing a large manilla envelope. Dawson looks at it blankly. "What is this?" "Call it a study aid," she smiles. Suddenly, recognition crosses his face. "That is not ..." "Oh, it is," Eve replies, very pleased with herself. "An advance copy of Saturday's PSAT." Suddenly, the humour and banter they were sharing has evaporated, and Dawson becomes terse. "Why are you showing this to me?" he questions.
"Well, I was planning on giving it to you," Eve suggests, but he won't hear of it. "There's no way I could do that," Dawson balks. Again, Eve is disappointed with his wholesomeness. "Don't be so selfish, Dawson. I mean, if it goes against your moral code, fine, but surely there must be someone you know who could use it." She thrusts the envelope into his hands as he stares at it silently. "The apple is a metaphor ... this is the real thing."
The next day at school, Dawson's called a conference with his nearest and dearest to discuss Eve's little gift. "An envelope? This is why you covertly hushed us up into a corner?" Pacey says, shaking his head. "Pacey," Joey hisses. "Read the fine print. It says ETS, as in, Educational Testing Service?" Jen stares at them, mildly shocked. "Dawson, this is not what I think this is?" "Think again," Dawson tells her grimly.
All Andie has to offer to the conversation is an anxious "Oh God," while Jack asks how Dawson got the envelope in the first place. "Does it matter?" comes the reply. "Of course it matters!" Andie insists. "When we're all incriminated and sent to federal prison, I'd like to know just who I'm taking the rap for!" Dawson sighs. "Someone gave it to me," he tells them mysteriously.
"A certain someone with blonde locks and a name that rhymes with Steve?" Joey interjects, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Ohhh, she's good," Pacey laughs, "I like that girl! She's good!" Joey isn't as enthused. "Once again, Dawson Leery proves the groin is mightier than the brain," she sneers.
Jen tries to quell the oncoming argument. "Well, have you looked inside?" she asks. "I mean, it could be a joke -- anyone could just whip up a label." Pacey rubs his hands together gleefully. "Well, there's only one way to find out!" He begins to pick up the envelope until Andie stops him. "Oh, go ahead, Pacey," she says breezily. "Way to complete your return to the halls of academic loserdom."
He glares at his former girlfriend contemptuously. "Maybe you'd like to open it up Andie, I mean, after all, cheating seems to be an activity you're real comfortable with these days." It's now Jack's turn to play peacemaker and quell the oncoming argument. "Look, nobody's opening up anything. Dawson, just bring it back to where you got it and none of us ever saw it."
Jen can't believe her ears. "Jeez! Not to sound like the only typical high schooler here, but apparently, as the only typical high school student ... whats the harm in peeking?" "Peeking?" Pacey scoffs. "I can have us a detailed crib sheet in half an hour!"
"Guys, look, admittedly my first reaction was to dump it," Dawson confesses. "But ... you heard Principal Green, I mean, these things are a game. And as wrong as cheating sounds, I thought I'd bring it up to you guys for discussion." "Okay, morals to Dawson, come in, Dawson?" Joey glares. "This is wrong! Besides, it's the PSAT -- no one's even required to take it, let alone do well."
Dawson pushes the envelope towards Joey. "Unless you want to qualify for a National Merit Scholarship." Jen takes the envelope from Joey and pushes it towards Jack. "Or unless you've been too busy getting the crap beaten out of you to study." Jack pushes the envelope towards Andie. "Or, if you really want to go to Harvard." Andie smirks and pushes the envelope towards Pacey. "Or, if a failed relationship has put you through the emotional wringer and you just don't care these days." Pacey smirks and pushes the envelope towards Dawson. "Or, if you've just been too darn busy getting busy."
Dawson sighs. "The point is, we could all use it for something." The group look at each other covertly, but their game of Scruples is interrupted by an order from Principal Green. "All right, people! Let's take our seats. One sample math section coming your way!" Just then a bell rings, only it isn't a class bell, it's the fire alarm. "On second thought, leave everything exactly where it is and file out in an orderly fashion," the principal instructs.
Dawson looks hesitantly at the envelope on the table. "Mr. Leery? Now, please." "Okay," Dawson nods gingerly. Slowly, he exits the room, leaving the sealed envelope still on the table. He joins the rest of the school outside, and stands next to a guy who looks like Snoop Doggy Dogg's little brother. (I only mention this because the guy looked jarringly out of place amid the sea of walking advertisements for J Crew and The Gap).
Afterwards, when Dawson and company re-enter the test room, the notorious envelope has vanished. "It's gone," Dawson says lamely, frantically looking around the area. "What's gone?" Joey questions. "It." "Very funny," she notes, while looking under the table. "I already checked," Dawson tells her. "You just left it here?" Jack asks disbelievingly, but Dawson replies he had no choice as Principal Green was hovering over him.
"Okay, I took it," Jen quips, just to lighten the mood. No one laughs. "Aaaaaaah! Joking. Good God," she mutters, rolling her eyes. Dawson turns to Pacey hopefully. "Please tell me that you circled round and saved all our lives?" His best friend shakes his head. "Uh uh," Pacey smiles. "Uh uh, as it isn't missing, or uh-uh as in, you don't have it?" Dawson asks.
"Both ... neither," Pacey replies with a laugh. "I really don't even know what you guys are talking about ..." "Pacey, will you quit screwing around?" Andie tells him sharply. "Oh, I am not screwing around, Andie," he replies venomously. "I am just as upset as you are. Dismayed. Even broken hearted --"
Principal Green comes back in just then, and tries to corral the students again so they can begin the review. Noticing the little sextet debating in the corner while the other students are sitting quietly, he approaches them. "Ah, the McLaughlin Group, right here in Capeside! (for some reason, that line just cracked me up) He asks them what their topic of debate is this afternoon: "Let me guess -- Why is the PSAT not an oral exam? Well, unfortunately, boys and girls, you're on your own on this one, so let's do me a favour and get back to it, independently, okay?" Slowly and quietly, the group of six disperse to their seats.
Later that afternoon at work, Joey is daydreaming on the job, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the PSAT and college and cheating and Dawson, no doubt, and probably not in that order. As she continues to fill the tank of a small boat, the gasoline overflows and spills out into the water. Rob rushes over to reprimand her. "Joey! What the hell? What do you think you're doing?"
"It was a mistake, calm down," she mutters defensively. Rob appologizes to the boat's owners, explaining that Joey is new there, and that their gas is on the house. "You didn't have to do that. I filled the tank. So I spilled a little, it's not exactly the Exxon Valdez," Joey scowls, but Rob doesn't care. "That 38 dollars is coming out of your paycheque, Potter" he informs her, adding that her precious night off is cancelled.
"What?" Joey says in disbelief. "You heard me," he tells her calmly. "You're working tomorrow night." "Ah, so that's how it's going to be?" Joey's eyes flash angrily as she smiles at him glacially. "This isn't about me messing up on the job, this is about your bruised little ego. You're not used to female rejection, are you Rob?" "I have no idea what you're talking about, Potter" he replies coolly.
"Damn, Jen!" Jack is standing shirtless in the Ryans' bathroom while Jen tries to wind an Ace bandage around his bruised chest. "Try not to make any sharp movements, all right? she instructs. "It's hard to have one with a certain pain striking my chest cavity," he mutters. "I thought that you guys wore pads out there," Jen comments. "Yeah, well, I must have worn the placebo pads," Jack replies sourly.
"At least you can maintain your sense of humour through all this," Jen laughs. Jack helps her tuck in the bandage. "Yeah," he adds, "until that gets beaten out of me, too. Tomorrow I'm turning in my helmet." Jen is dismayed. "Jack, you can't!" "Yeah?" he insists. "Watch me."
Jen tries the reverse psychology approach. "All right, my friend, you want to be a quitter, go right ahead, be a quitter." "Okay, Ward. Uh, I'm not Beaver Cleaver and we're not in black-and-white here?" Jack tells her testily. "And no half-assed lame attempt at reverse psychology is gonna stop me from preventing my corpse from being carried off that field."
"All right, all right," Jen replies quickly. "Mock the sentiment, but you can't deny the truth. When you quit something, you're telling yourself that you're not good enough." Frustrated, Jack stares at her. "Oh, okay," he begins semi-sarcastically. "So, what you're saying is, what I learn out there on the gridiron about sacrifice and pain will be of infinite value later on in life? And if I quit now, I will most surely quit in the more important contest in the future?"
"Exactly," Jen says gently. "Yeah, well, I'm quitting!" Jack insists. Jen sighs. "Okay, smartass, how about this for a reason," she begins. "You caught the ball. Now, call me corny, call me superstitious, but Fate tossed you that ball, Jack. Who knows why, but it did. Maybe you're meant to be a well-known gay athlete who inspires others to come to terms with who they are. Maybe you're meant to help this school actually win a few games and develop a sense of morale. Or maybe this is just the first step in meeting someone else in a similar situation. You don't know the reason, but ... until you do? Hang on to that ball."
Jack studies her closely. "That was cheesier than your first response," he mutters, albeit good-naturedly. Jen grins, Ace bandage still in hand. "Hmmm ... never talk back to someone who could cut off your air supply."
Late that evening, Dawson and Eve have snuck into the school library at night to try and locate the missing envelope, and are walking around the darkened room with the aid of a flashlight. "You're wasting your time, Dawson," Eve gently reprimands, sitting on a chair while he frantically searches the room. "It's got to be here somewhere. Could you at least pretend to help me save my ass?"
Eve gives him an appreciative once-over. "Well, it is a cute ass, but ..." "But what?" he mutters exasperatedly. "But we don't have a chance in hell to find what you're looking for," Eve replies simply. "How do you know that?" Dawson tells her. "The test was on this table one minute, the next minute it's gone. Obviously, it has to have gone somewhere --"
Just then, the dynamic duo hear noises in the hallway. "Someone's coming! Kill the light," Eve hisses as they duck under a table for cover. The library door opens, and a fat, slow-witted-looking security guard (aren't they all?) walks in. He shines a flashlight right over the two of them, but, typically, ignores what's right under his nose and walks on by.
Dawson and Eve continue talking in hushed voices. "Question -- what would look better on my high school transcripts: a) cheating, b) possession of stolen materials, c) breaking and entering, or d) all of the above?" The security guard exits the room. "Let's get out of here," Eve urges. "Besides, if you really want that exam back, it shouldn't be too difficult."
Dawson is confused. "What do you mean?" Eve looks at him as if he's a child. "It didn't disappear, Dawson ... somebody took it." "How do you know that?" he asks. She shrugs. "Call it female intuition." Her accusation prompts Dawson to do what he does best -- go deep into denial mode. "If you're right, it could have been anybody. There were dozens of kids in that room when the alarm went off."
Eve shakes her head. "Process of elimination. Of those kids, how many kids knew what was in that envelope?" Dawson replies five, six including himself. "Who would steal something they didn't know the value of?" she continues. "See my point? Face it, Dawson ... in the privacy of their own room, one of your friends is right now slipping their fingers between the pages and breaking the seal."
Apparently, whomever that friend is, we're led to believe he or she got busted, because the next scene is of the Super Six taking the heat in Principal Green's office. "One month into my tenure here as principal at Capeside High, and I got a national cheating scandal on my hands!" he fumes, sounding much like Kramer's lawyer Jackie Chiles on Seinfeld. "Look, it makes no difference if one of you takes the fall for this or you all go down together in some sort of grand gesture of teenage loyalty, but somebody better 'fess up and better 'fess up soon! Otherwise, you are all expelled!"
Without warning, Joey rises. Dawson gapes at her, flabbergasted. "Joey?" She flashes him a confident smile, and strides over to the fire alarm switch on the wall. Lifting the lever, the alarm goes off. Joey turns to the group and smiles peacefully as the bell reverberates shrilly throughout the school. But after a moment, the clanging fire bell morphs into a ringing alarm clock. We're in the Potter household again as Joey wakes up with a start. She switches off the clock and runs a hand over her face, not quite sure if she's been dreaming or not.
Later that day, the group have reassembled in the library to discuss the situation at hand. "So what kind of black market booty do you have for us today, Dawson?" Joey needles. "Just happen to find out what Microsoft will be trading at tomorrow?" Dawson ignores her taunts. "Look, I called you guys here because I wanted to give you all -- to give us all -- a chance to rectify the situation. Whoever stole the test needs to give it back."
"Well, wasn't it already stolen, Dawson?" Jen clarifies. "I love the way that this girl thinks!" Pacey pipes up. Dawson's not up for quibbling. "The point is, it's missing," he tells his friends. "Yesterday, it wasn't." "So what's the harm in just letting it be lost?" Joey asks.
"I agree," Jack says. "Whoever needed it was no more desperate than the rest of us, only quicker." Andie is outraged. "Doesn't it bother anyone what this says about our group's level of integrity?" "Well, I think I speak for 'our group' when I respond with a hearty no," Pacey replies sarcastically. Jen rolls her eyes. "I'm starting to feel like some psychologically abused lab rat." "You're not the lab rat," Joey corrects. "Dawson is." Dawson glares at her malevolently. "Watch it, Joey."
She won't though. Joey's had it. "Throwing parties ... crashing boats ... upstaging marching bands ... Dawson, if your rope was anymore yanked, you'd be a church bell." "Joey, Eve has nothing to do with this," Dawson insists as Pacey stifles a laugh behind him. "Oh, no," Joey insists mockingly. "It's typical Dawson Leery behaviour to offer your friends contraband. Once again, Dawson defends his new lady love's virtue. "Eve didn't tell me to do anything with that test!"
"You are so blinded by her cover girl looks, you wouldn't even notice if she did!" Joey shakes her head incredulously. "I bet when she handed you that test you didn't fire one ethical comment her way, did you? It's just your friends who have to sit here and suffer through the Dawson Leery morality play. Bleach blonde ho-bags willing to put out need not audition." "Are you finished?" he snaps. Joey stares at him plaintively, wholly unfazed by his biting tone. "I could go on."
Dawson doesn't want to go on, he wants to address the issue at hand. "Look, I'm sorry I brought you all into this, but one of us has taken this charade to another level. Here's the deal. I'm going to leave my locker unlocked. Whoever has the test will put it inside by my locker by 5:30 today," he instructs. "Come on, Dawson!" Pacey responds. "The petty thief among us has already left the crime scene. They're not going to return that thing now -- what's the incentive?" "To do the right thing," Dawson replies bluntly.
After the group disperses, Andie corners Pacey in the hall. "You got a second? It's important, Pacey." "Sure," he mutters and follows her into an empty classroom. "You know, Andie, I'm really not in the mood for some sordid heart-to-heart today, so if we could just cut this thing short?" he begins, but before he can go any further, Andie pushes a small green wooden box his way. "Consider this final negotiations," she announces.
"What's this?" Andie tells him to look for himself, but when he does, he isn't pleased with what he finds. "That's some t-shirts ... my Panthers cap ..." He rummages through the contents of their relationship in disbelief. Suddenly, one object in particular catches his eye. "Dumbo?" Pacey holds up the stuffed elephant from the Disney movie they both treasure so dearly. "This is the first thing that I ever gave to you."
She nods matter-of-factly. "Everything you've ever given me is in this box. All the pictures, CDs, jewelery ... it's all there." He's taken aback. "You don't think this is a little harsh?" Andie shakes her head. "Pacey, this isn't going to be one of those long, drawn-out break-ups. You're not dealing with the basketcase you met last year. I have my life in order, and I intend on doing everything I can to keep it that way. I have a plan."
Pacey sneers at her almost contemptuously. "Right. Harvard, Harvard, Uber Altus." (I dabbled in Latin in high school (yes, I'm that old) and roughly translated, that means 'the most noble' or 'the most high.' He's basically insulting her by insinuating she's a snob for choosing Harvard.)
Andie regards him coolly. "I wanted you to be a part of it, but if you can't, you get nothing." Suddenly, the reality of it sinks in and smacks Pacey full in the face. "Not even memories?" he says in a quiet voice, holding up a photo of the two of them. "Especially not those." Her finality and indifference gets his back up, and suddenly his sadness switches to anger. "Fine. If those are the terms, where do I sign?" he asks coldly. She returns Pacey's icy gaze, her eyes never wavering. "You just did." And with that, Andie leaves the room and leaves his life.
On the gridiron, Jack is practicing under the watchful eye of Henry. "All right, Jackieboy! Hit, hit, hit! Work, work, work!" Jack stops, exhausted. Henry watches him a moment. "You know what you need? A mantra. A private word or sound -- everyone's got one." Jack looks confused and amused. "Really? What for?" H
Henry explains it's something to focus on, to take his mind off the fact that he's about to be anhiliated. "Seriously, Jack, anything to stop from thinking. In this sport, thought equals death." (So, Henry's just confirmed something I've always believed to be true ... football players don't have a thought in their heads.)
Jack's eyes narrow. "Let me ask you something. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" "That's easy," Henry replies cheerfully. "Two reasons. First, I wanna win football games. Without your magic hands, we don't stand a chance. And two is ... well ... you're gay, right? I mean, it's not supposed to be a secret or anything?"
"No," Jack confirms. "Why the sudden interest in my sexual orientation?" Henry shifts uncomfortably. "Well, there's this girl ... that you know," he begins, "More like an angel, really, or a goddess ..." Jack smiles, highly amused. "Who?"
Henry ignores the question and continues his soliloqy, his voice growing more excited with every word. "I dream about her, Jack, every night ... heavy dreams about her lips ... her breasts ... her legs ... if she would just allow me near her, to smell her sweet smell, maybe even kiss me, or take me in her arms ... deliver me from every falsehood and it would prove that there wasn't anything bad or empty-hearted in this world that couldn't be corrected. See how bad I am? You got help me, Jack, I'm begging you!"
Slow realization dawns on Jack's face. "You're not talking about who I think you're talking about?" Henry looks flustered. "A certain head cheerleader?" he comments gingerly. Jack gapes at him. "Jen Lindley?" He cracks up, then contains himself sufficiently enough to continue. "Word to the wise, and this is no reflection on you, Henry, at all, but ... you're a freshman. You have about as much chance with Jen Lindley as I have about making it through that shute tomorrow." He continues to laugh heartily as Henry looks discouraged.
Over at Logan's Marina, Joey's PSAT studying is interrupted by a customer, or, at least what she thinks is a customer. "I'll be there in a minute!" She gets up from the office desk and goes out to the dock, where Pacey is repeatedly hitting a service bell with a gas tank hose and nozzle. She regards him contemptuously. "No loitering, Pacey." He ignores her and continues to hit the bell with the hose. "I am a legitimate customer and I demand some service, Missy!" he slurs.
Joey's eyes narrow. "Have you been drinking?" "Only liquor, I promise," comes his garbled reply (Josh does drunk really well!) Joey bites. "What's wrong?" she asks flatly. "Oh, it's nothing a little bonfire won't fix," he mumbles. "You see, our friend Andie decided she needed to cleanse me from her life in order to maintain her sanity, and the casualties are the contents of this box."
She regards him sadly, knowing the pain of rejection only too well. Pacey walks down the dock carrying his box of memories, but in his inebriated state, trips and falls, the contents of the box tumbling out over the dock and into the water. "Hello, Mr. Dock," Pacey announces from the ground, then asks if Joey will call his dad and tell him his son is hanging out at the marina, because he knows he can't go home in his current state.
Slowly, Pacey pulls himself to his feet and sees the framed photo of Andie and him in happier times. "That's my girl." He reaches for it, but in his drunken stupor (tsk tsk, didn't anyone learn anything from Abby? Drinking and the docks don't mix!), accidentally pushes the photo into the water, where he watches it slowly sink out of view, a sad pout on his face.
It's 5:30, and the time has come to see if the theif has returned the test to Dawson's locker. "You're like a St. Bernard, Dawson -- loyal and faithful to the last," Eve notes. He ignores her. "In about 30 seconds I'm going to open that locker and prove you wrong." "How can you be so certain?" she asks, amused. "Because I believe in happy endings, Eve, I always have," he insists.
"Happy endings. There's a contradiction in terms if I ever heard one," she mutters. "You're enjoying this," he comments, sounding offended. "Not really," Eve answers. "It's just my taste in fairy tales usually runs more towards the Brothers Grimm." "How can you be so relentlessly cynical?" he asks. "How can you be so profoundly naïve?" she counters.
The moment of truth is upon them. Dawson opens his locker and finds ... nothing He's instantly on edge, thoroughly disappointed the test isn't where it's supposed to be. Eve offers a small smile. "All is not lost, my sweet prince," she coos, but suddenly, her words seem to irritate him. "You know what, Eve?" Dawson says angrily. "Just leave me the hell alone, okay?"
"You sure?" She walks away a few feet and tells him quietly that she can help him get the test back. "How?" he demands brusquely. Eve smiles. "By telling you who took it." Dawson looks at her, stone-faced, clearly not in the mood for games. "I'm listening."
Eve stares at him, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Tell me who you think it is." There's a long, long pause, then Dawson finally replies he doesn't know. "Yes, you do," Eve contradicts. "Whoever you were just thinking of ... that's the thief." "It's that simple," he mocks her. "It is," she nods. "Simple and obvious." "I don't buy it," Dawson slams his locker door shut. "If there's one thing I've learnt from those stupid PSAT prep books is that the most obvious choice is usually the wrong one."
"We're not talking about standardized tests here, Dawson," Eve replies calmly. "Take a look at your yearbook. It's a crystal ball. The ones most likely to succeed, usually succeed ... and the one most likely to wind up in a chain gang usually has some rock breaking in his future." Dismay appears all over his face as she continues. "Welcome to the real world, Dawson. Where the first person to stab you in your back is your best friend."
At the marina, Joey has drifted off inside the office while studying. Pacey's drifted off too, outside on the dock, but it has more to do with his intoxicated state than it does mental exhaustion. The sound of footsteps rouses him out of his slumber, and he wakes up in time to see Dawson standing before him, looking angry.
"Well, if it isn't Inspector Get-a-clue-seau. (a pun on Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther movies, just in case you didn't get that.) What brings you to these parts at this late hour?" Dawson ignores the slight. "You're drunk. It's the night before the PSAT, Pacey, why are you drinking?"
"I don't need to study," Pacey answers with a derisive laugh. "I stole the test, right?" Dawson controls his anger. "If you have it, give it back." "I wish I did, hombre, I mean, really wish I did," Pacey responds obnoxiously. "But I don't. I don't! It's not here, it's not at home under my bed with my Playboys ... it is nowhere to be found."
"Pacey, we've been friends for 16 years, I'm not stupid." "Friends," Pacey repeats pointedly. "It's an interesting word. It implies that you'd actually believe your 'friend' when he's telling you something." "When he tells me the truth," Dawson replies, arms folded across his chest.
Pacey laughs raucously again. "You wanna know what I find so very amusing about this situation? I mean, what I think is so really, really, rich about all this? Is that you yourself were capable of stealing this test. I mean, you thought about it, you didn't throw that test away, you didn't give it back to Eve, you brought the test to us!"
"No, I wanted to consult the people I trusted to determine what the best thing was to do," Dawson interjects self-righteously. "I never thought that anyone would be so weak or so self-motivated as to actually swipe it." "Weak and self-motivated, huh?" Pacey repeats, an edge in his voice. "Now, which one of those two colourful adjectives would I be?"
Dawson's tone is measured. "You are who you are, Pacey." "Yes I am, Dawson. And so are you," Pacey replies, in a belligerent tone. "You, Dawson Leery, are a self-righteous son-of-a-bitch who cares more about his rose-coloured, defunct, 1950s belief system than the people who fail to live up to it!"
"An interesting choice of words coming from a smug, cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch who just dumped his girlfriend after she begged and pleaded for an ounce of sympathy!" Dawson replies hotly. "At least I didn't send her father to prison," Pacey says coldly. "No, you just made her go crazy," Dawson retorts. For his efforts, Dawson receives a punch in the eye from Pacey, but Dawson wastes no time in reciprocating, delivering a blow to Pacey's mouth that knocks him on the ground.
Hearing the kerfuffle, Joey rushes out. "Dawson!" she shouts, "What are you doing?" Pacey puts a hand to his lip, which is bleeding profusely "It's my fault, I'm sorry" he mumbles. Joey chooses to ignore this, directing her anger at her her ex-boyfriend and so-called best friend. "Dawson, this has got to stop!" She turns to Pacey, still glaring at Dawson. "Are you okay?"
A little while later, Pacey sits inside the marina's office, and Joey enters, carring a soft drink in her hand. "Hey, I brought you a Pepsi," she offers gently. "No thanks, I'm not thirsty," he grumbles. She rolls her eyes. "It's for your lip, moron. In lieu of ice?"
"I can't believe he thought I took it," Pacey laments, reaching for the pop can. Joey exhales. "So what, Pacey?" He's upset, though. "I thought if I'd earned anyone's respect, it was Dawson's. I mean, if the guy who knows you better than anybody on earth thinks you're a loser, then maybe --"
"Then maybe you are?" Joey finishes for him. "Come on. I mean, I thought you were a loser for years but you've never believed me," she teases. He smiles briefly, but looks saddened. "It's just, you know, when does a person start believing the general consensus about themselves?"
Joey looks Pacey in the eye. "When it's right." He sighs. "Do me a favour? Tell your friend Dawson that I'm innocent. I mean, he'll believe you." "My friend?" she interjects. "He's your friend, too, and you know as well I as I do that he's somewhere right now sulking over the gravity of his wrongful accusation."
"Good," Pacey replies. "Let him stew in his own pride for a while." Joey smiles good-naturedly. "We're all guilty of that." "Hey I'd never accuse you of cheating," Pacey retorts. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure he would never take the first swing at you," Joey counters. Pacey is indignant. "He started that whole thing!" Joey shakes her head. "I'm not getting into this."
Pacey changes the subject. "So, tell me ... what do you think happened to that test?" "I don't know, and to be honest, I don't want to know," Joey replies. "There are certain things in life you're just better off not knowing. Things you wish you never knew ... never asked ... never saw."
"Okay, so tell me honestly, does it look that bad?" Pacey pouts through the blood and the swelling. Joey regards him disdainfully. "On your face, any reconstructive surgery whatsoever is a definite improvement." She giggles as he takes a sip of Pepsi.
Meanwhile, Dawson is sitting on his dock contemplating the evening's events, when Eve approaches him. "Did you get it back?" she asks earnestly. He turns to face her, sporting a nice shiner. "Not exactly." Eve's face registers shock. "What happened?"
"That's what I've been sitting here trying to figure out," he replies sourly. "The thing I can come up with is you, Eve. You happened to me, you and that stupid test." "Which one of us gave you the black eye?" she counters. He won't let her away with it that easily, though. "Look, Eve, I accept the blame in this, but don't even try to tell me you didn't know what giving me that test would do."
She's non-plussed. In fact, she even smiles a little. "Look, if crafting me as the villain in your little mystery is what it takes for you to sleep at night, then go ahead. The fact is, we're all villains in our own way or another. It's just the stupid ones who get caught."
He's not satisfied with her response. In fact, he's not satisfied with her, period, anymore. "Nice knowing you, Eve." Dawson gets up to leave, but she grabs his arm. "Is that how it works? Someone offers you a view of human nature that's even remotely truthful and you walk away from it? It terrifies you, doesn't it? That wholesome Dawson Leery could be so overwhelmingly attracted to someone so flawed, so ... real."
Eve tries to kiss him, but Dawson glares at her. "The purpose of our spending time together was to get to know each other better. And you know what, Eve? Now that I've gotten to know you, I don't really like you." He turns and leaves without another word. Eve can't believe her ears. Her face changes from a smirk to a disbelieving smile to a frown, then stone cold.
On the football field, the pom pom squad are shouting out a cheer ("So come on all you Minutemen and shake your caboose!") during football practice as Jen winces at their lameness (the cheerleaders, not the team). Henry trots over to Jack, offering words of encouragement. "How are your ribs?" he enquires. "Well, you know, I can still breathe, but then again, practice isn't over yet," Jack groans.
"McPhee you're first in the shute!" barks Mitch. Henry asks Jack what his mantra is. "Fug," Jack replies simply. "Fug?" Henry asks, not quite understanding. "It's the only word I got in my head right now," Jack explains. "Fug. Fug! FUG!" (I guess this is the censors way of alluding to the F-word?) "Then go with it," Henry tells him. Jack gets into position and focuses. "Fug ... fug," he mutters.
Mitch blows the whistle. In slo-mo, Jack goes through a mountain of blue and yellow as the cheerleaders and the rest of the team watch. "Come on, come on," Jen whispers. He makes it, of course, crashing into Mitch at the end. The cheerleaders go wild as Mitch slaps his back, and Jen jogs up, clapping gleefully. "Way to go!"
Jack's little triumph inspires young Henry, who stares at Jen, an odd expression on his face. "Fug ... Fug ... Fug," he repeats over and over, walking towards her quickly. Picking up momentum, he makes a full running sprint at her, but soars straight past and keeps on going, like Forrest Gump when he scores a touchdown and runs right off the field. Jen gawks after him. "What the ... what the ... what the hell was that?"
Cut to Saturday morning at school, where Principal Green is administering the dreaded exam. "Today's PSAT test will be two-and-a-half hours long. As you know, there are five sections -- two verbal, two math, one writing. Are there any questions? All right you people have 30 minutes to complete ... What are you doing, Mr. Leery?"
Dawson has stood up and walked over to the principal, handing in his unopened test booklet. "It's a long story." At his desk, Pacey smiles to himself. Principal Green is dumbfounded. As Dawson leaves the room, he asks the students if anyone else is planning on leaving. On cue, Pacey gets up as everyone watches, and gives the principal his exam. "I left the oven on." He walks out, flashing Joey a quick smile. She smiles back.
Outside, Dawson stands alone on the steps to the school's entrance when Pacey joins him. "What took you so long?" Dawson grins, and Pacey grins back. "Eh, it's those analogies, man. They're a killer." Dawson knows everything is going to be okay between them now. "Remind me why we just did that again? Because if we're gonna beat the crap outta each other, it should at least be over a chick," Dawson smiles. Laughing, they walk off down the quad together, the best of friends once again.
"You may ... begin!" Principal Green announces, consulting a stop watch. The assembled students rip open their booklets, pick up their pencils and begin to read the questions.
All, that is, except Andie. Surrounded by a calculator and about a dozen pencils, she snatches the closest one and begins filling in the answer sheet very quickly, ignoring the test booklet all together. Suddenly, it dawns on her how suspicious this must look, and she furtively glances around at her classmates to see if anyone is watching. Relieved no one has noticed, Andie quickly breaks the seal on the test booklet. But instead of actually consulting the questions, she continues to disregard the booklet and rapidly fills in the answer sheet from memory.
Fade to black ...