They reach the film lab and Dawson, ever the gentleman, holds the door open for Joey to go enter first. "I mean," he continues, "Video is a great format to learn on, but the look and the feel is strictly amateur. Film is key, and if we can find her we can give it another spin." "Her?" Joey questions, and follows Dawson into a small adjoining room filled with cameras, tripods, film reels ... and Nikki, who is adjusting a projector.
"The Arriflex," Dawson explains to Joey. "Capeside High's one and only 16 millimetre camera." "She is a beauty, Dawson," Nikki agrees admiringly. Dawson's slightly taken aback to see her there and asks what she's doing. "Extra credit for joining this film class," she replies. "Plus, I get to be near all the equipment."
"How very earnest of you," Dawson mutters sarcastically. (Can I just say I'd like to smack him here? Hypocrite.) Nikki, to her credit, ignores him and turns to Joey, introducing herself. Joey smiles and tells Nikki she's heard wonderful things about her film. "Really?" Nikki marvels in mock-surprise. "From whom?"
Dawson interjects rudely. "Um, speaking of equipment, hand her over," he instructs Nikki, who gives him a hairy eyeball and a sugary smile. "Sorry, Dawson, she's checked out." She wheels the projector into the other room, Dawon in tow. "That's highly unlikely," he fumes. "Yet completely true," Nikki replies calmly.
Flustered, Dawson asks how long has the projector has been checked out for. She replies a week, so he surmises it must be due back today. Nikki corrects him. "Nope. She's checked out for the next four weeks straight." "There's a one week maximum!" Dawson cries, outraged. Still wearing the saccharine smile, Nikki tells him she already cleared it with their teacher. "You did." "Hmm-mmm." "You checked out the camera?" (Um, what part of that sentence don't you undetstand, boy?) "Me checked out the camera, yes." (tee hee)
"Well, there's a project I want to start working on," Dawson tells her, as if he thinks by magically saying that, she's gonna just give up the equipment. "There's a project that I am working on." Dawson sighs dejectedly. "Okay, well then, when can I have the camera back, exactly?" "When I'm done," she replies calmly. (Okay, here's where I start to have a problem with her. It's bad enough she "cleared" it with her teacher -- read "asked Daddy to put in a good word," but there's no need for her to give him attitude)
"And when will that be?" Dawson asks super-calmly, trying to contain his anger. "Filmmaking is not fast food, Dawson. You can't rush it," Nikki shrugs and saunters out the door past him and Joey, as he turns a vibrant shade of purple from rage.
Apparently, Jen and Jack don't need to go to class, it's more important for them to do groceries. They push their cart around the grocery store and bicker about the merits of various cereals like an old married couple. Apparently, Jack needs no less than three varietys to sustain him -- Grape Nuts for nutrition, Cocoa Pebbles (eww) for an afternoon snack and Capt'n Crunch for late-night binges.
Jen is amused. "If there was ever a concern that you are not Andie McPhee's brother, it's been solved." Grinning, Jen removes the Cocoa Pebbles and Capt'n Crunch. "You're a good man, Jackie Brown, but as a grocery shopper, you blow. I'm afraid I must leave you with the Grape Nuts." She leaves to replace the two snacky cereals on the shelf. "Fascist," Jack mutters. "Pig," Jen grins.
"At least you fought the good fight," someone else chimes in. "Hey, Jack." It's Ethan. "From the ... from-the-train Ethan," Jack blinks, surprised. Ethan chuckles, picking up a little shopping basket. "I prefer just plain Ethan." "Wow," Jack swallows, not knowing what to say next. "Uh ... what are you doing here?" "Food shopping," Ethan smiles. "I hear it's pretty standard in one of these places."
Jack shakes his head. "Uh, I meant ... I-I thought you were going back to school last weekend?" "I did," Ethan nods. "I came back for Capefest." Showing an endearing lack of coolness, Jack replies, "Oh, uh ... wh-what is that? I mean, is-is it like a ... uh ... a feed the poor type-of-thing?" Ethan raises an eyebrow, grinning. "Which one of us lives here year round? It's a concert. A free concert in the park."
"Oh," Jack sighs, relieved to have a frame of reference. "Okay, so it's like a 'Pallooza-type deal?" Ethan nods. "Moshing ... stage diving ... overpriced bottled water. Anyway, there's a campsite outside the concert where everyone hangs out. I'm going down to get a spot tomorrow."
"Oh! Well, cool, that sounds like a blast!" Jack smiles, sounding like, to borrow a line from Maria on Roswell, a puppy in heat. Ethan nonchalantly tells Jack if he's a fan, he should come. "Uh, yeah, I'm a total fan," Jack nods and smiles some more.
Ethan grins wickedly. "Tell-tale fan quiz: Who's your favourite Foo Fighter?" Jack frowns and clears his throat, trying to sound like he knows what he's talking about. "Courtney Love?"
Suppressing a grin, Ethan tells him, "You're in the alternative nation, just not quite in the right zip code." Mr. "I'm So Hip It Hurts" begins to walk away, leaving an utterly mortified Jack behind, but then he turns back. "You should come anyway." He smiles and walks away, just as Jen oh-so-conveniently returns.
"Cute," she nods appraisingly. "Gay," Jack informs her. Jen sighs. "Aren't they all?"
Back in school, where everyone else seems to be, Andie rushes up to a teacher in the hall between classes. "Excuse me, Mr. Broderick? Can I speak with you for a minute?" He regards her disdainfully. "And you are ...?" "Andie McPhee," she replies eagerly. "And you want to waste my time about ...?" "The school play," Andie says, full of her usual enthusiasm.
He dismisses her with a wave of his hand, instructing that auditions are after school. Typical Andie, she won't be dismissed so easily, and insists he give her just a minute of his time. Mr. Broderick becomes irked. "I am not auditioning at this time, comprende? I am eating lunch. I assume you eat lunch on your planet, do you not?" (Jesus, what is it with the teachers in this school? They all have a Bachelor's degree in Attitude. I'm assuming Manners was an elective ...)
"But I'm not here to audition," Andie tells him, beginning to sound a little bit whiny. "I know, you want to star in the show," he rolls his eyes. Andie waives a piece of paper advertising the play in front of him. "Assistant Director. Look, Mr Broderick, I want to be Assistant Director. I'm smart, bossy, and super efficient. And the truth is, you need me."
Bossy ... now she's speaking his language. He snatches the paper from her hands. "Why didn't you just say so?"
Fast forward to the end of the school day, where Dawson and Joey are over at his place. "Filmmaking is not fast food, Dawson," Dawson repeats in a sarcastic tone, clearly still pissed with Nikki. Joey shrugs. "She's entitled to the equipment, too." Dawson looks wounded at her lack of solidarity. "Look, you check out a camera, you return the camera in a timely fashion. That's all I'm asking."
He crosses from the kitchen to the family room, which is completely empty except for his mother, who is in the process of carrying out a box. "Uh, Mom? What's going on?" Dawson asks, confused and concerned. Gale smiles uneasily. "Hey ... uh, look, honey ... I'm going to be taking some furniture over to my place."
Dawson looks saddened. "Oh. Okay." "Just from the family room and the guest room," Gale explains. "It's part of the settlement. I asked your Dad not to say anything because I wanted to explain myself." Dawson tells her she doesn't have to explain herself, and Gale asks him to keep being positive about the situation because it will "make it so much easier on all of us." "Well, I aim to please," Dawson tells her with a small smile. Gale gives her son a hug and heads out with the box.
For a long moment, Dawson stands there silently, then Joey hesitantly asks if he wants to talk. "What's there to say?" he shrugs. Joey gives him a sad lop-sided smile. "About what you're feeling." For the second time that day, Dawson struggles to contain his real emotions. "I'm thinking my parents are divorced and I'm glad it's finally over," he replies. Joey pushes a little, gently. "Dawson, I said what you're feeling." "I'm still working on that one," he replies coldly, then walks away.
Speaking of cold, Jen and Jack have decided to make the pilgrimmage to Capefest, where they scout out a good location to set up camp ... outdoors ... in the middle of January ... in Massachusetts. (I suppose if they can have Thanksgiving outdoors in November, an outdoor concert in January isn't too implausible ...)
"This is gonna be great!" Jack grins. "I mean, sleeping out under the stars, fresh breeze off that ocean, the call of the wild ..." "It's the call of nature I'm worried about," Jen says sourly. "Jack, where are the chemical toilets?" He doesn't know, and seemingly doesn't care (he wouldn't, given his God-given ability to pee standing up. Siiigh ... men.) -- all he wants to do is set up shop. Jack dumps assorted sleeping backs, knapsacks, equipment and gear on the ground.
"God," Jen teases. "I thought I'd go to extreme measures to get in some guy's pants." "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jack corrects her. "I am not trying to get into his pants. For crying out loud, this is the first gay guy that I've actually conversed with -- excuse me for wanting to get to know him."
Jen didn't mean it that way, not literally, anyway. She advises him to be aware that he's venturing into new territory here. "Before you take this great big emotional leap, you should be willing to admit that you're taking it. Don't just try and brush it off as simply wanting to get to know somebody."
"I'm telling you, it's all it is," he insists. Jen nods, unconvinced. "Okay. Even still, take my advice. Play it cool. Let him come to you." Jack completely ignores her. "I think I'm gonna see if I can find him," he says enthusiastically and sprints off, leaving poor Jen to set up camp.
Cut to the auditorium, where auditions are in full-swing for the Capeside High production of Barefoot In The Park. Various students read snippets of lines in either overly-dramatic or comatose voices, much to the chagrin of Mr. Broderick and his new assistant director, Andie.
Finally, one student performs a fairly decent reading. "I like him," Andie whispers. "What do you think?" "I think I'm getting a migraine," Mr. Broderick replies, popping some Tylenol. "I think he's got a certain dramatic flair," Andie continues, but Mr. Broderick explains he has someone else in mind.
Frustrated, Andie holds a stack of papers with audition notes on them in front of him. "Who 'someone else'? We are out of someone elses!" Ignoring her, Mr. Broderick explains the boy he had in mind is "a deplorable student" with the "the ethics of a billy goat," popping a Tylenol to prove his hypochondria and neuroses. Andie explains they've already cast most of the roles, and begs Mr. Broderick not to throw away the only decent performance they've had for the main lead yet.
"Have no fear, Miss McPhee, I cut a deal with one of my students," he explains. The kid is a natural with comedy!" Andie frowns. "From my limited perspective, I see but two kinds of actors: those with talent, and those with the ability to expand on that talent -- which requires maturity, which requires a sense of responsibility, which requires the ability to come both prepared and on time!"
Enter Pacey: "Hey, you guys ... I'm sorry I'm late. I'm here to read for the role of Paul? Pacey Witter." He smiles awkwardly as Broderick turns to Andie and beams. "That's him! That's our Paul!" Andie looks chagrined at the prospect of Pacey as Paul, and slams her pen down in revulsion.
Speaking of disgust, Nikki gives Dawson a look of pure contempt when he approaches her at home that afternoon, after school. "Dawson, tell me this isn't an attempt to repossess the camera," she tells him flatly without looking up from her book. He sighs. "I just want to reiterate something." Nikki idly closes the book and looks at him bemusedly. "Reiterate away."
"Okay," Dawson begins, climbing on his high horse. "I get this little ego trip. I ... I know you're the principal's daughter, but that does not give you the right to be selfish or rude --"
"Dawson," Nikki interrupts. "I didn't know you wanted to use the camera. But you're just gonna have to get used to it," she says simply. Before he can reply, Principal Greene approaches the pair, extending a hand. "I thought I heard a familiar-sounding voice. If it isn't my second favourite student filmmaker!" Dawson smiles tersely.
"So I understand you and Nikki have become fast friends," the principal enthuses. More terse smiling from Dawson. "Yeah ... yeah." Principal Green nods, delighted that they "hit it off" and invites Dawson to stay for dinner. Instantly, Dawson and Nikki make excuses, but to no avail. "Now wait a minute -- as your father and as your principal, I think I'm gonna have to pull rank here." He smiles at them. "Besides, how often do I get a chance to have a nice meal with one of my students?"
Dawson smiles weakly, hoping for a hole in the ground to open up so he can conveniently disappear, while Nikki frowns and holds her hands to her head in exasperation. Principal Green chooses to ignore the obvious warning signs and carries on obliviously. "And I promise not to talk too much about my lovely little daughter. Come on," he chuckles, ushering the pair into the house.
Back at Capefest, Jack is wandering around looking for his elusive Mr. Goodbar, whom he finds (appropriately) perched on a tree branch. "So ... you decided to show," Ethan calls down to him. Jack smiles back up and shrugs awkwardly. "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."
Ethan smiles. "You here by yourself, or with ...?" "Um ..." Jack fumbles, "With ... a girl." The words come tumbling out eagerly, and Jack struggles to correct his faux-pas. "She's ... uh ... a friend of mine ... she's setting up our tent. What about you?" "All by my lonesome." Ethan flashes his baby blues at Jack, who melts.
Ethan smiles at his puppy. "So, you want to go grab a bite to eat, take a walk, what?" "Yeah!" Jack replies enthusiastically, then realizes how starry-eyed he sounds. "To, uh ... to both. Whatever." Laughing, tree-boy jumps down and leads the way to the beach, where Jack and he begin an earnest conversation.
"After the train ride I thought for sure you'd ask for my number," Ethan says, to which Jack replies that "typical paranoia" set in. Sage gay teen that he is, Ethan nods wisely. "I figured as much." "How come you didn't ask for mine?" Jack wonders aloud. Ethan laughs the don't-be-so-silly laugh which I have since come to know and despise him for. "Because I could. It's more important that you learn to ask. You're the newbie, remember?"
"Yeah ... newbie," Jack groans. "The barely-outed gay kid soon to have his heart broken, right?" Ethan smirks, impressed. "Good recall!" (for the record, can I just say how much he irritates me?) Jack blushes profusely. "Well, there's not much I'm gonna forget about that conversation ... that was a first for me."
Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen actually is surprised to hear this news. "That was your first time talking to another gay kid?" "Yeah," Jack replies uncomfortably. "Well, unless you count the Internet." Ethan's back to smug mode. "I don't."
In another part of Capefest, Jen is having major issues trying to set up her tent. She spies a fellow festival goer muching on a burger and asks where he got it from, only to be pointed in the direction of one Henry Parker, who is busily flipping food on a grill, serving Capefest's hungry patrons.
Jen stands in front of him silently. "You want your bun toasted?" he asks, without looking up from the grill. Jen grins. "I thought you'd never ask." He glances up and sees her smiling face. "Hey," he greets her mildly, with almost disinterest. "Quite a crowd you have here," Jen replies admiringly.
Henry frowns. He's flustered, but tries to compose himself enough to put on a game face. "Listen, I ... I really don't have time for small talk at the moment. Did you want a burger, or not?" Jen is slightly hurt by his abruptness. "Yes."
Silently, he goes back to flipping burgers while she watches, frowning, and tries another avenue of conversation. "You know, I was wondering if you could give me a hand with my tent? I was never much of a Girl Scout." She smiles at him hopefully, but is met with a blank stare. Finally, Henry asks his co-worker to take over for him, and walks with Jen to her campsite.
"So ... you never told me you were a vegetarian," Jen begins, trying to start small talk. "You never asked," Henry replies bluntly. She frowns, again. "Do I detect a note of ambivalence in seeing me?" "That would be correct." Her frown deepens. "Any particular reason?"
Henry can't believe she doesn't already know. "You mean besides the fact that you led me on for the sole purpose of crushing me underfoot?" "That's not true, Henry, and you know it." It's Henry's turn to frown now. His voice adopts a petulant tone. "Well, you could have fooled me."
Jen is totally bewildered now. "What are you talking about?" He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, starting off strongly but finishing weakly, too meek to say what's really on his mind. "Don't tell me that you're not taking some small satisfaction in ..." "In what?" Jen asks, exasperated. Finding a backbone, Henry finishes. "... being on the requited side of unrequited love."
A long silence follows. "Henry, I thought that you and I agreed to be friends?" Jen finally says. "Friends?" Now it's Henry's turn to be exasperated. "You haven't even noticed, have you?" She's confused. "What? Noticed wh--"
"That we haven't even spoken in over a month!" he shouts. "For the past four weeks I've been giving you the silent treatment, and it hasn't even registered on your radar screen. Hell, I could have fallen off a cliff ten thousand feet for all you care!" "That's not true!" Jen exclaims, but it's too late. Mighty Mouse is pissed. "You know what? You can put up your own damned tent!" With that, he storms off, back to the grill.
From Capefest to Gushfest, or dinner at the Greene home. Principal Greene proudly tells Dawson he is looking at "the only little girl in America who wanted a Super-8 camera for her tenth birthday." Nikki is horrified when her father suggests they tell Dawson the name of her first cinematic achievement. "Don't you dare!" The principal chuckles and ignores her protestations. "A Day In The Life Of Daddy," he reminisces. "She followed we around all day long."
"James Cameron of the third grade," Nikki muses sarcastically. Principal Greene asks Dawson if he has been "enlisted" for her new film. "Uh, no," Dawson answers quickly. "She hasn't ... I don't even know what it's about." "That's between me and my crew," Nikki retorts sharply. (Oh, puh-leeze. Junior diva needs to cash a large reality check ...)
"So, in order to bask in the glory of this mind-bending idea of yours, I have to offer my services?" Dawson clarifies, and my mind immediately jumps into dubious territory. "Is that an offer?" Nikki counters. "Are you asking for my help?" Dawson counter-counters. "I don't need any help, Dawson," Miss Thang replies acerbically.
Daddy dearest pipes up that he thinks it would be "a great idea" for the two of them to work together, but is quickly shot down by both of them simultaneously. Principal Greene grimaces. "Sorry I mentioned it." An awkward, uncomfortable silence follows his comment.
Back at Capefest, Ethan and Jack are discussing matters of sexuality. "You knew that young you were attracted to men?" Jack asks. "No," Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen replies. "I knew that young that I was different. Being gay isn't about what sex you're attracted to, it forms so much of what and who you are."
"Newbie" Jack is lost. "I'll make it simple," Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen sighs. "You haven't talked to another gay kid, so you definitely haven't kissed one, right?" "No," Jack admits sheepishly. "But you still know you're gay," Ethan reiterates. "Sure," Jack nods. Ethan stares at him, non-plussed. "How." "I just ... know, I guess," comes the reply.
Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen sighs and imparts his Words Of Wisdom to the newbie. "Everyone always wants to define gay and straight by who you sleep with. But it's not about that. It's about moments -- it's about being too nervous to ask for my number. It's about conversations like this, all right? It's about who and what you love, and that's why you can't erase it, because it's not just a part of your life ... it's everywhere."
(Just to clarify ... I have absolutely no problem with gay men. I love gay men. One of my dearest friends in the world is a gay man. But I do have a problem with cynical, jaded, arrogant, Voice Of A (Gay) Generation, been-there-done-that types, who Speak From Experience and have this uncanny way of subtly belittling those around them for not having the same experience. Gay or straight ... I absolutely despise cockiness and fececiousness, only slightly more so than I despise ignorance and juvenality, which is probably why Ethan and Henry are deadlocked for my Least Favourite Male Character award.)
Moving on ... where were we? Ah yes, Ethan tells Jack that one's gayness is "everywhere." The two of them come to the Spot Formerly Known As Ethan's Campsite and Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen looks in horror at the empty patch of grass before them. "Unlike my stuff!" he declares. Jack is confused (yet again). "My camping gear," Ethan explains. "It's gone!" (Heh. Karma ...)
Pacey and Andie, who have no interest in Capefest or filmmaking, collide into each other in the halls of Capeside High. As usual, Andie has a bee in her bonnet for no good reason, and demands flat-out that Pacey quit the play, thus illustrating that aforementioned arrogance I mentioned and securing her spot as Least Favourite Female Character.
"Listen," Pacey replies, trying to make light of the situation, but rather irked nonetheless, "He saw my potential, okay?" Andie chases him up a flight of stairs, whining about how the play is "her" after school activity. "But I'm the lead," he reiterates.
Apparently, Andie doesn't care. "I want you to quit." Pacey stops, exasperated. "Listen, the guy said he'd give me a C in English. What do you want?" Considering Pacey's track records with English teachers, you'd think Andie would cut him some slack, but noooooooo. "Oh, and that's what it's come to?" she demands. "Anything for a C? What's happened to you?"
"Not that any of this is your concern, but Mr. Broderick says he thinks I might actually be good at this." Andie snorts contemptuously, but Pacey ignores her and continues. "And so do I."
"Okay, listen," she sighs. "Mr. Broderick may be a lousy English teacher, but as a theatre director, he is probing new lows, Pacey. Rumour has it that he has botched every school play for the past five years. And it's only been by sheer force of will that the past student theatre geeks have managed to sandbag his bi-hourly nervous breakdowns."
Pacey is puzzled. "So what's your point?" "My point," Andie replies, "Is that I got into this to get over you, okay? To give myself a new focus. And instead, your presence is giving me perpetual myopia."
"What?" he laughs dismissively. "We haven't even done one rehearsal yet. You want me to throw my whole theatre career to the wind?" Andie is more than a bit frustrated by this point. "Okay, listen, Sir Barrymore, our director is irrational. And your lack of ability -- though not apparent to him yet -- is enough to send him over the proverbial edge, and me with him."
Pacey regards her impassively. "Fine. You quit then." "I most certainly will not!" Andie is outraged. He stops and turns to face her. "I'm not going to quit. Witters aren't quitters." Another contemptuous snort from the ex-girlfriend. "Ohhhhh, oh that's really cute. You know what? Fine, just ... don't." He smiles at her triumphantly. "Fine. I won't."
Back at the Greene house (geddit? Greenhouse? Heh.) Dawson somehow or another manages to find himself in Nikki's bedroom, where she conveniently appears a moment later. He turns to greet her, his eyes resting on a Lauryn Hill poster. "I must say, film-geekdom is definitely not evident in your bedroom decor."
Nikki gives him her best I Know Everything look (and with it, swiftly ursurps Andie for the Least Fave Female award in one fell swoop) and says pointedly, "Your room ... let me guess: Wall-to-wall Spielberg one-sheets?" Dawson smiles proudly. "Uh, yeah. More or less a shrine."
She borrows Andie's contemptuous laugh. "I figured as much." "You say that like it's a bad thing." Dawson is clearly taken aback by her lack of willingness to bond over filmmaking matters. "Oh, it's not," she replies airily. "It's just ... there's so much to be passionate about, it seems kind of silly to focus on just one thing."
He counters that if a person is lucky enough to find that one thing, why not immerse in it? Nikki then offers a bit of a sage perspective which, for once, I have to say I agree with: "Don't get me wrong, Dawson, I love film. But I love it because it allows me to explore all of the other subjects that interest me. If all you care about is film, then you're just going to end up making movies about other movies. What good is that?"
Point taken. Dawson has no verbose comeback handy, so Nikki changes gears and apologizes for her father's overzealousness. "Ever since the divorce, he does this really aggressive thing when it comes to me making friends. It's so weird. But, you know, I try to cut him some slack." (How very big of her.)
Dawson sits and contemplates this. "So, you're cool with it? The ... the divorce?" Nikki smiles bitterly. "The constant shuttling between living quarters? The continually veiled and not-so-veiled comments my parents make about each other? The never-ending expectation that I look on the bright side of things? Oh, sure, I'm just dandy."
He blinks at her, and marvels at how well put-together she seems in spite of it all. "It's a well crafted disguise," she replies. "Inside, I'm just another angry kid." (all together now: awwwwwww. Cue violins.) "How angry?" Dawson asks, trying to get a bead on if she is going to lunge at him any time soon.
"Angry enough to make a film about it," Nikki answers. The light goes on over Dawson's head as he realizes this is the subject of her film. "It's about the 'American Family,'" Nikki explains. "What makes them functional, or as more often seems to be the case, dysfunctional."
He sighs in response and notes that Capeside should provide her with a healthy supply of material. "What about you?" Nikki probes, finally remembering he is in the same boat as her. "Your parents are divorced. How do you feel about it?" When he balks at answering, she apologises, but Dawson shrugs off the apology and replies that he wants to be as honest with her as she has been with him.
"Truth is, most of the time I'm fine with them not being together," he begins candidly. "I mean, maybe I'm just ... self-obsessed, (gee ... ya think?) but I just don't think about it that much. And then other times it ... it just kinda sneaks up on you, you know? I mean, it's like a disappointment of being the product of something that didn't work out. Because that's what our parents are - - they're our primary examples of love, and ...," his voice begins to falter, "in my example, it just wasn't ... I guess ... strong enough to ..."
Nikki looks at him concerned as he tries to keep his emotions in check. "I should get going ... uh ... tell you dad thanks." With that, he rushes out of the room as she sits there looking confused and worried.
Back to Capefest, where Jen sits near her botched tent assembly until Jack and, in the distanc, Ethan approach. "Oh, Jack!" Jen rushes up to him. "Thank God you're back from your stalk ... walk! You're never going to guess who I ran into here of all --" She comes to an abrupt halt as she finally notices Ethan. "Hi."
Jack makes the necessary introductions, then Ethan gallantly offers to help Jen pitch her tent, which she eagerly accepts. "Yes, please, relieve me of all of my feminist delusions about the equality of the sexes concerning spatial relations." (a simple 'thanks' would have sufficed, no?)
Jack moves Jen out of Ethan's earshot and explains his new friend's camping gear has been stolen and that he needs a place to crash. "And you, being the kind-hearted soul that you are, offered him a spot in our tent." (she catches on quick, our Jen!) Jack nods. "Yeah, so could you, uh, go take a walk for a couple of hours? Come back around, say, midnight?"
Jen is none-too-impressed with his suggestion, but Jack pleads with her. "Go mix, mingle. Write a few letters for Amnesty International. You'll probably make a lot of nice new friends." She turns the patented Jen Lindley 'tude on him full-force after that. "You know what? I got a better idea. How about me and the car, we go back to Grams's house and we pick you up in the morning? Besides Jack, I thought that you two were just getting to know each other."
Icily, she turns her back on him and stalks off into the night. The sounds of a young Bob Dylan in training lure her towards a campfire in the distance, where she finds Henry strumming a gee-tar and 'singing' some drivel about lost love with really lame-o lyrics. Jen watches from the shadows.
Over at school, rehearsals are ongoing for the play. Pacey's on stage, giving a lukewarm interpretation of his lines, while Andie and Mr. Broderick observe from the audience. Halfway through, his teacher interrupts. "No! Stop right there. Pacey, in theory your character may deliver his lines like that, but in concept, no."
Pacey is understandably confused. "In concept, no?" "Yes." "Well, what precisely is the difference between 'in theory' and 'in concept'?" he puzzles. Andie tries to explain her take on what Mr. Broderick was getting at, but halfway through, he interrupts her and rudely announces he can speak for himself, then turns to Pacey. "You see, Paul desires his young bride to know she knows nothing of the real world."
Clear as mud. "Riiight," Pacey frowns. "Which, practically speaking, means what?" Mr. Broderick is frustrated. "Louder and angrier," he states, louder and angrier. (heh. Sometimes, I just kill myself ...) Again, crystal as quicksand. "Louder and angrier?" Pacey repeats. "Yes," Mr. Broderick repeats impatiently, as if talking to a toddler. "Let's do it again. Right now ... louder and angrier."
Mr. Broderick sits then, taking a deep hit of his asthma inhaler. Pacey begins an over-the-top reading of his lines, which meets with the teacher's approval. "You liked that?" Pacey marvels. "Well, except for the hand stuff," the teacher replies, pointing at him. "You were gesticulating."
"Whoa, hey -- gesticulating? Me? Never!" Pacey answers glibly. "I mean, sometimes in the privacy of my own home --" "Wait, Pacey!" Andie interrupts. "That -- just now -- that's it! You nailed it." He's confused and asks for clarification. "The joke," Andie explains. "The dry, smug delivery. That's the character."
"Miss McPhee?" Mr. Broderick asks in a highly demeaning manner. "Am I, or am I not the director here? You're confusing my actors." "Well, I just thought that --" Andie begins, but he soon shoots her down. "Don't think. Ever." He directs his attention back to the stage. "Let's do it again. Louder and angrier!" This time, Pacey delivers his lines like a child having a temper tantrum as Andie watches on with a distressed face and Mr. Broderick beams happily.
He isn't the only one -- back at Capefest, Jack is grinning contentedly as he and Ethan approach their campsite. "This is really cool of you guys," Ethan says. "You're sure Jen's not going to mind if I take her sleeping bag?" "Definitely not," Jack offers a little too quickly. "She's a bit of a night owl."
"Old girlfriend?" Ethan smiles, ducking into the tent. "Nah, not exactly," Jack corrects. "But we did get set-up once." Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen is back. "Let me guess ... school dance?" Jack laughs. "Yeah. How'd you know?" Ethan starts counting off items on his fingers. "The punchbowl ... wrist corsage ... all the trappings of straightdom, until you realize you both like boys. Oldest story in the world." With that, he gets into Jen's sleeping bag and prepares to sleep. "Well, goodnight!"
Poor Jack looks zombified. "Uhh ... goodnight." But instead of climbing into his sleeping bag, he just sits there, looking dazed and confused. Clearly, this was not what he expected. Ethan, either: "Aren't you going to turn off the light?" Jack frowns. "Look, I ... I was thinking ... maybe ... um ... you know ... we could talk ... some more?" "You know what? I'm really beat." Ethan bats his baby blues back at Jack, knowing fully well how wrapped around his finger Jack is. "We got a big day ahead of us tomorrow -- 20 bands starting at daybreak." With that, he gives Jack his back and settles in to sleep as Jack switches off the light, still wearing a puzzled face.
Elsewhere in the campgrounds, Henry is putting his guitar into a case when Jen approaches. "Hey ... that was really beautiful. I mean, that was more than beautiful, it was ... it was awesome." He stares at her flatly. "Whatever." "I didn't know that you could sing." She tries again, and gets another flat stare for her efforts. "I thought we established that there's a lot you don't know about me."
He walks past her, and she calls after him to wait. "Why?" Henry demands, eyes flashing. Jen looks mildly upset. "Because I wanted to talk to you." He sighs, exasperated. "Look, you can't ... you can't keep doing this to me!" "Doing what?" she cries.
"Trying to be my friend and then pushing me away when my feelings scare you." The silence is deafening as his words sink into her skin. Jen sighs, and then speaks resignedly. "Okay, I admit it ... I miss you. I miss the goofy way that you used to look at me with all that passion and intensity. It made me feel that I was actually worth the fuss."
Apparently, her words aren't enough to placate him. "You know, I used to spend every day thinking about you ... dreaming about you. And every time you walked by, I lost myself. Do you know what that feels like? Do you?" "No," Jen admits. "Then you couldn't possibly know what it feels like to have that person not have the same feelings back. Look, I'm sorry you miss how I looked at you. But I don't miss how you never looked at me." This time, when he walks past her, she doesn't call after him to stop.
Cut to Casa Leery, where Dawson is committing the ultimate sacrelige -- taking down his movie posters. Joey enters through the window, in shock. "Have I stepped into some parallel universe?" she asks, wide-eyed. "Say it isn't so, Dawson."
"It's very so, Jo," he replies calmly. Joey thinks a moment, then asks if this is about his parents. Dawson sighs. "Truth be told, I don't know what it's about. All I know is, I was at Nikki's house today and we were talking, and it hit me. The kid who hung these posters up? I'm not him any more. I don't see the world the same way. My viewpoint was so limited, and now I ... I don't know what I see, but I don't see this." He takes down another poster.
Her brow wrinkles with thought. "So, you were at Nikki's house -- your worst enemy --" "Hey, she's not my worst enemy," Dawson jumps in, a touch annoyed. "Have you missed everything that I've just told you?" Joey's frown deepens. "I never thought that I'd say this about you Dawson, but, you're such a sell out. I mean, first Eve practically tugs you around by a dog collar, and now this new film girl breezes into town and you're tossing your identity out the window."
"I'm not tossing my identity out the window," he answers hotly. "If anything, for the first time in my life, I'm actually getting closer to discovering what my identity is, all right? I talked to Nikki. She helped me sort through all this weirdness with my parents."
Joey is hurt. "I wanted to talk to you about that and you didn't want to talk." "No, I didn't," he agrees, getting more irritable by the minute. "How did this become all about you?" Now it's Joey's turn to be on the defensive, her voice rising with each word. "Because you ran to her!" "I did not!" Dawson shouts back, provoking another outburst from Joey. "What did you do then?"
"Look, you want to cite things for a friendship? Try this on for size," Dawson snaps. "Joey, every time I express one iota of interest, or even respect, for anyone else of the opposite sex, you attack me like I'm some sort of criminal." "And you don't attack me?" she bites back, which isn't exactly a disagreement with his original statement.
"No, I don't," he answers contritely. "As you've noticed, I have not once asked about Mr. Ivy League." Her voice is acid. "Yeah, that's noted. His name is A.J., okay? And maybe your not asking about him is worse than my attacking you, okay?"
Dawson's tone is full of indignance. "No, it's not. My choice is civil." "And I'm not civil?" "No, you're yelling. That's not civil!" "You're yelling too!" Out of breath and flustered, the boxers each retreat to their respective corners before going another round. Joey glares at him, a bitter smirk on her lips. "Out with the old, in with the new, huh?" Silence. "Have fun." With that, she turns and leaves without a backward glance via the window, which Dawson slams shut after her.
From old friends to new friends, Jack and Ethan are doing the rise 'n' shine thing over at Capefest. They exchange awkward pleasantries outside their tent, then Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen returns and suggests Jack cut to the chase: "Aren't you forgetting something you're supposed to ask me for?" Jack looks thoroughly bewildered. "I don't think so ..."
"My number, Jack," Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen explains patiently. "You know, so you can call me sometime ... we can talk, get together?" Instantly, Jack switches gears from flustered to frustrated. "I don't get this. I mean, last night, you didn't seem interested enough to want to talk to me, and now all of a sudden you want me to have your number?"
"I was tired. I wanted to sleep. That's got nothing to do with us being friends," Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen continues. Jack looks crestfallen. "Friends ...?" Big sighs from Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen. "I figured you were probably interested." (I know Jack IS interested but still, what a pompous, presumptuous ass!) Jack looks even more crestfallen. "You're not?"
Ethan arrogantly dismisses the subject. "Even if I was, I would never go there with you. You're so not ready." Jack finally develops a spine: "How could you possibly know what I'm ready for?" Again, Ethan arrogantly dismisses the subject. "It doesn't mean that I'm not interested in you, Jack. It just means that if I'm gonna stay in your life -- and I want to -- then I'm a lot more likely to stick around this way."
Jack looks thrilled. "So ... you are interested?" "No comment." Ethan smiles, and Jack smiles back. "Wow. This is ... uh ... huh, this is sort of funny. I mean, as much as I didn't want to admit it, you were the first guy that I was ready to take that next step with, and you said no. I guess I should be somewhat discouraged. I don't know ... I mean, it keeps me really optimistic just to know that there's someone like you out there."
Amid Jack's babbling, Mr. Jaded-Gay-Teen writes out his phone number on a piece of paper and hands it over with a polite but cool, Take care, Jack." (Oh yeah, this is gonna end badly one day, mark my words ...)
Over at school, Andie, Pacey and the rest of the cast are waiting for Mr. Broderick to show up so they can start rehearsal. He's late. They're pissed. "Okay, be patient. He'll show," Andie soothes. "Oh joy," a male cast member smirks. "Then we can do more 'Louder! Angrier!'"
Pacey suggests they simply begin without him, and use Andie as a director, but she vetoes that suggestion, not wanting to incur Broderick's wrath. "All we're gonna do is run through a few lines," Pacey says. "Besides, wasn't it you who said this is actually your after-school activity, huh?"
Andie knows when she she can't win, especially with him. "Okay, fine. Pacey ... do your dead-pan thing. Corrie ... I want you to do just like the stage directions, you know ... confidential, laughing at times, provocative, okay? Okay! On my direction." The actors get into place. "Okay. And ... begin!"
Back at Capefest, Jen is off in search of Henry, who has become quite the culinary entrepreneur by selling cups of coffee out of the back of his truck (He's 15, and he has a truck?) He notices her and rather rudely points out the direction of the stage to her. "You lost or something?"
If I were Jen, I'd smack the little brat right there and then and walk away without a second glance. He's way overdoing it on the poor-misaligned-victim route. Instead, Jen sits down and tells him she came to apologize. "For what?" he asks suspiciously.
"For being callous with your heart," Jen begins. "For thinking that just because I'm older, I knew better. Last night, I stayed up all night thinking about what you said, and ... you're right. I don't know what it's like to be in love like that. I don't know what it's like to completely lose yourself in somebody else. But I'd like to. And if one of us is younger than the other here, I don't think that it's you, Henry."
"You got that right," he pouts, albeit with a little chuckle (God, I so wanted her to pitch that cup of coffee in his annoying little freshman mug!). Jen looks a bit disappointed that he reacts in this manner, but then he reaches for the thermos and pours her a cup o'joe as a peace offering. Bonding over coffee ... how very 21st century.
Back at school, Pacey and Corrie are running through their lines when spontaneous applause bursts out from the back of the auditorium. It's Mr. Broderick, who surprisingly gives the rehearsal his official stamp of approval, much to Andie's delight. Pacey is quick to support Andie as the credit for the success of the rehearsal, but Mr. Broderick apparently doesn't listen to this. He hears it, he just doesn't listen to it.
"All those exercises I've been throwing out at you to stretch your range -- they're paying off beautifully!" Corrie protests, telling him they were Andie's idea, but again, he doesn't listen. "I like the pacing, I like the funny, I like the energy. Andie, get me the set designs, would you please?" She scampers off, and again, Pacey insists all of those things were Andie's ideas, and again, Mr. Broderick doesn't listen. "Yes, sir, I mean, I was beginning to doubt myself there for a moment, but you guys are definitely in the groove!"
He's still blathering on as Andie brings the set designs to him. "The rest is just grunt work -- memorization ... pacing -- the easy stuff." Mr. Broderick glances at the designs and frowns, telling Andie they aren't the ones they discussed previously. "They are," Andie says politely. "I told Lauren you wanted a completely simplistic set -- freestanding doorways, hanging windows and minimal props."
"Well then, I changed my mind, didn't I?" he replies impossibly. "I mean, the actors will send this stuff flying around like a trapeze." "No no no, Mr. Broderick, we don't --" "Andie, don't argue," he interrupts. "Just follow orders." With that, he turns his attention back to the stage. "All right! Let's run the scene again! Same way, no changes!"
Dejected, Andie leaves the auditorium, Pacey hot on her heels. "Andie," he calls down the corridor after her, "You can't leave like this, all right? You said yourself that this guy thinks he's serious theatre. He's just terrified that someone's going to find out that that he's not."
"No," she shakes her head, "I can't work under these conditions, okay? It's hard enough as it is." Pacey finally realizes what an impact his presence has on her and offers an honourable, noble resolution. "Okay. All right. If it's hard, I'll quit." Andie won't let him do that: "I mean, you're ... you're actually good."
"Thank you." He smiles gently. "But the fact still remains that you're better, all right? We need you in there, even if that guy's a jerk. You gotta stick it out. I mean, I need you, McPhee." She looks at him with wounded eyes. "What am I supposed to do? Resume kissing his ass?" "Yeah, basically," he grins.
Andie sighs. "Well, is he going to stay out of my way?" "Who Broderick?" Pacey chuckles. "You're talking crazy talk, he'd never do anything like that. It'd be too easy." Andie wonders what's in it for her. "Well, that depends," Pacey replies with a smile. "I mean, are we talking in concept or in theory?" She manages a smile back.
"All right, what's the verdict, yes or no?" "I think ... no," Andie sighs. He nods. "All right, good. I mean, you know, actually, that's kinda what I expected you to say, so, um ... I'll see you at rehearsal then." He starts to walk away before she can protest. "What? No, Pacey, I said no!" He turns around, walking backwards. "I'm sorry, what did you ...? I can't hear you! It's good to hear you're so fired up about this project!" Andie shouts after him. "Pacey, I said no!" But he just talks over her, steamrolling over her objections. "Oh, Pacey," Andie bemoans quietly, after he's gone from sight, "I said no ..."
Capefest is finished by this point, and Jen and Jack are packing up their campsite. "So, all your efforts to secure some major face time with the new beau backfired?" Jen smiles. Jack rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, it turns out that the gay version of the "let's be friends" speech is basically the same as the straight version."
Jen smiles with self-satisfaction. "So would that mean that the part when you were rude and insensitive and sent me off into the cold dark night unescorted -- that was all or nothing?" Jack scoffs her jokingly. "Rude is such a strong word. I prefer something more like ... uh ... momentarily self-involved?"
She laughs. "Now that does have a certain ring to it." "Am I forgiven?" Jack asks hopefully. "Yes, Jack," Jen smiles. "You are forgiven. You know, it's a happy turning point in a girl's life when her gay best friend finally dumps her for another boy. They should ake some sort of greeting card for that."
Just for a change, Jack is confused. "Hold on, what happened?" "What?" "Your good attitude. I mean, you're wigging me out here. Explain. What did I miss?" Jen grins some more. "Well, remember when you sent me off into the night and told me to make new friends?" "Yes," Jack moans. "I thought we already established that was not my finest hour."
"I know," Jen nods. "Well, let's just say that ... while I was wandering around I may have ... inadvertently stumbled upon somebody." Jack's curiosity is piqued. "A, uh ... friend?" "Yep." "Anyone I know?" More big grins. "Yeah ... yeah, most definitely someone you know." "Well?" Jack teases. "Who is it?" Jen teases right back. "I'm not telling!" "Who is it?" "Nuh-huh!" Jack resorts to the cheap tactic of tickling her to extract the information. She giggles. "You're not getting it out of me!"
Over in Dawson's bedroom, Joey knocks on Dawson's door, sheepishly asking if she still has "ladder privileges." "I suppose so," he answers, still miffed. She passes him a rolled-up cylinder. "I come bearing gifts." He's still non-plussed, so she unravels the poster to reveal a replication of the cover of John Lennon's "Imagine" album.
Dawson's expression switches from disaffection to confusion, so Joey explains. "Do you remember that summer we came across a pile of Mitch and Gale's old Beatles albums, and listened to them on the porch every day for hours?" He laughs at the memory. "Grams kept on yelling for us to turn down that hippy music." Joey smiles. "Yeah. And you wanted to be John Lennon. You wanted to write songs and change the world with music."
"I did?" "You did. You weren't just about Speilberg. You weren't limited. You were about so many things. I just wanted to remind you of that." She passes the poster to him, then continues. "I also wanted to remind you that, even though sometimes my emotions -- particularly jealousy -- sometimes get the best of me, I still hear you. No matter how much we yell, or no matter how quiet you are ... I hear you, Dawson."
"I hear you too, Joey," he smiles. She nods, then thinks a moment. "Listen, I know what's going inside of you is huge. It's okay if you don't share it with me. Just promise me you'll keep trying to share it with someone?" He gives her a sad, tender sort of look, then asks if she will give him a hand hanging the poster, which they do, just above his bed. "Hmm ... So what do you think? You think John here will inspire me to walk my own path?"
Joey smiles. "You've always walked your own path, Dawson. You just needed to widen it a little." The smile turns into a grin. "And be on the look out for your Yoko." They chuckle at the thought, then turn back to staring at John Lennon thoughtfully as we ...
Fade to black ...