Sheepishly, Joey tells him she was thinking of going on Saturday instead. He insists she has to come on Friday, as it's opening night. "Much better chance you'll get to witness some amusing disaster ... you know, like seeing me falling on my head? Or perhaps my co-star hyperventilating from one of my intoxicating stage kisses? So, what do you say? Front row center?"
"I can't." Again, Joey looks at him apologetically. " I kinda have this thing I have to do on Friday night." "What thing?" Pacey asks suspiciously. Joey averts her eyes from his. "It's just this thing ... this guy." "What guy?" Pacey asks even more suspiciously. Joey almost cringes as she says the word. " A.J."
"College guy?" Pacey replies incredulously. She explains A.J. is coming out to The Cape for a party and invited her to go along. Again, Pacey is incredulous. "You're going to a frat party?" Joey quickly explains that A.J. isn't that kind of college guy, then in a dazzling non sequitur asks Pacey if he's ever heard of the Aurora Borealis.
Pacey nods, translating into layman's terms. "The Northern Lights." "Yes," Joey nods. Pacey exhales in disgust. "Yeah, I've heard of them. I mean, I may not be Ivy League material, but if you give me a road map and a remote control, I can probably find my way to The Discovery Channel and back." She sighs, then informs him that there are only about 10 nights out of the year when you can actually see the Northern Lights from Massachusetts and tomorrow may be one of them."
Calling a spade a spade, Pacey cuts to the chase: "Northern Lights, my ass. This guy is obviously just trying to separate you from the Potter pantaloons." Joey is peeved. "Read a newspaper once in a while -- you cannot fake geomagnetic activity." Pacey retorts that you can fake anything, "especially if you're some Ivy League egghead and it's all part of some grand astronomical make-out scam." He insists he's talking as the "voice of reason," and says the chances of the Northern Lights appearing in the night sky above Capeside are about as good as the chances of him acquitting himself with distinction on stage tomorrow night. Joey looks at him disdainfully and says she'll take those odds any day.
On the way to school the following morning, Dawson are discussing academia, when Nikki approaches them, all fire and brimstone. "You dropped film class?" she demands. "Are you insane?" Joey raises an eyebrow at Dawson and excuses herself, leaving Nikki to browbeat Dawson further. "This doesn't have anything to do with the film festival, does it?"
Dawson explains that he just needed to recharge his batteries for a little while, but that isn't good enough for Nikki. "The least you could've done was given me a heads up! We're partners, Dawson. And in three days, we're supposed to stand in front of our entire class and pitch a feature film." He tells her their teacher would be more than happy to give her an extension and a new partner, but Nikki insists she wants him.
"Look, who are you kidding?" Dawson asks. "You've probably got the entire assignment done already." "Well, yeah," she admits. "But I was gonna ask for your ideas." "Well, if you did you would've realized that I don't have any," he replies. "You don't have any ideas?" Nikki hoots. "Dawson, you are the most creative person in the class!" Smugly, he tells her that's where she'd be wrong, "because as of 8:15, I'm now the most creative person not in the class."
Rehearsing for the play, Pacey's leading lady, Corrie, worries that he'll forget his lines and screw up on opening night. Pacey insists he knows the lines, he just got a bit of recall delay. Andie paces frantically, in full-on producer mode, and wails for Mr. Broderick because the play is falling apart at the seams.
They begin rehearsing the scene again, when Jack enters the auditorium and approaches his sister, who waves him off. He explains that Mr. Broderick's suddenly taken ill, and asks Andie to come with him to the school infirmary, where Mr. Broderick is suffering from an apparent kidney stone.
Needless to say, he won't be directing Barefoot In The Park that evening. Mr. Broderick informs Andie she'll be taking his place. Andie insists she can do no such thing because she's already too busy as it is, when Jack volunteers to help her. Satisfied with that, Mr. Broderick tells Andie he has faith in her, and that it's been her show all along. He passes her his director's binder and melodramatically tells her that "as the house lights fall over that magic place we call the theatre, all I ask is that you give pause for a fleeting moment ... and think of me." (Jeez, you'd think the guy was on his death bed or something!)
Cut to a school hallway, where Jen spies Henry and calls after him. He turns and bolts, with Jen in pursuit, and she finally catches up with him as he exits a doorway. Puzzled, she asks why he's avoiding her, and he asks in return why she's cancelling their dinner the following evening. "What makes you think that I'm canceling?" Jen asks.
"Ever since you agreed to this little dare-I-call-it date, you don't even make eye contact with me in the hallway. It's like you've got this giant blind spot in exactly my shape and size," Henry replies. She sighs. "Okay, don't you think that maybe you're just being a little bit paranoid?" He pretty much answers her with his next question: " Are you or are you not cancelling our date?" Jen affirms that she's not cancelling anything ... she's just postponing.
Henry storms off, pissed, but Jen chases after him, explaining that because it's Pacey's opening night, she wants to be there to support him. Relieved, Henry offers to go with her, and asks what time the curtain rises. "Seven o'clock," Jen answers rather reluctantly. Delighted he tells her he will meet her then, and Jen half-heartedly says that will be fine, but after he floats away on cloud nine, her expression changes to one of guilt.
At the Potters', Joey is fighting off the advances of Bessie and the "medieval torture Device' she wields, otherwise known as an eyelash curler. They're interrupted at a knock at the door, but Bessie tells her sister to relax and "finish telling me how I'm not supposed to worry about you going out with some much-older guy." Exasperated, Joey explains that A.J. is only 19.
Just then there's another knock, only this time, it's on Joey's bedroom door. Bessie takes a quick peek, then turns to her. "Well, it's a boy ... just not the one we expected." As she exits, Pacey enters, agitated. "Okay, so I tanked. I did. I completely tanked!" Joey tries to calm him down and assure him it's only his nerves, but he will have none of that. "No, no, no, this is way beyond nervous. You know that read through I had today? I couldn't remember a single line!"
She assures him that he does indeed know the play -- they went through it two nights ago, but Pacey corrects her that he knows the play when he goes through it with her. When he does it with other people, it's a no-go. Joey apologizes for not being able to make it to opening night, but Pacey gives her the opportunity to get back into his good books: "There's still the after party I told you about -- and don't say no too quickly because you're definitely going to need a shoulder to cry on after this whole Northern Lights thing doesn't work out."
Joey giggles but tells him not to count on it, as "geomagnetic conditions are extremely favourable for activity." He's not impressed. "Where did all this scientific mumbo-jumbo come from? I thought this A.J. dude was a poetry geek." "He's interested in more than just that," she informs him. "He's a Renaissance man." "Fantastic," Pacey replies dryly, "He can bore you in seven languages." "No, just three actually," Joey corrects him. "English, French and Latin." "Latin?" "Uh-huh." "Who speaks Latin?" Pacey is incensed. "I mean, like Spanish -- now that's the foreign language of the people. But Latin? That's a dead language!"
Bessie interrupts Pacey's little linguistical rant by announcing that A.J. has arrived, which earns her a clamped hand across her mouth and a brusque escort out of the room by Pacey. Turning back to Joey, he tells her it isn't too late to bail, but she's getting irritated with him now. "Why would I want to do that?" "Because this guy's an operator, okay?" Pacey insists. "I can tell. I mean, you know the first thing he's gonna do when he comes through that door? He's gonna pay you some lame compliment about how incredible you look tonight."
"Pacey ..." Joey doesn't quite know what to say, so she just leaves, with Pacey in tow like some sort of lovesick puppydog, which granted, he is, but she doesn't exactly know that yet. "I'm just lookin' out for you!" he cries, continuing. "Then he'll try something cute, like a negligible, but not entirely insignificant, amount of physical contact, you know what I mean? Like helping you on with your coat."
"It's called being a gentleman, Pacey," Joey snaps. "I'm surprised you've heard of it!" Undaunted, he continues to show Joey the evils of A.J.'s ways. "And this party he's supposedly taking you to, I bet it doesn't even exist! And if it does exist, I will lay you money that our boy wonder over there seizes the first possible opportunity to get you alone!"
Suddenly, it dawns on them that the boy wonder himself is in the room, within earshot, and looking tremendously uncomfortable. "Stay," Joey tells Pacey the puppy, then crosses over to A.J. who, on cue, tells her she looks amazing. Looking almost apologetic, she tells him she should get her coat. And again, on cue, he helps her on with it, a move not lost on Pacey.
Cut to the party, which is at a rather large, beautiful home owned by A.J.'s former mentor, a mathematician. A.J. presents Joey with a large mugful of a questionable beverage as they stargaze. Joey enquires about whom the other party guests are. "Grad students mostly ... some astrophysicists ... left-leaning impoverished academics, can't you tell?" "And how would I tell?" she smiles.
A.J. attributes it to cheap haircuts, unfortunate fashion sense and pretentious taste in beverages, taking a sip of his own to illustrate his point. "It's mead. It's what Beowulf drank before he slew Grendel." He tosses out his drink just as Joey raises hers to her lips. "You know, I wouldn't," A.J. stops her. "It's --" "Can't I have some?" she asks as he pours her drink out. "No, it's alcoholic," he explains. Joey explains that she thought college guys looked for opportunities to get high school girls all liquored up.
"Only ones with very little imagination," A.J. replies. "Alcohol isn't exactly the most sophisticated way to seduce a girl." Off the look on her face, he tries to explain his last statement. "I mean, there are better ways to go about it." Off the look on her face again, he tries to re-explain himself. "Not that I'm ... I mean, I wasn't ... I'm not planning on --"
She decides to rescue him and put him out of his misery. "Uh ... where's everyone going?" A.J. informs her that as it's a cloudy night, viewing conditions aren't exactly clear, although it could clear up before midnight as that's the best time for viewing auroral displays. He frets that Joey might "turn into a pumpkin" if he keeps her out that late, but she replies that she won't, although she might freeze to death. She suggests going inside to mingle with the astrophysicists, but he suggests taking a walk first. As visions of Pacey's premonitions flash through her head, she hesitantly agrees.
Meanwhile at the school play, Jack distributes programs to the audience, which includes Dawson, and Andie runs around like the proverbial chicken with her head cut off. "Oh, Dawson, there you are!" she wails. "Where's Pacey?" "Uh, as director shouldn't you have a better idea of that than I do?" he answers, ever-helpful. Jack asks his sister what's wrong, and she explains that with 20 minutes til curtain call, the lead actor is nowhere to be found. Jack's sure he's seen him, though, and Dawson offers to look for him. "Don't look, just find, please?" Andie begs. "And tell him not to worry, I'm not going to kill him 'til after the show."
And where oh where can our master thespian be? In the gym, shooting hoops -- where else? Dawson approaches him just as Pacey, fully costumed, scores a basket. "How'd you find me?" Pacey asks, startled. "I have the misfortune of knowing how your brain works," Dawson replies with a smile. Pacey misses his next shot, then reminds Dawson that the last time they were on a basketball court together, Dawson broke Pacey's nose.
Dawson isn't up for a trip down memory lane, er, court. He snatches the ball away from Pacey and tells him they don't have time for this. "Just a couple more," Pacey insists. "You know, it helps. It's part of the whole acting process." Mollified with his reasoning, Dawson passes him the ball. "So, what are you so nervous about? It's not like you've never acted before."
"Yeah," Pacey agrees, but then reminds Dawson how many times it took him to actually get the sea creature thing right. "Good point," Dawson muses. "Yeah," Pacey replies. " And how many people were watching me? And for that matter, how many ex-girlfriends were there counting on me to do a good job?"
It's Dawson's turn to play now. "Let me ask you this. Acting ...do you like it? You having fun?" "I kinda got blackmailed into the whole thing," Pacey admits, "But yeah ... I'd have to say it's been fun. Actually, it's been a blast." "So then, go on stage tonight and have a blast. That's all that matters -- find what you love to do and do it." Pacey snickers ironically. "This, coming from a guy who just gave up his life's passion to hang out with the underachievers in fourth period study hall, right?"
"I didn't give it up," Dawson corrects. "I just decided to spread it around a little bit." "When did you become all Zen?" Pacey asks, semi-amused, semi-annoyed. "I thought you, of all people, would be freaking out big time right now." Dawson wrinkles his brow. "Why?" "I don't know," Pacey shrugs, knowing he's getting into dangerous territory. "Maybe because of Joey's big date with college guy?"
Predictably, Dawson takes a shot and misses at that exact moment. "I really suck at this game," he mutters, and one wonders which game is he exactly talking about, hmmm? "All right, come on, Olivier," he gestures towards Pacey. "Your public awaits."
Pacey's not so keen to let the subject drop, though. "What-what if this guy is some big sex maniac?" "Joey's a big girl," Dawson affirms, trying his best to sound nonchalant. "I'm sure she can take care of herself." "Take care of herself?" Pacey echoes. "That's all you've got to say about this? You know we're talking about Josephine Potter, the girl whose destiny is intrinsically linked to your own?" Dawson's reply is terse. "It had to happen eventually. You said that yourself. Let's go." With that, he turns and walks out of the gym, Pacey lagging behind him.
Back in the auditorium, Jen motions to Henry, who is wandering around aimlessly looking clueless (for a change). He sees her and walks over, puzzled because he thought they were supposed to meet out front and even more puzzled because Jen has brought someone else along on their date ... "Henry, I'd like you to meet my Grams."
Grams greets him cordially, and he does the same in return, but the expression on his face indicates he is clearly dumbfounded to have a chaperone for the evening. Apparently, so is Grams, who asks her granddaughter why she didn't tell her Henry was coming, as she would have stayed home to give them some privacy. In lieu of an answer, Jen suggests they take their seats as the lights begin to dim, and manages to insert Grams in between herself and Henry, who is none too pleased about the arrangement.
As the play begins, Andie runs about like a rabid puppydog backstage, tossing out directions and encouragement willy-nilly. All of a sudden, Pacey enters, and Andie almost hits the roof, telling him she sent his understudy intto make-up 15 minutes ago. Pacey thinks that's probably a good idea, because he can't go through with the play.
Andie won't hear of it, and begins dressing him and throwing props at him (not the verbal kind) while telling him he's just going to have to deal with it and get out there -- she's long since given up on him knowing his lines word-for-word, the general gist will do at this point. She shoves him through the wings and he blindly stumbles onstage, where Corrie has given him his cue and is waiting for him to deliver his first line. The audience is fraught with antici ... pation (sorry, bad Rocky Horror reference there), Andie makes a constipated face backstage, Corrie looks like she's about ready to have kittens ... and then Pacey speaks, the beginning of a flawless performance. (natch)
Speaking of flawless performances, A.J. is feeding Joey line after line of sophisticated academic philosophy, meanwhile, in an effort to win her over. He asks if she wants to go to an Ivy League school and she replies she doesn't know, but she does know if she doesn't try, she'll always wonder. "Wonder what?" A.J. wonders (tee hee). "Oh ... If I was good enough, smart enough ..." ("... and dog gone it, if people liked me!" -- sorry, bad Stuart Smalley / Saturday Night Live reference there) "... to do something really important with my life," she finishes.
A.J. is impressed by her drive and hypothesizes that maybe sometimes that
girls who lose their mothers when they're really young are really driven to
succeed. "Like Madonna?" Joey laughs. Without humour, A.J. replies he was
thinking more along the lines of the Bronte sisters. Joey nods thoughtfully.
"For a while, I thought I liked art." "But now you don't anymore?" he
prompts.
"Think about it from the particles' point of view," A.J. whispers.
"Explicably drawn to something, unable to resist ..." Oh, bleargh. They
kiss, of course, then Joey pulls away with the Lamest Excuse Ever for ending
it: "Um ... I just remembered I'm supposed to meet someone somewhere." A.J.
can't believe his ears. "Now?" "Yeah," she apologizes. "Can we go?" He
agrees, and they leave.
On stage, Barefoot in the Park is going very well -- a drunken "Paul"
climbs up a rafter brays down at his lady love to get her attention and
declare his love. Andie looks on, satisifed, from backstage.
Next thing you know, it's a wrap, and the after party is in full swing. Jack
presents his sister with a bouquet of flowers, and she gratefully thanks him
for pulling together such a fantastic party in one afternoon. "One word
about how my people excel at decorating, and you're dead," he quips.
Jen offers her congrats to Andie, too. She looks pained standing with Grams
and Henry, who look equally pained to be there. Finally she can stand it no
longer and tells them to grab some punch and she'll be right back, then runs
over to where Pacey is. "You know, you better watch out," he teases her. "I
think Grams is moving in on your date." "And I think you had better
stick to comedy that's scripted," she snaps.
Pacey grins and thanks her for coming out. Jen replies she wouldn't miss it,
while he plainly points out that his entire family apparently did do just
that. "Dawson's here, though. And Jack," Pacey observes. "And of course,
you." "I am," Jen agrees. "But you know who's not here?" Pacey knows
that Jen knows that Pacey knows who Jen means, but he plays the obtuse
angle, regardless. "Uhhhh ... the critic from the Capeside Clarion?"
Patiently, he explains it isn't a big deal, he's merely dropping an
elective. "Film," Nikki states. "You dropped film. I thought that was
who you are." "It's part of who I am," Dawson corrects. "Remember at
your house, how you were talking about how there were so many different
things to be passionate about? Well, on that day I took all the movie
posters off my walls. Every last one." He continues, telling Nikki about a
particular memory he has ...
"I'm 10 years old. My parents have taken me to see Jurassic Park. I'm
sitting there, fourth row center, popcorn in lap, flanked by Mom and Dad.
These two teenagers walk in, a guy and a girl, probably about our age. They
sit in front of us and they proceed to make out throughout the entire movie.
And I remember sitting there just being shocked that anyone would rather
kiss than watch this miraculous fantasy unfold on screen, you know?
But actually I tapped the guy on the shoulder and asked if he wouldn't mind
keeping it down. He looked at me like, 'one day kid you'll get it.' And here
I am, all these years later, and I'm still not the kid who goes to the movie
theatre to make out, and I'm not the kid who sat between his parents. I'm
this third person who's so busy analyzing everything that I can't enjoy
anything. I mean, the other two guys, they were having fun. I'm just not
anymore. And that's why I dropped film."
Nikki raises an eyebrow at the conclusion of this little parable. "So ... uh, where are you gonna find this joy you once had, but have now lost?" "I have absolutely no idea," He replies flatly. "Any suggestions?" She shrugs. "Where were you when you had it last?" Dawson knows the answer to that, but doesn't want to admit it, so he just stares moodily into his plate and picks at his food.
Back to the after party, where Joey congratulates Pacey on a job well done. He's more interested in discovering what she's doing there in the first place ("Renaissance Man bail on you?") "No," Joey frowns, babbling to cover her awkwardness. "It's just that it was getting late and the clouds are moving in, and since it's overcast there's really no chance of actually seeing the Northern Lights from this latitude, plus it was getting cold so we just decided that--"
"He kissed you, didn't he?" Pacey cuts to the chase; it isn't as much of a question as a statement. "What makes you say that?" Joey asks, trying to twist out of the situation. "He'd have to be a moron not to." The look on Pacey's face says it all, but she can't see it. But just in case she can, he lightens the tone a bit. "And your lipstick is smeared all over your face."
Jey grins. "That's what I get for letting Bessie talk me into Very Berry, I guess." Pacey smiles, but he has more pressing issues on his mind. "So ... are you gonna see this guy again?" "I don't know," she shrugs. "I mean, what's the point? I mean, he's older than me, he's smarter than me, he lives far away -- a very not-insignificant problem seeing as I can't even drive yet -- how could I ever feel about him the way that I ..."
She doesn't even have to say it; he finishes her sentence for her. "... Feel about Dawson?" "No." Joey looks pained. "I was ... I was actually going to say felt." Pacey suppresses a wry smile. "Wanna know something, Miss Josephine Potter? I think the world may just surprise you yet. I mean, you fall in love, it doesn't work out, and you think that it'll never happen again. But it does. Believe me, it does. In the strangest of places."
Again, he's hitting her over the head -- bludgeoning her -- with a baseball bat, and she just cannot (will not?) see it. "What makes you such an expert, Pacey?" Joey frowns, and Pacey dances away from issue yet again. "I'm an actor. You know, a poor player strutting and fretting and all of the rest of that Shakespearian stuff. And as such, it is my job to understand the sophisticated inner workings of the human heart."
"I think I liked you better when you were brooding and defeated," she teases. Pacey laughs, but sees something over her shoulder which causes his smile to quickly evaporate. "I think your date may not be over so soon after all." Gesturing across the room, Pacey points out A.J. to Joey. "Well? Go on. You know you want to." "Okay," she smiles, handing off her drink to him. "Thanks." And then, Keith walks over to Amanda Jones, leaving a dejected Watts in his wake. Oops. No, wait ... that'd be Some Kind Of Wonderful. Same difference.
"JEN!" Someone shouts from high above the rafters ... literally. As the crowd at the after party looks upward, we see Henry hanging from the rooftop of the room, in a stupid, moronic, dumb, idiotic replica of the scene in the play. Understandably, Jen is absolutely mortified. "Henry? What the hell? Get down!" He won't, though. "I'm not kidding," Jen demands. "Get down from there!"
"I'll come down when you say it loud and clear," the little snot whinges. (Oh God, can you tell how much I despise Henry?) "What? Say what?" Jen is turning all shades of red with embarassment at her "date's" display of deep immaturity. But for reasons unbeknownst to anyone, and in direct conflict with her wise-beyond-her-years, feminist persona, she goes along with Henry's little Call-And-Answer game. What. Ever.
"I, Jen Lindley ..." Henry begins, and Jen grudgingly repeats. "... Am embarrassed to be here on a date with Henry Parker ..." (Well, duh! Who wouldn't be embarrassed at this little display?) "... Am embarrassed to be here on a date with Henry Parker. Now get down!" she hisses. The brat isn't finished, though. "I ignored him ... I've taken him for granted ... and I've spent the last five months of my life making him miserable. All to disguise the horrifying fact that I like him," he snivels.
(Can you say LOSER, boys and girls? ... I knew you could.) To her credit, Jen is as pissed as all get out, and refuses to partake in Rudolph's Reindeer Games any longer. "Henry, Get. Down." The chill in the air is palpable, and finally, the twit buys a clue and realizes the enormous error of his ways. "Could someone get a ladder?" he asks the crowd meekly, getting laughter (deservedly so) for a response.
Down by the docks, Joey and A.J. go for their second walk of the evening. She asks what made him come back, but he replies that he never left. "Since I dropped you off, I've been sitting in the parking lot, thinking about how when someone says something you don't understand, you're suddenly faced with this rather limited window of opportunity in which you can ask the person to explain what they meant, or spend the rest of your life pretending you understood them. I just thought I'd reopen the window. Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Joey replies quickly. "I kinda panicked. You know that thing called grace
under pressure? Well, I don't really have it, not even a smidge." "Joey, it was just a kiss," A.J. replies. "It wasn't the running of the bulls in Pampalona."
But she explains that when he kissed her, she suddenly realized that she was standing there with a person who had skipped about a zillion grades and who knew everything about everything. "And I knew that the minute that you stopped
kissing me, you would realize that you had made a terrible mistake, because ..." Faltering, she sighs but continues at his prompting. "... because most things that you talk about, I don't even know what they are. Things like literature and science and history just pour out of you like you're this Good Will Hunting impersonator. Is there anything that you're not an authority on?"
Proving that The Creek has more mozzarella than Pizza Hut's deep dish with extra cheese, A.J. tells Joey, "Girls. Beautiful girls ... their hopes, their dreams, what makes them tick. I wish I knew a little more about that." In an even more vomitous reply, Joey croons "Me too," but A.J. tells her he thinks she knows more about that than she thinks she does, and I get confused because last time I checked, Joey was heterosexual and I don't get why she needs to know things about beautiful girls' homes and dreams, unless she was referring to herself, in which case, it wasn't very clear. Anyway ...
"So ... I guess we never got to see the Northern Lights," Joey segues, anxious to steer clear of the obvious. A.J. shrugs in a been-there-seen-that manner, but Joey implores him to tell her about it. "It's like the sky you've known your whole life, the one you've looked up at every night as a kid," he muses. "Only, you look up at it and it's like it's on fire and you're flooded with all these brilliant colours." "Sounds kind of scary," she smiles. "Yeah, it is," he nods, trying to look solemn. "But beautiful." (That noise you hear is the sound of yet another falling anvil ...)
It's his party, and he'll clean if he wants to ... Jack and Andie sift through the remnants of the after party, discussing the evening's events. Jack apologizes for his father's no-show, but Andie doesn't mind. "That actually kinda made it better. You know, all these people who don't know me so well, who believe in the person I am today, they don't really know everything that I used to be. It was great. The whole night, I felt like ..."
"The belle of the ball?" her brother smiles. "No," Andie smiles back. "More like me, like myself." "Now that is some of the best news I've heard in a long time," Jack replies. Andie confesses she had this mantra while she was in hospital: Structure and Purpose. "I know it was just a stupid little school play, but that's what it was to me: structure and purpose," she explains. "I think when you have something like that in your life to hold on to -- not another person, but more like a part of yourself, like a goal or a dream -- and the whole world falls apart around you, you'll be okay."
Jack regards her curiously. "And you are okay?" "Yeah," Andie smiles sincerely. "I'm great." But beyond Andie, Pacey sits alone outside and Jack gestures towards him. "Sure you're that great?" Grabbing her coat, Andie gives her brother a look. "There's one way to find out."
Outside, she approaches Pacey and sits down. "You weren't exactly the life of the party tonight," Andie begins quietly. "No," he agrees. "I ... I guess I got a lot of stuff on my mind." She smiles sympathetically and comments that it was a shame his parents couldn't make it to the performance. "Well, as it turns out, there were a lot of people who couldn't make it tonight," he replies dryly. "So, c'est la vie."
Andie agrees, but still thinks it would have been nice for Mama and Papa Witter to see their son as the star of the show. "I think you and I both know who the real star of that production is," he tells her. "I mean, the actors, all we do is come on at the last moment and grab all the glory. Whereas the people who work behind the scenes, you guys are the ones that make everything happen. I mean, nobody even knows all the work that you guys do."
"They know." (They sure do now, as Pacey just paid homage to the crew members of DC in his little speech there ...) Andie comments that now that he's completed the play, Pacey is going to get a guaranteed C in English this semester. "You're disappointed, aren't you?" he asks his former girlfriend. "About my pathetic return to the depths of academic mediocrity?"
She insists she isn't, though. "Girls have these idiotic, misguided notions about guys. I mean, we think we can spruce them up and turn them into something they're not." (no kidding ...) Gallantly, Pacey replies that he wasn't exactly what one would call a luxury model. "I did have fixer-upper written all over me." Andie teases that he was pretty much priced to sell, but he ignores the joke and gravely replies that yes, he was. "Damaged goods."
"The thing is, Pacey, I was wrong," Andie admits, about a full season too late. "There was never anything about you that needed fixing up. And there never was and there never will be, because you're perfect as you are." He returns the compliment, and they embrace. "So," Andie grins, "What do you think my next project should be? It definitely won't be involving you." "No, no, my people will certainly not be calling your people," Pacey grins. Andie suggests something with an all-girl cast, but Pacey prefers something with puppets. (more easily manipulated, I suppose?)
Speaking of puppets, Henry and Jen are also strolling outdoors on this fine Capeside evening. "I can't remember when I've felt this depressed," Henry whines. "Oh yeah, ten minutes ago." (Shut. UP.) "You'll get no sympathy from these quarters," Jen glowers. "I know," he sighs. "For a second there, I thought I saw you smiling." (Uh, deluded much?)
Jen shakes her head in disbelief. "You are not like other boys, has anybody told you that before?" "Yeah ... you," he replies dumbly. It's Jen's turn to sigh now. "It's just that you've got to stop it with these grand gestures, these larger-than-life public declarations. You're like the Christo of teenage crushes."
Henry asks who Christo is. "He's kinda like a sculptor," Jen explains patiently. "He does these really large ... nevermind." She exhales in frustration. "It's just that you don't have to try so hard." (I'm sorry, but after tonight's little escapade, I'd be telling him he didn't have to try at ALL anymore ...) In his best pretending-not-to-be-a-stalker voice, Henry states, "It's just that I wanna know you, Jen Lindley. I wanna be honest with you. Totally and completely honest." (And you can apparently accomplish that by swinging from the rafters like a lovesick chimpanzee?)
Jen dismisses his notions of sincerity and truth-telling. "Nobody can ever be completely honest, Henry. No one over the age of six, that is." (I rest my case.) "I can," Henry tells her confidently. (And again, I rest my case) Jen studies him a moment, then realization dawns on her face. "You know what, you can, can't you? I don't know what it is or how you manage to keep it for so long, but you've definitely got that thing that children have." (And yet again, I hereby do rest my case)
"You have it, too," Henry tells her in his best pre-schooler tone. "You've just forgotten about it." "No, Henry," Miss Woman Of The World replies, "I don't think that I ever had it." "Then I can teach you," he insists. "Just say whatever's in your heart right now, right at this instant." To my absolute horror, Jen gives The Child a quick kiss. (Don't all those child-rearing books advise against rewarding toddlers after they throw temper tantrums?) "Is that honest enough?" (It's honestly revolting, does that count?) "Almost," he tells her. "I'd say about 70 per cent." (And I'd say you're damn lucky you got that far, after the foolish display you put on this evening!) In typical 15-year-old boy fashion, he then proceeds to ram his tongue down her throat, and I go channel surf until this revolting little display is over.
A.J. drops Joey off at Casa Potter, under the watchful eyes of Bessie, who tells her younger sister that there's another boy here to see her. Joey walks around to the rear of the house, where she finds Dawson. He swears to her he's not there because of her date, which he knew about because Pacey told him, he's just there because suddenly, he felt very lost.
"How did you think you were gonna feel after you took down all your posters and suddenly decided to drop film class?" Joey asks. He admits he didn't actually think, he just did. "And now you're thinking, and you realize you don't know who you are anymore?" Joey fills in the details for him. "Something like that, yeah," Dawson admits quietly. "I think you lost your True North," Joey comments. "The fixed point in the night sky that you guide yourself by." He turns that around by asking her what her True North is. "I don't think I have one," Joey admits.
They stargaze in silence for a moment, when Dawson points out a bright light in the sky. "The Aurora Borealis," Joey tells him. "The Northern Lights? Aren't we a little far south for that in Capeside?" he asks. "Apparently not," she shrugs. "It's funny, I have been waiting all night for this and it happens now. With you." (Gee, that's a really nice thing to say ...) Instantly, Dawson gets an inferiority complex. "Is that a bad thing?" "No," Joey sighs. "It's just ... it's just typical." They continue to watch the lights in silence.
Fade to black ...