Dear Pacey,

So she knows. Is she going to say anything to anyone? You'd better hope not. One word to Dawson, you just know Mr Boy Morals will go to his folks about the whole thing. Once adults know, your school will get involved, any bad grade, any slip in a subject, any backtalk to a teacher, they'll document the lot, bring it higher: social services. Your dad will lose his job. You'll make the talk of the town. Again.

Okay perhaps I need to calm down. I have a really bad toothache. I'm just... I'm getting carried away with the fact you actually went around the whole not talking thing. I'm so, so grateful man. You don't know how much. Or maybe you do. Maybe that's the point. And there I go underestimating our friendship again.

Hang on, I'm away to get food. I don't know why I'm writing this because I could take as long a break as I want, it has no bearing on the writing of a letter, but hey. If we're going to start anew, there'll be no secrets. BUT! You know the whole 'caught with your pants down' thing? Or, your zipper, same difference when it comes to Joey because, let's face it, even the whitest of Disney characters could make the girl seem quite the prude, but don't feel the need you have to share every little detail, Pace. Trust me, there's deep and meaningful conversations through the post, innermost fears and thoughts and secrets. And then there's Pacey, and with Pacey, comes too much information...

Hey, dude. Back. Had me some potato chips. Damn, it's a long while till dinner. I got a new Johnny Cash album, you'd like it. Right, I suppose I'm avoiding the issue. Besides your issue. The reason we were fighting. Uh... it was a blend of family problems and girl trouble, right? Do you mind if we put Padre Witter and Daddy Krudski on the backburner for a bit, because I did the noble thing and talked to Theresa for you. Sorry, not for you. But because of you.

She said sorry for hitting you if that's any consolation haha! Ha... well, she apologised to me for hitting you, she knows you're like a brother. Do you remember the time we tried to seal the deal? (No not that deal sicko. Still laying your head in that Goddamn gutter?) Me, you and Dawson. Right out in front of our little fort. We took a shard of glass you found and pocketed on the walk home from school and then of course Dawson started crying about... disease and... he was a mighty intelligent kid for his time. What were we, nine?

Do you remember, we crept into your big brother's room and swiped his scout's army knife - still with the same idea in mind. I remember having to bully Dawson a full half hour, trying to convince him that you'd sterilised the thing! Then, of course, to prove nothing would happen you shoved up your sleeve and drew blood first, dropped the knife, fell to your knees and pretended to choke up! Man, that was classic. He squealed like such a girl! Is he still like that? Kind of... skittish? Skittish and... sissy?

I remember biting my tongue when you handed me Doug's knife, it hurt like hell, didn't it? But we couldn't even wince because Dawson would have chickened out. I think I forced a laugh, pretending that it tickled just so Dawson would actually go through with it. He was still adamant though because I remember you knocking him to the ground, picking up the knife from the dirt and scrabbling around, trying to pin him down so I could make the small nick. He was a lot heavier then though. I think it took the two of us to hold him still. Blood brothers.

Anyway, sorry about the digression there, I just... I love forgetting how long we've known each other because when random memories surprise me, I really appreciate them then. Sort of like a death... I think I'm closer to dead people than when they're alive, you know my grandparents and that, because... I know what I mean. That's all that counts.

Another mini digression there. Right! Focus. Focus, focus, hungry... I talked to Theresa. She was confused that I started talking about that night actually, the whole thing you told me about just you and her out back. She was probably half out of it herself that night, but saying that I don't think I came off well. When I was trying to subtly bring up the conversation it sounded like I was implying she led you outside and, I don't know, serviced you or something! It sounded entirely seedy! Then I prompted her about you two just talking things out. Really talking things out. I said you admitted about me and Trish coming up in conversation. "Oh," was her slow response.

She basically reiterated what you were trying to spit out, man. And I guess what I'm trying to say is, well, you know, I'm, hell I'll just come out with it: I'm sorry for not believing you. About... Tricia. I'm going to talk to her. I think. Do you think I should? Maybe I shouldn't. It might only upset her. She's probably over everything, maybe signing my cast was just a friendly thing, there was no deeper meaning thing, she wasn't concerned that I'd be waking up with her name every morning for six whole weeks. She... should I talk to her? What do you think? Maybe I'll leave it up to fate. I'll flick a coin. Right, tails I talk, heads I - I don't.

Would you look at that? My quarter says tails. But you know, I don't think I'm a fan of fate. I'm more a man of freewill. Woah, my hands are starting to sweat up. Why do you suppose that is? I can hardly hold my pen now... I'm, I'm going to sign off here, Pace. I - I hope it all works out with you. Wish me luck. No! Don't. Don't wish me luck. I don't believe in fate and luck and all that.

I'll heed one piece of advice of yours that has stuck in my mind all these years, with a fist in the air, "solidarity, hombre." Solidarity. You're laughing at me right now, aren't you? Well screw you Pacey because I have one up on you. Theresa told me something about that night, about you, that you apparently omitted in your account. Wink, wink Pacey you naughty, naughty boy you!

Later,

Will.