February 17. After school got out on Thursday, he went to his beachside workshop to continue restoring the True Love. He'd only been working at it for an hour when he heard a car horn beeping loudly outside. He walked out of the shop to see a patrol vehicle for the sheriff's office had pulled up alongside the road. The car window came down and he recognized Officer Callaghan. His stomach twisted with nerves. "Hey, Brendan. Is something wrong?"
"Hi, Pacey," the deputy greeted him with a friendly, familiar tone. "Glad I found you. Your dad said you'd probably either be here or at the Potter's house. He wants you home ASAP. There's a family situation."
The knots in his stomach tightened. "Uh… okay."
Callaghan smiled. "I see you got your bike." He nodded towards where it was propped against the side of the workshop. "You can throw it in the back and I'll drop you off home."
He returned to the shop to set aside his work and gather his coat and backpack. After tossing his bike in the far back of the SUV, he got into the front passenger seat. Once his seatbelt was buckled, Officer Callaghan put the car into gear and pulled onto the road. "So, what's the family situation?" he asked.
"The Sheriff wouldn't say." Then he was silent for a moment. "So, uh, from what I've heard, I think this is the second time you've been in a deputy's vehicle this week." He threw him a shit-eating grin.
Sighing, he shook his head. "At least I'm in the front seat this time."
The officer let out a hearty laugh. "That Doug sure is a stickler for doing things by the book. He was that way in high school, too."
"Isn't that a good thing for a law enforcement officer?" he questioned, side-eyeing him.
"Well, sure," Callaghan replied. "But, you know, you're his brother. I would've just given mine a swift kick in the ass and sent him on home."
He shrugged. "I should just be glad Doug didn't cuff me."
More laughter. "Oh, so, uh, I think I might've scared your friend. You'll have to apologize for me."
"What friend?" His brows furrowed in confusion.
"Bessie Potter's little sister. I went to their house first, you know, looking for you. She said you weren't there and she hadn't seen you since school let out. I said 'thanks' and left, but I think she looked kind of worried. I hope she doesn't think you're in some kind of trouble, or that something's happened to you. You might wanna give her a call when you get home and ease her pretty little mind."
He frowned at the officer's last comment. "Yeah, thanks, Brendan. I will."
Callaghan looked over at him and grinned. "She's cute."
His mouth pursed into a hard line. "She's seventeen years old, man."
"My comment was directed at you, Pacey." The deputy looked affronted. "I'm happily married to the love of my life, thank you very much. Why go out for hamburger when I've got steak at home? You get what I'm saying to you, kid?"
He threw him another side-eye. "Oh, yeah. I get it."
They soon turned onto the street where he lived. Once they were in front of his house, he thanked Officer Callaghan for the ride and retrieved his bike. He then came home to find his eldest sister, Carrie, sitting on the living room couch, sobbing, while their mother sat next to her, trying to soothe her. His dad was pacing the floor, shouting. His three young nieces were running around, fighting and screaming. In a word, it was chaos. He shut the front door behind him. "What's going on?" he asked tentatively.
"Your sister left her husband," his dad replied. "And then just showed up on our porch." The Sheriff turned to his daughter. "You know, a phone call would've been nice, Carrie."
"I didn't have time for a phone call, Dad," his sister cried. "I threw clothes in some bags, grabbed the girls, and left."
He glanced between them. "Why did you leave Jerry?"
She choked out another sob. "I caught him cheating, and with a senior airman's wife, no less, who was supposed to be my friend. We go to their house all the time for drinks and cards. That backstabbing bitch." She continued to cry. When she got command of her breathing, she spoke again. "And when I confronted him about it, he said all sorts of horrible things."
Anger flooded his gut. "You did the right thing, Carrie. You don't deserve to be treated that way."
She began crying even harder. "As soon as he left for work today, I told myself I wasn't going to put up with it anymore. I tried to explain to the girls, but… they don't really understand what's going on. Piper thinks whatever happened must be my fault and I just need to go home and apologize to Daddy."
"The kid is probably right," his father snapped.
He stared, dumbfounded. You've got to be kidding me.
"John, we need to be supportive," censured his mom. "Carrie just needs some time and then I'm sure she and Jerry will work everything out, won't you, honey? It's probably just some huge misunderstanding and once you two talk it out, everything will be fine."
Unbelievable. His sister buried her face in her hands and began to weep. He turned and walked out of the living room, heading for the kitchen. Then he picked up the telephone and dialed Joey's number.
"Potter Bed & Breakfast."
"Hey, Bessie. Is Joey there?"
"No, she went to the school to work on her mural. Are you all right, Pacey? Brendan Callaghan was here looking for you earlier…"
"Yeah. Everything's fine. He just had to get a message to me from my dad."
Once he hung up with Bessie, he returned to the meltdown happening in the living room. "Uh… Pop, is there a reason you wanted me to come home?"
His dad stared at him and then emphatically gestured to Carrie. "Your sister needs to be taken care of!"
Not sure what the hell he was supposed to do, he returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Then he gathered up his nieces, who were having a fit, pinching and hitting each other, and set them down at the kitchen table. "How about some grilled cheese sandwiches?" he asked them.
"Yeah," she said in unison.
"I'll only make them if you're quiet," he said. "Running around here screaming isn't helping your mom."
Once they had sandwiches and glasses of milk in front of them, the girls quieted. He then returned to the living room carrying a hot cup of tea. He set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch where his sister sat in time to hear his father ask Carrie what she was doing—or not doing—to make her husband stray to another woman. His sister screamed, "I hate you!" back at him, and then broke down into another fit of weeping. He found himself walking back to the front door, grabbing his mom's car keys from the small table in the hall, and escaping outside.
Twenty minutes later, he was inside the school, standing next to Joey and gazing over the mural she'd painted featuring Chinese characters that somehow highlighted the school unity theme. For weeks, she'd refused to tell him what she was going to paint and then refused to let him see it. Catching her unawares had its benefits. She was in the middle of a passionate speech about the power of art and so, naturally, he had to make a smartass comment.
"And that's what I like about you, Pacey. You just… go so deep."
He gazed at her, smiling. Did she just admit to liking him? "Thanks."
Joey turned back around to take in her mural and was silent for several moments. "You want to help me cover it back up?"
"Sure. Happy to help."
They were soon packing up her supplies. She glanced at him, chewing on her lip. "So, uh, Brendan Callaghan came by the house today looking for you."
"Yeah, I know. He found me out at the workshop. My dad was looking for me and wanted me to come home for the Carrie Crisis."
"Well, I don't like the cops showing up at my house, Pacey."
Something in her tone caused him to stare at her. It sounded almost like a warning. There was an unexpected weight behind her words. It made him nervous, but he didn't quite understand why. "I'm sorry, Joey. My dad knew I'd either be with you or with my boat."
She nodded. "I understand. I just don't want it to become a habit. The Potter's have had enough negative ties with law enforcement to last us a lifetime. We already had one family business ruined because of it, and my dad dragged the Potter name through the mud. I refuse to go through anything like that again. The last thing we need is for the bed and breakfast to be tainted. People talk, Pacey. The less dealings we have with the police, the better."
Frowning, he nodded his understanding. "I'm really sorry. I'll ask my dad not to send anyone around your house looking for me again."
Joey pursed her lips. "Thanks. Can you, uh, give me a ride home?"
He pulled the keys out of his pocket and then stepped forward, taking her hand in his and laying them in her palm. "You can drive us."
She gave him a half-smile and her eyes widened. He could tell she was a little nervous. "But it's almost dark outside."
"Well, then you should practice driving at this time of day," he said. "And I've got my mom's car. It's automatic, so it'll be easier."
When he was seated in the front passenger side of the wagon, he watched Joey buckle her seatbelt and turn the ignition. Then she shivered and turned the heat on high, air suddenly blasting out of the vents and onto the floorboards. She glanced at him a little apprehensively. "It's started snowing," she said while she pulled gloves from her coat pocket. "Maybe you should drive, Pacey," she fretted.
He smiled reassuringly. "It's only a dusting, and the roads aren't icy. You'll be fine, Jo. I wouldn't put you in harm's way. Trust me." She sighed and gave him a weak smile. "Okay, after you turn your lights on, put your foot on the brake and then put the car into Drive." He watched her gloved hand grip the gear shift, and she did as he told her. "Now, take your foot off the brake and gently press down on the gas pedal." The car started moving. "Good. Next stop: your house."
"That's it?" She threw him a look. "I've never driven at night before, and that's all the instruction I'm going to get?"
"Okay…" He thought for a second. "It's important that you don't stare at the lights of oncoming cars. Keep your eyes on your side of the road."
She nodded and stared ahead, making her way out of the parking lot. When they reached the road, she turned onto West Main Street. He watched her as she drove through the fading light and falling snow. Her fingers nervously tapped an unheard rhythm on the steering wheel, the sound muffled by the blue wool gloves she wore. Every now and then she checked the rearview mirror. The dim light of streetlamps accentuated her dark eyes and the curves of her face. A bandana was still tied biker style around her dark brown hair. She looked so damn cute.
"So, how old are your nieces?" Joey asked. "They're like seven or eight now, right?"
"Those are Amy's kids. She has two boys and they're older than Carrie's girls. The twins, Maddie and Audrey, are three, and Piper is five."
She smiled. "Those are cute ages."
Scoffing, he shook his head. "Don't be fooled. They're little monsters." Grinning to himself, he then yawned dramatically, stretched out and leaned back against the seat, and closed his eyes.
"Pacey!"
"Hmm?" He still kept his eyes closed.
"You can't leave me alone here! What if I do something wrong?"
"You won't, Joey. Just drive. Everything will be all right. Okay? Trust yourself."
She whimpered and he smirked. Then he pretended to take a nap, occasionally opening an eye to check on her. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her body language tense and alert, but after a few minutes, he saw her relax. Smiling to himself, he kept his eyes closed for the rest of the drive.
On Saturday afternoon, he sat in his brother's kitchen, painting an antique cedar chest a deep shade of blue. That morning, Doug had him coat it with paint primer and sand it. His brother also now sat at the table with him, cutting a print of Bird on Money by Jean-Michel Basquiat into small two-inch squares. "Isn't decoupage relaxing?" Doug sighed contentedly.
"I should be working on my boat, you know?" he muttered.
"Pacey, it's the middle of winter."
He shrugged. "Right. Now is the best time to get the work done so True Love will be ready to sail by the time summer is here."
Doug eyed him. "Why did you give your boat that name, exactly?"
"Uh… Well, I was broken up over Andie and I thought that since true love wasn't actually real, I could restore it or make it into something tangible." He sighed. "I don't know. It made sense at the time."
His brother hummed to himself as the music emanating from the living room stereo came to a stop. Doug then got up from the table, leaving the kitchen and disappearing into the other room to resume the music before quickly returning. "Do you still think true love isn't real, Pacey?"
He frowned. "Well, my boat is real."
"Ahh."
"…Don't leave me in all this pain, don't leave me out in the rain, come back and bring back my smile, Come and take these tears away, I need your arms to hold me now, the nights are so unkind…"
His paint brush froze as the words of the song playing infiltrated his mind, and he looked up, staring hard at his brother, who continued to cut paper with a nonchalant air. He scowled. "Interesting song choice, Doug."
His brother grinned. "Beautiful song. Beautiful voice. Beautiful woman." He cleared his throat. "So, uh, are you going to tell me who the girl is?"
"What girl?"
"Come on, little brother. The girl that's got you so frustrated that you wound up spending the night in a holding cell earlier this week."
He only sighed, and concentrated on painting the cedar chest.
Doug shoved his tongue in his cheek, eyeing him. "Let me guess. I don't think it's Andie. That really only leaves…" His brother paused. He felt a hot flush begin to creep up his neck and into his face. "I don't suppose it could be the girl whose family's B&B you spent several months renovating out of the kindness of your heart, the same girl who's been tying you into knots since you were 10 years old, could it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Dougie." He refused to look up and meet his gaze.
"Sure, little brother. Whatever you say."
Later that night, while Doug was at work, he grabbed the cordless phone and flopped down on the couch before dialing Joey's number.
"Potter Bed & Breakfast," she answered.
"Hey, it's Pacey."
"Hey," she said. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to let you know where I was. You know, in case you needed to get a hold of me for whatever reason."
"Are you in jail and is this your one phone call?" she quipped.
"Worse. I'm at Doug's. But I'm touched you think that you'd be my one phone call."
"You mean, I wouldn't be?" Her tone dripped with skepticism.
Humming, he paused before replying. "I have to say it's still Dawson, but ask me again once you've got your driver's license."
She snorted. "Well, that's probably for the best, Pacey. If you called me from jail, I'd hang up on you."
"Joey! Thank you for being the kind of friend who'd come help bail a guy out."
"I have no desire to ever set foot inside a police station or a jail again, or to have any more ties, however small and insignificant, to criminal offenders. That already happened once because of you and that Matt Caufield party, and I don't want any repeats. Best stick with Dawson."
"Thanks, Potter."
"So, what are you doing over at Doug's place?"
He stretched out on the couch, leaning his head against a pillow, and sighed. "My screaming nieces took over my bedroom. I was relegated to the living room couch, which meant my dad was forced to see a lot more of my face, and so he decided to send me to my brother's."
"What's it like staying with Doug?"
"It feels like I'm stuck in an episode of Will & Grace, except imagine that Will is a paranoid closet case. So, not much fun, I have to say. If only Jack would show up." Then he chuckled. "Of course, Debra Messing would be ideal."
Joey tutted. "So, uh, you told Dawson that my mural was great?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Because it is. You know what you're gonna say on Monday? You're giving a speech, right?"
She sighed into the phone. "I'm working on it." Joey then cleared her throat and it sounded like she was moving around.
"What are you doing, Potter?"
"Trying to get comfortable. I had to move some books off my bed."
He grinned into the phone. "You're in bed?"
"Well, I'm lying on top of it, yeah."
He brought his mouth close to the receiver, lowering his voice suggestively as he spoke. "What are you wearing right now?"
There was a long pause. "Pacey, you have the subtlety of a brick and the depth of a shot glass."
"Thank you." He smiled. "So, tell me something, Potter."
"What?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Anything. What do you want to talk about? I'm bored here and don't want to hang up yet."
She waited a moment before replying. "Hmm… Oh, so, I told A.J. about your theory regarding Jo March and Laurie."
"Little Women?"
"Yeah. I have to say he doesn't agree with you. He has the same opinion as I do. He said Jo and Laurie were clearly made for each other."
Rolling his eyes, he scoffed into the phone. "Well, then you're both wrong. Anyway, I don't really want to talk about your poetry geek. That's actually the last thing I want to talk about."
"Okay…" she spoke quietly. "Well, then is there anything you want to talk to me about?"
Yes. "No, not really."
"You're a thrilling conversationalist, Pacey."
If only she knew how much he could say, how much he wanted to say, but didn't. "I can't wait to see your mural."
"You already saw it," she giggled.
"You know what I mean, Jo. I can't wait to see you show it off in front of everyone. I'll be so proud. My friend, the artist." She didn't reply. He wondered if she was embarrassed, or nervous. "Are you going to thank me in your speech?"
Joey let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. "Thank you for what?"
"For being the wind beneath your wings," he quipped.
"You're not going to break out into song, are you?"
"Don't tempt me, Potter."
The sound of her laughter was like sunshine after a long, cold winter, and everything inside him melted.
February 23. It had been embarrassing enough to put up with people's stares and asinine comments about the shiner on his face while working his shift at the video store. Now he sat on Doug's couch, his face bruised and his soul weary, as Joey chastised him for coming to her aid—defending her honor and seeking justice for the wrong done to her. There she stood, frowning at him. He bristled at her angry glare. What had he ever done to her? Matt Caufield deserved what he got for vandalizing her mural, and he'd deserve whatever was coming to him at the disciplinary committee hearing tomorrow.
Why was Joey always so angry, always jumping down his throat, when he was only ever trying to help her? This was so unfair. Christ, he couldn't win with her no matter what he did. But as angry and hurt as he felt by her reaction, beneath it all he knew how much he loved her. And he knew that he always would. How the hell did he even wind up in this situation? Fuckin' Dawson, that's how.
Angered by the feelings she stirred in him, frustrated at the hopelessness of them and the fact almost everything he did for her went unappreciated, he crossed his arms over his chest, protecting himself from her verbal onslaught. "Don't think I ever cared here," he spat caustically. "I was only doing Dawson a favor." And then out of his anger and frustration, he spilled the whole agreement he'd made with their best friend to look out for her at the start of the school year.
"Is that what this is about?" she demanded.
"What?"
"Us. You and me. I thought that—" She broke off, shrugging.
He stared at her. "You thought what?"
She pursed her lips into a hard line of disappointment. "I guess I thought something else, Pacey."
He watched hurt cloud her brown eyes and shadow her face before she turned from him and walked out of the apartment without another word. His heart wrenched. He hadn't intended to hurt her, and never thought he even had the ability to. It's not like she cared, not the way he did, and so he'd needed to lash out, angry that he cared so much and she seemingly cared so little despite all he had done for her.
Doug suddenly appeared from the kitchen. "So, I was right. Joey's the girl."
"Were you listening to our conversation?" His brows furrowed as he scowled.
"I would've had to leave the apartment to not hear your conversation, Pacey," his brother said. He paused. "Do you want my opinion?"
"No," he snapped.
Doug shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, you're going to hear it, anyway. It seems to me Joey sounded awful upset at the idea that you don't actually care about her," his brother mused. "That the only reason you've been spending so much time with her is because Dawson asked you to, not because you want to. And for her to react that way, well…" He shrugged, the sentence trailing off. "And I have to say, her coming all the way over here to berate you for fighting a school bully on her behalf, well that seems kind of an overreaction. In my humble opinion, of course."
There was that word again. Overreaction. He knew he did the right thing by bringing Matt Caufield to justice, no matter what she said. Why did it matter to her whether he got suspended or not? Or, as she put it, whether he 'pumped gas for the rest of his natural born life?' She seemed upset that he would risk 'throwing away his future' and all for her. Was it possible that Joey cared about him more than she let on?
The next day, after Matt Caufield got what was coming to him at the disciplinary committee, and he was given the rather unique punishment of mentoring a kid half his age, he walked down the hallway with Dawson as the 2:30 bell rang, signaling the end of school. Kids poured out of their classrooms and into the hall, eager to finally leave.
"Hmm." He could tell by the look on his best friend's face that Dawson was none too happy about letting Joey in on their little agreement. "Well, what do you think the odds are that you, yourself, will be as enlightened and forgiving as a person as Principal Green just was?"
"Not good, Pace. Not good."
He sighed. Now both of them were upset with him. "Let me make it up to you. How about you and me hang out? We'll go get some pizza or something? My treat."
Dawson gave him a half-smile. "I have to stay after school and help Nikki with something she's working on, and then I gotta head right over to the restaurant to help my mom. Aren't you supposed to be working at the video store today?"
"No, my schedule changed," he replied. "Thank you for quitting, by the way. I'm getting more hours."
His friend scoffed. "Sorry I can't hang out, but maybe you can do something with Joey after school."
They reached the hallway with the mural display, and he stared up at the plastic sheet that covered her vandalized artwork. "I'm not exactly her favorite person at the moment, Dawson," he said. She hadn't spoken to him all day, rebuffing any and all attempts at conversation, which was difficult since they had almost every class together this year. "I'm sure the last thing she wants to do is hang out with yours truly."
"I don't know about that. She's planning on repainting the mural, by the way. Hopefully this time around, since she knows exactly what she's painting, it won't take her nearly as long to finish it."
"Huh." He stared up at the covered wall.
Dawson then patted him on the shoulder. "I gotta get going. Nikki's waiting for me. See ya, Pace."
He glanced at his best friend as he walked away. "See ya, Dawson."
"Pacey?"
He turned around to face the voice and smiled. "Oh, hey, Andie."
She offered a weak smile in return. It didn't reach her eyes. "Hey. So, um, what happened in the disciplinary hearing?"
"Well, thankfully I wasn't suspended, but I've been tasked with community service, so to speak," he replied. "The Capeside Mentoring Program."
She nodded. "That's actually perfect."
"Yeah? I'm kind of looking forward to it."
"What happened to Matt Caufield?"
He grinned and arched his brows. "He got expelled." Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "That guy's a real piece of work. Pathetic excuse for a human being."
She frowned, lowering her gaze from his.
"You know, I was kind of disappointed you weren't in there, Andie. I was hoping to see a friendly face."
"I'm sorry, Pacey. I wish I could've been on the committee today, at least for your sake, but it's just not a right fit for me anymore."
He eyed her for a moment. Something was wrong. "Are you all right, McPhee?"
Andie gave a half-hearted shrug. "I will be. I have to go talk to Principal Green about something. I'll see you later."
"Okay." He watched her walk away, his brows furrowing. Not long after, he was driving to the downtown hardware store. Once he purchased some white paint, pans, and rollers, he returned to Capeside High. Back inside the school, he saw most of the students had left for the day. Only a few appeared in the halls from time to time, those who were involved in extracurricular activities like Yearbook and Debate Club. He searched for a while until he found one of the janitors, who got a ladder out of a storage closet for him to use.
Once he pulled away the canvas drop cloth from the wall, revealing the vandalized mural, he poured white paint into a pan, dipped a roller into it, and then got to work. It wasn't long before he heard a familiar, welcome voice.
"What on earth?"
He turned. "Hey, Potter." His stomach tightened momentarily until he could see from her face and her demeanor that whatever anger she'd been feeling towards him had now dissipated. A bandana was once again tied biker style around her hair, which was now bound in two braids. She looked so damn cute it was all he could do to keep from grinning at her. They bantered about why he was there, how he had known she'd be repainting the mural, and why she should thank him for defending her honor. Then Joey did what she did best and called him on his bullshit. He could sense a spark between them, a change, if ever so slight.
"Pacey, if I was going to thank you for anything, it would be for being yourself, and, you know, not caring what anybody else thinks, and for knowing in your heart what's right and wrong, and…" She averted her eyes from his direct gaze. "And for being there this year when I needed you the most."
This was something he'd never expected. Her spoken appreciation warmed his bruised heart. Until Joey had said those words, he hadn't fully realized just how much he needed to hear them. Shielding his feelings, he lowered his gaze. "You're welcome."
After offering his help with repainting the mural, she said she'd only let him on one condition. "Be honest. The only reason you've been hanging out with me is simply because Dawson told you to?"
Butterflies fluttered inside, and he deliberately avoided eye contact as he added more white paint to his roller and turned towards the wall. "Yep. That's the only reason."
"You need to get a life."
He chuckled as he rolled paint over the old mural. They painted for some minutes without speaking again. "So, uh, I take it then that you're not mad anymore about the whole arrangement with Dawson?" he asked tentatively.
"No, I'm not."
He pursed his lips as he ran his roller into the pan. "You were pretty upset last night… And then you wouldn't talk to me all day. Why are you suddenly okay with it now?"
"Look, I know I was wrong to react the way I did last night," she replied. "It's like the time you spit in Mr. Peterson's face when he bullied Jack. On the surface, sure it can be considered shocking and uncalled for, but you were standing up for what's right and coming to the defense of a friend who couldn't stand up for himself. You're only doing what you believe is right, no matter what other people say and no matter the consequences to yourself, and you do all this because you care. I guess I was just… really worried that you'd get suspended again, and I felt guilty because it was over me and my mural."
He scoffed. "Me? Care?" He threw her a grin.
"Yes, you. And then today I realized that, despite you spending all this time with me just because Dawson told you to…" Her eyes glinted as she smirked knowingly. "I knew you wouldn't have stood up for me to Matt Caufield and risked suspension unless you truly cared."
"And how ever did you come to that conclusion, Potter?"
"It was something Dawson said to me, actually. He basically said, 'Pacey may be impulsive, thoughtless, and stubborn, but there can be no doubt he truly cares.' And when I think of everything that you've done for me this year…" The sentence trailed off.
"Yeah, that's me—impulsive, thoughtless, and stubborn," he quipped. "But at least I care. I guess I owe Dawson another one."
She shook her head. "Well, he wasn't entirely right. Are you impulsive? Definitely. Stubborn? Hmm… sometimes. But thoughtless? I don't think so. I mean, just look at this." She gestured to the once-ruined mural that had transformed into a blank white canvas and then gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling. "You are full of thoughtfulness, Pacey."
There was a sweet tenderness in her voice that filled him again with a sense of hope. Everything seemed to be melting inside him. "Um… just so you know, if it makes you feel any better about the whole thing, when Dawson asked me to look out for you and make sure you were okay, he only meant for a few days."
He watched as his words sunk in, their meaning registering in her face. Joey smiled, nodding. "And six months later, you're still here."
"I'm still here, Potter. And I'm not going anywhere."
Their eyes met and held. The implication of his words hung in the air. An invisible line stretched taut between them, and he felt her trust in him growing.
The emergency PTA Meeting on Monday evening was a disaster, parents and the school board butting heads over Principal Green. The meeting had been nothing but a shouting match and a thinly-veiled racist railroading of their principal, who had until Friday to change his ruling about Matt Caufield or resign. Reporters and protesters gathered outside the school the following day. Students were restless and class discussions often veered from the curriculum to their embattled principal and the controversial decision surrounding Matt Caufield's expulsion.
Joey's college beau, A.J., had shown up on Tuesday, much to his chagrin, and he was once again shoved to her periphery. She also reverted back to her indifference and unappreciation towards any and all help or encouragement he extended to her. But the cause was about more than simply Joey finally growing a spine and standing up for herself—it was about Principal Green and the injustice being inflicted on him. So, he was determined to do all he could to help her win this fight.
March. Early on Wednesday morning, he waited outside the school with flyers, hoping to head off students before they went inside. The plan was to skip their classes that day and launch a protest of their own outside the superintendent's office. He ran back and forth all over the student parking lot and the bus drop off, but in the end only managed to convince about twenty students to cut school and come to the protest.
Later that afternoon, after Joey threatened the superintendent with a three-hundred-signature petition that didn't exist and an even bigger rally in Principal Green's defense, the protestors all headed over to the Potter B&B, which had been set up as command central, to try and make good on those threats. Meanwhile, he went downtown and popped into some local shops run by friendly faces to tell them about the rally on Thursday. His dazzling people skills came into good use and he found most were more than willing to promote the rally and hang up any flyers he might bring around, not to mention the manager of the Rialto Theater who agreed to let them use it for the rally free of charge. He then headed back to the Potter's, where Jack, Andie, and Jen were busy working with Joey and their fellow classmates.
Although he was focused on the task at hand, the inescapable presence of A.J. and watching Joey gaze moonily at him was like a physical ache. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to press his lips to the back of her neck, to the base of her throat, and hold her close to his body. He wanted to talk to her and have those sparkling brown eyes fixed on him—only on him—and to see that impish, flirty grin directed his way. Instead he watched A.J. receive that grin and more when she turned to him and he kissed her.
The idea of Joey in a relationship with some college geek far off in Boston, while unpleasant, was nothing compared to the pain of actually seeing it with his own two eyes. This time there was no mistaking the feelings that were now raging through his veins. It was jealousy, raw and bitter. It was the heartache of unrequited love. It was undeniable. He tried to force it down, but it was no use. It flooded his gut like molten lava.
Jen suddenly appeared. "You okay?" she asked, as inconveniently perceptive as ever.
He escaped outside. Down on the waterfront, he walked along the pier in the freezing night air putting up flyers on all the posts. It wasn't long before Jen found him and tried her best to give him a pep talk about his impossible situation and being a true friend despite it—the Duckie to her Molly Ringwald. Of course, he was going to stand by Joey, defend her, protect her, encourage her. There was never any question. "I guess it just hurts, that's all."
"Well, that just means that it isn't pretend anymore," Jen said.
He sighed. Ever since A.J. had shown up, his loneliness and heartache were more palpable than ever. He didn't know how much longer he could stand it. Why had he fallen for Joey so hard, knowing nothing good would ever come of it, knowing how impossible it was? Why did it feel like he had cut his own heart out with a spoon?
Jen gave him another sympathetic look. "I still think you should tell her how you feel, Pacey."
"How can I? She's too far gone on this college guy. Anyway, it would be a big joke. Destined-for-mediocrity Pacey Witter loves Ivy-League-Dean's-List-bound Joey Potter. What do I have to offer her? She deserves a life where all her dreams come true, a life where she can have anything she wants."
"She doesn't have you," she said kindly. "And maybe you shouldn't sell her short. Just don't wait too long to tell her, okay?"
Shaking his head, he started walking towards the next post. "I can't. It'll ruin everything. I… I don't know what I'd do if she wasn't my friend anymore. The same goes for Dawson."
Jen walked beside him. "But you'll never know unless you do something about it. You gotta tell her soon. Or you'll go through life with this horrible feeling, regretting not telling her, and then it really will ruin your friendship."
Approaching the next post, he stapled another flyer to it and sighed.
It was past midnight when he returned to the Potter's, and some lights were still on inside the house. Yet the cars that had filled the driveway earlier in the evening were now gone. He knocked on the door and stepped inside, finding Joey sitting alone at the dining table in front of a laptop computer. "Hey," he said.
She looked up from the screen. "Hey."
Pursing his lips, he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. "So, the troops crashed for the night?"
"Yeah, it was late. And we've got a big day tomorrow. It was great they helped out for as long as they did."
Silently nodding, he took a seat at the table across from her. "Flyers are up all over downtown, the waterfront, the marina, and I put them in the windshield of every car on Windsor Drive, including the Caufield's, just to stick it to those rich assholes."
She offered a weak smile and returned her attention to the computer screen. She seemed unhappy about something that he guessed had nothing to do with their efforts to help Principal Green. There was something off about her. His brows furrowed as he turned and glanced into the living room. No one else was around. "Is everything all right, Jo?" he asked. "Where's A.J.?" He watched her jaw clench, and she stared hard at the screen in front of her.
Joey finally looked up at him. "He left."
"I thought you said he was staying until Friday."
"Yeah, I thought he was, but he said he had papers to write, or grade. Both? Who knows?" She sighed. "Me and Bessie got into a huge fight about using our house as ground zero. A.J. overheard and got uncomfortable, thought that he was to blame for it, and so he decided to leave. I guess family arguments are a little too much to handle when you've only been seeing someone for less than two months."
Apparently A.J. was no Duckie, he inwardly gloated. "He should've stayed since it's important to you."
She didn't respond, and only sighed as she tucked her hair behind an ear, and avoided looking him in the eye.
"Well, I'm here, Jo. Anything else you need me to do?"
She pursed her lips, thinking. "I can't think of anything that can be done at this time of night, but we'll start all over again in the morning and hopefully we'll have a decent turnout at the rally."
"All right." He stood up from the table and slipped on his coat. "Better head on home—" He paused. "Well, Doug's, anyway."
Joey followed him to the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He smiled. "Sure thing, Potter."
"Um, Pacey?"
"Yeah?"
She chewed on her lip and played nervously with her fingers. "So… uh, what do you think of A.J.?"
He blinked. "He's about as exciting as a slice of Wonder bread."
Joey threw him a look, her eyes narrowing, but he could tell she was also fighting a grin. "Well, he thinks you're a good guy," she said with an air of superiority. "And he says he's a good judge of character. He doesn't know you that well, though." Her lips curved into a teasing smile.
"He does seem like a nice guy, I admit, despite speaking Latin and loving poetry," he joked. "Anyway, goodnight." He turned and walked out the door.
March 3. On Friday afternoon, after Principal Green had walked out of school and most of the other students had gone home, he stood in front of Joey's repainted mural. With his help, and working nonstop through the weekend, it had taken her five days to finish it. He stared up at the Chinese characters meaning 'possibility.' Everything he wanted, everything he needed, seemed impossible.
After he got out of work, he went back to Doug's apartment. He was soon sitting on the couch waiting for the pizza he'd ordered to arrive, even though he didn't have much of an appetite. The day's events had depressed him. Feeling disheartened, he sat back against the couch and stared at the television, not knowing or caring what was on the screen.
There was a knock on the door. He glanced over to see if Doug would answer it and then remembered his brother had already left for work. Moving off the couch, he stepped over to the door and pulled out his wallet. As he opened it, he heard a sniffle and, surprised, he saw Joey standing there, tears filling her eyes.
His chest squeezed. "Jo?"
Her brows knitted together, and she shook her head gently as her face crumpled. She chewed her lip and tears began rolling down her face. "We did everything we could to not fail, and we still failed. We couldn't save Principal Green, and now he's gone," she cried.
Sighing, he reached out and pulled her inside the apartment. Then, to his surprise, she threw her arms around him and cried into his shoulder. Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around her and held her against him. His heart tumbled into the pit of his stomach. "It's okay, Joey," he whispered. "You did your very best, and no one could ask for more. I know Principal Green is proud of you, and what you did for him this week was nothing short of amazing."
"But it wasn't enough," she spoke tearfully into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.
"Sometimes our best isn't enough for some people," he consoled. "It doesn't change their minds or affect their actions like we hoped it would. Trust me, I know all about that. The blame for losing Principal Green falls on the superintendent and the school board and the bigots in this town—not you."
Joey took a few shuddering breaths and sniffled as she moved back and out of his embrace. "I know, Pacey," she said, nodding. "I just wish things had turned out differently. It isn't fair."
He shook his head. "No, it's not fair. Few things are."
"And all over a mural I painted. Here I was stupidly thinking art had power to unite and bring people together, had the power to move people and change hearts. I mean, what's the point?"
"Just because some jackass ruined the mural doesn't mean those things aren't true," he encouraged. "I bet the next thing you paint will be bigger and better, and you'll see just how powerful it can be. And I know Principal Green would never want you to give up, and because of Matt Caufield of all people."
She took a deep, calming breath. "Yeah, I know."
He stepped around her and shut the apartment door. "Do you want to hang out here with me for a while? I've got pizza coming."
She nodded quietly, still sniffling. He pulled her by the hand and they walked further into the living room. "There's nothing that good on TV on Friday nights, but maybe we can find something," he said as he sat down. She removed her coat and laid it over the back of the couch. Then she sat close to him, the warmth of her thigh against his. The butterflies in his stomach were trying to get out. "I take it A.J. isn't around at the moment," he probed. "Is that why you came over here?"
"No, I'm pretty sure he's in his dorm by now," she replied. "He usually is. I'll probably call him later, unless he's studying or writing papers. I came over here because I was upset and needed to talk to someone who'd understand, and you were the first person I thought of."
He tried to hide his smile as he picked up the remote and started flipping through channels. "World's Wildest Police Videos?" he offered. She threw him a look and he laughed. "The Jamie Foxx Show?" Flip. "Big Brother?" Flip. "Kids Say the Darndest Things?" Flip. "Boy Meets World?"
"That's fine," she finally answered.
He set the remote down on Doug's coffee table and leaned back against the couch, his arm brushing against hers. "So, uh, then I guess Dawson must be busy?" he asked, making an effort to sound casual.
"Dawson?" Her brows knitted.
"Yeah, I mean… I figure Dawson wasn't around and that's what made you come over to see me instead." He eyed her curiously.
Joey leaned back further and propped her feet up on the table, crossing her ankles. "I have no idea what Dawson is up to. I suppose he might be at Gail's restaurant. Would you rather I went over there? I'm sorry my presence irks you," she teased.
He smiled and shook his head. "No, not at all. You can come over here anytime you want, Potter."
She returned his smile. "Good."
The concept that he was the one Joey sought out when she most needed someone made his heart race, while a hopeful feeling rose in his chest. It seemed that their friendship had now grown to the point where she would go to him whenever she was upset or scared, instead of running to Dawson like she always did. He knew she finally trusted him—as a friend she could rely on—and reveled in the knowledge. Now the only question was would she ever trust him with her heart. He hoped time would tell, and sooner rather than later.
Not long after, the pizza arrived and they spent the rest of the evening in comfortable conversation.
The next day, while heading downtown to the video store, he noticed an empty lot in front of a large wall. The paint on the wall had long faded, where no doubt there once had been advertising of some sort many years ago. He then noticed a "For Sale or Rent" sign. He stared up at the wall. His mind swirled with Gretchen's advice about grand romantic gestures as well as everything Jen had said to him the night before the rally. Walking toward the sign, he read the phone number at the bottom and smiled. Maybe Jen was right—maybe every duck might have its day after all.