February 2010
New York, New York
"Pacey, Pacey, Pacey. Wake up! Today's the day!"
Pacey rolled over, groggy and irritated at being woken up this early. It was too early for Joey's enthusiasm.
"What day? What time is it?"
"Oscar nomination morning! It's 8:30, I already made the coffee. Nominations are getting announced in eight minutes!"
"Can't you just tell me when I wake up at a decent hour?"
"No! I thought you'd be more supportive."
"I love you, I support you, just not at 8 AM."
"We used to wake up earlier for this for school every morning."
"Yes, and that's exactly why I chose to work in an industry that allows me to sleep until noon."
"C'mon, Pacey."
Pacey opened his eyes and couldn't resist the big, brown eyes staring down at him.
"I hope you made the coffee strong."
Joey finally allowed herself to flash a smile that was more tongue than teeth.
"I did. I'll pour you a cup."
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and didn't bother to change out of his sleep clothes. As he walked into the living room, the phone rang.
"Who could possibly be calling at this hour?"
"It's probably Dawson, put him on speaker."
"Yello."
Hey, Pace.
"Let me put you on speaker. What time is it out there, anyway?"
5:35
"How can you be awake at that hour? Half the time I haven't even gone to bed yet by then."
I was actually so anxious I didn't sleep all night. This could be the biggest moment of my life. If I get this, I'll always be referred to as an 'Oscar-nominated screenwriter.' Nothing can ever take that away. It'll be the opening line of my obituary.
"I'm rooting for you, man."
Joey came out of the kitchen and put down two cups of coffee.
"You didn't put it on?"
"Did you tell me what channel it was? I haven't even taken my morning piss. Actually, I better do that."
"Hurry, we only have a minute before it starts."
Morning, Jo.
"Dawson, I don't think I can watch this. I'm too nervous."
We were nominated for WGA, so it's a good sign.
"Yeah, but it's no guarantee."
Pacey came back just as Anne Hathaway appeared on stage alongside an unfamiliar man.
"Who's the schlub standing next to Anne Hathaway?"
That's the President.
"I thought the President was black."
The President of the Academy.
"Oh, that makes more sense."
"Gosh, she's so pretty."
"Eh, you're prettier."
Not as pretty as you.
Joey laughed as the compliments sounded over each other.
"I love you boys. You're total liars, but I still love you."
The beginning of the announcements precluded any further debate.
You know what's going to happen, right? The whole story is going to be about Avatar versus Hurt Locker, Cameron and his ex-wife. The Oscar race is going to be all about who took which side in the divorce.
"Lucky for us, they both wrote original screenplays."
As if on cue, Anne Hathaway announced the category of Original Screenplay, starting with The Hurt Locker.
Here we go.
The President of the Academy took his turn to announce this category.
For Adapted Screenplay, we have Neill Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell for District 9, Nick Hornby for An Education, Dawson Leery and Joey Potter for Peter and Wendy…
"OMIGODOMIGODOMIGOD"
"Congrats, you two."
They said our names, right? I'm not hearing things?
"They said our names, Dawson."
"Can I go back to sleep, now?"
"No! Let's pop some Champagne. I think I have a bottle in the fridge from the last book I edited."
"It's not even 9 AM!"
"How often does your fiancée get nominated for an Oscar?"
"Hopefully a lot."
"We'll see about that. Now, go get the Champagne."
He reluctantly complied.
Did you hear the other two nominees?
"No, I stopped paying attention once they announced our names.
I can't believe it. District 9 had one of the best screenplays I've ever seen.
"What about An Education, I loved that movie. It was so brilliant and inspiring."
Pacey came back with the Champagne and poured two glasses.
"To Joey and Dawson, my two favorite people in the world, my oldest friends, and, now, Oscar-nominated screenwriters."
The next day
Joey walked through double doors reading DONOVAN PUBLISHING, the moment she entered the doors, everyone in the office stood up and started applauding. There were balloons and a banner reading CONGRATULATIONS JOEY! She buried her head in her hands. She was in shock. Various people walked up to her to shake her hand, hug her, and offer their personal congratulations. She took it all in stride. After the excitement subsided, she walked into her office and put down her bags. Seconds later, her assistant appeared with a cup of coffee.
"Everyone is so happy for you. We knew you could do it. I'm sure you're overwhelmed right now, but let me know when you want your messages."
"Might as well give them to me now."
She was holding a stack of papers.
"Most of these are people sending you their congratulations."
She skimmed through the papers, sorting them into two piles, one for the calls she'd need to return herself, the other for the calls her assistant could return.
"Who's David?"
"He just said he knew you from college."
Joey couldn't remember a David. She remembered an Eddie, a Charlie, an Elliot, but not a David. She put it on the pile of calls for her assistant to return.
"Oh, and Mr. Donovan asked you to stop by his office, when you had a chance."
"When I have a chance?"
"Those were his words."
"Since when does Mr. Donovan wait on my schedule?"
"Since you were nominated for an Oscar, I suppose."
Joey turned the corner of her lip up into a half smile. She wasted no time in starting to return the calls.
Burbank, California
A similar, albeit more muted, version of the same scene awaited Dawson when he walked into the studio. He was more concerned with where things left off on The Creek, so he went straight to the writer's conference room and put a quick stop to the outpouring of congratulations.
"Thanks, guys, but we're up against a tight deadline here."
"Okay, how do you want to end the episode? Petey pulls over, he and Sam get out of the car, and he kisses her. Then what?"
"She pushes him away and starts punching him."
"Right away?"
"No, she lets him kiss her for a bit. She's confused."
"Why not just have her kiss him back?"
"Where's the drama in that?"
"Why does everything always have to be dramatic?"
"Because that's why people watch it."
"Okay, so Sam is into the kiss, but she's confused by her feelings."
"Yeah, and they get into the car and drive the rest of the way home in silence."
"That's boring. What if she walked the rest of the way?"
"I like that."
"She can't walk, what, 5 miles? 10?"
"Let's say 6."
"Okay, 6 miles, that'll take her two hours."
"Well, she obviously won't actually walk the whole way."
"Have Petey drive alongside her at walking speed until she gets back in the car."
"Hold up. When does this episode air?"
"Uhh, let me check. March 3rd."
"And the next episode?"
"April 7th."
"Let's end the episode with the kiss. Start the next episode with everything we just said, but end this one with the kiss."
"That's one hell of a cliffhanger."
"Just think about it. It'll drum up excitement for the Oscars. And let's call the April episode Neverland."
"I don't know if the network will go for it."
Dawson grinned mischievously.
"If they have a problem with it, I'll have Steven give them a call."
New York, New York
I have Mr. Leery on the line.
"Put him through, and stop calling him that."
Line 1.
"Am I glad to hear your voice. Were things as crazy at the studio as they were at my office?"
Let me guess. Flowers, balloons, confetti?
"You got confetti?"
No. Actually, it was pretty quiet, we needed to finish up the last episode before the spring break.
"Which episode was that?"
Petey picks up Sam in Boston and kisses her on the way home.
"Let me guess, you're going to make an overdramatic interpretation of me pushing him away?"
No, we're going to do a cliffhanger. Sam is going to be into the kiss, and that's where it will end. It'll help build up some extra hype before the Oscars.
"That's smart. Promise me one thing."
Anything, Jo.
"When Sam sleeps with Petey, please don't have her lie to Colby about it. I can't deal with that again."
Silence.
"Dawson?"
It's just, I'm not sure I'll still be working on the show next season. They're already talking about the college years, and I want to end the show when Sam and Colby leave for college. They're just going to keep dragging it out until the ratings won't bear the production costs anymore.
"That's when the show should be begin."
Well, then you'd just have Felicity.
"No, it's just something my Freshman English professor said."
I don't get it.
"Never mind. Oh, David!"
Did you just call me David?
"No, I had a message from a David, and I had no idea who it was, he just said he knew me from Worthington. I bet it's Professor Wilder."
The one you kissed?!
"Don't remind me."
Joey, you have no idea turned on I was by that. It's probably the most singular factor that led to me rediscovering my feelings for you.
"What, you had some kind of fantasy of me with an older man?"
No, not that at all. It just made you so alive and happy. I loved seeing you break out of your shell like that and embrace new experiences.
She turned her lip up into another half-smile.
"Do you mind if I hang up? I want to call Professor Wilder back."
No, not at all. I have tons of calls I need to return myself. Love you.
"Love you, too. Always."
Always.
She looked up to see Mr. Donovan standing outside the door about to knock the on the open door.
"Sorry, I meant to come see you earlier."
She stood up.
"No, sit back down. I trust Heather told you that you should come by when you had a chance. I didn't mean to rush you."
"She did, but you're the head of the company."
"And you're an Oscar-nominated writer, but I do have golf game that I can't avoid. We can talk tomorrow if you'd prefer."
"Do you mind? I'm still overwhelmed."
"Not at all. Not to pry, but was that Pacey on the phone? Or, should I say, Petey?"
"Hahaha, no, it was Dawson."
"Colby?"
"Yup."
"Don't tell me anymore, then. I don't want to be spoiled. The missus and I watch every Wednesday night."
Joey scrunched her face up into a smile that disappeared almost as soon as it formed. She picked up the phone as soon as he left.
"Heather, did you call David back yet?"
Yes, he was actually the first call I made. I asked him for a little more information, and he said that you saved his life. Seemed a little fishy to me.
"No, he's right, I guess I did. It's David Wilder."
The bestselling author!? Why didn't he just say it was him?
"Because everything is always a game to him. I'm sure he wanted to see if I'd figure it out."
Should I get him on the phone for you?
"No, maybe tomorrow. Games are only fun if two people are playing them."
The next morning
Joey got out of bed, Pacey in a deep sleep as usual. She was not the type to take longer than necessary to get ready in the morning. She was about to walk out the door, but she hesitated. She put her bags down instead and took out her cell phone. She wasn't even sure the number would still be current.
Joey Potter, the girl who lived.
"Professor Wilder!"
Professor? I haven't taught a class in eight years. How many times am I going to have to tell you to call me David.
"At least once more, Professor Wilder."
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Anyway, I see you took my advice.
"How's that?"
Peter and Wendy, the screenplay is exactly what I told you to do with The Kiss. Everyone always ends Peter Pan with Wendy leaving Neverland. That's where you started it. It was brilliant.
At that moment, Pacey sauntered into the living room with one eye still closed.
"Lady, your scream could have woken the dead."
"I think it did, you looked dead to the world. Hold on a minute, Prof-, David."
Shut put the call on hold.
"A man needs his sleep. I only got home four hours ago."
"Then go back to sleep."
"Who is that, anyway?"
"Professor Wilder."
"The one you had an affair with?"
She turned the corner of her lip into an irritated smirk.
"It wasn't an affair. We just kissed. A couple of times."
"Right."
Pacey was clearly lost in thought.
"You're thinking about Ms. Jacobs, aren't you?"
"Tamara…"
"Go back to sleep, Pace."
She gently kissed him, and he begrudgingly obliged. She waited until the door closed before she took the call off hold and made sure to soften her voice this time.
"Sorry about that."
Not at all. How have you been?
"Oh, you know me, always busy, dealing with more than I can handle."
I find that hard to believe.
"I see you haven't lost your sarcastic edge."
No, I meant that I have no doubt in your ability to handle everything you ever care to put in front of yoursef.
"I guess I never did learn to read between the lines with you."
I've missed you, Joey Potter. So, Dawson Leery, that's the boy from your story, isn't it? You never did tell me what the kiss meant.
"Well, it didn't mean what I thought it meant. Or, at least not in the way I thought it did."
I'm intrigued.
"Our paths were too different. I'm marrying the other boy, the one who was the reason I hadn't thought about kissing Dawson until that night. It's just, Dawson and I share this bond, this celestial bond, and that's why we kissed. It was a promise that that bond would always be there, no matter where we lived, no matter whom we dated, that we would always remember how we touched the sun, just for a moment and our wings didn't melt."
One of those moments where you shuck your status as a mere mortal and achieve, however briefly, true greatness.
He wasn't reading. He knew the line by heart.
"You remember!"
He's the Peter to your Wendy.
"Exactly. Ohhh, you don't know how happy I am to hear from you. I have my assistant get an early copy of everything you write. I clear my calendar so I can finish it as quickly as possible."
And none of it would have been possible without you, first for reminding me to live, then for saving my life when I was about to live too much.
"That sounds familiar."
It better. It was the dedication for The Girl from the Creek.
"I thought that was about me!"
Listen, I have a favor I need to ask you.
"What kind of favor?"
The kind that a mere mortal would kill to be asked to do.
"Now, I'm intrigued."
I want you to edit my next book.
"Me? But surely you have a regular editor who handles all your work, and who certainly seems to be doing a very good job at it."
There's more.
"How can there be more? This is what every editor in the city dreams of."
I'm almost finished with the manuscript on this one, and it's too close to the publishing deadline to make any substantive changes. The next one, though, I want you to help me write it.
An Oscar nomination was one thing, but film wasn't her future, and this would be a guaranteed bestseller. It would open all sorts of doors that an Oscar nomination couldn't. This was the man who told her she was a writer, who believed in her talent, who knew the writer she would one day become, and now, here he was again, giving her the opportunity to make it happen. For once, she didn't doubt herself.
"When do we start?"
I'll have the completed manuscript to you right after the Oscars. Good luck, and take care, Joey Potter.
"Thank you, Professor Wilder."
David.
"Okay. Goodbye, David."
Goodbye, Joey.
Her head was in the clouds as she walked into her office. Was this really happening? The girl from the creek, everything she was too afraid to dream of was all rushing down at once. How many good things could happen to one person? She had an ominous feeling that some monumental counterforce would have to be coming. She didn't want to think about that now, though. Everyone she wanted to share this news with was asleep somewhere in Los Angeles. Heather came in with Joey's morning coffee and snapped her out of her reverie.
"I got a call from a Greg Hetson, he said he was your advisor at Worthington. He asked if you could call him back, it seemed important. And Mr. Donovan said he has to leave for London this afternoon. He won't be back until Monday and wanted to know if 10 AM would be good for your meeting with him."
"Yeah, that's fine."
She took a sip of coffee.
"Anything else I can do for you?"
"No, that'll be all. Thanks, Heather. Wait. Did the new manuscript arrive yet? It was supposed to come yesterday."
"You better talk to Mr. Donovan about that."
That was odd. He usually wouldn't involve himself in a late manuscript.
"Oh, actually, can you give me Professor Hetson's number. He's not the type for frivolity."
Pettiness, yes, but not frivolity. None of this was adding up. Heather left her the number and walked out. She took another sip of coffee and dialed.
Hello.
"Professor Hetson? This is Joey Potter."
Yeah, I know, congratulations and all that. Look, I'm glad you called me back. I had a very bizarre conversation with your boss on Tuesday. And then David called me, and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.
Bizarre conversation? Granted, most conversations involving Professor Hetson were bizarre, but why was he being so concerned about her? Something was definitely off.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
What, you get nominated for an Oscar, and now you're too good for me? I can't show an interest in my star protégé?
"Wait, what did you and Mr. Donovan talk about?"
Okay, fine, I'll just get straight to it. He wanted to know what you were like at Worthington, if he could read any of your work. I might have pushed the boundaries of student confidentiality a little bit.
"You didn't tell him about me oversleeping for the Final did you? OR MY EMAIL TO DAWSON?"
No, none of that came up. I said you were a consummate overachiever.
She wasn't sure that was a good thing.
"What else?"
I sent him a few things you had published in the Worthington Literary Review, I figured that wouldn't be considered confidential. But he didn't seem interested in any of that. He was more interested in your academic integrity.
This was getting truly bizarre.
"What did you say?"
I told him that I trust you with my life and, more importantly, that I trusted you with my daughter's life. She just worships you, you know? You're like the big sister she always wanted.
"She's a great kid."
Kid? She graduated college last year. I know I once told you that I never wanted her to become anything like you, but I take it back. That's exactly what I want for her.
"That means a lot to me, especially coming from you, Professor Hetson."
Anyway, I'm sure it's nothing, but just wanted to let you know. I'll let you get going, I'm sure you're busy. Bye.
She didn't even have a chance to say goodbye before he hung up. She was entirely unsettled.
10:00 AM
Joey walked into Mr. Donovan's office exactly at 10:00 AM, not a minute early or a minute late. She did her best to hide her nerves.
"Joey, Joey, so good to see you. Please sit down. Do you need anything?"
"No, I'm okay."
She sat hesitantly. He was holding a copy of Peter and Wendy, tags sticking out of various pages. In front of him were copies of the Worthington Literary Review opened face down.
"Look, there's something really important we need to talk about."
"I'm getting that sense."
"I sent for a copy of Peter and Wendy. This is really great stuff."
She turned the corner of her lip up into her trademark smirk.
"Oh, that was all Dawson. I just helped him edit it."
"Well, I don't think the Writer's Guild would let a simple editor share screen credit. They have strict rules about that."
"What are you getting it?"
"You're far too modest. Here, read this out loud."
He handed her the script, opened to a highlighted page.
"Uh, okay. Peter: 'Do you believe in magic, Wendy?' Wendy: 'I believe in you, Peter.' They kiss, a kiss that is neither chaste nor romantic, the kind of kiss where you shuck your status as a mere mortal and achieve, however briefly, true greatness. Peter: 'I love you, Wendy.' Wendy: 'I love you, too, Peter.' Peter: 'Then why are you leaving?' Wendy: 'Because we can't stay in Neverland forever. We have to grow up, Peter. There's a real world out there, a scary world, but we have to face it. I want to face it together, but I will face it, with or without you.' Wendy climbs out the window, taking one last look back at Peter, hoping he'll follow her. He doesn't."
"Now read this."
He handed her a copy of the 2002 Worthington Literary Review. It was open to her story The Kiss. She froze in terror.
"I know what it says."
"Are you still sure the script was all Dawson?"
"What are you trying to say? That I plagiarized my own work? You can't plagiarize your own work!"
"Joey, calm down."
"Just get it over with, then."
"Joey. You misunderstand. I read that entire script and all of your stories. This script, it's as much you as Dawson."
Her face flashed into a smile that lasted for an instant.
"Oh, well, I suppose he and are I just so intertwined, it's sometimes hard for us to know when one ends and the other begins."
"That's what I'm getting at. I had a long talk with your advisor from Worthington. He called you a once-in-a-generation talent but that you're too modest. He said you fought with him every step of the way at Worthington, and you'd never believe it if he said it. Maybe you'll believe it coming from me."
"Believe what?"
"Joey, I'm trying to tell you, your talents are being misapplied here."
"So, you're firing me?"
"Joey, Joey, Joey."
"What do we do here?"
"Publish books."
"And what do you do here?"
"Edit books."
"Wouldn't you rather write books?"
"What about the manuscripts that I've been working on. I was supposed to start another one this week."
"I've reassigned them all to other editors."
"What?!"
"Do you have any idea the commitment of time and mental energy required to be part of an Oscar campaign? Take the rest of the month off. You have more than enough PTO accumulated."
"And then what?"
"And then I want you to write something, whatever you want, I'm sure you have plenty of ideas mulling around that brilliant mind of yours. It'll be a surefire bestseller with the Oscar buzz. Take some time to think about it. If you'd rather go back to editing, I'll have a pile of manuscripts waiting on your desk the day after the Oscars."