Cut to the front of the high school. Joey’s truck pulls up, as Harley and Patrick climb out.
HARLEY: It’s not too late to turn back, you know?
Joey rolls her eyes.
JOEY: Will you just go!
Harley pouts.
HARLEY: I hate being all dolled up like this.
PATRICK: Look on the bright side. At least you’re not stuck in this penguin suit.
JOEY: I think it’s very distinguished.
Patrick’s face lights up.
PATRICK: Really?
Harley gives Joey a warning look.
JOEY: Um…that’s what Harley told me she thought of it.
HARLEY: Yeah, you look like James Bond.
Upon hearing that, he smiles proudly.
PATRICK: (with accent) A martini…shaken, not stirred.
Joey smirks.
JOEY: Not until you’re eighteen, buddy! Come on…let’s get this show on the road.
With that, the three of them head inside.
*****
Inside the school gymnasium…
JOEY: Um…not what I expected.
Joey notices a strobe light flashing, and loud music playing. The teenagers are dancing wildly.
PATRICK: What do you mean?
JOEY: I thought it would be, like…people taking pictures of couples and piano music…that sort of thing.
Harley scoffs.
HARLEY: Please. That’s so lame.
Joey shrugs.
HARLEY: That’s what you get growing up in the boonies, I guess.
Joey gives her a look.
Smirking, Harley grabs Patrick by the arm.
HARLEY: Come on…let’s dance.
He gives her a mock salute.
PATRICK: Yes, ma’am!
The kids head towards the dance floor, while Joey hangs back.
*****
Meanwhile, at a local office, Dawson and Oliver enter in the front door.
Oliver is dressed in a navy blue suit, with matching tie. Dawson, on the other hand, is wearing a red shirt and blue jeans.
DAWSON: Don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed?
OLIVER: If anything, you’re underdressed!
DAWSON: This isn’t Entre-Nous, Oliver! All we’re doing is submitting a film to the review board.
OLIVER: We want to look like professionals, right?
There’s a pause.
DAWSON: We’re not professionals! We’re novices.
OLIVER: You worked with Todd Carr, Leery! You have pull! If we walk in there without any angle, we’re going to look like idiots. So come on…radiate confidence for me!
He sighs.
DAWSON: I’ll try.
The two of them walk inside the office. Three men in their mid-40’s are there waiting for them.
Dawson walks up to the central one and shakes his hand.
DAWSON: Dawson Leery. We spoke on the phone…
The older man smiles.
TURNER: Grant Turner. You’re the producer, correct? And this is?
OLIVER: Oliver Chirchick, pleased to meet you.
DAWSON: He’s the director of the film.
TURNER: Go ahead…take a seat.
They comply.
TURNER: This studio you represent? ‘Creek Side Pictures’? I’ve never actually heard of it before.
DAWSON: We’re new. This will actually be our first movie.
Turner raises his eyebrows.
TURNER: Your first movie?
DAWSON: Well, not my first movie. I’ve been involved in quite a few armature films the past few years.
TURNER: I wouldn’t call ‘Wicked Dead’ armature.
Dawson’s eyes go wide.
DAWSON: You heard about that?
He nods.
TURNER: Mm-hmm. Though the end result wasn’t exactly festival material, I’ve heard you pulled some pretty fancy tricks on the sound stage. So tell me…why does someone who’s been in the middle of it all make an independent film instead of going to a professional studio?
OLIVER: Cause they suck!
Turner stares at Oliver, as does Dawson.
Becoming slightly red, Dawson turns back to Turner.
DAWSON: What my friend here means is that we’re not comfortable with some of the creative changes the studio I was previously involved with wanted to implement.
TURNER: I’m not following.
OLIVER: Freedom of expression.
Oliver stands up.
OLIVER: Here’s the thing. Too often the ‘suits’ in this business tend to interfere in the creative process. The writers write the script, but then they step in and tell them to change it the way they wanted.
DAWSON: The last studio I tried to sell an idea to attempted to alter the film into something completely unrecognizable. The kind of movie I wouldn’t be caught dead even watching, much less working on.
Turner sighs.
TURNER: I know all too well what you mean. But they can’t all be like that, can they?
DAWSON: No. But what we’re trying to do is present an alternative. A way for directors to tell their vision without interference. Without having to deal with the LA scene.
TURNER: A noble cause. It’s a good idea. Let’s see if I can’t help you along.
Dawson hands him a tape.
TURNER: Is this the film?
OLIVER: Most of it. We just have to film three more scenes, and…
TURNER: Wait!
They freeze.
DAWSON: What is it?
Turner sighs.
TURNER: The due date for submission is tomorrow.
Dawson’s face falls.
OLIVER: Well, we’ll be done tomorrow. We just have to start filming earlier, and…
DAWSON: (quietly) And edit it? And add the soundtrack? And transfer it onto film? All by tomorrow? It’s physically impossible.
Oliver’s face falls as well.
TURNER: Sorry, guys.
Oliver slumps back in his chair, defeated.
*****
Cut to back at the house. The kitchen table is set, with folded napkins, candles lit, and the radio playing soft music.
Suddenly, Pacey appears at the table. He pulls the chair out, letting Andie sit down.
PACEY: Your chair, madam.
Andie smirks.
ANDIE: Why, thank you.
Pacey takes his own seat.
ANDIE: You’re not mad, are you?
Pacey raises his eyebrows.
PACEY: At Dawson? Please. I gave up getting mad at him a long time ago. It ain’t worth the effort, Andie. Not his fault he’s oblivious.
ANDIE: Mmm…this isn’t so bad, really. Staying in, I mean. I don’t have to dress up or freeze my butt off outside.
Pacey points a finger at her.
PACEY: Now, that would be a shame. It’s too cute a butt to get frozen.
Andie giggles.
ANDIE: I still remember that time you tried to check out your own butt.
PACEY: Hey, can’t be too careful. I eat a lot, remember?
ANDIE: Yet you never gain any weight?
PACEY: I have a fast metabolism.
A familiar Italian song comes on the radio.
ANDIE: It’s the ‘Lady & the Tramp’ song. Oh…I think I’m going to cry.
Pacey chuckles.
PACEY: What is with you and Disney movies?
She smirks.
ANDIE: Well, you did make spaghetti.
PACEY: You calling me a ‘tramp’, McPhee?
ANDIE: Maybe…
She kisses him.
ANDIE: (whispering) But I don’t think you made noodles that long.
They kiss again.
*****
Cut back to the dance. Joey is standing near the punch bowl, watching Harley and Patrick dance.
TEACHER: Hello?
Joey turns to see a woman standing next to her. It takes her a moment to recognize her.
JOEY: Sorry…didn’t know I was in the way.
The woman finds her familiar.
TEACHER: Joey? Joey Potter?
Joey raises an eyebrow.
JOEY: Oh my god…Laura? Wow, it’s been…years. What are you doing here?
LAURA: I work here. The art teacher.
Joey points at Harley.
JOEY: My English professor wanted me to keep an eye on her.
LAURA: You’re going to college then? Which one?
JOEY: Worthington.
Laura raises her eyebrows.
LAURA: Wow. Congratulations.
Joey blushes.
JOEY: Thanks.
Laura looks at Harley.
LAURA: She’s unique, that one. Gifted. She doesn’t seem to realize it, though. I’ve only ever meet one other person like her.
JOEY: Who?
LAURA: You.
Joey half-smiles.
JOEY: Yeah, me too. I mean, she reminded me a lot of myself.
Then she notices Patrick dancing with someone…someone who isn’t Harley. The girl appears to be a senior.
JOEY: Can you excuse me for a moment?
Joey heads over to the dance floor, just as the song finishes.
JOEY: Hey, can I talk to you for a second?
Joey grabs Patrick on the arm, and drags him away.
PATRICK: Hey! Let go!
Harley sighs. Another guy sees her, and walks up to her.
GUY: Hey? Care to dance?
She smiles at him.
*****
Cut to Worthington. Chris is sitting in his dorm room when the phone rings. Quickly, he picks it up.
CHRIS: Hello?
AUDREY: (on phone) Hey?
A smirk appears on Chris’ face. He leans back on his bed.
CHRIS: Knew you’d call.
She scoffs.
AUDREY: In your dreams, Chris. I just wanted to know if you wanted to, like, hang out or something?
CHRIS: Something?
AUDREY: This place is dullsville right now. Joey’s reliving her childhood, Dawson and Oliver are at some work thing, and Andie’s stuck inside tonight. I’m three seconds from going nuts. So can we just please forgo the whole awkwardness and go see a movie or something?
He sighs.
CHRIS: Purely platonic?
AUDREY: That’s right.
CHRIS: You’re sure?
He hears her groan on the other line.
AUDREY: Whatever, Chris!
He chuckles.
CHRIS: See you in five minutes.
*****
Cut back to the dance. Joey pulls Patrick into a corner, far away from the dance floor.
JOEY: Can you explain to me what you’re doing?
PATRICK: Dancing.
JOEY: That part’s obvious. What isn’t obvious is why it wasn’t with Harley.
He sighs.
PATRICK: Well, that other girl asked…
JOEY: And you just said ‘yes’?
He shrugs.
PATRICK: Well…yeah.
Joey shakes her head.
PATRICK: What?
JOEY: Did it ever occur to you that Harley might not want to see you dance with another girl? That maybe she’d feel hurt?
His face falls.
PATRICK: Not exactly.
JOEY: Well, from what I could see, she was.
Patrick groans.
PATRICK: I’m gonna get yelled at again, aren’t I?
Joey smiles.
JOEY: Not if you go right back out there and apologize.
They turn around, only to see Harley dancing with someone else. Patrick’s mouth hangs open in shock.
An amused smirk appears on Joey’s face.
JOEY: Now isn’t this poetic?
Patrick, on the other hand, isn’t amused at all. He looks at the guy angrily and storms towards them. Joey tries to stop him, but he’s not in the mood to listen.
JOEY: Wait…
Too late. He reaches them.
PATRICK: Excuse me?
Harley and the guy break apart.
HARLEY: Patrick?
GUY: Hey, get lost! We’re busy!
Patrick makes a fist.
PATRICK: The lady’s with me!
HARLEY: Woah, slow down, ok? Patrick, let’s just go…
GUY: Not anymore she isn’t…
Harley’s eyes go wide.
HARLEY: Ok, back off!
Neither guy seems to be listening. Desperately, Harley turns to Joey.
HARLEY: Get them to stop.
JOEY: I tried to…
Suddenly, Joey freezes. The scene in front of her seems familiar. Very familiar.
PATRICK: You were dancing with my girlfriend, pal!
The guy smiles.
GUY: Yeah, so I was…
All at once, the scene shifts. A similar scene replaces it, in a similar setting, but with the players completely different. Where Harley once stood, Joey sees herself. Only much younger.
And in place of the guys...
JACK: …cause truth is, I’d do it again! So let's just not make this into a high school romp alright? 'Cause neither of us are the type…
With that, Dawson punches him out in the middle of the dance floor. Jack tumbles to the ground.
ANDIE: Oh my god!
Then, reality snaps back to normal. Joey almost falls over from shock, as she sees the guy on the ground, nose bleeding. Harley runs between them.
HARLEY: What is the matter with you?!?
He doesn’t have an answer for her. Instead, he storms out of the gym.
Harley quickly follows him. Joey follows her out in return.
*****
Cut to outside. Joey follows the young couple at a distance, making sure she doesn’t interfere. She can’t help but feel how familiar this is.
HARLEY: Ok, one minute you hardly know I’m there, the next you’re ‘defending my honour’ or some stupid thing like that? Are you schizo or something?
PATRICK: I didn’t like seeing you with him is all.
She grabs his arm and spins him around.
HARLEY: Oh, but it was perfectly all right for you to dance with Miss Highlights?
PATRICK: No, it wasn’t!
HARLEY: Then what the heck is going on?
He freezes, then looks at her.
HARLEY: What?
PATRICK: I can’t do this anymore.
Joey shakes her head. She recognizes that tone. She’s used it herself often enough.
JOEY: (whispers) No…
HARLEY: Can’t do what?
PATRICK: Can’t be with you like this.
A look of panic appears in Harley’s eyes.
HARLEY: No…wait, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you!
PATRICK: It doesn’t matter…
HARLEY: Yes, it matters. You matter to me.
He looks at her seriously.
PATRICK: I’m sorry.
He turns and walks away. Harley just stands there, still in shock.
While, a few feet away, Joey’s eyes finally begin to open.