I've got nothing left, folks. Nothing. I just don't care anymore. Joey's a bitch? Fine, don't care. Dawson's a smug, self-absorbed suck? Whatever, don't care. The writing is the primetime-drama equivalent of stereo assembly instructions translated poorly from the Japanese? Carry on, don't care. Don't care, can't care, haven't cared for a while, don't anticipate caring again for a good long time, and should never have cared in the first damn place, so if you'll excuse me, I have to go marinate in the sweet sweet love of the Samuel Adams brewery, so here's the recap: the gang graduated, and Pacey bolted to Florida. Okay? Can I go now?
"No"? "NO"? Look, I've suffered enough for you people! I've driven to Pennsylvania in the middle of the night! I've posted bail for literary conventions! I've sat at this desk with a bottle of tequila hooked up to an IV and a noose around my neck, and it's not like I get paid to -- oh. Right. Oh, dear. Okay, then. My mistake. Sorry.
Previously on They've Finally Broken Sars's Spirit And Left Her A Bitter, Gasping Husk Of Her Radiant Former Self: Gretchen ditched Dawson, but not before signing his yearbook using one-hundred-percent pure Vermont maple syrup as ink; Pacey told Joey that she deserves better than Capeside, and that he is Capeside; Jen harangued Grams into moving to Boston; Mr. K offered Pacey a job as a deckhand on his yacht.
Front lawn of Capeside High. Principal Derek Smalls, sporting a mullet that looks like he used a fan to style it, blathers on expositionally by welcoming the seniors to the graduation rehearsal, blah blah blah. Seniors mill about, not listening. Quick shot of the assembled gang. Principal Smalls tunes up the bass for an expositional rendering of "Ramble On," but not before letting us know that Joey won the Capeside Pinnacle Award and will therefore deliver the salutatorian speech at graduation. How convenient. Shot of Joey "Friends, Romans, Countrymen -- Lend Me Your Spine" Potter doing the blushing thing. Apparently, she has to give her speech, or a version thereof, at the rehearsal, and Principal Smalls calls on her to do so; pulling a "whatever" face, she heads for the podium, to sarcastic applause. "Go West, Young" Dawson Leery yucks it up. Pan across Jen "The Night The Lights Went Out On" Lindley, biting her lip wistfully, and Jack McPhee "-berace," grinning. Joey approaches the mic with trepidation, admits that her speech "isn't quite ready yet," adds that she doesn't have anything to say right now, and thanks the audience. The gang claps sardonically some more. Joey tromps back down, fists stuffed in pockets, and sourly tells them not to say a word. Dawson puts his hand over his heart and blinks rapidly, "overcome." Joey glares at him. Heh. Principal Smalls warns the assembled not to think about pulling any graduation-related pranks, and the gang turns to look expectantly at Drue "The Lizard King" Valentine, who smiles and ducks his head all "don't look at me." Principal Smalls makes a joke about security "tighter than Ricky Martin's pants." The joke bombs, and then in turn the joke about the joke bombing also bombs, and I think my joke about the joke about the joke bombing bombing just bombed also. See? When I said I had nothing, I meant it.
Off to the side of the stage, enter Pacey "Edna Pontellier" Witter at a jog; in the crowd, Mitch "The Flash" Leery knifes through the crowd to get to Pacey, and Principal Smalls continues to provide graduation-themed white noise in the form of bibbling on about "housekeeping details." The Flash intercepts Pacey, who apologizes for his tardiness with an excuse about his American history teacher yammering on past the final bell and starts to head for his seat, but The Flash stops him again; meanwhile, the rest of the gang has turned to stare openly at the two of them. Nice manners, y'all. The Flash says it isn't about the lateness, unfortunately: "It's about your grades." Pacey deems that "vaguely ominous." The Flash cringes that Pacey's "right on the bubble of being able to graduate." Well, it's a good thing the writers gave us a bit of lead-up to that after introducing the storyline eight months ago, because now we have a smidgen of emotion invested in the outcome of -- oh, right. They didn't. And we don't. Because they threatened to flunk him, and that's the last we heard of it until now. Pacey immediately gets bent out of shape, bitching that he sacrificed his "entire senior year" (he did? I don't remember that), pulled "double class loads," did everything the school required, blah blah bleh. The Flash tries to buck the little camper up, telling Pacey that "it's not over yet" -- if he does well enough on his English final, he'll graduate. Uh huh. Because the writers have set the plot up well enough to earn a cheap Bruckheimer-movie payoff like that. Not. Pacey looks over his shoulder to see Joey peering at him like he's got the world's largest piece of spinach stuck in his front teeth, then looks back at The Flash, who says pointedly that Pacey should spend the time before the final studying, not hanging out at the rehearsal. Pacey asks if The Flash is kicking him out. The Flash twangs a neck muscle by way of response. Pacey asks The Flash not to "do this to" him. The Flash is sorry; it's not his decision. Pacey glares over his shoulder again -- whether at Principal Smalls or at the gang isn't clear -- and waddles off in a really weird gait like he's got a full load in his pants or something, and the gang just keeps right on staring at him as a cat gets jammed into a gift envelope.
Back from commercials, we fade up Pacey clomping home in a funk and finding the sidewalk blocked by Doug "Thin Blue Fine" Witter's patrol car. Pacey grumps at him. Doug says he drove right past Pacey a minute before, and Pacey blew him off. Pacey poor-mes about avoiding eye contact with authority figures "at all costs." I almost brought up the fishing trip here, and the fact that said fishing trip and the circumstances surrounding it gave viewers the impression that the brothers Witter had a little closeness going, but then I remembered that I don't care about such flagrant disregard for continuity and character development anymore. Anyway, Pacey gets in one of his patented non-hilarious Doug-is-gay cracks and walks past his brother, and Doug snarks, "Please God, may that never get old." Um, too late. Doug asks Pacey how he's doing. Pacey turns around and grunts that he's "never been better," and Doug ignores the tone to ask, "How's school?" Pacey repeats what The Flash told him, and us, before. Doug, sounding sincere, says he's really sorry to hear that, and Pacey self-pities that Doug can go home and tell their parents that Pacey is "living down to expectations" as usual, so they can cancel the huge graduation party he's sure they planned for him. Hey, why don't you whine about it, Pacey, because that'll help (tm my mother). Pacey starts to walk away, but Doug jogs after him, asking him when he'll know "for sure" whether or not he's graduating. Pacey has one more final to take, and it's "Mr. Kasdan's lit course," which isn't exactly his "best subject." Doug offers to help him study; Pacey is momentarily touched, but quickly reverts to woe-is-me mode and tells Doug to do something useful with his time instead, like "solve a murder." Doug says he's serious, and Pacey snipes that "everybody's serious," but he doesn't understand why the school won't just graduate him, because the sooner he gets out of there, "the better off everyone involved will be," and he huffs off. Doug looks after him, worried.
Capeside High hallway. Joey has a block and can't deal with writing the speech. Dawson theorizes that "that block has a name -- Pacey." Joey starts to deny it, but then confesses that Pacey "has been known to occupy [her] thoughts on occasion." "Occupy"? Shut up, Joey. Dawson calls what went down at the rehearsal with Pacey and The Flash "painful," and Joey says she would have gone up and said something to Pacey, but she knew he'd just "resent [her] for it." Dawson went up to Pacey in study hall the other day, apparently, and Pacey "made it very clear" that he didn't want any help from Dawson either -- and, actually, that's an instinct I can understand. Joey splutters that she just wants to stay friends with Pacey: "Is that asking too much?" Dawson, hesitantly: "Well…" Joey rolls her eyes and nods, "It is asking too much." Dawson shrugs all "well, duh." Joey asks what she should do: "I mean, he needs help!" Dawson banals something about both of them in the relationship and still having feelings and feh, but it couldn't hurt for Joey to let Pacey know she cares, and it might help her to write her speech. Joey smiles at him all shy and "thanks for understanding," and he smiles back all "buck up little camper," and I don't care.
Outside the House Of Tobey, "Pretty Please With A" Tobey "On Top" is crouched by the back wheel of the McPhee Saab. Hey, continuity! Except that Andie drove a grey Saab and this one's black, but maybe they traded it in or -- right, not caring, let's move on. Jack asks Tobey what's wrong, since he's lost in thought "in a galaxy far far away." Heh. As the boys wash the car, Tobey asks if they can talk about something, and there's a bit of self-deprecating banter before Tobey gets to the point -- he wants to talk about them, meaning him and Jack, and "what [they] are to each other." Jack says he's "always been honest with" Tobey about where they "stand." Yeah -- as far apart as blocking will allow, according to the hétérosexuel majeure clause in Kerr Smith's contract. Tobey confirms that they're "dating," and Jack flaps his arms in the affirmative, so Tobey asks him to finish the sentence: "That would make me your…?" Jack furrows his brow. "Boyfriend," Tobey finishes, and says that Jack "can't say it yet," and in fact goes out of his way not to say it. Insert "yeah, but it's rude to talk with your mouth full" joke here; I would make it myself, but I don’t care. Anyway, Jack doesn't think it's true that he avoids saying it and wah, and Tobey wants to know how Jack thinks it makes him feel when Jack can't say it and wah, and Jack's like "fine, fine, I'll say it, when it's appropriate" and wah, but Tobey isn't satisfied, asking for Jack's definition of "appropriate" -- when nobody's around? Around just a few people? Wah wah wah? Jack's not having it and grunts, "Let me surprise you, all right?" Tobey rolls his eyes; Jack quickly changes the subject to whether Tobey gets off work early the day. Tobey, tersely: "Yeah." Jack, annoyed: "What?" Tobey, insecurely: "What if she doesn't like me?" "She"? Nice attempt at "suspense," "writers," but we've all seen the promos and we know it's Andie, so just say "Andie." Jeez. Anyway, Jack's all "oh please," and Tobey's all "it could happen," and Jack threatens Tobey with the hose, and Tobey brandishes a wet rag at Jack, and then there's about eight seconds of splash-fighting and mock-wrestling before we quickly fade into the scene, because Kerr Smith doesn't think the kids need to see two wet guys tussling on TV every week. The adults who craved wet David Monahan stripped to the waist would beg to differ, of course, but that's another matter entirely.
Nighttime at the Ryan Home. Drue taps on a sleeping Jen's window. She straggles out of bed and asks what he's doing there. He wants to come in. She doesn't think that's such a great idea. Banter involving serenades and Drue freezing his ass off before Jen finally relents and lets him tumble in through the window. As she wraps him a quilt, Drue expositions that he and Non-Liz Non-Claiborne got into an argument about Drue's dad, who isn't coming to graduation, and NLNC blamed Drue for Mr. NC not showing up, and Drue in turn blamed NLNC, and Jen makes sympathetic noises before concluding that now Poor Little Match Drue wants "a place to crash." Drue says he'd "be ever so grateful." Jen murmurs that she knew the day would come when Drue would "need a little human compassion," and she gives in, and when she tells him he gets "one night," he grins all "yay!" and slumps down on the bed, and it's really cute. "On the floor!" Jen smirks. "On the floor, yes," he sighs. Heh.
Capeside High. Mr. Kasdan is handing out the English final and telling the students to put everything on the floor; behind him, Pacey comes in just after the bell and hustles to a seat. Kasdan goes on about material covered in tests and forty-five minutes to complete the exam and blah, and Pacey scrambles to start writing but breaks his pencil lead. Ever heard of a pen, Pacey? I don't think I used a pencil for anything but math class after the fifth grade. Anyway, as Contrivance drives an elbow into my ribs, Pacey asks if he might trouble Kasdan for "a working pencil," and Kasdan snarks in a good-natured tone at Pacey, calling him "as unprepared as the day [he] started this class" and blah blah "in this ever-changing world, [he] can still count on [Pacey's] remarkable consistency." Shut up, Kasdan. Kasdan hands Pacey a fresh pencil and walks away, and Pacey mutters acerbically that he "sure deserved that one" and refers to himself as "stupid old me." Oh, here we go with the Pacey-the-English-teacher-slayer routine again. Kasdan tries to say that he's just kidding, but Pacey goes off on a sarcastic rant about how he's stupid and slowing everyone else down, and Kasdan assumes Pacey doesn't care when he shows up with a busted pencil, but he's busted his ass so he can graduate, so it's Kasdan who doesn't care, none of the teachers do, they bend over backwards for the honor students but they can't wait to get rid of a student like Pacey who could really use their help. Kasdan interrupts to thunder that he's "tolerated" Pacey's outburst because he knows Pacey needs to pass the test, but Pacey is "this close to throwing away an opportunity." Pacey sets his jaw, then tilts at the windmill by grabbing his bag, getting to his feet, and saying that he "must be an idiot," because he can't figure out why he tries so hard for Kasdan: "I mean, I don't know why I bother at all." The Guitar Of Broken Dreams plays. Kasdan slumps. Pacey quixotes on out of the classroom and slams the door. Whatever.
Witterschloss. Joey, hands jammed in her pockets again, approaches the front porch cautiously; Pacey is doing something with some rope. She asks if he has a minute, and when he says sure, she broaches the subject of his flame-out in Kasdan's class. Pacey face hardens; he doesn't want to talk about it. Joey at least wants to know what he's going to do, and Pacey snips that he knows what he's not going to do, "namely, graduate." Joey tries to argue that surely there's time for him to fix it, to appeal to The Flash or Principal Smalls: "There's gotta be something we could do." Pacey says nastily, "Oh, I'm sorry -- 'we'? I didn't realize we were involved in a team sport, here, Joey." Dude. You dumped her, for no good reason, so lose the attitude; she's just trying to help, although why she bothers trying to bail your depressed ass out anymore, I don't know, because you want to fail, so that you can hate everyone and blame your life on other people instead of on yourself, when the real reason your life sucks is because you put up with shit for too long and then you tweak out at totally inappropriate times. Not that, you know, I care or anything. Pacey starts to go inside, and Joey tells him in a tone of irritation that she knows it's over between them, but she still wants to be his friend and help him. Pacey sighs and shifts the weight of the world from one shoulder to the other before admitting that he still loves her, and probably will continue to love her "for a very long time." Joey stares at him all "where is this going" as he goes on to say that he can't do "just friends" right now, because "it's a bizarre form of torture" and he can't deal with it, and won't. He just wants to move on and get over her, and the only way for him to do that "is to not be around [her] anymore." Again, Pacey -- you dumped her, not the other way around, so stop acting all put-upon like she threw you over, because it's a bit late to throw your backbone around now. Joey, looking vaguely disgusted, asks if he foresees them becoming friends at any time in the future, but he cuts her off, saying he doesn't want to think about the future. Joey pinches her face up all "that's the way you want it, fine" and says she guesses she should go, and Pacey relents; he knows coming over there "couldn't have been easy for" her. Joey gives him an appraising look, seeming to realize at last that he's lost to her, and smiles tightly: "Nothing seems easy anymore." She shrugs sadly and heads for the truck.
I know it's wrong of me, but when Rob Schneider walks up to the goat all "hey, baby" with the Marvin Gaye playing, I snicker. Shoot me. In other news, Orlando Jones is my boyfriend.
PB&B. Joey sits glumly at the kitchen table, working on her speech. There's a shot of her notebook filled with cross-outs. "Come On" Bessie Potter comes in to check on Joey's progress. Joey confesses that she's not making any, and adds, fighting tears, that she just went over to Pacey's to try to talk to him, "and…it didn't go well." Bessie thinks that "that explains a lot," like, okay -- move the scene forward, please. More exposition in the Pacey-refusing-help-especially-from-Joey vein, like, yes, we get it, now PLEASE give the SCENE a REASON to EXIST because we KNOW all of this ALREADY and we didn't care the FIRST EIGHT TIMES we heard it. Finally, Bessie hears my fevered wails of torment and gives the plot a boot to the ass, saying that she actually came in to give Joey a letter that their mother wrote a few days before she died; she asked Bessie to give it to Joey when Joey graduated from high school. Wait, Joey's mother died? You'd think they'd have mentioned that before now. Oh, wait. They have. Six thousand times. "Maybe this'll inspire you," Bessie says. Joey just stares at the envelope. Bessie, perplexed, asks if Joey's going to open it or what. Joey stammers that of course she will, but she doesn't "feel up to it right now." Bessie tells her to take all the time she needs, and leaves the kitchen. Joey stares sadly at the letter. Because she's sad that her mom died. And she's Poor. Little. Joey. Potter.
Airport. Jack and Tobey hustle to the gate. Tobey wonders what's the rush. Unfunny exposition by Jack about Andie's anal-retentive air-travel tendencies. Inside, Jack spots Andie "Valley Of The Dolls" McPhee, and she jiggles up and gives him a big hug; Meredith Monroe looks way better and has a cute hairstyle now, but she needs a bit more support in the brassiere department, methinks. Jack asks about the flight, and Andie babbles about turbulence before hoping aloud that she gets to go to "at least one kick-ass graduation party," and Tobey just stands there awkwardly. Finally, Jack catches his snap and introduces Tobey, and Andie asks how they know each other, and Tobey looks apprehensively at Jack, and after a non-suspenseful pause, Jack stammers, "Uh, well, uh, Tobey's, um -- Tobey's my boyfriend." Tobey grins. Aw. Andie's all "no way!" and gives Tobey a hug too, and then she bitches at Jack for not emailing her about Tobey, and Jack dissembles that "it's just kind of recent."
Ryan Home. Jen comes home to find Drue and Grams "Pele" Ryan chatting all friendly-like at the kitchen table. Horrified, she asks to speak to Grams for a second; they step out onto the porch, and Jen whispers that she only told Drue he could stay for one night: "Why is he still here?" Grams says that, after Jen left for school, she and Drue "had a nice chat about everything," and she fulminates about the "awful situation -- a father abandoning his family." Jen thinks Grams is taken in by Drue -- and it's weird that Grams would even tolerate Drue in her house after The E-Tarts Incident, but whatever. Long story short, Grams told Drue he could stay another night, "for a price." See, she's spotted Drue "for the duplicitous smooth-talking butt-kisser he is," but they could use his help packing for the move to Boston. "I'm so glad you're on my team," Jen giggles. They go back inside. Grams wiggles her eyebrows in Drue's direction and heads upstairs, and Jen goes into the kitchen to find Drue making himself at home with the contents of the fridge. He allows that "a fellow could get used to these accommodations." "Fellow"? Shut up, Drue. Jen informs him that he's "creeping [her] out." Drue asks if Jen plans to attend "that senior soiree thing" later that evening. Jen says that anybody who's anybody is going to be there, and asks if he wants a ride; he does, but he wants to take "a little recreational detour" on the way. "Ohhh no," Jen sighs. Drue smiles winningly and pops what looks like a gherkin into his mouth. Snorf. Dammit. That overgrown reptile is starting to grow on me. Or, you know, he would be, if I cared. Which I don't.
Sanctum Dawsonorum. Dawson is whatevering around the room when Joey knocks and comes in, saying that she needs his help with something. Oh, dear. Dawson's fine with that, and asks of the envelope she's holding, "Is that your speech?" Joey gives him the backstory about the letter from her mom. "Wow," Dawson says unhelpfully, sitting heavily on his bed, and then asks if she's opened it yet. She's tried, but she can't do anything without a male audience to validate her. Okay, she didn't say that last part, but -- seriously. Why not read it by yourself? Or with Bessie, your sister, who shared the same mother and who saved the letter for you all that time? Oh, the hell with it. Joey sits down and sighs that she remembers what her mother "was like at the end," so quiet and in so much pain, and when she thinks about reading the letter, she just freezes up. But she still has "to know," so she wondered if maybe Dawson could read it for her, thus notarizing her existence with the stamp of his presence once again. Dawson, surprised, raises his hedgy brows and says, to his credit, "I'd be honored." Joey hands the letter over, and he opens it. Joey looks on apprehensively. It's pretty much what you'd expect: her mom congratulates her on graduating; she knows Joey "didn't have a lot growing up," and she "got shortchanged one mother," but that which does not kill us makes us stronger; she compliments Bessie's strength and knows that Bessie's taken good care of Joey; her illness robbed her of watching Joey grow up, so she's "left to imagine the woman [Joey's] become," and she lists off a bunch of compliments about how Joey's beautiful but doesn't know it, "quick-witted and strong-willed," "soulful eyes of an artist," "tough façade," blah blah blah fishcakes, and it's here that Joey begins to cry. Mrs. Potter goes on about how it probably sounds familiar because Joey has always had these qualities, "and it's the woman [she'll] always be," and that wherever Joey goes in life, she should "keep close" to her childhood friends, because "they will always love you in a way no one else can, and they will always be with you -- just as I love you and will always be with you." Amazing how a woman who's spent the last five years on her back in a box six feet underground can still muster up the strength to heave an anvil through a second-story window, eh what? Anyway, tears roll down Joey's cheeks. Dawson regards her curiously and hands the letter back, and she smiles a little like "no, I'm okay," and the camera pans back on the two of them as The Piano Of Dead Parents plays its poignant melody.
A couple of thoughts on that scene. First of all, good choice by the director to keep the Beek out of the frame as he read the letter and focus on Katie Holmes instead; she did a good job reacting to its contents, and although the letter is a manipulative device that, as usual, the writers haven't earned, the set-up of the shot saved it from genuine offensiveness. Second of all, the letter could have come off as truly touching if they'd just left out a few of the childhood-friends phrases. One mention would have done the trick, but as written it's a two-by-four to the skull.
Graduation clambake. Joey walks along a pier, all slumped over and wearing a pair of boots that totally don't go with her outfit. Dawson appears and asks how she's doing. She's better, thanks. She hasn't written the speech yet, has she? No, she hasn't. Blah blah "good to get out of the house" blah blah "no stranger to the fine art of procrastination" blah blah blah blah BLAH. Then they spot the McPhees and Tobey, and there's hugging and welcome-homing, and Andie raves about Italy to the tune of "the architecture, the men, the food, and did I mention the men?" and does a little finger-gun thing and an eyebrow wiggle. Snorf. I miss Andie. Her whole spazmatoid schtick would do a lot to balance out all the angst on this show.
Witterschloss. Kasdan appears at the back door and invites himself in. Pacey sulks that he doesn't think they have anything else to say to each other, so Kasdan gets to the point, asking if Pacey studied "for that final [he] so dramatically walked out on." He studied his ass off, "sir." Kasdan just as dramatically draws a copy of said final out of his leatherette briefcase: "Care to prove it?" Pacey makes a crack about whether Kasdan attended the same class he did that day, but Kasdan says earnestly that Pacey isn't an idiot, "or a punchline" -- he's the reason Kasdan teaches. The honor students don't need him, but Pacey…Pacey breaks in before it gets too maudlin to joke that he'll probably "be telling this story for years to come." Kasdan tells Pacey to make him sound good in the story, then. Pacey says he can do that. Kasdan waves a pencil at him and tells him he has forty-five minutes. Pacey smiles. Yeah, right.
Capeside High front lawn, under cover of darkness. Drue drags Jen along with him to rig the sprinklers so that they'll go off in the middle of the graduation ceremony, but Principal Smalls busts them. Drue and Jen look almost as annoyed as I feel.
Clambake. Andie and Dawson sit at a table, and Andie expresses her condolences about Dawson's break-up with Gretchen. Dawson claims he's okay with it, adding that it hurts, but he doesn't feel like he has a cloud hanging over him. Andie comments that "someone's changed," sounding surprised that he's not indulging in the customary endless replaying "of what went wrong" and "dark period of pain and regret," and Dawson jokes that "that was pretty much [his] weekend," but he got it out of his system and he has no regrets. Then he's on about Joey as his first love and Gretchen as his first mature relationship and he realizes he's "capable of loving someone." Yeah -- himself. Shut up, Dawson. Andie says wistfully that she wishes she "were a memory like that to someone," blah blah blah. "I'm pretty sure you are," Dawson condescends.
Outside, Pacey threads through the crowd at the clambake. He's about to go into the area with the tables when he spots Joey laughing it up with Tobey and Jack, and he stops and watches her for a moment before drooping away. As he pouts through the screen door, Andie follows him out and calls to him, and he's all happy to see her and picks her up and twirls her around. Aw. He asks how it's going, and she says, "Great, now," and beams at him.
Principal Small's abode. "Long time coming" blah. "Dirty laundry list" blah. Principal Smalls helpfully brings us up to speed on Drue and Jen's various offenses over the course of the past year; Drue wearily denies putting Smalls's boat in the pool. Bottom line: Smalls forces them to sit and listen while he tortures a cello. The captions read, "[Playing badly.]" Drue twitches in pain; Jen closes her eyes.
Andie and Pacey at the clambake. Jack emailed her about him and Joey, and she's sorry: "I know how much she means to you." Pacey assures Andie that he's "gonna be all right," and she says she knows, but she doesn't like to see him sad, so if there's anything she can do for him, he should let her know. Aw, cute. Pacey says there's one thing -- she can tell him "what it's like out there," living on her own and stuff. Andie giggles that it's scary at first -- she didn't know anyone, but soon she made friends, and the longer she spent in Italy, the more she realized that leaving Capeside "wasn't an end -- it was a beginning, so…" Pacey interrupts and grabs her arm; he has to tell her something. Andie furrows an expectant brow, and he tells her about the deckhand job offer, and that he'll have to hop a plane to Miami because the boat's headed for the Caribbean. Andie asks if it's something he wants to do; he says it's something he really wants to do. Since when? Right -- don't care. Sorry. Anyway, he's glad she's there, and he announces with not a little fanfare that he passed the English final: "I did it, I'm a high-school graduate!" Andie squeals and hugs him, saying that she knew he could do it, and then she asks why he hasn't told the others: "I mean, they're dying to know!" Pacey existentializes that he doesn't need to tell them; he did it for himself, and he doesn't want to compare himself to the rest of the gang anymore. He talks about sitting on the graduation dais and feeling the sun on his face and knowing that he can "overcome anything." Andie asks why he told her, then, and he says, "You were the first person in my life who ever told me I could be more than I was and believed it." Andie beams. "So I guess that's thank you," he adds. "You're welcome," she whispers, touched, and then they hug again and wander off, chit-chatting.
Later, Pacey comes inside to find Joey sitting on her own. An alterna-testicle (tm Demian) croons about changing your fears. Joey slowly gets up and stuffs her hands into her pockets again, and she's glad he made it, yeah, "this was a nice party," awkward pause, awkward pause. Pacey's done some thinking about tomorrow. Does it look "even remotely bright?" It didn't when he thought he'd never see Joey again. "How is that any different from the here and now?" Good point, Potter. Pacey, trying manfully not to cry, doesn't answer, and Joey hangs her head. After a moment, Pacey says he has to go and live his own life for a while, but that doesn't mean "this is how [he] wanted it to end between [them]," like, why does he keep saying that? He's the one who made the decision to end it in the first place! Joey seems to agree with me; she stares dully at him. Pacey asks if, hypothetically speaking, he found himself owning another sailboat "one day," would Joey go sailing with him if he asked? Joey smiles and bites her lip and tells him that he "wouldn't have to ask." He smiles a little and starts to say something else, but she says, "I'll see ya," and heads off. "See ya, Joey," he calls after her. Something in his voice brings her up short and she stares at him, alarmed, but Pacey only smiles, so she walks away.
Back from commercials to the empty graduation grandstand. Pacey, all alone, sits in the chairs and feels the sun on his face and looks pleased with himself -- except that it's clearly an overcast day in the shot. Whatever. An ovary burbles as Pacey smiles and gets up and walks away.
At the PB&B, Joey is hustling down the front steps in her blue graduation gown and grousing at Bessie about not wanting to get there late, and Bessie's all "chill out, sister," and finally she catches up to Joey at the truck, and she gets out a tube of lipstick and starts daubing it on Joey's lips, just like she did in the first episode. Aw. Bessie asks, a bit too absently, if Joey got around to reading the letter from their mom yet; Joey nods that she did. Bessie seems disappointed that she's not getting the scoop, but says she doesn't "wanna be nosy or anything," so Joey assures her that if she told Bessie about the letter, "we'd both start crying." But she adds that their mother got one thing right: "You did a great job taking care of me." Bessie is tickled, but says that, while it's sweet, it's also not fair: "You deserved a mom." Joey says, "Bessie, I got two." Awwwwww! Bessie blinks at her, then snorts tearfully that she thought Joey didn't want them to start crying, and the sisters share a big hug and tell each other, "I love you." You know, it's not like I care or anything, but I teared up a little there. Nice scene by those two, and I'd like to reiterate that the writers had a great potential storyline with the Potter family dynamic, and it's too bad that they ruined it with cheap schmaltz.
Aaaand now we wind up The Graduation Family Hour with Grams and Jen. Grams tells Jen that she looks "relaxed and radiant." Jen crabs about the cello music, and thanks Grams "for understanding" about the sprinkler thing. Grams says she knows about Principal Smalls's taste in music, and she thinks Jen's "been punished enough already." Heh. Grams adds that Jen would "have to do a lot worse to undo how very proud [Grams is] of [Jen] today." Aww. Guess what they do . Yes. They hug.
Dawson and Joey head for their seats, and Joey says that the Leerys "are so cute" and that they look like "total emotional train wrecks," and we get a shot of Gale crying on The Flash's shoulder as Dawson says fondly, "Yeah, they are." Dawson then begins babbling on about "polyester choir robes" and the "fashion Einstein" who came up with the caps -- not surprisingly, since his own cap is roughly the circumference of a crop circle -- and Joey stares at him in disbelief and then laughs, and Dawson is happy that he got her to smile and stop stressing about her speech for a minute, and Joey's says all intensely, "Yeah…tell me more," and Dawson's like, "Sorry, that's all I've got," and tells her to go "sit up onstage with the rest of the smart kids." A frond from his tassel blows in the breeze and gets hooked on one of his massive eyebrows as he reassures her, "You'll be great." Joey doesn’t look convinced.
Again with the ovary murdering "Fields Of Gold" as we fade into Principal Smalls introducing Joey as the class salutatorian. Shot of the gang clapping; shot of Gale and Bessie clapping and exchanging proud looks. Joey takes a deep breath and launches into her speech, talking about what she and her fellow graduates share; after a joke about her "incredible stage fright," there's a shot of Dawson beaming and Jen smiling affectionately, then a shot of the McPhees smiling, then a shot of Gale squeezing Bessie's shoulder as Joey talks about the outlook for the future. Then the camera's back on Joey for a bit as she mentions people in her life "who are gone now," people who haunt her "in different ways" but who stay with her because she keeps them in her heart. Shot of Dawson, natch. Shot of Jen. Shot of Andie. Joey talks about how, in time, they'll all become just a "population of memories" to one another. Shot of Jack. Joey says that those memories make them who they are, and who they'll be in the future. Shot of Pacey getting out of a cab at the airport as Joey hopes that, wherever their travels take them, they'll always take Capeside with them. She congratulates the class, and everyone starts clapping, and we go to slo-mo as the gang rises from their seats to applaud, and Joey smiles down at the gang, and Drue checks his watch, and then the sprinklers go off. Well, of course they do. Everyone screams. Jen points at Drue and grins, and he grins back, and Joey opens her mouth wide and closes her eyes, and Dawson whips off his giant mortarboard and flings it into the air, and everyone else follows suit, and up on the stage, Joey does a happy Mary Tyler Moore twirl in the water.
Cut to the airstrip, still in slo-mo, as Pacey and his duffel bag head out to a prop plane. In voice-over, we hear Principal Smalls calling off names: "Amanda Walters…Cassandra Whitman…Pacey Witter."