Beyond the Pale

"So are you coming over?" Dawson asked Joey as they walked down the hall after their last class.

"I don’t think so," Joey said. "This has been a horrible day, and I think I should just go home and hope tomorrow will be better!"

Dawson smiled at her. "Joey Potter, the ultimate pessimist."

Joey just glared at him. What did he know? She’d gotten up this morning and decided to come to school because she was feeling a lot better. Staying home another day would bore her to death. She’d spent her second hour study hall frantically finishing her English essay, and she knew it was awful. She’d be lucky to get a B for that one. There’d been two pop quizzes that she hadn’t been the least bit prepared for. At lunch she’d dropped tomato sauce from her slice of pizza onto the front of her shirt, and now she looked like a complete slob. And Pacey hadn’t been at school today.

Joey had spent her entire walk to school this morning mentally preparing to see Pacey. What would he say about their little interlude last night? What would she say? Would he give her that hot stare that melted her insides and turned her legs to water? After all of her worrying and thinking, it had been disappointing when he wasn’t even there.

"So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow," Dawson said cheerfully.

"Bye, Dawson," Joey said. Dawson slung his backpack over his shoulder and loped down the sidewalk.

Joey stood indecisively under an oak tree and tried to figure out what to do. As close as they’d been sitting last night, she had a feeling that Pacey had picked up her virus. And if he had, he was probably as miserable as she’d been yesterday, at home by himself with no one to take care of him. Joey sighed, readjusted her pack, and began walking.

Well, if he was sick, it was his fault, Joey thought as she turned left instead of right at the cross street. After all, no one had asked him to slobber all over her last night. Where did he learn to do that, anyway? And what other sexual talents might he have?

Joey pulled her mind out of the gutter and realized that she was about a block from the Witter home. She’d known ever since she’d found out Pacey was absent that she was coming over here. He might think she was an idiot, but she was concerned about him and she couldn’t just go home without checking on him.

Luckily, Police Chief Witter and Doug the psycho-cop would probably be at work. Pacey’s oldest sister had moved to Florida a year ago, and his other two sisters were at BU. Joey didn’t think they came home very much. She didn’t blame them.

Nervously, Joey climbed the porch steps and knocked on the front door. She didn’t hear anything from inside the house. She waited a couple of minutes and then knocked again. "Pacey?" she called. "Are you in there?"

Footsteps. The door opened. Pacey stood in front of her in ripped sweatpants and a t-shirt so faded that she couldn’t tell what had originally been on it. "Well," he said, scowling, "it’s the plague carrier."

Joey immediately bristled. Where was the sensitive guy who’d hugged her tenderly last night when she was upset? Not here, that was for sure! "It’s your own fault, horn dog," she snapped. "You’re the one who insisted on licking all over me! You knew I was sick!"

"Are you comin’ in, or are you just going to stand there and snipe at me?" Pacey asked. He turned and walked into the den, leaving the door open. Sighing, he collapsed on the couch.

Joey rolled her eyes. Patience was not her strong point, anyway, and he was pushing it. She followed Pacey inside, closing the door behind her.

Joey put her pack down and wandered around the room, noticing that it was almost sterile - there were no pictures or decorations of any kind. The only homey touch was the crocheted blanket on the couch, which Pacey had just pulled over himself.

Finally Joey perched on the arm of the couch, right above Pacey’s head. She looked down at him and had to suppress the urge to smooth his tousled hair. "I’m sorry," she said. "Last night, when I said I hoped you’d catch it, I didn’t mean it. I was just mad."

"I know," Pacey said. "I didn’t mean to bite your head off, either. I just feel really rotten."

"I know this doesn’t help right now," Joey said ruefully, "but you’ll feel better tomorrow. I think it’s just a 24 hour thing." She paused. "Uh, do you want me to get you something? I’m not much of a culinary genius, but I could heat up a can of soup."

"Nah." Pacey shrugged. "Nothing sounds good. I’ve just been drinkin’ 7Up all day."

Joey moved from the arm of the couch to a more comfortable position on the carpet. Idly, she pulled at the edge of his blanket. "You missed a completely pointless day at Capeside High."

"For me, they’re all pointless." Pacey grinned at her. "But I’ve been so bored all day here by myself! Tell me something, anything." He pushed the blanket down a little, his hand resting very close to hers.

"Let’s see...there was a pop quiz in History that I totally bombed, and I’ll probably get my worst grade ever on the English essay I turned in today."

Pacey just stared at her.

"Well?" Joey said defensively. "You said tell you anything. You didn’t say it had to be interesting!"

One side of his mouth turned up. "I know, nothing interesting ever happens around here. Except you look like you had a close encounter with a bottle of catsup." Pacey’s finger traced the faded red blotch on her shirt. It was about three inches above her left breast.

Joey looked down at his hand. "It was pizza," she said softly.

"S’okay, we’ll get you a bib." Pacey removed his hand, much to Joey’s disappointment.

You’re pathetic, Josephine, she thought.

"Speaking of History," Pacey said, "did you hear about the extra credit thing?"

"What extra credit thing?" Joey asked. "You know me, I’m always trying to make points."

"If we go tour Fort Jonesboro, we get an extra A averaged in with our spring semester grades." Pacey smirked. "Like that’s gonna do me any good. And we have to prove we were there - either have someone take pictures or video of us at the fort."

"I’m there," Joey said. "I have an A minus in that class right now."

"Stop, you’re making me sick." After a brief pause, Pacey said, "Well, here’s a thought. We, uh, could go out there on Saturday, enjoy the complete boredom of visiting historical sites, snap a few pics, then maybe do something fun like, go to the movies."

"You and me?" Joey said.

"Well...yeah." Pacey frowned. "I don’t see anyone else in the room."

It seemed almost like Pacey was asking her out. If he really didn’t want to be with just her, he would have suggested asking Dawson to come along. Wouldn’t he?

"Yeah, okay," Joey said, striving to sound casual and unconcerned. "Will we be riding in the deathtrap?"

"Hey," Pacey said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Show some respect for the Witter family truck. As I recall, you don’t have wheels of any kind." "You have a lot of nerve calling that thing ‘wheels’." Joey got to her feet. She was suddenly too restless to sit still.

"Are you leaving?" Pacey asked.

"Yeah, I’d better go," Joey said. "Homework."

"Thanks for coming over," Pacey said. His dark eyes seemed to examine every inch of her and like what they saw. He smiled.

Flustered, Joey moved toward the door, shouldering her pack. She turned, her hand on the knob. "Pace?"

"Yeah?"

Joey knew she was treading risky ground here, but she felt something needed to be said. She wanted to make him think about her as much as she’d been thinking about him. Spark his interest.

"I didn’t get mad at you last night because of what you did," Joey said.

Pacey waited.

Joey looked him straight in the eye and smiled ever so slightly. "I was mad because you were right. I did like it, and I didn’t want you to stop."

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