02/14/02

Opening her eyes, she looked up at Miss Jacobs, watching her as she made small notations in the book on her desk. She was easily thirty, maybe older. If the rumblings of the rumor mill were true, divorced from an emotionally and possibly physically abusive husband.

Half the male faculty was hot for her and over half the male students. Football players preened in front of her, showing off deltoids, biceps and triceps, never once understanding she was only interested in their brain.

Was that why she liked Pacey?

Joey shook her head. Dawson had told her about the tape, about Pacey's claim that he was the throbbing neck muscles. She'd snuck in and watched it again - marveling that Pacey had actually believed Dawson hadn't made copies. She'd tried to watch clinically, to make herself see Pacey and, by that sheer fact alone, be disgusted, but every viewing just seemed so raw, so base, so honest.

She'd been horrified when she'd first seen the tape, sure that the knowledge that "his Miss Jacobs" was doing some random guy at the Ruins would destroy Pacey. That had been bad enough - feeling for him - but finding out it was him was worse.

Because every time she watched it heat coiled inside her. She could feel it like a living thing, spiraling down until she ached. And reconciling that with Pacey, reconciling that tender, honest, burning need, that hunger on the screen with the smart ass, troublemaking, egotistical jerk she liked to pretend he was just wasn't possible.

How could the Pacey that grabbed her ass - playfully, carelessly, irritatingly - be the same guy that ran his fingers through Miss Jacobs's hair? Who touched and bared her skin so slowly, covering it with shaking hands and gentle kisses.

"All right, class." She broke the restless silence. "Let's talk about the poem. Who can tell me what it's about?"

"It's about getting laid."

Part of the class laughed as Miss Jacobs walked around her desk, perching on the edge of it. A slight smile lifted one corner of her mouth. "In some ways, yes. But what else?"

"It's about…" Joey blushed as all eyes turned to her. "It's about seduction. Dark seduction. Playing on a woman's weaknesses, her inferiority complexes to seduce her into becoming his lover. Using her youth and lack of self-esteem against her."

"You automatically assume youth, Joey." She smiled her encouragement. "Why?"

"Because of the time period. Women married younger, and yet he calls out to virgins. Not to say that there wasn't premarital sex back then, but…" Joey shrugged. "Besides, aren't younger people usually easier prey?"

"I pray every night some older woman will prey on me."

Joey ignored Grant Bodine and his football buddies, all of them seniors in a sophomore English class. "He wants a pretty young wife or lover that he can mold and be the first to have, to control. The trophy wife concept. Hoping that a woman who hasn't reached her sexual peak won't notice that he's way past his."

"Thanks to Joey for turning this into another girlie rant. What's the matter, Potter? That time of the month?" The class applauded loudly and Joey glared at Grant. The bell ran and everyone started moving toward the door.

"Tomorrow we start discussing The Scarlet Letter. Be sure to do the assigned reading." Miss Jacobs glanced at Joey. "Can I see you for a moment?"

Joey shrugged and gathered her books, ignoring the looks and snickers of the rest of the class. As the door closed behind the last student, she moved up to the front of the room, standing beside the desk as Miss Jacobs sat down behind it.

"Please sit down, Joey."

"Sure." She slid into the desk in front of Miss Jacobs's.

The teacher was silent for a few moments, finally lifting her eyes to Joey and sighing. "Joey…"

"Look, I'm sorry about the feminist rant. It's just…the whole misogynistic…"

"No, Joey. I actually enjoyed it. That's the kind of perspective I want to see in class. Challenging the usual interpretations, focusing on bringing what's considered classic into a modern day reality."

Joey nodded. Did Pacey see this in her? Or did he just see her beauty? Was it more? Did they talk about poetry together? Or just talk dirty? "Then…I guess I'm just a little confused as to why you wanted to see me, Miss Jacobs."

"Because of what you said." She held up her hand as Joey started to speak. "I know that's a contradiction. I guess it's more of how you said it." She lowered her voice slightly. "Joey, are you in any kind of trouble? A…a situation of this kind?" She tapped the English book, the poem. "Is there an adult, a teacher attempting to pressure you into a sexual relationship?"

"What?" Joey sputtered the word on a disbelieving laugh. "What?"

"You just seemed to have some…issues with the subtext of the poem."

"It's pretty much text, Miss Jacobs."

She blew out a breath. "Yes. Regardless…"

"No. No one is trying to force me into anything. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"It's always younger women. I guess it all made sense back then, since the majority of writers were male, but even now, even though science has shown that an older woman/younger man scenario is more viable, there's hardly any literature on it."

Miss Jacobs cleared her throat. "I'm sure that stems from the age-old views of women as property, the days when marrying age was fourteen."

"A lot has changed since then."

"True. But women are still viewed as the weaker sex. Less predatory, less knowledgeable. Besides, there are several books and movies out there depicting the older woman/younger man romance. Terry McMillan's How Stella Got Her Groove Back, and Zorah Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God being the two most famous literary examples." She paused for a moment. "They're both very strong male fantasy elements."

"But even in today's romance novels, which are largely written by women, the girl's a virgin, often just out of her teens and the guy is at least ten years older."

"You're right," Miss Jacobs shrugged. "But I wouldn't suggest people read romance novels for any kind of clear view of life." She closed the two books on her desk. "Thank you for staying, Joey."

"Thanks for your concern, Miss Jacobs." She picked up her backpack, fixing the strap over her shoulder. "Miss Jacobs?"

She looked up from her desk, her expression somewhat guarded. "Yes?"

"One of my…friends, Pacey Witter? He's in your second period English class?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's a lousy student, but he's really smart. So just…" Joey sighed softly. "Just be careful with him, okay? Make sure he makes it out alive?"

"Miss Jacobs?" Joey edged open the classroom door, standing just inside the room as she watched her teacher carefully stack items in the box on her desk. Her movements were slow and precise, controlled despite the wild look in her eyes. "May I come in?"

"I'm not supposed to associate with any of the students, Joey. It would be better for everyone if you left."

"You're leaving?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? Your friend Pacey made sure of that."

Joey didn't say anything for a long moment, bowing her head to avoid eye contact as Miss Jacobs sniffed back tears. "Well," she said after a minute, clearing her throat, "if you're leaving, you're not really my teacher anymore, so therefore I'm not a student. Which means I can talk to you."

"What would you like to talk about, Joey?" She nailed her with a sharp look. "If we talk about English then we're falling into the role of student and teacher and I'm afraid that right now, that's not allowed. Or would you prefer to talk about the rumor that's currently winging its way through the halls of Capeside High? Actually, I'm sure it's gone way past the school by now. The whole town's probably up in arms at this point."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why would I?" She laughed harshly. "And why in the hell would I want to talk about it with you?"

"I don't…"

"Just go back to wherever it is that Pacey's waiting and tell him I had no desire to talk with him or any emissary he feels like sending."

"I'm not here for Pacey."

"I'm not going to talk about it." She grabbed the lid from the top of her barren desk and slipped it over the box. "In fact, my lawyer told me not to talk about it. So if you'll excuse me, I've got a premises to vacate."

Joey didn't say anything as Miss Jacobs grabbed the box, lifting it and heading for the opposite door. She waited in silence, unsure of what to do before following, hurrying down the darkened hallway, following in the echoing footsteps of the older woman's high-heeled shoes.

"Miss Jacobs."

Tamara set the box in the back seat of her convertible and turned around to face Joey. Her features were hard and cold, anger and frustration easily visible. "What do you want, Joey?"

"I just want to talk. And away from the school is fine with me. I just need…"

"What? What do you need? And why do you think I should care about it? Do you know what happened to me today, Joey? Do you? Do you know that I lost my job, regardless of what happens at the hearing they're discussing? Do you know that there's a very real chance I will never be able to do the job I love again, simply because your friend couldn't keep his big mouth shut?"

"Pacey never meant…"

"Do you think I care what he meant? Do you really think that matters to me? He destroyed my life, Joey."

"And you should have known better."

Miss Jacobs stopped and blew out her breath, keeping her gaze on Joey. "You're right. I should have."

"You did know better."

"I did."

"And yet you did it anyway." Joey glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one else was around. "And I just want to know why." The silence seemed oppressive. "Please?"

"Climb in. I'll give you a ride home."

They were silent the entire length of the car ride, the air thick with unspoken words as Tamara pulled into her driveway. Stopping the car, she stared out at the tall grasses waving on the hill next to her house. "I'd invite you in, but I'm afraid someone might think I was taking advantage of you." She smirked. "Although that would certainly let Pacey off the hook, wouldn't it?"

"Miss Jacobs?" Joey turned slightly, watching the controlled profile, seeing past the composure to the threat of tears. "I know I have no right to ask. I mean, it's none of my business and you have every right to tell me to leave you alone."

"Leave me alone, Joey."

"But I just have to ask you why you did it." She turned away, staring down at her own hands. "Why sleep with a student at all? You knew it was wrong."

"Yes." She leaned back, closing her eyes. "I did."

"So why?"

"You know Pacey, Joey. Do you really have to ask?" She turned and faced Joey, smiling at the look on her face. "You do, don't you? I forget sometimes that you're fifteen. Which may be the root of my problem." Joey gave Miss Jacobs an unsure smile as she laughed at her own joke. Shaking her head, she cleared her throat. "You're young, Joey, so you don't see it. You don't see the kind of man he is."

"He's not a man though, Miss Jacobs. Trust me, because I've known him a lot longer than you. Pacey's a kid. Maybe not physically, not since he shot up in the seventh grade, but emotionally and in all other ways, he's just a kid. No attention span, smart mouth, no discipline. He doesn't get that there are repercussions to things. He doesn't see it."

"No, Joey. You don't." She said the words gently. "And you won't because you only see him as the boy you've known for so long. But he's become much more than that and that is why, even though I knew it was wrong, I was with him. Because he's gentle and kind, smart and funny, intelligent and witty, loving and caring. Yes, he's insecure in so many ways and yes, he does things that prove his age but…" She paused and reached up, rubbing her eyes. "You'll never understand, Joey."

"What?"

"That I love him."

"You're right." Joey's voice was sad and small. "I can't understand that. I can't see how you can do something you know is wrong and claim something so right from it. How can you love him if you put him at risk like this? This is his whole future! And he's never going to live this down. You don't know his family and you don't know this town. And right now, he's a pariah and it just reinforces everything he hates about himself."

"He always thought you hated him."

Tears stung Joey's eyes. "How could you do it if you love him?"

"Because I didn't know how to stop. I didn't want to stop, Joey. Someday you're going to learn there are people that find you and know you and you can't help yourself with them. You give in and you hang on because they make everything matter."

Joey was silent except for the quiet sniff of tears. "Pacey did that for you?"

The reply was whispered, barely there between them. "Yes."

"What are you going to do now?"

Miss Jacobs sighed softly. "Call my lawyer so we can deal with the upcoming school board meeting. Then I'm going to leave town."

"Oh?" There was an ocean of hurt in her voice. "What about Pacey?"

"Pacey…Pacey and I knew from the beginning that this couldn't last."

"So you're just leaving him here to face it all alone?"

"He won't be alone, Joey." She climbed out of the car, waiting for Joey to do the same. The brunette glared at her over the white convertible top and turned away, stalking off through the wind-blown reeds, heading toward her house. Tamara bowed her head and took a deep breath, fighting back her tears. "He'll have you."

Joey stopped outside the door, about to raise her hand to knock when she heard it. Glass breaking, screaming. Shouting. Every voice seemed to fill the air, howling outrage and disgust and disappointment and, worst of all, the thick 'I told you so' of satisfaction into the night. The only voice she didn't hear was Pacey's. She moved around to the back of the house, slipping through the two loose cedar boards in the fence into the back yard.

The BBQ stood open, long since rusted. Two empty and overturned beer bottles lay on the patio along with the shattered remains of at least one more. She skirted the circle of light from the sliding glass door, making her way over to the tree beside the house.

She hadn't climbed it in years, but she found old footholds easily in the dark. Edging out onto the branch, she reached over and knocked hard on the window.

He shoved up the glass and turned around, flopping back down onto the bed and covering his head with a pillow. Joey climbed into his room, standing just inside the window.

"Shut it."

She nodded, even though he wasn't looking at her. The glass slid into place with a quiet thump. "Better?"

He didn't say anything, but he did drop the pillow to the bed. Joey leaned back against the wall, resting against her hands. He was naked except for a pair of boxers, his hair damp.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"I was in the shower when my dad got home and decided to exert his authority. He yanked me out and started berating me. I just walked past him into my room and threw something on."

"When did he go downstairs?"

"When my mom got home from grocery shopping. Her complete mortification tied in well with his condescending hatred, so I figure reform school is pretty high on the list of discussion topics right now."

"I heard about what you did and said in front of the school board."

He shrugged, sitting up and grabbing a t-shirt from the floor. "What else was there to say? She and her lawyer were going to deny it all. By doing it myself, I didn't have to actually hear her say things like how could they imagine someone like her could have sex, much less want, someone like me."

"It's easier to say it yourself?"

"I knew I was lying."

"Pacey…"

"What are you doing, Jo? Didn't we already have our little tete a tete down on the docks earlier?"

"I ran into Doug today. He came by to check on Bessie since the ambulance never made it."

"What happened to Bessie?"

Joey smiled. "She had a kid."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Congratulations."

She nodded, chewing her lower lip before raising her eyes to his. "Pacey?"

He didn't look at her, couldn't stand to see the pity in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"For what it's worth? I think she really did love you."

"No offense, Potter, but it's not worth anything."

Joey stood there for a moment, watching him as he turned away, staring at the wall. His shoulders quivered with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. She took a small step forward, stopping and waiting for his reaction. When he didn't look at her she moved even closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stiffened, practically shaking by the time she touched him.

He turned, burying his face in her shoulder, the force of his emotion pushing her down onto the bed. She shifted slightly as he cried against her, one hand stroking his hair as the other smoothed down his back. They lay like that for what seemed like hours, his sobs wracking both their bodies until they slowly faded into hiccups then quiet sighs.

"You okay?" She whispered, her voice cracking, her throat dry.

"Yeah," he whispered. "No."

"Why don't you get some sleep?" She helped him roll onto his back, leaning over him, looking down at his bloodshot eyes, the blue brighter than she'd ever seen it. She offered him a small smile and leaned down, kissing his forehead gently. "Goodnight, Pacey."

He closed his eyes, managed a weak grin as she headed back toward the window. "Jo?"

"Yeah?" She stopped and turned, watching him in the moonlight.

"You really think she loved me?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I really do."

12/04/02