The class disperses. Joey, still looking pained, chases "Professor Wilder" out of the classroom and down the stairs. Catching a glimpse of her tortured face, Wilder laughs that Joey "doesn't like that C very much." She doesn't, she says. In fact, she's wondering what she can do to "make that C less of a C." Wilder informs her that, actually, there is -- she can rewrite it. "How can I do that?" Joey asks, following him out into the quad in the ugliest pair of capris I've ever seen. While my response would have been something along the lines of "Well, Joey, first, you need to turn on your computer. And then, start typing," Wilder isn't nearly as mean as I am. He gives her some half-assed and entirely non-constructive advice, which includes asking her about "the boy" in the story. Joey squeals that he's coming to visit her that very weekend! Instead of reminding Joey that she doesn't need to rely entirely on factual events when writing fiction, Wilder nods knowingly. "The problem with your story, Joey Potter, is that it ends at the moment it should begin," he says, squinting down at her. Joey stares at him, maybe wondering why everyone she knows feels compelled to call her by her full name. Wilder raises his brows at her, and then takes off across campus to seduce more nubile undergraduates. She makes a perplexed face and stares after him.
Cue new credits! Complete with jogging. And laughing. And reading. And jumping. And the same stupid song. Also, in one shot, you can see, like, two-thirds of Michelle Williams's breasts. Which, you know, really makes it all worthwhile for me. Hey, did I mention that October is Sarcasm Awareness Month?
Joey jogs through the streets of Boston in a tee shirt and blue shorts, to which she has attached her cellular phone. The phone is tugging her shorts down, bit by bit. She's going to be half-naked by the time she's done with her run. Joey loops around what I assume is the Charles River, trots across town, and heads back to campus. She's loping through the quad when her phone rings. Joey answers it, all out of breath. Dawson. "Are you at the airport?" Joey chirps. "Not exactly, no," the Unholy One replies. "You want the good news or the bad news first?" he asks. The good news is that Dawson's got a new haircut, and it looks...better. The bad news? He's left his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing some sparse dishwater-colored chest hair. Joey makes some piteous "not again" noises, which Dawson ignores in his haste to tell her that he's landed this internship, blah, blah, blah, he can't make it that weekend. "Well, that sucks," Joey says, trying to be cheerful. Dawson admits that he was "kind of looking forward to seeing her." They banter about how they're never going to see each other ever again, and that before they know it, it'll be just "a Christmas card…when [Dawson's] wife remembers." First: Joey should be so lucky. Second: "wife"? Good luck with that, Baldy. Dawson affectionately calls Joey a drama queen, and she half-smiles and wishes him good luck, sucking down her tears of disappointment. She hangs up and looks off across the campus piteously for the fourth time in ten minutes.