This commercial break lasts a really long time, and the last commercial features a rent boy -- oops, my bad, Pacey still waiting for Kristy to show up for their date. Kristy finally turns up wearing a dress she borrowed from Pamela Anderson and Pacey gets all excited and starts planning their evening, sprinkling his dialogue with a couple of passive-aggressive references to how late she showed up, as if he couldn't have dropped a quarter and called her house, and Kristy tells him she can't stay because she has a date with -- surprise, surprise -- her boyfriend. "Today's our five-week anniversary," she explains in a helium-enhanced voice, "and he wasn't too stoked that I made other plans." Okay, the writers have actually earned themselves a couple of snaps from me for the so so high-school five-week-anniversary line, and then they ruin it by inserting the word "stoked." Pacey's simian synapses don't really fire and he stares at her and sort of gestures towards the waiting car while Kristy tells him, "I just wanted to stop by and tell you how brave I think you are," and Pacey uncomprehendingly says, "...brave?" and eventually the truth comes out, namely that Andie made up some damn-fool story about Pacey having a supposedly secret congenital "heart stripe" to get Kristy to take pity on him and go out with him, and Kristy keeps talking about his courage in enjoying life even though he lives it "under the constant threat of death," and his stoicism in not wanting any special treatment, and I have to wonder how these two DIDN'T KNOW EACH OTHER if they grew up in the same minuscule town their whole lives, and even if they didn't, Kristy would have heard of the kid with the heart ailment, especially if she saw him in gym class every week, and where did her Valley Girl accent come from, because, like, bag Pacey, I am so SHURE, and do the writers of "Three's Company" know that Andie stole this idea without their permission? Anyhow, it turns out that Kristy suffers from asthma and wouldn't want special treatment either, and after a few more admiring comments, Kristy "Obviously NOT Doctor" Livingstone ("I presume") dusts Pacey's ass and trots off to the car when her meathead boyfriend honks the horn and yells, "C'mon, Kristy, let's go" so that her boyfriend can drag her back to his cave by the hair.
Cut back to the Rialto, where a bunch of Old Navy-clad extras have begun filing out of the theater, as well as Grams, who spots Jen sitting in the back pre-crying, and when Grams beckons to Jen to join her Jen juts her jaw out and says half-tearily and half-sulkily, "Fancy meeting you here. So what are you up to now, gonna go find some action now that you're a single woman?" It evidently has not occurred to Jen that Grams, who delivered a baby last season and who packed up her husband of forty years's stuff the day after he died, probably wouldn't hesitate to chuck Jen and all of her worldly belongings out onto the front lawn for talking to her like that, but Grams just says, "Jennifer -- don't SAY those things. I know you're upset about your grandfather, but..." and Jen shakes her head and chews her lip while pre-crying and says, "No, it's not just that. Look at me. I'm sixteen years old -- look what I've become." Good thing it isn't a bit early for a midlife crisis. Not. It is. Jen goes on, "My parents couldn't stand me, so they shipped me off to you." Good thing her parents probably didn't get fed up with all the pre-crying and lip-biting and melodrama. Not. They did. Jen, still blithering: "Here I am, in this strange town without a friend to my name, and...you know what the sad thing is, is that actually I think you may be the best friend I've got -- I'm just not all that sure that you like me." Good thing Jen makes herself so very very likable by whining and whingeing and whimpering all the time and saying what a terrible person she is and waiting for people to correct her and getting depressed when they don't because her Indian name is Wet Blanket. Not. She doesn't. Of course Grams protests that she loves Jen and that she doesn't have anyone else, which she sort of has to say because they have the same last name and everything, and Jen says while crying that she pities her if that's the case, and I have to agree, except that if Grams tolerates this behavior then she forfeits my pity. They hug. Jen asks how Grams liked the movie and Grams chuckles and says, "They're not like they used to be," and I hate to tell her this but "The Last Picture Show" came out in 1971, so I don't know how much more "used to be" she expects, but then she talks about her first date with Jen's grandfather and how they came to the Rialto and how handsome he looked, and that she didn't come to watch the movie, which we could have figured out because Peter Bogdanovich doesn't exactly promote Christian family values, but to be with her husband. I found this hokey, but somewhat touching, particularly since Grams now has to put up with Jen all by herself. Jen says, "I'm so sorry." The two of them watch the usher sweeping up popcorn in his jaunty little uniform.
Cut to Pacey, still attired in his "Designs By Cosmo" shirt, browsing in the hair-colorant aisle of the drugstore, and who to our wondering eyes should appear but Andie, who looks much blonder herself than when we last saw her -- um, memo to the casting director: when you select actors for these roles, get people who have the right hair in the first place. Pacey busts Andie for busting him. Andie tells Pacey that if he thought Kristy would hop and leave her "beautiful all-state football boyfriend" for Pacey, "a sophomore with a heart stripe," he's "massively deluded." Speaking of deluded, what precise brand of crack made the writers think an all-state football player would EVER come off of Cape Cod? Pacey then expounds to Andie on Kristy Livingstone ("I presume") being "kind of like a metaphor," which if we look at that statement closely means that she was actually a simile, but I'll save the semantic hair-splitting for later and confine myself to remarking that the characters on this show should spend a little less time using the WORD "metaphor" and a little MORE time figuring out how to draw a decent one. Anyhow, Kristy and his dyeing his hair both represented his effort to break out of "the black sheep, the loser, the brunette" rut he has gotten stuck in, and I have two words for the rockheads in the media who insist on equating brunettes with mousiness and lack of sex appeal: Sophia. Loren. Thank you and good night. Anyway, Andie sort of takes pity on Pacey and helps him find a decent dye to change his hair back, and he doesn't know if he should trust her, and she says, "You'll just have to take that chance, won't you? Bye, Officer Pacey," in a sing-song voice, thus completing the groundwork for the semi-antagonistic boy-girl friendship-with-sexual-tension that I like to call "Dawson And Joey II: Electric Bugaloo."