Pick A Part That's New<title> <body bgcolor=#000000> <font color=#ADD8E6> <centeR> <font size=6>Pick A Part That's New<br> <font size=4>Part Four in the Series<br> By: Nicola<p><HR><P> <font size=3><small></center> <B>Rating:</b> PG-13 -- for some language and a bit of sex, nothing too corrupting<P> <B>Classification:</b> P/J <P> <B>Story Synopsis:</b> When Joey returns from her trip away, she starts acting more than slightly strangely. Is she merely outgrowing Capeside and all the friends it holds for her, or is her weird behavior down to something else? <P><HR><P> </small> It was a warm, muggy day in Capeside and the sun blazed down over the high school. Pacey squinted against the glare, his eyes fixed on a gathering of teenagers a short distance away. The tennis courts, situated at the back of Capeside High, far away from the watchful eye of any teachers, were a notorious hangout for smokers and drug dealers.<p> A cigarette dangled from Joey’s fingers and Pacey watched as she raised it to meet her lips, inhaling deeply. Pacey sighed, shaking his head sadly. So she was smoking now, he thought dully. Yet another vice to add to the list she’d accumulated lately. What next? Cannabis? Then something harder: ecstasy, maybe some smack? Probably whatever her new best friends gave her. Pretty soon she’d be living off welfare in some seedy bedsit, pregnant by an abusive, tattoo-covered hell’s angel.<p> Something had to be done, that much was certain -- and since Dawson was off in a world of his own, even more than usual, these days (his best friend spent each day moping and analysing every aspect of his and Joey’s break-up to death and would hardly be much help in snapping Joey out of her decidedly weird behavior), it seemed it was up to him. <p> Quite frankly, Pacey could think of plenty of things he’d rather be doing with his break, but although Joey had a tendency to get on his nerves some of the time -- well, make that most of the time -- it didn’t mean he didn’t care for her. She was his friend and that meant it was his responsibility to look out for her.<p> Striding purposefully toward the congregated group of various school rebels, Pacey fell in line with Joey, leaning against the wall in a stance of uninhibitation.<p> “Hey Joey, how’s it going?” he asked with fake brightness.<p> “What do you want?” Joey replied distastefully, irritation conveying in her tone.<p> “Two minutes of your so very precious time,” he held up two deliberately chosen fingers to illustrate his point. “Shall we go somewhere more private or would you rather we had our little chat in front of all your new buddies?” Pacey raised his voice so that several nearby girls looked up.<p> Joey hesitated, but reluctantly stalked across to a small, grassy area which was carefully out of earshot of the rest of the group and also partially shielded from view by a large Willow tree.<p> “What’s this all about then, Pacey?” she demanded, hands on hips.<p> Pacey paused, considering. In a quick sweep of his gaze, he took in her appearance. She wore an obscenely short skirt, matched with knee-high “fuck me” boots and her eyes were surrounded by a large amount of dark make-up, which Pacey privately thought made her resemble a panda. It was certainly a far cry from her usual tom-boy style.<p> “It’s about you acting like a first-class bitch,” he said at last.<p> “<i>Acting</i> like a bitch? Oh, I don’t know about that. Maybe this is just how I am. Did you ever think of that?”<p> “Come off it, Joey. This isn’t you.”<p> “You’re suddenly the expert on me, huh?” Joey scoffed. Then something seemed to occur to her and a slow smile spread across her lips. Stepping closer to Pacey, she lowered her voice so that it was throaty and alluring. “You know what <i>I</i> think this is about?” she whispered, her voice gently mocking. “I think you’ve been having second thoughts about the other night. I think you’re maybe regretting saying no then.”<p> Pacey narrowed his eyes, finally placing the scent which lingered on her breath; the stale, bitter odour of alcohol.<p> “God, Joey, you’re drunk!” he exclaimed in disgust, pushing her roughly away.<p> “Oh, someone give the boy a prize!” she taunted, clapping her hands together mockingly. Now the slur in her voice was pronounced. “It’s not like you’ve never had a drink in you’re life.”<p> “Yeah, but I don’t get wasted at 11 o’clock in the morning,” he pointed out.<p> “I don’t have to take this crap, not from you, not from anyone.” Spinning on her heel, she began to walk away, swaying ever so slightly from side to side.<p> “Who are you?” Pacey questioned, calling after her “This isn’t the Joey I know, so who are you?”<p> When Joey turned back, her eyes were sparking with anger. “What, you mean I’m not the old Joey? Joey the loser. Joey ‘dysfunction is my middle name’. Damn right I’m not that Joey. Who would want to be?”<p> Although Pacey knew Joey’s words were partly drink-induced, they still stung. Was this how Joey really felt? Was this part of the reason for her sudden strange behavior? His face softened and he reached out to touch her shoulder.<p> “Let me in Joey, let me help you.”<p> For a moment Joey faltered, her mask of anger slipping, showing her true hurt and unimaginable sadness. Just as quickly as it had lapsed though, the facade returned, equally hard and contemptuous.<p> Joey jerked her arm away. “I don’t need your help, Pacey. I need you to leave me alone. Why can’t you just let me be?” she screamed, and without waiting for a response disappeared around the side of the building.<p> Pacey sighed, muttering under his breath “You do need help, no matter how much you deny it. Something’s going on with you and I intend to find out what it is.”<p> <center><i>[Song: “Alcohol” by the Barenaked Ladies]</i></center>