Through her classes and new friends, she’s exposed to more styles of art, video games, sports, music, and people.

Oscar, Kev, and Phyllis, she decides, are strictly (okay, so most of the time they’ll be strictly) office buds. They’re awesome and all, but eight hours a day, five days a week is plenty.

On a particularly bleak Sunday morning, she decides to drive up and visit her mother. Standing in the kitchen of the house she grew up in, she decides this is the type of house she wants to own someday. Her mother clicks on the radio to a local country.

Pam’s only heard this song once before, but this time, for some reason, it hits closer to home. "Mom," she asks, sipping a bottle of water, "what’s this song?"

"Um…Oh, goodness, I know this. Oh! That...Teardrops song, by that girl Taylor… Something or other… Swift, I think. Pretty, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," she chuckles.

Her mother knows.

**

When her birthday rolls around, Michael wants to throw her a party in the office. She declines, saying she’d be much more comfortable in the new house she’s going to be making payments on for the next twenty-something years (it’s so much like her mother’s house – how could she not? She’s even having a terrace put in sometime next month!).

She invites everyone personally. She even invites Karen, who rejects her: "We’re going to Philadelphia that weekend…Jim’s got Phillies tickets, or something." No sorry. No nothing.

The Friday of the party, she hands out hand-drawn maps (each one’s got a different doodling on it; she was really bored). Stopping behind Jim’s desk, she decides to make one last push.

She planned to have the television on (and tuned into the game) that night for noise (that, and she had really grown to love baseball; it was consistent, yet unpredictable, and filled three lonely hours a night for a hundred and sixty-two nights a year).

"Um…"

"I hope you can make it tonight," she smiles, placing a map on his desk. "I mean, Karen told me you’re going to Philadelphia tomorrow so whatever, if you can’t come…"

His expression changes three times before he manages: "What’s this?"

"A map," she turns to walk back to her desk.

"I know where you live, Pam," he smiles smugly.

"No, no, no. I let Roy keep the house in the west end. He paid for it."

His mouth forms an ‘O,’ and his discomfort is obvious. "What’s this for?"

"My party…I turn 27 tomorrow. Karen…Didn’t tell you I was doing this?"

"No. Maybe. She might’ve mentioned it. Um. I’ll try to swing by," he smiles, holding the map up.

Don’t bother, she wants to say. Don’t bother. This was my one last bold move. I’m done worrying and wondering after this. Stop trying, Jim. Make it easier for me to give you up. Do something. I’m up three moves to your two here. Even it out.

She counts the ‘COME BACK!’ phone message as a "move."

**

Everyone shows up. The people from her classes are really cool, and they seem to be getting along with everyone from the office. Dwight shows up, but seems distracted. Angela leaves after a few minutes, having dropped off her gift and had a cup of lemonade. Dwight leaves shortly after.

Her neighbors were invited, too, so nobody complains about the music or extremely loud laughing.

Or the tasteless dancing and partying in the front yard.

Jim and Karen show up, holding hands and carrying a wrapped box. Karen releases her death-grip on Jim and wanders off to chat with Phyllis and Bob Vance, leaving Jim standing in the middle of the living room like an idiot.

Pam’s talking with Kevin and Stacey, who asks where Pam got her jersey, and how much she paid for it. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jim lean against the wall by the window, watching the television, but she knows he’s only looking at it, not seeing it. "Excuse me," she smiles, "I think I forgot to greet some guests." Kevin and Stacey nod their approval, like I need that, she smiles.

"Hey, Jim!" She runs up and waves at him, her body language trying to be simply surprised. She does this weird limbo-like move, only on her right side, bending into his line of vision and waving. "You made it!" She extends her hand.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Nice place, Beesly." He looks cautiously at her hand, as though it might burn him, but reaches out and shakes it, anyway.

"I like it," she laughs softly. "Want to meet everyone?"

"Um, nah, I’m cool. Listen, do you think we could maybe talk somewhere?"

"Um…Now?" She sighs; she’s tired of this game.

"Well, I mean, you’re busy, but sometime soon, you know, to um, catch up?" He wonders why that came out as a question.

"Um, you know what?" She looks around. "Yeah. Okay. Give me a minute and I’ll meet you out on the porch swing." She smiles that full, toothy smile he didn’t know she was capable of (until she’d really became Fancy New Beesly, and started hanging out with Oscar, Kevin, and Phyllis), and spins on her heels.

She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip in silent victory as soon as her back is turned. "Jordan," she whispers.

Jordan’s her new best friend; she’d met him through Greg from her Wednesday art class. Greg and Jordan were, well, involved. "Jordan!" She walks over and nudges him with her beer bottle. "See that guy heading out the front door?"

"Shaggy hair? Oh, is that him?!" She smiles and nods silently. He grips her arms and shakes her slightly: "Pam, if you don’t go talk to him right. Now. I’m going to smack you. Go, woman!"

"I am, I am!" She laughs, brushing him off. "I’m making him sweat it a little," she winks and takes a sip.

"Oh, my! Pam Beesly’s got a dark side, everyone!" he yells (not that anyone could hear).

She slowly makes her way to the front of the house, smiling at everyone she passes (even Michael hasn’t made a complete and total ass of himself yet. Yet.). She walks out front a few minutes later and sees Jim sitting on her porch swing, waiting like she’d asked.

"Halpert," she greets, standing in front of him. She isn’t smiling anymore.

"Hey, Pam." He tries to smile a sad, sympathetic smile, but she thinks he looks flat out pathetic. "Who was that guy that was all over you in there?" He hadn’t meant that to sound so full of jealousy.

"A friend of a friend. Met him through a guy in my art class. They’re…involved," she laughs. She hadn’t meant it to sound so bitchy.

"You’re taking classes?" He asks; eyes wide.

"…Yeah. I am. Can’t be a receptionist forever," she shrugs. Déjà vu, she thinks. She takes a risk, sitting down next to him. She sits with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped out in front of her, staring at the wooden deck below her.

"And Roy’s okay with that?"

"What makes you think I need his permission? And I don’t know if he is or not, or what it would matter – we broke up." She glares at him, and he pulls back a bit.

"Oh…When?"

"Um. Right after you left for Stamford? Hence the new house and everything…"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. You let him keep the house, I forgot…"

She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. He turns towards her, one arm thrown over the back of the swing, the other hand resting on her forearm. "Pam," he whispers, leaning in.

She leans in, just enough to smell his cologne. She thinks she might give in.

Jordan’s been watching through the window. He knows her weaknesses, and knows better than to let her do this. He runs to the door and sticks his head out, "Pam! Come sing Cyndi Lauper with me on the karaoke machine!"

She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip. "Okay!" She agrees, a little too cheerfully for Jim’s liking (maybe that’s because his eyes were closed, too; he doesn’t know she’s still got hers clenched), still inches from his face. She stands to walk towards Jordan, who has his free arm extended towards her.

"Pam." Jim stands up and runs to stand in front of her. "What’s the matter with you?" He whispers.

"Are you sure Karen's okay with you being out here?" She asks, brushing past him, laughing as Jordan takes her into the house with a protective arm slung around her waist.

"Is what okay with Queen Bitch Karen?" Jordan whispered, though he already knew. That was the nickname Greg and Jordan had come up with one night after Pam had had one too many and started spilling all of the awful things Karen had said or done, or not said but shouted in extremely hateful looks directed at Pam, and Pam alone.

"I have no idea…Him making a drunken move on me? He asked if my taking classes were okay with Roy, so I figured it was only fair to take my own hit below the belt." Jordan hugs her closer to him and tells everyone to clear the couch.

He lifts her up, screaming with laughter, and sets her on her couch. She dramatically extends a hand to help him up, and ask Phyllis to hand her the karaoke machine microphones. "Phyllis, m’lady, if you please…Cyndi Lauper, ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’" Phyllis obliges quickly, and soon, everyone has wandered into the living room from…wherever they had been, to watch Jordan and Pam sing off-key and stumble over each other on her new couch.

Pam sees Jim take Karen’s hand and pull her out of the house. A moment later, headlights sweep across her living room, so she reaches for another beer, hands the microphone to another student from her class, and heads into the kitchen. Three strikes, and you’re out, Halpert. Four should be a crime.