November. Scranton.
Pam's been having a hard time sleeping recently. Since she moved into the house. Which she IS excited about, she keeps telling herself. She's lying stiff as a board in bed, and completely awake and her mind is spinning. What should she do? What should she say? She already made her choice, she has to be able to live with it. Even with Jim holding her, it's not enough. Not tonight. Not for the past few weeks.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Jim asks. She likes how he can usually tell her feelings without her having to spell it out for him. She's very glad that he's not perfect at it, though.
Pam sighs and thinks about her answer for a bit. "I keep having nightmares about the clown," she only half-lies.
"Come on, for only a little while longer Beesley, it's not that terrifying."
"Can't sleep. Clown will eat me."
----
October 16. New York.
"So... what's the good word, Pam?" asked Alex once she got to ceramics class. Late. Not by much. Just five minutes. Enough to make a spectacle out of herself. That made it two profs who don't much care for her.
She let out a big breath of air as she plunked herself down beside him and Stacey in the back row of the classroom, where the 'cool' kids all sat. Cool being a relative term here, but it was still an exciting novelty for Pam. "Apparently I missed Dwight giving birth to a buttery watermelon," she whispered to Alex.
"Wha- Do I want to know?"
"No. Very much no." Alex pouted theatrically. "Okay. But first you have to know all about Dwight..." she explained, with increasing gusto, miming his glasses, his haircut, his posture, telling about some of the craziness that is necessary to begin to develop some appreciation for the experience that is Dwight Schrute. She must have gotten a bit too involved, or a bit overexcited - which would explain the snort of a laugh that embarrassed her in front of her friends, disrupted the class, got everyone looking at her, and got her prof to scowl at her.
"Smartly done," said Alex.
"MMmmmmrrpph," replied Pam, from under the jacket where she was hiding.
"Come on," Alex prodded. Literally. "You're missing ceramics class."
"Ceramics class is stupid. I'm staying under here." That was by far the most humiliating thing she'd done... in the past three months. Not coming out. Of course, Alex had to go lift up the corner of her jacket/camouflage and make her face reality.
"Hey. Part of being a big girl is that you can't hide during class."
"Are you calling me fat?" Which got her not only her own jacket back, but Alex's and Stacey's piled on top of her. And then a backpack. And a shoe.
----
November. Scranton.
Pam is cussing like a sailor. She doesn't usually swear, but she would when there was a reason to, and today there is a reason to. No matter what she tries, no matter what actions logic dictate she should do, no matter what implements she uses, it just isn't working.
"Any luck?" Jim pops his head into the hallway, sandwich in hand. He eyes her, obvious amusement on his face as he chews and sprinkles crumbs on the shag carpeting.
She sighs. "I need a crowbar. I'll be back."
"Pam Beesley the Clown Terminator."
Author's Chapter Notes:
Watch out for those tense changes. They'll get ya.
