#nigel chey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ambitionsource · 2 years ago

Text

AMBITION “Living Memory” [ 4.11 ]♮PART 1, half 2

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Nigel is grabbing a quick lunch before his afternoon class, taking the peace of most of his family being out in the middle of the day to catch up on some reading. So he isn’t expecting his father to step back into the kitchen, lifting his eyes from his book.

For a moment, the two stare at each other, not sure what to say. Then, Ernesto fills the silence.

Ernesto: Another job just came up over in Queens. So will be heading over there soon. [ off his nod ] What are you reading?

Nigel holds up the book so he can see the title. Titus Andronicus. Ernesto hums.

Ernesto: That is a good one. Heavy, though. Nigel: Yeah. You’re the one who raised me on Romeo & Juliet. Ernesto: True. Perhaps I am guilty as charged.

That manages to earn the smallest of smiles from Nigel. It definitely is a bit easier to breathe around his dad, who has shared his appreciation for literature and always seemed to “get” him.

Even if his reaction to his ambitions wasn’t the most encouraging either. Ernesto chooses to try to address that, clearing his throat.

Ernesto: It’s been very quiet around here. Since that… big conversation. Your mom is quite upset. Nigel: Is she? That makes two of us. Ernesto: The things that were said… there wasn’t any ill intent, Nigel. You know that we both are very proud of you, and all your passions.

Actually, Nigel thought he knew that, but now it all feels up in the air. That’s precisely the problem. Words are just words, after all… and if someone hears the wrong ones more than the right…

Ernesto: It was just surprising. You didn’t bring it up to us with much time to consider it. Nigel: When exactly was I supposed to? How much time would you have needed? A day? A week? My whole life? Because based on what mom said, sounds like she would’ve been ready… never. Ernesto: That’s not true. That’s not how she feels. Nigel: Well, that’s what I heard. And she’s not the one standing here trying to convince me otherwise, so doesn’t that kind of speak for itself?

Ernesto frowns, but he can’t argue against that. The fact is, Nigel is more like Liezel than he realizes -- both of them are quiet, and a bit stubborn when they feel they’re in the right, and absolutely hate confrontation.

Ernesto: We just want what’s best for you, Nigel. It takes a bit of time to figure out what that is. Nigel: Cool. Glad what I want seems to be a big factor in that equation.

Ernesto sighs. Not getting anywhere. Not that it really matters -- he knows this isn’t really about him. It’s up to Nigel and Liezel to work it out. All he can do is try to smooth out the ruffled feathers.

Right now, not going so well. Nigel heads into the living room and grabs his backpack from the couch.

Nigel: I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry… that this sucks, and that I’m not doing it right. That I’m not being what you guys want me to be. Ernesto: That isn’t how we feel. It’s not how I feel.

But he can’t speak for Liezel, and that’s what stings the most.

Nigel: Well, thanks. But now I’ve gotta go to class.

You know, at the school he doesn’t want to be at anymore. He steps out without waiting for a response, Ernesto rubbing his face once he’s alone.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - EXTERIOR HALLWAY - DAY

Nigel exhales a weighted sigh of his own, leaning back against the apartment door. The apartment he’ll probably never leave, trapped in the limitations of his own talent and the expectations of his mother. Perpetual disappointment, potential unfulfilled, destined to always be second string and three steps behind the curve.

Is this all he has left to look forward to? Is this really the rest of his life?

Nigel pushes off the door and starts down the hallway, as the eclectic backing instrumental kicks up --

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “23” as performed by Wallice || Performed by Nigel Chey

Nigel launches into the off-beat soliloquy with gusto, emotion leaking through despite his flat, unaffected delivery. The song is somewhat mocking in tone, but there’s a real insecurity underneath, a youthful desperation that goes deeper than poorly fitting universities. He sings directly towards the camera as he moves down the hall, arriving at the stairwell.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - STAIRWELL - DAY

He plods through the remainder of the first verse as he descends the flights of stairs to the lobby, glimpsing the banal existences of other residents as he passes the doorways. Kids blowing off school with the conviction that there’s nothing more important in life than what they’d rather do right now; women juggling babies on their hips that they couldn’t seem to care less about. Lonely elderly folk with no one to share company with, toddling back to the lonely apartments they’ve inhabited for decades.

All different phases of stuck, stunted by the reality of life.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - LOBBY - DAY

Nigel makes it into the lobby in the build-up to the first chorus, backing up against the main doors and letting the musical confession claw out of his throat.

I’m terrified of the future Scared that I’ll still be a loser!

Then he falls backwards through the doors --

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And bursts into the chorus as he traverses through his neighborhood. Passing by more folks looking disillusioned with life, each of them including Nigel suddenly accompanied by a little rain cloud over their heads. So overshadowed by what isn’t working, the things that are haunting them, that they can’t see the sun right above them.

Nigel rolls through the high-energy chorus, daydreaming about a future where he maybe he just gives up. Skips all the pain of figuring things out, marries his badass successful partner and plays trophy husband instead. Having dreams doesn’t seem to be working out for him otherwise.

He reaches the subway entrance and jogs down the steps…

INT. SUBWAY CAR - MOVING - DAY

Just as the raucous guitar solo takes over, accenting the mundane chaos of the train ride into Manhattan. Nigel is packed into the center of it all, ironic rain cloud still over his head, staring dead at the camera as he sways with the uneven rhythm of the subway. All the other passengers mimic his empty expression, going through the motions just the same.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Nigel is back above ground as he slips into the second verse, this one vulnerable than the first. He’s heading towards NYU campus with his hands stuffed in his pockets, dragging his feet the whole way there. Riffing off how he imagines his parents must feel about him, what they dread is going to be his inevitable future if he screws everything up.

Art school dropout at 21, Disappointed my mom, did it just for fun

He doesn’t want to throw everything out of whack. He doesn’t want to let them down. But as he stares up at the NYU buildings looming over him, promising three more years of contorting into a box he doesn’t quite fit, he just can’t stomach it. He shakes his head and turns the other way.

Had to choose between being broke and bored So I cut my losses and I left New York

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - SHAKESPEARE GARDEN - DAY

So he finds solace in his favorite space, retreating to the familiar comforts of the Shakespeare Garden. This is where he truly starts to crack, the frustration and fear of how everything is spinning out a powerful adversary against his wiser instincts.

Don’t know why I feel so dumb The best of my years are yet to come

But at this point in their lives, when everyone keeps saying you have to have it all figured out, it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Everything feels like the end of the world, and the possibility that there’s better things waiting on the other side feels like a cruel trick to gamble on.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - BOW BRIDGE - DAY

Nigel finishes up the performance while traipsing through the park, repeating the chorus to its conclusion. As the guitar noise fills the soundscape again, he stops in the middle of the bow bridge, dangling his lanyard over the side while he looks down at his reflection in the water.

He doesn’t like what he sees, on a number of fronts. It just isn’t right. He fussily removes an NYU keychain from his key ring, giving it a dissatisfied scowl.

I just can't wait to be all grown up and 23 And tell me what is wrong with me

Reflection frowning back up at him, he throws the keychain away, abruptly cutting off the music as it hits the water. Disrupting his image in a series of ripples as it disappears under the surface, sinking into the darkness.

Grace, pre-lap: Will you please just tell me what’s wrong?

INT. KENNETH’S BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - DAY

Grace is over in her boyfriend’s room, decorated with all the trappings of a typical nineties teenage boy. He’s got some country and punk band posters on the wall, along with taped up baseball cards and mementos from their high school. On a shelf by the door, medals and trophies sit on display from football and baseball alike -- though they don’t seem to get much attention from him.

Right now, Grace is hovering underneath the shelf, arms crossed and feeling equally ignored. Another trophy in his collection, whether he’s always happy about that or not. Because for now, he’s intent on ignoring her, reclined on his bed and absentmindedly tossing a baseball into the air. Pointedly pretending she isn’t there.

Although so much of their romance has been a whirlwind, dreamlike and heart-racing and deep, this is an angle that Grace hasn’t yet figured out how to crack. These odd times where Kenneth seems to morph, to lose his natural charm and become something else. Moody, uncommunicative, cold. So unlike the thoughtful, sunny guy she knows -- the one she’s fallen in love with.

She knows she can be equally reserved, just by nature, but she’s trying. At least she’s trying to communicate and let him in. When he gets like this, it feels like talking to a wall.

Grace: I’m trying to help you, you know. Kenneth: Huh. Don’t remember when I asked for help. Grace: You’ve been in a terrible mood since this weekend. Every time I try to talk it through, you just totally shut me down. If I can do anything to help, I will, but I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s wrong. Kenneth: [ with a scoff ] Yeah, right.

Okay, seriously, what is his deal? She came all the way over here, snuck out to do so since her parents don’t let her visit (on the record) when his parents are out of town, and he’s just going to treat her like this?

Kenneth: I didn’t ask you to come over here. You did that on your own. Grace: Yeah, I did. Because I’m worried about you. But if you’re just going to snipe at me like this, then yeah, maybe I’ll just go -- Kenneth: Ugh, no! Don’t get like that, damn.

As if she’s being the unreasonable one. Grace huffs, eyeing him sharply as he pushes upright to sit on the edge of his bed.

Grace: Then what is your issue? Kenneth: You wouldn’t get it, okay? It doesn’t mean anything to you. Grace: Try me. Kenneth: I’m honestly surprised you don’t already fucking know, since I’ve told you more than once. The game on Friday, the one where we lost by a fucking landslide? That I screwed up? Grace: It wasn’t your fault. It’s a team sport. Maybe the other team was just better. Kenneth: Wow, thanks. You’re so supportive. Grace: I wasn’t -- what I’m saying is -- Kenneth: [ cutting her off ] The point is, we absolutely bit it. And that’s bad shit, because like I told you -- if you cared to listen to anything I say -- the scouts from A&M were there. This was my chance to show them what I’ve got, and they saw me play the biggest loss of my career instead. Grace: … well, there will be other games. Kenneth: Ha, tell that to my fucking dad! You should’ve heard him when we got home. Grace: They scout more than once, right? So when they come back -- Kenneth: Ugh, are you stupid? Do you hear anything I’m saying?! [ getting to his feet ] I screwed up! It’s over for me! I had one shot, and I just had to go and --

He growls and throws the baseball as hard as he can into his laundry basket, a true fastball in such short distance. It has enough power on it to bang the wall behind the basket, causing Grace to flinch.

Even so, she feels for him. She knows the pressure his dad puts on him, how hard he works to be perfect on and off the field. She can empathize with that.

Grace: I’m sorry. I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned. Like I said, there will be other opportunities. A&M would be insane not to want you on their team. Kenneth: Well, tell them that. You can follow my dad on the march right now -- where do you think he and my mama went this afternoon? [ with a snarl ] He’s doing everything he can to grease the right palms so I still have a shot. Grace: You’ll get on your own merit, I know it. You don’t need his help. Kenneth: You don’t know shit, Grace. Stop talking about shit you don’t know.

Well, if being kind isn’t going to work, what is she possibly supposed to do? She holds her arms out in surrender.

Grace: Okay, well, what do you want from me? I’m trying to be supportive -- Kenneth: You’re not doing a great job. Grace: Then tell me what you want. Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it. But if you don’t tell me -- Kenneth: Oh, just stop. Stop lying! Grace: How the hell am I lying? Kenneth: Because we both know that ain’t true. You won’t do anything. We already know there are plenty of things you won’t do.

Grace shakes her head, totally bewildered. Kenneth seems to grow more frustrated at her innocent confusion, pacing slightly and clenching his fists at his sides.

Kenneth: And that just makes it worse. The way you act like you never know what I’m talking about. C’mon, Grace, just cut it out and be real with me. Grace: I don’t know what you’re talking about. What? Kenneth: I’m talking about the fact that you are so fucking frigid! That’s how I know you wouldn’t do “anything” -- because you haven’t. [ with a huff ] I mean, how many times have I told you I wanna be with you, that I’m dying to have you --

Oh, so this is about sex. Sex, and how apparently, she won’t put out. It’s clearly not the first time they’ve discussed it, either, because Grace visibly grows more reserved.

Grace: I don’t get what that has to do with anything. I’ve told you, I just don’t know if I’m ready. Kenneth: No, what you don’t know is whether you love me. If you actually feel about me the way I feel about you. Grace: That is not true. We do plenty of other stuff -- Kenneth: No, it is. It’s obvious. Because when I’m with you, I feel crazy. I feel like I’m on fire, and even just being near you makes me want to kiss you. I’m so in love with you, it’s driving me insane, and it’s all I can do to control myself around you. I want you that badly. But it’s never that way with you. I know it’s not the same. Grace: You don’t know how I feel, clearly, because none of that is true. It’s not that I -- it’s different for me. You’re a guy, you don’t get the pressure -- Kenneth: [ with a bark of a laugh ] Believe me, I know plenty about pressure. Pressure is my whole fucking life. You know that. Grace: It’s not the same. You keep jumping topics -- Kenneth: But I get it. I already know I’m lucky to be with you, that you chose me -- fact is, I wouldn’t want to have sex with me either. I wouldn’t want anything to do with me. It’s about time you figured that out.

Grace hates when he gets like this, when he talks about himself this way. Parroting the things his father tells him, grinding his own self-worth into the dirt. It’s worse than the cold silence, because it hurts her too. It hurts to hear him speak so poorly of the person she loves so much.

Grace: Ken, stop. That’s not true. Kenneth: I’m not good enough for you. We both always knew it. It was just a matter of time. [ cracking ] I’m not good enough for anything, so it’s fitting. I’m a failure, and a waste of space, and can’t do anything right. I’m destined to be that way forever. So just… quit while you’re ahead, all right? Go give it to someone who deserves it. Grace: Kenneth --

She closes the distance between them and touches his arm, turning him to face her. At first, he reacts without thinking, smacking her hand away. But she doesn’t shy away, having gotten used to his thoughtless physical movements -- a side effect of defensive play, she figures -- and pushes past it.

She takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a kiss, allowing that to say what words apparently can’t. Speaking a language he can understand.

It works. He kisses her back instinctively, automatically, as hungrily as he claims being around her makes him feel. Once they break apart, Grace continues to hold him close, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

Grace: You are not a failure. You are not a waste of space. Kenneth: But -- Grace: No. You’re not. You’re good. You are good enough. For everything, but especially for me.

She gives him another kiss, which he eagerly accepts. This one deeper, heavier, than the last. When they manage to pull apart again, Grace holds his gaze… then lowers her hands to start unzipping his jeans.

Kenneth: Grace… Grace: You are good enough. You deserve this. You deserve me. [ with a shaky exhale ] Let me show you how much.

He’s right, after all -- she does want him, even if she’s better trained at hiding it for the sake of Southern decorum. If she’s waiting for the right time, or whatever, what better moment is there than now? When she can make it mean something -- when it can prove just how much she loves him?

If it’ll make him happy, if it’ll fix his broken edges, she’ll do it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Giving Him Something He Can Feel” as performed by En Vogue || Performed by Yindra Amino, Tabitha Flores, Ronica Lewis, Madisyn May, Kimmy Price, and Aleena Sayyid

She doesn’t have to ask twice, considering it’s been what Kenneth has been begging for. He doesn’t hesitate once she signals the willingness, pulling her into another loaded kiss. He nudges her back onto his bed and climbs on top of her, letting her remove his t-shirt.

Grace closes her eyes as he starts to kiss down her neck, losing herself in the moment. Convincing herself it’s right, that it’s what they need -- because it’s love.

As the girl-group harmonies of En Vogue float in… transitioning to a newer mix of voices…

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

The major nineties hit serves as the mixing base for the final girl-group tests, the producers and label executives combining different varieties of the remaining six girls to seek that perfect bombshell combination of five. They isolate certain voices, test their ranges, and pull them in and out of the formation to have them listen to the others -- dreading that they’ll be the one who doesn’t fit.

It’s also a chance to pit them against one another, as they have certain girls sing the same parts nearly back to back. Yindra is highly aware of this as the process unfolds, after the way she’s already been set up against Aleena -- the latter of whom won’t even look at Yindra as the exercise goes on.

She especially feels this with Ronica, who is asked to sing basically every single line that Yindra is, sometimes one right after the other. She’s always known they were the closest direct competition for one another, given their vocal qualities and strength, only now it is being rubbed directly in their faces. At one point, they both record riffs at the same time, looking one another dead in the eye as they sing.

Feeling the pressure, Yindra doesn’t back down. She takes her riff solo to absolutely eviscerate Ronica’s more measured stylizations, belting her heart out and showing off her range. It might even be too much, objectively speaking, but Yindra is desperate. She’ll do whatever it takes to leave her mark -- even if it means humiliating her competition in front of everyone else.

For now, it seems to have the desired effect. The producers seem impressed after their riff-off, and Ronica looks a bit perturbed… as well as sheepish for being outshone. The other girls are clearly abuzz about it as well, whispering to one another. Yindra beams as she’s moved to a different part of the formation, accepting a nod of approval from Tabitha for her good showing.

But once the moment passes, the fierce bite of competition ebbing, Yindra feels weirder about it. She glances at Ronica, then looks away in embarrassment of her own.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - THEATER - DAY

Meanwhile, Zay is in the midst of trying to decide what to do for his talent slot at the transfer gala, pacing the stage. He’s dressed for rehearsal, but it doesn’t seem like he’s done much actual dancing. He’s more so just brainstorming, thinking out loud, occasionally doing a light spin for no reason in particular because when he moves his body is just made to dance.

Zay: I could throw together another whole routine. Or maybe even just do my audition performance again -- I wonder how many times someone has done that -- but to be honest, I don’t really wanna bare my soul out there like that in front of everyone. Not that I couldn’t do it, but once was enough for a semester. Not to mention if I did do that, and then I didn’t get announced as a finalist, that would be enough humiliation to last a lifetime I think.

As it turns out, he’s not just talking into the ether. Charlie is there with him, standing down by the lip of the stage rather than on it. He’s supposed to be helping Zay come up with an idea, seeing as he respects his tastes (mostly) and he’ll be there to see him pull it off anyway.

Only Charlie isn’t doing a great job of that. Even though he’s usually a good listener, he’s zoned out this afternoon, mind elsewhere while Zay rambles on stage.

Zay: If I’m being frank, I think I’m just going to forgo dance all together at this point. Like, all of us know why we’re there. We’ve watched each other dance all year. It’s redundant. You’d hope that most of them would realize I’m already leagues better than they’ll ever be, so I don’t think I need to like rub salt in that wound. But what to do otherwise, well…

Zay trails off when he turns to face the front, catching a better look at Charlie. Noticing he’s uncharacteristically tuned out; eyeing the melancholy expression he’s let slip back onto his face. Although he was able to come off neutral enough when they ran into each other at Chubbies, spending more time together makes the cracks in his facade more obvious. Like by spending even a few more minutes in his company, Zay is holding him up to the light, able to assess all of his less-than-perfect features.

Chubbies didn’t seem like the right place to ask. It wasn’t the right time. But now it’s just the two of them, and Zay has a valid reason to nudge… it feels weird to think about, to contemplate peeling back the lid of the Pandora’s Box between them when they’ve spent so long at an emotional distance…

But it’s Charlie. It’s Charlie, and Zay knows that if he saw him with a similar expression, he’d ask him about it in a heartbeat.

And if there’s anything he can do, for whatever it is, he wants to do it. So Zay clears his throat, starting to saunter back towards the edge of the stage.

Zay: You know --

Charlie jumps slightly, pulled out of his thoughts by the more direct address. He looks up at Zay and quickly plasters on a smile, as if he wasn’t just a million miles away in his own head.

Zay: I know it’s been a while, but I would still consider myself a pretty decent study in the field of Charlie Gardner. And as someone who knows you’re usually a very eager and engaged collaborator, I can’t help but notice you’re a bit… out of sorts.

Charlie shrugs, still maintaining the practiced smile. So convincing.

Charlie: What do you mean? Zay: Dude, you’re like a thousand miles away. Metaphorically, that is. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather have that than you literally that far away, in like France or whatever, but the distance is still felt. Charlie: I don’t… I don’t know what you mean. I’m all good. What were you thinking about for your performance, again? Zay: Ah, classic Chuckles maneuver -- innocent diversion. Which it’s nice that you want to pretend to care about this, but if it were genuine, you would’ve been paying attention like two minutes ago.

Damn… it really is something to be known so well. Charlie scoffs, trying to shrug off the commentary, but it’s pretty difficult when he has him so pegged. Years of friendship don’t just evaporate.

Zay raises his hands in surrender.

Zay: I’m not saying that you have to talk about it -- if there’s anything to talk about. If you’re telling the truth, and there isn’t, okay, no biggie. What I am saying is that if there’s something going on, I’m down to hear about it.

He arrives at the front of the stage, plopping down into a sitting position on the edge and letting his legs dangle. He’s much closer to Charlie this way, only a couple of inches taller and much more effective at looking him in the eyes. Charlie tries to hold his gaze, to prove he’s fine…

But then Zay tilts his head, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, and he cracks. He laughs quietly in spite of himself at first, looking away and pretending the flush in his cheeks isn’t there. Zay cracks a light smile, but doesn’t rush him, patiently waiting for if he decides to share.

So… after a moment, Charlie sighs, nodding in defeat.

Charlie: It’s… you know that thing I was doing the night of your audition? Why I left early? [ off his nod ] Well… um -- that “plan” was telling my mom.

He doesn’t have to say what. All levity from moments before is gone in an instant. Zay grows serious, jaw dropping open.

Zay: Holy shit. No way. Charlie, bleakly: Way. So… that happened. [ with a sheepish laugh ] And you know how I said that it went fine? I lied. It… did not go great.

Charlie laughs again, mostly because if he doesn’t he thinks he might choke on it. Saying it out loud makes it sting more, somehow, like acknowledging it makes it more real.

Zay understands. Because he knows how big a deal this is, how much importance this moment held in Charlie’s mind. He honestly wasn’t sure it would ever happen. Now that it has, and apparently did not go well -- not that he’s surprised, as he’s always had zero faith in Eleanor and her capacity for compassion…

No wonder he’s so subdued. Zay hops down from the stage so they’re at the same height, looking at him with an empathetic frown.

Zay: Shit, Charlie.

Charlie nods, keeping his eyes on his shoes. Mainly to hide the way his face is twisting up, how much he’s working to keep it together. As if Zay can’t tell anyway.

Zay wants to make it better. He wishes he could do something, find some way to make Eleanor’s judgment or the sting of her cruelty hold less power. He wishes he could carry it himself, so that it wouldn’t have to weigh Charlie down any more than it already has for years, even when it was just a threat rather than a reality. Especially now, when he’s been riding such a high, with a newfound confidence and shine that has been impossible to ignore since he got back.

Zay wants to touch him. To comfort him the way he used to, hold him close and share his warmth and give him something to lean on. Being there for him in a way that feels almost dangerously natural, even more so now given that he’s no longer hiding from his own complicated feelings. He nearly does, his hand instinctively reaching out to close the distance between them.

But he can’t. This isn’t about him, or what he wants. It would be selfish, and probably unwise, to bridge that gap when Charlie is so vulnerable. Even if he could just pass it off as friendship, as platonic camaraderie, he’d know damn well in his heart that wasn’t the case.

So Zay stops short, letting his hand come to rest on the stage between them instead.

He still wants to help, though, in whatever minor way he possibly can. He searches for an alternative.

Zay: Look, man. We don’t have to do this right now. My whole stupid -- let’s just forget about it. We can go do whatever, something you wanna do. It’s chill.

Charlie lifts his head to meet his eyes. Despite the thickness to his voice and the gloss in his eyes, when he responds, a bit of fond amusement bleeds through.

Charlie: You seriously think that you blowing off an important opportunity is going to make me feel better?

His number one fan? Be so serious. Zay shrugs, offering no good explanation, but he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s all out of things to give, and he really would give anything to make this hurt less. It’s all he has, and if Charlie needed it, he would let him have it. Easy.

But no. That won’t be necessary. Charlie scoffs out another weak laugh and shakes his head, swiping at his eyes quickly as he pulls himself back together.

Charlie: It’s okay. I’m okay, really. Is it ideal, no, but it is what it is.

It hurts, but it won’t shatter him. He’s not as fragile as he was just a few years ago. He exhales a deep breath, Zay watching him sympathetically.

Zay: I mean it, though. I know you were nice enough to accept my invitation, but you really do not have to go through with this shit just for me if you’re not up for it. I get it. Charlie: No. No, I want to come. And it’s good. The distraction is nice, honestly. I think I just didn’t -- it was harder when you didn’t know, because I didn’t want to like, burden you with it -- Zay: It’s not. A burden. You know you can always talk to me about stuff. Especially this. Charlie: … yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. I just didn’t want to like, make a big deal or anything when you’ve got all this important stuff to work on. But now that you do know, I think… I’ll be able to focus better. Won’t feel as weird, hiding this big thing from you.

Speaking of, they should get back into it. Charlie shakes his arms to shake off the heaviness and suggests they start from scratch, pushing himself up onto the stage. Before he can go too far, Zay reaches out after him and takes his forearm, instantly getting his attention.

Zay: Again, just so we’re clear. If you need to talk about it, I’m here.

Charlie absorbs that -- the sincere declaration, and the warmth of his fingers on his skin. Then he nods, offering a smile that feels lighter than the forced ones from before.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Dylan and Asher are helping Lucas put together his outfit for the funeral tomorrow, assessing his nicest clothing spread out on his bed. It’s just a big wash of grey and black, so they’re off to a strong start.

Asher: This might actually be easier than I thought.

Riley comes to join them, asking if Grace and Jack were able to negotiate with the funeral home to land on a good schedule. Lucas claims they texted him the schedule, passing his phone to Dylan so they can take a look for themselves.

Whatever Riley sees, it’s not good news. She frowns.

Riley: Shit. Asher: What? Riley: The start time -- it’s like right before I go on for the matinee. I was hoping to at least make part of it --

She wanted to be there the whole time. For all of them. She’s evidently distressed about this news, but Lucas doesn’t seem concerned.

Dylan: It’s no big deal, Riley. The whole thing is last-minute anyway, it’s not like you’d be expected to change plans. Asher: Least of all for Kenneth. Riley: I know, but -- Lucas: Riley, it’s fine. Seriously. You don’t need to be there -- fuck, I wouldn’t be there if I could get away with it.

His reassurances are genuine, but they don’t make Riley feel any better. She bites back her emotion and lets them go back to discussing proper funeral attire.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

As the work day is winding down, Josh returns to his desk from the coffee dispenser just as JUSTIN MILLER and Melissa are wrapping up their last meeting of the day. They exit Justin’s office with another YOUNG STARLET (18) in tow, bright-eyed and gorgeous.

In fact, she could be a near dead-ringer for Maya. Josh has to do a double-take, thinking for a second she’s returned, but this girl is just like a carbon copy. As they walk her to the elevator, Justin takes care to introduce her to Josh.

Justin: Oh, Joshie, check this out -- meet Lindsay, our next great find. Josh: Hi, I’m Josh. Young Starlet: Nice to meet you.

They shake hands, Josh polite as always.

Melissa: Josh is the one who keeps the ship running around here. We owe him everything. Justin: No kidding. You’ll learn that quick, friend. And Josh, meet the next big thing. I’m telling you.

He pats Lindsay’s shoulders bracingly, just like he used to with Maya. Almost as if she’s a has-been, or never was, and they’re onto searching for the next instant hit-maker.

Josh says nothing as they walk away and continue chatting, but the resemblance feels striking and he can’t shake the weirdness of it. He’s never paid much attention to the kind of clients Justin and Melissa rope in before, but if he thinks about it, they do seem to have an eye for young, attractive bombshells.

Even so, none of them were Maya Hart. None of them had the talent, or the spark, that she so obviously brought to the table. So it feels even more bizarre that they’re scouting out new talent already, and acting as though her pause is just par for the course.

Like they’re wasting it. Yet again. Once he’s confirmed they’re out of sight, Josh sits back down at his desk and pulls out his phone, pulling up the email he’s had drafted for days. All of his notes on the songs in Maya’s portfolio, locked and loaded and ready to send her way.

He knows she ignored his voicemail. He knows she’s probably over him, working hard on her own stuff, and he should take the hint. But this industry is built on bold moves, and it’s killing him to sit on it and the sense that something isn’t quite right…

Jade, pre-lap: Are you actually seeing this right now?

INT. YINDRA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

JADE BEAMON and Yindra are on a video call with Nigel, the three of them poring over the list of nicknames the label has sent Yindra for if she decides to be the one to take the name swap. Based on their reactions, it’s not a promising start.

Jade: “Drea.” That’s not even part of your name. Nigel: Yindrea? Jade: “Yi Yi.” Nigel: Sounds like Ariana Grande record scratching. Yindra: That’s “yuh,” Nige. Jade: More like sounds Kanye adjacent, which is a big no. Nigel: “Yincé.” Is that just Beyoncé lite?

Case in point, Yindra’s name is simply not built for cutesy nicknames. She paces the room and rubs her temples, trying to block them from her memory.

Jade: “Yinnie.” Nigel: That’s kind of cute. Jade: Yeah, if you’re Yinnie Youse and you work at Yisneyland. Yindra: The bad nicknames are not the issue. Nigel: I’d say they’re part of the issue. Jade: A decent 20%, at least. Yindra: Okay, yes, they’re terrible. But that’s not the point. The nicknames are irrelevant. It’s the principle that I can’t stand.

She resents being encouraged to change who she is -- let alone on the premise that her name isn’t Euro-centric enough to pass. Never has she once cared about that, and she isn’t about to start now.

Yindra: One of the reasons I wanted to go into this industry was to be what I wanted to see. I know how important Destiny’s Child was for me, seeing talented women who looked and sounded like me. If I change those things about me, the things that apparently others deem unconventional… then what am I even doing? What career am I building?

If she’s going to get her start, she wants to be her when she does it. Others may be fine bending to get their break, but that’s not who she is. She can’t stomach it.

Nigel: I hear you. I think you’re right. Jade: Me too. So maybe you just need to tell this other girl that and stand your ground.

Yindra doesn’t seem comfortable with that either. She already feels like an asshole for how she behaved during the last vocal session, even if it objectively worked in her favor. It’s dumb, but this whole thing feels like a trap -- like she’s going to be marking herself as a problem either way.

Yindra: I care about this, but I also don’t want to be the girl starting fights and getting on people’s bad sides before the group is even formed. I don’t want to make that reputation for myself. And the thing is, I like Aleena. She seems chill. I don’t want to make an enemy where I could desperately use an ally.

So the solution is… who knows. She doesn’t know. She knows what she wants, but she isn’t necessarily brave enough yet to assert it -- and she’s dreading the moment Aleena beats her to it and backs her into a corner she’ll have to battle her way out of. And it sucks to be assuming the worst in people, because so far in this industry, she hasn’t been shown she can bet otherwise.

Even so, as challenging as this all is, it’s easier than some of the stuff going on in New York right now. Yindra changes the subject, asking Nigel how things are going for him. Based on how he grows reticent and dodges the question, it’s obvious he hasn’t told either of them about what’s going on with his family -- or his pie-in-the-sky ambition to transfer either.

Thankfully, he has a convenient topic to redirect to that’s far more pressing.

Nigel: Could be worse. Believe me, I know this shit isn’t fun, Yindra, but there are much worse emotional places you could be right now.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - ENTRANCE HALL - DAY

But not everyone is so fortunate. The day of the funeral has arrived, Grace dutifully standing vigil at the door to greet guests as they enter. ERIC MATTHEWS is present as well, taking on the task of helping to hand out programs for the service.

If Grace is feeling mixed emotions about the whole thing, she does a great job of concealing it, passing for grieving but gracious widow with practiced precision.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - BACK HALLWAY - DAY

For as well as she’s doing, Lucas is the opposite. He’s dressed for the part, but the more guests and former friends of Kenneth arrive and file in for the service, the less steady he becomes. He tried to stay cool, to use his typical aloof approach, but it’s failing him. He’s breaking into a cold sweat, and his hands are starting to shake even as he balls them into fists. Guests keep trying to get a glimpse of him around the corner as they shuffle into the main parlor.

Kenneth isn’t there, but it’s also like he’s all around them. All these people here, so mournful and fondly memorializing the man who made his life a living hell.

That, and he’s never been good at being in the spotlight. It’s like he’s suddenly a kid again, the anxiety and stress of the moment hitting him like a ton of bricks just as Grace steps in to check if he’s feeling ready to go into the service.

Lucas, hastily: I’m gonna be sick.

He darts away from the group and stumbles down the hall towards the bathroom. Asher rushes after him without a second thought, Dylan not far behind. But he does double back to offer reassurance to Grace.

Dylan: We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. He’ll be okay.

Even as he says it, he doesn’t sound convinced of it himself. Grace manages a nod, concern in her features, but she isn’t sure what else there is to do. The show must go on, whether they like it or not.

Isa has other ideas. They watch this whole scene unfold, and they know Dylan and Asher aren’t going to be able to cure him. Not this kind of grief; not this level of trauma. It’s going to take a force of nature, one of the only things they’ve ever known that can ground Lucas James Friar.

Ducking around the corner, Isa pulls out their phone.

INT. NYU - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Riley is just finishing up her make-up for Ghost, looking pretty but begrudging as she does the final touches. She’s going through the motions, but today of all days, her heart is just not in it.

So when her phone buzzes with a text on the countertop, it feels like a message from more than just Isa.

“Funeral about to start, Lucas NOT doing well”

“I know ur about to go on, and this might not mean shit, but if I can pull an SOS on his behalf this is going to be the time”

Honestly, hearing it from them is about as crystal clear as it could be. Lucas would never ask Riley to put him first, or tell him how bad it really is when she has something else going on. He wouldn’t do that to her, but Isa can. Isa has no reason to lie, in either direction, and they know Lucas almost as well as Riley.

If they’re sounding the call, then they mean it. Lucas needs her. If there’s any time where he deserves to be put first, this may very well be it.

And Riley knew that. She’s known that the whole time, has felt it in her gut and been dragging her feet along doing what’s expected of her instead this entire time. She knows how important this is, how hard this whole thing is for Lucas, and wants nothing more than to be there with him to survive it. Despite her “professional” obligations, that was never a question for her.

So as she looks at her reflection in the mirror, dolled up for a show and just a step away from being in costume and launching into another rote performance, all she can think is one thing.

What the hell is she doing there?

And just like that, she makes her decision. Riley takes action, removing her mic pack and starting to gather her things. The other girls in the production notice her shift in behavior, none more so than Imogen, who stares at her.

Imogen: Um, what do you think you’re doing? You’re going to be called for places in like two minutes. Riley: Nope, I’m not. You said you studied your lines, right? Well, congratulations, you get the chance to prove it.

Riley marches over and hands her the mic pack.

Riley: You’re on, understudy. Break a leg.

Imogen is so stunned, she for once doesn’t have a pithy remark ready to go. Riley doesn’t wait for one, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. By the time she makes it to the door, one of the other girls manages to speak up.

Cast Member: Where are you going? Riley: I can’t be here. I have to go. [ assertive ] Family emergency.

And she isn’t going to wait for permission. She leaves the ladies in shocked silence, Imogen only rallying when she realizes she is literally going to be onstage leading the show in mere minutes.

INT. NYU - BACKSTAGE HALLWAY - DAY

Riley runs into Evan as he’s on his way to the wings, the two of them twirling around one another. It only takes a second to see that Evan is all dressed for curtain, and Riley is very clearly not.

Evan: Whoa, whoa, where are you going? Stage is that way. [ looking her over ] And aren’t you forgetting something? Riley: I’m not going on. I have to go. Evan: Wait, what? Riley: Don’t worry, Imogen is already getting ready. She’ll be great. And if Hill has questions or blows a gasket, please tell her I’m sorry. I’ll touch base with her tomorrow and explain everything. But I can’t be here right now. Evan, bewildered: But -- Riley: I have to go. Lucas needs me.

That’s all she says. It’s all she has time for. She starts to jog away without further explanation, only pausing when Evan calls after her in disbelief.

Evan: Riley -- ! Riley: I’m sorry, Evan. You’ll be amazing, though, like always. I know it. Break a leg.

She offers him a sincere smile, then dashes down the hall and out of sight. No hesitation to leave him, and their entire production, behind. Evan stares after her, totally dumbstruck.

He’s only pulled out of it when a stagehand pokes their head through the doors, claiming they’re getting into places. With that, the show must go on… but he does look back over his shoulder as he pushes through the doors, still processing that Riley is throwing everything aside like that.

Just because of Lucas.

Rachel, pre-lap: I’m only saying all of this because I care about you. I wouldn’t if I didn’t think it was necessary.

INT. GRACE’S BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Rachel is over at Grace’s, the two of them hanging out in her room. But “hanging out” feels too casual, because based on their posture this evening, they’re not having an easy-breezy conversation. Grace is definitely on defense, Kenneth’s oversized letterman jacket around her shoulders and arms crossed tightly over her chest as Rachel makes her case.

Rachel: But this is getting… I mean, Gracie, this is nuts. Grace: I don’t know what you mean. Rachel: Come on. Since when do you give one solitary shit about Texas A&M? Grace: It’s a great school. There’s no reason not to go there. Rachel: Lots of schools are great schools. But what I know is that until summer, when Kenneth enrolled there, you had never once mentioned it. But now that he’s spent a semester there and is on football scholarship, you suddenly have it as your top choice?

Grace huffs, shuffling uncomfortably.

Rachel: What happened to California? You were talking non-stop about that creative writing program at Berkeley. Hell, I helped you edit your portfolio. You spent so much time on it, and it was fucking good. What happened to all that? Grace: I decided to be realistic. We know I’m not going to get in there. Rachel: No, we do not. Who says? Grace: My parents will be happier with this anyway. Me not going so far away. And I won’t have to leave the horses -- Rachel: Oh my God, Grace, please be serious. You know it’s not about any of that. You know this is about Kenneth, and your codependent as hell relationship. He wants you to stay here with him. Grace: That’s not true.

Only her delivery is far from convincing. So she tries to deflect instead, bristling.

Grace: Is this the only reason you wanted to come over tonight? To grill me from some random high horse you just suddenly adopted? Rather than, I don’t know, hanging out since we haven’t gotten to spend much time together in like, weeks? Rachel: No kidding! You tell me! How do you think it felt to have our English teacher ask me about your college plans, kindly informing me of your apparent decision to go for A&M, when you’re supposed to be my best friend? And gee, I wonder why we haven’t hung out in ages -- maybe because every single millisecond of your free time is spent at A&M glommed onto your bland, cocky boyfriend? Grace: I can’t believe you’re saying all of this to me! As if you weren’t the one who set us up in the first place! As if you didn’t encourage and encourage me to get out there, to give Ken a chance -- Rachel: I just wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to experience things, to get out of your shell. I didn’t expect him to want to date you. Grace: … wow. Okay. Rachel: And then when he did, I thought, okay. Great. This’ll be great for you, a confidence booster. A chance to prove hey, you are so much more than you let yourself believe. And for a while, it was. For a while, I was all for it. But if I had known you two would become inseparable and this borderline toxic, follow-your-man fifties bullshit, I never would’ve done it. Biggest mistake of my life, for real! Grace: Well, sorry to disappoint you. Sorry that I fell in love. Sorry that a boy dared to love me back, and have it mean something. Rachel: [ with an eye roll ] Oh, puh-lease… Grace: Sorry that I’m not also a fucking slut who can’t see any man as longer than a one-time plaything!

Woof. Grace wanted the focus off of her, and she took whatever weapon she had at her disposal -- with massive impact. Rachel blinks, taking the hit hard, staring at her best friend like she doesn’t even recognize her.

Suppose practically swimming in the embrace of Kenneth’s jacket, whoever she knows and loves is hidden away.

But like hell is Rachel going to let her hurt show. She scoffs and blinks back the tears, steeling her expression and holding Grace’s glare.

Rachel: You know, I thought we had it all figured out. I thought you and I were gonna get out of this state, and we were gonna be something. Whatever you wanna call it, I thought we were one in the same. Kindred spirits, or whatever. [ looking her over ] Obviously, I was wrong.

Grace wants to cry, overwhelmed and defensive and terrified of the doubt creeping up her spine at Rachel’s words. She doesn’t understand; she just doesn’t get it. She doesn’t know Kenneth -- not the way she does.

And if she can’t see that, then suppose she doesn’t really know her either.

Grace: Yeah. I guess you were.

Terrific. A tear slips down Rachel’s cheeks, but she doesn’t bother to swipe it away. She isn’t going to give it that much power. Instead, she grits her teeth, making sure to look Grace dead in the eye as she walks away.

Rachel: Good luck, letting Kenneth determine the rest of your life. Hope all that love is worth it. Have a fucking blast at A&M playing shadow.

She whips around and storms out of her room, slamming the door behind her. Grace jumps at the sound, which feels even louder in the empty room she left behind… she wraps herself tighter in the letterman jacket, burrowing deeper into whatever comfort she can glean from it.

Digging into the belief that she’s making the right choice.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Back in the present, Maya is seeking a similar sense of comfort. She’s bundled up in her comforter, using her laptop to look through old videos of her performing. As far back as when she was a kid, less refined yet just as full of bravado and volume, but even as recent as her years at Adams.

She seems so enthusiastic in all of them, filled with the joy of performing regardless of what other bullshit was going on in the meantime. Fairweather friends, abandoning fathers, near-miss suicides -- none of that can touch her when she’s allowed to sing, when she gets to put on a show. When she’s in performer mode, she’s invincible.

It was only a year ago that she was there, but it feels like a lifetime. That easy confidence and instant joy feels so foreign, like her memory has been wiped and she doesn’t know how to access it. It’s been on shaky ground since she came to L.A., and she’s been trading bits of it away in pursuit of whatever it was that was supposed to matter more than anything.

And then in one night, Justin took it all like it was nothing. Just another day in the business.

Maya’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes taking on that uncomfortable teary feeling again. She grits her teeth and shuts her laptop, cutting off her younger self unceremoniously. She climbs out of her blanket cocoon, suddenly feeling suffocated.

As the sultry, melancholic synths ease in…

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “In L.A.” as performed by Fame - The Musical Original Off-Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart

Fittingly, as the certified A class Carmen Diaz, Maya finds herself singing her devastating second-act soliloquy as she wanders the sunlit streets of Los Angeles in a desperate search for fresh air to breathe. Much like the original rendition, Maya has discovered the promises and allure of fame and Hollywood aren’t all that they seemed, even for someone as savvy and strategic as her.

She starts off quiet, unsure, almost like a murmur and distinctly un-Maya. A reflection of how out of sorts she feels, how out of control things are and how removed she feels from her voice.

EXT. ECHO PARK LAKE - DAY

After the first chorus, we arrive in Echo Park for the second verse. Maya walks the pathway around the iconic lake with her head down and arms crossed, on defense even though the joggers, college kids, and dogwalkers are hardly a threat.

After the booze and the coke, the visions of the blue Pacific After the two-hundredth time I told him he was “just terrific”

She makes her way down to the lake, looking into the murky water. Her reflection stares back at her, feeling unfamiliar, just as she starts to recount the things about being here that have left the strongest scars.

I woke up one late afternoon and couldn’t tell quite where I was Leftover taste in my mouth and with a morning after buzz

As she continues, getting deeper into the memories she’s been working for weeks to repress, her voice grows gradually in volume but also frenzy. While her vocals are emotive, they lack their usual discipline. These lines aren’t coming from a well-trained star performer -- they’re slipping out from the scared girl underneath, the one who has rarely needed to sing.

EXT. LOS ANGELES HIGH SCHOOL - DAY

Maya continues her walk, passing by a local high school. She’s basically invisible to the students here, lost in their own worlds, so she has to dodge to avoid being knocked into by a crowd of enthusiastic pals just getting out for the school day.

She looks over her shoulder after them, eyes welling up.

You try to stop the thought from coming but it never ends You think about how far you are from home and friends

She keeps walking, the lyrics becoming more strained as they fight to get out of her -- until she stops still at the end of the block, staring up at a towering advertisement plastered onto the side of one of the office buildings like a billboard.

One of her. One of the last ones she approved with Melissa and Justin before “Haute Stuff” dropped, the single that was never hers to begin with. Where she’s looking perfectly plastic, hot as hell but devoid of substance, the perfect bubblegum pop Barbie doll just begging to be played with.

Maya’s face is full of disgust, an almost visceral revulsion.

Don’t look in the mirror to see what you’ve become!

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

The despair can’t be contained anymore. It practically bleeds out of Maya as she barrels through the remainder of the performance. It’s still unpolished, and raw, and far from her usual level of excellence, but God is it powerful. It’s spilling out of the deepest corners of her soul -- the loss of her ambition, her dreams, her sense of security. Her sense of self.

So smile when they say it’s only a dream And you’ll get what is coming to you

All swept away by the glitz of L.A., where all your dreams come true.

Maya finishes belting out the last blockbuster set of lines…

EXT. LARCHMONT - DAY

Then dwindles into the final lyric as she arrives back outside her building. But she can’t bring herself to go back inside -- there doesn’t feel like a need to. It’s not home. This place can’t be home anymore.

Instead, she leans back against the brick and slides down into a sitting position. As the music peters out, she wraps her arms around her knees and tucks her head against them, smaller than she’s ever been.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

Nigel steps into the coffee shop, surprised when he finds Vanessa waiting by the counter. They exchange awkward smiles, the former questioning what she’s doing there. He doesn’t think of her as a regular here.

Vanessa: Definitely not. But most of my usuals are over by Turner, and right now…

She’s kind of avoiding the place as long as she can hack it until this stupid gala thing is over. One more night! Unfortunately, that means higher risk of running into Zay, but she’ll take that chance.

Nigel: Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Vanessa: So Zay’s telling everyone? Nigel: Actually, not really. He told Riley, and she told Lucas because she tells him everything even though he doesn’t care and probably won’t remember seventy percent of it. But I think Asher was there when she did, which meant it took less than twenty-four hours for Dylan to know, and at that point it becomes kind of impossible to track the thread within our group. Jade told me, for the record, not that it matters. Vanessa: Cool. That’s just swell. Nigel: If it helps, though, I don’t think anyone like… feels any type of way about it. Other than sorry it didn’t work out. As in, we love Zay, but we like you too. It’s just a bummer for everyone.

That is nice to hear, honestly. Part of the biggest anxiety Vanessa was nursing about the whole thing was the loss of the friendships she was starting to make beyond Zay -- which maybe says something in it of itself. She shrugs.

Vanessa: No need to take sides, really. Wasn’t exactly anyone’s fault. It just… didn’t work. Like you said.

But whatever. She’d rather talk about anything else. She changes the subject.

Vanessa: How did talking to your parents about London go? Did you tell them?

Speaking of things we’d rather not talk about… based on how Nigel’s expression dims, and he hesitates, the answer is obviously “not well.” And since Vanessa is one of the only people who knew Nigel was considering it, it seems clear that he hasn’t had the chance to really unpack it with anyone.

After a beat, Vanessa holds up a hand.

Vanessa: First things first. You need coffee.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - BATHROOM - DAY

Asher has talked Lucas back from the ledge, at least enough that he’s no longer crouched in front of the toilet in case he vomits. Lucas splashes cold water on his face while Asher hands him a paper towel.

Asher: Okay? Lucas: Better. [ a lie, but whatever ] I’m sorry. I don’t know -- I’m being so fucking stupid -- Asher: Lucas, it’s fine. Totally understandable. But you’re gonna be fine, too.

Lucas does not look convinced, and still looks a bit ill, but he doesn’t have much of a choice but to pull it together. He just has to get through the next few hours.

Once he’s dabbed his face dry, Asher leads him through one more calming breath. If he has to hold it all afternoon long to survive, so be it.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - BACK HALLWAY - DAY

Dylan is doing his best to reassure Grace that Lucas will be fine, but it’s not going well.

Grace: He didn’t want to do this. I only felt like we should -- if he can’t, then he shouldn’t -- Dylan: He’s going to do his best. He doesn’t want you to do this alone. And we’ll do everything we can to help.

But what if it’s not enough? Grace struggles to express just that, uncertainly stumbling over her words -- like mother, like son -- but Dylan’s outlook brightens significantly moments later when he spots something behind Grace over her shoulder.

Dylan: I think our odds just got a lot better.

Grace turns to look, following his line of sight.

Riley. She made it, just a few steps behind Isa as they lead her back into the hallway where they’ve been taking shelter. She’s changed out of her pre-show clothes and into an elegant semi-formal black dress, while her stage make-up and hair did her the favor of looking polished.

She outpaces Isa once she spots Lucas, finally emerging from the bathroom with Asher. She breezes past Dylan and Grace and rushes to meet him, colliding with him in the middle of the hall. Lucas is genuinely shocked to see her, like he can’t believe his eyes -- but the relief in his voice is palpable.

Lucas: [ voice cracking ] Riley? Riley: Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.

Her touch proves it, the two of them gripping each other’s arms to stay steady. Lucas shakes his head, even more out of breath than before.

Lucas: What -- what are you doing here? Your show -- Riley: Shh, it’s fine. Everything’s handled. You worked in show business long enough, surely you remember what understudies are for? Trust me, mine is thrilled.

Lucas is so overwhelmed, he doesn’t have it in him to argue. And selfishly, the solace of her presence is so immediate, so soothing, he wouldn’t let it go for anything right now. He lets Riley take his shaky hands, squeezing them tightly.

Riley: I’m exactly where I need to be. Now we just have to get through this. Which you will. Lucas: Okay. Yeah, okay. Riley: Just a couple hours. You’ve faced way harder things before. And I’m right here. I’m with you.

There’s nowhere else she’d rather be. Lucas nods, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against hers. Finding the grounding comfort of being close to her just for a moment, before they have to face it for real.

Honestly, Riley’s surprise appearance is a relief to just about everyone. Grace exhales a breath, while Isa smiles to themselves at the fast impact Riley has on Lucas.

Dylan approaches and pats Riley on the shoulders, both as a welcome and a subtle nudge that it’s time to go. The service is about to start. When Lucas steps back from her, he meets Dylan’s eyes, who raises his eyebrows at him.

Ready?

Lucas takes a deep breath, still shaky but holding it together. He looks to Riley again, who gives him a warm smile. He intertwines their hands and grips it like an anchor, then gives Dylan a nod.

Grace leads the way back to the entrance hall, Isa following behind. Then Lucas and Riley, taking the march one step at a time; Dylan and Asher bring up the rear, the former throwing his arm around the latter and hugging him close.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Another quiet morning at the office. No sign of Justin or Melissa, but that’s not out of the ordinary. It’s just Josh, the other assistants typing away, and his thoughts.

Still no Maya. At this point, he wonders if she’s ever going to come back. Did he make it weird with his voicemail, and now she’s avoiding him? Did he overstep? Or worse, is she having doubts? Given the direction Melissa and Justin are taking her, putting her in a plastic shoebox of bland pop, he can’t say he’d blame her if she was.

So maybe it’s worth it to speak his truth. At least give her the ammunition to take her work further, the stuff that’s already good, even if he doesn’t get his name on the credits. Not like it would be the first time…

But if it helps her do more of her own stuff, showing her true range, then that’s worth it. That’s a legacy he’d want his fingerprints on, invisible as they may or may not be. Maybe she just needs a little bit of feedback or encouragement, since Justin and Melissa are clearly so busy spread across other clients. Whether she includes him, or ever speaks to him again, so be it.

As long as she keeps making killer music, he can live with that.

Before he can second-guess his instincts, Josh pulls up his drafts and opens the notes email to Maya, crafting a new leading message.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Maya has at least managed to stay out of bed, hair still unkempt and far from her stylish best. She’s at her desk, struggling to force herself to eat so as to not make her lingering perpetual nausea any worse.

She’s hesitant when her phone lights up on her nightstand, not sure she wants to see who it is. What a grim change of pace, considering she used to get a burst of energy every time a new opportunity could potentially be gracing her phone. Now, she finds herself dreading what she may have to stuff down and avoid.

When she sees it’s from Josh, at first she’s wary, but then she sees the subject line. “Demo Notes.”

Curiosity winning out, she opens the email and gets to her feet, anxiously pacing as she reads through it.

“Hey,

If I made things weird again somehow, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you this when I caught you in the office, but I haven’t managed to see you recently. Anyway, I listened to your demos, and they’re really good. There’s some serious stuff here. At the risk of being an arrogant asshole and overstepping again, I jotted down some thoughts I had while listening.

If you wanna do anything with them, by all means, go for it. A peace offering.

See you soon?”

Josh wasn’t kidding. He took time with these notes, evidently having deeply listened and thought about her demos. He took the time to listen at all, which is more than she’s been getting the last few months.

More than that, he’s talking to her. Just her. No mention of Justin, or Melissa -- and based on what she knows about him, his intentions are legit. He’s pathetically awkward, and a terrible actor. If he was trying to fish for his bosses, that would come through no matter how hard he tried.

He’s reaching out because he cares.

Struck with a sense of urgency, the overwhelming desire not to be trapped in isolation anymore, Maya finds herself frantically opening her text messages.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Whatever he was expecting after his olive branch, Josh is not anticipating such a fast response. He’s surprised when his phone buzzes within minutes, even more so when Maya’s contact lights up his screen. He opens it immediately, sitting up straighter.

“Lunch today?”

Josh stares at the message, then glances over his shoulder towards Justin and Melissa’s office. No one’s around to see…

He starts to type his reply.

Nigel, pre-lap: To be fair, I don’t know what I was expecting.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

He and Vanessa have taken a table in the corner, and Nigel has just finished giving her the rundown of how unideal his pitch to his parents went.

Vanessa: Ouch. Yeah… I can imagine the comment about Zay was a deep cut. Nigel: Definitely wasn’t my favorite critical commentary to receive, no. Unfortunately, that’s a common casualty of being his friend. Vanessa: Oh, even with my comparatively brief experience, I got that. Nigel: It’s not like it’s intentional or anything. And like I said, I had to adjust to that fast. I don’t hold it against him. But… sometimes it sucks. Constantly being in someone’s shadow. Especially when you love them. Vanessa: Mm. It’s that bigass head of his. It’s really good at soaking up all the sunshine.

Sorry, he can’t help it that he’s so legendary! Anyway, they’d both rather not focus on that angle of it, so it’s easy enough to push past it. Vanessa redirects to the actual core of the issue rather than the details of what was said -- his parents. Nigel nods.

Nigel: But yeah. Obviously did not go how I hoped. In fact, I can’t imagine how it could’ve gone any worse. Vanessa: Oh, come on, don’t say that. They could’ve disowned you, or threatened to pull you out of school entirely. It can always be worse. Nigel: That’s very comforting and inspiring, thank you. Vanessa: That’s what I’m here for. Master of emotional warm and fuzzies, didn’t you know this about me?

Nigel can’t help but smile at that, albeit weakly. He may not know Vanessa that well, all things considered, but he at least knows that much is a heaping dose of sarcasm. Then he shrugs.

Nigel: I don’t know. I guess I just thought… I mean, it’s not like my parents are hardcore art lovers. My dad is into lit and stuff, but… they’ve always been chill about the acting thing. So I guess some part of me just though, okay, they’ll have to think about it some, but they’ll be cool with it. They’ll want me to be happy. And their reaction was just so… not that. Vanessa: Not what you anticipated. Nigel: No. So maybe that was my mistake. I set myself up from the start. Vanessa: It’s nice you even had that illusion, though. That speaks more highly of them than you realize. Me, I know any time I bring up my “dreams” or whatever, I’m guaranteed to get an eye roll from my parents, if not an earful about it. Nigel: Yikes. Sorry. Vanessa: Yeah, my pops is not a fan of the dance thing. To say the least. Suffice to say, I get unsupportive parents. [ a beat ] I just wonder if that’s actually what’s going on.

Nigel raises his eyebrows. Skeptical, but also hoping she has something impactful to say. That there’s any way to change the gloom that’s settled over them.

Nigel: I’m listening. Vanessa: Like, don’t take my word for it, since I’m just extrapolating. I wasn’t there, you were, and I don’t really know you like that to get all psychoanalytical on your family. But… I mean, you said just now that you figured they’d have to think about it, even if they were gonna have a good reaction. Nigel: Yeah… Vanessa: Part of you clearly knows that they weren’t going to be all rosy and happy about it right off the bat. You just got lost in the heat of the moment, in the pressure of saying it at all, that you forgot to keep some of your armor on. Because trust me, I know, if you’re not properly suited up, rejection hurts like a motherfucker. It totally blindsides you, makes any other sort of logical thought in the moment impossible.

There’s a reason she’s so guarded, as a general rule. Feels safer that way, albeit lonelier. And that’s not what she’s suggesting Nigel emulate, but looking back, she’s just trying to find where he left room for expectations to fall so short of reality.

Vanessa: Like, if you knew it was gonna take some time, how are things now? What does your mom think now? Nigel: … I don’t know. We haven’t said much to each other about it. [ a beat ] About anything, really, lately.

That’s a feeling Vanessa knows too. She gives him a sympathetic look.

Vanessa: Remember that I don’t know your business, so take this with a grain of salt. But I think it might be worth talking to them about it one more time. They’ve had time, so give them the chance to say their piece now. Nigel: I wouldn’t even know what to say. Vanessa: You don’t have to say anything. This time, they have to speak up. All you have to do is listen, and decide for yourself if you can vibe with it. Wherever they’ve landed. Just go into it with your eyes wide open and armor well fitted this time.

It wouldn’t be worth it with her parents, since they’ve been a lost cause for ages now. But she doesn’t get the sense Nigel’s family is the same way. It’s not going to be comfortable, or maybe end up perfectly tied up with a bow, but better to give it one last shot than accept a fate of fractured trust for the rest of his life.

Speaking of complicated families…

INT. GRACE’S BATHROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Months have passed, now placing us firmly in Grace’s freshman year of college. Winter break to be exact, so it has already been a full semester of collegiate activity and fun.

Perhaps a little too much fun. Grace is pale and grim as she paces the tiny bathroom in her childhood home, now wrapped in a cozy crewneck from Texas A&M University. But no matter how comfortable it may be, it can’t insulate her from the reality blow she’s about to receive.

She checks her wristwatch, then reluctantly reaches towards the sink and retrieves a small piece of plastic. A pregnancy test.

A pregnancy test that reads positive.

Grace would be sick, if she was capable of feeling anything at all. She’s numb from shock, staring down at the test with a blank expression and absolutely no idea what to do.

Kenneth, pre-lap: What the hell is going on, Grace?

INT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - STABLES - FLASHBACK - DAY

It’s the last few days of winter break, and the world outside the wooden shell of the barn is frigid cold, even for Texas. Grace is bundled up in a coat as she cares for the horses that afternoon, using all of her focus to tend to them and have every excuse not to look at her boyfriend.

Kenneth is less bundled up, only sporting a sweatshirt from A&M -- he’s always ran hot. And he’s feeling especially so right now, frustration bubbling up as he tries to get Grace to speak to him. For whatever reason, she’s just started icing him out, and he has no clue why.

A fact that evidently does not please him. It makes him angrier to have her do it right in front of him, for him to be addressing her and her to go on as if he’s not even there.

Kenneth: You’re seriously not going to talk to me? You’re fucking pissed at me, and you won’t even have the decency to tell me why? Grace, quietly: I’m not mad at you. Kenneth: Then what the hell is wrong with you? Grace: Nothing. I’m fine.

Bullshit. But at least she’s finally biting. Kenneth doesn’t let it go, stepping closer.

Kenneth: You haven’t talked to me since Christmas Eve. You won’t take my calls. Seriously, what did I do that’s so terrible? [ with a huff ] And if you’re gonna dump me, is this really how you’re gonna do it? You ain’t even gonna look me in the eyes and tell me to fuck off? Grace: I don’t want to dump you. Kenneth: You know what you do to me, don’t you? You drive me crazy. It makes me crazy, how much I love you. I can’t deal when things are like this -- when you’re a thousand miles away. I want you -- I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.

Grace wants to. Part of her does, but the rest of her that’s gripped with fear is stronger. So she stays silent, making sure Judy gets her fill of oats.

Once again rebuffed, and not understanding why, Kenneth snaps.

Kenneth: Jesus, Grace! This is ridiculous. [ a beat ] You found someone else. You found another guy, didn’t you? Grace: What? No. That’s -- Kenneth: I saw the way Jake was looking at you at the finals party. I swear, he is always trying to step on my shit. He’s mad he’s not quarterback, and then he sees that I’ve got the most beautiful girl on campus, and he just -- but he succeeded, didn’t he? He got what he wanted. Grace: No, Ken. Kenneth: Then why won’t you talk to me? Why can’t you look me in the eyes and say it to my face? [ impatient ] Grace --

He marches forward and takes her arm, tugging her in his direction to face him. She recoils and slips from his grasp, putting a few paces between them. But he manages to yank the truth out of her anyway.

Kenneth: Why can’t you just -- Grace: I’m pregnant!

The stable goes silent. Kenneth stares at her, dumbstruck; Grace can’t stare at him, dropping her humiliated gaze to the floor.

Kenneth: What? Grace: You wanted to know. That’s it. I’m pregnant.

She can say it all she wants, it won’t make it any easier to process. Kenneth shakes his head lightly, as if that’ll make the bomb un-detonate. When he manages to speak, it’s in a stunned murmur.

Kenneth: Are you serious? Grace: Yes. Kenneth: How long have you known? When did you -- ? Grace: Last week. [ a beat ] My period didn’t come. During Christmas. Kenneth: Fu -- you’re sure? Grace: [ resisting the urge to snap ] Yeah, I’m pretty sure.

Kenneth chokes out an exhale, spinning away from her and pressing his hands behind his head. He screws his eyes shut, fighting the wave of panic washing over him. Grace watches his every move, uncertain…

Then he knots his hands in his hair, letting out a profound cuss.

Kenneth: Holy shit!

Yeah, sounds about right. Grace makes herself smaller, crossing her arms.

Grace: Yeah. I know. Kenneth: Fuck. How the fuck did this happen? We didn’t -- we always use protection -- Grace: I know. I don’t know. Kenneth: What the hell are we going to do? [ turning to face her ] What did you do wrong?

Um, excuse me? Grace scowls, cheeks flushing.

Grace: What did I do? Um, I think you would know. Kenneth: Yeah, but -- but I wear a condom. I used protection. Grace: Well, it didn’t fucking work. Kenneth: Don’t talk to me like that. [ stammering ] You could’ve -- I kept telling you to get on the pill -- Grace: And I told you exactly why I couldn’t. You think my parents would ever let me do that? My dad still pretends to get out the shotgun every time you come over. And I could never do it behind their backs, I’m still on their insurance. Kenneth: There were ways. We could’ve gotten it -- Grace: Not safe ways. I said all this, and told you all this, but you said it was okay. You wanted to do it anyway. Kenneth: Because I love you! Because I wanted to be with my girl! I didn’t think --

No one ever thinks it’s going to happen to them until it does. Yet, here they are, party of two and counting.

For now, at least.

Kenneth: And what, were you just never going to tell me? If I hadn’t marched over here and made you talk, what were you gonna do then? [ rubbing his temples ] God, what are we gonna do now? Grace: Take care of it.

She says it calmly, despite the quiver in her voice. Like she’s already made up her mind. Kenneth locks eyes with her, absorbing that… and realizing what she’s implying.

Kenneth: Are you crazy? You can’t do that. Grace: I already figured out how. There’s a Planned Parenthood in Austin. I’ll go on the drive back to A&M, since it’s on the way. Kenneth: You -- you can’t. You cannot fucking do that. Do you hear what you’re saying? Grace: I don’t have any other choice. Kenneth: Any other choice than murder? How are you going to live with that? And -- fuck, what if people find out? Grace, shaky: They won’t. Kenneth: What if our parents find out? Grace, my parents will fucking murder me if they learn you got an abortion. If you killed -- Grace: Well, what’s the alternative?! Please, enlighten me, Ken. Show me what better choice there is, because I’m one-hundred percent sure you’re not ready to be a father.

Damn right, but that doesn’t help the stress at all. Kenneth presses his palms to his eyes, but the room keeps spinning anyway.

Kenneth: It’s all over. My life is over. This is going to fuck up everything. Grace: Exactly. I don’t want that to happen. That’s why I’m going to take care of it. Kenneth: No. No, Grace, you can’t. You can’t do this to -- to our -- Grace: To our what? You’re not the one who’s going to have to carry it. You realize that, right?

Kenneth passes her as he frantically paces, palms sweaty and feeling light-headed. Grace is tearing up.

Grace: I get that it’s fucked up. I get that I’m going to have to live with it for the rest of my life. But what’s the alternative, Ken? Be serious. I’m nineteen. I don’t want to be a mom -- I don’t want a fucking baby!

And they both know Kenneth doesn’t want one either, despite what Southern societal pressures might be weighing on their shoulders. So she’s going to do something about it, before both of them end up in a situation they know they’ll regret.

Still, the dread of the implications behind her choice is so visceral it’s near paralyzing. It keeps Kenneth fighting back even when he doesn’t know what for, when the other choice he’s indirectly advocating for is also a dead-end.

Kenneth: Grace, don’t do this. Listen to me. You cannot do this -- Grace: Sorry, but I don’t think it’s actually your choice.

In an instant, under enormous stress, something in Kenneth snaps.

Kenneth: Like hell it’s my fucking choice! It’s my baby!

Grace stares at him, bewildered at his outburst. She doesn’t understand why he’s fighting so hard, when she knows logically the alternative will be worse for both of them. What is he holding on so tightly for?

Grace: I’m doing this for both of us. You don’t want this, Ken. Neither do I. Kenneth: You don’t get to tell me what I want or don’t want. And you’re not going to send us both to Hell for your selfish choice. I’m not letting you take me down with you. Grace: What are you even talking about? Do you hear yourself?! Kenneth: You aren’t fucking listening to me. Grace: You can’t really think -- Kenneth: Goddamn it, Grace, would you just fucking LISTEN TO ME?

In a fit of rage, Kenneth reaches out for the first thing he can grab, ripping it off the wall and throwing it as hard as he can. It flies past Grace, causing her to duck away, and crashes against the door of one of the horse stalls, shattering into dozens of pieces.

Once Grace regains her bearings, she looks over at where the object landed, expression riddled with horror.

Her horseshoe. One of her most prized possessions, now shattered into oblivion across the ground.

Kenneth threw it away like it was nothing. Like it held no importance -- or maybe precisely because it did. It’s impossible to tell, especially now that the heat of the moment has passed and he looks as mortified as she does. He meets her eyes.

Kenneth: Grace. I’m sorry.

She can’t look away from him, heart pounding, even as she starts to back away. When he tries to close the distance between them, she scrambles further apart.

Kenneth: Let’s just talk about this --

Then she’s running. Full speed, down the slope of the stables and out into the cold embrace of the farmland in winter. Kenneth curses, stumbling after her.

Kenneth: Grace. GRACE!

He huffs out another “fuck” and kicks at the nearest beam, causing the horses to bray in fear.

EXT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - FLASHBACK - DAY

Grace runs as fast as her legs will carry her, not daring to look back. Not even sure what she’s running from after a certain point, but positive from the fear in her bones and the desperation coursing through her veins that she has to get away.

She blinks back any tears that surface, allowing the brisk winter chill to dry them away.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - MONTAGE - DAY

Grace’s eyes remain dry in the present, expression skillfully schooled and delicately somber as the funeral gets underway. A brief montage reflects the passage of the afternoon into evening, Christian rites being done in honor of Kenneth’s extended family.

Interwoven throughout, guests of all sorts give little voluntary speeches at the podium. Gushing about how much they loved Kenneth Friar, what a guiding light and stalwart force he was in their communities. Filled with genuine grief, full of fond reminiscent memories to share.

Grace and Lucas remain quiet. They let everyone else fill the time, listening silently but not willing -- or able -- to step up and share any memories of their own. For now, this absence goes unnoticed.

Lucas continues to look a bit nauseous, particularly every time young men from the Quincy football team praise Kenneth for his paternal wisdom and support. But he gets through it. He remains steady, surviving the bulk of the funeral without incident.

In no small part thanks to Riley, who stays faithful by his side the entire time. He keeps his hand locked with hers, using it as an anchor to ground him to the present.

EXT. NORTH HOLLYWOOD PARK - DAY

Josh’s hands are interlocked with his own, fingers twisting anxiously as he paces the park in his neighborhood. He’s waiting by a bench where he agreed to meet up with Maya, rehearsing what he thinks he’ll need to say in his head to make his case about her artistic direction before convincing himself he’s being an idiot and scrapping it out loud.

He’s saved from his own spiral when Maya arrives, making her way down the sidewalk towards him. He tells himself to pull it together and not at least act like a freak when she’s in front of him, managing to conjure up a somewhat convincing laid-back smile as she approaches.

Maya is about as stable, far from her usual starry sheen. She’s gone to the effort to dress closer to her usual style rather than sweatpants, but it’s still leagues from her standard. The only reason Josh doesn’t notice is because he’s too caught up in his own head.

Josh: Hi. Hey. Maya: Hi. Thanks for agreeing to meet here.

Instead of in Hollywood near Global Beat, which is where Josh initially assumed they’d get together. But Maya very quickly made it clear she did not want to be in that neighborhood. Considering she’s willing to chat with him at all, he was happy to oblige.

Josh: No worries. It’s my scene over here, after all, so. No biggie. Maya: Right.

Right… well. Now that they’re both there… Josh’s mental gymnastics does him no good, because he stumbles into the conversation about as haphazardly as one could.

Josh: So. Your demos. I know I probably overstepped and rubbed my big, egotistical producer hands all over it, so I’m more than open to hearing your clapbacks. If we argue about it and do nothing else, that’s all good. I just wanted to make sure you at least saw my thoughts. [ off her silence ] Just ‘cause -- like I said, they’re good. You’ve really got something beyond just like, “Haute Stuff,” you know? I figured if you saw that I put in the effort, you’d get that they’re worth --

Maya’s silence becomes more understandable the longer he rambles. It was defensive, the last ditch fight to keep it together, because the moment sound does escape her it’s certainly not confident clapping back.

In an instant, she’s crying. And once she starts, then it’s even worse, because the utter mortification of crying in front of anyone, Josh Matthews especially, is damning enough. She brings a hand up to her face to try to hide it, to cover it any way she can, but it’s no use.

Josh blinks, totally caught off-guard. What the hell did he say? What could he have possibly done if Maya is tearing up? He’s horrible with comforting people as it is, particularly criers, and now he’s gone and made this niece-shaped frenemy turn on the waterworks.

Josh: Shit. Are you -- I’m sorry, whatever I did --

Maya shakes her head. It’s not him. God, based on what he just said, he could not be further from the problem.

Then she’s sobbing, closing the space between them and pulling him into a hug.

Josh has no idea what’s going on. He has no idea what to do, or how a lunch meeting went south so quickly, or how on Earth he ended up with Maya Hart crying into his sweater and holding onto his torso like a life preserver. There is no version of reality where he would’ve predicted this is how things would go.

But what he does know is Maya needs him. If she of all people is broken down this badly, showing her cards so easily, it has to be for good reason. And he knows if Riley were in a situation like that, he’d want her to be in the best, safest company she could find.

So that’s all there is to do. That’s all that matters. Josh opts to put the music aside, rolling with the punches and doing his best to comfort her in spite of the awkwardness. He lightly returns the hug and pats her back.

Josh: Hey. Hey… it’s gonna be okay. You’re good. It’s okay.

He really has no idea. Maya hugs tighter and only cries harder.

The two of them are just another everyday spectacle, lost in the land that made a business out of it.

END OF PART 1.

[ ← Last (Part 1, half 1) ] [ 411 Hub ] [ Next (Part 2, half 1) → ]

#411

0 notes

ambitionsource · 2 years ago

Text

AMBITION “Living Memory” [ 4.11 ]♮PART 2, half 1

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY

Yindra is apprehensive when she receives an invitation of her own. Aleena has texted her, suggesting they meet up for coffee to discuss.

Is she going to forfeit, or corner Yindra into backing down?

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

Back from class, Nigel is at his desk on his computer. He’s still lingering on the UK school webpages, so he clearly hasn’t let go of the idea in spite of the friction. It all depends on whether he can find some bridge between his dreams and the reality of his parents…

LEONA CHEY pokes her head into his doorway, reading over his shoulder. She startles him when she speaks.

Leona: So, are you still gonna try to hop continents, or -- Nigel: God -- hell, Leona. Don’t scare me like that. Leona: [ not sorry ] You’re still looking at the websites. Nigel: I’m still looking at a lot of things. Nothing’s been decided. Leona: Okay then. [ a beat ] Does that mean you’re done being all grumpy now too? Nigel: [ rolling his eyes ] Also undecided. You’re not helping the case for it.

Wah wah. Leona makes a face, sneering and starting to walk away. But she seems to think better of it, turning around and offering one more comment.

Leona: I think you could do it, by the way. Nigel, surprised: What? Leona: I think you’re good enough. To go be a British actor or whatever. And it would be pretty cool. [ a beat ] Plus it would get you thousands of miles away from here, which is the biggest victory of all.

Petty teenager swipe aside, the compliment is sincere. Sincere, and absolutely unexpected coming from his bratty sister. If she’s willing to say it, to drop her aloof facade and give it to him straight, then she must really mean it. And it must be important enough to vocalize it.

So even though she leaves it on that less-than-kind note, Nigel finds himself smiling after she’s disappeared from his doorframe.

Maybe there’s still hope for this yet…

INT. GRACE’S DORM ROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Grace is back at her dorm for spring semester, having unpacked and survived the first couple of days of classes. There’s a new heaviness to her expression that seems permanently etched in though, try as she might to soften it with make-up and her pleasant Southern belle smile.

While she’s chatting with her roommate that evening -- more like letting her roommate ramble while she says nothing and nods along -- they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Grace shrugs, indicating she wasn’t expecting anyone.

But it’s for her. When the roommate pulls open the door, Kenneth is on the other side, slightly sheepish but eyes shining when he sees Grace again. He offers the roommate a smile as charming as ever, before turning a more tempered one towards Grace.

Kenneth: Hey. Grace: … hi.

The roommate looks back and forth between them, then declares she’s going to the lounge to see who else is around. She’ll give them space to talk. Grace looks as though she isn’t sure she wants that or not, but before either of them know it, they’re alone.

Kenneth: Can we? Talk?

Grace clasps her hands together in front of her, feeling an edge of nervousness that she never felt around him before. But she nods.

He steps into the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Grace eyes him uncertainly.

Kenneth: I’m sorry I couldn’t catch you before we got back to school. I tried.

Sort of by design, Kenneth. Grace says nothing.

Kenneth: Uh, I brought you a little something. I know it won’t make up for what happened, but…

He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a trinket and holding it out for Grace to take. She does, delicately, letting the chain pool into her palm.

Her horseshoe. Well, a piece of it, anyway. One shard of the marble blue artwork, now encased forever as the jewel on the end of a silver necklace.

Grace: Oh… Kenneth: I salvaged what I could. Tried to find the best piece of it -- I went with this bit, because it reminds me of your eyes. My mama knows a friend who does jewelry design as a part-time gig, so she was able to put this together for me. Grace: Oh. Thanks.

Her short answers don’t do justice to how hard this hits. How much it means to her, that he picked up the broken pieces and still gave her something to hold onto in spite of it. He tried.

Kenneth: I’m so sorry about how it all went down, Grace. Really, I am. I didn’t… I didn’t handle myself right. I was just so caught by surprise, and it was all too much -- but I never meant to hurt you. All I want to do is make this work, to do right by you.

Grace keeps her eyes on the necklace, rubbing her thumb over the ornament. With her head down, she has a better chance of concealing the way her eyes are welling up.

Kenneth: I can’t lose you. I love you, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you. Anything. If that means… if it means starting our family, getting a jumpstart early, or… or helping with the aftermath of… of what you needed to do, then -- Grace: I didn’t get the procedure.

Kenneth pauses, holding his breath. Is she serious? Grace seems much more burdened by this news than him, choking on it as she admits it.

Grace: I couldn’t go through with it. I was -- I was too chicken.

Not alone, at least. If he had been there to assure her it would be okay, to hold her hand, then maybe… but she couldn’t stomach it on her own.

So their fate hasn’t been settled either way just yet. If he means what he says, and he’s willing to do anything, then the world is really theirs to decide how to face. If he can be there for her and accompany her to the clinic, then they can end this rabbit hole before it even really starts -- or goes any further than it already has.

But that’s not the route Kenneth seems intent on taking. He seems relieved by her confession, lightly taking her arms.

Kenneth: That’s okay. Darlin’, that’s great. Grace: [ voice cracking ] How? How is it remotely great? Kenneth: Because I knew that wasn’t the kind of girl you are. Your heart is too big for that. You wouldn’t turn your back on us like that. Grace: Us?

Kenneth hesitates… then nods, the slightest edge of excitement in his voice.

Kenneth: I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve thought about it a lot. The whole drive back here, before I got to you, I kept thinking about how it could all go down… and Grace, call me fucking crazy, but I think we can do it. We could really be something.

Grace stares at him, bewildered but slightly mesmerized by his impassioned delivery. He can’t be serious.

Oh, but he is. He makes his grand appeal, raising his hands to cup her face.

Kenneth: I love you so much. You are my whole world, the only thing I’ve ever gotten right. So maybe… maybe this is a sign. You know? Maybe this is how it’s meant to be. God just ushered it all along a bit faster than expected. Grace: Are you serious? Kenneth: So we start our future a little earlier than expected. Fine. Bring it on. [ to her stomach ] Bring it on, baby, whatever you’ve got.

Grace laughs incredulously, overwhelmed and feeling slightly delirious. Is he saying what she thinks he’s saying, really and truly? Is this happening?

Kenneth: I can’t live without you. And if this is part of the package, then I’m all in. Grace Kinsley, I want to be your family. I want to have your family. I want you to be mine forever. [ breathless ] Marry me. Please, marry me.

It’s dizzying. Like she’s back in a dream again. But Kenneth is holding her close, looking at her with those damn eyes, and he clearly means every word he’s saying right now. He believes they can do this. He wants her. Even if she isn’t convinced she can, or that it’s what she wants, can’t that be enough?

If they do it together, who knows, maybe they’ll get it right after all.

So she nods, tearing up for too many reasons now as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Grace: Okay. Kenneth: Okay? Grace: Okay. Yeah. I’ll marry you.

Kenneth grins, and Grace absolutely melts. He scoops her up into a hug and spins her around, before they fall into a heated, emotional kiss.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - CEREMONY HALL - DAY

In the present, that necklace is still around Grace’s neck, all these years later. She listens plaintively in her seat in the front row as a mourner, one of Kenneth’s colleagues, gives a tearful speech to how beloved he was and what a great man he was.

Mourner: A true role model to us all. He will be missed.

Amen… or whatever… as he steps down from the podium, the funeral director returns to it, thanking him for his heartfelt words. As it stands, he was the last planned speaker in the program, so in theory, they should be wrapping up the ceremony very shortly.

From his seat next to Grace, Lucas focuses on his breathing, keeping his eyes to the floor. Riley gives him a gentle smile, placing her hand over his on his knee. Almost there…

Only not quite. Because the funeral director, seemingly so in tune with how everyone is feeling, suggests one more set of words. He looks to the front row at Grace and Lucas, asking in front of everyone if they’d like the chance to say a few words. After hearing all the wonderful things other people said, surely there is some final say they’d like to share before they lay the good man to rest?

This clearly was not discussed beforehand, and neither Lucas nor Grace are prepared. Let alone to be addressed so publicly, with all eyes on them. From their seats further back, JACK HUNTER and Eric exchange a tense look -- one that Dylan and Asher almost mirror exactly in the row behind them.

Lucas’s one advantage here is that given he is presumed to be the grieving, albeit troubled, son, there’s a plausible reason for the way he totally clams up. Panic consumes him at the mere thought of having to speak on his father, eyes glossing over and hand clamping tighter on Riley’s. He’s frozen like prey.

Grace sees this, how he’s basically shutting down next to her. She sees his fear, and even though she too would love to escape this afternoon without having to touch her complex feelings on her late husband, she finds herself opening her mouth.

Grace: I can speak.

She’s answering the director’s question, but her eyes are on Lucas. He lifts his gaze to look at her, stunned by her volunteering, but she keeps her expression even. It’s a reassurance as much as an agreement, a promise to him that she can take the pressure this time.

So she follows through, clearing her throat and getting to her feet. She exchanges an awkward smile with the director, who cedes the podium to her with condescending delight that she’s decided to speak. Guess this is who you end up with when you plan stuff so last minute…

Grace: Kenneth… Kenneth was…

Grace takes a deep breath, willing herself to be brave as she looks out at the crowd. Dozens of people, all assembled even with short notice, to grieve the man she’s supposed to love. That she did love, even when it was complicated, in spite of how she probably shouldn’t have. The love she stopped speaking about years ago, by choice and by suggestion, because it had just become too twisted to verbalize.

Now, she has no choice. If this is her last form of penance, so be it.

Grace: Kenneth Friar was a force unto himself.

A vague sentiment loaded with truths, the depths of which most people there will never comprehend. This is how Grace chooses to proceed, keeping it simple for the masses.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “See I’m Smiling” as performed by The Last Five Years Original Off-Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

In her memory, and her heart, it’s another story. Her words in the present fade away as we drift back in time, the delicate piano intro kicking up…

INT. FRIAR HOME - GUEST BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - DAY

The performance serves as a montage, showing us glimpses of the partnership Grace and Kenneth thought they were forming. Once they decided to commit, to embark on the journey of building their unexpected family.

At first, it started with hopeful optimism. Grace has moved in full-time to Kenneth’s parents home, taking up occupancy in the guest bedroom after her parents kicked her out. They’re not pictured in the wedding photo she has hanging over her bed, though she looks lovely and believably pleased to be Kenneth’s bride.

And for now, that is true. She looks exhausted as she sits on her bed folding laundry, having dropped out of A&M to focus on this new life she’s chosen. It’s tiring, and sometimes depressing, but then she looks over at Kenneth -- who is around right now from school, currently trying to cheer up a sobbing infant Lucas as he holds him in his arms and bounces him around.

Apparently, Kenneth wasn’t lying about how he cried all the time. But here, at the start, he’s taking it in stride. He shakes his head at his relentless crying and then gives Grace a sheepish grin, shrugging.

Grace returns it. The baby wasn’t something she asked for, but as long as he’s doing it with her, maybe she can learn to love it. She already knows she loves him.

See I’m smiling That means I’m happy that you’re here

INT. USC - THEATER - NIGHT

At the same time, the montage is intercut with the present, where Farkle is performing the song as Cathy on stage. Now that he’s experienced a complicated relationship of his own, he delivers the rollercoaster of emotion with even more oomph. The hopeful start, the denialism, the slow descent into frustration and despair… it’s so palpable for him, you almost wish you’d see a less visceral performance so he could’ve been spared the knowledge.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - DAY

We see the transition in a couple of years from Texas to New York, Kenneth having gotten a job there a couple years out of college. The move is chaotic but taken with good intentions, both of them hoping the change of scenery will help solidify their faltering family dynamic. Tension and spats have become more and more frequent, but maybe being away from Kenneth’s parents will help that. Maybe Grace will have time to go back to school. Who knows?

Grace tries to keep this perspective as she stands in the center of their new, empty apartment -- in better shape then than the dinged-up version we know now -- holding a toddler Lucas in her arms who doesn’t seem pleased to be there.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - FLASHBACK - DAY

But things are already looking up. Kenneth seems energized by the change of pace, excited about his new job, and in much better spirits. He makes Grace laugh as they take one of their first walks through Central Park together, Kenneth wearing Lucas like a backpack on his back.

As if he’s not even there, really -- extra weight. With that detail out of sight, it’s like they can pretend things are less complicated. Grace beams as Kenneth eagerly tells her about his new role.

And you’re mine We’re doing fine

INT. USC - THEATER - NIGHT

Farkle takes the focus for the next verse at around 2:00, reflecting that nature to assume the problem is with him rather than the partner. Trying to convince himself that things will work out, that with a little extra effort, it’ll all come together how he wants.

Which also gives us the chance to see his facial expression as he conveys that facade crumbling. When he realizes that Jamie has to “go so soon,” and maybe things aren’t going to change. He tries to brush it off, finding the dull silver lining left…

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Which Grace is also trying to do as the weeks drag on, and she finds herself feeling more alone than ever. Kenneth is spending more time escaping through work rather than being at home with them, and she’s stuck taking care of Lucas. It’s hard not to feel terribly alone, cramped in the small room they’ve converted into a nursery, a barely-twenty-something woman in a city where she has no connections but her husband who can’t ever seem to be around.

Still, she tries to convince herself it’ll work. It’s going to work. She swipes the tears from her cheeks and forces a smile, giving it to a drowsy Lucas dozing in his crib even if it’s entirely hollow.

It won’t last. As the tone of the piano takes on a harder edge --

INT. USC - THEATER - NIGHT

Farkle embodies this loss of patience, reaching his breaking point as Cathy and musically breaking into argument with Jamie.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

At the same time, Grace has reached a breaking point with Kenneth, cornering him one of the few times he’s home at a reasonable hour to call him on his bullshit. Wondering why they’re always having the same arguments, why he can’t seem to commit to the changes he claims he’ll make, when the only reason they’re in this situation is because Kenneth claimed he wanted it.

You could be here with me or be there with them As usual guess which you pick!

Kenneth, of course, is on defense, claiming Grace is always on his ass and never gives him a break. Someone has to keep them afloat financially, since she’s a dropout and they can barely afford this shitty apartment as it is. This argument feels more volatile than usual, with all the extra pressure, as we see in flashes of their fight. Both of them are raising their voices, reaching the end of their rope.

INT. USC - THEATER - NIGHT

Throughout, the cuts between the past and the present start to feel suffocating, erratic and at the same fever pitch as the fights they’re depicting. However, certain lines belong squarely to Farkle, such as “you could stay with your wife on her fucking birthday” and the increasing sense of hysteria as he emphasizes how selfish Jamie is.

You, and you, and nothing but you, Marvelous novelist you, Isn’t he wonderful, just twenty-eight, the savior of writing?!

Then we’re back to fierce intercuts, each argument reaching it’s climax -- all the more intense with Farkle’s one-of-a-kind theatrical belting…

En route to sky And I -- !

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Until everything comes to an abrupt, screeching halt when Kenneth hits Grace, smacking her hard across the face with enough force to send her stumbling.

For a moment, it’s silent. Dead silent as Grace crumbles to the floor, the surrealism and horror of what just happened for the first time echoing with resounding impact.

Grace seems to absorb it in slow motion, bringing a hand up to tenderly cup her cheek as the piano cautiously reenters the soundscape.

INT. USC - THEATER - NIGHT

We’re back with Farkle as he takes the last shaky verse, allowed to be more emotive on the stage than Grace ever could be in reality. He stammers through the final lyrics, eyes glassy.

I swear to God I’ll never understand How you can stand there, straight and tall

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - DAY

Behind Grace, now just a shadow over us, Kenneth reacts to what he’s just done. He’s pacing, seemingly apologetic, immediately diving into love-bombing to make up for what he just did. Making her promises, more emotional than she is, terrified that she’s going to leave.

But Grace isn’t going anywhere. She’s frozen, trapped in the realization of what her life truly has become. What she married, who she chose to fall in love with, the extremes to which he’s capable of. The sinking feeling that nothing is sacred, nothing can protect her. Not really.

And see I’m crying And not do anything at all…

And yet, even then, that she still loves him. That’s the worst part. Her expression is blank as this hits her, the certainty that she isn’t going anywhere.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - CEREMONY HALL - DAY

The final repetitions of the piano take us out as Grace finishes her sentiments, clearly still grappling with those sinking, complex feelings all these years later.

Josh, pre-lap: [ weakly ] Oh my God.

EXT. NORTH HOLLYWOOD PARK - DAY

Based on the heavy silence that hangs over them, it’s clear that Maya has finished telling Josh the truth. All of it. The grim true colors of his employers, and the real reason she’s been M.I.A. since the retreat.

And it wasn’t easy to tell. Maya’s cheeks are tear-stained, and she’s folded herself up as small as she can manage on the park bench next to him. Josh, on the contrary, is folded over, cradling his head in his hands while he leans forward on his knees.

Josh: [ under his breath ] God, I’m gonna be sick.

Maya knows the feeling. She closes her eyes, willing no more tears to come. The ones she already spilled against her will were humiliating enough.

Josh exhales heavily and pushes himself upright, leaning back against the bench and tilting his head towards the sun. Trying to get the nausea to pass, urging the shock to wear off faster so he can think.

Josh: I can’t believe it. [ a beat ] Or actually, I can. Maybe that’s the worse part. Maya: I’m sorry. For dumping it on you. I shouldn’t have -- Josh: No, no. Don’t apologize. You of all people don’t need to be apologizing. I’m glad you told me. That you felt like you could. [ feebly ] Better to know, anyway.

Maya offers a weak nod of agreement. Though she sure wishes she never had to find out personally.

Josh: Did you tell Melissa? She should know, working so closely with him. If anyone -- Maya: I did. She -- [ swallowing hard ] She wasn’t interested in what I had to say. Josh: Seriously? [ off her nod ] What the fuck? Maya: In some ways, I get it. They’re close. Like… if someone tried to tell me that, I don’t know, Farkle or Zay -- Josh: No. No, don’t rationalize it. You don’t have to do that. It’s shitty as fuck, and there’s no excuse. I can’t believe you told her and she did nothing.

It stings to remember. Maya screws her eyes shut again, pressing a hand to them to stem any returning waterworks. Josh shakes his head, still trying to wrap his mind around it all.

Josh: I’m sorry. I’m -- fuck, I’m sorry. [ frustrated ] I wish I had better ideas for what to do. If you want to tell the label, or file a report, I’m behind you -- Maya, sharply: No.

Josh looks at her, surprised. He knows it’s a sensitive subject, but he didn’t expect such reticence from her. He tries to push back, pointing out that Justin might not get any consequences otherwise, and she’s fully within her rights to drag him to hell and back. And if she just needs some help --

Maya: No. No, I can’t. I don’t want -- I just want to move on. Like it never happened.

But it did. She can’t just erase it, no matter how badly she wishes she could. Josh seems reluctant to let it drop, feeling strong in his gut that there should be consequences…

But it’s Maya’s choice. Only she can decide how this moves forward, if at all. If she doesn’t want to say anything, or wants to shout about it from the rooftops, he has to respect that. Right now, respect is about the only thing he can offer her in light of something so awful.

Even so, even if no one else ever hears a whisper about this, he wants to make one thing crystal clear.

Josh: Justin is fucked. All right? He’s a creep, and it’s fucked what he did to you. Not just the -- but all of it. The way he treated you, from beginning to end. Like his… little fucking baby doll rather than one of the most talented new artists Global Beat has come across in years. [ fiercely ] You have talent, okay, the real thing, and he is a piece of shit for downplaying that just so he can have his way with you. Both of them are full of shit. And you don’t need them.

Amen. Maya listens to his tirade with wide eyes, moved by how worked up he is on her behalf. Suppose any decent guy would be, given the circumstances, but there’s something deeper to it. There’s an indignation for the sake of the work, for the sake of the music, that burns just as brightly as her fire often does.

Although it might be hard to explain to someone else, Josh understands intrinsically that this violation is about more than just her body. It’s her voice, too -- and that hurts just as much.

They settle into plaintive quiet for a moment, Josh taking a second to catch his breath and cool his anger.

Maya: I’m sorry. Josh, confused: For me? What for? Maya: For both of us. I should’ve listened to you the first time. When we first met. [ clearing her throat ] If I hadn’t been so stubborn, up my own ass, then…

Who knows? Maybe this whole thing could’ve been avoided. Maybe it could’ve been them on the same team from the get-go, and Maya never would’ve ended up in the lion’s den.

But then, who knows how much longer neither of them would’ve known the truth. How much longer they’d be walking blind, lying down with the snakes with no sense of where the venomous ones slither. Josh slouches back, shrugging in exhaustion.

Josh: Don’t give me that much credit. Truth is, I could say the same. I barely know what I’m doing most of the time either.

This reckoning surely proves that well enough. After another beat of thoughtful silence, Maya glances at him again.

Maya: What are you going to do?

Good question. Now that he knows, what is his next step? That question darkens Josh’s features, lingering unanswered…

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

The sky is just starting to shift from cloudy blue to rosy pink as Zay jogs up the few steps to Charlie’s apartment building. He’s dressed fashionably sharp as usual for an event such as this, with well-fitted dark pants and a statement suit jacket that represents his bold personality.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - LOBBY - DAY

Zay waits impatiently in the lobby, pacing the floor and ignoring the watchful eye of the desk attendant as he loiters. He checks his watch, not sure whether he wants time to speed up or slow down. The sooner he can get through this shitshow the better, but at the same time, he kind of doesn’t want to have to actually face it in the first place.

Zay: [ under his breath ] Again, couldn’t this have just been an email…

Complaints notwithstanding, all of his nervous energy falls out of his brain the moment Charlie steps out of the elevator.

Strangely, it feels like being thrown back in time. Even though they’re older, maybe (feels like barely) wiser, the moment shoots Zay back to how it felt to be standing outside a crowded theater in the heat of August. Watching Charlie Gardner approach, nicely dressed for an important evening and giving him that endearing bashful smile. Another time he was constantly battling the depth of his own feelings, when the label of “friends” felt accurate yet horribly insufficient, but he didn’t know if there was any hope for them to truly be considered anything else.

Only maximize all of the above times a million, considering Zay knows damn well what it feels like to be something more with him now, and those memories haunt him more and more by the day. That, and he looks so unfairly good with his well-earned glow-up -- stupid set-free wavy hair and European tan -- it should be a federal crime.

And now nix all of that and pretend it didn’t happen, because Charlie is in front of him and he has to be normal again. Charlie’s smile brightens as he greets him, getting a good look for himself.

Charlie: Hi. Zay: Hi. As usual, you’re late. Charlie: I know, sorry. Only by a minute though. You look great, by the way. Not that that’s breaking news. Kind of has me worried I’m underdressed -- Zay: No, you’re not. You look epic. [ a beat ] Like, epically appropriate. Not underdressed. Or overdressed. You’re… dressed.

Sure is. Smooth. Charlie raises his eyebrows, not sure whether he should laugh or not. Either way, Zay being flustered is damningly cute, even if he can just chalk it up to Turner nerves.

Speaking of, they are on the clock… Charlie clasps his hands together.

Charlie: So. You ready? Zay: Ready to get this fucking over with? Yes. [ as they start to walk out ] Hey, just so we’re clear, you don’t have to do this. Like I said. If you’d rather not, with everything going on -- Charlie: Zay.

Charlie stops them, pausing until Zay faces him. He braves the act of taking his shoulders, looking him in the eyes and not wavering.

Charlie: I’m fine. I will survive. And I want to be there for you. Okay?

If he says so… Zay holds his gaze, mostly just because he can’t help himself, but then he relents.

Zay, softer: Yeah, okay.

Charlie smiles, nodding and lightly nudging him to lead the way. As he follows him out…

INT. JOHNSON HOME - VANESSA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Vanessa is finishing up getting ready for the gala herself, slipping on a couple of bracelets before touching up her appearance in the mirror. Her ensemble is an off-white jumpsuit paired with an off-the-shoulder jacket, and she’s braided and pinned back one side of her hair while the rest falls over her opposite shoulder. She looks fierce and formidable, which is a good thing, because it’ll disguise how nervous she is about tonight.

Her eyes widen in surprise when she spots someone in her doorway through the mirror. ALEXIS JOHNSON.

Alexis: Hi.

Suddenly, they’re speaking again? Vanessa turns uncertainly to face her.

Vanessa: … hi. Alexis: I was hoping I’d catch you before you left. [ looking her over ] You look beautiful.

There’s nothing backhanded about the compliment. Vanessa is still guarded, but she opens up a little to further engagement.

Vanessa: The look isn’t quite finished. I still need to pick earrings. Do you want to help?

Completing a look, Alexis can confidently contribute. She brightens and comes over to join her, sifting lightly through the jewelry box on Vanessa’s dresser.

Alexis: You’ve had most of these since you were in middle school, haven’t you? I remember this one from the semi-formal. Vanessa: Yeah. Alexis: We’ll have to go shopping sometime soon. Freshen up your repertoire. Been a while since we did a mother-daughter shopping trip.

Alexis holds up one earring, comparing it thoughtfully to Vanessa’s ensemble, then decides against it. She does it a couple more times, before landing on the right one.

Alexis: This one. This is the one.

Vanessa seems unsure, far from an expert in these things, but she lets her mom pin the earrings in for her. Then she turns to face the mirror again, her mom beaming over her shoulder.

She was right. Those are just the right ones.

Vanessa: Cool. Thanks. Alexis: Excellent. Ready to be a finalist, for certain.

Again, Vanessa doesn’t look nearly as sure about that as she’d like to be. She faces her mother again and lets her adjust her hair.

Vanessa: All I can say is I hope you’re right. Otherwise I have spent a lot of time and effort blowing things up for nothing. Alexis: It wasn’t for nothing. And I have no doubt in my mind. Vanessa: You have to say that. You’re my mom. And you wouldn’t even know -- Alexis: Actually, I do.

Vanessa frowns slightly, confused. After a moment, Alexis meets her eyes, confessing.

Alexis: I went to your audition. I saw your performance. Vanessa: … you did? Alexis: Yes. Yes, and baby, you were incredible. I know you’ve always been a good dancer, and that you cared about it, but actually seeing it like that on stage… it radiates. You say something when you move, Vanessa. It’s remarkable.

Hearing that her mom was there is stunning enough -- processing the effusive praise for something her parents have mostly brushed off or pretended wasn’t happening is going to take a bit.

Vanessa: You didn’t tell me you were going to be there. Alexis: I couldn’t have. I didn’t know I would be. Vanessa: Then why were you? Why did you go? Alexis: I don’t know… it was strange. Just this feeling, I suppose. With how cold things have been, between all of us… I thought maybe I should see what all the fuss was about. At least try to see it, the way you’ve always seen it. [ choked up ] And I did. Nessie, I saw what you see.

So yes, she knows they have to admit her to the program. They’d be crazy not to. And Alexis will be cheering her on, every step of the way, wherever life and her career takes her. She wishes she had said so sooner, but better late than never.

Sure would be nice to have such strong support in her corner tonight… in fact, Vanessa finds herself blurting out the request before she can think it through.

Vanessa: Do you want to come with me?

She does get a plus-one, after all… Alexis contemplates the surprise invitation, holding her daughter’s cautiously hopeful gaze.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - RECEPTION HALL - NIGHT

Now that the sun has set and the main program of the funeral has passed, the guests and mourners mingle in the reception hall to commiserate and celebrate Kenneth’s life. It’s packed with folks from Quincy High School and the youth football community, along with old friends of Kenneth who traveled in for the affair.

Amidst all the shared loss and grieving, Riley sticks out like a sore thumb. She’s keeping to the sidelines with Dylan and Asher, observing rather than participating, but it’s near impossible for her to hide her apathy about the deceased. She’s a good actress, but faking grief for the man who made Lucas’s life so hellish might just cause her to drop dead too.

Asher seems equally disgruntled. He watches all of the mourners around them with a critical eye, unable to contain his frustration.

Asher: I don’t get it. All of the… Riley: Love. [ flatly ] They loved him.

And that fact is incomprehensible to them. Dylan shrugs.

Dylan: They knew a different person. Besides, we’re not here for him.

True. They’re there for Lucas. Asher huffs but nods, taking a sip of his drink. Riley nods as well, crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

Isa is experiencing a similar dissonance, compounded on top of triggers from their own experience with parental funerals. Packed full of mixed feelings and bittersweet thoughts… it’s a bit too much to take after listening to all the gushing over a man they despise. They make for the side door to get some fresh air.

Across the room, Jack notices them make their hurried exit.

EXT. FUNERAL HOME - RECEPTION HALL - NIGHT

Isa escapes into the dusk, exhaling a deep breath and shaking their head. They lean back against the bricks and pull their cardigan sleeves over their palms, wrapping themselves into a hug like armor.

Jack steps through the side door moments later, not having to go far to find Isa. They exchange a look.

Jack: I saw you leave. Everything okay? Isa: Okay? No. Am I dying? Also no. But at least I’m in the right place if so.

Jack lets out a scoff, then glances back over his shoulder through the door.

Jack: Mind if I join you for a minute? Think I could use the breather.

Isa shrugs, as good as a yes. Jack shuts the door and comes to stand beside them, stuffing his hands into his pockets and releasing an exhale of his own. For a long moment, they just stand in the quiet…

Isa: It’s fucked up. Jack: Hm? Isa: All… that. The way they talked about him, how sad they are. He doesn’t… he doesn’t deserve their praise. They have no idea who they’re really missing.

On principle, Jack doesn’t disagree. There’s certainly no love lost on his end.

Jack: It’s disorienting, when you know the reality of things. Yes. But you can’t fault them for that. Isa: Actually, I can, and I will.

Jack laughs lightly, allowing the stubborn comment to grant them a dose of humor on an otherwise heavy evening. Even so, there’s more to be said.

Jack: I get the feeling. For the most part, I feel that way, too. I’m guessing it doesn’t feel all that dissimilar to how Valerie’s ceremony went either. Obviously not to the same degree, or the same sins, but that same disconnect. Isa: … maybe. Jack: Death does weird things to us. Grief, too. It’s like in the shadow of it, nuance evaporates, and we can’t see the shades of grey anymore. It’s only black or white. That’s why so many people are heralded and mourned in their passing, regardless of how they lived. Something human about that, the… desire to let the dead rest. To not have to dig up all of the hatchets we did or didn’t bury. Isa: Stupid. Jack: Alas, human. With this, though, it’s a different beast entirely. These people can lionize him so easily, because the man they knew was worth lionizing. He was a pillar of the Quincy community. He coached a lot of the young men in there. They looked up to him. He was probably like a father to some of them. Isa: Pretty sick, considering what a shitty one he was to Lucas. Jack: I agree. But that’s the narrative they know. In their world, Lucas was the problematic child. Kenneth was a resilient and charming mentor doing the best he could. It all depends on what story you’ve been told, and which you believe. [ a beat ] And the fact is, most people in there don’t even realize there is a story. That’s the real crux of it. Every person we meet in life is an iceberg, and we’re only ever seeing the tip of it. Until they show us more, or we dive deeper to discover it. We can’t expect people to just sense things, or magically know the truth.

Frustrating as it is. Jack tilts his head back against the wall.

Jack: If you want someone to know something, you have to tell them. It has to be shared.

For better or worse. For whatever reason, that sentiment seems to hit Isa harder than they expected. Just another thought flurrying through their currently chaotic mind.

Jack glances back towards the door, knowing he should go back into the fray. He sighs.

Jack: Sometimes, though, it’s just not worth the effort of trying to say it.

In this case, it’s better to let the mourners share their grief, and move on without ever having to know the truth. At this point, saves trouble for everyone involved, particularly Grace and Lucas.

Jack lightly pats Isa’s shoulder and tells them he’ll see them back in there, before leaving them alone.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - ENTRANCE HALL - NIGHT

Grace and Lucas are stationed by the doors, giving themselves a much-needed break from constant socializing. It’s easier to be by the exit, only fielding well-meant sympathies when people on already on their way out. They mostly stand in plaintive silence, managing nods and brief thank yous when people wish them well or share their condolences. Grace offers a gentle smile, too, but Lucas stays solemn.

As a reprieve of no guests passes, Lucas quietly speaks.

Lucas: Thanks. For taking the podium earlier. Grace: Of course. [ a beat ] I wasn’t expecting the director to ask us for words. We hadn’t discussed that. But I suppose when you throw something together so quickly… Lucas: I’m sorry you had to do that. In front of all those people. Make shit up on the spot.

Grace pauses, considering that.

Grace: I wouldn’t call it that.

Before they can continue, they’re accosted by another set of mourners leaving the reception. This one appears to be a former football player and his parents, all of whom have nothing but high regards for Kenneth and take care to tell them so.

Footballer: He was like a second dad to me. Seriously, one of the best there ever was.

Lucas keeps his eyes to the floor. Grace fields the warm compliment instead, doing her best to receive it with an open mind.

Grace: Thank you. He really cared about the team.

The mother of the football player has clearly spent her tears this afternoon, and she still isn’t done. She’s still choked up and emotional as she echoes her son’s sentiments.

Football Mother: He was so good to the team. To all of us, really. He was such a wonderful man. I wish you both every happiness as you work through his loss. Oh, and…

She turns her loud sympathy on Lucas, nearly breaking into tears again as she takes him in. She reaches out and touches his arm, which makes him snap his head up in surprise. Caught in her glassy stare, there’s no avoiding the next blubbering statement to come out of her mouth.

Football Mother: You are so much like him.

The father gently pries his wife away from Lucas and offers one more round of condolences. They set off down the steps and on their way, totally unaware of how easily they’ve just clocked Lucas. He stands frozen for a long moment, pale and shaky, before he regains the ability to move. He clears his throat.

Lucas: [ barely audible ] Excuse me.

Lucas steps away from the doors, disappearing back into the halls of the funeral home. Grace watches him go, concerned but clueless how to help. She always has been, she knows.

She’s distracted anyway when another group of mourners come to pay their respects, trapping her in conversation.

A whimsical, faraway orchestration floats in, building as we transition away --

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - GALA VENUE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dance at the Gym” as performed by West Side Story Original Movie Soundtrack || Instrumental (from 00:16 to 02:09)

The Turner gala is in full swing, the banquet hall it’s being held in full of attendees. It’s a mix of faculty and staff at NYCA, current Turner students and alumni -- including SIMONE WILSON, laughing and chatting with her peers -- and of course, the current transfer cohort and their guests. Beyond just the reveal of the current transfer finalists, this gala also includes announces of scholarships, alumni recognition, etc., so there’s at least some justification for all the fanfare.

As for the set-up, it does feel a bit like a school formal. A large space is cleared at the center of the hall to act as a dance floor -- these are members of a dance community, after all, and it’s been a long year -- and the outer edge of the floor is lined with tables for food, drinks, information, and raffle prizes. Up on the small stage, a microphone stands front and center for important announcements of the evening and any performances. Behind it is a small but mighty orchestra, who is providing the swanky accompaniment and jazzy music for the evening.

Currently, Zay and Charlie have found company with HENRIK VON FELDT and a couple of other current Turner students. Despite the tension of the evening, and what news awaits, the vibe is decently upbeat.

Student: Well, for what it’s worth, man, I hope you make it. Zay: Thanks. Charlie: He will. Henrik: Yeah, and even if he doesn’t, don’t worry about Zayby. He’s been busy doing all these insane audition runs in the meantime. Student 2: Oh, no shit? Zay: I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but -- Student: That’s dope. You heard from any of them yet?

Zay shakes his head. Henrik points out that this has been Zay’s M.O. basically since they met -- he goes overboard on everything, outshining everyone else and tossing all his chances into the air, and usually things land in a way that works out for him.

Henrik: He’s a try-hard, but that is why we love him.

Well, Henrik isn’t wrong. Zay glares at Henrik, while Charlie does his absolute best not to laugh.

Student 2: Dude, I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with all this then. If I had the goods to be booking Broadway shows -- Henrik, helpfully: Off-Broadway. Charlie: Yindra thanks you. That’s usually her job. Student 2: I wouldn’t be banking so hard on this. Like, take the money and run, lol.

And maybe you have a point, random Turner student, but Zay does not want to hear more of this. He’s focused on this plan right now, which still remains up in the air, and he doesn’t need yet another person to echo this criticism on tonight of all nights. He clears his throat and manages a tight smile, before turning to Charlie and finding an exit.

Zay: I’m gonna grab a drink. You want anything?

Charlie claims he’s good, but he can sense Zay’s shift in demeanor. Before he can ask him about it, or check that he’s okay, Henrik chimes in and pulls Charlie back into the chatter as the longest-running observer of Zay’s antics.

Henrik: Oh, oh, Charlie. Tell them about the Kossal audition stuff. This guy spends weeks obsessing over his routine, and then bam, he rips it all up and just wings it night of. No joke.

Yeah, Zay doesn’t need to hear this story again -- not to mention, thinking about Kossal audition night kind of feels like dangerous territory for some reason. He excuses himself, smoothly slipping into the crowd. Charlie watches him go, then musters back up a smile as he tunes into Henrik’s regaling of his friend’s unconventional approach to his passion.

Zay exhales shortly and tries to shake off the tension in his limbs as he makes his way through the crowd. He doesn’t know why he feels so wound up, aside from the obvious. He usually isn’t this sensitive, let alone about opportunities like this. And Henrik is right -- he does have potential avenues beyond this if tonight doesn’t go as planned. So why is he so locked up? Why all the static in his brain and strain in his shoulders?

Why does everything these days feel like the end of the world?

If this is just young adulthood, he will pass. Once he makes it to the drinks, he finds himself reaching for the ladle to the punch bowl at the exact same time as someone else.

Vanessa. Because naturally. They lock eyes, both uncertainly backing off…

Until they manage to shake off the initial shock. They’re not going to be weird about this. Neither of them want to be weird about it.

Zay: Hey. Vanessa: Hi. [ gesturing to the punch ] Can I?

Zay nods, gesturing for her to go on. She does, pouring herself a cup before going ahead and getting one for him too. Unexpectedly nice move. Zay takes it.

Zay: You look good. Vanessa: Thanks. Are we supposed to say shit like that to each other, though? Given… Zay: Hey, I’m just stating a fact. No ulterior motive behind it. But if you’d rather I not acknowledge your hotness, that is fine by me. Vanessa: No, you’re more than welcome. I’ll take facts. Zay: Cool. [ a beat ] You can return the favor, you know.

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, subtly making a face as she takes a long sip of her drink. No comment. Cheeky… Zay rolls his eyes, but honestly, he doesn’t mind the sass. It feels familiar -- it feels normal.

Zay: So how are you feeling? About tonight? Vanessa: [ with a shrug ] Like my stomach is going to fall out of my ass? Like I need a giant pair of scissors to snip my spine in half and let me go limp? So you know, the usual. Zay: Yeah. Do you think it’s ever gonna stop feeling that way? Vanessa: We’re trying to be entertainers, Babineaux. Sources say no.

Figures. Well, at least there’s solidarity in the struggle… Vanessa glances over his shoulder towards the crowd, where she catches a glimpse of Henrik…

Vanessa: I see you’ve brought a plus-one.

Zay glances back over his shoulder as well, just as Charlie laughs at something the students said. His gaze lingers for a moment before he remembers to look away, meeting Vanessa’s eyes again.

Vanessa: That didn’t take long. Zay: It’s… it’s not like that. He’s just here as my friend.

Uh huh. Right… Vanessa does nothing to hide her skepticism, taking another pointed sip. Not like she’s all that surprised, though, nor especially stung to see it. There was a reason she broke things off.

Zay isn’t ready to address that, though, so he searches for a change in topic.

Zay: How about you? Summer? Vanessa: No, actually. [ a beat ] My mom is here.

That is surprising. Zay raises his eyebrows.

Zay: For real? Is that a good thing? Vanessa: I don’t know. It’s… new. Suppose we’ll see what happens.

If things don’t go the way she wants tonight, it’ll be a pointless development anyway. Can’t support her career if there’s no career.

Speaking of, it’s Vanessa’s turn to go on stage. An organizer for the gala finds them by the drink table and quietly informs her that she’s next on the roster, so they’d like her to head to the stage. Vanessa nods, giving Zay a look before starting to head in that direction.

Zay: Vanessa.

Vanessa stops, looking at him over her shoulder. Zay isn’t sure why he called after her, but the words slip out of him moments later.

Zay: I don’t know a lot of people who can keep up with me. They’re a rare breed. [ a beat ] I’d really like to not lose the ones I do find. Regardless of what happens.

It’s an unexpectedly vulnerable confession on a night so high in stakes for them both. Sure, their romance didn’t pan out -- for many reasons -- but there’s something between them worth keeping alive. Something that Zay, for whatever reason, seems certain that he doesn’t want to lose even they’re no longer involved.

They’re twin fire signs, and they feed each other’s flames. They make one another better. If there’s any chance of holding onto that, in a form that is healthier for both of them, then Zay wants to make it clear that he’s open to it.

Which is not usually how break-ups go, at least as far as Vanessa knows, but then again, she doesn’t have a lot of experience. And Zay has never played by everyone else’s rules.

Could they, really and truly, be friends?

Right now, Vanessa doesn’t have time to decide. She accepts his declaration with a simple nod, then makes her way towards the stage. Zay lets her go. He said his piece; he made his point. If she wants to take him up on the offer, she knows how to reach him.

But for now, it’s showtime. One of the other faculty members takes the microphone and makes a few miscellaneous comments, before introducing the next transfer hopeful of the evening.

Faculty: Folks, please give a warm Turner welcome to Vanessa Johnson.

The crowd does so, Vanessa giving the faculty an awkward smile as she crosses the stage to arrive at the mic. Alexis watches excitedly from her spot in the crowd, a bit awkward herself as she’s never been at an event like this without playing perfect wife, but happy to be there.

Zay rejoins Charlie and Henrik just as Vanessa finishes adjusting the microphone.

Vanessa: Hi. Like they said, I’m Vanessa, and… here’s to the future.

Whatever it holds. She turns behind her and takes a deep breath, nodding to the orchestra director.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “my future” as performed by Billie Eilish || Performed by Vanessa Johnson

Vanessa’s rendition of the Billie Eilish self-serenade is a bit more stacked than the original, as she has the full backing of an orchestra to elevate the piece. The instrumentation is still muted, but sounds a bit more like this big band version, giving it more of her spitfire spirit.

Either way, it’s her vocals that are the standout. The song is perfectly suited to her alto register, but more than that, the lyrics speak truth to where she finds herself.

I’m not here I’m just a mirror

For so long, she upheld the standards of others, allowing herself to become invisible and lose whoever rested at her core. But she’s not doing that anymore. She’s not putting her sense of self or happiness on her parents, or a partner, or anyone else who thinks they can tell her how to be.

Whatever the future holds, Turner or no Turner, she isn’t going to let go of this clarity. Vanessa is putting Vanessa first.

And if she’s lucky, she’ll fall in love with her too.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - ROOFTOP - NIGHT

Reyna is spending a cool evening in her wicker chair, soaking up the brief glimpse she can of the starry evening before the storm clouds roll in again. With the relentlessly poor weather, she hasn’t had much of a chance to enjoy the views.

That, and the rooftop is an excellent place to think. Nigel seems to have absorbed that lesson as well, opening the door to the roof and spotting his lola.

He comes over to join her. She peeks at him with one eye open, pretending to be disdainful at the disruption of her peace… but the small smile on her face indicates she knew he’d show up eventually.

Nigel: Nice night. For once. Reyna: Mm, not for long. Rain within the next hour or so. Nigel: Guess you better enjoy it while it lasts. Reyna: What do you think I was doing before you came up here and started blabbering at me?

Nigel rolls his eyes, but he knows she’s just picking on him. He settles down on the concrete by her feet, sitting cross-legged and following her gaze out towards the city.

Reyna: It’s okay. The sun will be back. It’s always when you think you can’t take any more, that the clouds will never part again, that it likes to make its reappearance.

It just likes to make you wait, every now and then. Keeps us humble. Nigel admits that he likes rain, so it hasn’t been much of a bother to him.

Reyna: Tsk, I know. You are just like your mother in that way. [ a beat ] In more ways than that, I think.

Nice segue, Reyna… Nigel sighs, looking up at her.

Nigel: Do you think she’ll be upset with me forever? Reyna: I don’t think she is upset with you now. I think she worries the opposite! Nigel: I’m not… it’s not that I’m mad at her. Or that I think her reaction was… it’s not like I don’t get it. Objectively. It just feels like…

He’s confused, and uncertain. He always walked towards the future with this stable foundation, this idea that even if things didn’t come easy, or it took him time to figure it out, his family would be in his corner. He took that for granted, maybe expected too much. Now he doesn’t know how to adjust his expectations, or the way he views their relationship.

Reyna: Liezel is in your corner. She loves you. Nigel: I know. At least, I think I do. But then I think about how that conversation went, and the way she looked at me --

All that doubt in her expression. Proof that her belief in him has limitations. Reyna shakes her head.

Reyna: It’s not in you that she lacks faith. She just wants what is best for you. That’s the problem. Nigel: How can that be a problem? Reyna: You can’t see this because of your age, but the world you live in is not the one she knows. That she or Ernesto know -- that I know, for that matter. When your tatang and I came here, all those years ago, the world was a very different place. Our world had different expectations. Ernesto and Liezel, they had a little more to work with than I did, but it was still a big hill to climb.

Nigel has a fundamentally different experience, as a second generation Chey, than they did. His parents worked hard to make it that way.

Reyna: Your mama especially sees a much different world. She had ambitions too -- enrolled at a good school, studying engineering. But when her parents got sick, before you were even here, she had to change plans. She had to give all of that up, take up a more straightforward line of work. Learn trade skills, help keep things afloat. That is her lived reality. Nigel: She never told me about the engineering degree. She just said school didn’t work for her. Reyna: Circumstantially, that is true. But not by choice. She and Ernesto, they worked to build up a stronger foundation for you. They wanted you to have the room to dream bigger. The trick is, it is their success that has brought us here -- they set you all up so well, with such a pretty view, that you can’t even see one another anymore.

Essentially, it’s hard for Liezel and Ernesto to grasp such a bold change, because it never would’ve occurred to them to consider it. Nigel didn’t just throw them a curveball -- he flipped the whole field over, and in their lack of preparation, he got the strongest possible panic response.

Now, the dust has settled, giving both of them plenty of time to think. Whether Nigel can forgive the words said, or see their point of view, that is entirely up to him. But if he’s open to bridging the gap…

Reyna: Give your ma a little bit of grace. Try to keep her world in mind as she tries to comprehend yours. That is the only way you will truly be able to hear each other.

Nigel processes that, nodding. He thanks Reyna for the advice.

Nigel: If you’re a whole other world apart from mine, then how do you always know exactly what to say? Reyna: Hmph, my wisdom exceeds such meaningless boundaries. Time has no power over me!

Nigel laughs, shaking his head. He accepts an affectionate pat on the head from her, then the two of them settle back into enjoying the temporary calm before the storm.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

The work day is winding down, and by some miracle, Josh has managed to avoid his bosses. Not entirely unfounded, since higher-ups often don’t even bother to come into the office, but still a relief.

Even so, he can’t shake off a foreboding feeling. He’s been holding himself tight all day, stiff and uncomfortable, like he can’t relax. He glances around the Global Beat offices, a place he’s occupied for years now, but it’s like he’s been transported to another universe. The shadows seem longer; the veneer has dulled.

He doesn’t think he can stomach much more today. He gets up and starts packing his bag, ROWAN PHELPS giving him a look.

Phelps: Going somewhere? Josh: I’m not feeling well. I’m calling it. Phelps: Damn. Josh: What? Phelps: Nothing. Just never thought I’d hear you say you’re leaving early. Is that you in there, Josh Matthews? Have you been body-snatched?

Honestly, he isn’t sure he is the same person anymore, no. But he doesn’t want to get into it. He manages a smile to brush off the playful jab, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Just as he’s walking away from his desk and heading towards the elevators, his luck runs out.

Justin: Joshie!

Justin and Melissa have returned to the office, stopping by before an evening networking event. They’re cheerful, but equally surprised to see Josh walking out of the building before 6 P.M. Where does he think he’s going?

Justin: You can’t already be leaving.

Josh is practically gritting his teeth. His voice comes out unnaturally tight.

Josh: I did my stuff for today. I’m not feeling well. Melissa: Oh, no. Okay, well, feel better. Let us know if you need anything. Justin: Yeah, you know we’ve got your back, dude. Nothing more important than your health, and all that.

Right. Josh doesn’t say anything, continuing his walk towards the elevator. Every muscle in his body is on edge, but he’s almost out of there. He just has to make it home…

Justin: By the way, remind me tomorrow that we want you to listen to the new girl’s samples. She is sick, man, you’re gonna love her! Not to mention hot as hell.

Once you open your eyes, you can’t close them. You can’t ignore the obvious. The objectifying comments jump out like they’re in red ink, burning Josh’s ears pink as anger rises in his chest.

Justin: If Maya never crawls out from under the rock she’s apparently taken up residence in, at least we’ve got a solid back-up, lol.

That’s it. The faux innocence is the last straw. Josh snaps, whipping back around. Before he knows what he’s doing, he shoves Justin as hard as he can, knocking him backwards towards the wall and startling absolutely everyone in the office. BRIAN HARRIS leaps up from his seat with wide eyes, Phelps dropping their jaw.

Melissa: Holy shit -- Brian: Hello?! Justin: Man, what the fuck --

Justin starts to instinctively push back, but Josh is quicker with the upperhand. He keeps Justin off balance and slams him back against the wall, full of disgust.

Josh: You’re sick. You’re fucking sick. Justin: What the hell, Josh?! Get the fuck off me!

The chatter grows loud enough to gather the attention of other high-level producers and executives, who emerge from their offices to inquire as to what exactly is going on. Phelps stares in disbelief, watching them all converge on Josh.

Melissa: Josh. Let go of him.

Her voice is stern… but calm. Almost understanding. She’s not an idiot, so she has a good suspicion what prompted this outburst. It’s plain as day on Josh’s face -- the flushed cheeks, the teary eyes in spite of his palpable rage. The utter sense of betrayal.

But to everyone else, it just seems like he’s officially lost the plot. And if he knows what’s good for him, with all those high-level eyes on him, he’ll let go.

So he does. Josh backs off and releases Justin, who despite his bravado appears visibly shaken by the encounter. Other male employees surge forward to intervene, but Josh doesn’t let them touch him, shaking off their hands and insisting that he’s on his way out. No need to direct him.

Josh: I’m already gone.

He marches towards the elevators, pushing through the door to the stairs instead. Justin does his best to regain his composure, forcing out an easy-going laugh and adjusting his shirt.

Justin: Don’t know what he’s on, but I’m sure I don’t want any of it. Ha ha.

Phelps watches Josh go, expression uncharacteristically flustered.

EXT. GLOBAL BEAT - DAY

Josh pushes through the revolving doors and into the Los Angeles sunset, releasing a monumental exhale that cracks at the end. He doesn’t know what came over him, but he doesn’t think he could’ve fought it either. He wasn’t going to be able to keep all his emotion over this in much longer.

Phelps exits the building moments later, having chased him down.

Phelps: Dude, what the absolute fuck was that?!

Josh grimaces, spinning away from them and hiding his head in his hands. He can’t do this right now.

Phelps: Seriously, are you cracked? When you said you weren’t feeling well, was that your way of telling me you’re having a mental snap or something? You realize they could fire your ass for something like that, right? Josh: Whatever. Good, whatever, I don’t care.

That’s what really stops Phelps dead in their tracks. Josh, Josh Matthews, doesn’t care about his job? The one thing he’s lived for in the entire time they’ve known him? Either he really is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and they should call health services, or…

The revelation washes over Phelps, expression growing grim. Their voice is hollow when they speak again.

Phelps: Something happened. Didn’t it?

They don’t have to elaborate what they mean by that. It goes without saying, an unspoken language all Hollywood dwellers learn to translate. To communicate without specifics, to say things without saying them. To discuss the open secrets that riddle their industry without ever having to address them head on.

They both always knew there was a possibility it would brush them too. Everyone does, when you join this business. You accept the potential poison every time you drink from the career chalice, when you commit to creating within the confines of the La La Land machine.

Still, as demonstrated by their reactions, it’s never quite possible to be prepared for the reality.

Phelps: Josh.

Josh stays facing away from them, unable to look at them. Eyes rimmed red with unshed tears, limbs shaky under the weight of the secret Maya entrusted him to carry. Phelps knows, instinctively -- they’re asking him to know. To confirm it.

But it’s not his story to tell. It’s not his place. Thankfully, Phelps isn’t the one in danger to Justin’s antics. Although they’re tangential to it, under the same roof and adjacent to his power, it’s not actually their problem. They don’t have anything to do with it.

And they love this job too. Josh knows they do, even with their cool aloofness. If something has to take that excitement and purpose away from Phelps, if it’s bound to happen to all of them eventually, Josh doesn’t want to be the one to do it.

He half-turns to look at them, bittersweet but resigned.

Josh: Good luck, Phelps. I hope it happens for you.

There’s a heaviness to the exchange, in the avoidance of his response. This isn’t just an off-day. Things won’t go back to the same old, same old come tomorrow. Both of them sense that. And in this industry, when you’re no longer on the same projects or stuck at adjoining desks, those connections have a pretty habit of evaporating into nothing until there’s a convenient transaction needed again.

This feels like a goodbye.

Phelps doesn’t seem happy about that, but they realize they aren’t going to get any more out of Josh. Whatever happened, it fundamentally changed things, and now they have to deal with that. They keep their emotions in check, clenching their jaw, and give him a nod.

Phelps: You too.

Josh accepts that with one of his own. Then, Phelps lets him go, turning back to Global Beat. They hesitate for a moment, as if they sense they should second-guess the choice to walk back through those golden doors… but for now, they do, stepping back inside and disappearing.

Josh blinks back his tears and makes the opposite choice, stuffing his trembling hands in his pockets and heading down the street.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - RECEPTION HALL - NIGHT

At the funeral, Lucas’s absence has not gone unnoticed. Riley is scanning the reception for him, concern building the longer he remains out of sight.

She manages to find Jack, at least, who greets her with a muted smile.

Riley: Have you seen Lucas? I can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere. Jack: Not recently, no. [ a beat ] I think I saw him leave about twenty minutes ago.

He left? That makes the scope of where he could’ve possibly disappeared to dauntingly wider. Riley curses under her breath, but Jack reaches out and comfortingly touches her shoulder.

Jack: Give him some space, Riley. It’s been a hard day. Riley: I know. I just -- Jack: You want to be there for him. And you already have, leagues beyond what he expected. It’s amazing that you were able to be here today, even if he acted like you didn’t need to be. [ a beat ] But you know how he is. After a day like this, sometimes… you just need to let him be.

He’s right. Riley hates that he’s right, but he is. She acknowledges that with a nod, and a weary sigh, before giving Jack a smile and thanks. He returns it.

Jack: You can go too. You’ve more than done your part, and he was the only reason you were here anyway. I know today was difficult for you too. Riley, hesitant: … I should help Grace -- Jack: I can handle that. I mean it, you’re free to go.

That is a relief. Riley accepts the freedom, thanking Jack once more before he lets her slip away.

She finds Isa instead, meeting her in a corner of the room. Isa looks about as exhausted and over it as she does, which is all Riley needs to see.

Riley: Let’s get out of here. I need a fucking drink. Isa: You had me at “get out,” but hell yes to all of that. Fuck this.

They head out together, wasting no time to get away from all the Kenneth.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - GALA VENUE - NIGHT

Vanessa is wandering the hall with her mom, introducing her whenever they find themselves pulled into conversation. In the middle of chatter with some of her classmates, ROSARIO GAO passes them by, catching Vanessa’s eye and greeting her cordially.

Rosario: Miss Johnson. You look well. Vanessa: Thank you. It feels good to be here. Rosario: Fittingly. Congratulations for making it this far.

Whether that continues past tonight, well… Gao shifts her eyes to Alexis, raising her eyebrows in interest. Vanessa quickly clears her throat.

Vanessa: Um, this is my mom. Alexis: [ holding out a hand ] Alexis. It’s wonderful to meet you. Vanessa has spoken very highly of you.

At this, Gao seems mildly amused. She has no trouble believing her students talk about her outside of class, but “highly” is worth a bit of skepticism… even so, she’ll let the schmoozing slide.

Rosario: Vanessa is one of the stronger in the cohort, so that doesn’t surprise me. Your daughter works very hard. You have much to be proud of.

Nothing about her talent, or her prospects, but something about the straightforward compliment almost means more. Gao isn’t one for attitude, or ego, and she respects showing up and doing the work above all else. If that’s what she has to say about Vanessa, then that’s not the worst thing to hear.

Alexis absorbs that, glancing at Vanessa next to her. She smiles.

Alexis: Yes. Yes, certainly.

With that, Gao lets them go, wishing Vanessa luck. Betraying nothing, even though she absolutely knows who the three finalists are… Vanessa exhales once she’s gone, exchanging a look with her mother that bubbles into an awkward laugh. Getting a little taste of the semesters-long tension on the house!

Meanwhile, the time has come for Zay’s turn up on stage. He disappeared a few minutes ago, leaving Charlie with Henrik.

Henrik: Did he tell you what he was doing for his thing? He wouldn’t give me any deets. Charlie: Not really. I was supposed to help him figure it out, but… we didn’t get all that far.

Henrik seems intrigued by that vague comment, but he doesn’t get the chance to be nosy. The faculty takes the stage and tees up another introduction, inviting Zay onto the stage.

So whatever he’s about to do, he came up with it all on his own. Zay approaches the microphone and exchanges niceties with the faculty, back in well-rehearsed charm mode as he’s back to performing. He adjusts the microphone and then slides his six-string guitar around from behind his back, having stowed it backstage in the wings.

Zay: Hey y’all. As mentioned, I’m Zay Babineaux, and as was probably predictable, I’m annoyingly passionate about dance. But since we all are here, and I’ve done enough dancing this year to probably last anyone else a lifetime, I thought I would do something a bit different for my five seconds of spotlight tonight. To prove that I actually do have other talents beyond all this.

The crowd chuckles. Charlie smiles lightly, knowing that truth all too well.

Zay takes a couple moments of quiet to tune his guitar, mentally preparing himself. Then he takes a deep breath, addressing the room again.

Zay: I had a lot of ideas for what I could’ve done tonight. Ways to make myself standout, or intimidate my peers, or just act above all this stuff… but then I figured, what’s the point? We already auditioned. We’ve already put everything out there. Bravado isn’t going to do me much good now. [ a beat ] So instead, I thought I’d just play something I like. A tribute to something that was part of what got me so into dance in the first place… so if this career works out for me and I become more insufferable than I already am, you can blame Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan. Thank you very much.

For a room full of dance students, that’s basically all he needed to say. He clears his throat, taking one last moment to find Charlie in the crowd…

Zay: Anyway. If you get it, you get it. Thanks.

With that, Zay starts to play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dear Life” as performed by Anthony Hamilton || Performed by Zay Babineaux

The true credit is that Zay managed to find the one remotely sentimental and acoustic song on the Step Up soundtrack to run with, but honestly, it’s refreshing. It’s a nice change of pace to just hear him sing again, to strip down the star power and play from something more authentic. It more than demonstrates that he’s more than just killer choreography and a big ego, so mission accomplished.

Then there’s the subtext. Another kind of secret language, one that goes unheard by most people in attendance that don’t know anything about Zay. Who don’t know his history, who don’t have his full context, who probably aren’t paying attention to the words he’s singing or the meaning they carry. To them, he’s just another transfer hopeful, singing a song from one of his favorite movies.

Sometimes in life, you run across a love unknown Without a reason, it feels like you belong

But Charlie does know. He knows every word, because he also spent hours as a kid listening to this album and even more hours in the recent years. When this film and soundtrack were part of the foundation that bonded them together. He knows the history -- he is the context.

He gets it. And like always, as he has been since the start, he’s absolutely captivated by Zay’s performance.

Zay meets his eyes again as he reaches the final repetition of the chorus, suddenly unable to look away.

Hold on, dear life, don't go off running from what's new I became somebody through loving you

The final few notes peter out, Zay’s fingers releasing the strings, and quiet settles over the room. For a brief second, it feels like it’s just the two of them, as if any other context has ceased to matter.

Then the applause from the audience snaps them out of it, reminding Zay of where he is and that he’s presenting. He nods a thank you and takes his exit as the faculty steps back up to the stage. Charlie is shaken out of his daze and the way his heart is pounding when Henrik playfully elbows him. Not bad for their bestie, huh?

Yep. That’s all it is. Just another good performance from Zay, his good friend.

Totally, completely normal.

INT. JOSH’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Josh makes it back home, and that’s for the better, because he can’t hold it in anymore. Once he steps back inside the safe haven of his apartment, he has one beat of stunned quiet…

And then it all comes crumbling down. He hides his head in his hands.

Josh: Fuck!

It’s genuine anguish. He drops his bag on the floor and removes his beanie, throwing it to the side. He runs his hands through his hair, a few tears starting to fall as Andrew emerges from his room to see what all the fuss is about.

Andrew: Damn, dude, what’s --

His tone is teasing at first, but once he sees the state Josh is in, he knows it’s serious. He switches tone instantly, approaching Josh to get him to stop frantically pacing.

Andrew: Man, what’s wrong? What happened? [ a beat ] What fucked up thing did Global Beat do now?

Josh scoffs out a laugh, screwing his eyes shut and letting more tears fall. Because that says everything, doesn’t it? The fact that Andrew just knew the problem would be Global Beat -- he’s been telling him for ages he was wasting his time. That he was killing himself over nothing. Only now, it’s even worse.

Now, he’s been killing himself for something he can’t stand. That makes him sick, goes against everything he thought he stood for.

Andrew manages to direct Josh to the couch, settling them both down as he tries to get him to talk about it. Josh simply shakes his head, unable to give him anything. It’s not his secret to share, even with someone he knows would never tell.

But his grief is evident enough regardless. He’s lost something, something major, and Andrew can figure that out without details the same way Phelps intrinsically sensed the worst hiding in plain sight. He’s empathetic, choking up a bit himself to see his best friend in such a state.

Andrew: Fuck, man. I’m sorry. Josh: I just --

His voice cracks, causing him to shake his head again. He can’t find the words -- he can’t bring himself to say them.

Josh: It’s all a joke. It; me. Everything I thought I knew, what I believed --

The thing he’s devoted the last half-decade to obsessively has turned out to be a house of cards, built on the most corrupt of foundations. It’s like losing his religion.

Josh: I’ve wasted my life on… it’s sick. And I’m part of it. I’m part of the problem. Andrew: Josh, no. Come on. Whatever happened, it wasn’t you.

But isn’t it? He was there the whole time. He played the games; he participated in the machinery. He was another willing cog, looking out for himself to get what he wanted. How is he so different from Melissa, or Justin?

Andrew, despite knowing zero facts, knows enough to vehemently reject this thinking.

Andrew: Look, man. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened to make you reach this point -- though, if I’m being candid, I’m kind of glad you’ve made it here. Like, I hate to see you like this, and I wish I could make it better. But this is your chance to do something about it. This is your chance to change the shitshow.

Josh lets out a sob, pressing his palms to his eyes. Andrew braces his shoulder, waiting for him to look him in the eyes.

Andrew: Whatever shit was going on, you didn’t know about it. You can’t be faulted for something you didn’t know. True ignorance isn’t a crime, even if it hurts like a bitch when it ends. What matters now, what you have the power to decide, is what you do now that you do know. You can make your next step with eyes wide open, whatever it is.

And knowing him the way he does, Andrew has little doubt Josh will figure out the right thing to do. Josh lets out an exhale, wiping his eyes and trying to process the advice.

Andrew: All I’ll say is what I’ve been telling you the whole time -- know who you are, man. Because I know him, and he is one of my favorite fucking people in the world. He’s a try-hard, and he has no work-life balance because he’s all up his passion’s ass, but he’s a good dude. He’s got the best heart there is. Whatever happened, whatever you have to decide to do next, just… think about him. The guy you really are. Because all this -- the bullshit, the exploitation, the grind -- is it worth giving up that guy?

Is it worth his soul? Josh has been battling that question his entire adult life, trying to justify the less-than-stellar aspects of his job in his head.

Now, whether he’s ready or not, the time has come to choose. As the melancholic guitar line floats in…

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Everybody Loves You” as performed by The Chicks || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando

Similar to the imaginary Adams stage of last episode, Dylan and Asher occupy a fictional version of the technician’s booth in this figmental performance. Although the setting appears about the same as we remember it -- the way someone remembers it, as a safe haven and recluse from the monsters lurking in his own home -- the lighting is done more like a stage. Warm light illuminates Dylan and Asher in their places on the table that holds the lighting and sound boards, while the rest of the booth around them is cast in shadow.

Dylan sits by the lighting board, guitar propped on his thigh as he performs the accompaniment and backing harmonies. Asher takes the vocal lead, perched on the other side by the sound board and hugging his knees to make himself smaller.

The song itself is emblematic of emotions not their own, once again returning to their former roles of musically translating another’s thoughts. In the aftermath of the funeral, and given precedent, it doesn’t take much to understand how.

Try not to talk about it I'm too mad, I'm too late, I'm too gentle It's too hard to explain, I'm not helpful

EXT. FUNERAL HOME - GRAVEYARD - FLASHBACK - DAY

At the same time, we’re given a glimpse of the moment when Kenneth’s cremated ashes were lowered into the ground and buried. Surrounded by mourners filled with sorrow, respectfully somber, what feels like too many admirers for a man so filled with cruelty.

At the center of it, Grace and Lucas watch him disappear into the ground, expressions stony by comparison.

It's my body, and it hates you Why does everybody love you?

INT. DYLAN’S CAR - NIGHT

In the present, while their imaginary counterparts continue the serenade, Dylan and Asher have taken up Riley’s mission in finding Lucas. They’re driving around the city, scanning the usual spots, not having much luck.

Until they end up at the only place there is left to look.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

They emerge from Dylan’s car, looking up at the shabby apartment building. The one they were nearly never allowed to visit, that Lucas spent so much time and effort avoiding at all costs.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The door is unlocked when Dylan and Asher step inside, cautiously proceeding through the living area. They still move with trepidation, as if the potential threat lurking in the shadows might still be there. It’ll take time to unlearn those habits -- the ones they quickly picked up from their best friend.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Dylan slowly pushes open the bedroom door, poking his head in. Once the coast appears to be clear, he steps inside, Asher following after him. As far as they can tell, still no sign of Lucas.

Dylan goes and peers out the open window, checking the usual hiding spot of the fire escape. No dice. Perhaps he really isn’t here. Dylan turns back to Asher, about to suggest as much --

Only Asher has noticed something different. He catches Dylan’s eye, then turns his gaze back towards the closet…

Where the door is cracked open just a hair. The two of them exchange a look.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - CLOSET - NIGHT

As the music flows into its final pensive moments, Dylan and Asher find what they’re looking for.

Buried back in the depths of the closet, protectively shielded by clutter, Lucas has sought refuge in the darkness and the quiet. The place he always went when it all became too much, where his tears would be muffled and his pain could be kept secret.

Even though the danger of emoting so openly is no longer present, the habit remains. Lucas is curled up as small as he can possibly make himself, chin propped on his forearm and tear-stained cheeks just perceptible in the thin light from the bedroom.

After a moment, Asher enters the closet, settling into the darkness with him. Sitting opposite him without a word. Dylan follows seconds later, joining them on the floor.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Asher leans into the final lines, vocals soft and conflicted.

Why does everybody love you? They don't know enough about you

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - CLOSET - NIGHT

It’s a cramped squeeze, three full-grown boys just on the cusp of adulthood, but they make it work. Lucas doesn’t complain. Although he doesn’t acknowledge their arrival, his lack of a response is more telling.

Do they know that I regret you? Do they know I shouldn't have to?

Dylan scoots closer and rests his head on Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas doesn’t push him away.

Even if they just sit in silence, with the two of them, there’s comfort in company.

EXT. NORTH HOLLYWOOD CAFE - NIGHT

Aleena is already waiting at a table outside the cafe when Yindra arrives, looking up from her phone when she sees her approach. She doesn’t get up to greet her -- not deferential by any means -- but she doesn’t seem antagonistic either.

Aleena: Hey. Yindra: Hi.

There’s no point in trying not to make this awkward. Aleena gestures for Yindra to sit if she pleases, which she does.

Yindra: So… you come to this place often? Aleena: Look, let’s not beat around the bush. All right? I’d rather just get it over with, if that’s cool with you.

Fair enough. Yindra nods, ceasing the stilted niceties. Aleena taps the tabletop with her nails, shaded a shimmery evergreen color.

Aleena: I’ve done some thinking about this whole thing. I assume you have too. Yindra: Yeah. Yeah, I have. Aleena: Cool. Mind if I say my piece first?

Yindra is already failing at the whole being assertive thing, as she nods without argument. God, where did her Adams diva bravado go? It’s like Los Angeles soaked it all up with the dry air…

Lucky for her, in this moment, it’s not such a bad thing.

Aleena: I’ll do the name change.

Wow. Not what she was expecting. Yindra fails to hide her surprise, eyebrows shooting up.

Yindra: Seriously? Just like that? Aleena: Just like that. [ crossing her arms ] I’ve just been thinking… did you look me up? After the retreat? Yindra: … no. I honestly was trying to block that whole thing out. Aleena: Valid. And TBH, impressive. I don’t know if I should consider you grounded and wise or self-concerned for not even contemplating digging into the competition. [ a beat ] Anyway, if you had tried to look me up, you may not have had a lot of luck. I have credits, but you wouldn’t have found them so easily from Googling.

She spins her phone around to show her current IMDb page, with her handful of credits. It’s her photo, recognizable enough, but that’s where the obvious similarity ends. The entry only has “Aleena Sayyid” buried in the biography section, usually after the “read more” if you’re on certain devices.

Instead, the page reads “Allie Sawyer.”

Aleena: I’ve been around here a bit longer than you. Already got half a foot in the door -- maybe a toe, if we’re being generous. But early on, like way early on, my first manager suggested I use this on my resume instead. Americanized nickname, nondescript surname. Used the same B.S. “stage name” phrasing, too, guaranteeing me it would get me more gigs. [ closing the app ] I don’t work with her anymore, obviously, but…

She’s already done this thing once. She made that strategic decision, and if she could, she’d take it back. So she’s not going to expect Yindra to start her career that way.

Yindra: You’re sure? I don’t think you should have to keep… severing your identity, or -- Aleena: I mean, I agree. Do I want to? No. But you heard the producer. One of us has to take one for the team to maintain both our odds. And hey, I’ve already done the legwork for them. I’m going to negotiate using my actual surname this time, considering no one ever mentions them when discussing girl group members anyway, but… [ with a shrug ] Besides, I tried to think of some, but there really is no good cutesy nickname for Yindra.

At that, Yindra can’t help but laugh. She should see the list they sent her.

Yindra: Well, thanks. For being willing to take this one. Aleena: It’s no biggie. If we both end up making this gig, hey, I’m sure there’ll be times you’ll be able to return the favor. And I’m not really into the whole cutthroat vibe, least of all with my fellow girls. Everyone else does enough of that for us. Yindra: Same. Yeah, that’s how I feel too.

Maybe they’re not too far off from an ally in the madness after all.

That is, provided they both make the cut…

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - GALA VENUE - NIGHT

Most of the fanfare for the evening has worn away, counting down the final minutes of the event until the finalists are announced. The crowd has transitioned into comfortable chatter and, fittingly, dancing, as the swing band keeps the night chugging along with their jazz renditions of popular and classic tunes.

Which means all there is left to do is wait. One of Vanessa’s least favorite things. She’s doing her best to remain calm, but her palms are starting to sweat, and she can’t shake the sensation that all eyes are on her even when they aren’t.

Thankfully, she isn’t there alone. Alexis returns from the restroom to Vanessa’s side, commenting cheerfully on whatever the song the band is currently in the middle of since she actually recognizes it. She notices the tension in her daughter’s features, so she tries to distract her.

Alexis: Will you spare a dance for your late-to-the-party mother? Show me how it’s done.

This isn’t exactly Vanessa’s preferred form of dance… but she’s trying. Vanessa manages a smile, sheepishly agreeing. She accepts her mom’s hand and lets her lead her more towards the center of the room, the two of them settling into an easy, loose sort of foxtrot. Alexis isn’t a natural, but she makes Vanessa laugh as she tries to walk her through the steps.

Alexis: So long as this makes you smile like that, then it’s gotta be worth it.

Finally, one of them is starting to get it. Vanessa’s smile brightens, albeit shyly.

If there’s someone who has even less patience than Vanessa, though, it’s Zay. On the opposite end of the hall, he’s getting restless, scanning the room for signs of movement towards the podium. He shuffles lightly on his feet subconsciously, dress shoes tapping against the hardwood, energy itching to get out somehow.

Charlie: You’re off tempo.

Zay jumps slightly, shaken out of his hyperfocus when Charlie rejoins him with a drink.

Zay: What? Charlie: [ nodding to his feet ] You’re a few steps too fast. This sounds like a ¾. You’re moving at like, a 5/4 -- to whatever amped up track you’ve got playing in your head.

Well… okay then, know-it-all. Notice everything about him, why don’t you? My, how the being-known-too-well turntables… Zay tries to act aloof, like he didn’t just read him like a Psalm, but it’s not very convincing. Charlie simply raises his eyebrows, taking a long sip of his water.

Zay: Oh, whatever. I’m fine. I’m chill. [ a beat ] Shut up.

Charlie almost chokes on his water from chuckling. Lucky for Zay, the band moves onto the next song -- unlucky for his case, it’s even slower than the last. Not doing his frantic energy any favors.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Maria” as performed by Canadian Brass || Instrumental

Once Charlie has made sure he isn’t going to spit up all over the banquet hall, he tosses his cup in the nearby trash bin and turns back to Zay.

Charlie: Let’s dance.

Now Zay is antsy for a different reason. Those words sound so uncanny, coming from him, when they used to be so painfully familiar. He stares at him.

Zay: Huh? Charlie: Let’s dance. It’ll give your feet something to do, and it’ll do you a lot better than just standing here locked up waiting for the inevitable. [ with a light nudge ] Don’t worry, I’ll keep us on the beat.

So he was serious. He emphasizes it a second later when he extends a hand, inviting Zay to take it.

He’s just doing it to distract him. He’s doing him a favor, being the best friend Zay knows he is. There’s no harm in it. Nothing to lose.

After a moment, Zay sighs, relenting and placing his hand in Charlie’s.

For all his theatrical resignation, internally Zay is having a very different experience. As he lets Charlie drag him by the hand onto the dance floor and pull him into a casual dance, his tension certainly isn’t ebbing. It’s just morphing into a different kind -- adrenaline from the surrealism, and a familiar tingle in his limbs he always gets when their hands touch. The one that makes him want to get closer, even in spite of the unavoidable dangers and guaranteed hurt.

That hurt seems less threatening now, though, when they’re swaying together in public. Where anyone can, and does, see them. When Charlie was the one who brought them here, who took the first step.

Charlie can tell Zay is still going down a rabbit hole in his head -- albeit a very different one than before -- so he gets him talking.

Charlie: What’s the worst that could happen?

Zay is on another planet mentally at the moment, so he takes a second to come back down to Earth.

Zay: What? Charlie: If you don’t get picked as a finalist.

Right. That thing. Zay lightly shakes his head, both to dissuade the notion and to shake off the daze of being so unexpectedly close to him again. They’re not even that close, actually, a comfortable, friendly amount of space between them, but even that is leagues more than they’ve been in the last few months.

Charlie: If somehow, against all odds and probability, you don’t get in. Would that really be so terrible? Zay: Wow, your confidence is really inspiring. What are you trying to brace me for? What insider knowledge do you have that I don’t? Charlie: [ with an eye roll ] You know I have nothing but confidence in you. I’m just trying to give the wait less power. Zay: Is that therapy talk? It sounds like Matthews-level counselor drivel. Charlie: Maybe. It’s at least psychological. I read about it this summer -- Zay: Of course you did. Charlie: But it makes sense. You know, rationalizing the catastrophizing before it can do it on its own. And the thing is, it actually works. As in, things are always way worse in your head, before something actually happens, than it is in reality. [ a beat ] I mean, I had what I thought was one of my worst nightmares come true --

The Eleanor of it all. Zay frowns slightly, but it’s a good sign that Charlie is even acknowledging it.

Charlie: And the sky didn’t collapse on me. I’m still standing. Life is going on. [ with a shrug ] Wonder if I had known that, years ago…

If it all would’ve been so hard. If he would’ve been so paralyzed. As opposed to now, where it aches, but he knows he’ll survive. He can dance with his best friend in public, hands touching and pretenses dropped, and not have to tie himself up in knots about it.

Charlie: So if tonight doesn’t go the way you want, God forbid, will it really be so bad? What’s the worst that could happen? Zay: Well, I’d never be able to show my face in this neighborhood again. Charlie: And would that be such a problem? There’s a lot of neighborhoods in New York. Zay: That’s true. And it wouldn’t be too much of a loss -- [ lowering his voice ] between us, half of the people here are insufferable.

Charlie laughs, shaking his head.

Zay: But okay, fair enough. I take your point. [ a beat ] I suppose if this method works well enough to get you dancing in public again, then it’s a noble effort. Charlie: Well, I mean, how could we not? It’s West Side Story. Who am I to pass up the chance to dance with the Riff-slash-understudy-Tony of Off-Broadway fame? To “Maria” of all songs? Zay: Please. And I don’t know if you can boast about that, considering you didn’t even see me in the role. Charlie: What? Of course I did.

Um, hold up. Zay blinks, confused.

Zay: You weren’t there. I never saw you. And my Tony night, Clarissa said -- Charlie: I saw you, Zay. I saw it more than once. You seriously think I would’ve missed it?

Yes, he may have left the Tony night a bit early, but he didn’t skip it. He wouldn’t have missed Zay’s debut for anything -- regardless of what state the two of them were in.

Always full of surprises. Always cheering him on, albeit quietly; always there even when Zay couldn’t see him. So bewildering, so unpredictable, so effortlessly kind and damningly Charlie.

Suddenly, being this close feels precarious again. But not in the way it used to. Zay clears his throat.

Zay: Well, in that case, fuck you. The least you could’ve done would be show your face so I could begrudgingly thank you. Charlie: Even when you were pissed at me? Zay: Especially then. [ off his grin ] Plus, if I had known you were there, I could’ve done even better just to spite you. Charlie: Oh, wow. Didn’t realize you were capable of doing better. Don’t tell me you were holding back because of me? Zay: It’s a very special effect you have. Whether for the boost, or so I know who to blame for throwing me off.

Charlie rolls his eyes. But Zay’s just bluster now, trying to cover for how his heart is pounding. He hopes Charlie can’t feel it through his hands. Or just from their proximity, as they do seem to have magically drifted closer together… very normally and casually…

Zay: Case in point, I like knowing you’re there. Charlie: As the scapegoat. Got it. Zay: Or the opposite… Charlie: “Good luck charm?” Zay: Something like that. [ with an exhale ] Let’s hope it worked.

The clock is ticking down, after all, as effective as this distraction is…

Charlie: I meant to ask you about that, actually. I didn’t get to, since I had to bolt, but I was wondering how you came up with your answers to the interview questions. Zay: What, like, how much time I spend rehearsing? It’s pretty easy. I use this thing called a clock that has the time on it -- Charlie: Not that part. Bastard. [ off his cheeky beam ] The personalized question, when Professor Gao asked you about what you think is most important for a dancer. And you said support. Zay: … was that a bad answer? Charlie: No. No, it was perfect. It was right, and you said it all… just, totally right. At least, in my opinion. Zay: You’re biased, but I’ll take it. Thanks. Charlie: But I was wondering where that came from. Because I don’t think I would’ve ever come up with something like that. Let alone on the spot. It did exactly what it needed to do, and spoke so well to who you are, but I was just curious how you landed on that response. Like, did you practice potential questions beforehand, or --

Zay hesitates, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Not because he doesn’t know how to answer, but because he knows exactly how, and the answer is currently in his hands and perilously close.

Just his luck, he’s given a pass. They’re pulled out of their conversation when Professor Gao herself takes the stage, approaching the microphone and instantly commanding attentive quiet. All of them have been waiting for her.

The atmosphere in the room takes on a definite shift. Both Vanessa and Zay immediately stop what they’re doing, turning to face the stage.

Rosario: Good evening, everyone. I hope you’ve enjoyed this celebration of all your hard work, and another year of study and performance at Turner Academy. [ pausing for applause ] It is my honor to announce the three finalists from the transfer cohort. There was plenty of fierce competition this year, and everyone who persevered through the last two semesters has demonstrated strong discipline and ability. I have no doubt that all of you will find success wherever your path takes you, and hope that you’re proud of what you’ve already accomplished.

Which is a nice way of saying thanks, but best of luck anywhere but here. Only three of them are allowed to proceed. You could hear a pin drop in that banquet hall.

Rosario: Without further ado, I extend my warm congratulations to…

Alexis holds her breath, clasping her hands together in front of her. Vanessa is glad she doesn’t try to comfort her -- she doesn’t think she could stomach touch right now.

Rosario: Georgia Valdez --

Oh, of course. GIA VALDEZ erupts into enthusiastic squeals, earning applause from some upperclassmen she’s befriended and accepting a twirl hug from her boyfriend. Yeah, guess that little strategic break-up of hers didn’t last long -- if it was ever real at all and not just an elaborate mind game.

Anyway, two to go. Rosario continues without waiting for Gia to finish her victory dance. Next…

Rosario: Vanessa Johnson.

It’s real. She said her name. Vanessa is speechless, only breaking into a breathless smile when her mother excitedly braces her shoulders from behind her. That’s her! She made it!

Zay watches Vanessa’s moment of relief, trying not to feel jealous. He knows she earned this chance. He swallows his nerves, looking away from her and back towards Gao while trying to remember how to breathe.

He stops breathing regardless when he feels Charlie’s hand find his again, stilling his trembling fingers and squeezing them reassuringly. Zay glances down at them, then back up at him, once again caught off-guard by the casual intimacy.

Charlie isn’t looking at him though. He’s glued to the stage, also holding his breath as Gao prepares to reveal the last finalist. Only one more…

It’s a second that feels like a lifetime. Then, she speaks.

Rosario: And Isaiah Babineaux.

There it is. He’s still in this. He’s still got his shot.

Zay feels all the cold drain from his body, exhaling in relief as Charlie turns and excitedly jostles his shoulder. For a second, it looks like he might go for an embrace -- and Zay would have no complaints about that -- but Henrik beats him to it, rushing over and barreling into Zay from behind with a triumphant hug and lifting him off the ground.

Rosario concludes by explaining that these three finalists will enter into final deliberations amidst the Turner faculty as they weigh which two will be members of the sophomore class as transfers. They will find out by the end of the semester. In the meantime, she sincerely wishes all of her students the best in all of their future endeavors.

So the competition isn’t quite over yet. Zay and Vanessa catch each other’s eye from across the room in the midst of their mini circles of celebration, tacitly acknowledging that reality.

Hopefully, at the end of all this, they’ll both end up exactly where they need to be.

Isa, pre-lap: Let’s go, cheers bitch!

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley and Isa are having a celebration of their own as promised, raising their drinks. They’re cozy on opposite ends of the couch in their PJs and each nursing a wine bottle of their own, very happily getting wine drunk. No better way to end a mindfuck of a day.

Riley: Mm, say that. Eternal rest for the wicked. Isa: So not sorry for the loss. Riley: Sayonara. Isa: Ding dong, the bitch is dead!

Both of them erupt into cackles, knocking their bottles together and then knocking back another swig. Even with her palpable gratitude that Kenneth is finally out of their lives, the polite side of Riley is putting up a good fight despite the alcohol.

Riley: I agree. To be clear. But is it fucked for us to be cheering someone’s death? Isa: Absolutely the fuck not. He doesn’t deserve that much humanizing. He was a monster. Riley: Touché. You’re so very right and correct and have never said a wrong thing in your life. Don’t let me second guess that ever again. Isa: This is righteous revelry. Enjoy it. I wish the fucker had dropped dead sooner. Riley: Amen. Rest in pieces, evil man.

Preach. Neither of them would’ve ever said this in public earlier, out of respect for others -- well, Isa may have at a push -- but here in the safe space of just the two of them, all bets are off. They can be honest, and the honest truth is, Kenneth deserves none of their sympathy.

After another sip from her wine, Riley admits that she is so relieved. Like, she was expecting most of how they feel about it, but she didn’t expect how liberating this feels.

Riley: I know it’s silly, because it’s not like it was my… I wasn’t the one trapped in it. I hope Grace and Lucas feel the same way, they deserve it way more than I do. Isa: It’s fresh now, but they will. Riley: But it was… it was really hard. Watching Lucas go through this. [ a beat ] I mean, obviously it was hard before, too. When it was just bad, end of sentence. But all the confusion, and the grief, and seeing Lucas trying to balance it all… and he really, really was trying… it hurt. It physically hurt, like, I felt it in my chest. Every single day.

She feels like she’s not making much sense, but in her drunken state, the words are just begging to be said. Isa nods along, sympathetic. Although there’s a slight slur to her delivery, it’s crystal clear how genuine Riley’s emotion is.

Riley: I just… [ almost pained ] I love him. So much. And if I could’ve spared him all this, if I could’ve taken that pain, I would’ve done it in a second. I’d do anything. Isa: I know. I know you would. Riley: I love him. I fucking love him. [ getting choked up ] And it’s so stupid how like, everyone was getting on my case about how I had focus elsewhere, how I wanted to be there for him rather than in the musical. I get that it’s a commitment, but like, sorry not sorry, being there for someone I love in a difficult time is always going to be more important than putting on a silly show? Maybe that makes me a bad theater kid or whatever, but it’s the truth. There are more important things in life than a fucking musical. Isa: Cheers, I’ll drink to that. Riley: I know I’m lucky to have gotten the role I did, and I’ve had fun with it. But this was like… it’s a no-fucking-brainer. I wanted to be there for Lucas. I know what my priorities are. And I’m not gonna apologize for that. [ a beat ] The truth is, like… NYU has always been a question mark. I wasn’t even gonna get in at first, with the waitlist and everything, and even being there and doing this year and having a fine time with it… it’s not a must. I’m not like gripped with conviction that this is where I’m supposed to be.

Isa raises their eyebrows, surprised. This is the first they’re hearing of this, even though Riley has clearly been contemplating it for a while. For all the uncertainty she has about NYU, though, one thing has never given her pause.

Riley: That’s not how it is with Lucas. Lucas is not a question mark to me. I know what we are, how I feel, what we’re meant to be. It’s good; it’s right. He is the thing I am most certain about, and way, way more important than a starring role.

Or being at the prestigious Tisch school for that matter… which is why, more and more, she’s been thinking about next year. Where she’ll end up. She hasn’t brought it up to Lucas yet, but…

Riley: I want to be with him. I love him, and he’s my conviction. The rest, I can figure out as I go. [ with tipsy fortitude ] I want to go to California with him.

The whole confession slips out unprompted and unpolished, spurred by the emotion of the day and the slippery slope of wine. Isa processes that, the enormous change Riley just spoke into possibility.

Riley eventually seems to recognize the bomb she just dropped. She frowns, already preemptively doing damage control.

Riley: Shit. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you. I’m not -- I didn’t think it through. Isa, I didn’t mean to just -- Isa: No. No, you’re… you’re good. It’s… good.

… it is? Riley is apprehensive, surprised by Isa’s measured response.

Riley: You think so? [ a beat ] It’s not that I’d want to leave you, or this situation. I love this situation. I just -- Isa: Belong with Lucas. No, yeah. I get it. [ with a shrug ] Maybe it’s the alcohol totally numbing me out, or something, but I get it. I was a little shocked, but then I thought about it as you were saying it, and it just kinda clicked. Like, oh, no duh, you should be where Lucas is. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Why would I have a problem with that?

Obviously, there’s a lot to figure out on both their parts if this ends up being the case, but Isa isn’t upset. Not in the slightest. Somehow, in spite of their track record and instinctive reluctance towards change, their brain has no trouble processing this one.

It’s Riley and Lucas. It’s meant to be. Who are they to argue that?

Riley: Okay… okay. Thanks. Isa: For sure. I’ll probably have a freak out about it later when I’m sober, but I swear, I’ll be fine. I will get over it. Don’t let me convince you otherwise. I’m good. [ more serious ] You and Lucas are good for each other. You have made him better in more ways than I can count. And the way you feel about each other… like, I don’t know shit about anything as we know, but it’s real. I know it is. I don’t have to understand it to see it. Fact is, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And he knows it.

Riley smiles, touched and a bit teary.

Riley: It’s mutual. Isa: I know, and that’s the even crazier part. But that’s why it makes sense. You two are just… yeah. That’s how it is. [ a beat ] And like, I know Lucas is tough. He’s been through a lot, and he’s made of steel, and I’d fight anyone who claims otherwise. But if you weren’t here… I don’t know if he could’ve done it. Gotten through this whole thing. I don’t think he would’ve endured it without you.

It was challenging enough even with her there. But thankfully, finally, it’s over. They can move on; they can move forward. Riley and Isa raise their drinks in another toast.

To the ones still standing…

[ ← Last (Part 1, half 2) ] [ 411 Hub ] [ Next (Part 2, half 2) → ]

#411

0 notes

ambitionsource · 2 years ago

Text

AMBITION “Living Memory” [ 4.11 ]♮PART 2, half 2

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Liezel is seated at the kitchen table, organizing a recipe binder. She lifts her gaze when Nigel timidly enters the room, sitting up straighter when she realizes it’s him. It’s the first time in days that he’s seemed remotely interested in acknowledging her.

Nigel: Do you have a minute? Could we talk?

Although she’s nervous, Liezel nods, offering a shy smile.

Liezel: Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.

Nigel mirrors the tentative smile, coming fully into the kitchen. He joins her at the table, sitting at the other end of the corner she’s against. For a moment, they’re silent, neither of them quite sure how to initiate. In Nigel’s whole life, they have almost never found themselves at odds like this.

Nigel: I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I’ve been disrespectful. Liezel: Thank you. I am glad we’re speaking now. And I am sorry that I have made you feel that you needed to act that way.

Nigel nods. That covers the basics, so they could just end it there… let bygones be bygones…

But Nigel doesn’t want a surface bandage. He wants it to actually heal. He clears his throat.

Nigel: I know I caught you off-guard, and that wasn’t fair to you. But the way you responded… Liezel: I know. I know, Nigel. Nigel: The arts aren’t your thing, and I get that. But you’ve always -- I always felt like you got me. That you supported what I was trying to do. Only the way you reacted about the UK, and some of the things you said -- Liezel: I know -- Nigel: Do you really not think I could do it? Are you always comparing me to my friends? Liezel: No. No, it isn’t that. And I should not have brought up Zay, I am sorry. When I said that, I wasn’t speaking on your ability. Nigel: Then why would you say that? Liezel: Because Zay Babineaux is not my child. Your friend is very talented, but whatever he achieves, or ends up going or doing -- that is of no concern to me. It is not my business. If he wants to transfer away, or travel the world, that has no impact on me. [ a beat ] You, on the other hand…

He is one of her babies. No matter how talented she thinks he is or isn’t, her urge to protect him will always be far stronger. It’s easy to loosen the reigns a bit and let him pursue a risky career when where he’s doing it is just down the street. The other side of the Atlantic, however…

Liezel: It’s not that I don’t trust in you, anak. It’s the world I don’t trust.

Nigel can’t change that. Neither of them can magically make the world a more promising place, or provide guarantees that all will work out how they want it. He can’t ease her worries; she can’t force him to stay. But if the opposite result is this, feeling a thousand miles apart even when they’re under the same roof…

Liezel: I didn’t realize that you were so unhappy. With your schooling. Nigel: I didn’t either, for a while. I tried to make it work, but… I think I need to see this idea through. I need to change. Liezel: [ with a teary nod ] It will be difficult for me. To accept that, and to get used to it. And just like NYU, we cannot give you as much assistance as we’d like. If you want to make this jump -- Nigel: I’ll have to make it happen on my own. I know. I figured as much. Liezel: I am sorry about that. But I do believe you can do it, if you set your brilliant mind to it. [ a beat ] And if you do…

Then who is she to stand in his way? She wishes he could be close forever, but it’s only because she loves him. And because she loves him, she has to be willing to set him free -- to let him spread his wings and soar on his own.

Nigel reaches across the table and takes her hand, which she eagerly squeezes in return.

Nigel: [ in Tagalog ] I love you, mama. I’ll earn your faith in me. Liezel: You don’t need to prove it.

It’s already his. Nigel beams, shaky with relief, and Liezel returns it.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - RECEPTION HALL - NIGHT

All of the guests have finally filed out, leaving just Jack, Eric, and Grace to clean up. She states more than once that the two of them don’t need to help, since this is far from their responsibility, but they insist.

Jack: We really don’t mind. Eric: Agreed. Not to mention it just seems ridiculous to fathom leaving you here alone. I wouldn’t leave any woman alone in this city at night. Jack: Make sure you get to your car safely. Eric: Yeah, and I’ll be fighting the urge to drive home behind you and make sure you get back to your front door. Jack: He’s not kidding. Compulsive caretaking. It’s a counselor thing.

Grace smiles, slightly awkward but undeniably charmed by their banter. It’s interesting to see them interact, to watch two adults connect so naturally with one another. Certainly not a feeling she’s personally familiar with…

Speaking of avoiding danger, Eric claims he’ll be the one to run the trash out to the bins. Grace doesn’t argue, allowing him to take the bag from her hands. Moments later, he’s on the move, leaving her and Jack alone in the reception hall.

Quiet settles between the two of them. Jack offers her a polite smile, which she returns. Sensing the need to fill the silence, Grace speaks.

Grace: Thanks again for everything. All the help you gave us through this. With the arrangements, and now… it’s just been a nice relief. Jack: Of course. Any time. Grace: Eric, too. I know he doesn’t -- he doesn’t have the same relationship with Lucas that you do. So he doesn’t have a reason… but he still did. I appreciate that more than I can say. Jack: It’s not the same, no, but he’s still family. Our whole group dynamic is… interesting, to say the least, but Eric cares for him just as much as I do. And we’ll always be there to help whenever we can. [ with a smile ] Like I said, with him it comes naturally. Me, not so much -- and Lucas has called me on that frequently, believe me. But Eric has always been a caregiver. It’s in his blood.

It certainly is -- in a way it never has been for Grace. Jack’s comment is innocent, affectionate, but it has an unexpected impact. Like a trigger, something in Grace clicks off… and she can’t hold it together anymore. She turns away from Jack and tries to hide it, but suddenly she’s crying, the tears slipping down her cheeks faster than she can wipe them away.

She managed not to shed any the entirety of the funeral, and with one little comment, her resolve crumbles. Jack quickly recognizes her emotional shift, growing uncomfortable for a moment before doing his best to do damage control.

Jack: I’m sorry. Did I say something -- I didn’t mean to upset you. Grace: No, no. You didn’t. It’s not -- [ with an incredulous laugh ] All the chances to cry today, and this is what --

She huffs, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She takes a deep breath to try to compose herself, Jack waiting patiently and giving her space. Once she’s had a second to collect herself, she turns back slightly to face him, but keeps her gaze to the floor.

Grace: That was never me. I could never do that. The caring… that… instinct. I don’t have it. I didn’t. I’ve been a shitty mother, all the way through. I wasn’t one, really. Lucas knew that. [ with a shaky breath ] He’s always had to be the strong one. To be ready to be leaned on. Even today, he had to be here for me, and… I hate that. I hated that. He’s had to do so much on his own, do so much for me, and I never gave it back.

This confession feels more sorrowful than all the mourning. It’s a different kind of grief, far more palpable -- the loss of the functional family they never truly had. The ideal dynamic they would never achieve.

Grace: I couldn’t -- I could never give him what he needed. What he deserved. I mean, I didn’t -- [ choking on it ] I didn’t even want him. That didn’t change. And he knows that. I know he knows it. He deserved real parents, good ones, but instead he got -- and we were stuck with… and now it’s all just…

Now they’re here. Perhaps out of the woods, in some form, but just at the start of recovering. Barely one foot on the road to healing. Healing that feels impossible, with all this guilt and regret heavy on her shoulders.

Grace: I’m not a mother, but he’s a son. He didn’t get the choice not to be.

Jack sympathizes, even though he doesn’t personally understand the depth of it. He has his own complicated family dynamics, but nothing so complex as the Friars. But there is one difference he can speak to, that he tries to extend as a fraction of comfort.

Jack: I know what you mean. About… it’s hard to process. When my father passed away -- I mean, he was no Kenneth, but he was… a serious piece of work. Not to mention for most of my life, he was rarely around. Pros and cons to that, I suppose. But it’s okay for it to be complicated. It’s okay for it to take time.

Grace exhales, pressing her hands to her eyes. While she collects herself, Jack continues.

Jack: Maybe you weren’t the parent you thought you should be. Maybe you weren’t what Lucas wanted, or needed. You can’t change that now. That’s just… the fuck of it, life, and there isn’t anything we can do about it. But you did one thing right. Grace, skeptical: What? Jack: You were there. You stayed. Even if you weren’t at your best, or didn’t know what to do. Maybe it wasn’t… mother and son perfection, but you had each other. He knew you were there. That fact, to know that you’re not alone, is more important than you think.

Grace swallows a sob, pulling herself together and screwing her eyes shut. Trying to find her balance again, to let Jack’s words actually offer some comfort.

She’s not a mother, and she never will be. But she did what she could. She’s doing what she can now.

Jack: And you can’t beat yourself up over it forever. Life is too short -- surely today is reminder of that more than anything. It’s okay to forgive yourself, and stop holding it all against you. [ softly ] I know Lucas doesn’t anymore.

Jack would know, as he’s always gotten more from Lucas than she or Kenneth ever did. If he claims he’s forgiven her, that there’s no more anger, then he has to be telling the truth. Grace inhales a deep breath, then nods, offering Jack a watery smile.

Eric returns, gracefully ending the heavy moment and bringing some levity back into the space. Grace gently flicks the remaining tears away as Eric saunters back in, asking if they’re all good to head out.

Eric: Hopefully yes, because we’ll want to hit the road ASAP. It’s feeling like rain again.

INT. ZAY’S CAR - NIGHT

Charlie and Zay are doing just that, pulling up to the curb opposite Charlie’s building to drop him off.

It’s a process that feels hauntingly familiar. Zay behind the wheel, Charlie at ease in the passenger seat, thoughtful silence filling the empty space save for the nearly muted car radio. A routine they’ve danced what feels like a thousand times, with dozens of different conclusions.

And like usual, it feels wrong to let it end. Although Zay puts the car in park, and there’s nothing left to say but goodbye, neither of them make any move to get going. Zay glances at Charlie, then restlessly averts his gaze back out the dashboard window; Charlie keeps his gaze northward towards Central Park, the typical features of deep thought subtle on his face.

Zay: Well. Guess that’s that, then. Yet another insane development in this insane career path I’ve somehow convinced myself is a good idea. And with just about as much clarity as usual. Charlie: You’re one of the finalists. That’s good news. Zay: Yeah. I know. [ a beat ] I’m just like, do we really need to go through another round of waiting? I fucking hate waiting. Not to mention, again, it is so dramatic. Like, could they make this any more needlessly suspenseful? Charlie: Oh, come on. You know you kind of love it.

Charlie tilts his head to give him a look, seeing right through his bluster. Light smirk on his lips, tone effortlessly fond.

Because he knows him too well. Feels like he always has. Zay stares at him for a moment, out of practice with his easy banter but flushed with the realization of how much he missed it. For a moment, just a second, glancing at those lips…

Then he scoffs, shrugging and looking away.

Zay: Maybe. [ a beat, then defensive ] I’m just saying, I don’t remember when I agreed to getting edged by my fucking college.

Charlie’s smirk blooms into a grin. He shakes his head, amused, then lets it rest back against the headrest.

Quiet reigns again… at this rate, they might just sit there all night… Zay takes the opportunity while Charlie’s eyes are elsewhere to take him in, still surreal to see him in the passenger seat again. Different than before, but not for worse. New in necessary ways, but the same in every manner that matters.

And although every piece of him doesn’t want it to end, it must. The past is the past, and in the present, he doesn’t trust himself to be wise if he lets Charlie sit in his passenger seat much longer.

Zay: Well, anyway. Thanks for putting up with another shitshow. [ a beat ] I know you probably need to go, so -- Charlie: Do you wanna go for a walk?

For all that might be new, Charlie hasn’t lost his knack for subverting Zay’s expectations. The idea comes out of nowhere, chipper in that way Charlie gets sometimes where he follows his whims rather than common sense. It’s so random, Zay can’t help but stare in disbelief -- doubly so when Charlie turns his green eyes back on him.

Zay: Huh? Charlie: Do you wanna walk? I could go for a walk. Stretch my legs. Get some fresh air. Zay, bluntly: It’s almost eleven. And it’s supposed to rain. Charlie: And? [ with a twinkle in those eyes ] Don’t wait up.

If he wants to go, no big deal, but Charlie is taking a walk. He unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car, leaving the agency to follow in Zay’s corner.

Zay continues to gape at him, watching him go. He scoffs again, shaking his head in bewildered wonder…

Zay: [ under his breath ] Fucking hell.

He unbuckles his own seatbelt, killing the engine and climbing out of the car.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isa crashes onto their bed, makeup messy and hair messier. They’ve got a killer headache, not only caused by the alcohol, but the general stress of this hellish week. From this absolutely downer ending, to the even crazier start.

Though, suppose it wasn’t all hellish…

Too much to think about. They squeeze their eyes shut and rub their temples, trying to see if they can will it all away. The headache; the everything else.

No dice. It’s not going anywhere. After a moment, they let their hands fall onto the bed and open their eyes with a sigh.

The emotions swirling around inside them aren’t going anywhere. They turn onto their side and stare at the space next to them. The space where, only a few nights ago and in a different bed, they could see Farkle laying next to them. See the rise and fall of his chest, hear his occasional soft snores (of course he’d be noisy even in rest)... reach out and run their hand through his hair, like it was always that easy…

Too much. Too much, too much, too much. They flop back onto their back and close their eyes again. It’s unsettling, feeling this much. It was rough when it was stuffed down, sure, but at least they could ignore it. They could pretend they had any control over anything, that they were stronger than their emotions. The tipsy, free-wheeling quality of their brain right now doesn’t help.

Don’t think about Farkle. Don’t think about Farkle. Don’t think…

Fuck it. It’s too late. Farkle isn’t going anywhere either. He’s engraved onto their mind, and no feeble distraction will erase him. The thoughts of him; the desire to touch him, to feel his body pressed against theirs. Isa fears nothing will ever replace that desire -- nothing will ever feel as good as when they were together. It’s scary, giving that much power and influence over to someone else.

But is it truly a bad thing?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shameless” as performed by Camila Cabello || Performed by Isa De La Cruz

The guitar strums bring us into the performance, Isa opening their eyes and singing with a blank look as they stare up at the ceiling. They sit up and look back at the space beside them, where an imaginary Farkle once appeared to them and forced them to reconcile their emotions once before.

And now, he’s back again. Easy, knowing smile on his face. Just as comfortable as before, only updated in design to match how he is now -- no longer a remnant of the past, but a reminder of the very real present. A real and present desire; a real and pleasant danger.

In my dreams, I do anything I want to you My emotions are naked, they’re taking me out of my mind

Isa gets up and leaves the room, trying to get away from the mirage of Farkle before they can get too familiar with its presence.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

But he won’t just disappear. Isa passes by images of Farkle sitting on the couch eating pizza, loading the dishwasher in the kitchen, taking his shoes off at the door… he’s everywhere. As if he’s already embedded into their life -- the way they think they might want it. Isa hops out of the way when one of the Farkles walks past them, trying to keep out of his eyeline.

They turn around and are faced with Farkle laughing, his eyes bright and smile wide. Isa freezes, unsure how to respond to the warmth the sight creates in them.

They rush to the door.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Isa stumbles out of the apartment building and onto the streets. They take a deep breath, trying to find their balance. One foot in front of the another, just like routine…

But before long, the obsession creeps back up on them. The faces of everybody walking by morph into Farkle’s, at first just a confusing glimpse -- then more consistent. Overwhelming, anxiety-driven thoughts bubble up whenever they see him, and whichever way they look, there he is, reminding them. Here, there, and everywhere.

It’s all there, now it’s real Now that you have me, do you want me still?

They slow their fast, frantic walking after a few more lines, though, the panic starting to calm as acceptance settles in. What are they really running from, actually? Do they want to flee this?

And I won’t erase it I need you more than I want to

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Isa reaches one of the shops that Farkle took them to when teaching them how to be rich back in senior year. They see the reflection of their younger selves in the window, wistful and reminiscent…

And when they look ahead of them again, present Farkle is back. He doesn’t look like an apparition, or a mutated version of a passerby. He’s just Farkle. The one they feel a magnetic pull towards, that’s reeling them in right now.

Distance, inches in between us I want you to give in, I want you to give in, oh

The one they know -- the one they know they love.

Isa looks up at Farkle in defiance, challenging him to take the next step, as he did to them. But he remains stalwart, teasingly resilient. Bizarrely put together these days when Isa has always relied on him being equally unhinged.

Weakness, tension in between us I just wanna give in…

Unable to take the tension anymore, Isa surrenders. They stand up on their tiptoes and pull Farkle down to meet their lips.

And I don’t care if I’m forgiven

They kiss with just as much passion and intensity as their first, the camera rotating around to capture it. It picks up speed as it goes, dizzying, mirroring the whirlwind effect of finally breaking that tension…

When they break apart, for a moment, they just look at each other. Then Farkle grins.

Isa grabs Farkle’s hand, dragging him along and running with him. Keeping stride together this time, rather than running in opposite directions. While Farkle maintains direction, looking ahead at where they’re racing, Isa keeps getting distracted and letting their gaze drift back to him instead.

Right now I’m shameless Screamin’ my lungs out for ya

The faster everything seems to move, the more Isa struggles to keep up. They keep tripping up as they dodge the people around them, while Farkle remains focused on moving forward. To avoid a complete wipeout, Isa slows down --

And Farkle’s hand slips out of theirs. He looks back, confused, but the crowd of people on the streets sweep him away. Isa screams after him, left behind in the chaos, their hand still outstretched.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

In a blink, we’re back in their bedroom, Isa still sitting on their bed. Looking at where Farkle should be, their hand instinctively outstretched. They blink, stunned, unable to hold back the tears that slip past their best defenses.

They have him, but they could lose him again. It could be all too easy.

Unless they say the things they need to say. What Farkle needs to know.

Upset, overwhelmed, and confused, Isa does the only thing that makes sense in that moment. The only thing their addled brain can think to do.

They get out their phone.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Maria” as performed by Canadian Brass || Instrumental

The West Side Story orchestra from earlier echoes as an underscore as the scene progresses, floating over the peaceful evening. Zay and Charlie meander their way back down the street towards his building, laughter bubbling between the two of them as they wrap up whatever conversation they were having on their late-night traipse through Central Park. Silly and insane as the suggestion was, it seems to have loosened them up. A sensation Zay can appreciate, given how tense the entire night has been.

Even in spite of the weather. As they’ve been walking, it’s started to mist, the gentle warning of a promised storm.

They arrive a few feet away from his front steps, slowing to a stop with their hands in their pockets. Just a couple of pals, standing in their nice dress wear in the middle of a sidewalk after eleven. Classic.

Charlie: Well, thanks for the ride. Or walking me home, technically, I guess. Zay: Only because you’re a basket case. Seriously, when did you pick up this funky little habit of dancing around in the rain? How do you not have like, chronic pneumonia?

Charlie shrugs. Guilty as charged.

Charlie: It’s just a drizzle. Zay: Anyway, I wasn’t going to let you wander around the park at night by yourself. For real, what happened to the guy who was terrified of taking the subway by himself at like six at night? Is that paranoid, self-preserving man in the room with us?

At that, Charlie snorts.

Charlie: I think we should be glad “that guy” stopped being afraid of everything that moved. [ with another shrug ] I guess he grew up.

Yeah… yeah, he did, didn’t he? That’s been the feeling all night, this strange echo haunting them. It’s not mournful, though, or unsettling. It’s just… different. Different, but the same. A ghost that never died; a living memory.

Whichever time feels more prominent, it doesn’t make it any easier for Zay to look away from him. Charlie has to break the spell, clearing his throat and reiterating his gratitude for the favor.

Zay: It’s the least I could do, given everything I’ve dragged you along to in the last month. All of that mutual support bullshit. Charlie: Ah, right. The foundation of any good dancer.

Zay offers a shrug of his own, going for breezy.

Zay: What are friends for?

Yes… friends… right, right. As if to accent the point, thunder rumbles above them in the distance, signaling that rain is coming any minute now. It’s probably time to say goodbye, share their goodnights, before the downpour.

Still, neither of them move.

Charlie: You never finished telling me about that, by the way. Zay: About what? Charlie: Your audition speech. Successful audition speech, might I add. Zay: Oh, yeah. Well… you know. I just made something up. Talked out of my ass, like I always do. Charlie: [ not buying it ] Well, even if that’s the case, it worked. Finalist.

For now. Still one more hill to climb before he knows where he’ll be… Charlie still assumes there must be some deeper well of inspiration that Zay was pulling from, because he highly doubts he just pulled something that meaningful out of nowhere.

Charlie: You act like you don’t think about this kind of stuff that deeply -- Zay: Not everyone is like you. Charlie: No one is, I’m aware. I have problems. But you have your moments. Especially when it’s about the stuff that matters -- when it really counts.

Charlie would know -- he was on the receiving end of plenty of his most thoughtful moments. Zay can’t brush him off so easily.

For a fleeting moment, Zay debates telling the truth. Confessing exactly what it was that made his whole world’s foundation so simple to define; who taught him the living, breathing definition of unconditional support in the first place. How he’s looking right at him, feeling all the same things that struck him like lighting on the stage in the middle of his post-audition interview.

But that’s not how things are. They’ve grown up; time has marched on without him.

So he swallows the longing and offers the best alternative he can scrounge together.

Zay: I’m just… really trying to appreciate the people I’m lucky to have in my life. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.

Not the whole story, but a good one. A half-truth. The eye contact between them feels loaded, even if neither of them will put it into words.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah… me too.

It’s like a strange game of chicken. Wondering which one of them might break first -- if either of them even realize they’re playing.

They might just stand there and stare at each other forever, but the first drop of rain disrupts the static and brings them back to reality. It’s not really falling yet, but any minute now…

Charlie blinks up at the sky then offers Zay a smile, reluctantly claiming he should get inside. Spare him the bad weather.

Zay: Yeah, for sure. Thanks again for coming. Charlie: Of course. Any time.

There’s no doubt he means it. Zay mirrors his smile, restless on his feet. Gripped with the sense that it’s wrong to just leave it like that, that as best friends they surely could exchange something more than a stilted peace out.

So he offers a hand, at least extending an offer of something more. Charlie laughs awkwardly and takes it, turning it into something more like a high-five.

And then it’s a hug. Neither one could say who started it, or how it became one, but once they drift even incrementally in that direction they fall together like dominos. Their bodies just naturally come together, responding to their own personal magnetism.

And though the hug starts casual, friendly, it lingers far too long to be just that. While they’re so close, wrapped in a warm embrace so achingly familiar yet damningly rare, there’s no reason to pretend. Even though they can’t see it, the perfect place to hide in each other’s shoulders, we can see it plain as day. The way their expressions shift, muscles relaxing and nerves tingling all at once. Both of them closing their eyes and letting it linger, both excusing it just enough to absorb whatever they can get.

When they finally start to pull back, they don’t get very far. For a brief, torturous second, they stop a little too close for casual comfort, noses nearly brushing. Only centimeters apart, once again finding themselves trapped in an all too familiar dance…

Until the universe intervenes. The rain becomes difficult to ignore, sprinkling their jackets as it starts to fall in consistent drops. They pull apart fully as Zay cusses under his breath, both of them glancing up at the rain as if that’ll make it go away.

It doesn’t. The rain continues on undeterred, so Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: Okay, well. I’ll let you go. Zay: Right. Thanks again. Charlie: Yeah. [ starting to walk away ] See you later. Zay: Yep. For sure.

Charlie smiles, letting that promise be his final offering as he turns and heads up the steps to his building. Zay watches him go, in no rush to get back to his car in spite of how his usual instincts would have him bolting at the first drop of rain. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for.

Well, that part of Zay is stupid, whatever it is. It can’t seem to get the memo from reality. The past is the past -- this is how things are now. Time moved on. He has to be okay with that. Both of them do.

Charlie makes it to his front door, glancing back over his shoulder one more time. When he sees Zay is still there, he smiles brighter, a hint of shyness back in his features.

Then he disappears into the lobby, leaving Zay behind.

Once he’s gone, there’s truly no reason to stand there holding his breath. Zay manages to convince himself to turn around, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and dragging his feet back to the car.

The night is over. This is over. Time to go…

Only after a few more steps, Zay stops.

What is he doing? Why the hell is he walking away, putting his hands up in surrender like he has no choice? This isn’t going to change; he already tried that idea. He knows how he feels -- he hasn’t stopped feeling this way since they truly became friends.

He’s in love with Charlie. He loves him, but Charlie isn’t going to know that if he keeps walking away. He isn’t going to know how much he wants him -- that he’s spending every second they’re together holding himself by a thread wishing he could break the rules -- if he continues to hold his breath and hold his tongue and wait for the universe to make it happen for him.

Maybe he’ll miss his chance; maybe Charlie won’t feel the same way. That’s life. At least he’ll have given it his all. At least he’ll have tried.

Zay said he was done waiting. So what the hell is he doing?

Seized with conviction, heart pounding, Zay changes direction. He spins back around, fully intent to march up the steps to Charlie’s building and chase after him.

It’s not necessary. Because at the same moment he whips around, Charlie returns, stepping back out into the night. He scans the sidewalk, assuming he’ll have to look hard, but it only takes him a second to spot Zay again. He didn’t go far.

He isn’t going anywhere.

For an eternal second, frozen in time, they lock eyes. Seeing and being seen, speaking the same language with absolutely no words at all.

Zay starts back up the sidewalk. Charlie descends the steps.

Finally, they meet in the middle. They come back together, in the middle of the rain, and after one last moment of before…

They kiss. With equal agency, equal desire, and no hesitation. Back in sync, a perfectly crafted pas de deux.

Once they break to catch their breath, they stay close, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. Soaking up the moment like the downpour, submerging in the allure of one another, already more than certain they’re going to dive in for another one.

But first, Charlie has a quick question.

Charlie, breathless: Does this mean you still like me? Zay: Fucking hell, Charlie.

He lets his next kiss answer the question for him, leaving no room for confusion. Charlie returns it, unable to hold back his grin, pulling Zay in closer.

The next time they pull apart, they end up falling into a playful, instinctive sway, because it’s impossible not to dance when their bodies come together.

That’s how it’s supposed to be.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle returns home after his evening performance, looking about ready to crash. He checks his phone before he goes to change, pausing when he sees he’s got a missed call and new voicemail. Given it’s from Isa, and it’s late, he figures something must have happened.

When he presses play and starts to listen, though, it’s not at all what he expects.

Isa: [ through voicemail ] Um… hey. It’s Isa. Sorry to call so late -- though I guess it’s not that late for you. Yet. Fucking time zones. I just, um --

The sound is muffled as Isa presumably adjusts, but Farkle has already picked up a few tells. Their voice is slurring slightly, and also wobbly, which either means they’re tipsy, or crying. Or both. And from the hesitation in their delivery, they’re clearly processing a lot and worried about how it’s going to come out.

A lot like how rejection sounds. Farkle braces himself, feeling his stomach drop. But he braves listening on.

Isa: It has been such a fucking… it’s a shitshow, and it’s a lot. Everything has been a lot. The funeral was so… and I’m just feeling really… but I wanted to talk to you. I really, really need to talk to you. Because if I don’t tell you, then you’ll never know, and then everything is going to get all messy and go to shit. I don’t want this to go to shit. So -- fuck --

Here it comes. Farkle closes his eyes.

Isa: I love you.

Hold. The. Fuck. Up.

Farkle’s eyes fly open, wide with surprise.

Isa: Oh my God, that’s insane. But -- fuck, but it’s true. It’s so damn true. Farkle, I love you. And that is the most terrifying shit ever, like I am scared shitless about it, but I also can’t… not. Believe me, I’ve tried. And after what we did the other night, when that just like, confirmed everything, now it’s like --

Cautiously, Farkle settles onto his bed, moving in slow motion. Like if he makes any sudden movements, this version of reality will shatter, and he’ll wake up from whatever deeply vivid dream he’s been having.

Isa: I just… really fucking miss you. Even though I just saw you. And I feel like that all the time, like all the damn time. Which is how I know, because I don’t like anyone else that much to want to be with them all the fucking time. I just wished you were here, and then it got all overwhelming in my head, but… [ with a deep breath ] That’s the fuck of it all. I love you. I’m in love with you. So, uh… yeah. Okay, I’m ending this before I make it any worse. See you soon. Bye.

The call ends abruptly, no graceful landing. But boy, did it make its impact. Farkle is dumbstruck, not sure if what he just heard is actually even real.

Someone loves him. Someone is actually in love with him. Isa De La Cruz, of all people, just told him that they love him.

Compulsively, Farkle goes back and starts the voicemail over. Needing to confirm it happened; wanting to hear it said all over again.

Isa: [ through voicemail ] Um… hey. It’s Isa.

Finally, a breathless smile blossoms onto Farkle’s face. He falls onto his back and hides his face under his arms, letting Isa’s voice continue to play and assert their affections all over again.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Meanwhile, Yindra isn’t as giddy. Although the situation with Aleena worked out all right, something is still nagging at her. She’s contemplative as she sits on her bed and flips through her songwriting notebook.

After another minute, it seems to hit her. She opens her phone and digs through her email to find a contact sheet, then enters a new phone number into the call app.

Wrestling up her courage, she hits dial.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

The first shift of the evening is kicking off at a local, trendy bar. Ronica is behind the counter, prepping for a busy night, when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She checks the screen and doesn’t recognize the number, shrugging it off and placing it on the countertop to see if it’ll go to voicemail.

It does. She swipes it open to listen and grows intrigued. Stepping around the counter, she tells her coworker she’ll be back in a second and heads outside, dialing the callback number.

EXT. BAR - NIGHT

Yindra picks up the phone as Ronica steps out into the brisk Los Angeles evening, the conversation intercut between the two of them.

Yindra: Hello? Ronica: Hey. It’s Ronica. You called? Yindra: Yeah. Yeah, hi. [ a beat ] It’s Yindra. From the girl group thing. Ronica: I know. You said so in your voicemail. Yindra: Oh… right. Yeah.

Right then. Ronica glances over her shoulder towards the bar, then crosses her arms.

Ronica: So, is there a reason you wanted to talk to me, or? Yindra: Um, yeah. Sorry to call out of the blue -- I was thinking I’d send a text, but I felt like this would be better to say in person. Or like, vocally. Not through text, where you can’t get the tone right. Ronica: Okay… Yindra: I just wanted to say that I’m like, sorry. For how -- for how weird I’ve been at the auditions. Ronica: You were being weird? Yindra: I’m not normally like -- usually I’m not as competitive as I’ve been acting. Or… cold. Just being all like I’ve got a stick up my ass. I’m not that kind of person. Especially not towards people who are just as talented as me. I didn’t want you to think I was like, a diva or whatever.

Ronica listens attentively, somewhat surprised Yindra is bothering to clarify.

Ronica: Noted. But I don’t see how my opinion of you should matter all that much. Competition is what they want from us, you know. Yindra: I know. I know that’s what they want, and that’s kind of what’s grinding my gears about it all. If we -- if I -- get this shot, I don’t want to go into it with all this aged ground beef. You know what I mean? I don’t want to be the reason the group starts off on the wrong foot, or there’s some drama. I’d be trying to make it a sisterhood, not a bloodbath. Ronica, amused: Sometimes, that’s one in the same. But I hear you. Yindra: I want to be known for the opposite. For being someone you wanna work with. I don’t want to start my career, however long or short it may be, feeling the need to cut a sister down. [ a beat ] So, yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I respect you, you’ve got hella pipes, and I hope shit works out for you.

Ronica’s been in this business for a bit, and even she’s cracking a smile. There’s something refreshing about Yindra’s authenticity, her desire to do things right, no matter how naive it may feel.

Ronica: Well, thanks. I appreciate it. And ditto.

Yindra smiles too, finally relaxing. Ronica claims she has to go back to work, but she wishes Yindra luck. Hopefully both of them will make the cut, but if not, it’s been nice getting to see her talent even if only briefly. Yindra sincerely returns the compliment.

Once they hang up, Yindra sighs, feeling a thousand times lighter.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

It’s early morning now, and based on the state of his bedroom, it appears Zay and Charlie have been quite busy. Whatever they were up to, the frenetic energy has passed, a serene calm permeating the space.

For now, Zay is on his own, half-undressed and reclined back against the headboard. He’s idly gazing around the room, getting a real look. It’s the first time he’s been in Charlie’s new bedroom -- the first time he’s been in a room Charlie was free to actually make his own. That feels distinctly like him, rather than a presentation or collage of what he’s supposed to appear to be.

And God, does it feel so, so good. Zay smiles to himself, inhaling deeply and releasing a content exhale.

To his pleasure, Charlie doesn’t leave him alone for long. He returns moments later, equally as stripped down (no longer “dressed,” that’s for sure) and carrying a glass of water. He notices Zay’s dreamy expression, automatically matching his grin.

Charlie: What are you smiling about?

What a dumb question. As if you don’t know, Charlie… but Zay isn’t going to just hand him the satisfaction of hearing the answer anyway. He shrugs, theatrically gazing around the room again.

Zay: Me? Nothing… nah, I was just thinking how nerdy this room is. Big AND energy in here. You remember what that means, right?

Oh, please… Charlie rolls his eyes, but damn, if he can’t stop smiling. He literally can’t help himself. Not when Zay is teasing him like that again, when he’s in his bed and in his space and everything feels like it’s back where it belongs.

Well, almost. He’s not nearly close enough. Charlie shuts the door and climbs onto the bed to join Zay, kneeling opposite him and handing him the water. Better.

Charlie: I remember, yes. Zay: It’s acute nerd disorder. Just in case you forgot. Charlie: Drink your water, bastard.

He’s pretty sure he needs it, after the last couple hours. Zay smirks but obliges, taking a long sip of the water. Charlie simply watches him for a long moment, taking in the view, then waits for him to place the glass on the nightstand before speaking again.

Charlie: Are you done teasing me now? Because -- Zay: Am I done? Doing the very thing that gives purpose to my being, that sends serotonin through my veins? Charlie: Okay, okay -- Zay: Am I done teasing Charles John Paul Gardner? That’s offensive. The answer is never. And you should be so lucky. I will never be done. We will never be done.

Ain’t that the truth, on so many levels. Charlie keeps laughing, trying to redirect, but it’s so hard when everything feels so light and Zay is so good at what he does.

Finally, he manages though. He leans forward and presses a hand to Zay’s mouth just long enough to get him to shut up so he can get his attention.

Charlie: Because if you could give me like five seconds, there’s something I really need to say to you.

All right, attention earned. Zay backs down, curious and the slightest bit apprehensive.

Zay: Oh, yeah?

Charlie nods, waiting a moment to confirm Zay is actually going to be quiet before he braves opening his mouth again. He scoots forward a bit and steals another good long look at him, taking it all in -- a light brush of his thighs, the curve of his collarbone, the shine in his brown eyes. Committing it all to memory, this one brief moment of bliss, just in case it all goes wrong or the universe collapses the instant he speaks.

For one last second, holding Zay’s gaze and cupping his face in his hands, Charlie hesitates. Because he’s thought about it for so long, stood on the precipice of this moment so many times, he isn’t wholly convinced the words will come out no matter how badly and how ready he is to say them.

But the worries are unfounded. They come out soft, sure, delicate only because of their deep sincerity.

When Charlie sets his truth free, this time, there’s nothing holding it back.

Charlie: I love you.

And Zay hears it. He hears it crystal clear, feels it in every nerve in his body, releasing every lingering doubt and tension like a key finally clicking into place. Even though he already knew -- he knew the whole time, always had faith, even with no words at all.

But there’s nothing quite like hearing it said. No barriers, no pretensions, just him and Charlie and his touch reverent on his face.

Charlie: I loved you then. The whole time. I love you now. And the truth is, I cannot imagine any version of reality where I don’t.

Okay, he came to say it, and man, did he deliver. Zay tries to stay cool, but he can feel his throat getting thick. Not that Charlie would remotely care if he got emotional -- he’d probably do the same, if the roles were reversed. Given how long he’s been waiting, it might be more concerning if he felt nothing.

But he does. It feels like heaven -- it’s everything.

So Zay keeps it simple, avoiding the chance to embarrass himself. He reaches forward and touches the chain around Charlie’s neck, no longer tucked away beneath his shirt… fingering his class ring dangling on the end.

Zay: Yeah?

Charlie nods, smile light and effortlessly fond.

Charlie: Yeah. [ brightening ] And you better get used to it, because now I am gonna say it all the time.

Zay scoffs a laugh, raising his eyebrows.

Zay: Oh, yeah -- Charlie: Mhm. [ nodding ] I love you.

He pulls him closer and kisses his cheek. Then he says it again, before pressing a brisk kiss to his other cheek. Then he’s peppering his face with kisses all over, gleefully telling him over and over exactly how he feels. Zay cracks up, playfully wrestling with him and telling him to stop even though there is absolutely nowhere and nothing he’d rather be than in this moment.

Charlie obeys the joking directive though, backing off in their fit of giggles just so he can get another good look at him. To really take it all in -- the closeness, the relief, the sense of being so, so happy.

And he got here by himself, put in the hard work, sweat, and tears to make it to this point… but it all started because of one unbelievable, one-of-a-kind man. Still holding his face, Charlie shakes his head lightly, looking at Zay with all the devotion one soul can hold.

Charlie, softly: [ with awe ] Isaiah Babineaux.

He is going to be the death of Zay -- but for all the best reasons this time.

Zay takes his cross necklace again and pulls him in his direction, impatiently stealing a kiss. It melts into another one, languid and indulgent, thoroughly enjoying the reward of having made it back to each other.

That is, until Zay’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. He’s content to ignore it -- whoever is texting him in the middle of the night can surely wait until morning -- but it buzzes again and demands attention.

Charlie: Are you gonna check that? Zay: Fuck no.

Zay accents the point with another kiss, clumsy with Charlie’s laughter. He allows it for a moment longer before the phone buzzes again, Charlie pulling apart first this time as Zay groans in annoyance.

Zay: It is like one in the morning, who the hell -- Charlie: Zay, just check it. It’s fine. [ holding his gaze ] I’m not going anywhere.

He means it. Zay examines him, Charlie’s thumb stroking his jaw, not sure if he has the willpower to let him go even for a second… but he relents with a sigh, grumbling as he reaches to grab his phone. Charlie backs off temporarily to give him a second, running a hand through his messy hair.

The texts are innocuous -- just Riley and Yindra both congratulating him for the finalist win -- but that’s not what catches his attention. He has a missed call from about an hour ago, and a voicemail from the same number. Expecting spam, he quickly swipes to the message and lifts the phone to his ear, hoping for a quick delete so he can get back to what’s really important.

But it’s not a spam call. Whatever it is on the other end, it gets Zay’s attention fast. He grows serious, then frowns slightly as he listens more deeply, instinctively climbing to his feet and pacing a few steps. Charlie watches him, curious and slightly concerned based on his shift in demeanor.

When the voicemail concludes, Zay’s silent, letting whatever he heard sink in. Charlie waits for him to meet his eyes, raising his eyebrows. What’s up?

Zay: You remember I -- I went on all those auditions? [ off his nod ] That was one of the producers of Jagged Little Pill. They liked me.

Charlie’s eyes widen. Holy smokes. He starts to open his mouth to congratulate him, to question why the hell Zay seems remotely hesitant when that sounds like amazing news -- but Zay beats him to it.

Zay: They want me to join the tour.

Tour. As in, touring production.

As in, not in New York.

It’s an amazing offer and opportunity, but it means leaving and going who knows where -- away from here. Away from him.

Charlie processes that information, expression dimming slightly to match Zay’s as they both absorb what exactly that means.

So what the hell is he -- are they -- going to do now?

INT. NYU - HILL’S OFFICE - DAY

A couple of days later, PROFESSOR HILL is catching up on work in between classes. She hardly looks up when there’s a light knock on her door.

Hill: Office hours aren’t until 4PM. Riley: I know. I thought you might make an exception.

Hill lifts her head, demeanor shifting when she recognizes it’s Riley. She settles back in her office chair.

Hill: Ah, Riley. Come on in. And shut the door, please.

Riley does so, following her directives and arriving in front of her desk. She stays standing, clasping her hands together in front of her and calmly awaiting more.

Hill finishes up her work and directs her attention to Riley, striking a careful balance between compassionate professor and frustrated director.

Hill: I’m sorry something happened at the last show. Did everything turn out all right? Riley: It did. Thank you. Hill: That’s good. I’m glad it wasn’t something more serious.

Not that Riley has provided remotely any details beyond “family emergency.” With that out of the way, and confirmation that she’s not about to be insensitive, the director side takes over.

Hill: You do realize how unprofessional it was to step out at the last-minute, with no warning and no direct communication. To say I was surprised to see Imogen take the stage instead of you and only get clarity from Evan during intermission would be an understatement. Riley: I understand it can be taken that way, yes. I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to check in with you before it happened. But in all fairness, I do think that sort of goes hand-in-hand with the term “emergency.”

Despite her emotional mistreatment, boy did Topanga prepare Riley well for a moment such as this. Although Hill is clearly disappointed and irritated with her behavior, Riley remains level-headed, polite, and grounded in her opinion. She isn’t going to be guilt-tripped or swayed into submission here. In some ways, it’s a testament to how much she’s grown as an individual.

Hill: I suppose so. But I’ve had peers who went on even under such circumstances. I’ve had friends who took to the stage even when they felt on the brink of collapse. The show must go on. Riley: Yeah, I have a friend who was like that too. He tore his tendon and almost ended his career at eighteen. Thankfully, he’s better about that now. Hill: I respect that you made a choice, what you felt was best in the moment. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a disappointment. And it does effect my perception of you, and how seriously you take this work. A true artist wouldn’t let such things get in the way of their obligation to perform. Riley: I understand that definition of “artist” exists, yes. I’m not sure I subscribe to it myself.

They’ll have to agree to disagree. If this changes how Professor Hill views her, or her prospects in the future in Tisch productions, so be it. She doesn’t regret the choice she made -- and for all she knows, it’s just as likely she won’t be here next year for any of it to matter.

So Hill’s disappointment clearly means little. She isn’t going to make her change her mind.

Hill, curtly: Well, lucky for everyone, the production is almost over. So soon you’ll have the freedom to direct your energies elsewhere, since you don’t seem too committed to this now.

Riley takes the dig, not commenting further. She thanks Professor Hill for her time and states she’ll see her at the next call time for one of their last performances, then graciously takes her leave.

INT. NYU - TISCH SCHOOL OF THE ARTS - DAY

Riley emerges from the office and shuts the door behind her, releasing an exhale. She held her ground, without reservation, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. People-pleasing instincts are hard to shake.

As she starts to head down the hall, who should she run into but Evan. He greets her cheerfully, and she returns it. When she mentions she’s just heading to her next class across campus, Evan claims he’s also heading out of the building, so he’ll walk with her.

They chat as they go, Riley making sure to apologize once more for catching him off-guard the other night.

Riley: It wasn’t at all my intention to throw everyone off, least of all you. I hope everything went smoothly on stage. Evan: We held it together, yeah. Gotta admit, I don’t think Imogen and I have the same chemistry you and I do, but such is the gamble of understudies. [ a beat ] She doesn’t hold a candle to your Molly.

That’s sweet, if a bit shady to Imogen. Riley smiles lightly, elbowing him. After a beat, Evan continues.

Evan: How about you? With how fast you ran out -- I mean, did everything turn out okay? Riley: It did. As well as it could, given the circumstances. Either way, I’m glad I was able to be there. I could tell it really helped Lucas.

Right… they push through the doors --

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

Riley gets halfway through saying a chipper goodbye when Evan interjects, surprising her with another question.

Evan: And you’re okay too, right? Riley: Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Evan: Okay. I just -- you left really suddenly that night. You seemed kind of frantic. It didn’t seem like… I mean, don’t you think it’s a little weird of Lucas to expect you to just drop everything? Stuff you think is important, because he wants you somewhere else?

Riley clams up slightly, suddenly sensing she needs to tread cautiously. Even so, she remains impressively calm on the outside.

Riley: Lucas didn’t expect me to do anything. I chose to go. Evan: Okay. Riley: In fact, if you must know, he wanted me to stay here. He wouldn’t have expected me to be there at all. He told me so. Evan: Okay. I’m glad to hear that. Riley: It was my decision to leave. Lucas had no influence over it. It was my call. And I don’t regret the choice I made.

Sorry if that feels inconsiderate, or unprofessional, but it’s the truth. Evan can tell he’s treading close to a nerve, and doesn’t want to upset her, but somehow all of that just makes him even more uncertain. He’s never been in a serious relationship, so he wouldn’t know, but is it normal to get this defensive over a simple question?

Evan: I only wanted to make sure you were okay. You can tell me if you aren’t, at any time. You know?

Again, sweet, but so, so misplaced. Riley offers him a smile, but it’s tight. She holds his gaze, though, not backing down or shying away from her next words.

Riley: I am good, Evan. Never better, actually. So you can save your concern. I’m fine.

And you can mind your own business. Evan raises his hands in surrender, taking her at her word. He said his piece, put himself out there as a lifeline, and that’s all he can do.

Riley isn’t remotely interested in being rescued, though. She doesn’t need it. She tells Evan she’ll see him around and descends the steps onto the main sidewalk, striding off to her next class. Evan watches her go, certain that didn’t go how he wanted it, but not sure if it could’ve gone any better.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HR OFFICE - DAY

Josh is facing a similar uncomfortable conversation, sitting opposite a lead HR REPRESENTATIVE with Justin in a chair to his right. They’re addressing the “incident” from earlier, making sure the air is cleared before everyone gets back to work. Josh is slouched low in his seat, obviously disdainful of being there going through the motions and absolutely unable to look at Justin next to him.

Justin, on the other hand, is being charming as ever. Cracking jokes, assuring HR he has no issue with Josh, doesn’t plan to raise this issue any higher. They’ve talked it out, Josh is getting his talking to, and he’s got access to additional care if he needs it. Far as he sees it, that’s all that’s needed.

Justin: I don’t know about you fellas, but I for one am just ready to put this all behind us and get back to making some sweet, sweet music. Am I right, Joshie?

Josh has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t know how he ever found his boss likable. He can barely stomach his nonchalant attitude, as if everything is fine. As if he did nothing wrong.

Because as far as most people know, he didn’t. That’s the beauty of how this enabling, self-shielding industry operates. And that function is clearly alive and well at Global Beat, where Justin has comfortably and effectively entrenched himself into the machinery.

Justin may be ready to move on, but the HR representative has more words of warning for Josh. He cautions that while they can let one mishap like this slide, due to his long-standing good reputation within the company, they cannot overlook an incident like this again. Such volatile behavior and violence is not how Global Beat rolls, and they want to employ people who hold the high company values and standards that they do.

HR Rep: So perhaps you should think long and hard about whether you’re the right fit for Global Beat.

Not to worry, HR. That’s all Josh has been thinking about for days. Increasingly, the more he sits here and fights the urge to either implode on himself or tear everything around him to shreds, he has the sinking suspicion he knows what the answer is going to be.

They don’t share the same values. Not at all. Justin grinning in the seat next to him proves it.

Josh: Yeah. I think I should.

With that, they’re dismissed. Justin skips his way out first, telling Josh he’ll catch him back at the offices.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAY - DAY

Josh is in no hurry to follow -- wondering if he even should at all. He’s approached his metaphorical line in the sand, and now he has to decide which side he wants to be on.

What is all of this for, really? What does he really stand for? Has any of it been worth it?

Is it worth his soul?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Come Hang Out” as performed by AJR || Performed by Josh Matthews

The camera slows as the synth kicks up, the voices of Josh’s friends echoing as the backing vocal as the song begins. He looks down the hall towards where Justin is going, back to the way things have always been. Entrenched in the status quo.

On the first utterance of the end of the opening chorus, Josh spins away and heads in the opposite direction, buying himself more time.

I’ll be there next time, I’ll be there next time

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAYS - DAY

Josh launches into the first verse as he makes his way through the maze of the upper echelons of the company, walking amidst the glitz of certified platinum records, executive offices, and framed posters of successful acts under their record label.

All the things Josh was so certain he wanted, that he has been dreaming about since he was a kid messing with MP3s on his chunky desktop computer in Philly. Part of the reason he’s ended up where he is now, reflecting on all the missed social scenes and insatiable creative ambition.

All of my life I have been starving Not for a dinner with friends, more of a starving artist

As he makes it to the end of the hall and almost turns the corner, he finds many of his friends and loved ones waiting for him on the other side -- Andrew, JASMINE, AMY MATTHEWS and ALAN MATTHEWS. Imploring him to take a break, to gain some perspective through the chorus.

But he wasn’t ready to hear it. Not quite yet. So he stammers out the excuse that bookends the chorus and escapes again, heading down the stairs --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAYS - DAY

Josh takes temporary refuge in the floor below, the financial offices of the label. On his right is a wall of tall windows, showing him the gilded view of Hollywood around him. Where he always thought he was destined to be, meant to thrive.

Even in the sunny glow of such a scene, this is where the willful delusion starts to wear thin. Josh starts to confront the realities that have been casting a shadow over him the entire time he’s worked at Global Beat. The reveal about Justin is a huge factor, yes, but there were always issues.

Last album sales could’ve been higher Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen friends in a while

He’s overworked, and underpaid. He’s been a loyal assistant and junior producer for years, yet hasn’t found any upward mobility. He has to sacrifice so much creativity for profit, for whatever “trend” is clicking this month. His bosses are happy to puff him up, but they won’t put him out there.

All the hours and creative energy spent, often for nothing.

He gets reminded of this strongly enough when the chorus comes again and he reaches the end of this corridor, where some recently certified big hits are listed on the wall. Sure enough, “LolliPop” is there -- credited to everyone but him.

I’ll be there next time, I’ll be there next time…

But will he?

Josh turns away from it, hitting the stairs again as the chorus repeats.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - STAIRWELL - DAY

He races down the stairs in slow motion through the second repetition of the chorus, not sure where he’s going to stop. Is he going to brave going back to his floor, going back to before and swallowing the cognitive dissonance -- or is he going to keep walking right out the door?

For now, he isn’t quite there. Not yet. He stops on his usual floor and pushes through the door --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAY - DAY

Taking the long way back to the offices, weaving through the recording studios as we ease into the bridge. The music quiets, and Josh does his best to hold his emotion together as he takes the death march back towards Justin and Melissa…

Until he spots something that makes him stop in his tracks. He doubles back towards the open studio door he just passed, eyes wide.

It’s not the usual Global Beat digs on the other side of the doorway. Instead, he’s seeing the past -- the confined, cozy but stifling interior of his childhood bedroom in Philly. At the desk opposite the door, a fresher, younger JOSH MATTHEWS (17) is at his electric keyboard, playing the keys of the bridge as he painstakingly and obsessively works on building some of his first amateur tracks. Messy dark hair still stuffed under a beanie, lithe frame still compulsively bent over his keyboards (piano and laptop), cheaper, more affordable headset over his ears. Just as hyper-focused as ever, probably skipping on dinner to get this last detail right.

But he’s happy. He’s energized, creatively stimulated, free to follow his dreams and trust his instincts. The thing motivating him to spend all that time at the keys isn’t money, or credit, or fame. It’s passion, pure and simple, a deep and unwavering love for music -- what brought Josh out here to chase this dream in the first place.

Josh stares at his former self, tearing up, finally asking himself the question he should’ve been asking this whole time. Finally willing to face it, to accept whatever the truth may be.

Should I go for more clicks this year, Or should I follow the click in my ear?

Should he do whatever it takes to climb to the top, no matter who gets hurt in the process or what he leaves behind -- or should he trust his gut? Should he create trash, derivative pop drivel, just to get those few extra viral streams -- or should he trust his ear? Should he give up his artistic drive, his integrity, his very sense of right and wrong, just to stay in good with a system that may never see him anyway -- or should he trust his heart?

As he repeats the bridge lyric one more time, his former self looks over his shoulder at him… then smiles at him. Trusting him completely with his future.

Josh knows. He knows the answer. He knows what he needs to do.

He pushes away from the studio as the bridge comes to its abrupt end, thrusting us into the final chorus --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

And showing Josh’s last march through Global Beat. He returns to his desk and gathers his things -- signs off and shuts down his computer; boxes up his belongings; takes down his mementos.

He leaves nothing behind, because he’s never coming back.

From their offices, Melissa and Justin watch him, obviously displeased he’s leaving their safe control. Brian and Phelps watch as well from the water cooler with the other assistants, more sympathetic and clearly wishing he didn’t have to go.

Josh doesn’t pay them any attention. He doesn’t let their presence sway him, sticking to his instincts. He makes his final exit towards the elevator lobby with his things…

EXT. GLOBAL BEAT - DAY

And emerges through the revolving doors into the sunlight, squinting up into the cloudless L.A. sky. Walking away without guarantees, nothing but the belongings in his arms and the clothes on his back, but still true to himself. Still holding the pieces of himself they can’t exploit unless he lets them.

I’ll be there next time, I’ll be there next time…

As the song comes to an end, Josh takes a deep breath and begins his path into a new future, heading down the street and away from Global Beat.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

In the past, Grace is just about to make a break for freedom herself. She traipses around her bedroom silently -- a trained natural at it now -- doing everything in her power not to wake up Kenneth.

She glances over her shoulder at him one last time, hesitation flickering in the shadows on her face for half a second…

Then she opens the bedroom door.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

The clock on the microwave display gives us the time. 3:30AM.

In the dim glow of the oven light, we can get a clearer picture as Grace rifles through the silverware drawer. In this light, we can just make out a couple of faded bruises on her forearms, and what looks like a fading welt on her cheek. Even though it’s only been a few years since they moved to New York, in her current exhaustion, it looks like decades. She seems eternally tired for someone who is barely in her mid-twenties, with her entire life ahead of her.

Maybe because it doesn’t feel like there’s much of a life to live.

That’s why she’s doing something about it. She lifts the silverware tray and retrieves an envelope, hidden in the same place she stashes extra money for Kenneth’s lemonade. She pulls out the contents, starting first with a letter that she quickly skims. It describes some logistics they must have discussed for a bit now, like train times and ticket prices and when the next flights out of the country are.

For now, she just has to get out of the city, and then they’ll go from there. The letter is signed “R.”

Then, Grace checks the rest of the envelope, where it seems she’s been siphoning cash. She glances over her shoulder nervously and then swiftly counts it out, confirming she has the right amount. Just enough for one ticket to Pittsburgh. Far enough away to buy her some time.

She closes the silverware drawer, then shuts off the oven light.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - ENTRYWAY - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Grace moves quietly in the darkness, opening the coat closet and pulling a small duffle bag from its depths. One she must’ve packed earlier, that’s been hidden away for days. She leaves certain items on the small table with the vase, as if she hasn’t gone anywhere -- her chunky mobile phone, her keys, her family credit cards. If this goes as planned, she won’t need them anymore.

All there is left to do is leave. Grace shoulders the duffle and takes a deep breath, steeling her nerves. She’s been pushed this far, planned it all out -- she’s desperate.

She can do this.

Before she can touch the front door, she jumps out of her skin when someone else speaks.

Child, off-screen: Mama?

Grace freezes, only slightly relieved that it’s not the familiar deep baritone of her husband. Reluctantly, she silently lowers the duffle to the ground and peers around the corner of the entryway.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Standing in the dark of the living room is a YOUNG LUCAS JAMES FRIAR (6). He’s dressed in an oversized shirt and cheap pajama pants, hugging his blanket close to his chest. If you looked close enough through the poor lighting, you could see he has a fading welt of his own to match his mother’s on his chin.

Grace exhales, doing her best not to appear frazzled.

Grace: Yeah, it’s just me. What are you doing up?

Lucas doesn’t exactly seem keen to say. He’s sheepish as he lowers his arms and tilts the blanket away from him, revealing both it and his shirt are caked with vomit.

Lucas: I threw up.

Based on how he says it, full of quiet shame, it’s not the first time. Grace sighs, frowning.

Grace: Another nightmare?

After a moment, Lucas nods. He looks up at her, wide eyes sad and already apprehensive for whatever punishment he’s earned.

Lucas: [ barely audible ] I’m sorry.

Grace feels rooted to the spot, unable to move in either direction. She was so certain she could do it, that she could walk away and make her escape, and that desperate desire blocked out everything else. She honestly didn’t even think about him -- which perhaps is evidence enough that she’s not cut out for this.

She’s selfish, and self-preserving, and not meant to be maternal. She never wanted a kid. She didn’t want this life.

Yet here she is, with a kid looking up to her asking for help. Her kid, for better or worse.

Grace: It’s okay. Go take all that to the bathroom, okay? We’ll clean it up. Lucas: Okay. Grace: But be quiet. We don’t want to wake up your dad.

That goes without saying. He’s young, but Lucas has internalized such things well enough already. Kenneth’s needs come above anything else, without question. It’s honestly remarkable he felt brave enough to come seek help, rather than just sitting in his own bile until morning.

Lucas softly retreats and disappears down the hall towards the bathroom. Grace is alone again, and left with her own decision to make. She looks over her shoulder, to the entryway where her bag is packed and ready to go. She could still do it. She could get away.

But no, she can’t. Not because she wants this… but because Lucas doesn’t get a choice. He didn’t ask to be born; he didn’t ask for either of them as parents. It’s unfair, the greatest injustice there is, but that’s how it is. Grace let herself be coerced into this, into giving him life, and now he has to live with the consequences.

They both do.

That’s the compromise. She can’t leave him here with the monster she lured on his own; she can’t stomach the possibility of leaving him to fend for himself. Even if she feels useless, and spineless, and of no great benefit to either of them, she has to try.

A couple of tears slip down her cheeks, but she brushes them aside. She swallows the ache in her throat and slowly picks up her bag from the entryway, hiding it in the closet again until she can empty it out tomorrow when Kenneth is at work.

Before she steps back into the living room, she pauses in the entryway, taking a deep breath. Holding back the urge to break down, to collapse into tears or scream at the top of her lungs, stuffing all of her misguided dreams and bold, untethered plans deep down to be forgotten. She can’t imagine them again. She doesn’t think she’ll survive if she does.

Then, she exhales it, accepting her fate.

She isn’t going anywhere.

She swipes the last tears from her cheeks and follows Lucas towards the bathroom.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

All these years later, in the present, Grace is back in the kitchen. She’s seated at the small table and going through the mail. She comes back to one envelope in particular, pulling out the thick papers stapled together and full of legalese.

That’s not what she cares about, though. She’s focused on the thin slip attached to the rest of it at the bottom.

She lifts her gaze when she hears the front door open, still trained to immediately tense up even though the threat is now gone for good. She relaxes once Lucas appears in the kitchen doorway, exchanging a soft greeting with her. He claims he’s just stopping by to grab something for staying over at the apartment.

Grace: Actually, can you sit for a minute? There’s something I want to talk to you about.

Okay… Lucas is uncertain but obliges, coming to sit in the chair opposite her at the table. After a moment, Grace hands him the stack of papers to look at.

Grace: This came yesterday.

Lucas glances at her in confusion, then looks it over. Once he’s had a chance to skim it, his eyes widen in recognition.

Kenneth’s life insurance payout. Finally in their hands, after all the time they wasted avoiding the funeral.

Lucas: Oh… how much is it?

Grace hands him the slip of paper next -- the check from the insurance company. Based on Lucas’s reaction when he reads it, it’s not an insignificant sum.

Lucas: Wow.

Suppose it’s good he at least cared enough about himself to insure something… Grace nods.

Grace: It’s not bad. [ a beat ] I want you to have it.

That’s genuinely shocking to Lucas. He stares at her, frowning.

Lucas: What? No. Grace: Yes. I want you to take it. Use it for Davis. Lucas: I… I can’t. I -- you need it. Grace: I’ll be fine.

He shakes his head wordlessly, then stammers over his response. He puts the check back on the table between them.

Lucas: [ choked up ] I don’t -- I don’t want it. I don’t want his money.

At that, Grace’s impressive resolve crumbles. She finally cracks.

Grace: This is not his money! [ voice breaking ] This is what we get for surviving.

All they had to endure, everything they went through for the last two decades -- for his whole life. This is all they’re going to get from it. This is the first thing they get that doesn’t automatically belong to him. Doesn’t he see that?

Lucas does, potentially, but it’s just so hard to comprehend. It’s hard to believe, and that makes it scary.

Grace takes a second to compose herself, before meeting his eyes again.

Grace: You’ve already given up so much. So much that -- that you don’t even realize you were missing. It’s not fair. It’s not right.

Lucas clenches his jaw, eyes glossy. Grace blinks back tears of her own and picks up the check again.

Grace: This is the first step in making it right.

She holds his gaze, placing the check back in his hands and closing hers around them. Not letting him throw it away.

Grace: This is your future.

More than that, it’s freedom. For her, to make the choice where it goes; for him, to do whatever he wants to do with it. To finally be able to follow his ambitions, not held back by anyone or anything. To do the things she was never able, or brave enough, to do. This is after -- the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Lucas pulls one hand from hers to swipe at the tears that just slipped out. All he can manage is a nod, but he relents. He accepts it. Grace smiles, cheeks shining with tears of her own.

Their hands stay together on the tabletop.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Maya is curled up on the couch, but at least she has emerged from the lonely cavern of her bedroom. Now that she’s not carrying her burden alone, that she has someone else in her corner, it doesn’t feel as hopeless. She doesn’t feel as hollow.

Still, she’s not entirely convinced she can hack it. She currently has a text open to her mom, where it seems she’s typed out a vague but engrossing story as to why she’s decided Hollywood isn’t for her. Why she thinks she needs to come back to New York.

Maya may just abandon her dreams after all.

She quickly deletes the text and closes her phone when the front door opens, Farkle entering the apartment. They exchange greetings and light smiles, and after dropping his bag on the kitchen table, Farkle comes to join her on the couch.

For a minute, they sit in companionable silence, both lost in their own heads. Both with a lot to contemplate and think about. Neither aware of the other’s big questions and daunting decisions, or the forces compelling them to consider them in the first place.

Farkle: I booked my ticket back for the wedding. Did you? Maya: Oh, no. Not yet. I’ll figure it out. Farkle: Sorry, I should’ve asked if you wanted to book together. Maya: No, it’s all good. I actually think Josh and I might take the same flight, so.

Oh. That’s news… Farkle didn’t realize they were on that good of terms. But no issue for him -- he likes Josh. At least, better than he thought Maya did.

Farkle: Cool. As long as you’re not going it alone. Maya: Yeah… yeah, for now, I’m good.

Feels a bit weird, though, not being one another’s first thought. Feels weird to consider that this situation might change, that one of them could pack their bags and completely leave the other behind. All things considered, that’s one thing neither of them want.

None of that is said, of course, but Maya reaches to alleviate the discomfort regardless. Without prompting, and without explanation, she scoots closer and cuddles up close to Farkle, resting her head on his shoulder. Soaking up the familiar warmth, not wasting a second of it while she’s sure she has it.

And although it feels out of nowhere, Farkle doesn’t question it. He has no complaints. After a moment, he slouches back and relaxes into it, tilting his head against hers. Both of them shut their eyes, settling into comfortable, peaceful quiet.

Regardless of what else is changing, no matter what else they seem to have taken away, the two of them are sure this is something they don’t want to lose.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Riley is leaning against the island counter, scrolling through websites on her phone. At a glance, it looks like she’s scanning volunteer organizations, though they don’t seem based in New York given the scenery just visible in some of the images.

She looks up from her phone when the front door opens, Lucas stepping into the apartment. She smiles naturally and starts to greet him, but surprisingly, Lucas speaks first.

Lucas: So I’ve got some news. Riley: Oh? Lucas: Yeah. You’ll want to hear this, actually, because it concerns you. [ plainly ] You’ve got a new boyfriend.

Um, what? Riley gives him a look, confused… then she narrows her eyes, assuming he’s up to something. She figures he must be, because she doesn’t believe he’d be so nonchalant about suggesting a change in their relationship otherwise.

Riley: Is that so? Lucas: Yep. But don’t worry, I think you’re gonna like him.

All right, she’ll bite. She plays along as he slowly saunters over to join her.

Riley: I’m listening. What’s he like? Lucas: Oh, total mess. No clue what he’s doing, terrible with words. Going to UC Davis, so that’s great, but he already deferred a year, so all bets are off how that’s going to go. Really, not a reliable horse to bet on. So, you know, exactly your type. Riley: Uh huh… Lucas: But he’s working on it. He’s a mediocre dancer, and has a criminal record, but he makes a pretty mean milkshake, so that counts for something. Riley: I’d say that accounts for quite a bit, yes. I’m enthralled. [ a beat ] And who am I falling so madly in love with, exactly?

Lucas has made it to her, joining her at the counter. He hedges for a second longer, just for effect… then he retrieves a piece of paper and his license from his jacket pocket. He places them on the surface for her to look for herself.

He’s legally changed his name. For all intents and purposes, he’s now Lucas James Kinsley.

Riley softens, marveling at the new license. Lucas clears his throat, doing his best to explain.

Lucas: Just felt right. If we were burying him… I wanted to bury all of it. Hopefully for good. [ a beat ] I’m not going to be that.

Or else, he’ll die trying. He’ll do everything in his power to keep it that way. Riley rubs her thumb over his photo on his license, filled with fondness and a touch of pride.

Riley: Lucas James Kinsley. [ looking at him ] I love him already.

She does. It’s the only thing she’s certain of, the only thing she knows is meant to be. Doesn’t matter what his name is, or where they are.

As he leans forward to kiss her and she presses a smile against his lips, she knows without a doubt there’s no other detail that matters more than being with him.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

A few days later, Farkle has made it back to New York. He’s at a table with Zay, the two of them killing time while they wait for their third to show up. In the meantime, Farkle is regaling Zay with all the dirty details of his break-up with Jordan.

Evidently, despite how much it hurt Farkle at the time, Zay is pleased with his story.

Zay: You know, I really never thought I’d say this out loud without irony, but your slay, Farkle Minkus. I’m proud of you.

And oh, how praise from Zay Babineaux is like catnip. Farkle beams, accepting the sentiment.

Riley finally arrives, smiling brightly as she swoops over to join them. She accepts a tight hug from Farkle and apologizes for being late, eagerly launching into conversation. She can’t wait to catch up with them both, as it’s been a hell of a month and it feels like so much has happened.

That’s true, for all of them. There’s so much that’s developed in all their lives, it’s like none of them are sure where to start -- or if they even can. Some of the things they’re most bursting to share, to shout from the rooftops, don’t even feel like confirmed things they can say.

Neither Farkle or Zay seem keen to jump in with that in mind, so Riley offers to, claiming she has some big news. The boys are secretly pretty skeptical she could beat whatever personal seismic shifts have occurred in their worlds, but they gesture for her to go on.

They should know by now never to doubt Riley Matthews. She looks at them both, smile confident and cheeks flushed, as she makes a bold declaration.

Riley: I’m dropping out of NYU. [ with cool certainty ] I’m going to California.

Yeah, definitely not something either of them were expecting. Zay’s expression drops, stunned, while Farkle’s actual jaw drops slightly. He turns to look at Zay, trying to gauge his reaction too. Is this as crazy as it sounds?

But Riley isn’t fazed. She remains calm, self-assured, smile easy on her face as she looks towards the future.

God willing, let’s hope it stays that way.

END OF EPISODE.

[ ← Last (Part 2, half 1) ] [ 411 Hub ]

#411

0 notes

ambitionsource · 2 years ago

Note

since you guys did the voice casts for the front nine, which singer(s) would fit jack and eric?

Pearl I am so sorry, you sent this 100 years ago lol so forgive me for the delay. As it turns out, shockingly, trying to vocally match older men is a lot harder than the young adults of our main cast LOL. Still, I want to do them justice so I've done the same as I did previously in this post, along with a couple others who have since emerged as more common singers in our ensemble:

ERIC | Eric is the one of the two of them that does have an actual musical theater background, so I do think that makes a difference. His voice would without a doubt be more trained, have a broader range, and probably have more inflection in terms of emotion and emphatic delivery (that's the theater kid edge). I also think that Eric's voice would be deeper than maybe one would assume off the cuff, at least when singing. So as requested, a couple of comps:

Hugh Jackman – This might be partially because we had him perform "A Million Dreams" in Season 2, but I think it fits. Jackman has voice that's like, sturdy and baritone, but it's not overbearing. It doesn't eat up all the oxygen in the room or feel like it's so deep it's coming from the pits of hell. Additionally, I like that he does have a decent range -- see him going for Valjean songs in Les Mis -- so I think that point is important. Example track: A Million Dreams

Christopher Jackson -- Whoop! Didn't see this one coming did we, especially since Jack tends to be the one singing Washington songs from Hamilton... but I do think this tone of voice fits Eric better. Again, it has that rounded, well-balanced, sturdy vocal quality and can emote without a doubt. Example track: History Has Its Eyes On You

Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) -- For a non-Broadway or film take, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver is a fitting enough comp range and tone wise. Example track: exile (with Taylor Swift)

JACK | I think Jack, much like his not-son Lucas, has an edge to his voice that is distinctly unpolished and rough. Even though he's an appreciator of the arts, and works at an arts school, a big part of Jack's whole thing is that he isn't from this world instinctively, and he for sure wasn't honing his range or vocal ability all through his youth. So his early 40s man voice is not Broadway ready, but there's a charm to that as well. I also imagining him having a bit of a husky, Southern quality to the edges of his singing voice because of his upbringing in Virginia. As such, comps to go around:

The Avett Brothers -- Obviously this is a bit unspecific because... there are three brothers in this band and only one Jack, LOL, but you can kind of get the vibe of the like slightly rustic quality, emotive without necessarily being good at channeling emotion, etc. I think this also fits that I picture Jack's singing voice a bit higher in tone than Eric's, and that register works here. Example track: I And Love And You

George Harrison -- I know my Beatles nerd is showing, but I stand by this. George was never the standout vocalist of the Beatles (not that I think any of them were tbh lol, they were much more about music composition and arrangement than like being the best singers ever), but his almost soft-spoken delivery just hits right for Jack to me. Example track: Something

James Taylor -- This is veering almost too much into the twangy territory, but I think it helps serve what I mean by sounding a bit more unpolished and husky while still being more in the baritenor range. James Taylor has had a long career, so there's option abound for sampling, but I went with a cover song from his latest album because he is. Well. Older lol. Example track: God Bless the Child

YINDRA | I would argue Yindra is the most defined singer in our new crop of elevated mains, so she needs a section here. When it comes to her, I want you simply to think of the most talented vocalist you know -- that artist you think is just unbelievably talented and you can't believe they have a range like that. You wonder how they're not a huge star already if they aren't well known. That's Yindra. I feel like there are genuinely so many talented female vocalists that could make this comp list, but since I'm keeping it concise, a top-of-my-head sampling:

SZA -- I think sometimes people think of SZA more as a rap-adjacent vocalist (i.e. more about rhythm and delivery than vocal range, to a degree, which is an equally impressive skill), but I love her voice from a tonal perspective too. Have you heard her jump the octave in tracks from ctrl? An immediately slay. In this case, I will reference one of my favorite tracks from that album and that I think lets her vocals really shine due to the stripped nature of the track. Example track: 20 Something

Tess Henley -- If I haven't made it clear yet by how I slip her songs into the series here and there, I love Tess Henley. She is severely underrated. Why I bring her up for Yindra is two-fold: she has an incredible belt range, and also has a somewhat scratchy quality to her voice in certain octaves that I think is such a unique sound and makes her sound so... authentic and evocative. I think Yindra would have qualities like this too. Yindra's vocal talent is raw, untamed, a force to be reckoned that is bursting out of her -- it wouldn't be polished to pop perfection like Maya. It's just against her nature. Example track: Boomerang

Alicia Keys -- Okay is this a basic answer. Maybe. But I think Alicia's vocal talent speaks for itself, and so does Yindra's. Not to mention, her range alone is blockbuster. Case in point, example track, we all know it's coming: Girl On Fire

NIGEL | Nigel doesn't sing as much as some of the other characters (he's an actor at his core), but he's picked up enough performances this season to warrant mention here. I think of his voice as a gentle, somewhat level tonal tenor, and while I don't have much to say beyond that, a few comps nonetheless:

HONNE -- I can't tell the two members apart so don't ask that of me please lol but the vibes are there. Example track: Location Unknown - Brooklyn Session

Hippo Campus -- Again, don't know who is actually singing here LOL but again, the sound will tell you what you need to know. Example track: Golden

JOSH | Same goes for the above for Josh -- he's not a singer in the explicit sense of the word, so to a degree, his vocals would just sound like some guy. But he's a guy who has a deep, intrinsic understanding of music, and I do think that colors his vocal delivery. He's no Farkle, or even Charlie, but it doesn't hurt your ears to hear him chime in on a tune every now and then (especially when he's splitting with someone like Maya). Comps:

AJR -- AJR are basically just some guys, but some guys who know how to craft a good song, so they're kind of my go-to sound comp for Josh. I also think they sing pretty well about both young adulthood what-am-I-doing-with-my-life angst, and the battles of the industry, so their emotion shines through in that way. Example track: The DJ Is Crying For Help

Glass Animals -- Same sentiments. Example track: Solar Power - Spotify Singles

VANESSA | Unlike Zay, Vanessa is less of a triple-threat than she is more consumed with dance, but we know she can carry a tune competitively. And unfortunately, unless you're going into ballet, it helps to be able to sing to get more performing opportunities that include dance (see: Broadway), so she has most certainly honed those skills. In terms of skill vocally, I would plot her somewhere on the scale between Maya and Riley -- she's more polished than Riley, from all her training and overworking competitiveness, but she lacks Maya's raw natural vocal charisma. But that doesn't mean her voice can't be a showstopper when the moment calls for it. Comps:

Jasmine Cephas-Jones -- The oft overlooked third Schuyler sister of Hamilton, Jasmine has vocals that can cut right through you. I love how much energy and power you can feel in her delivery. Vanessa definitely has that quality. Example track: Little Bird

Normani -- Goes without saying, since we gave her the bop of all bops with "Motivation." And also unfortunate how Normani despite being talented got kind of celebrity eclipsed by a fellow former bandmate (Camila), which is something I'm sure Vanessa would relate to. Example track: Motivation

Billie Eilish -- This one is a bit out of left field, but something about the somewhat flat inflection and lower range (definitely alto) that Billie's voice encompasses has always struck me as a bit Vanessa-like. So I'm including her. Example track: Getting Older

-- Maggie

#aaa supplementaries #yindra amino #nigel chey #vanessa johnson #eric matthews #jack hunter #josh matthews

8 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 4 years ago

Note

can we just talk about nigel... walk us through him please

i’m 2 months late to answering this, but yes. yes we can! i’ll try to give the same general portrait of him as i did in the past with like nate and stuff, hopefully it will be somewhat coherent bc i love him and he deserves to be appreciated and understood just as much as our other fave a class kiddos

so as we all know damn well at this point, nigel is an aspiring actor. he’s one of the few students in the a class who has a very core passion that he doesn’t waver from (like in the way maya, farkle, yindra, riley, etc. kind of just do lots of everything -- and eat up the opportunities in their wake LOL -- nigel is like zay in that they both have very clear areas of expertise that they dedicate most of their energy and passion to). and though he’s not as intense or vocal about it, acting is extremely important to nigel. actually, the whole process and experience of being an actor is, from the character work to the play reading and annotating to those moments of actual delivery. he’s an actor in his bones, equally as dedicated as maya or zay just significantly more outwardly laid back about it.

that being said, i feel like all you have to do to really get a sense of how deeply he cares about it is to... ask him about it. like if you get him talking about shakespeare, any of his plays, the kid who always seems so quiet and laid back will be talking a mile a minute and unpacking the nuances and brilliance of shakespeare’s works faster than you can keep up. he’s also like this -- tho not to the same degree as acting -- about classical music / jazz / a capella choirs / orchestra (since he plays the violin), local cafes + coffee, nostalgic story-driven cartoons like digimon that he watched on pbs when he was younger, and editorial cartoons. like he’s the friend that sends yindra and zay his favorite political cartoon from the new york times every sunday to their group chat (and after some time, jade gets these excerpts too). he’s also decently savvy about fashion, at least the lowkey hipster art deco pretentious chic type of fashion. i think he’s similar to asher, riley, and charlie in that he comes off a certain way and everyone assumes they know what he’s like bc he’s great a maintaining this calm persona, but those who really know him know that it’s all a charade and he’s extremely nerdy, excitable, enthusiastic, and impassioned, etc. if he’s comfortable with you, then you get the full nigel chey experience with all those quirks and eccentricities.

part of the reason nigel has the calm, unbothered persona, though, is mainly because of his family. he has a good relationship with his parents and his siblings, but he comes from a family where there’s a lot to juggle and so many things going at once that it behooves him and makes him feel better to be out of the way and not adding to anyone’s plate. as we mentioned on the income scale, nigel is one of the scholarship students at aaa, so much of his parents’ time is dedicated to making ends meet and looking out for all of the chey children. nigel has a few siblings, but the age gap for the most part isn’t that wide. he has an older sister who is one year ahead of him in school (but is not an artist, she’s studying to be a school counselor), a younger sister who is a freshman, a younger brother who is in middle school, and then the baby brother of the family who was unplanned and thus is quite a few years younger than the rest of them. so they’re a crowded, hectic little clan, and nigel feels like the best thing he can do is just stay out of the way as much as possible and be useful when he can. so he’s become very good at internalizing unpleasant emotions, letting things go, and not getting riled up (esp by provocation of younger siblings). in some ways, this has also made him a bit of a doormat, as we see in some scenes with yindra and zay where their personalities are just so much louder than his so he tends to default to them or try to keep the peace.

nigel also puts a lot of pressure on himself because of the money situation in their family as well as the unspoken expectations of his parents. both of them are supportive of him pursuing acting, and they always do their best to make it to at least one of his performances, but they’ve taken pains to make it understood that nigel is going to have to work his ass off simply because they don’t have the means or industry savvy to help give him a leg up (like half of his classmates do). like, they wholeheartedly supported his application to aaa -- especially his dad, who is a bit of a lit nerd himself and loves shakespeare / passed that on to him -- but they made it clear that if he couldn’t get a scholarship, it just wouldn’t be feasible. thankfully, that worked out for the best, but i think nigel lives very aware of that threat nipping at his heels at all times and that’s part of why he throws himself so deeply into the work and was basically oblivious to any other form of Teenagerdom (i.e., jade’s crush or his potential feelings for anyone) for most of his time at aaa.

there’s also a bit of an internal pressure in wanting desperately to make his family proud and feel secure about his future in such an unstable career. like his mom is an analytical mind, she was studying to be an engineer when she was in college but then she dropped out to help take care of nigel’s maternal grandparents and so she never got to realize that for herself and i think she has a lot of anxiety about nigel ending up in a similar situation where he isn’t as secure or happy as she wants him to be. but she doesn’t really like... understand in her head that thats where her hesitation is coming from + the fact that she just isnt an artist and doesnt really get why doing such a risky career would be worthwhile. she supports him, but doesn’t logically Get it. so i think nigel wants to be able to Prove to her he’s got it under control, that he’ll be okay, so that then they can just enjoy his passion as much as he does without worrying about him at the same time. he’s also the first son of the family, and so he has a sort of subconscious pressure as well from masculinity in terms of like coming out successful and able to help support his family, both his and the one he builds in the future with a partner. so big melting pot of anxieties and pressures going on in that beautiful nerdy head of his, but he doesn’t talk about it really even with people he trusts (like yindra and zay) nor do i think he truly understands himself that he’s carrying all that around. it will probably hit him eventually. guess we’ll find out someday!

(fun fact: nigel’s mom also does side work as a seamstress, so that’s part of why he has such a natural appreciation for that type of work. now who else do we know who is a masterful seamstress... hm... its on the tip of my tongue...)

all of that being said, at his core nigel truly is a very laidback guy. its somewhat a persona, but it also is true to his inner self. he’s passionate, but in a tempered and healthy way. i think that sometimes, despite how creative he is in many aspects, he struggles to think outside the box and off the beaten path because of how important measured success and competence is to him. so things like maya doing whatever the fuck she wants and yindra thinking about skipping college and just jumping into the industry don’t compute for him (the same way all of it doesn’t really click for his mom), and as we know, he sometimes becomes frozen in inaction because that feels safer or more logical. and he’s just never going to be the diva that zay or maya or farkle can be, and he’s content with that. if he’s going to make it, in his head, he’s going to achieve it through hard work, dedication, attention to craft, and being a decent person who people enjoy working with. and he also definitely understands the importance of knowing who to trust and having that tight inner circle, i.e., what he has with the true star squad of yindra and zay.

-- Maggie

#nigel chey #aaa supplementaries #a class #answered #i love him.....#nigelchey #ask and you shall receive

6 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 5 years ago

Photo

The real talent of the A class is finally here to gab. Do your worst! And while you chat, don’t forget to check out Yindra and Nigel’s carefully curated personal playlists.

Yindra’s playlist

Nigel’s playlist

#character takeover #ct: nigel & yindra #nigel chey #yindra amino #s3 countdown

5 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 5 years ago

Note

ok but tell me all abt yindra and nigel’s friendship backstory PLEASEEE

sorry for the ridiculous wait on this, i wanted to wait until i had the mental capacity to talk about them with justice! i love it when y’all show interest in the a class — we’ve really grown to love them dearly as they’ve developed into their own unique cast of personalities and it’s the best to see you guys loving them too

so yindra and nigel! this is a friendship that i honestly think didn’t take much time to click. freshman year at aaa is intense, and you fall into your friendships quickly (if the techie crew, maya and the plastics, etc. are any indication). yindra became friends with zay first — real sees real, after all — whereas nigel kind of floated between clarissa, haley, and yogi without ever really grounding to one place.

nigel definitely Wanted to approach zay and yindra, but he’s markedly the most reserved of the three of them, and this was especially true in 9th grade. even more so when huge personalities like maya and farkle were present and LOUD, which just made nigel even more cautious. so he just slipped under the radar for the first month or so, not really finding his people until later into the semester.

two things allowed for yindra and zay to take notice of nigel — his talent, and farkle. the first happened after their first solo monologue performances, during which nigel’s passion and penchant for acting really shined and his reason for being at the school became crystal clear (this was also, pointedly, when jade first developed her crush on him). as for farkle, he contributed when one afternoon of him complaining and squawking and being domineering during rehearsal finally caused nigel to snap out a sassy retort, clever and witty and drenched in deadpan sarcasm. THAT was the spark that yindra had been waiting for, and the smile the two of them exchanged as farkle backed off — hesitant at the time — was the start of a beautiful friendship. nigel started sitting at their lunch table the next day.

how the unique friendship between yindra and nigel really grew, rather than as a trio, happened in second semester. zay was dating brooklyn at that point (the junior who was his assigned mentor and like... a manipulative mess. yeah... its mentioned concretely in cruel summer), and in doing so he had jumped into his circle and basically abandoned the freshman a class. not purposefully, of course, and not will malintent, but when you have the opportunity to hang out with cool juniors (including your bf who you’re desperate to keep interested and impressed), and they seem to really dig you, its easy to get lost in that and completely forget everything else. and despite yindra and nigel pointing out that they hadn’t hung out with him, and yindra trying to explain why the relationship was weird to her + had some shady elements, he didn’t listen. when you’re in the thick of that situation, its always hard to hear your friends speak truth and reason.

so as zay temporarily evaporated, yindra and nigel were left to complain about it — but also got closer and bonded in the process. and that’s what really solidified their individual dynamic, which is still strong to this day. and of course, after brooklyn dumped zay and all of that came tumbling down, they were both willing and ready to accept zay’s apology and comfort him from everything that had happened — something he was still lowkey recovering from going into s1, i.e. his feelings of isolation.

and that, truly, is how an iconic trio was born

— Maggie

#ask and you shall receive #answered #yindra amino #nigel chey #zay babineaux #yindra x zay x nigel #yindra x nigel #i love them i do #ambition quarantine 2020

3 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 4 years ago

Photo

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Can You Dig It?” [ 3.07 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3

STAYIN’ ALIVE – After an unfortunate accident, the A class finds themselves working double time to fund their showdown performance. Charlie struggles to balance the past and the present, and Maya makes a desperate move. Farkle receives news that changes his life forever.

70 Minutes (33K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← The Comfort Zone ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Moment of Truth → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Music plays over the sound system, setting a comfortable and fun scene while most of the A class works together on the auditorium stage. The performers are working through showdown choreography or helping put the finishing touches on set pieces for the production, while the techies are split between those set pieces, the beginning of structures for their upcoming winter musical, and tweaking the lights. JEFF MONROE is up on the catwalk out of sight, NATE MARTINEZ perched on top of a scaffolding and passing him requested tools. DAVE WILLIAMS is balancing on a ladder against the scaffolding, helping hand things to Nate from below.

MAYA HART has taken over as dance captain, shouting commands at her classmates still running through steps. ZAY BABINEAUX watches from on top of the major set piece they’re building at center stage for the musical, unimpressed and maybe a bit envious. His injured left leg is now in a boot, wheelchair gone.

The conversation varies, from the impending showdown finals to college application deadlines. Everything is coming down the pipeline at record speed, right towards them, and they have to juggle it all at once. RILEY MATTHEWS glances around and asks where Jade is, which ISADORA DE LA CRUZ answers.

Isadora: She’s been locked up in the costume loft basically since last week. The deadline for her conservatory and apprenticeship programs is closing in, so she’s been working basically non-stop.

Maya: How does she not have enough samples already? Hasn’t she made everything we’ve ever worn in this school for the last three years?

A fair question, but it doesn’t get addressed. They’re all distracted by a new song coming on shuffle, playing loudly over the speakers.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Wonderland” as performed by Earth, Wind & Fire || Instrumental

Although the track is an undeniable bop, the assembled A class seniors don’t seem impressed. They all quickly pipe up to complain, calling for someone to skip it.

Darby: Where’s Jeff? Jeff! Hit skip!

Jeff, from above: A little busy right now!

Maya: Well someone better go change it!

Haley: And risk getting killed by Lucas because we dared enter the booth? No thanks.

Maya: Fair point. Riley, go change it.

Riley, in the midst of rolling paint on a set piece, raises her free arm in a shrug. Also a little busy. Zay shakes his head.

Zay: What is wrong with all of you? None of you have taste. Disco is classic. You should respect the excellence that came before you.

Maya: Sorry I’m not still living in the 20th century. It’s 2020, Zayby. Disco is dead.

Zay: You absolutely disgust me. If my foot wasn’t booted --

NIGEL CHEY finally relents amidst all their complaints, claiming he’ll risk his life to go change it if it will get them all to shut up.

For now, though, the boogie wonderland is ongoing. FARKLE MINKUS uses the opportunity to pick on Isadora, loosely disco grooving around her and trying to poke her into joining him. She laughs but tells him to cut it out, and when he gets too close, she playfully shoves him away.

Only she’s stronger than she looks, and he’s a beanpole, so she overshoots and pushes him a bit too hard. Farkle goes stumbling backwards -- right into the ladder that’s holding up Dave. Isadora yanks Farkle back just as the ladder falls out from under Dave, just missing Nigel, clattering to the stage next to them and creating a dent.

Dance! Boogie wonderland!

A bunch of the seniors cry out, scrambling away, now watching in horror as Dave dangles from the side of the scaffolding a dozen or so feet above the ground. He almost loses his grip, seconds from falling, and Maya screams. She backs away frantically and knocks into a paint can, spilling metallic silver paint all over their perfectly crisp black stage and splattering CLARISSA CRUZ, DARBY WINTERS, and SARAH CARLSON.

Ah! Ah! Dance!

Jeff and a couple of performers start shouting directives at Dave, trying to save him from a nasty fall off the scaffolding. Nate tries to pull him up, but it’s no use -- Dave is the giant after all, and Nate’s guns aren’t that swoll. Riley hides behind her hands, peeking through her fingers and unable to look away.

Riley: Oh my God, he’s gonna die.

Isadora takes over directing from below, instructing Dave to change trajectory and aim for the curtains to orient himself. Jeff objects to that, citing the integrity of the curtain pulley system, but he’s shouted down by the performers jumping on Isadora’s suggestion. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at Dave to go for the curtains, so that’s what he does.

Jeff: No, don’t -- !

All… the… love in the world can’t be gone!

Dave manages to latch onto the main curtain -- but it’s all downhill from there. That curtain is about as useless as Nate, and the pulley system holding it upright can only sustain so much weight (curtains are a lot heavier than they look). So the moment Dave latches on, it buckles underneath him, and seconds later the whole thing comes down in a spectacular show of destruction.

The A class scatters to avoid it, ducking down and covering their heads. Clarissa pulls HALEY FISHER down behind a set piece with her for cover; Farkle yanks Isadora out of the way and shields her behind him. Zay screws his eyes shut and hides behind his knee, thankfully a safe distance away. Then the dust settles, stunned silence giving way to the continuing groovy sounds of Earth, Wind, & Fire.

Riley pokes her head out from behind the set piece she was painting first, eyeing the heap of curtains and rods on the dented stage floor. She swallows.

Riley: … Dave?

For a moment, nothing but tense silence… from above, Nate releases a gasp.

Nate: Holy shit, we’ve killed him.

Then Dave emerges, pushing some dense drapery off of him and pushing himself into a sitting position. He seems dazed, but otherwise uninjured.

Jeff: Oh, thank God.

Isadora: Dave… you good buddy?

Dave blinks, then offers a thumbs up. Everyone releases a sigh of relief… just as SHAWN HUNTER and HARPER BURGESS enter into the scene of chaos, having rushed in after hearing the commotion from down the hall. In the opposite wings, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR returns with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, all of whom stop dead in their tracks when they set their eyes on the disaster they’ve stumbled into. Asher’s jaw drops open; Dylan drops the toolbox he was carrying.

Whoopsie. Boogie wonderland…

From his perch atop the set piece, Zay breaks the silence, shaking his head.

Zay: Shoulda never dissed disco.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

JACK HUNTER is seated at his desk, working to maintain a neutral composure as HARRISON YANCY paces his office. He’s haughty and on offense, demanding to know what happened with the auditorium and grilling Jack for details. Of all the things he planned to tangle with at Adams, vandalism and destruction of school property was not at the top of the list.

Yancy: But, then, I suppose I should’ve anticipated such a turn of events. Considering you’ve struggled with reining in destruction before, and insisted so vehemently on keeping problematic entities in your student roll -- and now they’re student leadership, in fact!

Jack: He had nothing to do with this. Lucas wasn’t even in the auditorium when it happened --

Yancy: How convenient for him.

Jack: And it was an accident. No ill intent involved. It was an accident, and all of the damage is repairable. The curtains can be fixed and replaced, the dents in the stage can be filled, and the spilled paint can be removed or painted over in turn. I think we should be more concerned with the lucky reality that no one was hurt.

Yancy: [ ignoring that point ] The damage is repairable, yes, but it won’t be free. And I certainly won’t approve its reparation on the school’s dime.

Jack points out that such a decision isn’t his to make -- he’s still the principal of Adams. And that’s true enough, but as Yancy effortlessly counters, he remains under close watch. That’s the reason Yancy is present in the first place. Every decision Jack makes is under scrutiny, and a figurative nod of approval from him matters. Jack must be wise enough to realize that.

Jack, begrudgingly: So what, then?

Yancy: So, it seems to me that the A class will have to proffer the money to pay for the damages on their own.

Jack: That’s ridiculous. They’re students, not entrepreneurs. And they’re already scrambling to raise money for their showdown performance, not to mention ways to bolster their scholarship initiative since you voted to deny them funding at the board level.

Yancy: Then they must be experts at it. What’s one more money-making effort? At least it’s teaching them meaningful life skills -- budgeting, consequences, the value of a dollar. All very sensible lessons to learn… something you used to complain this institution lacked at the same time you were decrying the actions of students you now fruitlessly defend, if I recall correctly.

Well, you got him there, Yancy. Jack deflates, knowing there’s no logical path out of this. Yancy has him cornered, and the more he invites reminders about how he used to be or the ways he’s already fumbled, the graver his prospects grow. Yancy emphasizes this as he makes his exit.

Yancy: We at the board used to hold you in high esteem, Jackson. We saw great things in your future. Now, with all these foolish mistakes... let’s hope that all your promise hasn’t dissolved with the Hunter I used to know.

The threat is buried deep beneath the thinly-veiled condescension, hidden in a simple choice of plural. Mistakes. This battle is just one in a long, growing list Yancy is keeping against him.

Like he could ever forget it. Jack releases a heavy sigh after Yancy leaves his office, slouching in his chair.

Lucas, pre-lap: I shouldn’t be surprised. This might as well happen.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Riley listens attentively as Lucas paces the booth, busying himself with gathering stuff for class for the sake of moving. Although his tone is sarcastic and indifferent, the weight of his words indicates he’s far from it.

Lucas: It’s not like I don’t already have enough to focus on, between the usual bullshit and the fundraising for showdown -- a showdown that we have to win if we want any chance of the scholarship thing actually taking off. That on top of the college applications I wasn’t planning on doing three months ago but now have to make really good, because suddenly I have dreams or whatever, even though I’m basically the most rejectable candidate on the east coast.

Riley: Okay, you know that’s not true.

Lucas: Fine. Most rejectable candidate in the greater Manhattan area.

Riley: You literally won an election.

Lucas: And the world is still wondering how and why.

Riley rolls her eyes, but she is sympathetic. She agrees that the stage accident was definitely an unexpected speed bump on everything they’ve got going on, but they’ll figure out how to handle it. There’s no way it’s going to be entirely on them, anyway, and they don’t even know how much damage was actually done yet.

She takes the opportunity to broach another topic, though, easing into a deeper conversation about college. She asks how his applications are going, which he claims are fine, in spite of the stress surrounding it.

Lucas: The only stuff I’ve got left are recommendations and personal essays. And I know I’m fucked on the recs considering you’re supposed to ask for those months in advance, and I know no one impressive, least of all who would sing my praises.

Riley: You could always ask my dad for a recommendation. I’m sure he’d have glowing things to say. Instant acceptance, I bet.

Lucas, flatly: You are hilarious. It’s no mystery how you managed to reel me in.

Riley: Well, that and my effortless charm and insanely dazzling visage.

Lucas gives her a look, but to be fair, he doesn’t argue her on it. She simply beams in response, sliding closer to him and halting his pacing by taking his hands.

Lucas: Honestly, I’m not really stuck on the recommendations. I think I’m going to ask Joe for one, because he can at least speak to my work ethic or whatever, and the other… I mean, it’s whatever. I’ll figure it out.

Riley: But…?

Lucas: But… I don’t know. With the rest of the app…

It’s clear there’s something else he’s really stuck on. Riley starts to offer him advice, or maybe just encouragement, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the booth door. Jeff appears moments later at the stairs.

Jeff: Class is starting. Judgment day is upon us.

Lucas and Riley share an apprehensive look, then follow the lighting technician out of the booth.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Harper, Shawn, and ERIC MATTHEWS are on the stage, assessing the damage while the A class gathers in the front and center section. The destroyed curtain has been removed, the pock marks in the stage even more visible in its absence.

ANGELA MOORE emerges from the wings, Janitor HARLEY KEINER in tow. She’s just barely starting to show her pregnancy, but the flowy tops she’s wearing now conceal it fairly well.

Harley: Old curtain’s out back. Trash company will be by this afternoon to take it away.

Angela: I have to say, I picked a great day to stop by and visit. Never a dull moment.

Harper: Girl, tell me about it.

Angela laughs knowingly. Been there, queen. Eric and Shawn turn their attention to the seniors, coming towards the front of the stage.

Eric: Who wants to explain what exactly happened?

A whole bunch of them immediately launch into retellings, talking over each other and definitely exaggerating elements of the story. The camera jumps around to each of them, catching snippets of their perspective.

Sarah: If Jeff had just changed the song --

Jeff: I was in the catwalk!

Nate: So Jeff’s up in the catwalk, and Dave is handing me shit -- I mean, uh, stuff -- on the scaffolding --

Darby: Isadora pushed Farkle --

Isadora: I lightly nudged Farkle --

Maya: Farkle is like a house of cards and all it takes is a little wind to knock him over, so he goes flying into the ladder --

Clarissa: Paint splatters --

Yindra: The ladder goes crashing down and nearly takes off Nigel’s head --

Jade: Oh my God, what?

Nigel, pointedly: No, it did not. [ softer, to Jade ] No, it didn’t.

Yindra: It did.

Haley: Not like the curtains almost took out Dave!

Yogi: This class is a circus act.

Eric holds up a hand to halt them all, waving them down. He can’t figure out what any of them are saying when they all talk at once, so he asks for a volunteer to give the rundown. A few hands up go up, but Eric wisely selects Zay.

He pulls himself to his feet, gingerly, for the effect. Then he clears his throat, speaking plainly and matter-of-fact.

Zay: Farkle got knocked into the ladder. Ladder falls, dents stage. Dave almost falls, Nate is no help --

Nate: Whoa, okay then. Hater.

Zay: Maya stumbles back and knocks silver paint can over. Performers tell Dave to grab curtain, Jeff objects --

Jeff: Justice. Thank you.

Zay: Dave does anyway, whole thing comes down. Also, no one in this class has taste and for that they evoked the wrath of God. But apparently God can’t kill Dave Williams.

Dylan: So metal.

Eric: Thank you, Zay.

Zay does a pithy salute, lowering back into his seat. Harper goes on to explain the total damages done by the incident as well as relay the total cost of the repairs -- without saying a definitive sum, suffice to say it’s not cheap.

The A class immediately breaks into chatter again, trying to divert blame off themselves. Shawn notices one student doesn’t seem particularly vexed -- in fact, he appears to be laughing to himself behind his hand.

Shawn: I’m sorry, Friar, do you find this funny?

Lucas: What? Oh, no, no. Very serious business. [ clearing his throat ] It’s just… it’s so nice to not be the one responsible for once.

The performers immediately boo him. He simply smiles. CHAI FRESCO is the one who manages to redirect the conversation.

Chai: What exactly is he doing here?

All eyes turn to Janitor Harley, who stands sheepishly next to the faculty. Harper says she’s glad Chai asked, claiming that if anyone deserves an apology for what they did today, it would be him. He puts a lot of effort and care into maintaining their sacred space, this auditorium, and the damage done today walks all over that.

Darby: It really was an accident.

Harley: No hard feelings, Miss Winters. Mighty nice as it was for Harper and Shawn to invite me here, rest assured I know there was no ill intent or disrespect. And I can assure you that with the time and proper resources, we will return this stage to tip-top shape in no time.

Maya: Lovely. Problem solved then, no?

Eric: Not quite. You do still have an assignment to attend to, especially as it’s your last major one before finals.

Harper: Since it is a weird time in the calendar and we don’t want to barrel another assignment next week right before showdown, Shawn and I agreed that this assignment would be a two-week stretch, and ideally lower stakes.

Shawn: Even better now, considering how you all just doubled pressure on your own.

Harper: And since you’ve also in turn given Harley more pressure and work to attend to in this time, we thought it only fair that he decide your focus for the project.

With that, they pass the floor over to Harley again to make his declaration. The performers don’t seem all that unnerved -- it’s Harley Keiner. What’s the worst he could do? Clean-up anthems? He clears his throat, clasping his biker-gloved hands together.

Harley: When I’m in a particularly rough spot, or working through a grueling task, I have always found that a little music can really liven the task.

Yogi: [ under his breath ] Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…

Harley: But nothing gets me more fired up, ready to take on a challenge or dance to the beat, than some classic tunes from my early youth. And I’ll tell you kids, no one knew music better than the radio hits of my day.

Slowly, the possibility begins to dawn on the A class what decree awaits them. Dylan is counting backwards on his fingers, trying to calculate just how old Harley actually is, but Asher next to him has beaten him to it.

Asher: Oh no.

Harley: Ladies and gentleboys, we’ll be taking it back to the ‘70s this week for your musical assignments.

Dun dun dun. The A class expresses their obvious disdain. Well, all except Zay, who cracks a smug grin.

Zay: Heh heh… karma.

There’s only more grim news. Considering the stage is going to be undergoing repairs thanks to all this, they’re all essentially ousted from the auditorium for the time being. No sense practicing or rehearsing in a space that’s going to be under construction. JADE BEAMON sits up straighter, shooting her hand in the air.

Jade: We can still access the lofts, right? Like, I can get in the costume loft --

Eric: Yes, all the technical spaces, as well as the dressing rooms, are still fair game. But stay away from the stage.

Harper: And you might not get much work done when they’re doing things like drilling and hammering, so be forewarned.

Haunting… Jade hides in her hands, already stressed. Nigel tentatively pats her on the shoulder.

So yeah, all in all, some unideal circumstances right before some of the most important events of their high school career.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Maya is in surprisingly good spirits in spite of the financial issues confronting the class, preening and showing off Valerie’s faux fur coat. She wears it effortlessly, entertaining Darby, Sarah, and a crop of underclassmen at a table as she shares the tale of her and Valerie’s instant starlit bond. When Darby reaches out to feel the coat, Maya quickly smacks her hand away.

Maya: You’re welcome and encouraged to look, but no touchie. Golden diva rule.

A couple of tables over, Riley and Isadora watch her showboating with amusement. Riley claims it was really generous of Isadora to give her the coat, but she shrugs it off.

Isadora: Seriously, she’s way more at home in it than I would ever be. Can you ever see me pulling that off?

Riley: I think you can deliver any design you endeavor, you know that. [ off her raised eyebrow ] But yeah, a bit out of your element. Ironically, maybe.

Isadora: Even that’s a stretch. But it really wasn’t a hard decision. As much as it inflates her ego, my mom did see something in her. Maya can use it as a bragging tool all she wants, and people probably won’t believe her because of it, but they probably would be in cahoots if Val were still here. [ a beat ] A lot of things were going to happen if she were here.

Oof. Riley senses the gloom impending, searching for a quick change of subject. She asks if Isadora found anything else cool in the boxes from the estate.

Isadora pauses, mouth parted open. The answer is plenty -- including the mystery hidden way deep down underneath everything else. But for whatever reason, she hesitates explaining what she found.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to respond anyway. Dylan swoops into their conversation, dropping down into the seat next to Riley and smacking a piece of paper onto the table. It’s a flyer for scheme one of their fundraising efforts: a community dance, now officially ‘70s themed. Isadora turns it around to get a better look at the very bright poster.

Dylan: Hot off the presses, ladies. Another instant classic from the one and only ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary and official marketing and communications director for the Friar administration.

Isadora: Colorful…

Dylan: Shout-out to Harley for basically choosing our theme for us. We’d been sitting on it for ages because Asher and Maya kept fighting over it.

Isadora: Really? What theme ideas could possibly be worth scrapping over?

Dylan: Nothing. Neither of them actually had an idea. I think they just automatically hate anything that comes out of the others’ mouth.

Isadora: Wow, just like a real body politic.

Riley excitedly swipes the flyer, praising Dylan for his enthusiastic design. She snaps a picture of it on her phone and explains she’s texting it to Charlie.

Riley: I’m so pumped for this. Disco isn’t my favorite thing, but it is fun.

Dylan: Bouncy.

Isadora: Jaunty.

Dylan: Ooh, thesaurus bonus.

Dylan and Isadora exchange a quick high five. Riley beams at them, then continues.

Riley: Besides, with how extremely crazy everything is right now between college apps and showdown and now this fundraising debacle, I think it’ll give all of us some much-needed serotonin. A nice evening of… disco dopamine.

Dylan: Oh, you know you just wanna see Lucas in some sick bellbottoms.

Isadora: [ with a gag ] God… please, I’m sitting right here...

Riley shoves Dylan playfully, then reiterates the point. It will be fun. A nice, well-deserved stress reliever after working their asses off these next couple weeks.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

And boy howdy, that could not be truer for Jade. She is in full frenzy mode, skipping lunch and hunkered down in the costume loft to work. It seems like she’s been there for days, her space under the loft essentially a nest of costuming supplies, her belongings, and discarded snack containers. Her hair is a mess of tangles falling half out of a ponytail, three different tape measures are draped around her neck like graduation cords, and she’s wearing an old button up paint smock about 3 sizes too large that only exacerbates the crazed hermit energy.

Asher and Jeff listen as she multitasks on cataloguing some of her projects and marks another in progress on the table in front of her, the former visibly disconcerted by Jade’s general state of being while the latter seems mainly tickled. She speaks around a pin caught between her lips as she explains the reason for the chaos -- college applications are due right around the corner, as are apprenticeship applications, and she needs to have all her portfolio pieces in perfect condition before she hits that submit button.

Asher: Again, I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but girl you need to relax.

Jade snaps her head up to glare at him, even scarier with that pin in her mouth. She removes it to stick something down while Jeff asks her what she has left to do. Apparently, she’s just about done after days of relentless work, so she’s on her last application assignment now: pick a decade and create a sampling of as many unique -- but historically accurate -- costumes as possible in her designer’s mind.

Jade: Luckily, Janitor Harley did me the favor of having to pick a decade. If we’re doing ‘70s stuff this week anyway, then we’ll probably need costumes, so I can knock out two birds with one stone.

Jeff: I don’t know if I’d say need…

Asher: Yeah, with the auditorium boarded up for the time being I doubt we’ll be doing any major productions.

Jade: With Maya and Farkle, you can never be too careful.

Case in point, she is way too swamped to even think about the fundraising bullshit. She feels bad, but there’s no way she can split her time. Jeff and Asher assure her it’s no big deal.

Jeff: I think the performers will let you off the hook considering you’ve made… every single costume they’ve ever worn since freshman year.

Asher: Least they could do.

Jeff: Yeah. You deserve a week off!

Jeff’s turn to receive the Jade Beamon death glare. He clears his throat, scratching his ear.

Jeff: Well, you know… not for you, but...

Jade stabs the pin cushion pointedly.

Zay, pre-lap: I guess if my clear eternal damnation is good for anything, it gets me out of fundraising to fix another problem caused by Farkle and the Pips.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Zay and Nigel are taking their lunch in the boys dressing room, both on their laptops while they eat. They’re working on finalizing college application stuff, Zay sitting on the counter with his injured foot propped up while Nigel is leaning against the mirrors on the floor.

Nigel: Guess it’s worth it then.

Zay: Ha ha, so funny. If I could afford to move, I would kill you for being such a damn comedian.

Nigel: I’m more of a tragedies man myself. [ a beat ] What are you planning to do, exactly? For the applications.

Zay: [ with a sigh ] Just putting the pieces together and hoping for the best. Thank fuck I recorded a couple runs of my routine when I was going through my obsessive drills at the start of the year.

Nigel: Glad Diva Zay was good for something.

Zay: They’re not as polished as I want, but they’ll do. Not like I have any other options. I’m just going to convince myself via self-hypnosis that they’ll see the rough edges as loose, natural charm. Between that and other samples I have from shows and recitals and West Side Story, all I can do is hope that’s enough. And if I get far enough to book an audition… I’ll be better by then.

He says it like a guarantee -- he can’t consider the alternative. Nigel isn’t sure how to respond, but he’s spared from figuring it out as they’re interrupted by YINDRA AMINO entering with a few showdown costumes to replace on the rack. All of them freeze as they glance at one another, Yindra and Zay holding one another’s gaze for a few moments longer. Then Yindra brushes past the awkwardness, shrugging and focusing on the costume rack.

Yindra: No need to go on defense, boys. I’m only here on business.

She keeps her eyes on her task. Nigel picks up the conversational slack, explaining that they were discussing their college applications. He asks how Yindra is doing in plotting her college plans, as last they talked she didn’t have much set in stone.

Yindra, matter-of-fact: I’ll be applying to a couple of schools as a safety net, but my main trajectory remains Los Angeles. The current plan right now is to skip over the bureaucracy of academics I don’t care about and go out there to start striking while the iron is hot. Talent speaks for itself.

Nigel, ever the pragmatist, still seems uneasy about such a plan, but it’s Zay who beats him to the punch. He breaks the silence between him and Yindra with a snort, tone teasing but friendly.

Zay: Straight to Los Angeles with no foundation? Now that’s just asking for trouble, and that’s coming from a diva like me. Haven’t you seen Fame?

Maybe that kind of friendly fire passes when they’re on good terms, but it falls flat now. Yindra stiffens her shoulders, giving Zay a diva glare of her own.

Yindra: [ without looking at him ] Nigel, will you please inform Zay that despite what his superiority complex might think, I’m not an idiot?

Nigel: Oh, um --

Zay: Come on, Yindra. I didn’t mean it like that.

Yindra: And Zay might find it interesting to know that my dad is considering moving to Los Angeles as well, if I plan to be out there, so I don’t see how I’m swinging with no foundation. And I’ll be using the money that we would’ve wasted on tuition for studio time to record a demo, so there is in fact a method behind the madness. Just because I’m not following the same musty, beaten path as everyone else doesn’t mean I’m not on any path at all. [ haughtily ] And even in spite of his broke attitude, I wish him all the best with his less-than-ideal circumstances. Least of all this week -- I’m sure not being able to show off while he discos is simply killing him. Thanks for letting him know, Nigel.

Nigel: … you’re welcome...

With that, Yindra spins on her heel and exits. Zay rolls his eyes, but it’s clear that the state of their friendship is really bothering him. Nigel awkwardly attempts to move past it, commenting that the two of them are about as dramatic as a Shakespearean comedy of errors before coming back to Yindra’s closing point.

Nigel: It’s a shame about this assignment though. You’re probably the only one in our class who could truly thrive this week.

Zay smiles half-heartedly, both of them focusing back on their computers. After a moment, his smile dims.

Zay: Didn’t use to be…

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER is at his locker, reading the texts from Riley. He pulls up the photo of the flyer for the dance fundraiser, boasting the disco theme for the end of the semester in all its groovy glory.

Yes, it is a tragedy that Charlie isn’t there to participate. Another disco gay, barred from the dance floor. It’s clear from his expression that he’s bummed about it.

He’s only pulled out of his fugue when EVAN SCOTT approaches. He pats him on the shoulder as he passes and asks if he’s ready for rehearsal. With senior showdown finals so close around the corner, Brandon is going to be drilling them more than ever. Now it’s game time for real.

Charlie nods, putting his phone away and shutting his locker to follow him. But that melancholy still lingers in his features.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

But he’s not the only one grappling with an unideal situation. Lucas is the king of that, settled in his usual chair across from Jack, only this time he’s not alone. Maya has been called in with him, the two of them waiting uncertainly as Jack prepares to share why he brought them in.

And the reason for his apprehension is obvious once he says it. He finally breaks the news to them that the school board declined to fund their scholarship initiative -- and that’s not even the worst part.

Maya: Nothing?

Lucas: They’re not going to contribute anything?

Jack: I know, it’s disappointing. To be honest, I was anticipating at least a partial donation, but for whatever reason it was shot down wholesale. It was close, though.

Maya: Well. That’s just lovely. Could the state of the AAA union get any more despicable?

Jack: To put it simply? Yes.

Uh oh. Jack reluctantly informs them of the other bomb blowing up their administration -- that Yancy has insisted they pay for the damages to the auditorium since their class caused it. Both Lucas and Maya erupt in complaints, the latter literally leaping out of her chair and launching into a frantic pace behind it. She fans herself, taking deep breaths.

Maya: Okay. This is fine. No money, no problems. It’s fine. It’s fine!

Jack: … Miss Hart?

Maya stops behind her vacated seat, gripping the back of it. She takes in a deep breath, holds it, and releases it theatrically. Then she opens her eyes, plastering on her winning star smile.

Maya: It’s okay. Yes, everything is fine. The situation is unideal, in a word --

Lucas: More like bullshit.

Maya: Also a word. But money and I have been tussling my whole career. It won’t be getting the best of me now. We’ll come up with another way to fundraise alongside the dance social and then we will win showdown and absolutely everything will work out exactly how I want it to. It always does.

Jack: That so?

Maya: Thanks to the two powers that be, Principal Hunter -- star and will. And I’ve got both in spades. [ another breath ] Okay, damage control. Need new ideas. Gotta pool resources… brainstorm. I need to brainstorm. I’m thinking… I’m scheming...

Maya hums, entering zen diva mode as she gathers her things. She backs out of the office and assures Lucas she’ll update him as soon as she’s figured out their second moneymaker. Once she’s gone, Lucas and Jack wait a moment to let the Maya pheromones dissipate before continuing the conversation.

Jack: Say what you will about her, can’t pretend she doesn’t have moxie. An interesting choice to partner with you.

Lucas: Believe it or not -- and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone -- I think she’s the best second-in-command I could’ve picked. Somehow her brand of insanity is just right for the Minesweeper that is Triple A student government.

Hard to argue with that. Jack apologizes again for the fact that so much seems to be piling on him at once. He really did think they would get more help from the board… but they’ll keep marching on regardless. The initiative is worth fighting for, and besides, their fundraisers could really outsell their expectations. Especially with a theme like disco, their dance will probably be a smashing success. Lucas can’t help but smirk.

Lucas: Yeah, you’d know all about that, huh? Bet you were just a disco king back in your day.

Jack, flatly: How old do you think I am to have been discoing in the ‘70s?

Cheekiness notwithstanding, the prospects seem good. Not all hope is lost. Jack switches gears, checking in with how Lucas is doing on his applications with deadlines fast approaching. Lucas gives the same general response he gave Riley, tiptoeing around the challenge of the essay component and focusing on the fact that he might get it done at all. Now that it’s so close, it feels more and more daunting… not to mention all the other pressure that seems to be landing on top of him right at the same time.

Jack hears that, and dismisses Lucas so he has time to go deal with all those pressures. Before he walks out, Lucas pauses and turns back for one more thing. He struggles to articulate it since asking for any sort of help feels like specialized torture, but he manages to ask if Jack would be willing to write him a letter of recommendation for the applications. The request surprises Jack, which Lucas reads as discomfort.

Lucas: I know it’s like, pretty last minute and stuff. And there probably isn’t a lot to say about me, so it’ll take some work to throw something compelling together. I should’ve asked sooner, or like, bothered someone else. So I totally get it if you don’t have time or have too much to do or just, you know, don’t want to --

Jack is far from opposed, though. In fact, he’s touched by the request, expression softening to a smile.

Jack: Lucas. [ waiting for him to quiet ] I’d be happy to write one for you. It’s no problem at all.

Lucas: … okay. Cool. Um, thanks.

Jack: You’re quite welcome.

Lucas: I’ll send over the links and stuff later. Today. Later today. So it’s not any later.

Jack: Whatever works for you.

Lucas: Okay… okay. Cool.

Any more bashful vulnerability and Lucas just might implode. He mutters one more quick thanks and scampers away, Jack holding back his amusement long enough to spare Lucas further embarrassment. He chuckles to himself as he shifts back to his work, shaking his head.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Surrounded by various textbooks and scripts and with her laptop propped in front of her, Isadora sits on her bed. A half-finished essay about how the horror genre has developed over the years is open on her screen, but has been entirely abandoned in favor of the mysterious letter Valerie had in her belongings. Isadora holds several handwritten pages, eyebrows furrowed as she reads her mother’s words. She moves the first page to the side, and we catch a glimpse of Val’s loopy handwriting:

Dearest Zachary,

How lovely it is to hear from an old friend! I’m so glad that you’re doing well. Send my well wishes to that darling wife of yours.

To answer your question, I wasn’t entirely sure of who Isadora’s father was when I discovered I was pregnant -- as you well know, I often got rather drunk back then, so couldn’t be entirely sure of all my actions. However, upon reflection, I have come to the same conclusion as you.

Well, damn. Heavy stuff, even if somewhat rose-tinted through Valerie’s flowery language. Isadora bites her lip as she continues reading, clearly conflicted about this sudden revelation.

Eric, off-screen: Dinner’s ready!

Isadora doesn’t seem to hear Eric’s yell, so after a moment, Eric comes to her room to tell her directly. She still doesn’t look up from the letter, peaking Eric’s interest.

Eric: What are you reading?

Isadora: Hm? Oh, nothing.

She folds up the papers and shoves them under one of her notebooks nearby, giving Eric a small forced smile. He narrows his eyes at her, jokingly suspicious, which Isadora laughs off. She hops off her bed and asks what’s for dinner, successfully distracting him.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN, assembled in their usual positions with her in her arm chair and him sprawled across the couch. He’s relaying the drama of the week and his unfortunate instrumental role in all the destruction, though at least this time it was far from intentional. But it’s clear he feels guilty about it, and he admits that his uncanny knack for making things worse is definitely not helping him combat those low moods that seem to creep up on him out of nowhere.

Dr. Han perks up at this, taking the opportunity to gear the conversation. She gently asks if they could discuss that further for a bit, his experience with the high and low moods. Everybody has off days, of course, but based on their previous discussions, she’s interested to hear more about how Farkle describes these different emotional states and the other factors that come with it.

It’s not hard to get Farkle to talk. He obliges without hesitation, launching into details about how it feels when he’s feeling especially frenzied -- sort of the opposite of what he’s dancing around now, but such a vivid experience when he’s in it that he remembers the sensation and always can vibe when it’s coming on. Dr. Han listens carefully, flipping to a clean page in her notepad to jot down his thoughts.

Farkle doesn’t think anything of it, but it seems like Dr. Han might be onto something more than just the typical one-on-one chat. A pronounced clapping counts us in...

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

BRANDON RIVAS is clapping along to the downbeat while the Havies run through their showdown routine, the instrumental from How to Succeed playing on the speakers. He’s keeping a watchful eye on his classmates while they run through the choreography, shouting out when someone is off a beat or not sharp enough on the steps.

Charlie is definitely one of those people. He’s a couple of steps behind today, mind elsewhere, and when he accidentally bumps into BILLY ROSS he receives a glare in response. What’s the matter with you, man?

Brandon: Come on, Gardner! This is your choreography!

Fair point, Brandon. Charlie tries to get back on track, but lucky for him he’s far from the only one struggling this week. DWEEZIL HOWARD is out of step too, and his mistakes reverberate way more as he accidentally sends half the boys into a wave of near stumbles. Brandon yells for everyone to stop, shaking his head as Evan jogs to pause the music.

Brandon: This is not the time to get soft, guys. Showdown is right around the corner.

Havie: So what? It’s not like Adams is any competition. Six years of success speak for themselves.

Brandon: And complacency is the first step in breaking that streak. You want to be credited when that takes us down? [ off his head shake ] So, what’s going on? Is there some contagious case of vertigo going around that makes you all unable to balance on your own two feet?

Charlie chews his lip, shying away from the disappointment. He’s not the only recipient, but he knows he doesn’t have a good excuse -- and certainly not one Brandon would want to hear. But Dweezil answers first anyway, much more visibly frazzled than him.

Dweezil: I’m sorry, Brandon. I’m just really stressing about the MIT app.

Others murmur agreement, mentioning their own upcoming dream school deadlines and the pressure of finishing their applications. Charlie nods along as if that’s his problem too.

Brandon considers this for a long moment, scanning over his peers. He may have high expectations, but he’s not without compassion for his boys. He relents and expresses sympathy for everybody’s stress, claiming they can call it quits early today and cut down on afternoon rehearsals for the next few days while everyone is wrapping up applications.

The boys breathe a collective sigh of relief, thanking Brandon and starting to disperse. Brandon shouts after them to send those apps in fast and get ready to come back to work harder than ever -- they’re not going to slip and fall to AAA on his watch. Billy exchanges a handshake with him and suggests he take some time off to focus on himself, too, but Brandon shrugs this off.

Brandon: No, it’s fine. Think I’ll be able to make use of the time… might have to make some adjustments to the numbers anyway. [ quirking an eyebrow ] Make sure we’re the best we can possibly be.

For what it’s worth, the statement seems less than innocuous. It kind of feels like Brandon knows something we don’t, and based on Billy’s smug reaction, he’s in on it too. They exchange another fist bump before Billy heads out.

Charlie is one of the last to leave, pausing in packing up to check his phone. He’s got a surprising amount of texts on his lock screen, all from Daisy. He opens the thread, finding just under a dozen texts of her sharing live updates with him of an argument that apparently broke out between Rosie and Eleanor. Although her observations are characteristically dry and analytical -- a technical play-by-play rather than biased record -- the fact that she’s telling Charlie about it at all is a sign that she’s concerned about it. The final message she sent kind of sums up the looming stakes without saying so:

“Didn’t this happen with Bridgette?”

Either way, not good news. Charlie frowns. Before he figures out how to respond, Brandon startles him.

Brandon: All good, Charles?

Charlie: Uh, yeah. Yeah, just, you know. Lots on my mind. It was cool of you to give everyone a break right now.

Brandon: Well. [ with a shrug ] Nothing too serious going on with you, I hope. We need your talent to up our dance credentials -- I assume you realize by now how valuable you are to the team.

Charlie: Oh, well…

Brandon: Can’t afford to let anything distract us right now if we’re to come out victorious against Adams. [ a beat ] Least of all Adams itself… you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling conflicted…

Conflicted might be a bit strong -- although Charlie lives basically every day of his life conflicted -- but the notion that Brandon is even close to sensing what’s actually going on in his head sets him on edge. He clears his throat, frantically attempting to throw him off the trail.

Charlie: Oh, no. No. It’s um -- just family stuff. Stuff with my sisters.

Brandon: Ah… sibling nonsense. I get that. I’ve got two older brothers, and even though they’re not at home anymore it’s like I’m still carrying their baggage around.

Charlie: Big shoes to fill?

Brandon: Well, one was valedictorian and is starting his first year at Harvard Law, and the other is starting his third year in prison. So kind of high bars in either direction.

Well. No idea how to respond to that little fun fact. Brandon spares Charlie the awkwardness and lets him go, wishing him a good afternoon.

But pleasant as he is, it’s evident he doesn’t fully buy Charlie’s excuse.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Isadora is at the counter at Chubbies, discussing all of the impending stressors with Lucas during his shift. They’re especially mindful of how Lucas’s scholarship plan is now basically hinging solely on a victory at showdown, which is feeling more and more like a long shot. With Zay no longer able to bolster their performance, they’re short star power.

Isadora: And since Haverford has Charlie, who is basically his counterweight, suddenly the scales are tipped heavily in their favor. We’ll be lucky if we can create some Frankenstein performance around the gaping hole Zay leaves behind.

Lucas: Have you thought about stepping up in his place? Not that you’re anywhere near the level of dancer that he is, but you do purportedly have star power.

Isadora: Gee, thanks. I’m honestly shocked you’re suggesting this.

Lucas: Believe me, it hurts. But I’ve got stakes riding on this too, and I know you’re talented. Maybe you could help prop things back up so we’ve got at least a shot of winning.

Isadora: I don’t know… I mean, I know I performed the other week, but it was all about that assignment, you know? It was specifically because it was out of my comfort zone. [ a beat ] Though, why, I don’t even really know anymore…

She feels more confused about performing these days than averse, with all the grieving she’s done over Valerie, but confusion still feels dangerous. Probably safer to just stay on the sidelines… probably...

Speaking of dangerous tasks, Isadora shifts to college applications. She submitted her NYU film school application ages ago, and she’s got a couple of other things in the pipeline, but she’s much more interested in how Lucas is dealing with his. When he feeds her the same lines he’s been telling everyone else, she raises her eyebrows. Not buying it.

Leave it to Isadora to see right through him. Lucas sighs, relenting and explaining that the essays are killing him. It’s like, everything else he can scrape together, fake, pull off like he’s scraped through everything else in his life. But the personal statements…

Lucas: I hate writing about myself. Why should all of my potential rest on how well I can sell myself in some 500-word anecdote? As if that paints the complete picture. Not that I want that either -- the full picture isn’t pretty. How am I supposed to convince some strangers to take a chance on me when I don’t even believe it? If I had the choice whether or not to know myself, I wouldn’t.

Isadora: Wonder what that says about those of us who do choose to know you.

Lucas: And what am I going to say? Howdy, I’m a son of a bitch, please let me into your school and give me your money to do so? Great fucking deal.

Isadora rolls her eyes. She points out that although he doesn’t want to hear it, when it comes to finances he knows she can help. Once the money from her inheritance fully comes through, she’ll have plenty that she doesn’t know what to do with. If she’s going to use it to help others -- especially those she cares about -- then helping him pursue his dreams is a non-issue. But, predictably, Lucas recoils at the suggestion.

Isadora: I swear, you are impossible. And you have such a weird hang-up about money.

Lucas: Yeah, views that you shared until about a month ago.

Isadora: Well, I’ve grown. I can see the nuances in money now and how it goes around. And I’m just saying that if you’ve got all these complexes around who has it and who can give it to you when you’re stuck on the bottom rung, then --

No doubt it’s a complicated series of complexes. As Isadora is settling into her rant, MISSY BRADFORD enters the diner. Lucas glances over Isadora’s shoulder and spots her, immediately clamming up.

Isadora: ...it’s what Reagan sold as trickle-down economics, but the thing is if you don’t give any money to the lowest income households from the get-go, then they never --

Lucas: Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ve got to go to the back.

Lucas retreats from the counter without waiting for permission, causing Isadora to scoff. She wasn’t finished! But he’s already gone, leaving her high and dry. But he also successfully avoided Missy, who steps up the counter for a pick-up order and is helped by another employee instead. She doesn’t acknowledge Isadora, who eyes her judgmentally from her stool.

As Missy collects her order and leaves -- glancing over her shoulder one last time for her usual Chubbies worker -- Dylan and Asher enter with Farkle. They join Isadora at the counter, asking where Lucas is. She shrugs, claiming he disappeared to deal with something.

Farkle: You ready to go? Is Maya here yet?

Isadora: Not yet. Figure she’ll be a bit late after the “atomic bomb” Jack dropped on her and Lucas -- her words, not mine.

Asher: What are you all up to?

Isadora: Since Farkle and I were technically responsible for the destruction in the auditorium --

Farkle: One could make the argument that I should have died last year.

Dylan: That would be a sick personal essay.

Isadora: We thought it was only fair that we put in the time to help Maya craft whatever last-minute fundraising effort we’re going to pull together to cover it.

As for Dylan and Asher, they were just stopping by to catch up with Lucas before going to practice their assignment for the week. Isadora commends Asher for performing again, considering it was so out of his comfort zone.

Farkle: Yeah, that’s not -- you’re not thinking of making that a habit, are you? Not asking for any reason, just curious. Not because you’re also a tenor. I’m just wondering.

Isadora: Smooth.

Asher: No, not planning to change career paths. Rest easy, Farkle. Just getting this out of the way sooner rather than later. [ nodding to Dylan ] It’s not as bad since we’re doing it together. And besides, can’t ignore the pull of the funk.

Dylan, wisely: Disco is for the gays.

Asher: Gotta pay our dues and get down with the boogie.

Far out, fellas! Isadora and Farkle wish them luck and head out together. Isadora asks Farkle how his therapy appointment went, and while his answer is unbothered, he definitely seems to be a little spacy this week. Isadora notices and considers asking him about it, but opts not to press further. They’ve got enough going on right now.

INT. GARDNER HOME - ROSIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

ROSIE GARDNER is huddled up in her bedroom, begrudgingly working on homework. She’s got Niall Horan playing, and the volume is turned up loud. It takes multiple knocks on her door before Rosie hears, shouting over the noise.

Rosie: Go away! I’m busy.

Charlie, from the hall: It’s me. Can we talk for a minute?

Rosie sighs, but gets up. She opens the door and spins back around to drop back into her seat at her desk, not bothering to greet him. But she let him in, which is more than anyone else has managed this evening.

Charlie blinks as the pop music assaults his ears. He gently closes the door behind him, raising his voice over Niall.

Charlie: Think you could turn Niall down for a second?

Rosie: Huh?

Charlie: Turn your boyfriend down so we can actually hear each other!

Rosie: Ugh. You’re so not funny.

And yet, she relents and lowers the volume. Charlie makes a show of shaking off the ringing in his ears, knocking his ear slightly.

Charlie: Just checking for significant damage. Need industrial strength noise-cancelling headphones to come in here. Like they wear when they guide airplanes onto the runway.

Rosie: You are so annoying. Did you want something, or?

Charlie explains that Daisy texted him that afternoon about a fight she apparently had with mom. She seemed pretty concerned, so he just wanted to check in. Is everything okay? Rosie rolls her eyes.

Rosie: It’s so whatever. Daisy is exaggerating.

Charlie: I don’t think Daisy is capable of exaggeration. We took all the drama genes, there wasn’t any left for her.

Rosie: Well, she is. Yeah, mom and I argued, but it’s like… it’s dumb, whatever. I don’t even care.

Charlie: You’re listening to your sad 1D playlist.

Rosie: I said I don’t care, Charlie. And I can listen to whatever I want whenever I want.

Charlie: Okay, well, can you at least tell me what it was about? Or what’s --

Rosie: Ugh. It was nothing! Can you mind your own business and leave me alone? I’m trying to work.

Yikes. Rosie has always had a little bit of early teen venom in her, but this feels like more than that. Charlie doesn’t want to just let it drop, but it’s more than obvious she will not be having any productive conversations right now.

Charlie: Okay. I’m only -- if you want to talk about anything, you know you can tell me. I’m here to listen. [ a beat ] Okay?

Rosie: [ not bothering to look at him ] Okay. Whatever. Thanks.

She turns Niall back up, effectively ending the talk. Charlie hangs around for a moment longer, words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but for now there’s nothing to be done. He reluctantly retreats, the ghost of the past looming over him.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle, Maya and Isadora are spread out around Farkle’s bedroom as they brainstorm ideas for fundraising. Maya paces around, occasionally picking up little trinkets and inspecting them before putting them back down in the wrong place. Isadora, meanwhile, is laying down on Farkle’s bed on her back, her head hanging upside down off the side. Farkle has gathered a blanket around him as he sits at the other end of the bed.

Maya: You need to add some meat to that stick of a body, Farkle. You can’t keep living like an orphan who’s freezing to death on the streets of Victorian London.

Farkle: It’s not my fault I have a fast metabolism. You’re just jealous.

Maya: Yes, I’m very jealous of the boy who looks like he’s dying of scurvy.

Isadora snorts in amusement, for which Farkle shoots a glare at her.

Maya: Go get us some snacks, orphan boy. We’ll fatten you up Hansel and Gretel style.

Farkle: This is offensive to orphans everywhere, I hope you know.

Isadora: As the only orphan here, I’m not offended. Maya, you may continue your bullying.

Maya grins, but Isadora frowns as she realizes what she said. Technically, she isn’t an orphan, if her father is out there alive... despite rolling his eyes, Farkle does get up to get snacks, blanket still tightly wrapped around him.

Once she and Maya are alone, Isadora sits up straight and turns towards her, lips pursed in thought as she considers what she wants to say.

Isadora: Do you know who your dad is?

Maya stops wandering around and looks at Isadora in surprise.

Maya: Where’d that come from?

Isadora: I don’t know. Just wondering about the orphan thing, I guess.

Maya: Izzy, that was just a joke. And directed towards Farkle. All jeers are reserved for our darling beanpole -- I’m not stupid enough to drag you.

Isadora: Appreciated. [ a beat ] I know nothing about my dad.

Maya: [ with a shrug ] I know my dad’s name and some basic facts about him, like his job, but nothing else.

Isadora: Have you ever considered getting in touch with him? What if he’s out there somewhere? Mine or yours.

Maya: When I was younger I thought about it… but he abandoned me, so what’s the point? If he wanted me in his life, I would be. He knows who I am and how to contact me, but he hasn’t. Why waste my precious time and energy dealing with him when I already have my mom? She’s all I need.

Isadora nods, considering this. Her father situation is quite different to Maya’s, so not all that helpful. Regardless, it’s something to think about. Maya is pensive, too, mind now occupied by thoughts of Katy. Isadora notices her shift in mood.

Isadora: You miss her?

Maya: [ with a theatrical sigh ] Always. [ then, a bittersweet smile ] It’s okay, every artist has to have their tragic backstory. It’s good. Gives me personal agony to work through.

Isadora: … well, actually --

Before she can say anything further, Farkle returns with an armful of snacks. He tosses them at Maya and Isadora.

Farkle: Here you go, little piggies. Oink oink.

Maya: You can’t say that to us, we’re women.

Isadora: We could have you cancelled for that.

Maya: Besides, as the only poor one present, I reserve all rights to the word pig. [ eyeing them ] Capitalist swine…

Farkle: Yeah, speaking of lack of funding...

The conversation moves on, back to fundraising, but Maya gets out her phone to send Katy a quick message letting her know that she misses her.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Shoes” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando

Kicking off the first official performance for the ‘70s theme, Asher launches us into number with an impressive opening note. He starts at the top of the stairs in the atrium, starting down the steps while singing towards Dylan, who’s waiting down below. When he sings “boy, to be with you is my favorite thing,” Dylan playfully points to himself and beams. They’re both dressed in modern-day approximations of disco garb -- colorful dress shirts, glossy vests with matching flare pants, funky patterned ascots.

And they’re setting the standard for what performances will be like without the usual stage of the auditorium. Their chosen location is the atrium, mostly empty as it’s during class hours, the rest of the A class scattered around the space to watch and provide back-up vocals (as well as their usual reactions and applause). Zay is particularly torn, clearly flipping between jealousy that he can’t be dancing and basically vibrating with the infectious groove.

In the case of Dylan and Asher, there is plenty to cheer for. They’re simply undeniably a joy to watch, especially with each other, and Dylan was right when he said disco is for the gays. They’ve got the night fever, full of energy and charm as they dance together. On the “woo!” during the bridge, Dylan lifts Asher in a funky little hop moment. And Asher’s vocal runs throughout are nothing to scoff at either.

It’s a smashing way to start the assignments off right!

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

As strong a showing as that little number was, the upbeat mood doesn’t last long. Stress dominates in the meeting between Maya, Yindra, Farkle, Jeff, and Isadora, who are deliberating on the current status of their showdown setlist. They’re attempting to analyze it and rework with the knowledge that Zay will not be able to participate, but it’s easier said than done.

Lack of focus doesn’t help matters. Farkle is noticeably zoned out, lost in his own head, and Maya has to snap at him to get him back at attention. This is not amateur hour! No time for spacing out, Farkle! He apologizes, but Isadora notices he still seems far away somehow.

The fervent discussion is immediately halted when Zay enters the studio, realizing they’ve all convened to work without him. He asks what gives.

Maya: It’s not personal, Zayby. But considering your current situation...

Zay: I’m still choreographer. Even if I’m not performing, I should be included in meetings. Especially if you’re talking about altering the routine.

Jeff: We’re not.

Farkle: At least, not right now.

Isadora, diplomatically: We just know that not being able to participate is difficult for you, so Riley suggested… we figured it would be better not to like… force you to deal with it. Or rub it in your face.

Maya: Exactly. See? We’re doing this for you.

How sweet. But Zay isn’t moved. He grows defensive, nodding along but dripping with sarcasm.

Zay: Great. Thanks. Well I guess if you need to drag me out of the recycling bin to comment on choreography, you all know how to reach me.

He storms out -- a bit unevenly on his boot -- leaving them awkwardly in his absence. Farkle clears his throat. The only who doesn’t seem uncomfortable is Maya, who shifts gears back to the matter at hand effortlessly. It’s just business, after all.

Maya: So star power --

INT. THRIFT SHOP - DAY

Riley is searching the racks for an outfit for the ‘70s dance, Charlie in tow. Every now and then, she’ll find a vintage shirt that’s his size and hold it up against his chest just on instinct, always on the lookout for her friends even if they’re not looking themselves.

Riley: It’s amazing how every color looks good on you. You should really consider branching out beyond neutrals and inoffensive shades of blue.

Tell us something we don’t know, Riles. Charlie brushes off her compliments, keeping his focus on the topic at hand while they shop. He’s seeking advice on how to handle arguing family members, since unfortunately, Riley has plenty of relevant experience with that. He’s had it in his family before with Bridgette, but he can’t remember much of it and honestly, one of the keys to their family dynamic is how most unpleasant things occur behind closed doors. Most of the time, they don’t even know when something is wrong with each other.

Riley: Do you have any more details? I feel like context would help.

Charlie: Nope. I only heard about it through Daisy, and when I tried to talk to Rosie, she wouldn’t budge.

Riley contemplates and admits she’s hesitant to try and give advice when the context is so vague and wide open, but ultimately the most important thing she thinks he could do is to continue being there for Rosie. He told her he was, and that’s the best he can do under the circumstances. If he actually witnesses another argument for himself, then that’s a different story.

Riley: But no matter what happens, try not to let yourself get caught in the middle of it. I mean, you should help where you can, but there’s nothing worse than trying to fix problems that aren’t yours and you can’t control. It’s between them, not you, and trying to mend it from the outside is only going to result in failure and frustration. You have to look out for your own well-being first. I wish someone had told me that before my parents fell apart.

Very important advice. Charlie thanks her and expresses sympathy for her messy parental situation again, but she shrugs it off and moves past it. Instead she finds another cute ‘70s material button down in classic sky blue, enthusiastically lifting it up to measure against Charlie.

Riley: Pair a blazer with this, and you’d be all set to boogie. Makes your eyes pop too… ugh, you’re so pretty it’s disgusting.

Charlie: I thought we were shopping for you, not me. I’m not the one who gets to disco.

Riley: Well, that’s not necessarily true. The fundraiser is open to everyone -- that’s the only way we’re going to make any profit, after all. And you know you’d be more than welcome.

Charlie: Yeah, maybe… with showdown so close and everything…

Riley: Charlie. [ holding his gaze ] You’re family. Forget showdown, forget east and west side. As long as I’m around, you fit. And I know for sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. Got it? Can you dig it?

Charlie, grateful: I can dig it.

Riley: Righteous. I’m serious though, what you should dig is this shirt.

As Riley shifts back to searching for her own look, they jump to chatting about college applications. Charlie asks how hers are going after she explains Lucas’s poorly concealed stress about them, and she claims they’re going fine.

Riley: I’m a pretty textbook candidate, all things considered, and my poor tragic backstory of being bullied out of school and divorced parents sure makes for great personal essay fodder.

Charlie: Kind of weird how they teach us to exploit our own trauma…

Riley: I’m definitely applying to Barnard, and I’ve decided I’m going to throw my hat in the ring for Tisch even though it’s basically the longest shot there is. Add in a handful of second choice picks and you get the idea. But honestly, I’m not all that pressed about it right now. I feel like it’s going to be way harder when acceptances and rejections come through and it’s all… real. I can throw any application out there I want and I don’t have to do anything about it. When I actually know what my options are… then it’ll be real. You know? When I actually have to decide what path I want to take. Because right now, I feel like I have no idea what I want that to be.

Charlie nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. He definitely knows the feeling of not having any idea what he wants the future to be… as the low hum of an unfamiliar instrument floats in…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Amazing Grace” as performed by The Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards || Performed by Dave Williams

In what is probably the weirdest performance AMBITION has seen to date, Dave stands alone in front of the classroom and goes to town on the bagpipes. Yes, apparently, Dave Williams can play the bagpipes (though whether he plays them well is a whole other story). And he gives it his all on this immensely famous tune, bewildering his peers and rendering them speechless.

That being said, while they can’t find any words, that doesn’t stop the A class from reacting. The expressions range from confused to stunned to struggling to keep it together. Maya stares in disbelief and then scrunches her face, looking around to see if anyone else is seeing this. Zay and Nigel are on the verge of tears from stifling their laughter; Yogi is misty-eyed from sheer emotion at his best friend’s… powerful performance. Nate mouths trying to sing along to the screechy tones with an absolutely delighted grin, while Dylan emulates the patriotic vibe by standing and giving a salute. Asher shakes his head from next to him, also hiding laughter behind his hand.

When Dave finally concludes, releasing a big exhale, the room is filled with silence for a long moment. Yogi starts the applause that the others uncertainly mimic, until Isadora finally, bluntly breaks the silence.

Isadora: Okay, I’m just going to say it -- what the hell, Dave?

Dave: What? Is something wrong?

Sarah: Where the hell did this come from? Are you seriously damaged?

Yindra: Forget that. I’m dying to know when you learned to play the bagpipes. And why have you deprived us of it for so long?

Farkle: The assignment is ‘70s music. How did you end up on “Amazing Grace?”

Dave, baffled: I don’t get what the big deal is. I found the song on a ‘70s playlist on Spotify, I can show you. And I looked it up -- the fig Newton dude wrote the song in 1779.

Clarissa: Fig newton --

Zay: [ at his wits end trying not to laugh ] I can’t. I can’t --

Dave: 1779! So it’s from the ‘70s.

All, in unison: 1970s, Dave!

Dave: … WHAT?!

The class descends into hysterics. Harper attempts to thank Dave for an… interesting performance, if nothing else.

Harley: I found it quite spirited. Very much enjoyed.

Dave huffs, marching back to his desk. He drops his bagpipes on the desktop --

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

Which becomes a soapy sponge landing with a splat on the hood of a car, Haley working to scrub it clean. A few more quick shots help establish the setting -- Jeff and Darby untangling hoses; Riley and Chai filling up buckets of water; Asher ringing out a washcloth as far away from his body as he can stretch it, mildly disgusted.

Yes, Maya’s new fundraising scheme is in full swing -- a car wash! Cars are lining up for the A class to give a shining clean-up. Considering they threw the concept together in just a couple of days, it’s really not a shabby showing. Maya is praising her own quick thinking by the pay table, where they’re also selling baked goods. Zay is manning the cash box, since he can’t do much else.

Maya: I swear, sometimes my own mind amazes me. Never lets me down. And you can’t go wrong with a good old-fashioned classic.

Zay: Yeah, except car washes are usually in the summer. Not the dregs of autumn when we’re all going to get hypothermia.

Maya: It’s actually unseasonably warm today. And that’s the brilliance of it. Who else is doing a car wash in this weather economy? No competition, big bucks.

At least the weather is nice. With them out in their cotton shorts and tees to do all this work, Zay’s right to have reservations. But the sun is out, and the income has been steady thus far. Nate finishes off drying a car with Dylan, who has his hair pushed back with a tie-dye bandana.

Nate: You know, we should all just wet our shirts. That will get the girls and gays to come running.

Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Don’t accelerate the hypothermia, Martinez. Keep it classy.

Nate: You’re turning down a million-dollar idea!

Maya waves him off, gesturing that he get back to work. And they all put it together real fast when another customer pulls up at the end of the line, EVELYN RAND emerging from her nice SUV and coming over to greet them. She commends them for their efficient set up.

Maya: That’s all thanks to me, Maya Penelope Hart. Vice President and overall go-getter. I’m the one that makes things happen.

Evelyn: And modest as they come, too.

Evelyn happily accepts Maya’s handshake, but she tosses a wink to Zay and Clarissa working the bake sale table. She claims she’s eager to help the cause, and she’s sure they’ll do an excellent job with her car. While she waits, she’s hoping to have a brief chat with Jack, so can she just leave her keys with them? She trusts them to move her vehicle twenty feet when it’s her turn.

Maya: Of course. We here in the A class pride ourselves on our care and attention. Your vehicle is safe with us.

Zay snorts, turning it into a cough. Evelyn hands over her keys pleasantly, waving to the rest of the kids working as she heads into the building. Maya spins the key ring on her finger for a moment, contemplating.

Maya: Can’t afford to screw this up. Gonna need someone extremely anal and annoyingly cautious to handle this one. [ into the bullhorn ] Garcia! Get your persnickety nonexistent ass over here!

Nigel arrives at that moment with a takeout bag in his hands. He tries to weave through the cars and avoid drill sergeant Maya as he heads towards the back entrance to the school, but unfortunately he’s not slick enough.

Maya: Chey! What do you think you’re doing? Cars are over here.

Nigel: Oh. Yes. Well, Jade’s holed up in the costume loft with all the projects she’s finishing…

Maya, unmoved: Uh huh.

Nigel: And I know she isn’t great about eating when she’s under this much stress, so I brought her some food to eat while she works. And I thought I’d go… give it to her… [ quickly ] okay, check you later.

He turns and speeds towards the entrance, making his swift escape. Riley saunters over to join them at the cash table, tilting her head fondly.

Riley: That’s so sweet.

Maya: Meh. A convenient excuse.

Zay: And how are you one to talk, Maya? You realize standing around shouting orders at everyone isn’t work.

Riley: Come on, Madam Vice President. Time to put in a little elbow grease.

Zay raises his eyebrows, accenting Riley’s challenge. Pride in jeopardy, Maya sniffs and relinquishes her bullhorn, placing it on the table. She spins and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, marching over to contribute to the cause. Riley and Zay exchange amused looks, while the boombox blasting the iconic opening hand claps takes over the soundscape...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Car Wash” as performed by Rose Royce || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)

You all knew it was coming. The moment we started scrubbing those fenders, you should’ve seen it coming. Maya leads the A class in a funky rendition of the disco classic, swaying her hips and swinging her ponytail as they put in the hard work (though, somehow, Maya still manages to avoid most of the heavy lifting). She handles most of the verses, though Yindra also takes some of the spotlight with vocal runs. Nate perfects his slutdrop as he cleans tires.

In the midst of the grooving, the business is bumping. Interspersed amongst the performing we see Clarissa and Dylan charming patrons at the bake sale table, money changing hands, and Zay dutifully keeping track of everything as he mans the pay station.

On the last chorus, Maya has made her way onto a roof of one of the cars, Yindra, Haley, and Darby emulating her on the other cars they’re working on. The A class does some rad synced choreography to take the number home, Maya sliding down the front windshield and kicking up her leg before Farkle makes the finishing swipe of a washcloth across the hood.

Car wash! Zay deposits another payment into the cashbox, snapping it closed with a flourish.

Evelyn’s car is now closer to the front of the pack, and more business is still coming. Charlie makes his way over from the parking lot, waving to Riley as he makes his way over to the tables. Clarissa and Dylan greet him cheerfully, Riley and Maya jogging over from the line of cars. Zay doesn’t say anything, but offers a hesitant smile, which is better than nothing. Charlie mirrors it.

Clarissa comes out from behind the table to give him a hug, but warns him not to let Haley see him -- she’s soaked and will probably get him all damp. Charlie claims he didn’t plan to stay long, he just wanted to come by and see how things were going, as well drop off some baked goods they could sell that he and his sisters made. Dylan takes them happily. Maya asks where his car is and what kind of wash he wants, which Charlie awkwardly laughs off.

Charlie: I wouldn’t make you guys do that. But I can make a contribution --

Maya: Please, what do you think this is, a pity party? We don’t accept charity.

Zay: Yes we do.

Clarissa: We’ll take all the charity you’ve got.

Maya: This is a business, and we provide a service. So put your boring little sedan in line and turn your patronization into profit.

Riley: Maya, if he doesn’t want --

Charlie: You know what? Okay. [ raising his hands in surrender ] I’ll take whatever the easiest job is. Meet in the middle.

Fair enough. Maya relents, going back to shouting orders at others. Zay shows Charlie what their pricing options are, and though Charlie is going for the cheapest one, he overpays anyway.

Charlie: What Maya doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Zay: Yeah, and it’ll probably save us.

They exchange something close to a conspiratorial wink. Riley senses that they’re actually communicating without imminent disaster, so she comes over to join them. Charlie asks how business is going -- it seems to be moving pretty swiftly. Riley is optimistic, claiming that between this and the dance -- which is garnering a lot of buzz on social media -- they may just cover their expenses yet. At mention of the dance, Riley makes a quip about how Charlie should’ve bought that shirt at the thrift shop to wear, which catches Zay’s attention.

Zay: You’re coming?

Charlie: Oh, no. No, I wasn’t, um… I hadn’t really thought about it.

Zay: Oh.

Charlie, shyly: … would it be okay if I did?

Zay meets his eyes, uncharacteristically timid. He doesn’t know what to say, because he honestly doesn’t know how he feels about the possibility. Things aren’t as tense as they were before, and they’ve managed to break some of the ice that’s frozen them in place, but it’s far from thawed. He doesn’t know if he wants it to be or not. It’s all confusing, and being put on the spot proves just how much.

He’s spared from answering when Isadora pipes up from the curb.

Isadora: Oh, fuck no.

Charlie jumps, turning to search for the problem. Zay leans around him to look too. The issue is not hard to identify.

The Haverford boys. A whole bunch of them, rolling up in their classy cars, totally filling up the back end of the car wash line. Billy honks obnoxiously in his, waving to the washers working further down the row.

Brandon hops out of his car, the rest of the boys following suit. He leads the saunter over to the tables, where Maya, Farkle, and Isadora rush to head them off. Charlie stares as they approach, obviously mortified that they’re here; Zay frowns, glancing at him suspiciously.

Maya: What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re blocking the line.

Dweezil: Blocking? Is that any way to speak to a customer?

Isadora: One we’re about to kick the hell out, yeah.

The congregation bristles, but Brandon holds up his hands -- both out of innocence and to signal his crew to halt. He remains smooth and unbothered as ever, calmly stating that they’re simply here to support the cause.

Brandon: It’s the least we could do, showing up for the less fortunate. We want showdown to be a fair fight, don’t we?

Maya: Oh, if that’s what you’re looking for, we can give you a fight.

[ Brandon raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by Maya’s sharp spunk. ]

Farkle: How did you all even hear about this?

Brandon: Why, I would think that’s obvious. Charles told us.

[ Many eyes throw to Charlie at once. He swallows, dipping his head. ]

Brandon: Well, technically, he told Evan, but I don’t see why he didn’t just share it with the boys. Evan was more than happy to pass the message along, though, and we all thought it was just a swell idea. Quaint, really.

Billy: Yeah, where’s the lemonade stand? You should jump on that hot market next.

But belittlement aside, they really are here to get their cars washed. That’s all. The A class can take it or leave it, but if they choose to turn away willing customers then that’s their prerogative.

Well… business is business. Maya forces a smile, keeping her diva daggers locked on Brandon as she instructs Isadora and Farkle to go start filling the buckets. Brandon holds her glare, evenly matched with his cool, subtle smirk.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is enjoying a catch-up with Angela over coffee, in generally good spirits all things considered. As he says, it’s nice to take a moment to forget all of the stress and just chat with a good friend. Angela is touched, placing her hand on her chest. She claims if her visit will be good for anything then, that’s a great reason.

The two of them get on the topic of her pregnancy, and how she’s feeling about impending motherhood. She confides that Shawn is way more nervous about it than she is, but ultimately she feels okay about it. Pregnancy isn’t the most fun experience in the world, but she has always thought that a family would be part of her future. Considering she’s not getting any younger, it feels like the right time.

She asks if Jack ever thought about having kids, and he grows a bit more somber. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it… and to be honest, he figured if he did he’d beat Shawn to it, but clearly that wasn’t in his cards. And now here he is, coming off a failed serious relationship, already in his 40s…

Angela: It’s never too late, Jack. If it’s something you really want. I mean, hell, look at Eric! He skipped all the hard stuff, too.

Jack: I guess that is one way to look at Isadora’s tragic loss…

Angela: I’m just saying, never say never. You’re a great mentor, responsible and fair, and you care. You care a lot. If you chose to try, whether by yourself or with a partner, I think you’d be a great dad.

Maybe… it all just feels so out of the realm of possibility. Besides, he argues, he basically has 200 kids at any given time to take care of. It’s not the same, no, but he watches out for the Adams students as seriously as he would his own. And you know, sometimes…

Jack: Every once in a while, it kind of feels like they are.

It’s not hard to guess who he’s thinking about. Angela starts to question him further, thinking this is probably a meaningful discussion to have, but they’re interrupted by Evelyn knocking briskly on the door. She greets both of them cheerfully.

Evelyn: So nice to see you again, Angela! I do hope I’m not intruding on anything important -- I meant to come sooner, but I got caught up in a riveting chat with Mister Keiner.

Jack: No, of course not.

Angela: In fact, I was just getting ready to head out, so I will get out of your hair.

Jack: I just wasn’t expecting you.

Evelyn: No need to rush, Angela. [ to Jack ] I’m just here to participate in that splendid car wash you’ve got out back. They’ve got a great little operation going, I have to say. And that Maya Hart -- talk about a firecracker.

Jack: Trust us, we’re quite familiar with her spark.

Angela bids both of them goodbye, promising Jack she’ll see him later. Once they’re alone, Evelyn commends Jack on inspiring his students to find creative ways to fund their financial endeavors. Especially given how their original proposal for the scholarships was voted down at the school board. In her opinion, she was hoping they’d at least contribute a portion -- she thought it was a nifty idea.

Jack: Yes, they weren’t thrilled to hear the decision either.

Evelyn: It’s disappointing, although hardly surprising considering the way Jefferson campaigned behind closed doors. He’s got a fairly influential stake in the voting bloc, unfortunately.

Jack: What? What do you mean?

Evelyn: Oh, Jack, I thought you already knew. It was an extremely close vote on the board to provide funding, but Jefferson tipped the scales against it. He and Yancy basically talked it down for days with colleagues before the actual tally.

Um, no, Jack did not know about that, and it obviously pisses him off. He’s speechless, trying to process the blatant partisan maneuvers being played against them within the inner workings of the board. Especially from someone who is now working within the walls of AAA. He knew Yancy didn’t like him, but this…

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

The Haverford boys are loitering while they wait for the A class to finish cleaning their cars, showing how completely unbothered they are to hang around and watch their competitors sweat. Charlie is also hovering to nervously keep an eye on things, staying with Clarissa at the baked goods table and nibbling on a sugar cookie.

From where he’s scrubbing Dweezil’s windshield dry, Nate glares at them derisively.

Nate: Rich pricks. I should smash this damn window…

Yogi: Easy, bulldog.

Dave: Just smile and wash, boys. Smile and wash.

Thankfully, they’re efficient, and it doesn’t take them long to grit their teeth through the work. Maya slaps her washcloth against Brandon’s hood, declaring it finished, then marches her way back over to where he’s slouched against a lamp pole near the pay table.

Maya: Alright, knock-off Warblers, your cars are done.

Evan: Warblers?

Dweezil: From Glee.

Billy: Ha! She thinks we watched Glee.

Bottom line is, their business here is done, so they can roll their asses out. Maya essentially shoos them, but Zay pipes up from the pay table.

Zay: Um, they can’t go yet. They’ve still got a tab to settle.

Maya: They didn’t pay upfront?

Billy: Well, couldn’t very well do that. Why would we pay you before we get any proof that you’re going to do a good job? It’s simply smart shopping.

Clarissa: Well, the job is done now. So you can pay up.

Brandon: Ooh… see, I think there might’ve been a misunderstanding here.

Charlie tenses, sensing impending doom. He steps out from behind the table in case he needs to mediate, just as Isadora and Farkle march back over with their buckets and rags to see what the hold up is. They’ve got other potential customers waiting.

Brandon: Another smart business practice is to agree on the terms and conditions before you make a deal. Now, we always knew our payment was going to be contingent on the quality of the work. Sure, Babineaux here laid out the pricing for us, but we didn’t get anything in writing. You didn’t get our John Hancocks signing off on it.

Zay: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Charlie, nervously: Come on, guys --

Maya: So you mean to tell me that we just spent the better part of an hour scrubbing your ungrateful little shits until they shined, and blocking other well-intentioned customers from coming in the meantime, only for you to stiff us at checkout?

Dweezil: At least we made you look busy.

Billy: Yeah, consider it practice. We know you could use all of that you can get.

Brandon: [ with a shrug ] Should’ve gotten it in writing.

Isadora: Yeah? Well how about you fucking get this --

She and Farkle snap first, lifting their buckets and sloshing them directly at Brandon. It catches him off-guard, totally dousing him in sudsy water.

Charlie: Oh no.

Riley, from the curb: Oh no.

Billy: Oh, hell no!

Hit the queen bee, feel the sting of the workers! The Havies immediately fire back, grabbing whatever they can get their hands on -- hoses, abandoned buckets -- and lobbing it back at Isadora and Farkle.

And with that, it’s a full-on brawl. Water and soap flying in every direction, the other Havies and Adams seniors launching into the battle without hesitation. Maya shrieks as she’s soaked, shouting for her classmates to take the Havies out. Zay salvages the cash box and dives under the table, taking cover.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is still searching for what to say in response to the bombshell information Evelyn dropped, but Harley leaps in the doorway and gets both their attention.

Harley: Major problem at the car wash. It’s completely devolved.

Jack exchanges a quick look with Evelyn, then jumps up from his chair.

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

Jack and Harley emerge as the water fight is in full swing, and basically everyone is dripping in soap water. Jack takes control and marches into the fray, stepping into authoritarian mode and demanding that all of the nonsense cease. The Adams students drop their weapons immediately, not daring to get even a drop on their principal.

Though he doesn’t command the same respect with the Haverford boys, they don’t push it any further. They got what they came for, managing to derail the car wash and pull a fast one on the A class. They cackle with laughter as they sprint back to their cars, piling inside in record time and peeling out of the parking lot.

Brandon’s car is one of the last to leave, catching the eye of Maya, Zay, and Charlie through the passenger window. He smirks and tosses a wink in their direction, but it’s impossible to say who it was meant for. Maybe all of them.

None of them look especially pleased either way. Maya shoots a death glare at Charlie, even though he arguably got the worst of it, completely drenched from head to toe. If he was in on the whole thing, he looks pretty miserable about it.

Break 1.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Now in fresh, comfy clothes and bare faces, Riley, Isadora and Maya lounge around in Isa’s bedroom. Maya’s hair is up in a towel wrap, while Riley’s is down and in the process of drying, and Isadora’s is pulled back into a messy bun. Isadora is also wearing her glasses rather than usual contacts. With a stretch, Maya hops from the bed.

Maya: I never want to work like that ever again. I’m exhausted, in pain, and starving. Is this Hell?

Riley: You truly weren’t built for working class, were you?

Tell her about it! Maya disappears to raid Eric’s fridge, leaving Riley and Isadora free from her complaints. Isadora uses the opportunity to pick Riley’s brain.

Isadora: What do you think our chances are in the showdown? Full disclosure.

Riley: Full disclosure? Not great. [ with a sigh ] But we could still pull through. If we work hard enough, and come together to --

Isadora: I don’t need the full spiel, but thanks. I know how stressed Lucas and Maya are about it, and I’m considering -- considering is the key word here -- offering to perform. You know, if it would help.

Riley’s face lights up, but upon seeing Isadora’s level glare, tries to suppress her smile. She fails.

Isadora: Don’t look at me. Forget I said anything.

Riley: Aw, come on. I’m happy you’re thinking about it yourself instead of, like, being peer pressured by Maya or something.

Isadora: She’s very nearly at her breaking point, I can tell. Every day her will to just let me be is deteriorating bit by bit.

Riley: I think… not to get too Uncle Eric here, but I feel like because you keep thinking of performing as doing it in front of an audience, like being judged, it’s holding you back. You should just do it for the joy of it. Why were you drawn to performing in the first place?

Isadora, reluctantly: … because it was fun...

Riley: Exactly! Because it’s fun. You have to have fun with it.

In fact… Riley brightens with an idea, reaching for her phone and searching for a song.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Marmalade” as performed by LaBelle || Performed by Riley Matthews, Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

As the bass and keys begin, Riley stands up on Isadora’s bed, pulling her up with her. Riley sings the initial “hey sister, go sister” to Isadora, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the bed, not looking all that impressed.

In the first verse, Maya walks into the room with her haul from the kitchen. Her mouth opens when she sees Riley singing.

Maya: Are we doing this? Okay, we’re doing this.

She drops the snacks without a care, jumping onto the bed to join Riley -- just in time for the chorus. They move around Isadora as they belt out iconic vocals, trying to get her in the groove.

Maya takes on the second verse with Riley on the backing vocals. Although Isadora tries to remain stoic, she can’t help but begin to vibe with them. By the end of the next chorus, she’s singing along, too. In French, no less! But maybe let’s not look up the lyric translation…

In the instrumental break, the three girls get down from the bed and strut forwards towards the door. They pass through it one at a time, puffs of makeup and glitter blowing around them in slow-mo as they do.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

This time, the temporary performance space is the lecture hall, which is an inspired choice since it actually has a pseudo-stage and lighting capabilities.

When they emerge onto the small stage, they’re in full glam. Hair glossy, makeup glowing, and outfits iconique. They each wear a skintight jumpsuit along with oversized faux fur coats. Riley’s getup is a white jumpsuit and yellow coat, Isadora’s is a blue jumpsuit and pink coat, and Maya’s is a pink jumpsuit and white coat. They strut to the front of the stage, spotlights on them.

Isadora takes charge of the next verse, confidently singing and dancing with her friends by her side. Riley and Maya come in towards the end, before all three complete the rest of the song together. It’s glamorous, it’s sultry, it’s powerful. Foxy, ladies!

We fade out of the performance to see the rest of the class and Harper as they applaud. Although the girls don’t look quite as glam out of the performance-dreamscape, they look just as badass. Lucas and Farkle in particular seem stunned by the performance.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Zay hands over the cash box from the car wash to Lucas.

Zay: Despite the carnage, the most important thing survived.

And, in spite of the disastrous end, it seems like they made good for their work. They raked in a pretty penny for all the scrubbing and washing -- it’s far from all that they need, but it should make a sizable dent in the auditorium accident debt. And that’s not nothing.

Lucas thanks Zay for his help and for watching the money, getting up to put it in a safe place in the booth. He claims he can’t do it until Zay leaves, though, since there are certain things only he should know about the booth. Zay rolls his eyes but obliges, throwing in an offhand comment about how weird he is before slowly making his way out.

As he’s heading down the steps, he passes by Missy, who is casually making her way up into the booth. Like she goes up there all the time, like it’s no big deal. She even greets Zay as they pass, which he uncertainly returns. He frowns at her over his shoulder as she heads on up, obviously confused by her presence.

As confidently as she enters, Lucas evidently wasn’t expecting her either. He jumps when she addresses him, moving away from wherever he stashed the car wash cash. When he realizes it’s her, his posture grows even more defensive.

Lucas: What are you doing in here?

Missy: Only what anyone would deem visiting this musty space worthy for. I’m looking for you.

Lucas: I don’t know if you missed the memo, but people don’t waltz in here whenever they want. No matter how privileged they are.

Missy laughs, allowing him the dig. Following their increasingly common rapport, back-and-forth that straddles the line between friendly fire and hostility depending on your lens. She maintains innocence as she waits for him to settle back in his usual chair, claiming she only wanted to discuss the current A class financial crisis.

Missy: I heard your little car wash wasn’t half-bad. Congratulations are in order. Though I don’t believe I heard much about you out there breaking a sweat to wash those vehicles...

Lucas: You can congratulate the rest of the class when you see them.

Missy: Shame. I’d think if we put you out there front and center, you might’ve garnered a greater profit.

Lucas: Please.

Missy: You shouldn’t undersell yourself, Lucas. It worked for Chubbies, did it not?

If her increased patronage is any indication, then technically, yes. But Lucas doesn’t seem keen to acknowledge that. She moves closer and hops onto the lighting booth table, crossing her glossy legs where they are in perfectly accessible view. In a place where Riley often sits. It just feels wrong. Lucas averts his gaze, looking down at the soundboard instead.

Missy: Anyway, as cute as the fundraising effort is, I don’t exactly see the point.

Lucas: Well, for those of us not in the 1%, there’s this annoying everyday thing we have to do called “acquiring money.” I’m sure that’s probably confusing for you --

Missy: I meant for Adams. Or for the A class, more specifically. I don’t see why you all should be out there sweating through manual labor… when you could just ask me for the money.

Oh. Well that’s… an interesting proposition. Lucas is surprised she’s even offering it, enough to lift his head again to meet her eyes.

Lucas: … it’s hundreds of dollars…

Missy, coolly: Drop in the bucket. [ looking him over ] Surely you would know that by now.

Lucas hesitates, contemplating. Missy observes him, watching for the chinks in his armor. Those rare moments when he’s not as aloof and disdainful as their banter leads her to believe.

Lucas: I don’t see why you would help when it does nothing to benefit you.

Missy: Isn’t helping the class helping me in the end? [ off his skeptical eyebrow raise ] And oh, they’ll find a way to pay us back somehow. Every debt gets paid eventually. Name on an auditorium seat, plaque outside the lecture hall. That’s the charity solution to everything, slapping your name on something. I’m sure daddy would love to have the Bradford name in gold somewhere in this heap considering the chilly reception Hunter gave us when all this started.

Missy found about a dozen unintentional trigger words to throw in that sentence to change Lucas’s tune. Whether the most credit can be given to the word “charity,” or invoking Jack in a negative light is debatable, but Lucas is suddenly even stonier than before. He clenches his jaw.

Missy, softer: It’s not like you haven’t already accepted donations from the Bradford fortune… and that’s lightened the load, hasn’t it? Nothing wrong with that. [ a beat ] And you and me… I wouldn’t call us friends, but we certainly have… our own thing here. Don’t we? We… mean something. To one another.

Lucas drops his gaze again, cornered. The very insinuation that they have a relationship in any capacity makes him uncomfortable… but then, it’s not wrong, is it? If he’s willingly taking her money, knowingly, then that does symbolize some sort of association. He can’t in good conscience deny it, not when her money is a big chunk of the reason his future is even possible. And she could take all the pressure off them, off him, in an instant… no more fundraising… no more sweating over showdown… scholarships guaranteed…

But his instincts are stronger than that. It’s too good to be true. Everything comes with a cost, and while he might be willing to risk that here and there for his own feeble endeavors, he’s not going to tie his legacy and the rest of the class to it. He returns her eye contact, resolute.

Lucas: If your family wants to donate to the cause, then by all means do. But I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t beg.

Well said and well meant! For what it’s worth, Missy doesn’t seem put off by the rejection. If anything, she seems impressed by his stubborn resistance, even if she knows damn well it’s full of contradictions. Impressed, and definitely stirred by that same fire that captivated her the first time they met during the school board trial. The tension in the air makes that loud and clear.

Missy: No, no you don’t, do you. All part of your… provocative charm.

Message received, it appears… some message, at least… Missy slips off the table and begins to make her exit, assuring Lucas that she understands his perspective. Some things are better kept quiet, and she gets his need to maintain appearances -- and his pride.

Missy: It’s our little secret. And I get where we stand. [ with a smirk ] I think we understand each other better than one might assume.

The mere notion makes Lucas a bit queasy, but he keeps his mouth shut. Missy bids him adieu and disappears down the steps, wishing the Slumdog President the best of luck with his continuing financial campaigning.

Even once she’s gone, Lucas can’t shake off the discomfort of her presence. He has to get up, walk it off, gathering his things and fleeing from the space -- one of the few he’s never felt the need to escape from before.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - COURTYARD - DAY

Charlie is having lunch with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, occupying their typical table in the grassy outdoor space. She listens attentively as he catches her up on all of the stuff with their sisters, Charlie clearly seeking counsel from the one person who has been on the other side of this potential falling out. Does she think he should be worried, based on her own experience?

Bridgette: And you haven’t seen any of this for yourself?

Charlie: No, at least not yet. But I don’t think that means much -- I had no idea most of this stuff was going on with you until it was already way too late. When I first saw you having arguments with mom, it was volcano level.

Bridgette: To be fair, you were what, 14? Even younger than that when it all started. But true. Our family is really good at concealing the ugly, and then pretending it doesn’t exist when the moment has passed.

Charlie: And this is coming from Daisy. You know she wouldn’t make things up just for the hell of it.

Bridgette: Also true. She sure is an unaffected little freak. [ a beat ] I say that with love. Every Gardner has to be fucked up one way or another.

Still, with so little firsthand information, it’s hard to say. She doesn’t think Charlie should tie himself in knots trying to problem-solve something he can’t see, but…

Bridgette: Look out for Rosie if you can. You know, keep an eye out. If history is going to repeat itself, and she’s following in my forsaken footsteps… I don’t want her to go through that. She shouldn’t have to go through what I went through. Not that I’m not fine now --

Charlie: Right.

Bridgette: But she’s not tough like I am. And I mean that in the best way possible. Rosie… she’s sensitive. Sweet. Her heart is right there on her sleeve, even if she tries to act like she’s all grit. [ softly ] Reminds me of another sibling I’ve got.

Charlie smiles, but underneath the kind words she’s confirming his concerns. If the stormy energy around Rosie does whip up into a hurricane, then it’s looking more and more likely to be an unavoidable disaster. History may just repeat itself -- and more brutally than before.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Rosie isn’t the only one in a tempestuous mood. Jade is in full-on crunch mode as her deadlines loom ever closer, and even though she’s been basically holed up in the costume loft at all hours she still feels miles from the finish line. She’s skipping lunch to wrap up a couple of last-minute additions to another piece of her portfolio, using Asher as her mannequin. Currently, he’s sporting a rather fancy, outlandishly patterned and bold blouse over his maroon polo. It looks like it could be a ‘70s dance shirt, or the wardrobe of a funky, flamboyant villain, or perhaps an especially stylish swashbuckling pirate… but it’s a Jade Beamon original, so it looks fantastic.

If only the job of mannequin was as fun as the clothes he’s modeling. Asher is gritting his teeth so hard they might crack, cringing every time Jade threads her needle through a piece of it or sticks a pin somewhere. She’s an expert, a professional, but given her stress level she’s missed the mark more than once the last couple of days.

Jade, snapping: If you didn’t wince every two seconds like a little baby, then maybe I would stick you less.

Asher: [ through his teeth ] The two dozen pin prick battle scars I have beg to differ!

Nigel picks that moment to enter, catching the tail-end of their sharp exchange and clocking the vibes immediately. He hesitates by the door, not sure whether he should come in and interrupt anymore or not, but Jade spots him before he can duck out. She immediately loses some of her unpleasantness, straightening up and clearing her throat.

Jade: Nigel.

Nigel: Um… hello. [ holding up lunch ] I know you’re working through lunch again, so I just thought I’d bring something by.

Jade: Oh, that’s… that’s nice. You don’t have to keep doing that.

Nigel: It’s all good. I like being able to help. It’s the least I could do, make sure you eat.

Asher: Someone should.

Jade: I’m still holding pins, Asher…

As if that wasn’t signal enough, Nigel bravely ventures the question of how costuming is going this afternoon. Jade claims it’s all fine, and Asher repeats her comment in a tone that makes it very clear he doesn’t agree. Sensing that the best friends might benefit from a break from one another, Nigel offers to hang around and be her stand-in for a while.

Jade: Really?

Asher, hopeful: Really?

Nigel: Sure. All I have to do is stand there and look pretty, right? Think I can manage that. You know, if I clear the costumer’s standards, of course.

Jade: No, no you -- of course. Of course you do. You’re more than -- obviously, you’re up to standard. I mean, above. I, um…

Asher can’t help but laugh, but he hides it behind a fake sneeze. Jade shoots him a glare, then states it would be preferable actually for him to take Asher’s place for now. It seems like Bird Bones agrees, hopping down from the step stool and carefully removing the fanciful top.

Asher: It’s for the best anyway. I’m supposed to be helping Dylan proofread his college essays. I want to check mine one more time too -- Jade says reading them over seven times is more than enough, but pot meet kettle.

Nigel: A Dylan Orlando personal essay, huh? I’d pay to see that.

Asher: I’m sure he’d let you read it for no charge. One of the applications he’s filling out had the prompt to “describe a work of art from the last century that surprised, inspired, or challenged you and in what way,” so he wrote a whole thesis statement on why Taylor Swift’s album Lover is the most important contribution to art, culture, and society since the invention of music.

Nigel: Wow.

Jade: Of course he did.

Asher: I’ll be genuinely surprised if it’s not a video essay on his vlog in like four months. But you know what, no admissions officer can say he doesn’t have enthusiasm.

True that! Asher makes his grateful exit, handing the piece over to Nigel and wishing him luck. Jade giggles nervously once they’re alone, Nigel smiling and asking if he should just put the shirt on and stand where Asher was. She confirms, avoiding her gaze by digging through her sewing kit until he’s all set and ready to be pinned and needled.

Nigel: I hope I’m doing your work justice.

Jade: You, um… it’s good. You’re good. Ha ha.

She nervously pushes some hair behind her ear, then steps closer to get back to work. If anything can overpower shyness, it’s the stress of an impending deadline upon which your entire future rests. Jade softly explains to Nigel what she’s doing as she does it, since he’s never been her model before, and reassures her that he’s not worried and she can do whatever.

Nigel: I trust you, Jade. You are the expert, after all.

Jade glances up at him, processing the compliment. The declaration of trust. The fact that they’re standing so close, that if he just stepped down off the stool they’d be close enough to… it’s a lot. Sophomore year Jade would probably have ran and hid by now, if not passed out.

But this is the present, and Jade has work to do. So she swallows her butterflies and focuses on her needlework.

Quiet settles over them for a minute, then Nigel speaks again, barely above a whisper.

Nigel: You’re incredible, you know that?

Jade: Huh?

Caught by surprise, Jade’s hand slips… and accidentally sticks Nigel with the needle. He winces and she immediately launches into apologies, retracting her hands to drop the needle and asking if he’s okay. He promises he’s fine, keeping her from spiraling over it by taking her hand so she can’t drift any further away in retreat.

Nigel: Really, I’m good.

Jade: … so you were saying?

Nigel: Yeah. I just wanted you to know… I hope you know how amazing you are. I know you’re super stressed about all this and what these schools and programs are going to think of you, but they’d be insane to reject you.

Jade: I don’t know if I’d go that far.

Nigel: I would. I mean, you’ve made basically every costume we’ve worn for the last three years -- which I know everyone keeps throwing back at you -- and they’re fantastic. Not just because they look good, which they always do, but they’re durable. No matter how gorgeous they look, they can withstand a lot. When we finish a production, they’re worn in, but it’s still as if they’re freshly stitched. That’s impressive. Trust me, I’ve been in enough local Shakespeare productions to say so. One time a piece of my tunic fell off in the middle of the first act.

Jade laughs, charmed by the story and calmed enough by his gentle tone to actually breathe. Nigel smiles at her, fond.

Nigel: You’re reliable. That’s the best thing a person can be, in my opinion. And you’re talented to the extreme, hard-working, humble… I mean, is there anything you can’t do?

Jade: [ with a snort ] Socialize.

The word slips out, and Jade is instantly embarrassed by it. She hides her blush in digging to grab her needles again, going back to work as an excuse not to elaborate.

Nigel: Seriously? You’ve never struck me as without company. With the techies --

Jade: Oh, yeah, that’s the height of engagement. Just me and a bunch of emotionally inept teenage boys plus Dora, getting up to the same old shenanigans. Every girl’s dream. [ with a sigh ] Don’t get me wrong, I love them. Especially Asher, he’s my best friend. And I’m not saying I’m like, a recluse or anything, I have friends, I just… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. Sorry.

Nigel: No worries. I don’t mind. But for what it’s worth, I don’t see you that way. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. I know I am. [ a beat ] Or like, any kind of relationship…

Jade coughs, not prepared for that. She giggles compulsively again, frantically brushing off the thought as she focuses intently on pinning a piece of the fabric into place.

Jade: I haven’t… ha, I’m so busy, I… a relationship… I don’t have the time to even…

Though she can’t form a coherent sentence, Nigel gets the message. Not available right now. And he admittedly looks a bit disappointed, but he puts his acting credit to use and swiftly covers with another smile.

Nigel: Well, again. Anyone would be lucky. And in the meantime, I’m just happy to support you however I can. Even at risk of puncture wound.

Jade absorbs this, unable to hold back her shy smile. She murmurs a thank you, then hides by throwing all her attention to the task at hand.

But for Nigel, the only thing he can focus on is her. So incredible… and so close… as the easy bass line floats in…

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “How Deep Is Your Love” as performed by Bee Gees || Performed by Nigel Chey (feat. Dylan Orlando)

The lights are low and the set-up is simple, just Nigel on the stage with a microphone stand and sporting the finished product of one of Jade’s ‘70s costumes -- a glossy gold suit, styled like Saturday Night Fever, over a black silk shirt. He’s shimmering like a disco ball under the stage lights, reflecting the whimsical, dreamy quality of the number.

The only other person on the stage with him is Dylan, accompanying him on bass and providing back-up vocals. He’s dressed much simpler, dressed in black and wearing his custom-made Jade Beamon original suit jacket from junior prom. His hair is the ‘70s-ified element, swept up and combed back like John Travolta. While he happily lets Nigel hog the spotlight, he does take a moment in the performance to wink to Asher in the audience.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Intercut with the performance, we check back in with Nigel and Jade in the loft, doing a metaphorical dance of their own around each other as Jade costumes. There’s something surprisingly amorous about the set-up when it’s paired with the ballad. Jade remains oblivious, studiously sewing away, but the romantic tension is more than apparent, in Nigel’s expression and the smooth delivery of his vocals as he looks at her.

And you may not think I care for you When you know down inside that I really do…

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

While she’s good at avoiding him while at work, Jade can’t keep her eyes off Nigel during the performance. Clarissa, Haley, and Asher cast knowing glances at her, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. In the back seats, Nate, Dave, and Jeff sway along to the beat playfully.

Cause we're living in a world of fools Breaking us down when they all should let us be

Ultimately, though, even if certain truths remain unsaid, what can’t be denied is an excellent performance. Nigel brings it home with grace, understated as always but, in this case, pretty swoonworthy.

We belong to you and me…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay is on the phone with Riley, the latter walking him through all of the bulletins from that day’s showdown discussion. He listens eagerly, living vicariously, but it’s obvious he’s also frustrated that he’s being excluded. He reminds Riley that they can call on him at any time to brainstorm on choreography or reevaluate concepts, but she gently waves him off by insisting she doesn’t want to put any additional pressure on him.

Zay: Well, to be honest, not being consulted kind of makes me feel more --

Riley: Oh, shoot, Maya’s here. She’s supposed to be meeting with Farkle after his therapist appointment this evening, so I’m sure she just has a bunch of notes she wants to Maya-splain to me first.

Zay: If she wants to get on speaker, then she could --

Riley: I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’ll let you know if anything major happens. Love you!

Zay: But Riley --

She hangs up before he can get a word in, even a goodbye. He sighs and drops his phone on his bed, pulling his laptop back towards him. He has his applications webpage open, where he’s painstakingly attempting to piece together the final elements of his portfolio. It’s not in bad shape, but with the glooming reality of his booted foot and inability to make anything more, it doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like being trapped.

He grabs his phone again, obviously wanting to talk to someone about it. But he can’t talk to Riley -- he knows she’s busy. He can’t talk to Yindra. He can’t talk to Maya -- and nor would he want to, thank you very much.

Charlie…

He could talk to Charlie. God, he wants to talk to Charlie. And they’ve opened up the lines of communication again, haven’t they? Couldn’t it be easy, like it was before? All he has to do is say something… but he doesn’t know what that would be. It’s still confusing and twisted up inside him. And whatever happened with Haverford at the car wash is admittedly suspicious, though it just doesn’t feel right to think Charlie would do something like that.

Confusing. Complicated. Stuck. He’s stuck, stuck, stuck.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle plops down onto Dr. Han’s couch, releasing a dramatic sigh and telling her there’s much to discuss (as there usually is). He starts to rattle off about the showdown drama because of Zay’s injury and how he and Isadora dumped water on their greatest rival at the moment, but Dr. Han carefully interrupts. She explains that there’s actually something she wants to open this appointment with, something that she thinks it’s important to start exploring as soon as possible. Farkle is confused but intrigued, sitting upright and gesturing for her to go on.

She turns to her notes, pulling out a couple of prepared informational sheets and taking on a gentler, more professional tone. She explains that after their last few meetings, she thought a lot about some of the patterns Farkle had been mentioning in his recovery. She decided to follow her hunch and do a little more research, and she thinks she’s landed on what might be the root after conferring with his primary care physician.

Dr. Han: It’s my belief that you show all the clear symptoms of bipolar disorder.

It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room. Farkle freezes, staring at her, but words stop making sense. She continues to explain how common it is for it to be misdiagnosed as depression, how now they can focus on proper treatment for his actual affliction, how it’s just as manageable with the right approach, but it’s like she’s talking underwater. Everything feels hazy, static, like Farkle is suddenly a thousand miles away.

Farkle: No. No, I -- I can’t be.

Dr. Han: I understand that an unexpected diagnosis can be intimidating. And bipolar disorder, like most mental conditions, is shrouded in a lot of misrepresentation and stigma. But with the right perspective --

Farkle: I’m not. I can’t… I have to go.

Farkle blankly gets to his feet, suddenly certain he has to get out of there. It’s like he’s underwater now too, like he can’t breathe. Dr. Han warns that he’s likely just having a strong reaction to the news, anxiety, but she assures him that the diagnosis does not change anything about him or his prospects. If anything, it will improve things, because now they can confront his reality with the right tools. And it will be safest for him to just relax here and process it during their session.

But no, Farkle can’t stay. He numbly repeats that he has to go, ignoring Dr. Han’s disagreement and stepping out of the office.

INT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Farkle doesn’t stop until he’s fully out of her space, back in the endless office sprawl of a building like this. He waits a moment, dreading Dr. Han chasing after him and dragging him back in there, but she doesn’t come. He collapses back against the door, releasing a shaky exhale and screwing his eyes shut.

Bipolar. He’s bipolar.

A gentle piano begins to play, an iconic familiar riff while we stay close on Farkle’s face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All By Myself” as performed by Eric Carmen || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux

Farkle takes the first lines of this legendary ode to isolation, singing them softly as the camera slowly eases away from him. The further away we pull, the more his sense of smallness grows, dwarfed by the hallway that seems to stretch on forever.

When I was young, I never needed anyone… those days are gone…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay pushes off his mattress and rises to his feet, going a bit too fast at first out of habit and nearly stumbling on his bad ankle. He cringes, falling back on the edge of the bed to right himself. He huffs and hides his head in his hands, easing into the next lines.

Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home…

EXT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - NIGHT

Farkle emerges onto the steps of the building in the financial district just in time to launch into the chorus. He carries on singing as he begins to make his way home, weaving through the streets and other passersby as if he’s invisible. Although he’s clearly emotional, it’s evident the information hit him hard, because he’s not at all at his usual level of verve.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay keeps it tamped down whenever it passes back to him as well, though his limitations are outside of his control. He spends his portion of the vocals at his window, leaning out to breath in the life and excitement of the city he loves that he feels so locked out of.

Whether within or without the city, for vastly different reasons, both Zay and Farkle are feeling the same ache.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle makes it home in time for the piano solo, showing off his proficiency on the instrument lest we dared to forget. Then he and Zay harmonize on the final, showstopping chorus, delivering a whammy even when they’re not quite in top form.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay rounds out the number, stepping away from his window and shutting it forlornly.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya is back to brainstorming in the Minkus home as promised, pacing in front of the moodboard they’ve been working off of for weeks. She’s avidly running through potential pitfalls to their showdown prospects, which seem to be piling up by the minute, while Farkle is seated on the edge of his bed. He’s stone-faced, truly lost in his own head now, and Maya doesn’t fail to notice. As she’s ticking off more items on their doomsday list, she halts and gives him an unimpressed glare.

Maya: … and an inattentive diva. [ snapping in his face ] Farkle! Earth to Farkle!

Farkle: What? Oh, sorry.

Maya: I swear, you have been exceptionally offbeat this week. Of all the times, too, naturally it would be our greatest time of crisis that your zany passion eludes us. Honestly, Farkle, where for art thou? Why have you abandoned me in our time of need?

Farkle: I’m bipolar.

Maya: Okay? And I’m a narcissist. Just because we use pretty words doesn’t change the state of the union, darling.

Farkle, shaky: No, like, I’m literally bipolar.

Maya pauses, actually looking at him. His tone convinces her that he’s not being cheeky, and his sallow expression drives it home. Her demeanor shifts instantly, dropping much of her diva arrogance.

Maya: What?

Farkle: I’m bipolar. I don’t know how many more times I can say it.

Maya: I heard you, I just -- when? How?

Farkle: My whole life, presumably. How, ask God for me.

Maya: Well… well, like, what does that mean? Like, so you’re bipolar, well, what does that mean for --

Farkle: I don’t know. I don’t know, my psychiatrist just told me. I didn’t… I didn’t do a great job of listening to what came after that.

Wow. Silence reigns as Maya attempts to process this new information. Farkle speaks again, even more uncharacteristically timid than before.

Farkle: I know this is bad timing. Just… with this, and everything at school, I don’t know how on top of it I can --

Maya: No, no, of course not. Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about all that. You need to focus on yourself. On this. Don’t worry about Triple A. I’ll handle it.

Farkle: But Maya --

Maya: I’ve got it. It’s okay.

She pats his shoulders reassuringly, then turns it into a hug. Farkle hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace, desperately leaning into the comfort. Maya remains stalwart for the both of them, features intense as her mind runs to problem-solve a million miles an hour. Based on the furrow of her brow, it seems she might already be onto something.

Maya: I’m going to handle it.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley, Isadora and Eric sit around the dining table, chatting casually after finishing their meals. Eric looks between the two girls with a warm smile before offering to clear up.

Riley: I’ll help.

Riley gets up to help Eric clean away the plates, but Isadora places a hand on Riley’s arm to stop her. Riley gives her a questioning look.

Isadora: I actually… I have something I want to show you. In my room. [ to Eric ] If that’s okay?

Eric: Of course, go ahead. I’m perfectly capable of filling up the dishwasher on my own.

Intrigued, Riley follows Isadora into her bedroom.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora goes straight to her desk and opens up a notebook to reveal Valerie’s letter. She passes it to a confused Riley, who takes a moment to look over it. When she realizes what it is, she looks up at Isadora with wide eyes.

Riley: Is this…?

Isadora: [ with a nod ] A letter to my father. I found it in one of Val’s boxes. You’re the first person I’m telling so don’t… don’t tell Eric or anything.

Riley: Oh, totally. Sure. [ a beat as she scans through the pages ] Why aren’t you telling him, though?

Isadora: I don’t really know how I feel about it yet.

Riley guides Isadora to her bed, where they both sit. She collects her thoughts.

Riley: Did you know anything about your dad before now?

Isadora: No. I asked about him a few times, like ages ago, but Valerie always claimed she didn’t know who he was. I can’t tell if she was lying or not; I don’t even know when she wrote this.

Riley: It seems like she didn’t really think about it until he wrote to her. And it definitely seems like he wants to be part of your life. [ a beat ] Do you want him in your life?

Isadora: I don’t know. I don’t even know what that would look like. My gut is screaming at me that it’ll end in disaster, like it always did with my mom, but at the same time… like, I’ve gotten by fine without a dad until now, but it does feel there’s a part of me missing. What if it’s him?

It’s clear that she’s been thinking it over a lot. Riley admits that she isn’t sure what she could say to help considering her complete lack of experience in this department, but suggests again that she should talk to Eric.

Isadora: I’m scared to.

Riley: What? Why?

Isadora: I don’t want him to think that he’s not enough for me. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to ruin it.

Riley places a hand on Isadora’s shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. Isadora responds by resting her head on Riley’s shoulder, so Riley moves her arm to wrap around her.

Riley: You know how much Eric cares for you. There’s nothing you could do to ruin it. You’re part of the Matthews family forever now, no matter who your father is and whether you meet him or not.

Isadora: You’re my favorite cousin.

Riley: I won’t tell Auggie you said that. And you’re my favorite cousin, too.

Riley plants a kiss on Isadora’s cheek with a ‘muah.’ Isadora pulls a face of disgust and escapes from her grasp as Riley giggles.

Isadora: Minus five cousin points. Auggie’s in the lead now.

Riley: Nooo!

She chases after Isadora, trying to engulf her in a hug as both girls laugh.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is back from a late rehearsal for showdown, changing out of his Haverford uniform. He strips off his shirt and places it in the laundry hamper, checking how his clothes from the car wash are faring.

Still damp. At this rate, it feels like they’re never going to go back to normal.

Suddenly, the house below him erupts with sound, voices being raised in the kitchen downstairs. It goes without saying, but raised voices are almost non-existent in the Gardner household. Charlie freezes, listening intently until he recognizes exactly what he’s dreading -- a higher-pitched, defensive voice. Rosie’s voice.

He drops the wet clothes and reaches for the first top he can find -- which just happens to be an AAA sweatshirt -- and yanks it on as he rushes into the hall.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

This time, there’s no question as to whether there is a fight. Rosie and ELEANOR GARDNER are more heated than we’ve ever seen either of them onscreen, yelling at one another and cheeks flushed. Rosie is particularly loud, in near hysterics since she’s young, emotional, and also on defense; Eleanor maintains a cool, superior tone even as she raises her volume.

Charlie slides into the room right in the thick of it, jumping in the middle without hesitation and questioning what the heck is going on. When he can get them to acknowledge him, Eleanor actually seems pleased by his presence, openly welcoming him into the argument.

Eleanor: Oh, perfect, just what we needed. A second opinion. Rosamund, why don’t you tell your brother why you’re in trouble? Go on.

Rosie, on the other hand, is not receptive to Charlie joining the conversation. She loses a lot of her fire, shrinking back and face flushing in embarrassment. Eleanor scoffs, though it seems like this is exactly how she expected her to react.

Eleanor: What’s the matter? Are you suddenly shy? You sure were loud enough arguing back to me about it, and now you won’t tell Charlie?

Charlie: Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!

Eleanor: Gladly!

Eleanor pointedly places Rosie’s phone on the countertop, which she’s been holding the whole time. It’s open to an Instagram photo on an unfamiliar page, one of Rosie’s new friends at her gifted high school. It’s a series of photos from some hangout the freshmen were having, but the photo in question surprisingly features another familiar player -- a bunch of the freshmen are sitting around and laughing, and Rosie is grinning while sitting on the lap of URI MINKUS.

It’s pretty innocent, but the implications are enough. Eleanor relays the whole tale, how one of Rosie’s friends from Catholic school told their mom about the photo in her tagged images and the mother was kind enough to inform Eleanor about it. This is already after a discussion she had with Rosie over this boy when she saw them interacting in a less-than-acceptable manner after school when she picked her up. She thought they had cleared it all up, but apparently not, between this photo and the fact that the text messages between her and this Jewish boy are nothing if not flirtatious.

Rosie: You shouldn’t have even been going through my texts anyway!

Eleanor: Oh, shouldn’t I? I didn’t realize you were the authority now! Privacy is a privilege, Rosamund, and you’re continuing to prove that you haven’t earned it!

They continue to escalate again, Charlie bewildered as he slides the phone towards him to get a better look. The photo really is so… nothing, and the whole argument feels so blown out of proportion. But Charlie knows the patterns, he knows what Bridgette warned him about, and all of the shouting and conflict is making him lightheaded.

Charlie, weary: Stop arguing.

Eleanor: I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to the gifted school. I knew you’d be better off staying in the Catholic system.

Rosie: Then why did you let me go?!

Eleanor: Maybe I shouldn’t have! Maybe that’s the thing I shouldn’t have done! In fact, maybe I’ll have to put a call into the deans and see if they can’t transfer you back --

Rosie, mortified: Mom, no!

Charlie: Stop…

The room is starting to spin a little bit. Charlie braces himself against the countertop, screwing his eyes shut and trying to block out the yelling. But he can’t run from it. He can’t hide.

Rosie: Charlie got to go to a different school! He got to go somewhere new without you breathing down his neck!

Eleanor: Because Charlie is responsible enough to handle it! You don’t see him posting suggestive content, flirting shamelessly, making questionable decisions. I don’t need to monitor your brother because he doesn’t give me any reason to be concerned!

Oh, Eleanor, if only you knew… it’s being invoked and talked about in such a discordant way that acts as the final straw. Charlie tries to catch his breath, but it’s not coming back, and it’s like the whole world is slipping away from him…

If anything will stop an argument, passing out probably does the trick. Charlie stumbles and then collapses onto the tile floor, shocking both Eleanor and Rosie out of their anger. Rosie shrieks and rushes to his side.

Eleanor: Charlie?! Ambrose! [ rushing to the entryway ] Ambrose, Charlie’s -- come quickly! Hurry!

Charlie’s down, all right. Rosie rolls him onto his back, checking for obvious injury -- lucky he didn’t crack his head open or something -- and trying to rouse him. But he’s out like a light… all of the tension slowly fading away…

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Meanwhile, Brandon is staying late at Haverford once again, only this time he’s not alone. He’s meeting with a mysterious figure, a HIPSTER 20-something man who is probably into photography or a wannabe filmmaker. But he’s clearly there on business, Brandon and the man speaking in hushed tones as they converse even though they’re the only ones around.

Brandon: And you’re sure you’ve got the whole thing? I’m not paying for poor quality or fractions.

Hipster: I’ve been doing this for six years. Think I know what I’m doing at this point. But yes, it’s all there. Professional quality. You’ll be able to see whatever you need to see.

Brandon deems this response satisfactory enough, nodding. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wad of cash, trading it off with whatever object the hipster is offering. When they retract their hands, Brandon comes away with the secret item -- a flash drive.

He scrutinizes it idly while the hipster quickly counts the bills, then they exchange a nod, Brandon thanking him for his service. The hipster makes his exit, Brandon pacing for a bit on the stage and turning over the flash drive in his fingers. Whatever it is, he seems pretty satisfied to have it in his grasp.

He loses some of his easygoing confidence when he hears the auditorium doors open. He slips the flash drive into his blazer pocket and straightens up, narrowing his eyes to assess his new company. When he recognizes who it is, though, an intrigued smirk blooms across his face.

Brandon: Well, well, well. I have to say, this is an unexpected surprise.

Maya Hart. Dressed in one of her sharpest ensembles, Valerie’s fur coat giving her that extra oomph, matching Brandon’s cool sophistication effortlessly. She leisurely saunters her way down the aisle towards the stage, taking her sweet time.

Maya: So this is the fabled Haverford Prep. [ pursing her lips ] I have to say, I was anticipating greater grandeur.

Brandon: It’s hard when the indigent experience excellence for the first time. Never quite meets the expectations of their hapless daydreams… [ off her sneer ] Is there something I can do for you, Hart? Let alone at this late hour?

Maya: Don’t flatter yourself. It’s 8PM.

She’s made her way to the stage now, coming to stand opposite Brandon front and center. There’s a healthy distance between them, keeping them staunchly on opposing sides, but they regard each other with respect. Maya claims she just wanted to come have a little chat, clan leader to clan leader.

Brandon: That so? I thought Friar was your figurehead.

Maya: We both have our respective areas of expertise. I like to think of myself as the Cheney to his Bush. Conservative politics notwithstanding.

Brandon: Was going to say. I don’t see Cheney being much of a swinger for socialist handouts like you all are gunning for. [ sizing her up ] But I’ll admit, I pegged you for a captain rather than a lackey. You sure took front and center at the car wash.

Maya: Ah, yes… the function you so ceremoniously soiled.

Brandon: Hope you’ll forgive the incursion. It’s only business. A little competitive spirit is all.

Maya: Oh, no arguments from me. I’m more incensed I didn’t see it coming. Wish I had thought of it myself.

Brandon chuckles, perhaps a bit won over by her… unique Maya charms. He claims he got the sense they were more alike than different… in fact, if circumstances were different, and they weren’t sworn rivals… Maya catches onto his drift right quick, mirroring his smug charisma as she feigns sympathy.

Maya: So you like what you see. Don’t despair, you’re far from the only one. But I’m afraid that’s a forgone impossibility.

Brandon: [ processing what might be a rejection ] Ah. I see. [ like they’re confidants ] You play for the other team?

Well. That’s a pretty bold assumption to jump to just because she doesn’t want to get with you, Brandon. But Maya maintains her coolness, unperturbed by such arrogant conclusions. She makes a face, as if she’s contemplating.

Maya: … no team. Let’s put it that way.

Brandon: And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?

Maya: The only team I play for is Triple A. And that’s what I’m here for.

Brandon backs off his advances and allows her the floor, back to all business. She tactfully begins to discuss negotiations around senior showdown, dancing around the details of everything going wrong inside the ranks of the A class but letting just enough of her cards show to indicate that she’s only here due to dire circumstances. Then she subtly tries to charm her way to an ideal outcome, brokering a deal where maybe, just perhaps, Haverford might find themselves on the losing side of the showdown confrontation.

You know she’s desperate if Maya is trying to arrange a thrown victory. And Brandon can sense that too, even as aloof as she’s acting, which just makes the whole situation more amusing to him. Though he feigned listening to her pitch, he is all too eager to shoot it down. Why would Haverford want to throw the competition, he muses, when their winning streak is so hot and their competition is apparently so weak?

Brandon: I knew you all were hardly a threat, but this is even more pathetic than I thought. I mean, you and Friar coming to me trying to cut a deal for an easy victory -- what a leadership duo. You all must be in harsher condition than I imagined.

Maya: Wait, what?

Brandon: … you didn’t know? That your president already paid me a little visit earlier in the semester?

Maya doesn’t respond, but the way she’s lost her easy confidence as she stares at him answers for her. Brandon laughs, shaking his head.

Brandon: What presidential teamwork. Clearly, the future of Adams is in outstanding hands. But with such low confidence, and even lower moves you’ll stoop to… no, I believe Haverford is just fine where we are now. We’ll beat you handily, as we have for the last six years, and rest assured Hart, it’ll be with immense pleasure. [ a beat ] You should probably be going, then. The security doesn’t take kindly to riff-raff hanging around our hallowed halls.

He swivels and swaggers offstage, leaving Maya alone and humiliated in enemy territory. She’s fuming, gritting her teeth and fists clenched at her sides.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley is seated at the counter with her laptop, keeping Lucas company while he works the late shift. She’s running through analytics of the RSVPs they’ve already gotten for the dance fundraiser, which she claims is looking pretty good.

Lucas isn’t in a very optimistic mood, commenting that even if they get half of Manhattan to show up, it probably won’t be enough to cover all their expenses including the scholarships. With their chances at showdown dwindling by the minute… who knows. Maybe he’s not doing absolutely everything he can to make it happen…

Riley closes her laptop, giving him her undivided attention.

Riley: Don’t count Triple A out of showdown just yet, please and thank you. But I think I know what this is really about.

Lucas hesitates, freezing up.

Lucas: You do?

Riley: Yeah. You act like you’re so hard to read, like I don’t know you well enough to figure out when you’re not telling me something.

How could she know… did Zay tell her about seeing Missy in the booth? He swallows. She reaches across the counter and takes his hands, giving him a sympathetic look.

Riley: You’re freaking out over the college essays.

Lucas: Oh. [ a beat ] Yeah, well, I guess I am.

Riley reminds him that he doesn’t have to keep that kind of stuff from her and act like he’s unshakeable all the time. And honestly, she gets why he’s nervous about them. It sucks writing about yourself no matter what -- unless you’re Maya -- but it’ll be even harder for him given the things he’s been through. He hasn’t exactly been encouraged to view himself favorably, at least not until recently. Old habits are hard to break.

Riley: But that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for anyway. You don’t need to prove to them that you’re the most perfect shining candidate to ever apply, you just need to give them a really good story. Make them invested, get them to care about you. Show them a bit of your individuality, your personality -- which you are not short of in either department. And I know for a fact you can draw people in…

She is, after all, a prime example. Lucas still seems doubtful, but her perspective does help. And her belief in him continues to astound him, forged in steel even when everything else feels so unpredictable. Riley leans forward to give him a soft kiss, which lingers between them.

It’s impressive, too, how being with her grounds him. How their closeness doesn’t feel like an intrusion… and somehow, feeling cornered by other forces or put on edge just makes him want to be with her more. Lucas initiates another kiss, forgetting everything else for a moment, taking shelter in that inexplicable safety with her. Riley has no complaints, leaning deeper into it and tightening her touch on his hand.

Then the front door bangs open, the bell jangling ominously. Both of them jump and pull apart. Maya marches into the diner, indignant and blue eyes burning.

Maya: What the hell, Friar?

Lucas: What’s the matter with you now?

Riley: Is everything okay?

Maya: When were you going to tell me you shook down Brandon?

Riley: [ whipping to look at him ] What?

Lucas clams up, straightening upright and taking on a defensive stance. But the sheepish expression on his face gives him away. Busted.

Maya: You know, I think that kind of mercenary maneuver is exactly the sort of decision your VP should know about. Were you just never going to let me in on it?

Riley: Why the hell did you do that?

Maya: I don’t care about that. Friar’s a shady bastard, we all knew his methods were going to be far from clean. Who gives a shit. I’m pissed he decided not to keep me in the loop! Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to roll up there only for Brandon Rivas to hand my ass to me on a silver platter? Cocky prick, like he knows absolutely everything --

Riley: Wait, wait. [ eyeing her ] Why were you confronting Brandon?

Oh. Well. Cough. Maya flips her hair off her shoulder, but she can’t give a good excuse that doesn’t make her just as culpable as Lucas. He raises his eyebrows at her, emphasizing that if he’s going down she’s going with him. Riley closes her eyes, trying to catch up to this turn of events.

Riley: Let me get this straight. Both of you went to our competition, at separate times, to try and threaten them into… what? Giving up? Throwing the showdown?

Lucas: I just thought that --

Maya: Our prospects are in shambles even without the money. I was just --

Lucas: And I didn’t want you to be disappointed --

Maya: Everyone is counting on me, we’ve all got a lot riding on --

Riley: Okay, okay, stop. Enough!

Riley holds her hands up, getting them both to shut up. She takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath, then she jumps into fixer mode.

Riley: This must be the week for damage control, because now you’ve really done it. You realize now we’re going to have to bring it even harder, since you’ve made it perfectly clear to Brandon and the Havies that we’re spooked. You wouldn’t go and grovel for mercy if we weren’t.

Lucas: That wasn’t --

Maya, scoffing: I do not grovel --

Riley: I cannot believe you would do something so stupid. [ to Lucas ] And that you would do something like this and not tell me…

Oof… hit him where it hurts, Riles. Lucas lowers his head, avoiding her eyes. Case in point, it doesn’t make anybody look very good. And now, Riley proclaims, she has to fix it once again.

Riley: We’re going to have to brainstorm fast for showdown and make sure everything is in pristine shape, which we already know is a shot in the dark. Call Yindra, tell her to come by our place in twenty. I’ll see if we can get Jeff and Isadora too.

Riley puts her belongings back in her bag and hops off the stool, Maya already heading out. Riley goes to follow her, but she pauses in the doorway and glances back over her shoulder at Lucas. She shakes her head, obviously disappointed.

Riley: I can’t believe you.

She leaves it there, pushing through the doors without another word. Lucas looks after her, ashamed, then curses to himself and lightly hits the counter with his palm.

Break 2.

EXT. DANCE LOT - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT

Charlie is sprawled on the asphalt, just like when he collapsed, the city uncharacteristically quiet around him. When he comes around he jolts upright, spooked at being outside and on his own. He looks around in confusion, no clue where he is or how he got there. He slowly gets to his feet, recognizing the dance lot as a place he’s been before, but unsure where exactly it is or where to go next.

Only one clue exists to help guide him. Music.

It’s quiet, muffled, but he can hear it. A thumping bass, hypnotic beat… he spins until he zeroes in on the source. A heavy metal door installed into the wall opposite him, propped open just slightly, with a neon sign above indicating it’s likely some kind of club. Colorful light leaks out from the crack, mesmerizing and more than intriguing.

But it’s really the music that wins him over. He’s a dancer, and he cannot resist a compelling groove. He cautiously approaches the door, pulling it open and then stepping inside… as the faraway rhythms slowly become a familiar tune...

INT. DANCE CLUB - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Voulez-Vous” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors & Haverford Seniors

The rambunctious ABBA classic kicks off with a bang, music loud and boldly setting the scene. The lighting is mysterious, electric, the fully romanticized version of what a sultry, exciting disco scene might be like. Charlie is no longer dressed in his everyday clothes but is suddenly styled to match the vibes, sporting a sleek disco suit with Riley’s aforementioned blue dress shirt completing the look.

And as he ventures deeper into the club, he discovers he’s not alone. The place is packed with his classmates both current and former, Haverford populating one side and Adams the other, but all dressed in similar, near identical, disco suits. All eyes lock on him the moment he’s within view, judging him, waiting for him to make a move -- or pick a side.

The vocals start, and Charlie does neither, jumping down from the steps and sliding into the center of the glowing dance floor -- right down the middle of party lines. He starts the number dancing alone, challenging the established status quo in the club, tension mounting around his transgression of crossing lines…

Until Zay pushes through the crowd on the A class side. On both feet, looking fly as ever, no injury in sight and nothing holding him back from showing his stuff.

And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end Masters of the scene

Charlie pauses, locking eyes with Zay. For a moment, finishing up the pre-chorus, they just hold eye contact… letting that tension bubble over…

Then Zay jumps into the center of the floor with him, joining in the dance.

Voulez-vous!

For the first chorus it’s just Zay and Charlie, dancing sometimes together and sometimes in contrast, epitomizing the back-and-forth pull between them. But it’s them, so the dancing is remarkably good, and especially satisfying considering how long it’s been since we saw them share a routine. Their timing and chemistry is just as sharp as ever, and it’s also a relief just to see Zay be able to move again.

Throughout the second verse, they weave back into their respective schools, Charlie’s peers still eyeing each other suspiciously and reluctant to break rank. But Zay manages to get Riley out on the dance floor (with Lucas in tow), and then Charlie nudges Evan. Bit by bit the classes mix and mingle, caught somewhere between dancing in tandem and facing off like foes. This becomes especially pronounced during the bridge about 3 and half minutes in, when the chorus becomes stripped and just relies on “ahas,” Charlie leading the Haverford delegation and Zay fronting the A class as they mirror movements and poses.

Then they officially bleed together, classmates crossing into opposite territory for the final chorus. For those who don’t already have a pair in their respective class (unlike say, Dylan and Asher), they pair with someone from the opposite school, like Brandon and Maya.

And, naturally, Zay and Charlie. They’re back together at the center of it all, intensity rising with the music, choreography much more intertwined this time and very close together. If not breaking charged eye contact were an Olympic sport, they would win gold easily.

The flash. The glamor. The drama. ABBA would be proud! When they round out the final seconds and strike their final pose, Zay and Charlie’s faces are so close, all it would take is a centimeter in either direction…

Zay: Charlie...

Charlie’s eyes flit down to his lips, as if he’s contemplating that very thing…

Rosie, faraway: Charlie!

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Alas, not meant to be -- even in dream sequence. Charlie rouses awake when he’s shaken by Rosie, sitting on the bed next to him.

Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the same as doing it for real anyway.

Charlie blinks to adjust back to reality, Rosie releasing a momentous sigh when she sees he’s conscious again. She snaps at him for scaring her, informing him that his fainting spell totally freaked her and Eleanor out. Ambrose is on the phone with their doctor friend right now. He manages to sit up and apologizes for worrying them. It’s probably just… stress.

Rosie: Either way, bad party trick. Mom was so bugged out. You shouldn’t tell her you think it’s stress, or else she’ll probably yank you out of school too and back into Catholic prep.

Charlie: Yeah, speaking of… you really think she’s going to do that to you?

Rosie: … after you passed out, the conversation was basically dropped. If I keep quiet and don’t do anything else to incriminate myself, I think she’ll let it go. [ embittered ] Though sucks that I can’t even text who I want without her knowing every message I send. I doubt she’ll even let me speak to Uri now.

Charlie: Pro-tip? Change his contact name. Mom only goes looking for what she thinks is a problem. If you give him something inconspicuous, she’s never going to know otherwise.

Rosie stares at him, shocked her saltine brother would even think of something like that. I mean, he might be an alcoholic, but still… but it’s good advice all the same. Charlie goes on to explain that he was worried about her, too, and he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s trapped or she has to lash out. You can negotiate with Eleanor, you just have to be clever about it. He doesn’t want her to make the same mistakes that Bridgette did.

Rosie: Yeah, I know… thanks for looking out for me.

Charlie: So… Uri Minkus, huh?

Rosie: Ugh.

Charlie: He’s really that worth sneaking around to text?

Rosie: … I guess you could say… perhaps… maybe… that I have like, the tiniest crush on him. Just a little bit.

Charlie can’t help his smile. He jokes that she should be careful, not because of Eleanor’s concerns, but because if they get married then Farkle is going to become their in-law, and she has no idea what she’s in for if that happens. She groans and nudges Charlie, telling him to shut up, but it’s clear she’s already in better spirits than most of this week. She asks if he’s okay given that all his “stress” is literally making him pass out. Is everything okay with Adams? Charlie admits that he wishes things were easier to navigate than they are.

Charlie: Honestly, I think I’m just naturally gifted at making everything worse. [ with a weak laugh ] Probably should’ve listened to dad when he asked if transferring during senior year was a good idea.

Rosie points out that maybe some of that stress weighing on him is just stuff he creates in his own head. Not to demean it or anything, but like… does everything have to be an anxiety-inducing dilemma? If he wants to go hang out with his friends, from either school, then he should just go do that. He’s allowed to enjoy himself every once and a while and take a break from being the perfect saltine protective older brother. You know, have fun.

Rosie: [ holding up a finger ] Sober fun.

Charlie’s turn to laugh and nudge her. But maybe she has a point. And there might be just the perfect upcoming event where he can relax and have some fun…

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

We join Eric and Isadora in the midst of their conversation. Eric reads Valerie’s letter while Isadora watches with her lips pressed together. Once he finishes the letter, he takes a moment to process it.

Eric: Wow. That’s… a lot.

Isadora: What do you think?

Eric: I think that what I think isn’t important at all right now. What do you think? Do you want to get in contact with him?

Isadora thinks about it as she wrings her hands.

Isadora: I’m not sure. But… you aren’t upset?

Eric: Why would I be upset?

Isadora: If I do want to meet him, I’m worried you’ll think that you’re not enough for me or something. I don’t want to hurt you.

Eric: Isadora, that could never happen. I’m not hurt at all, I just want what’s best for you, and a relationship with your father could be something really good.

Isadora: What if it isn’t, though? I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Again.

Eric: That’s understandable. You don’t have to make a decision now, though. You have all the time you want to think it over. [ a beat ] If you want, you could write a letter to him yourself. You don’t have to send it, but it can be cathartic to write out everything you’re thinking and feeling about the situation.

Unsure, Isadora pulls a face. Eric reminds her again to just think about it -- no major decisions necessary right now.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is meeting with Jack one last time before the dance fundraiser to grab another cash box and go over any last minute details. Jack questions if he’s going to be dressing for the occasion, to which Lucas rolls his eyes but begrudgingly admits that he thinks Riley would be even more upset with him if he didn’t. Though he doesn’t have all the details, Jack assures Lucas that he’s sure Riley isn’t going to be angry for long.

One can only hope. Jack wishes Lucas luck and then he heads out, leaving him to his work. He settles back into it until he lifts his gaze and catches Yancy heading out of the building, checking out for the weekend.

All of Jack’s frustration from his conversation with Evelyn bubbles back up again. He pushes out of his chair, jogging out of his office.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Jack catches Yancy on his way down the steps, telling him that they need to talk. Yancy claims whatever it is can surely wait until Monday, but Jack isn’t having it.

Jack: No, I don’t think your active sabotage of my school can wait another damn second.

Yancy is stunned by his coarse language, effectively halting him long enough to have the confrontation. Well, what then? Jack questions when exactly he planned to let him know about his ongoing anti-campaign against the student government’s scholarship endeavors, or what would drive him and Graham to work to pit the board against them. He knows that they aren’t fond of him, especially after his stunt at the trial, but taking it out on the students? Who does that benefit? What do they gain from that?

Yancy, sharply: Actually, Jackson, you’ve hit the nail on the head. After your little unprofessional display, why wouldn’t we be invested in halting any other schemes you deem a good idea? Particularly when your chosen favorite himself just miraculously managed to become student body president in a school that hates his very existence?

Jack: You have no idea what you’re talking about, and Lucas won that election on his own merit. It had nothing to do with me.

Yancy: It has everything to do with you! Everything does! So long as you are at the helm of this ship, making all the calls, everything ties back to you. And we used to trust you with that power. But all this behavior as of late -- declining lucrative offers, favoring delinquents --

Jack: He is not a delinquent!

Yancy: Or how about cavorting with a fellow employee? [ off his shocked expression ] Oh, come on, Jackson, I’m not naive. Did you and Eric really believe you could flaunt your little flirtation right in front my face and I wouldn’t notice a thing? As if my whole purpose at that school isn’t to keep it from collapsing under your unprofessional whimsy and desires!

This whole time, he’s been observing, watching the operation of AAA from the inside out, trying to determine if Jack remains fit to head the institution. Yancy admits, when Graham first put him up for the job, he was skeptical -- he’d always had great belief in Jack as an educator. He was doubtful that he had really slipped so far… but now he’s seen for himself. There is a certain way things are done, and it seems Jack has forgotten all of his proper perspective in service to that law and order.

Yancy: When I finish my report to the board at the end of the semester, they’ll be the judge of whether or not you deserve to stay where you are. But believe me, if I had it my way, you’d be out of that position and filing for unemployment faster than lightning.

Jack: You can’t do this. You can’t eject me from the role simply because your perspective is too old-fashioned to be flexible. Or empathetic. And unwilling to examine context --

Yancy: Well, we’ll just let the board decide that, won’t we.

Guess we will. Yancy fussily buttons his coat.

Yancy: I would watch yourself if I were you, Jackson. In my opinion, it’s far too late, but we both know how easy it is to tip the scales slightly in your favor. Maybe you’ll salvage this yet. Otherwise, I’d start contemplating alternative paths. Have a good evening.

Yancy stomps down the steps, not waiting for a goodbye. Jack swallows his panic, trying to remain resolute in the face of so much pressure. Scrambling to figure out what to do next...

A groovy disco track bleeds into the soundscape, totally dissonant to Jack’s dread --

INT. DANCE VENUE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Streetdance” as performed by Disco Street Machine || Instrumental

The ‘70s dance fundraiser is in full swing, and it seems to be doing well! The venue is packed not just with Adams students but other community members, promising at least some greater revenue from the whole ordeal. The scene is set with funky lighting and a dance floor, along with some flower-power type decorations and a fun mirrorball hanging above it all.

It’s mainly cool to see everyone leaning into the theme and dressed in their best approximations of ‘70s garb. We’ve got funky vests, blazers for days, chunky platform boots, a few bohemian chic vibes, you name it. A few establishing shots show us all these looks and more while the assembled crowd grooves to the disco track. Yogi is wandering with his camera, capturing footage for posterity and social media.

Lucas is manning the check-in table, this time keeping control over the money in his own hands. He maintains a cordial enough demeanor as he interacts with potential patrons, and he is giving some semblance of ‘70s as promised in his collared-shirt-under-sweater look. He’s serving like… gothic Fred Jones, which is about as much as you’re gonna get from him.

Asher and Dylan, on the other hand, are representing much better. Asher is repping the funky vest and puffy sleeve shirt vibe, matched well with some maroon bell-bottoms and swooped back hair, while Dylan is truly going disco with a silky vibrant shirt tucked into silver pants, a huge, chunky pair of Elton John tinted glasses the cherry on top of the ensemble. They ask how cash flow is going, and Lucas claims fine, but they’re not out of the woods by a long shot.

Lucas: If things don’t pick up, I’m going to start pickpocketing.

Asher: Yes, that’s exactly what we need. A literal crook for president.

Dylan: Isn’t that like every president?

Anyway, Lucas needs to chill. Or as Dylan puts it, surrender to the boogie. Which is what he and Asher are going to go do right now -- the dance floor beckons them. Asher leads the way, Dylan walking backwards so he can maintain eye contact with Lucas and literally disco groove away from him as encouragement to give in to the funk. Lucas just shakes his head, unimpressed.

When Lucas gets back to work, who should be waiting to purchase a ticket in but Charlie Gardner. He’s dressed for the occasion too, dressed in dark pants and a white blazer… with Riley’s chosen blue shirt underneath. It seems he followed her guidance and went for it after all. Lucas greets him and commends him for turning out, considering all the bad blood between Haverford and AAA right now. Brave of him to show up.

Doesn’t he know it… but he wants to be here. Lucas takes his money and nods for him to go on in, sending him into the fray.

Meanwhile, Zay is parked at one of the tables, not in the best mood considering he’s surrounded by the boogie and can’t participate. Nigel is doing his best to cheer him up, but it’s sort of a fruitless effort. When Zay catches him eyeing Jade, who the techies managed to extract from the loft to at least enjoy the dance, he sighs and tells him to go have fun. He doesn’t have to waste away with him. Nigel argues against that take, but Zay nods him onward, insisting.

So Nigel bounces to his feet, thanking Zay before cutting through the crowd in the direction of Jade. Zay watches him go, bittersweet at being left alone again.

Charlie skirts the edges for a bit before finding companionship in Farkle, who greets him plainly. He’s dressed like Eric Forman, wearing a simple button down and bellbottoms combo with a loose brown corduroy jacket. He and Charlie briefly catch up, commenting on how the turn out is and how great the aesthetic is. But Farkle is still a bit lost in his own head, and Charlie notices. He elbows him lightly.

Charlie: You okay?

Farkle: [ with some of his usual humor ] Chuck, that’s like asking the sky if it’s red. I think you already know the answer.

But he’ll live. Once he figures some things out… it’ll be fine. It has to be. Vagueness aside, Charlie can tell there’s more to it, but he opts to focus on distraction rather than problem-solving. He’s had enough problem-solving for a lifetime this week. He invites Farkle to go dance instead, playfully challenging him to show what disco moves he’s got up his sleeve.

Farkle: Oh, you’re going to regret this -- and not because I’m good.

Charlie laughs, gesturing for him to lead the way onto the dance floor.

Maya jumps up onto the small stage set up with the DJ booth, taking the microphone and briefly thanking everyone for coming out. No applause necessary for putting it together, really… and she waits until the audience feels compelled to applaud. Then she waves them off “humbly” before reminding them of all the ways they can support the Adams senior class while at this benefit -- mainly financially! And by getting down and boogie-oogie-oogying. Peace!

Lucas shakes his head at Maya’s speech, lightly amused, but all of his calm is wiped away when Missy walks through the door. She’s dressed in simple ‘70s, a gorgeous and slightly revealing silk disco mini dress and with her hair blown out like Farah Fawcett. She cheekily compliments him on his get up.

Missy, sarcastic: An ensemble that elaborate must’ve taken ages to throw together. I see you really put an effort in.

Lucas: Maybe. And what’s your excuse?

Missy: Not everything needs to be silly and over the top. In fact, I think the richest things in life are those that go understated. Left unsaid… makes everything a bit more exciting, anticipating whatever more there might be to explore. [ a beat ] Same goes for fashion.

Lucas: … so are you paying, or what?

Missy: As I understand it, Adams seniors get in free. But since I can afford it…

She reaches into her small satin purse, pulling out a wad of cash. She siphons off about half of it -- way more than a ticket would cost -- and drops it into the cash box for him. He eyes it suspiciously, then flits his glare towards her.

Missy: I thought about our little chat. And you’re right, maybe there needs to be something in it for me -- which in this case is a victory at showdown. We’re embarrassing enough right now as it is. At least with the funding, we’ll look good when we crash and burn. And as for the rest…

She folds up the remaining bills in her hand and holds them out for him, gesture subtle but unmistakable. Lucas stares at the money, then glances around them nervously to make sure no one else is looking.

Lucas: What the hell are you doing?

Missy: Come on, Lucas. Don’t be noble. We know how things are between us. I’m just trying to help. And it stays discreet. Think of it as… a bonus, for all the hard work you’re doing for the A class. [ quieter ] I heard you in the booth. You don’t ask for help. Well, sometimes, you don’t have to beg. You can just take… whatever you want.

She raises her eyebrows, subtly challenging him to take it. Lucas hesitates, holding his breath… it feels like a test, he knows it is… but he’s already taken plenty from her without asking. What’s a little more…

Missy: Davis isn’t going to pay for itself, is it?

No. No it isn’t. She’s right, and he knows his chances of reeling a scholarship are slim to none. Does he really want all of this stress for applications to be for nothing?

Reluctantly, Lucas takes the money from her and slips it into his back pocket. Missy smiles, genuinely pleased, though why it’s hard to say. But it’s clear, now more than ever, that whatever little arrangement they’ve got going on here is a pattern now. It’s not just going to flutter away on its own, and the consequences that might come of it remain a mystery.

Missy: Groovy. Enjoy the dance, Lucas.

Lucas doesn’t respond, using the cash box as an excuse not to look at her. But based on flipping through the amount of money she handed over for the fundraiser, they’re way closer to their goal than before. And that has to make it all worth it, right?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “September” as performed by Earth, Wind, & Fire || Instrumental

One of the best songs of the decade comes on next, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Riley weaves her way through the throng and rushes up to the entrance to find Lucas, Nate in tow. She’s dressed in a shimmery lavender-mauve jumpsuit, a complimentary hair scarf tying together the groovy look. She pushes Nate in front of her.

Riley: Nate here is taking over table duty.

Nate: You know how I love dem bills, my brother.

Riley: So that you can come dance with me.

Lucas cringes, weakly putting up a fight. Oh, no, no, no… but Riley’s already got her hands on him, and her smile is so damn cute, it would be impossible to refuse her. So he lets her drag him out into the crowd.

Once they’re actually on the dance floor, Riley beams at him and pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Lucas does his best to be a good sport and play along, especially since he’s already in trouble, placing his hands on her hips and casually swaying to the beat.

Lucas: So… does this mean I’m off the hook for the Brandon thing, or…

Riley: Hm… so as long you’re dancing with me and you look so cute in that sweater, I suppose you can be forgiven.

Better than nothing, though Lucas still clearly feels guilty about disappointing her. Just one of many ways he feels like he’s letting her down… but for now she’s happy, so he’ll just focus on touching her waist and how hot she looks in her jumpsuit.

Across the dance floor, Dylan and Asher are in conversation with Jeff and Yindra, Dylan with his arm draped casually around Asher’s shoulders and bouncing to the beat. They’re discussing the everchanging stakes of their showdown routine -- at this point Yindra claims they should just scrap it all and start over, they’ve got equally as bad a shot with the shoddy routine they have now. But Asher claims that would be a disaster, and they should only cross that bridge if they absolutely must.

Dylan spots something that seems to capture his attention, his eyes widening in excitement. He pinches Asher’s ribs and leans closer, Asher tilting his head to listen to his murmur.

Dylan: Shakespeare in Love, straight ahead.

Asher squints through the dancing crowd and finds what he’s talking about -- Nigel and Jade. He’s actually managed to pull her onto the dance floor, engaging in loose and easy grooving together. She’s laughing, waving off how bad a dancer she is, but he holds one of her hands and assures her she’s good.

Totally radical. Asher and Dylan exchange knowing looks, unable to hold back a grin.

Zay is less enthused, mainly because of his current view -- Charlie, dancing with Farkle of all people to one of the greatest songs there is. Not that there’s anything to be concerned about, really, since they’re clearly just goofing around with each other and Farkle is as promised quite an embarrassing disco dancer. But he’s up and moving, free, having fun, making Charlie laugh -- with Charlie looking disgustingly attractive in his expertly chosen shirt -- and it kind of feels like a perfect vignette of what’s locked away from him.

Everything Zay wants, desperately misses, but can’t have.

His brooding is interrupted when Isadora plops down into the chair across from him, giving him a nod in greeting. He asks why she’s not out there grooving on the dance floor, and she sagely says she’s not interested in getting up to boogie so… publicly. She’s amazed Riley got Lucas out there, but that’s only because of her unique Riley charms. It’s torture in her eyes.

Zay: Speak for yourself, but you’re entitled to your whack opinion.

Isadora: I know, I know. This is killing you. And I respect that. Just not for me. [ a beat ] Maybe it’ll give you some peace to know that you being benched is an undeniable tragedy for all of us.

Zay: The considerate part of me says no, but the egotistical side does love it, thank you.

Isadora: You’re welcome. [ with a sigh ] Now there’s talk of changing the routine if we can’t figure out how to fill your vacancy. Not that I don’t think we could pull it off, but it would take all hands on deck and everyone on board, and I don’t see that happening unless there’s no other alternative. Right now, if we could just find someone to fill your spot -- never as strongly, of course --

Zay: Again, my ego thanks you. You’re not going to take the spot?

Isadora: Uh… I mean, I don’t know. A couple of people suggested it, but look, we know I’m no you. I don’t learn as quickly, and I’ve got enough of a track record with performance mishaps on my own. I mean, what if I do it but I completely freeze the moment we have to go out there? My mom’s parting gift to me was giving me the one thing she never had -- stage fright. Doesn’t that seem too risky to throw in there when the stakes are higher than ever?

Zay: Man, I don’t know. I get what you’re saying, but all I know is that I would kill to be able to perform right now. And if you’re debating it at all, then to me, that means you want to -- and if I had the ability to do it, I wouldn’t waste it for a second on what ifs.

Very insightful, Zay. Isadora contemplates this… then she points out to Zay that just because he’s off his feet doesn’t mean he has to fade into oblivion. He’s got to take the time to heal, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be involved in the class or productions. He just has to find new ways to involve himself rather than what he’s used to.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Y.M.C.A.” as performed by Village People || Instrumental

Another classic! In an instant, Riley appears at their table, teeming with enthusiasm and reaching for Zay’s hands. She insists that he get up dance with her -- to which he reminds her that he’s booted -- but she points out that anyone can do the Y.M.C.A. It’s just shouting and arms! So he relents, allowing her to help him to his feet, but his grin betrays his aloof demeanor.

Farkle slides over moments later, telling Isadora that she better get up and join them too. If Zay can do it, she has no excuse. She rolls her eyes, but she really can’t argue with him on that.

So the dance wraps up with a flourish, the full class laughing, sing-shouting and goofing off together to the party favorite that literally anyone can do. Nigel and Riley each support Zay on either side, and he looks about as joyful as he has in weeks. Asher and Dylan prevent Lucas from escaping, keeping him on the dance floor and trapping him in the Y.M.C.A groove too. Charlie dances with Haley and Clarissa, who take turns twirling under his arms.

Yogi and Dave make their way through it all, capturing all the joy of a successful fundraiser on camera so they’ll never forget it.

INT. DANCE VENUE - LATER - NIGHT

The party has wrapped up, only the A class hanging around to clean up. Well, the A class and Charlie, who insisted it was no problem to stay back and assist in tidying. He’s working with Nigel and Yindra at stacking chairs, the latter of which comments playfully that he really is too helpful for his own good.

Yindra: Such a good little Christian, truly. It’s like God injected his compassion mission into your cute white boy veins.

Charlie: Well… not that good, admittedly. [ a beat ] I think if he was going to make his prototype golden child, he would’ve skipped the part where he made me gay.

Oop. Wow, a casual coming out -- and with a little humor, too! Charlie is getting better at this. Yindra raises her eyebrows at him, assessing for a moment whether or not he might be joking… and then she breaks into a wide grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Yindra: Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I always knew I liked you. And I should’ve known, considering that awful Les Mis kiss still haunts my nightmares.

She asks how long he’s been out, or at least telling people, and Nigel slides in to proudly note that he told him before Yindra. She rolls her eyes. Charlie admits it’s slow-going and hasn’t been easy, especially with the community outside of AAA, but it feels good every time he does it. Hopefully the rest of his world will turn out tolerant too.

Yindra invites him to her church that Sunday for a change of pace. She’s performing a solo in the choir, so it’ll be guaranteed entertaining, and it might be good for him to see an actually accepting church environment for a change.

Nigel: She just wants to force you to see her ‘70s performance before she shares it with the class on Monday. The more people she can force to be her audience, the better.

Yindra: Hey, now, I don’t care for your sass, Chey Chey.

Either way, her church runs later than his, so it shouldn’t conflict. And Nigel will be there too -- she’s bribing him with brunch -- so it’ll be like a fun little outing. Charlie just seems happy to be connecting with his peers again, so he happily agrees.

Nate, pre-lap: 70… 80… 90…

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Lucas, Maya, Riley, Dylan, Asher, Isadora, and Farkle are convened in and around the back corner booth, watching nervously as Nate counts the final income from the dance fundraiser. All of them are holding their breath… Maya is pacing like a wildcat, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds if the number is too low.

Isadora: Jesus, Nate, can’t you count any faster?

Nate: No, I don’t cut corners when it comes to money. Now shut up, or I’ll have to start over.

Farkle, exhausted: Hush, Isa. Don’t make him start over.

Silence settles over them again… and Nate finishes counting the bills from the cashbox. He lifts up a finger to halt them from asking, writing the number down and then pulling up the calculator app on his phone. After combining the total from this with the car wash haul…

Nate: We did it. Crazy sons of bitches, we did it!

They officially made the money to pay for the damages and fund their showdown needs. Victory! All of them cheer, hugging each other and clapping enthusiastically. Riley wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses his cheek, while he’s looking pretty relieved.

Nate: I gotta say though, the numbers seem kind of skewed based on the actual attendance we had. Someone must’ve made a huge donation. [ to Lucas ] Did you notice anyone drop some major cash?

Oh, interesting… Lucas pauses, then breezes past the question. He claims it doesn’t matter who donated what -- they’re in the clear, and now they can focus on what matters. It’s time to kick Haverford’s pretentious privileged ass at showdown.

Hear, hear! The group cheers again, exchanging high-fives and reveling in their hard-earned success.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Isadora arrives home, shedding her jacket and shoes at the door. She’s relaxed, and has a relieved smile on her face. From where he sits on the sofa, Eric looks over to her.

Isadora: We did it! We raised all the money we need.

Eric: Oh, amazing! Well done, I’m so proud of you all.

Isadora sits down next to him and exhales. It’s been a long day.

Isadora: I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided to write a letter to Zachary.

Eric: Tha --

Isadora, interrupting: I don’t know whether I’ll send it or not, but I do think it’ll help just to get my thoughts out there.

Eric nods his agreement, and reminds her that he’ll always be there for her. Just as she starts to ask for help on what to include in the correspondence, there’s a knock at the door. Eric goes to answer it, pleasantly surprised to find Jack waiting on the other side. Although he’s happy to see him, Jack seems stressed, so Isadora gets the hint that she should probably give them some space. She wishes Jack a good night and retreats to her room, leaving them alone.

Eric: Did you hear that they made the money to cover the auditorium damages? I’m honestly impressed, but I guess we should never doubt the A class.

Jack: Yeah… yeah, I did. From Lucas. It’s great.

Eric: … okay, what’s going on. You’ve got your thin voice going, how you get when something is wrong.

Jack doesn’t even bother to ask what that means -- Eric knows him well, it’s hardly a surprise at this point. He releases a strained sigh and explains what happened with Yancy, both about him sabotaging the scholarship fund from within the board and then the confrontation they had on the steps. Eric listens raptly, absorbing some of his dread with every word.

Eric: That sick… I always knew there was something off about him. He’s a corporate sellout through and through -- has been since he joined the board. And he has the gall to lecture you… we’ll get him for this, Jack. We just have to strategize --

Jack: No. No, we can’t do anything. Not right now. Not with so many things on the line.

Jack mentions the other piece of Yancy’s threat -- that he might be put on probation for real and potentially let go. Eric scoffs at this, disbelieving. Jack is well-known in the community… no way he’d get ousted. It’s an empty threat.

Eric: What’ll probably happen is that if anything, they put you off contract, and the position would reopen for applicants. So all you’d have to do is apply again, and Evelyn would hand it back to you without question. Yancy is just reaching, he can’t --

Jack: But Evelyn isn’t the only vote that matters, Eric. If they can flip a decision on something like the scholarships… that affects the students… and I don’t think he’s bluffing. I mean, he brought up Lucas, he mentioned… he mentioned you and me…

Eric shrinks a bit at this. It’s uncomfortable that someone is using their relationship as leverage, implying it’s a bad thing, but he’s also nervous about the way Jack is taking it. He knows how much he cares about AAA. He’d do anything to keep it afloat, to do what’s right for the school.

Eric: So… [ with a deep breath ] What do you want to do?

Jack, softly: Right now… I just think we need to… we need to step back. Put things on hold until the dust settles. My examination period should be over soon, and when this is all sorted, then… then maybe we can…

But for now, they can’t. There’s too much at stake… things both of them care about more than themselves. Although Eric is reluctant, he does his best to keep his emotions in check and nods along. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment. Stroking with his thumb, soaking in the touch for all it’s worth. Who knows when he’ll comfortably get to do it again.

Eric: Whatever you need, Jack. I understand. [ with difficulty ] I’m with you.

Jack nods, grateful. More grateful than he’ll ever know. He holds his gaze for a long moment, then leans forward and presses his lips softly to the corner of his mouth. So close, yet so far… Eric closes his eyes, trying his best not to crack.

Jack pulls back, swallowing hard. He clears his throat and nods, back to a fragile shell of professionalism.

Jack: I’ll see you at school.

Eric returns the nod, but he can’t meet his eyes. Jack hesitates for a moment longer, wishing it wasn’t this way, wishing he could stay… then steps back into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Like he was never there.

INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - DAY

Charlie and Nigel are in one of the pews amidst the usual congregation of Yindra’s church, waiting for the choir following the service to begin. Charlie seems excited but nervous, liking the high spirits and jovial energy but worried he’s an imposter just like he is everywhere else. He leans over to Nigel.

Charlie: I stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I?

Nigel: Mm, yeah. But it’s okay, [ patting his arm ] you can’t help that you’re skim milk.

Thank you for that, Nigel. Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so it’s a relief when Yindra steps down front and center in her church choir robes to address the congregation. She cheerfully greets them and explains that she got to choose the song for this week, which she used to also fulfill the requirement for her art school lesson. Two birds, one stone, am I right?

Either way, she wants to dedicate the heart of this performance to her peers at school and in attendance this afternoon. She knows they’re all going through stuff, and even though it feels like the end of the world right now, it’ll all be water under the bridge one day. All they can do is take it day by day, and by the grace of God, everything will end up the way it’s meant to be.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino

If anyone could deliver soulful, impressive vocals to rival and honor Mercedes Jones (for those of us who did watch Glee, unlike the Havies), it would be Yindra Amino. And deliver she does, both in the church and on the atrium steps at AAA where she splits this performance. The rest of her choir backing her up gospel style really does add a certain something something, but the true emphasis of the number is the meaning.

Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine, oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind

When she makes it to the latter half and the gospel kicks off clapping to the beat, the entire congregation leaps to their feet and eagerly joins in. Charlie and Nigel are right there with them -- as is the A class in the atrium intercut of the performance.

Yindra brings it home with a spectacular vocal run, and you have to wonder if she really could make it out there in L.A. on her vocal chops alone. The church erupts into gleeful applause as she wraps up and takes a bow with the choir, beaming bright.

Charlie mirrors her smile, enthusiastically clapping along. Experiencing for an instant what it’s like to feel comfortable in church -- allowed to just be himself.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is anxiously sitting opposite Riley in the usual booth, watching as she carefully reads over his personal essays. She’s doing her best to maintain a professional and neutral expression while she goes, but it’s impossible to hold back the slightest smile on her lips as she reaches the conclusion. When she lifts her gaze to meet his, but purposefully builds suspense by not saying anything, he cracks.

Lucas: Well? They’re terrible, aren’t they? You can just say it if they are.

Riley: … [ breaking into a grin ] They’re great, Lucas. Brilliant, honestly. Not that I ever had any doubt you could pull it off.

What a relief. Lucas exhales a sigh, thanking her for taking the time to read them. Then he continues, softly apologizing for not telling her about what happened with Brandon. Even though he had good intentions, he knows it doesn’t matter. And if he wanted so much not for her to know, then obviously it was never a good idea to begin with.

Riley: You know it’s fine for you to mess up. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me.

Lucas: [ after a beat ] I guess I didn’t… it’s like the stupid personal essays. I know that… I’m not a shining example of a good person. I don’t think that’s exactly a secret.

Riley: I don’t think that.

Lucas: I know. I know you don’t, and I think that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Because it’s like every thing I do that shows you that, the more you realize that I’m… less than ideal, then…

Riley tilts her head, giving him a sympathetic look. Then she gets up and comes to join him on his side of the booth, sliding in next to him and leaning forward a bit so he’ll meet her gaze.

Riley: I told you that I wanted a relationship with you, and I meant it. And that’s all of you -- everything, the good and the bad. Even if you make a mistake, or I get disappointed, it doesn’t change that. We’ll find a way to work it out. I want you.

Her way with words makes everything sound so easy, so simple… and maybe it is. Maybe it can be just as simple as wanting each other, loving each other, and making it work. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, smiling shyly and thanking her again.

Hard part out of the way, Riley asks him how he managed to break his writer’s block and write those killer essays. What was his secret? Lucas hums, thinking about it.

Lucas: It was kind of what you said. You know, changing my perspective. When I was trying to write it from my lens, it was… well, you know. But then I just tried to think… what would Riley say? If someone asked you about me. And when I thought about it like that, I don’t know… suddenly, it was easy.

Riley chews her lip, smile blossoming on her face. She pulls him into a gentle kiss, one that he returns before swiftly stealing another one. She nudges her forehead against his, fondness shining in her eyes as she looks at him.

It’s no mystery how thinking like her made for some unbeatable work.

Billy, pre-lap: I knew it. I knew he wasn’t loyal.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY

Dweezil’s phone is sitting on the tabletop, open to the Adams social media page. Displayed are a handful of photos Yogi took during the ‘70s dance… including one clearly featuring Charlie, dancing with Haley and Clarissa. Although it looks like he’s having a swell time, Billy and Dweezil don’t seem happy for their classmate at all.

Dweezil: He’s never really jumped ship. We know he’s always hanging out with Riley anyway. This is just definitive proof.

Billy: Showdown is in a week. If he’s still this comfortable with his old chums, who knows how much shit he’s telling them.

Dweezil: And what if he finds out about the plan? No way he’s going to let us do it.

Billy: I say we take care of this now. Before it interferes with our performance.

Dweezil: He might blow everything.

Billy: Brandon. You have to have an opinion on this shit.

Opposite them and seated at the table, Brandon is examining the photograph for himself. He’s unperturbed as usual, thoughtful and contemplative. He doesn’t comment until Billy and Dweezil basically demand input from him, at which point he offers a calm smile.

Brandon: It’s nice to see him enjoying himself, isn’t it? I like Charles. He’s a nice kid. [ a beat, then suavely ] And a coward.

Brandon gingerly places Dweezil’s phone back on the desk, reclining back in his chair.

Brandon: I’m not worried about him.

Billy: Man, you’re kidding --

Dweezil: And what if he decides to --

Brandon: Don’t you get it? He’s not going to do anything. If there’s one thing you can count on with Charles, it’s that he’s spineless. He’s not feeding them information, and even if he does take offense to something we do, he isn’t going to do shit. Gardner is soft, and he’s the least of our worries. But in a week it’s not even going to matter. Especially not when we’ve got this.

Brandon retrieves the flash drive from his blazer pocket, placing it on the table between them. Billy and Dweezil eye it with interest -- they all clearly know what it contains.

Brandon: Once we crack into this, it’s over. We’re going to crush Adams like we do every year -- whether Charles helps or not.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Ah, to be back in the warm embrace of the auditorium -- even if it’s still a bit banged up. It’ll take a little while longer to get the auditorium back in tip-top shape, but the A class can at least come home to roost in it again, which is where they gather for the kick off the next week.

All of them give a round of applause to Harley for his assistance in repairing their mistakes, and hope that he enjoyed the performances of the last few days. He assures them he did, though as he understands it, the week isn’t quite over yet. He steps back and allows Jade to take front and center.

She thanks all of them for being patient with her while she finished up her portfolio materials, and at this point she only has one more request. Behind her, Dave and Dylan roll out the racks with her ‘70s portfolio costumes, and she explains that she needs models to pose for the photographs she’s going to include in her application of all her hard work. Now hm… where on Earth is she going to find suitable, available models for free who she just happened to know all the measurements of and would fit perfectly into these custom costumes…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shake Your Booty” as performed by Forever In Your Mind || Performed by AAA Seniors

Riley beams, claiming she thinks she knows where they could find a few volunteers. The A class launches to their feet, rushing the stage to see what Jade has in store.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The boys kick off this energetic, bopping closing number, changing into their Jade ‘70s ensembles and grooving in the dressing room. Sliding through the wall --

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The girls are doing the same, fluffing their hair and doing each other’s make up as they sing into the mirrors. Once they’re all set, Yindra leads the way out into the dressing room hall…

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Where they meet up with the boys, strutting in their fierce, authentically ‘70s looks. They make a mad dash for the auditorium --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And reclaim their stage, breaking into disco grooves as they toss around solo lines and show off their outfits. Jade stands with Yogi and helps him direct the costume shoot, both of them dressed up as well with Jade sporting the stereotypical but Jade-infused bohemian flower power girl look with a flowy white dress with puffy sleeves and a leather headband laced with wildflowers.

On the bridge, we get a montage of all of the A class posing in their outfits as they dance to get their pictures taken. This highlights not only how much we love this silly crop of seniors, but also how fantastic and individualized Jade’s costumes truly are. Paired with the earnest and jubilant performance, it’s a truly lovable showing.

Then they bring it on home with a disco line dance, all breaking into the same groovy choreography and all in their ‘70s garb. Zay watches from the audience with Lucas and the faculty, for once seemingly not in despair over being benched and still getting a custom outfit of his own. Dylan and Asher are front and center, and they pull Jade into it on the last few lines, so she also gets her boogie in before the day is done.

If one thing is clear, it’s that disco is far from dead, thank you very much! And while the A class has a lot on their plates -- and insurmountable stakes ahead -- it’s hard not to feel hopeful when they’ve got each other.

Whether that’s enough, well, soon we’ll find out.

END OF EPISODE.

#episodes #307 #S3 #WEEEEEEEEEEEE #s3 round 2 lets go girls!

15 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 4 years ago

Note

Which factions from Divergent would everyone be in?

Why can questions be colour now!

oh so pretty, a little purple spice in the inbox. i waited to answer this because i knew nothing about divergent and now that i’m reading the first book, i figure i can take a crack at this. still gonna reference the wiki though since im only like a fifth into the novel lol. this kind of goes against like everything i believe in about character since it reduces them to one personality trait but i’ll refrain from calling everyone divergent and just. go with it for the sake of the challenge

i will try to do it like... which faction i think they’d choose on the actual ceremony day (like who they are in their heart or whatever) and i’ll note if they were raised in a different faction and thus are a transfer. fun fact i cant even spell like half these words

Abnegation (The Selfless)

“Abnegation is the faction that values the needs of others above the needs of oneself. Their core belief is 'Them before I.'”

Charlie Gardner

Asher Garcia (though I think he resists a strong instinct towards Dauntless because he doesn’t believe he could possibly fit there since he has such bad anxiety... and yet...)

Jade Beamon

Clarissa Cruz

Erudite (The Intelligent)

It is noted that Erudites care for eloquent speeches, as well as their search for knowledge. The Erudite, though extremely intelligent, have been known to be vain. Their (long) manifesto is “Ignorance is defined not as stupidity but as lack of knowledge. Lack of knowledge inevitably leads to a lack of understanding. Lack of understanding leads to a disconnect among people with differences. Disconnection among people with differences leads to conflict. Knowledge is the only logical solution to the problem of conflict. Therefore, we propose that to eliminate conflict, we must eliminate the disconnect among those with differences by correcting the lack of understanding that arises from ignorance with knowledge.”

Jack Hunter (though he’d resist a pull towards Abnegation)

Nigel Chey

Jeff Monroe

Brandon Rivas (transfer from Dauntless)

Dauntless (The Brave)

Dauntless is considered the stalwart soldiers of the factions. Dauntless are those who are brave, seeming almost fearless. They strive to become courageous and durable. “We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another... we believe in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot protect themselves.”

Lucas James Friar (transfer from Abnegation, where Grace is stuck)

Riley Matthews (transfer from Candor, i.e. Topanga and Cory, though Cory should’ve been something like Amity but stuck to the family lineage unlike Eric)

Zay Babineaux

Yindra Amino

Angela Moore

Harper Burgess

I should clarify here though that I know it’s like they’re supposed to be all badass stereotypical Goth YA hotties and wear all black and stuff but I feel like this crew (sans Lucas) would be like fuck that. They’d all be wearing their iconic funky fashion and LJF would be like WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE BORING!!! AND WEAR BLACK!!! and Zay, Riley, and Yindra would be like blah blah blahhhhhh get a pop of color for once loser. Just felt that needed to be clarified

Amity (The Peaceful)

Members of Amity value peace and harmony above all else. Amity members are happy people, willing to serve, but, unlike Abnegation, do not come face-to-face with those they serve (usually). “Give freely, trusting that you will be given what you need... Do not be angry. The opinions of others cannot damage you... The wrong is past. You must let it rest where it lies... You must no longer think cruel thoughts. Cruel thoughts lead to cruel words and hurt you as much as they wound their target.”

Dylan Orlando

Eric Matthews (transfer from Candor)

Dave Williams

Darby Winters

Haley Fisher

Nick Yogi

Candor (The Honest)

Candor members value honesty, above all else. They are very truthful, sometimes to the point of being tactless. They believe that charm is unnecessary, and politeness is deception in pretty packaging. Although Candor values honesty the most, they also seek to develop impartiality. “Dishonesty is rampant. Dishonesty is temporary. Dishonesty makes evil possible.”

Maya Hart (transfer from Abnegation, where Katy is)

Farkle Minkus (transfer from Erudite)

Isadora De La Cruz (transfer from Dauntless -- which Val would be I think)

Nate Martinez

Chai Fresco

Sarah Carlson

Interesting that the real diva trio are all transfers... much to think about. Anyway!

-- Maggie

#i just think the visual of ljf grumping bc no one will wear black theyre MEANT to is so funny #a class #answered #im only a fourth into the book no one spoil anything!!!!!#charliezay #ask and you shall receive

5 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 5 years ago

Text

S2 Rewatch - Maggie’s Take [ 201 ]

guess who’s back! back again! it’s that time of year fellas!

Favorite scene

There are two that jump out at me, one comedic and one dramatic. The comedic one is without a doubt Lucas’s return to AAA with his voodoo diorama of the A class -- it’s just something I can visualize so well, and has so many tiny details in the dialogue and such that I love. I would kill to see what that prop looks like in action... the Maggie who lives in AAA verse is so lucky... then the other scene is the one in the prop loft between Zay and Riley. I think it’s a very much needed soft beat in the episode, and highlights a friendship that I’m super fond of and how good they are to each other. It’ll be fun to see how they shift and support one another in the coming season!!

Favorite performance

A lot of fun options here... the raw power of Riley’s “Reason Why” is a strong contender, but so is the bop cred of “Sue Me.” I’m super partial to the concept of Farkle’s “Dancing With Myself,” where he’s dancing around his frozen classmates and then the lights go out one by one... but I think I have to go with “Opening: I Hope I Get It.” Sometimes a musical number is exactly what you need, and this one fit so perfectly in the context of the episode. It’s fun to imagine all the montages and intense dancing that play throughout it, and genuinely it’s true when it says that the dancing and performing etc. seems to have kicked up a notch this season. I still feel that! Mainly, though, it wins because of the Charlie of it all. I’m feeling very soft towards him working on S3 + having written Cruel Summer, and his solo at the end there is just... whew. It sets him up for the season in a way I don’t think many people expected, like just how much his character would become, so I just... be loving him.

Favorite character (within context of the episode)

This one is difficult, because there’s no obvious stand out to me. Like, everyone is pretty evenly spread, and premieres are tough to write (believe me... God not excited to do that again) because you just have to get back in that... vibe again. But I think I will gift this one to Zay, because the moment we open with him and “New Shoes” I just get that warm and fuzzy feeling, the way you feel when your favorite show comes back from hiatus. Honorable mention to Farkle in his depression sweats, and Dogi with their exclusives.

Favorite line(s)

“It’s David and Goliath! Welcome back, AAA thotties, to the thunderdome.” –Dave Williams

“Anne Marie. Oh. Two names for the price of one, huh? Good deal!” –Eric Matthews

“Oh my God, you made little voodoo dolls.” –Nigel Chey

An underrated moment

The episodes are so long now that anything could be underrated LMAO but I’m going to go with Zay and Charlie’s “reveal” (which is no longer a reveal to us rewatchers, but sure was back at the time), and their exchange of “Are you shading my romantic prowess? Or do you just really love dance.” “I think I just really love dance...”

First impression vs your reread impression

It’s genuinely surreal to be rereading this season with y’all. Like when we started S1, this felt like a fever dream, so being on S3 is something else. But like S2 had so many iconic moments, so clear and vivid in my head, that I remember how exciting and cathartic writing these episodes felt. To get them out to y’all, so you could experience them too, was so crazy and fun and I can’t wait for the same to be true for S3. That feels true rereading the premiere, because, like I said, premieres... hard. Very hard. But this reads better than I remember after writing it, and I’m still really fond of some of the performances and concepts we played with. It’s also really fun to see all the plants from CS (Lucas’s wrist brace, the Charlie and Zay of it all, Riley and Dasher’s tempered friendship along with Maya and Isa’s loud new camaraderie). It’s also quite cool to see how much Es and I have grown from outlining this season versus working on S3, like how S3 just feels... bigger and bolder in so many ways. Which is crazy, because I remember when we got to this episode, THIS felt like so much bigger than S1. I guess, though, that’s just part of creating a show that lives and breathes and grows with us... it’s so special. I said to my friends as I settled in to reread that AAA just brings me such a sense of joy and peace, and I hope that’s true for y’all too. Looking forward to this reread and getting closer and closer to S3. <3

#s2 reread #S3 countdown #rr: 201 #rr: by maggie

2 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 5 years ago

Photo

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “The Sun Will Rise” [ 2.13 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT – News of Valerie brings Isadora and the group across the continent to Los Angeles. Wounds begin to heal, and lucky happenstance presents compelling new opportunities. Reflecting on all they’ve endured, the junior class looks towards senior year and begins to ponder what happens next.

68 Minutes (19K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Final Run ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Season Three → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Go Ye Now In Peace” as performed by Rochester College A Cappella Chorus || Performed by AAA Juniors (feat. AAA Students)

A crowd has formed on the steps of Adams, but the mood is far different than it was only hours ago. Whereas that crowd was there to protest, this one is here to mourn. To honor. To stand together. A candlelight vigil, dozens of little flames dotting the exterior of the school in a constellation of flame.

The choral piece is not typical fare for a student body that tends to lean towards glitz and glamor, but in this moment it’s exactly what’s needed. The beautiful harmony of the AAA students is clearer than ever before, a comforting embrace of sound amidst the tears.

And comfort is the most prominent force. It’s the last time we’ll see the A class as juniors, and while the reason for the gathering is somber, it’s nice to see them all so unequivocally together. HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ stand on either side of CHARLIE GARDNER, arms linked. YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY share a candle, DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON hugging behind them as they sing.

The techies are closely gathered, NATE MARTINEZ standing solemnly between JEFF MONROE and DAVE WILLIAMS. Dave has his arms around JADE BEAMON, propping his chin on her head while she cries silently. NICK YOGI is leaned against Dave, hugging his side. DYLAN ORLANDO hugs ASHER GARCIA from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder and tilting their heads together.

On the steps, JACK HUNTER and ERIC MATTHEWS are stalwart and put together, hands clasped in front of them respectfully as they sing along. Admittedly, Eric is having a harder time holding back his emotion. HARPER BURGESS flicks tears from her cheeks. SHAWN HUNTER reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder, ANGELA MOORE at his side.

MAYA HART is singing through thick tears, holding tight to FARKLE MINKUS’s arm. She keeps him close as he watches fellow students contribute to the center of the vigil. It seems to be hitting him differently.

ZAY BABINEAUX allows RILEY MATTHEWS to rest her head against his shoulder until she steps forward, a flower in her hands. She steps forward to the central display and lays the blossom amidst the others, stepping out of frame to allow focus to rest on the memorial.

Flowers, cards, posters and old CDs. Photographs and memorabilia, all surrounding the framed portrait of VALERIE DE LA CRUZ at the core of it all. A global icon. A role model, inspiration, and mentor to so many of the students at Adams. A mother to one of their own.

The voices of the Adams student body float into the night, a touching send off for a woman truly unlike any other. Now, nothing but a memory and the things she left behind. All that’s left to do, once the mourning is done, is figure out how to move forward. What happens next…

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie is in the auditorium alone, paying one more visit before he says goodbye. Unlike the rest of his classmates, he won’t be coming back after the summer.

He’s all the way in the rear behind the last curtain, looking up at the back wall. All along it, planks of 2 x 4 wood have been hung up. At the center of each one is a year, surrounded by scribbled initials.

Charlie is eye level with the one marked “2021,” certain handwriting quite familiar. Riley quietly enters and comes to join him, not interrupting his thoughtful silence as she looks at it with him.

Charlie: It’s a coveted tradition. [ off her intrigued look ] At the end of freshman year, every class gets their own plank. They emboss it with the graduating year -- for us, 2021 -- and then everyone in the class gets to initial it. Leave their mark, you know? Commemorate that we made it. That we were here.

Riley examines the Class of 2021 plank. Familiar initials jump out -- ZB. MH. FM. Even LF, clustered beside AG and DO. The initials WL can barely be made out after someone -- or perhaps multiple someones -- aggressively scratched it out.

Charlie: [ re: Wyatt’s ] Obviously, it doesn’t account much for change. [ a beat ] Any kind of change.

Charlie is looking at a different pair of initials now. CG.

Riley looks at him sympathetically. She knows how it feels to jump schools, but it’s hard to imagine how it would feel when you really don’t want to. When the one you’re leaving is the one you don’t want to let go.

Then an idea strikes her.

Riley: You got a Sharpie?

Charlie thinks, grabbing his backpack at his feet to dig through the pockets. He retrieves one, handing it to her.

Riley pulls off the cap with a flourish, stepping forward. She scans the 2021 plank, finding a spot and using the Sharpie to create a new set of initials. RM -- right in the middle between CG and the cluster of techie initials. A space left empty, as if it was just waiting for something new to come along and complete it.

Riley eyes the addition proudly, capping the Sharpie and passing it back to Charlie. Not a solution, but a symbolic gesture -- just as things can be so easily removed, they can be easily added, too. It doesn’t change that they’re both there. That they always will be.

She gives him a smile, which he half-heartedly returns. Charlie scoops up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Riley throws an arm around his back and he drapes one over her shoulder, the two of them exiting the auditorium together.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Zay swings by the black box as Harper is finishing cleaning up from their final class. He asks if she needs any help, but she waves him off. She’ll be here many more hours packing up the classroom -- he shouldn’t waste any of his final high school summer on her.

Zay explains why he wanted to stop by, letting her know that he got offered a role in the off-Broadway production. He’s officially portraying Riff for the next few months, and he wanted to thank her for all her support. Harper is ecstatic, exchanging a hug with him.

Zay: I wouldn’t have gotten it if it weren’t for you. So thank you.

Harper, touched: … well, thank you. That’s very sweet. But I don’t know if that’s true.

Zay: You were the one who showed me the audition. I think that proves my point.

Harper thinks on it, thoughtful.

Harper: If I’ve learned anything about this industry in the last decade or so, it’s that you can tell who the real stars are. Talent matters, undoubtedly, but it’s really in the way they shine day-to-day. Who goes the extra mile, who puts themselves out there, who goes searching for opportunity rather than waiting for it to fall into their lap.

Zay listens attentively. It’s evident how much respect he holds for Harper, despite the uneven start she had coming into this year.

Harper: Now I’m just a teacher, so my salary isn’t much to bet on, but I would put all of it on the line when I say you, Zay Babineaux, are one of those stars. [ proudly ] And I can’t wait to see everything that you accomplish.

Zay smiles, bashful in a way he rarely is. How strange and humbling and wonderful it is, to be seen. To be the favorite. To be appreciated for everything you have to offer.

He steps forward for another hug, Harper surprised at first but laughing as she returns it. When they pull apart, Zay wishes her a good summer and promises her a complimentary ticket to West Side Story as soon as its up and running.

Harper: Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Zay grins, giving her one more nod as he heads out for the year. Harper watches him go with a smile, exhaling and sauntering to the front and center of the classroom. Her classroom, hard fought and won. She’s truly the Adams performance coach now, finally feeling confident and excited for what the next year holds.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

It seems the next year might hold many new opportunities. A job application slides across the counter at Chubbie’s, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR giving the waitress working a thanks as she promises she’ll pass it on to the manager.

When he spins back around Dylan and Asher are there with him, congratulating him on taking the leap to apply. Still, Asher has his hesitations.

Asher: Seriously, you don’t have to do this just because of me. I said you don’t have to pay me back.

Lucas: And I said I would, so I am. Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to be out of the house. I’m going to need the money anyway if I want to do anything this summer.

Dylan: That’s right. You’ve got a steady to treat now.

Asher: I doubt Riley is expecting much.

Dylan: We don’t know that. She could be a gold digger.

Asher: If she is, she’s been digging in the wrong place for about two years.

Dylan: That’s true. If she were a good gold digger, Farkle is right there.

Lucas: Please stop.

Dylan: Whatever. I’m just excited for you to work here so we can get some sick free grilled cheese!

Lucas: Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.

Dylan: I think it might happen.

Lucas: It’s not.

Dylan doesn’t argue further, but the way he smirks and narrows his eyes speaks for him. I really think it might. Lucas rolls his eyes, Asher changing the subject and asking about Isadora. Everything with Valerie has happened so fast, and all the sudden she has to head all the way across the country to deal with it.

Asher: It’s a good thing you guys are going with her. I can’t imagine having to do something like that alone.

Lucas: She said you guys could come too, you know.

Dylan and Asher exchange a look.

Asher: We know. But we also know it’s going to be overwhelming enough already. I don’t think adding more people is going to help.

Dylan: But we’ll be here when she comes back. She knows we’ve got her back -- that won’t change after she jumps coasts.

Lucas can acknowledge that truth. Asher and Dylan point out they’re glad he’s going though, considering his own mixed feelings about Valerie. He admits he still doesn’t know exactly how to feel about it, but it doesn’t really matter much anymore, does it? Either way, he would want to be there for Isadora.

Lucas: After the shit friend I’ve been this year, I think it’s the least I could do. And I know she would do the same for me. Besides… [ looking at them ] I know how important it is to have good friends looking out for you.

The weight of the statement goes without saying after everything they’ve been through this year. Asher glances to Dylan, then quickly moves to wrap Lucas in a tight hug. Finally breaking down the last remnants of tension between them and letting it dissolve away.

Lucas is surprised at first, but then he returns the embrace. Dylan watches, beaming.

Lucas, quietly: Thanks, spaghetti.

Asher: [ into his shoulder ] Any time.

They pull apart, awkwardly smiling and patting one another’s shoulders. Once Asher steps back, Lucas looks to Dylan, rolling his eyes before opening his arms slightly and inviting another embrace. Dylan happily accepts it, giving him a bracing hug and patting him on the back.

Now that all that emotional baggage has been squared away, Lucas claims he better get going. They’ve got a lunch date he doesn’t want to interrupt, and he’s got to start packing. Asher tells him to have fun in LA, in spite of the dreary circumstances.

Dylan: Take lots of pictures for us!

Lucas, flatly: Yeah, you know I’m not gonna do that.

Lucas nods them a goodbye and turns to go, only stopping when he actually gets to the door. He hesitates, glancing back over his shoulder towards them.

Asher and Dylan are still there behind him -- still having his back. Loyal lieutenants, despite everything else. Dylan raises a hand in casual salute.

Lucas smiles lightly. Then he pushes through the doors, heading back out into the city. Asher and Dylan watch him go, exchanging a look once he’s gone. Dylan grins and pats Asher’s shoulders, gently leading him further into the diner.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is also packing, sorting through his clothes and deciding what to bring to Los Angeles. There’s another pile going at his feet as he digs through his closet -- a box labeled “DONATE.” Filled with items that no longer fit and have been accumulating in his spacious closet, but also things that don’t feel much like him anymore. No longer matched to the person he’s become.

He pulls a blazer off the rack, pausing as he looks it over. It’s one of his notorious favorites -- from the pilot to his 207 pre-suicide resurgence. Definitely one of his statement pieces.

Farkle stares at it for a long moment, contemplating. There’s a moment where it seems as though he may drop it in the donation box… but he merely dusts it off and places it back on the rack. It no longer defines him, but that doesn’t mean he has to be rid of it completely.

He knows that part of him is still embedded within him, keeping him scrappy and ambitious. It’s simply better balanced now -- a part of him, rather than his entire mask.

STUART MINKUS knocks lightly, stepping into the room and taking a look at his operation. He whistles, remarking he thought they had another year before this sort of change invaded their home. From the way he says it, although jokingly, it’s clear Stuart is not ready to think about the notion of Farkle leaving for longer than just a vacation.

Farkle assures him it’s only that, but he figured there was plenty of stuff he could afford to go through while he’s in the right headspace. He actually thinks they all might -- this summer they should make a family effort to go through the house and donate things they don’t need. Stuart states that’s an excellent idea.

Farkle also thanks him for helping convince Jennifer to let him go on the trip to Los Angeles at all. Stuart shrugs, claiming the only reason they managed to make it work is because Eric will be along to chaperone.

Farkle: Not that that’s a guarantee of effective management -- don’t tell mom I said that.

[ Stuart mimes zipping his mouth and locking it. Then he smiles. ]

Stuart: You know she’s just worried about you. Everything that happened this year --

Farkle: I know, I know. [ tossing a shirt into his suitcase ] I earned my extensive surveillance. I’m well aware.

Stuart takes the moment of heaviness to speak. He explains that he knows he hasn’t always been vocal about… their family has never been great at expressing themselves. In a board meeting, sure, but when it comes to the homefront… even so, Stuart wants Farkle to know how proud of him he is. He hasn’t been clear enough about it in the past, but he’s going to try now. He doesn’t ever want Farkle to think he doesn’t care.

Farkle: I know. [ a beat ] But thanks for saying it.

Farkle accepts the hug Stuart gives him, the two of them absorbing the moment. Then Stuart steps back, allowing him to get back to his packing. He tells Farkle to keep an ear out while in Los Angeles -- the best businessmen are those who seek opportunity at every moment. Farkle rolls his eyes, but he knows his father means well with his entrepreneurial guidance.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - DAY

Jack opens the door to his apartment, dressed more casually than we’ve ever seen him. Plain tee shirt, comfortable pair of jeans -- school’s out for the summer, and Jackson Hunter owes nothing to nobody.

Except, perhaps, Eric Matthews. That’s who he finds standing outside, holding a carton of cupcakes from a bakery that he claims is Jack’s favorite. Jack accepts the gift and gestures him inside, but he asks what the catch is as he takes the baked goods to the kitchen.

Eric: Well, I know it’s been a tough year. Consider them… congratulatory cupcakes. For making it through a killer semester.

Jack, skeptical: Every semester is a killer semester at Adams.

Touché. Jack asks what’s really going on, why Eric is trying to bribe him. After beating around the bush for a minute longer, Eric relents and admits that he wants Jack to consider coming to Los Angeles with him and the kids. He wouldn’t have to worry about the expenses, as Valerie’s estate is putting them up to get Isadora out there.

Jack: I don’t know. I hardly think Isadora needs more people jumping in on this experience. Especially one she didn’t think to invite.

Eric: Believe me, Isa is not thinking about that. And actually, it might ease her mind knowing there’s another responsible adult present. An authority figure to help keep things in line. Who better than the administrator of authority himself?

Jack: Not sure I deserve that title anymore. School board sure doesn’t think so.

Eric brushes the comment aside -- that’s drama for them to grapple with later. Right now, the focus is Valerie and Los Angeles, and right now, Eric really wants him to be there.

Eric: It would help me. [ sincere ] Please, Jack.

Jack sighs, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. He eyes Eric for a long moment, contemplating.

Jack: Fine. But only to help you.

Eric grins, thanking him profusely. Jack tries to appear put out, but he can’t hold back the hint of a smile as he shakes his head.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie, on the other hand, is not packing the night before departure to LA. He’s sitting at his desk, focused on typing something on his laptop.

When he hears someone approaching his room he frantically switches tabs, pulling up the website for Haverford. He acts as though he’s been reading that when ELEANOR GARDNER pokes her head in the room, asking how he’s feeling now that school is out for the summer.

Eleanor: You haven’t started packing? [ a beat ] We leave for Aggie’s day after tomorrow. Will you have enough time to get everything together?

Charlie assures her he’s got it under control. She smiles, glancing at his screen and seeing the Haverford website. She states she’s proud of him for taking the initiative to try something new, especially when it’s so daunting. Senior year, and everything… but she thinks this will be good for him. Adams wasn’t ever exactly his speed anyway, was it?

Eleanor: I know it’s hard to leave what you know. But I think it’ll be great. Get you back on track a bit, you know? Reorient yourself.

Charlie: Totally.

Eleanor steps further inside, giving him a kiss on the top of the head. As she’s stepping back into the hall, she tosses another comment over her shoulder.

Eleanor: Oh, I made an appointment with the hair cuttery. We’ll all go and get our summer cuts tomorrow before we head upstate.

Charlie: Sounds good. Get the door please?

Eleanor obliges, gently shutting his door behind her. Charlie waits a moment to make sure she’s gone, then he swaps back to his original tab.

It’s a social media site, and he’s in the midst of finishing up a private message. His fingers hover over the send key, nerves holding him back. In the corner of the screen, we can see the profile.

Bridgette Gardner.

Charlie stares at the message he typed out, clenching his jaw… then he hits send. Definitively. Disrupting the familial embargo.

No turning back now.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Riley is finishing up packing the last of her things, zipping her suitcase. Maya’s stuff is waiting on her bed, making it clear both of them will be going with Isadora.

CORY MATTHEWS enters the room, claiming Maya is downstairs calling the car service.

Riley: So you’re carrying her things, then?

Cory: Yeah, fascinating how she makes that work. The world is her personal assistant.

Riley laughs, lugging her bag off the bed. Cory takes the chance before she goes to let her know he’s so grateful that she’s not moving upstate. He heard her when she said she didn’t want to be in the middle of him and Topanga, and he’s going to do his best to honor that. He’s just happy she’s sticking with him for her last year at Adams.

Riley gives him a hug, assuring him that it was an easy choice. As they’re embracing, Riley delicately brings up Lucas and questions whether or not now is a good time to have that difficult conversation -- that she’s now dating the school “delinquent.”

Cory: Mm, no. Nope, not now. Go, quickly.

Riley laughs again, picking up her bag while Cory goes to grab Maya’s.

EXT. ERIC’S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Lucas jogs his way up the stairs to Eric’s building, duffle bag on his shoulder.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY

Eric lets him in, Lucas asking if they’re all ready to go. Eric claims he is, he’s just getting the last of their travel documents together. He can go check in with Isadora, she’s back in her room.

Lucas nods, dropping his duffle on the couch and making his way back into the hall.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S ROOM - DAY

Lucas makes his way inside, ignoring the slight disaster area that is Isadora’s room. It’s clear she hasn’t put much effort into maintaining it -- understandable, given the circumstances.

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is sitting on the small chest pushed in front of the window, looking out towards the city. Her hair is pulled up haphazardly out of her face, and she’s dressed in a dark sweatshirt despite the warm weather. She doesn’t look at Lucas as he comes in.

Her suitcase and backpack are all set on the bed, but she’s not wearing shoes and isn’t making any moves to get going. Lucas tells her they’re leaving soon, starting to dig through the debris to find her shoes. Does she know what pair she wants to wear? Did she already pack --

Isadora: Don’t worry about it. [ flatly ] I’m not going.

Lucas pauses, eyeing her. His concern and surprise only last for a moment, before he rebuilds his aloof, relaxed facade and continues to search for her shoes. He could react to the bold declaration, try to reason with Isadora or give her treacly reassurances -- but that’s not how the two of them are. He knows how to talk to her, and sympathy isn’t what she needs. She’s gotten and will get plenty of that in the next few days.

So Lucas shrugs, claiming that’s fine. Eric can probably handle the legal affairs they’ll want her to sort out, and any of Valerie’s sympathetic friends will find a way to get their well wishes to her if they’re really determined.

Like clockwork, his nonchalance prompts Isadora to elaborate on her thinking -- why should she bother to go? What will she get out of it? The only reason she ever went to Los Angeles is no longer there. They’re going for Valerie, but they’re not really going for Valerie. She’s not there, there’s nothing to go for. And she doesn’t feel like having a bunch of people she hardly knows tell her how much her mom loved her and what a wonderful amazing person she was. Doesn’t sound like fun. No thanks. What’s the point?

Lucas acknowledges that truth, and doesn't try to convince her that it’ll be different. It’ll probably be exactly like that. He manages to find her black Converse, picking them up and walking over to join her by the window.

Lucas: The only thing you left out is the part where I’m there with you. And when it gets to be too much, or some really obnoxious Hollywood starlet is crying in your arms about how fantastic Valerie was, I’ll be there to pry her off you and accidentally spill funeral reception punch on her.

Isadora: Don’t think that would make a very favorable impression.

Lucas: It’s fine -- I think I’ve realized my career in show business is a shot in the dark. Unfortunate, I know.

Isadora: I don’t know what the world will do without you.

Lucas: Think they’ll manage. There’s plenty of grumpy white boys to cover for me.

He holds out the shoes for her, giving her the choice on whether or not to take them.

Lucas: But you don’t have to. You’ve got me, and all the other misfit pals you’ve collected this year. Seriously, your taste in friends is baffling.

Isadora glares at him… and then cracks the ghost of a smile. She takes the shoes begrudgingly, starting to pull them on.

EXT. AIRLINER - DAY

A cross-country flight takes off across the sky, a pilot pleasantly explaining their cruising altitude and expected arrival time.

INT. AIRLINER - COACH - DAY

In one row of seats, Isadora is slouched between Riley and Lucas. She’s obviously not in the mood to talk, gritting her teeth and twisting her headphones around her fingers while Riley and Lucas attempt to carry on a quiet conversation over her head. She gets fed up relatively quick, patience wafer thin due to everything else she’s processing at the moment.

Isadora: Oh my God, enough! [ to Riley ] Switch with me.

Riley: What?

Isadora: Switch with me. I don’t want to listen to you both romance over me for six hours straight.

Lucas: … we weren’t even --

Riley: Um, I mean, if that’s what you want --

Riley raises her hands in surrender, the two of them pulling off a tight exchange as Isadora plops into the window seat and Riley takes the middle. Isadora buckles her seatbelt and curls up as small as possible, putting her headphones back on. Riley looks to Lucas uncertainly, the latter shrugging. Best not to push it further.

Meanwhile, Maya is in a mood of her own, obviously disgruntled at being stuck in the middle seat between Farkle and Zay. She’s taking up about half their space as well, lounging dramatically and grumbling.

Maya: This is disturbed. What capital crime did I commit to be given the middle seat?

Farkle: You’re kidding, right?

Maya: Why would I jest about my pain, Farkle Xavier Minkus?

Farkle: You’re taking up three-quarters of the row!

Zay: [ crammed against the window ] Doing this for Isa, doing it for Isa…

Maya lets out a grand sigh, tilting her head back.

Maya: It’s bullshit. We’re stuck back here, yet Jack and Eric --

INT. AIRLINER - FIRST CLASS - DAY

Yet Jack and Eric are enjoying first class, reclined comfortably in their roomy seats. Champagne sits on their tray table, Eric less sure than Jack. He wonders if they deserve to be splurging.

Jack, nonchalant: You brought me on this trip to help you. I’m just doing what you requested, making this as non-stressful as possible.

He picks up his champagne glass, grabbing Eric’s and putting it into his hand. He raises it indicatively.

Jack: To no stress.

Eric: Ha ha ha.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Jack and Eric clink their glasses together.

EXT. AIRLINER - DAY

The flight descends upon the sunny city of Los Angeles.

INT. LOS ANGELES INT’L AIRPORT - DAY

Their flight deplanes, Jack and Eric waiting for the kiddos to emerge. Maya is the first to step out, starry-eyed already. Zay wanders towards the window, glancing out towards the palm trees. It’s always about the palm trees when you first land in LA.

Zay: Y’all, check it --

The others come to join him. They stare out at the world of Los Angeles waiting for them, mixed expressions on their faces. Isadora looks least enthused, having seen it all before.

A smile spreads across Maya’s face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Party in the U.S.A.” as performed by Pitch Perfect Cast || Performed by Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Zay Babineaux, Farkle Minkus, and Eric Matthews

Maya kicks off the impromptu number, delighting in the truth of “I hopped off the plane at LAX…” She spins and starts wandering towards the exit, Riley following behind her and joining in. It doesn’t take long for Farkle and Zay to join in on the harmony.

Jack clasps his hands together, clearing his throat. Lucas stands next to him, tilting his head back in resignation and rolling his eyes.

Jack: Okay, we’re in a public place. Maybe let’s not…

Too late, Jackie! The performers are off and running, and there’s no stopping them now. The shenanigans do seem to give a sense of normalcy to Isadora, so Eric happily jumps in on the harmonies with them. The group of them dance their way through the LAX concourse, Riley taking Lucas’s hand and dragging him along with them.

They step out the doors and into the crazy traffic, Maya still front and center as she concludes the number with a grin. Great way to uplift the spirits in one of the worst airports in the world!

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - DAY

The exterior of the famous and glamorous Beverly Hills Hotel. Valet guides cars through the driveway, guests and tourists alike coming and going through the doors.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - LOBBY - DAY

The crew heads into the spacious lobby, Eric and Isadora approaching the front desk to check-in. Maya rattles off diva nerd facts about the historic hotel. Lucas tries to make himself smaller, feeling wholly out of place and certain he’s going to accidentally break something.

Eric and Isadora chat with the desk attendant, confirming their complimentary rooms on behalf of Valerie’s people and the hotel. Eric states that if it’s too much trouble they can find other accommodations, but the attendant assures them they’re happy to host them. Valerie was a dear loyal guest of the hotel, so they’re more than happy to help her daughter while she’s here.

Well, good enough for them. The keys slide across the counter.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - DAY

If you’ve never seen a suite in the Beverly Hills Hotel, it’s worth a Google search. These rooms are nice, a glamorous king size bed boasting maximum comfort while a lounge chaise bookends it. Lucas tentatively drops his backpack on the bed, still feeling out of place.

The other boys get a look around, Zay commenting on how sleek the place is. Farkle doesn’t seem all that impressed, comparing it to some upscale hotel in New York that his family stays at often. Zay and Lucas exchange a look, rolling their eyes.

Farkle brings up the obvious question, wondering which one of them is going to get stuck on the chaise. Zay and Lucas lock eyes again, looking in Farkle’s direction pointedly.

Farkle: What? Are you serious? [ to Zay ] Lucas over me?

Zay, with a shrug: I’ve made choices.

Farkle scowls, dropping his bag on the chaise.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

Maya throws back the curtains of their room, taking in the view with a sigh and letting in the notorious LA sunshine. She’s already listing all of the things they have to do and try in their short time in the city of stars, but Riley delicately reminds her that they’re not just here to explore and go nuts.

There’s an awkward pause, the girls glancing towards Isadora. She waves them off, claiming Maya’s attitude is fine. That should be what this trip is about -- she’d rather it be about their first adventure in LA than the actual reason they’re there.

Maya flops onto the bed, reveling in the luxury. Don’t have to tell her twice, Izzy.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM C - DAY

Jack and Eric are settling into their room, Jack unpacking his things on his bed. The two of them discuss the rooming situation they’ve set up, acknowledging that there really wasn’t a good way to sort that group of kiddos.

Jack: Do you think they’ll stick to our assignments?

Eric: I’ll be honest, I don’t think they’re going to listen to a word I say this entire trip.

Maybe so, Eric. Maybe so. Jack gives him a bracing pat on the shoulder.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - NIGHT

The clock on the side table reads 11PM, but the girls are already out for the night after a long day of travel and lots going on in the morning. Riley is curled up on the chaise and fast asleep, Maya unceremoniously sprawled across two-thirds of the bed and also out like a light.

Isadora is awake, turned towards the clock and watching it tick later and later. There’s no way she’s going to sleep -- way too much buzzing in her head to process. She pushes herself out of bed, tip-toeing towards the door.

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - POOL - NIGHT

Isadora has taken to wandering the hotel, hoping it’ll clear her head. No dice -- she can feel herself growing more and more overwhelmed. If she can’t even make it through half a day, how is she going to survive this trip?

She approaches the edge of the pool, cast in a blue glow from the reflection of the water. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to center herself.

After a moment, she decisively pulls up her phone and dials a number. The only source of comfort who doesn’t happen to be there with her. She paces along the pool side as she waits for them to pick up, chewing on her lip.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora’s pacing is intercut with Asher’s room, switching back and forth between the two. A phone buzzes on the nightstand, ringing with Isadora’s call. Dylan rouses awake, clumsily reaching for the phone.

Dylan, half-asleep: Hello?

Isadora: Dylan? Can you talk?

Dylan agrees, pushing himself onto his elbow. Asher startles awake next to him, asking what’s going on. Isadora is surprised to hear his voice.

Isadora: Is Asher there too? What are you all doing so late?

Dylan: Dor, it’s like… two in the morning here.

Oh. Duh. Dylan and Asher practically live together -- of course Asher would be there, because they’re asleep. Isadora curses, apologizing profusely for waking them up.

Isadora: Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think --

Dylan: S’all good. Give me one second…

Dylan gently extricates himself from Asher’s hold, the latter already drifting back to sleep. Dylan tip-toes to the closet and shuts himself inside, explaining that he didn’t want to keep Asher up, but he can talk for a little bit.

Isadora: In the closet?

Dylan: Sure. I never spent much time in here anyway, so.

Hardy har har. Isadora can’t help but smile, Dylan already brightening her mood. The exact reason she called him in the first place.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - NIGHT

Lucas and Zay are both asleep, but Farkle is tossing and turning on the chaise. It may have been a bit cruel to relegate him to it, considering his legs are dangling off the edge. He huffs and sits up, deciding he will not be falling asleep any time soon.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - NIGHT

Farkle opts to explore as well, giving us an exquisite montage of the interior of the illustrious space. He takes his time getting a good look around, absorbing the historic elegance.

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - NIGHT

Farkle emerges out towards the pool, hesitating when he hears Isadora’s voice. He backs up out of sight and peers around the pillar he’s hiding behind, eavesdropping.

Isadora continues to pace the length of the pool, explaining to Dylan how there’s so many emotions she’s trying to process being here that it’s like it’s all blocked. She doesn’t even know where to start. She wants to be excited about being in LA with her friends who have never been, but the reason is so unpleasant. She hasn’t even begun to actually cope with why they’re there, and she knows it’s going to be brutal when it actually hits her. She’s surrounded by friends, and yet she still feels distinctly alone.

Dylan can’t exactly speak to that feeling considering he was so young when he lost his mom, but he reminds Isadora that whatever she’s grappling with is valid. And even if it feels like she is, she’s definitely not alone -- all of those people wouldn’t have gone out there with her if she was. And he’s there in spirit too, even if he’s not there physically.

Farkle absorbs Isadora’s side of the conversation, taking in her confusion and stress. He’s contemplative, really thinking on what his purpose for being there is and why Isadora invited him to come at all. He’s there to support her, extend the same stability she tried to offer him when he was at a low point.

Now, he just has to figure out how to go about that. Time to put that genius mind to work…

INT. LAW FIRM - DAY

The next morning, Isadora and Eric sit in the dreary waiting room of a law firm. The building is bland in comparison to the beautiful locations of LA we’ve seen so far. Isadora sits with a blank expression, but next to her Eric’s leg bounces up and down, eyes flitting from person to person as they walk by.

Stilettos click on the floor, a woman in a blouse and pencil skirt approaching the pair with a sympathetic smile. She certainly looks kinder than other lawyers we’ve come to know and dislike. After she introduces herself as Valerie’s estate manager, THERESA, she guides Isadora and Eric into her office.

INT. LAW FIRM - THERESA’S OFFICE - DAY

Theresa explains what arrangements have been made for Valerie’s funeral, along with what the process of the will will look like. Eric asks questions here and there, but Isadora stays blank, nodding along when necessary.

Theresa: I understand that you’ll be very busy over the next couple of days, but if you could set some time aside to look through Miss De La Cruz’s belongings on her estate and decide if you’d like to keep anything for yourself, that would be great.

Isadora: Oh, no, I don’t… no, that’s okay. I’m fine.

Eric frowns but presses his lips together, choosing not to comment. It’s not his place, not now.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - DAY

Back at the hotel, Lucas and Zay are discussing the fancy accommodations as they finish getting ready. It’s actually a nice bonding moment between the two of them, expressing how the glamor of the hotel doesn’t feel like it fits them. Zay isn’t financially as strained as Lucas, but he’s always had trouble associating himself with anything exuberant.

Maya, on the other hand, is thriving. She throws open the door connecting their two rooms and saunters in, throwing her arms out wide and declaring how amazing it is that they’re here and in Los Angeles -- getting the star treatment they deserve. Lucas rolls his eyes.

Lucas: You don’t take a day off, do you?

Maya: I’m an opportunist. Do you know what that means, Gothic Butch Cassidy?

Lucas: Your friend’s mom is dead. You remember that, right?

Zay: Nah, Maya is right. I mean, she’s fucking insane --

Maya: So sweet.

Zay: But she’s right. We’re in LA. We should be taking advantage of it while we’re here, in spite of the tragedy.

Maya: Especially because Izzy literally told us to. If she doesn’t want us harping on Val any more than necessary, I’m gonna respect that.

Lucas, deadpan: I’m sure that’s so challenging for you.

Riley interrupts their bickering, entering with Farkle and carrying bubble teas (Boba, an LA trend) for them to try. As they hand them out, Riley agrees with both points. They should try to enjoy their first visit to Los Angeles, but they do need to remember why they’re here. Isadora doesn’t want it to be a big deal, but it still matters. They need to make sure that above all else, regardless of whatever else they do, the priority is her.

The group nods along, half-distracted by the bubble tea. Their reactions to the drink are somewhat humorous, especially Lucas, who just looks confused as he drinks it.

As if on cue, Isadora returns from the estate meeting and finds them grouped in the other room. Farkle hands her the last bubble tea, which she takes but doesn’t drink. Riley pretends as though they weren’t just talking about her, asking her what she thinks she wants to do today.

Isadora is already exhausted, physically and emotionally. She claims she doesn’t feel like doing anything but resting. Maya fails to hide her disappointment, making Isadora brush them off.

Isadora: No, look, you all should go out. Do not let me… be a thing. I’ll be fine, go explore. Have fun.

Zay: Are you sure?

Isadora: I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.

Isadora retreats. Riley searches for a compromise, leading the charge after her.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

Riley catches up with Isadora, stating that they can split up. The others can go out, while she and Lucas hang around here with Isadora. They would love to just chill with her.

Riley, pointedly: Right, Lucas?

Lucas: Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s cool.

Already acting like a married couple, it seems. Farkle and Zay exchange amused looks. Maya assures Isadora that she’ll fill her in on everything when they come back.

Then she takes Zay and Farkle’s arms, eyes already twinkling with adventure.

Zay: So… what, then?

Maya: Don’t fret, Babineaux. I have lots of ideas.

EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Love LA” as performed by Randy Newman || Instrumental

Randy Newman sets the scene as we get our quintessential montage of exploring LA. The divas are at full enthusiasm as they make their way throughout iconic Los Angeles spots. We’re talking sunglasses on, selfies abound, three star performers in the city that might very well be home to them someday. Good, fun times only!

EXT. PERSHING SQUARE - DAY

Maya, Zay, and Farkle are in Pershing Square, having covered the tourist spots and now exploring downtown Los Angeles. Maya and Zay are still energized, but Farkle seems to be tiring as he settles in the shade by one of the fountains. He’s lost in his own head when Maya turns on him, asking his opinion on which landmark they should visit next.

Farkle admittedly wasn’t listening, so he isn’t much help. He comments that Zay and Maya should go on and do whatever they want, he’s probably going to take a minute to rest. Maya asks if he’s okay, Farkle assuring her he is. They shouldn’t wait up for him.

Maya: I mean… you know, your mother would kill me if she knew I left you alone.

Zay: Yeah, you’re not going to like… I mean…

Farkle: Believe me, Isaiah, if I were planning to off myself again, downtown Los Angeles would not be my venue of choice.

Well, guess they’ll have to take his word. Maya tells him to text her when he catches up. Farkle watches them go, exhaling and reclining back on the edge of the fountain. He’s more easily exhausted than he used to be, and he knows he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

He stares up at the cloudless LA sky. Sunny, blue, miles away from the overcast Manhattan.

Farkle pushes himself back into a sitting position. Walking might do him some good, but at his own pace. He starts heading down the block, poking around for himself.

EXT. LOS ANGELES THEATRE - DAY

Farkle comes across the Los Angeles Theatre, a historic performing arts theater. He stares up at the elegant signage, some of that sparkle coming back into his eyes.

INT. LOS ANGELES THEATRE - DAY

There are other folks milling about in the lobby of the gorgeous theater, so Farkle does his best to skate under the radar. His former power of being invisible comes in handy, allowing him to get a good look around without trouble. When he spots a door to backstage propped open for maintenance, he freezes.

Farkle: No way...

It’s too good to be true. It’s like a television show. He can’t. He shouldn’t…

Moments later, Farkle slips through the open door and disappears into the theater.

INT. LOS ANGELES THEATRE - STAGE - DAY

Farkle’s shoes tread cautiously as he eases out from the wings and onto the stage, eyes wide as he takes in the grand house auditorium in front of him. This is another level beyond Triple A -- he feels dwarfed on the stage, a starry-eyed hopeful suddenly amongst the big leagues.

He stands front and center, taking a deep breath. When is he ever going to have an experience like this again… and no one is around… what would Rachel Berry do…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Man About Town” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (starting at 00:32)

The performance is entirely a capella, and timid to start. Farkle sings the verses slowly, throwing us back to his first ever performance in AMBITION -- from a feral, spiraling sophomore ready to kill for the spotlight on the AAA stage to back from the dead and standing on the cusp of a whole new world. It’s pointed how much change he’s endured since that first introduction, how much we’ve come to understand about him and what he’s come to learn on his own.

Despite his nerves, Farkle is a natural, and it’s not long before he’s fully into it. He spins and paces along the front of the stage, milking the faux moment of starlight.

He throws his arms out and belts out the last a capella note, throwing his head back and basking in the glow. He exhales, smile bright on his face.

Attendant: Hey!

Farkle’s bravado crumbles immediately. He jumps violently and curses, squinting towards the house like a deer in headlights. A THEATER ATTENDANT is standing in the back, asking him how the hell he got in and what he thinks he’s doing. Farkle apologizes profusely, launching into a frenzied explanation.

Farkle: I was just -- I saw that the door was open, and -- what you need to know about me is that I’m a performer. It’s in my blood. So I see an opportunity, I need to… there’s a whole other layer, too. See, earlier this year I tried to kill myself -- long story --

Long story or short, the attendant isn’t interested. He tells Farkle to scram and he starts to obey, when another voice disrupts the fray.

An esteemed-looking gentleman steps in through the house doors, asking again who Farkle thinks he is. Although Farkle stammers over his own introduction, the man’s is effortless and intimidating -- this is JONATHAN TURNER, a talent agent and producer. He looks at Farkle with reserved intrigue.

Turner: You sing like that all the time? Or just on a good day?

Farkle: … I don’t deliver anything less than excellence, sir.

There’s a bold promise. But Farkle is a Minkus -- he’s been trained for business since he could talk. Turner explains that he’s currently working on a production of Pippin, and they’ve been searching for some fresh, young talent. If he can sing like that again in front of their creative team, they might have more to discuss.

So this is really how it happens out here in the city of angels, huh? Turner approaches the stage and jots down information on a scrap of paper from his pocket, passing it to Farkle. If he can come back tomorrow at that time, killer performance in tow…

Attendant: Unbelievable…

Unbelievable, indeed. Farkle stares at the information in his hands, Turner giving him an offhand goodbye as he saunters back out just as casually as he entered.

Riley, pre-lap: It’s like we’ve forgotten what this trip is about.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - DAY

Riley is pacing the floor of the boys room, although from the way all of their things are starting to disperse throughout both rooms, Eric was probably right that their set arrangements won’t last long. Lucas listens to her from his chair by the window, originally looking out towards Beverly Hills but now taking in an entirely different view.

Riley: And I get it, I mean, I do. It’s amazing that we’re out here, especially since most of us have never even been here before. But… Isadora invited us to come along because she needed support. And it’s like we’re not even doing that.

Lucas: Kind of hard to when she won’t let us.

Riley: I don’t know. I just think… I can’t imagine. [ shaking her head ] I can’t imagine grappling with what she is right now.

Lucas frowns. It seems like he wants to reassure her, but he doesn’t have the words. So he tries for action instead, closing the space between them and coming to stand with her.

His touch is tentative but intentional, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Crazy how things change, how they can do this now -- how they’re still Riley and Lucas, but they’re something else now too. And it’ll take some getting used to, but it’s evident he intends to try.

Riley glances at him, offering a weak smile. She takes his hand in her own, linking their fingers together between them. The moment lingers, uncertain and new but more than welcome.

It’s interrupted by Isadora reentering the other room, the door to the hall shutting behind her. Lucas disconnects their hands as Riley leads the way into the other room to greet her.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

Riley asks her how lunch with Eric went, as he made sure that Isadora got some food in her after an exhausting morning. She claims it was fine, and when Lucas asks her for details on how the meeting with the estate manager went, she dodges the question. Not too much to report, in her opinion. She needs to keep her mental facilities up for tomorrow more than anything else.

Ah, yes. Tomorrow. The funeral. Riley and Lucas exchange a look, the latter questioning if Isadora is feeling prepared for that. She states no -- how could she be -- but she’ll deal. And she hates the way they’re acting around her, like they’re walking on eggshells.

Isadora: You don’t have to treat me like a house of cards. I’m not going to keel over if you breathe too hard.

Riley: That’s not it. I think we’re just --

Lucas: You know we don’t think that.

Isadora: Maybe, but your actions say otherwise. [ to Lucas ] You and I have never been soft with one another. Not in this kind of way, where you’re so obviously tip-toeing around me. I’m sorry if I’m being unpredictable --

Riley: You don’t have to apologize.

Isadora: But I just want things to feel normal, alright? Like, if my best friends could just treat me like they always do, then maybe the absence wouldn’t be so pronounced. If everything else could stay the same, then a major change wouldn’t feel so earth-shattering. So can we just… I don’t know, can we just stop? I already feel bad that you’re giving up your time in Los Angeles to sit around and pity me, I don’t need to hear it in your voice, too.

Isadora settles down on the bed, rubbing her face. Riley hesitates before stepping forward and joining her on the bed. She acknowledges Isadora’s points about their behavior -- which they’ll try to rein in -- but she shouldn’t feel bad about their choice to stay with her. That’s not what they’re there for.

Riley: Ever since I came to Triple A, you have been in my corner. You guys were my people, even in moments where things fell apart. So it’s not a chore for me to be here with you, Dora. As long as you want me here, that’s where I’m going to be.

Lucas nods along, in total agreement. Isadora lifts her gaze to look at them, landing on Lucas.

Lucas: You know where we stand.

That she does. They may have stumbled this past year, but the three of them are a team. It’s never going to be too much to ask that they stand by each other.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “You’ve Got A Friend” as performed by Carole King || Performed by Riley Matthews

Riley delivers the sentiment through this gentle ode to friendship, reiterating the point that she will always have Isadora’s back -- all she has to do is ask. Lucas saunters over to sit down with them after the first verse, he and Riley supporting her from either side although they know her well enough to respect her personal space.

Although Isadora isn’t fully convinced, the solidarity is sincere, and she clearly appreciates it. We hold on the three of them for a moment more… how far this trio has come in two years…

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - NIGHT

As expected, the room arrangements have been completed mixed up. Riley has swapped space with Farkle, sleeping peacefully with Lucas and Zay on either side of her. Although quite impressively taking up as little space as possible -- almost like he has practice -- Lucas stretches out an arm that covers Riley’s face. She grumbles and turns over, inadvertently shoving Zay so that his legs dangle off the edge of the bed.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - NIGHT

Farkle is curled up on the chaise, tired enough to actually make sleep there work. Maya is in bed with an eye mask tangled up in her hair rather than on her face. It’s not the prettiest of sights.

A thud from the other side of the wall and Zay’s quiet yelp does nothing to stir Farkle, but Maya sits up in confusion. Looking around, she discovers that the other half of the bed is empty.

Maya climbs out of bed with a yawn, sliding into a pair of hotel slippers. She checks her phone for the time and sends a quick text to Isadora before setting out to search.

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - POLO LOUNGE PATIO - NIGHT

Maya can’t help but take in the beauty of each spot she searches, the hotel taking on an ethereal vibe in the moonlight. The Polo Lounge looks particularly stunning, decorated with a multitude of flowers, stars shining down on the patio. Isadora sits on a step looking up at said stars, not noticing Maya until she’s standing next to her.

Maya: Can’t sleep?

Isadora shakes her head. Maya nods towards the table behind them, where an unlighted candle and small vase of fuchsia flowers sit ready for the morning.

For a moment, they sit in silence. Then, Isadora tentatively apologises. Confused, Maya questions what she’s sorry for.

Isadora: Valerie made a promise to you and your mom, and she broke it. Now your plans are ruined. I’d be mad if I were you, so I thought...

Maya: Izzy, I’m not mad. At you or Val. [ a beat ] I mean, I’m upset. I lost a mentor, my lifelong role model. But you lost your mom, however much of one she was. I can’t even…

Maya can’t wrap her head around it. She shakes her head wordlessly.

Maya: You don’t need to be worrying about me being mad at you, or our friendship being ruined, or anything like that. After everything we’ve survived this year, this is not going to be the thing that tears us apart.

Isadora manages a weak smile. On reflex, Maya leans forwards as if to hug her, but catches herself in time.

Isadora: I think... a hug is okay right now.

Well, that’s a surprise. She opens her arms but Isadora tenses and shakes her head rapidly. Maya leans back, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Isadora: Maybe you could... rest your head on my shoulder. For like half a minute.

If that’s all she’s going to get, she’ll take it. Maya shuffles her chair closer before putting her head on Isadora’s shoulder. She tenses, but relaxes after a moment, resting her head on Maya’s.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - DAY

It’s funeral day, and the mood is gentle amongst Isadora’s posse. They’re all getting ready, Farkle slipping past Riley through the door between rooms in a suit and tie combination. She gives him a smile, dressed in a simple black dress with three-quarter sleeves and a flare skirt.

Her smile widens when she sees Lucas, dressed about as nicely as he was for the Jacobs Gala only with a more demure color palette. He’s struggling to loop a tie around his neck, not at all familiar with the common formal item. Riley approaches, coming to stand in front of him.

Riley: Having trouble?

Lucas, sheepishly: Believe it or not, I’ve never had much of a need for these.

Riley: You, fashion extraordinaire? I can’t believe it. [ with a smile ] Here.

Riley takes over, gently tying it for him. The moment is quiet between them, Riley finishing the knot and smoothing the neck of the tie along his torso. It’s only then that they really recognize how close they’re situated, how different their dynamic is now that allows for, even encourages, this proximity.

It’s a strange thing to be figuring out in the midst of something so tragic. Lucas murmurs a thanks, keeping his eyes on their feet. Riley examines him, not sure how to navigate the situation either. She knows how the exchange should feel, how she wants them to be, but the circumstances complicate things. Not to mention everything they’re carrying from the past…

Riley: Lucas… you know that --

Lucas lifts his gaze to look at her just as they’re interrupted, Jack knocking lightly and stepping into the room. He asks how things are going and if they’re nearly ready to leave. Riley and Lucas step away from one another, Riley exhaling a laugh.

Riley: Crisis averted in here. The others should be basically ready, I think.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

Maya is finishing up styling herself at the vanity, calling over Isadora to take a seat. She doesn’t need too much done with her hair, so Maya focuses on doing some light makeup. Isadora is in a pantsuit, and Maya brings the glamour that Valerie so loved with a black sparkly dress.

Behind them, Riley shuffles in and rummages through Isadora’s suitcase to look for something in particular. She produces a delicate silver necklace with a star hanging from it in victory. It’s one we’ve seen before, as part of Isadora’s star-themed prom outfit. Isadora notices it in the mirror and Riley smiles.

Riley: I thought you might want to wear something connected to your mom, so... I got Lucas to sneak it in while you were packing. [ nervously ] Did I overstep?

Isadora: No, it’s fine. [ a beat ] I guess a necklace would look nice.

As Riley lights up and brings the necklace over, Maya questions how it’s connected to Valerie. In a quiet voice, Isadora explains that she gave it to her on prom night to go with the dress. When she has the necklace, she turns the star over to reveal an engraving:

“To my star. Love, Mom.”

Riley tears up, Maya clearing her throat. But Isadora remains blank. She passes it back to Riley so that she can help secure it around her neck.

Zay knocks lightly, poking his head in between the rooms. Maya takes over the vanity to double check her appearance, so Isadora moves over towards him.

Zay: How you holding up? We’re basically good.

Isadora: Well, I’m ready. Don’t know about those two.

Maya and Riley assure the pair that they’re ready. Pretty much. Almost. Just hang on one more second. Zay sighs before offering his arm in the same mock gentlemanly support that he did at the Artists of Color Mixer.

Zay: Ready?

Isadora playfully rolls her eyes, relieved at the lack of heavy tension that she’s felt with everyone else so far today. She takes his arm gently, then changes her mind and takes his wrist instead. He gives her a small, reassuring smile, the two of them heading out.

EXT. FUNERAL SERVICE - DAY

Isadora’s crew arrive at the venue where the funeral is being held, a pleasant, unassuming funeral home in the heart of Valerie’s neighborhood when she was growing up. In the back is a lush, spacious outdoor space where the reception will be held in conjunction with the foyer.

Isadora leads the group, the six of them coming to stand in front of the steps to the parlor in their black tie best. She swallows, marching up the steps without comment.

INT. FUNERAL SERVICE - PARLOR - DAY

The interior of the space is beautiful and intricate, adding a semblance of Valerie’s unmistakable glamor to the whole affair. Even in death, her presence is palpable. Theresa rushes up to greet Isadora as she enters, asking how she’s feeling and introducing herself to the group.

She starts to explain the details of how the funeral will proceed. When she mentions Isadora standing up by the casket to meet with guests, her eye is drawn to the closed casket up in the front of the room. Suddenly, Isadora is gripped with panic, imagining her mother unmoving and unseeing in the coffin. It’s plain from the look on her face how disturbing that visual is to her, matched against the living memory of Valerie who always seemed particularly alive.

Theresa quickly assuages her concerns, clarifying that the casket is empty. Valerie has been cremated as per her wishes in her living will. That’s something for them to discuss later, as Valerie did have specific desires about what might be done with her remains when the time came -- although they were all expecting that to be much later. But Isadora doesn’t need to worry about that right now. For now, she just needs to take it one day at a time.

Isadora steps past Theresa, making her way down the aisle between pews to the front of the room. She eyes the empty casket, expression blank… then, her gaze drifts to the large wreathed photo of Valerie on display. It’s the first she’s seen of her mother since she heard the news, and even the photo on display doesn't feel like her. It’s caught between her star persona and the Valerie Isadora knew -- hard to say which version is being mourned this afternoon.

Isadora swallows, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo. As Maya’s uncharacteristically delicate mezzo floats in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Fly Away” as performed by Poe || Performed by Maya Hart (up to 3:40)

Maya’s slated performance as an homage to Valerie acts as the backdrop for a montage of the funeral, taking us through each step of the ceremony. A priest and former friend of Valerie’s leads most of the speaking, our crew and dozens of other guests listening in the pews. Riley wipes tears as subtly as she can manage.

Isadora shakes hands with mourners young and old, famous and plain, and accepts their condolences. Although she manages a smile now and then, the experience is obviously uncomfortable for her. So many people her mom inspired and touched, yet she doesn’t know any of them. It’s a separate world, one that the two of them never bridged.

Maya’s solo is one of the most grounded renditions she’s ever delivered, nothing glitzy or distracting about it. It’s also the most emotive she’s been this entire time, her defenses coming down and eyes glossy as she performs. It’s an honor to be performing at the goodbye of one of your most idolized heroes -- but she’d rather there be no reason for it. A bittersweet sensation, and the crack in her facade that shows just how much she’s hurting over the loss as well.

As the final piano and woodwind takes us out, the ceremony transitions to the reception…

EXT. FUNERAL SERVICE - RECEPTION - DAY

Guests are milling about in the gorgeous outdoor gardens, enjoying one another’s company and observing the displays to Valerie’s life that have been set up all throughout the lawn.

Isadora stands on her own amongst the guests, an untouched drink in hand. She watches the people around her, many household names. Some go to approach her, but with the way her arms are wrapped around herself and the hint of a glare on her face, they leave her alone.

Jack, however, isn’t deterred. He saunters up to join her, acting nonchalant.

Jack: How are you doing?

Isadora: I don’t know a fucking thing about any of these people.

Ignoring the foul language, Jack listens as Isadora goes on to say that her mom inhabited a whole world that she knows nothing about. Valerie was going to give it all up to move to New York and live with Isadora… but she couldn’t follow through. Yet again. The anger and spite are clear in her words -- not the most conventional of emotions at a wake, but just as valid.

Unsure how to respond, Jack provides Isadora with an awkward “there, there” pat on the shoulder. Isadora frowns at him, and they fall into an uncomfortable silence.

Meanwhile, Maya is fielding compliments from other mourners on her performance. Farkle stands by her, the two of them conversing in between interruptions from other guests. They’re offhandedly discussing both of their interactions with Isadora in the last couple of days, wondering if there’s more they could be doing to help her.

Maya: Look, I know Friar thinks I’m a sociopath --

Mourner, interrupting: Lovely performance, darling. She would have loved it.

Maya, brightly: Oh, thank you so much. [ back to casual ] But I stand by my stance that normalcy is what Isadora wants. If she wanted me to sit with her and sob about how much I miss Val and how unfair all of this is then believe me, I could do that too. But that’s not what she wants, so that’s not what I’m going to give her.

Farkle: I suppose. But she’s not exactly practicing what she’s preaching. She’s letting all of us have normalcy --

Mourner 2, interrupting: [ in tears ] Such a gorgeous performance. You’re a gift.

Maya, brightly: Thank you so much.

Farkle, once they’re gone: But she’s not taking any of it for herself. She’s isolating.

Maya: Tell me something I don’t know.

Zay disrupts the conversation next, just as Farkle gets a reminder on his phone. Glancing at the screen, he sees that he has thirty minutes until his audition at the Los Angeles Theatre… if he decides he’s going to do it. He awkwardly starts to excuse himself, but Zay provides enough of a distraction anyway.

Zay: So, I don’t want to alarm you, and I know this is a serious situation and definitely not the time, but… Ariana Grande is here.

Maya, ungodly: WHAT?!

Farkle uses the hysteria as his moment to escape, jogging towards the sidewalk to hail an Uber.

INT. FUNERAL SERVICE - DAY

Other mourners are still inside the home, Riley and Lucas amongst them. Riley is signing the funeral registry for the both of them, taking her time to figure out what to say. She isn’t sure whether Isadora is going to end up with it or not, but she wants it to be clear how much it meant for them to be there for her.

Lucas is letting her handle it, looking at the photo of Valerie instead. It’s evident he has just as many mixed feelings about it as Isadora, knowing he should be respectful and honor her now that she’s gone but unable to let go of everything she did while she was alive. Riley snaps him out of it when she finishes their signature, starting to speak.

Riley: I don’t know, I just can’t wrap my head around it. Death is… so prevalent to the natural order of things, and distinctly unavoidable, but it’s like, you don’t think about it until it’s hitting you. And you never know -- I mean, there’s no way to predict this sort of thing. It’s not about age. It’s not about health. The healthiest person in the world could step off the curb at the wrong time and get rammed by a semi and just like that, it’s over. And it’s like, how are you supposed to grapple with that? That anyone -- anyone you care about, or yourself -- in just one instance could be… but I guess that’s life, isn’t it? [ flatly ] The endless and unstoppable march of time towards a definite end.

Lucas is watching her as she rambles, expression soft. She realizes he isn’t saying much, glancing at him and catching the look on his face.

Riley: It’s like, I just don’t know how we’re supposed to… [ looking at him ] What?

Lucas, quietly: You’re so beautiful.

Oh. Odd timing, maybe, but then maybe that’s exactly it. That’s how we keep going in spite of the guarantee of an end -- because the human experience of feeling and exploring and loving is so beautiful in the mean time. Life is short, and it ends, but that doesn’t make it not worth living.

Riley smiles bashfully, looking back towards the guest registry. Lucas clears his throat, dipping his head down and trying to move past the unintentional emotional outburst. Sorry, buddy, you can’t take a lovesick declaration like that back!

EXT. FUNERAL SERVICE - RECEPTION - DAY

Back outside, Isadora wanders towards an elegant display of Valerie’s life through pictures. Although some feature her career, there are many from her childhood and home life, showing her as a real person rather than just a pop idol.

An elderly couple stand together going through the photos, crying and holding each other. When Isadora approaches, their attention moves to her, and the woman gasps. She clutches onto Isadora’s hands, seemingly unaware of the way Isadora tenses in response. We can’t help but notice the resemblance between the couple standing before Isadora and Valerie’s parents in some of the pictures...

Elizabeth: Oh, Isadora, my apo… I am so sorry this has happened.

Oh, yeah, celebrities have parents too. DANILO and ELIZABETH DE LA CRUZ, Valerie’s parents and Isadora’s grandparents -- who until now, she’d never officially connected with. Isadora gives a tight smile, unsure of what else to do.

Her grandmother pulls her into a hug, which her grandfather soon joins. When they let go, both are wiping tears from their eyes. Elizabeth still holds Isadora’s hands, smiling sympathetically.

Danilo: We were never able to get to know you, but perhaps if this tragedy can give us anything, it’s each other.

Elizabeth: We would love to get to know you more, Isadora.

That’s nice, but it’s a lot to absorb when there’s already too much to process. Isadora pulls her hands from Elizabeth, stammering over her words.

Isadora: Um, that’s very nice… I have to… thank you.

She rushes away, not sparing a glance to anyone as she escapes.

INT. UBER - MOVING - DAY

Farkle is having a stressful time of his own. He’s jammed in LA traffic, naturally, the clock ticking closer and closer to his audition. In quick cuts demonstrating his five stages of grief (“Never thought I’d miss Manhattan drivers!”), the moment they get close enough Farkle opts to just make a break for it. He pushes out of the Uber in standstill traffic and takes off at a run towards the Los Angeles Theatre.

EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES - DAY

Farkle tears through the streets in his funeral best, running harder than he’s ran in his entire life. He weaves through tourists, dodges businessmen, accidentally rams into a homeless man. He apologizes, forking over whatever he has in his pocket as compensation -- which, being a Minkus, happens to be a one hundred dollar bill.

Homeless man, dazed: … thank you, crazy white boy!

EXT. LOS ANGELES THEATRE - DAY

Farkle makes it outside the theatre with only a minute to spare, stopping outside the doors and taking a moment to compose himself. He’s overdressed for an audition, and definitely sweaty, but it’ll have to do. He reinstates his Farkle Minkus confidence, marching through the doors...

INT. LOS ANGELES THEATRE - STAGE - DAY

And through the wings, where he makes his way front and center stage. Gearing up to perform on the stage he was never meant to be on for the second time in just a couple of days.

This time, Turner is joined by a couple of other CREATIVE EXECUTIVES. One of them comments on Farkle’s surprisingly formal attire, which he attempts to play off.

Farkle: I like to deliver my best.

Turner asks what he’s planning on performing for them today, in spite of the short notice. Farkle claims he has plenty of songs in his repertoire, but there’s one better suited to right now than anything else he can think of. He’ll be performing “Being Alive,” from the seminal Broadway classic, Company.

As the pianist gets set up with the sheet music from a hefty binder, the third executive asks if Farkle is sure he can handle that number. It’s one of the best, but most challenging, in the Broadway songbook. Not to mention captures a complicated, deep emotional subject for someone so young to try and emulate. Farkle exhales, leveling his gaze.

Farkle: Ma’am, I assure you, I know exactly what it’s all about.

Big promises to keep. The group falls silent and Turner gestures for Farkle to take over. Farkle takes another deep breath, then nods to the pianist.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Being Alive” as performed by Company Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

And boy, does Farkle Xavier Minkus keep those promises. Farkle has given many performances in the last two seasons, in a wide range of genres, intensity, and emotional authenticity. It’s hard for any number to match the emotional rawness of “Santa Fe” (207), but this rendition surpasses it solely due to the catharsis tied into it.

In keeping with many of his better numbers, this performance is supplemented by a chorus of imaginary friends in his head. The rest of our main cast pops in on stage to join Farkle throughout the audition (including ANGELA MOORE, Stuart, and JENNIFER MINKUS), as indicated by the lyric sheet. They give him encouragement, urge him to dig deeper, prompt his energy and growth and confidence as they have since the show began. Only this is a far cry from “It’s All Over,” (111), as this time they’re not tearing him down. They’re rallying behind him, rather than against him.

And that’s all part of the power of the performance. It’s just an audition to Turner and the creatives, but to us, we know the history. We know how we got here. This is not just Farkle expressing his complex emotion through song -- this is Farkle learning a hard lesson, clawing himself out of the darkness, and changing to become something different. He went to Hell and back this season, and whether he’ll be better remains to be seen, but he’s not who he was before.

So when he belts out that last “being alive,” we know how important it is. We know the weight it carries, because there was a time when he almost gave it up. We know just how deeply Farkle understands the beauty and fear and challenge and privilege of being alive.

For what it’s worth, it seems the creative team might also have gotten the message. They’re thoughtfully quiet as Farkle finishes the performance, jotting down notes but unable to break the silence. Farkle stands triumphantly, out of breath, before he manages a slight bow and grateful nod.

Farkle: Thank you for your time.

Then he exits the stage without looking back, disappearing into the darkness of the wings.

EXT. FUNERAL SERVICE - DAY

Eric searches for Isadora. He asks a couple people if they’ve seen her, but no one has.

He heads out of the reception space deeper into the gardens, where the sound of chatter is distant and muffled. Instead, a quiet sniffle can be heard. Eric follows it, and finds Isadora on a bench hidden by shrubbery. A perfect little hiding spot.

Isadora looks up as he approaches. She’s not crying, but she’s close. The hazy look in her eyes shows her current shutdown state.

Eric: I know you’re overwhelmed, so I’m not going to say anything, I’m just going to sit with you. That okay?

Isadora doesn’t answer, but she shuffles so that Eric can sit beside her. They welcome the peace of the garden. Voice barely above a whisper, Isadora starts to talk about how she doesn’t know how to process her mom’s death when it feels as though Valerie has just abandoned her again.

Eric: Abandoned you? Isadora, that’s not what… your mom loved you.

Isadora: How would you know? You only knew the pretty polished version of herself that she presented to the world. But that’s not who she was, was it? She was a drug addict, a bad mother… she was nothing more than a shallow celebrity. Just like everyone else out there, acting as if they lost their prized show dog.

Isadora gestures back towards the reception. Eric sighs.

Eric: You’re right, I didn’t know your mom. And neither did you, not properly. But it was obvious she wanted you to know the real her -- she wanted to share her life with you. Maybe you should take a look around her house while we’re here. Try to get a better picture of her in your mind.

Isadora: What’s the point? She’s gone.

Eric: You can learn more about people even after death.

Isadora, bitter: Her cause of death tells me everything that I need to know.

Eric shakes his head. Quiet settles on them again for a moment.

Eric: I think you’re afraid to love your mom because that means you’ve lost someone special to you. But you can’t shut off your emotions and pretend you never had a relationship with her. [ a beat ] You’re allowed to love someone in spite of their flaws.

Something about the last sentiment hits Isadora. She frowns, the full impact not yet made, but beginning to stew in her subconscious.

Eric: Just give it some thought, okay?

Isadora: Okay.

After one final sympathetic smile, Eric stands up and heads back. He asks Isadora if she’s coming, but she shakes her head. She needs to be on her own for a bit longer.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - DAY

Bright and early the next morning, almost the crack of dawn. Sunlight is just beginning to filter into the window. On the bed, Lucas and Riley are knocked, having fallen asleep while talking late last night. Riley is leaning against him, his arm around her shoulders.

Zay is crashed on the chaise chair, taking his due turn and avoiding another tumble. Maya creeps into the room, making a disgusted face at Riley and Lucas. She crawls along the edge of the bed, leaning over Zay and poking him awake without disturbing the others. He swats at her.

Maya: Zayby. Get up. I have a surprise.

Zay: Go away, blonde devil. Don’t you sleep?

Maya: Not when there’s glamor afoot. Come on.

She nudges him until he nearly rolls off the chaise, lightly cursing. Not the fuck again. Maya grins as he finally relents, agreeing to come with her.

Maya, in a whisper: That’s the spirit. Man of my own heart.

Zay: That’s the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM C - BALCONY - DAY

Eric is also up early, pacing while on the phone with Theresa. He’s trying to negotiate if there’s any way they can just hold Valerie’s estate for a longer stretch of time. Isadora isn’t in a place to want to explore it right now, but he knows if she misses it she’ll regret it later. If they could just have a little more time to ease into the idea…

Unfortunately, their hands are tied. Not to mention Isadora isn’t conveniently located, and they’d hate for her to have to make a whole other trip out here to do something so emotionally taxing. If she’s going to go through Valerie’s things, it has to be now.

Eric accepts the defeat, thanking her either way. Theresa claims that she’ll hold off on sealing Isadora’s agreement to basically sign away all of it until they leave, so she has a little more time to truly consider it.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

This morning, though, Isadora isn’t considering anything. She’s still asleep when everyone else has gotten up for the morning, Riley and Lucas quietly entering the room to find Farkle reading Pride & Prejudice on the chaise at the foot of her bed. They all figure Isadora is going to be catching up on rest after the draining day yesterday.

Farkle claims he can hang around with her while Riley and Lucas go do something in LA. They’ve already given up enough of their time, and he’s happy to contribute his fair share.

Riley: Oh, well, we really don’t mind --

Farkle: Riley, all you have done this trip is be egregiously self-sacrificing and make the rest of us feel guilty for not being so self-sacrificing. Then when I want to be, you can’t accept the charity? [ a beat ] Be realistic. There has to be something you all want to do.

Lucas, with a shrug: I mean, it’s not like --

Riley: Well, you did mention the LA Zoo --

Farkle: Of course. [ rolling his eyes ] A historic and cultural epicenter at your fingertips, and you want to go to the zoo.

Lucas seems like he has some choice words for Farkle, but Farkle avoids them by reiterating his stance that he’s fine with staying with Isadora. They should go do whatever they want to do in the city while they’re still here -- even if it’s as nerdy as going to the zoo.

Lucas: Nerdy? Coming from you?

Riley defuses the friction before it can spark, thanking Farkle and directing Lucas to go get ready. She asks Farkle one more time if he’s sure, but he merely waves her off.

Once he’s alone again, Farkle glances to Isadora sleeping. Then he looks to his phone, hopeful for any news on the audition.

Nothing. He releases a sigh, stretching off the edge of the chaise.

EXT. RODEO DRIVE - DAY

Maya and Zay are making their way along the glamorous streets of Beverly Hills. They’re having their Pretty Woman moment, sipping trendy Los Angeles smoothies infused with charcoal and vitamins as they saunter down the sidewalk and window shop the expensive brands.

Zay: I feel like I can taste the charcoal. [ another sip ] Are we supposed to be able to taste it?

Maya: Take it in, Zay. This is it -- the height of elegance. The epitome of fashion. Our future, laid out before us.

Zay: Way to harpoon 5th Avenue. What kind of New Yorker are you?

Maya nudges him, but then acknowledges his point. She lowers her voice to a whisper, claiming she has to tell him a dark secret.

Maya: I always thought New York City was it. Broadway was the only way, and I wouldn’t be fulfilled anywhere else. But I don’t know… ever since we’ve been here, I could see myself here. An Angelino, absorbing the sunlight and mingling with the cultural elite. It’s a different world out here, but it’s not worse. Just another avenue towards the dream.

So maybe the plan isn’t as iron-clad as Maya always thought. Zay grants her that freedom, claiming they’ve got a whole year to figure this shit out of where they want to end up. For him, he only knows one thing.

Zay: Next year, I’m focusing on me. I’m pulling a Maya Hart, tunnel visioning my future. All the rest of it, romance and all that bullshit, it’s not worth it. I could be doing way better things with my time.

Maya: Yeah, getting dumped will do that to you.

Maya takes a pointed sip of her smoothie. Zay is stunned, wondering what the hell she’s talking about -- only he blurts it out in a way that confirms her theories, rather than seeming innocent. Maya rolls her eyes.

Maya: Oh, come on, Babs. Was I not supposed to know you’ve been canoodling with Charlie like all year long? You two had the most palpable non-antagonistic tension at Triple A. It’s like I could see the little thirst hormones buzzing between you. I’m self-centered, not blind.

Zay, grimacing: Don’t tell Charlie that. I think he’d have a heart attack.

Not-so-secret trysts aside, Maya agrees with his assessment. Next year is the time when things really matter, and Zay is too bright a star not to shine with everything he’s got. If that takes a little single-mindedness, so be it. Maya links her arm with his.

Maya: We’re going places, Zay Babineaux. You and me, our names are going to be in lights soon enough. Mark my words.

Zay will drink to that. They clink their smoothies together in celebration.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

Isadora is up and moving, having gotten herself showered and dressed but not having the energy for much else. She crashes onto the bed as Farkle reenters from the other room, sarcastically complimenting her finally managing to get up.

Isadora: You’re charming. No pity to give, hm?

Farkle: Tit for tat. If you can be snarky to me after I nearly die, I can dish a little back.

Fair enough. Farkle perches himself on the bed while Isadora pushes herself upright. He questions if she really plans to just lay around all day. When she states she doesn’t have any other bright ideas, nor the motivation to do much else, Farkle doesn’t accept it. He states that sitting around isn’t going to do any good. She needs to move. Get active, body and mind.

Farkle: Doing nothing seems like the solution, but it doesn’t help. Believe me, I would know.

Isadora: So, what? What’s your grand proposal, then?

Farkle: First? Getting you out of this hotel. I know it’s Maya’s sanctuary, or whatever, but it’s been your prison basically since we got here. You need to get out, get your mind off it all. Think about something else for a change.

Although he’s being honest, it seems as though Farkle isn’t just talking about mourning Valerie. He’s got things he wants to forget for a minute too, although Isadora doesn’t notice. She doesn’t seem convinced.

It’s going to take a little more nudging to get her going. Thankfully, Farkle has never been short of theatricality to get a job done…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Electric Love” as performed by BORNE || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle gradually launches into the upbeat tune, channeling all of its electric energy into getting Isadora up and moving. He needles at her until she relents, rolling her eyes and climbing out of bed. Farkle dances around the room up through the first verse, leading the way into the hall…

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - HALLWAY - DAY

And continuing the parade into the chorus. It’s a fun change of pace from Farkle’s usual musical selections, a little pop thrown into the mix of Broadway classics and cynical alternative.

EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAY

Farkle continues the march out into the city, Isadora trailing behind him and eyeing him with her usual level of exasperation and confusion. Still, there’s a bit of that fascination -- and perhaps endearment? -- thrown in as well, and as the song progresses and they weave their way through the Los Angeles streets, it’s as if we can see some of the weight lifting off her shoulders.

Definitely putting other things on her mind, no doubt about that.

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - POOL SIDE - DAY

The pool is more crowded in the afternoon than late evening, families and guests enjoying the LA sunshine. Jack is as well… sort of. He’s seated at a table safely away from the water, typing away on his computer and sorting through AAA work emails.

From the expression on his face, they’re not all good. We get a glimpse of the one he’s reading, detailing some new leadership roles that will be implemented via the school board the following year. Just as Jack is digging into it, Eric arrives with drinks and plops down in the seat across from him. He gently shuts his laptop.

Eric: This trip isn’t about work, remember? Margarita?

Jack happily accepts the drink, but he opts to be candid with Eric. He gives him the low down of what Evelyn told him after the school board trial, how there is going to be inevitable change coming to Triple A next year. He doesn’t know what that entails quite yet, but he gets the feeling it’s not going to be good.

Eric absorbs this grim reality, then offers his best optimistic smile.

Eric: Well. Good thing we got this mutual partnership thing figured out just in time.

Point made -- whatever is headed their way, they’ll face it together. For real, this time. Jack exhales half a laugh, nodding and raising his glass in mock cheers.

Bring it on, school board. Bring it on.

EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAY

Isadora and Farkle leave the Getty, rather pretentious people pushing through the doors around them. They start to walk down the sunny Los Angeles street, Isadora looking through a pamphlet from the museum. She eventually stuffs it into her pocket when she sees that there’s nothing of interest in it.

Farkle had been peering down at the pamphlet, so he moves his focus to Isadora. There’s the ghost of a smile on her face, worries temporarily forgotten. It’s nice to see. She catches him looking and gives him a funny look. He looks away, but now they’re both properly smiling.

Isadora, softly: You’ve somehow managed to actually improve my mood. Thank you. I needed this... I needed to stop wallowing.

Farkle’s smile brightens. He asks her if there’s anything else she wants to do while they’re out. She ponders on it, and then gets an idea.

Isadora: Maybe. But I think I need to get something first.

Intriguing. Farkle raises his eyebrows, Isadora not explaining further as she leads the way.

EXT. LOS ANGELES ZOO - DAY

Nerdy as it may be, Riley and Lucas are clearly having a good time at the zoo together. They’re laughing about something inane as they approach the giraffe pen, Riley brightening at the prospect of feeding them. She jogs up to the zookeeper who is handling the food, swapping a $5 for the chance to interact with the animals.

Lucas saunters up to join her, making an offhand comment about how if this is a date, then he probably should’ve paid for that. Not that he exactly has the spare funds to do so. Riley gives him a look, elbowing him playfully as they start walking towards the feeding spot.

Riley: The guy paying for everything is a dated convention anyway. Besides, like I’ve said before, I’m nothing if not --

Lucas: Unconventional. Believe me, I know.

Riley beams. She goes on to point out that their relationship in it of itself has been far from conventional, and she doesn’t see why that should change just because the technicalities of their dynamic do. As long as they maintain the foundation of what their relationship has always been based on -- friendship, mutual respect -- then the rest will fall into place.

Lucas nods along, but it’s clear he’s not as self-assured as Riley. She glances at him, growing more serious as she pulls them to the side of the giraffe pen so they can actually talk for a second. She explains that she’s been trying to find a way to say this basically since the last week of school, but there’s never been a good time or she keeps getting interrupted.

Lucas, deadpan: You’re not... already breaking up with me? Think that would be a world record.

It’s said like a joke, but Lucas doesn’t deliver it with his usual level of aloof confidence. Riley nips that notion in the bud, shaking her head emphatically and claiming it’s not about that.

Riley: Sort of the opposite, actually --

Lucas: The… opposite of breaking up?

Riley: Look, I just wanted to be clear -- I know so much has happened in the last year. All part of our unconventionality. [ a beat ] Everything with Farkle’s video and the things he said, I just… you know that’s not true, right? It never was. I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but I want you to know that I never saw you that way. You know that, right?

Riley holds eye contact, not letting him look away. She props her hand with the giraffe food on the pen fence, shuffling from foot to foot as she waits for his response.

The moment is heavy between them, Lucas taking a long moment to look at her. If she had asked him this question earlier, even just a couple months ago, his thought process would be different. His answer would be too.

But so much can change in such a short amount of time.

Lucas: I do. [ a beat ] Now.

That has to be good enough. Neither of them can change what happened in the past, even if they’d like to. All they can do is be present in the here and now, open to whatever the future might hold.

Gently, Lucas reaches out and takes her free hand. Riley glances down at their joined fingers, then gives him a soft smile. They drift a little closer together…

When they’re startled by a giraffe, dipping its head down between them to try and get the food from Riley’s hand. Both of them jump and Riley shrieks, before bursting into laughter. Lucas starts laughing too, catching her when she basically stumbles into him.

I don’t know what you were expecting, Riley. The giraffes are hungry! Once they reorient themselves, Riley reaches out to give the giraffe the food.

Lucas gets a text, checking it as Riley finishes interacting with their new zoo friend. She asks if everything is okay, and he states that Isadora texted him asking if they could talk when they got home. Nothing else.

Much to think about. As the soothing sound of ocean waves float in...

EXT. BEACH - DAY

One of Los Angeles’ many coastal beaches, although not one of the more popular crowded ones like Santa Monica. This one has fewer patrons dotting the shoreline, and seems to be a quieter, more local bunch. A secret spot for those who know the area well.

The kind of thing Valerie would know.

Isadora and Farkle walk along the water, the latter carrying both pairs of shoes while Isadora holds a special canister in her hands. It doesn’t take long to realize what it is, as Isadora explains to Farkle the reasons why her mother wanted to be cremated and her exact desires for where she wanted her ashes to be spread.

Isadora: Of course, she’s one of the people who literally wanted her ashes thrown into the ocean.

Farkle: I’d expect nothing less.

Even though she’s carrying out her wishes, it’s clear Isadora is still torn up about it. She avoids eye contact with Farkle as she tentatively expresses her hesitation. She can’t seem to get over the notion that like… yes, her mother is dead, and she’s devastated. But on the other hand, she’s angry at her, too. Because it was her own choices that caused all this, that took her away when they were so... close. Valerie made a stupid decision, and it took her away for good.

Farkle: I don’t know about that.

Isadora: Oh, okay. Thanks. Remind me never to open up to you again.

Farkle: No, I mean, I’m not saying what you’re feeling isn’t… valid, or whatever Eric would say. I just think it’s a bit coarse to put all of the blame on her for something she couldn’t exactly control.

Isadora: I don’t buy that.

Farkle: Would you have blamed me for what I did? Had it worked?

Isadora stares at him, stunned. Farkle is calm, though, genuinely posing the question.

Isadora: That’s… that’s different. You were sick.

Farkle: So was she.

Isadora holds his gaze as the sentiment sinks in. Then she looks away, embarrassed. Farkle doesn’t push it, granting her a change of subject.

Farkle: This whole thing has been kind of surreal, honestly. Seeing all of this grief, thinking that… I mean, just a couple months ago, it could’ve…

Been me. Isadora doesn’t push him, letting him finish the thought at his own pace. He never gets there, but he continues a different train of thought.

Farkle: I’m glad it’s not. I’m happy I’m still here, which I guess is progress. I just know it was difficult enough when it was an active choice I was making, because I thought it would make everything better. [ a beat ] Can’t imagine if it had been an accident.

Farkle’s made his point. Isadora is going to need time -- a lot of time -- to process everything she’s feeling about it, but his commentary did offer a fresh perspective.

The two of them stop in the middle of the beach, ocean running over their bare feet. Isadora opens the tiny urn, hesitating for a moment as she stares down at it.

Then she tilts it over, spreading her mother’s ashes into the ocean to be carried away by the waves. As she wished... even if she expected that moment to be much further off in the future.

Isadora closes the urn and stands up straighter, releasing a deep sigh. She and Farkle stand together and look out towards the horizon, the ocean seeming to stretch on forever.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - NIGHT

Isadora is starting to pack her things, Maya, Riley, and Zay’s laughter echoing from the other room. Lucas pokes his head in, asking what she wanted to talk to him about. Isadora nods, waving him in and pushing aside her things.

They situate on the bed, Isadora taking a moment to compose her thoughts. She explains that after thinking about it, and a weird -- but enjoyable -- day, she’s decided she wants to go to her mom’s estate tomorrow. It’s the last day she’ll be able to, and although she isn’t sure she’ll like what she finds, she feels like she owes it to Valerie.

Lucas, protectively: You don’t owe her anything. I’m not saying --

Isadora: I get it. I get what you mean. And you’re right, I agree. But it’s not just about that. [ with a sigh ] I think I owe it to myself. Because if I don’t go and see this through, then I am going to spend the rest of my life wondering about it. It’s like… the ultimate ghosting, and you know what that does to me.

Lucas: Yeah.

Isadora: So I’m going to do it. I’ll go, I’ll take a look, and then it’ll be done. We can all move on.

Easier said than done, but point made. Isadora inhales another deep breath, meeting his eyes.

Isadora: Just thought it might be better if you were there with me.

Lucas contemplates. He’s never liked Valerie, and complicated feelings aside in current circumstances, that will likely never change.

But he loves Isadora. She’s his family, and they’ve always been in each other’s corners. If she can endure his epic spin out from the last year, then he can certainly spare an afternoon to give her support on what will probably be one of the most difficult things she ever does.

After a moment, he nods. Isadora offers a half a smile, Lucas returning it.

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - POOL SIDE - DAY

On their last full day, the performers are spending it enjoying the California weather and sunshine. Maya and Zay are soaking up the sun, Maya’s sunglasses on and exuding full diva ambience. Farkle sits by the pool while Riley actually enjoys the water, the group of them chatting. Farkle says something snarky and Riley splashes water at him, causing him to get up and retreat back towards his stuff.

When he approaches his chair, he discovers a voicemail on his phone. His expression shifts in an instant, snatching his phone off the chair.

Farkle: Be right back.

Maya: Where are you going?

Farkle: Gotta… I have to make a call.

Zay: Who the hell is calling you?

Fair question, Zay. Farkle doesn’t respond, jogging towards the hotel. Riley watches him go, raising her eyebrows at the other two. Maya shrugs, flipping her sunglasses back on.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - HALL - DAY

Farkle ducks inside, narrowly avoiding ramming into a posh couple of tourists. He lifts the phone to his ear, playing the voicemail that is in fact from Turner regarding his audition.

And… they want him to join their production. The creative team was quite impressed with his talent, and if Farkle thinks he wants a career in performing, this might be the perfect start. Turner gives him details about how the production will rehearse the summer and then run through the fall -- right through senior year.

If Farkle is interested, he should give him a call and they’ll meet up to discuss next steps. Farkle is stunned, frozen as the voicemail ends and he’s suddenly faced with a huge decision.

Stay with his friends (which he just got back) and finish his time at AAA, or follow the dream?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Sober” as performed by Demi Lovato || Performed by Valerie De La Cruz (vocals only)

EXT. VALERIE’S ESTATE - NIGHT

The gentle piano guides us into the evening at Valerie’s Hollywood mansion. Theresa unlocks the door for Isadora, Eric and Lucas, but doesn’t go inside herself.

INT. VALERIE’S ESTATE - DAY

As Valerie’s heart wrenching vocals kick in, we see her home as she left it -- glamorous in every sense of the word, but also lived in. Her things are dotted around, left waiting to be used again.

Call me when it’s over ‘Cause I’m dying inside

INT. VALERIE’S ESTATE - STUDY - NIGHT

Isadora takes shaky breaths, Eric and Lucas closeby for emotional support should she need it. She goes into Valerie’s office space, where a marble desk is covered in legal documents relating to Valerie’s move to New York and gaining custody of Isadora. Isadora shifts through the papers, tears welling in her eyes.

Sometimes I just wanna cave And I don’t wanna fight I try and I try and I try and I try Just hold me, I’m lonely

Lucas checks she’s okay. She nods, moving onto another room.

INT. VALERIE’S ESTATE - VALERIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora hesitates before entering. It’s as luxurious as you would expect. The things that stick out to Isadora, though, are the simple, nostalgic ones. A dusty china doll on a shelf with cracks over her face; a baby blanket is placed across an armchair, “Isadora” delicately stitched onto it.

Isadora picks up the blanket and feels the soft texture, holding it close. The tears are falling now, no longer hidden behind iron-clad walls.

I’m sorry to my baby girl For the wounds I left so deep For all the empty promises I couldn’t keep

A frame holding a wrinkled photograph sits on a bedside table. Isadora picks it up -- Valerie in her 20s, dressed simply and standing in a small apartment. In her arms is a baby who she smiles down at with adoration in her eyes.

Unable to look any longer, Isadora puts it down and turns to go to Lucas. He’s already right behind her.

We’ve been down this road before I’m so sorry, I’m not sober anymore

She collapses into his arms, hugging him tighter than she ever has before. Sobs wrack through her, all of the feelings she’s numbed herself to finally escaping. We don’t hear her cries, but she’s practically screaming with grief. She crouches down, Lucas going with her to keep his arms wrapped around her. In the doorway, Eric has to turn away, the sight of Isadora completely breaking down too much to bear.

I promise I’ll get help It wasn’t my intention I’m sorry to myself...

EXT. LOS ANGELES COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Turner is seated at an outdoor table, finishing up a coffee. He raises his gaze when Farkle approaches from down the street, obviously coming to discuss the casting opportunity. Farkle thanks him for coming to meet with him, sliding into the chair across from him. Turner appreciates his professionalism in setting the meeting.

Their pleasant discussion doesn’t last long, though, because Farkle isn’t there to say what Turner wants to hear. Although he’s honored by the offer and can’t imagine a better opportunity… Farkle can’t accept the offer. Not right now.

Turner doesn’t hide his disappointment, but he respects the choice. He inquires as to why Farkle made the decision, which causes him to pause. After a moment, Farkle explains that while he’s always been consumed with chasing the dream, he’s learned pretty recently that there’s a lot more to it than that. It can’t just be about the dream -- there has to be more, otherwise, it’s empty. And there’s a lot back home that he needs to cultivate before he goes leaping into the great unknown. Not to mention...

Farkle: I was raised by a businessman, through and through. My father isn’t perfect, and he taught me some habits I’m probably better off without. But not all of them are without merit. One of the most important would be that when you commit to something, you see it through to the end. Right now… [ thinking about home ] I’ve got some things I need to see through to the end. After that, who knows, but for now… I need to stay right where I am.

Fair enough. Turner concedes, stating that he does admire his maturity for his age.

Farkle: Trust me, it’s relatively new.

Either way, Turner believes he has talent. Depending on where he ends up once he’s done “seeing things through,” he hopes he’ll consider reaching out to catch up. Turner extends a business card in his direction.

Turner: If you find yourself back out in LA, be sure to give me a call.

Farkle accepts the card, looking at it. Representing all of the opportunities that might await him in the future… when the time comes.

Eric, pre-lap: I have no idea how to handle this.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM C - DAY

Jack is in the midst of finishing packing for their return flight that evening. Eric is pacing, a bundle of nerves now that the adrenaline of getting Isadora through the trip is waning. He wrings his hands.

Eric: I promised Valerie that I would take care of Isa, and I want to. I know I need to. She needs the safety net, but… what if I’m not cut out for it?

Jack: Eric --

Eric: They don’t give you training for this sort of thing. This isn’t something you can study. I’ve never been a parent. What if I’m not -- what if I’m not what she needs?

Jack steps away from his packing, coming to join Eric and stopping his pacing. He takes his shoulders to halt him, waiting for him to meet his eyes.

Jack: Eric. Take a breath.

Eric does as he’s told. Jack waits a moment, searching for the words to make this better. They aren’t easy to find.

Jack: You’re right, there’s no playbook for this sort of thing. You’re going to have to figure it out as you go, so good thing you’re great at improv. [ off Eric’s nervous laugh ] But there is no one better suited for this challenge than you. Regardless of what happens, Isadora is going to know you have her back. That she’s not alone.

Eric nods, trying to accept the words as truth. Jack steps closer, shifting one of his hands to the back of Eric’s neck. That kind of hold men do when they’re sharing intimacy, but can’t do it like normal people.

Jack: Neither are you. Like you said, we’re going to figure it out together. You’re not going to face it alone.

Eric locks eyes with Jack, really taking him in. They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment.

Then Eric sighs, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Jack’s. The two stay close together, grounding to one another. Preparing for what happens next, distinctly together.

As the melodious hum of our final performance floats in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Endless Night” as performed by The Lion King Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. AAA Juniors)

EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAY

Shots of the cinematic Los Angeles, in the midst of early morning sunrise.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM A - DAY

For the first time all episode, Isadora takes the leading vocals on this grief-stricken soliloquy. She starts it alone in her hotel room, looking out the window towards the early morning scape of Beverly Hills. The lyrics aptly highlight the struggle she’s feeling to come to terms with Valerie’s absence, how isolating her loss can make the world feel.

You promised you'd be there whenever I needed you Whenever I call your name you're not anywhere…

Isadora finishes the second chorus, coming to look at herself in the mirror and lingering on her star necklace.

I'm trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice One word, just a word will do to end this nightmare…

But the truth is she’s not alone. Far from it. Riley appears in the reflection and comes to join her, gently touching her elbow as the song begins it’s tonal shift about halfway through. Isadora returns half a smile, leading the way towards the other room.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL - ROOM B - DAY

The rest of the crew is waiting there, dressed for a journey. Their bags are stacked in the corner, all packed up to go. But they’re not heading to the airport quite yet -- there’s one more thing they want to do.

Isadora passes them all and steps out the door first, Riley and Lucas following after her. The other three follow suit, Maya being the last one out as she closes the door.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD SIGN HIKE - DAY

Maya is the first one leading the march as the six of them do the coveted Hollywood sign hiking trail, taking advantage of the early morning cool to take in the view of Los Angeles one last time. We watch them weave their way through the paths and climb around the trail as the music slowly builds in catharsis. Repeating the hopeful psychology that has gotten them through the season, same as when Maya sang “Winter can’t hold back the spring, no matter how dark it may seem” back in 208.

I know that the night must end and that the sun will rise, I know that the clouds must clear and that the sun will shine.

Isadora stays on the lead vocal, growing more emotional as the music swells and they get closer and closer to the top of their uphill climb. Her riffs are impressive, demonstrating how far she’s come as a performer in the last two seasons.

And how far the six of them have come interpersonally cannot be understated. They’re helping one another as they make the strenuous trek, offering hands as they climb over roots and up rock sides. Farkle almost stumbles and Zay manages to stabilize him, patting his shoulder once he’s upright again. There’s no bickering, no sharp jabs, a far cry from 206 -- for now, they’re a team, finishing their final ascent out of the darkness of this year.

Right up to the highest point on the hike.

The sun will rise…

The six of them take in the breathtaking sight of Los Angeles in the midst of the sunrise, full of hope and promise and energy just about to come alive for another day. They inhale the fresh air, the new day, the entire future seemingly laid out before them. Facing whatever happens next, but not being so afraid of the change as they once were.

The six of them silhouetted against the rising sun is the last shot we see, fading to black.

END OF SEASON.

#213 #episodes #S2 #i love them. i love you all. thank you thank you thank you #until S3...

18 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 6 years ago

Photo

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Callbacks” [ 2.01 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (daphnegolshiri) || S2 Tag || Official Page

THE SHOW MUST GO ON – A new year at AAA promises new troubles on top of the chaos left behind from the last. Angela’s replacement meets the junior class. While some students aim to embrace the change, others may never make it back through the doors.

55 Minutes (12.5K+ words) || No warning apply.

[ ← The World Will Never Be The Same ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Second Choice → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S ROOM - DAY

We’re close on a phone, laying on the surface of a vanity dresser. The screen lights up, displaying a notification from Instagram. The moment does give us a bit of AAAC-induced PTSD, but it’s innocuous -- “wholemayahartedly liked your photo.”

Underneath the notification, a reminder sits waiting. “Welcome back to AAA.”

As the clock hits 7:00AM, an alarm begins to go off, but the owner is already awake. A hand reaches out to quickly swipe away the alarm, and ZAY BABINEAUX returns to our screens once again. He’s already geared up for the day, looking fresh and cool as ever.

He glances at himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair and rolling his shoulders before letting out a sigh. Welcome back, indeed. As jaunty, cool beats float in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “New Shoes” as performed by Paolo Nutini || Performed by Zay Babineaux

As Zay gears up to head out for the day, he sings and freestyles to this easy-going tune. After so long without his impressive dance moves, it sure is good to see them again.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

Zay continues his journey out the door, sliding down the banister and landing with a flourish. He breezes through the house, grabs some fruit from the counter. He greets his parents, OMAR BABINEAUX with a nod and DONNA BABINEAUX with a kiss on the cheek.

He makes his way out the front door…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And emerges from the subway, continuing his stylings down the streets of Manhattan. He performs with confidence, comfort, the visuals a far cry from his more somber explorations of the city in 1.06.

Finally, he approaches the familiar institution of AAA.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay travels through the halls as he descends into the second verse, slowing down a bit as he takes stock of the setting in the new year. Despite all that’s happened here, it looks about the same as it did last year. He nods to friends as he passes, carrying a new sense of power as the reigning recipient of the Kossal Summer Program.

More familiar faces begin to join in on the choreography through the hallway -- NIGEL CHEY, YINDRA AMINO, HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ. Zay dances with each of them, moving us through to the bridge…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay is showing off his freestylings on the AAA stage, suddenly alone again. The spotlight is on him and the number is clearly a performance, but it’s unclear for whom and why. Either way, he shines as he completes the routine, running through the final chorus with energy and obvious talent.

When he finishes, breathless and squinting into the lights, there are no applause. No standing ovation. Just quiet, save for the quiet scribbling of pens on paper. It’s clear there’s a panel of some kind seated in the back of the auditorium, but no other information.

Then, a familiar voice through the darkness:

Eric: Thank you, Zay. We’ll let you know.

Zay exhales, offering a tight smile and nodding a thank you. As he turns to exit the stage, his confident exterior falters somewhat.

What will they let him know? Who will let him know it? What the knick knack patty whack is going on, chief?

Another year, another jampacked adventure. Welcome back to Adams, indeed.

Cue opening titles.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Through the scope of an A/V club camera, DAVE WILLIAMS eagerly welcomes back the junior class as he and NICK YOGI, behind the camera, kick off the back-to-school cheer. Standing outside the doors to the black box theater, Dave waits for a cue from Yogi.

Dave: Is it -- are we ready? Are you rolling?

Yogi: It’s rolling.

Dave: There’s no like -- shouldn’t there be a light? Blinking or something?

Yogi: Just trust me, it’s rolling.

Dave: You know I trust you with my life.

Yogi: And me, you. It’s David and Goliath, baby.

Dave: It’s David and Goliath! Welcome back, AAA thotties, to the thunderdome.

Yogi explains that he and Dave are endeavoring to reinstate the A/V club to its former glory, and part of this task involves getting the scoop before anyone else. So they’ll be going around and catching up with their classmates after the disastrous way that last year wrapped up, offering what they refer to as “Dogi Exclusives.”

The whole sequence is a bit jarring considering Yogi is filming and Dave is a whole foot taller than him, but they make it work. And boy, do they certainly have some exclusives.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shining Star” as performed by Jump5 || Instrumental

As the quick-paced montage kicks off, Dave and Yogi pursue Zay first. They follow him as he parades through the halls with his new level of confidence. He claims that his summer break was excellent, completely fulfilling in every possible way.

Although Dogi want to dig deeper on that, their questioning is interrupted by the trio of them running into MAYA HART. She looks even more polished than last year, radiating diva and her envy-worthy blonde locks as shiny and voluminous as ever. She and Zay exchange a quick, snappy handshake, indicating they’ve become better friends in the time we’ve spent away.

The two of them state that this year is going to be unlike any other, and all the bullshit from last year is completely irrelevant.

Dave: And all the stuff from the AAAC --

Maya: Old news.

Zay: The drama? The fakeness?

Maya: Farkle Minkus?

Zay: Gone. Caput.

Dave: What about the fact that you’re on scholarship --

Maya: Here’s what you need to focus on, Davis. Nothing that parasitic pinnacle of a page had to say means anything. And we’d all be wise to forget about it, because there are far more interesting things for us to be focused on this year.

When Dave and Yogi ask for elaboration, all that Maya will say is that there may very well be a new diva rising through the ranks in the junior class. Not above her or Zayby, of course, but someone with a lot of starpower is going to make Minkus more irrelevant than he already is.

An interesting promise…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the auditorium, Dave attempts to interview RILEY MATTHEWS. She’s more soft-spoken and reserved than last year, obviously hesitant as she talks with them. All that growing from the previous year, and for what…

She glances over her shoulder towards the technician’s booth as Dave asks her another question, growing pensive and distracted.

Dave: Riley. Riley. Superklutz. Riley.

Riley: [ blinking out of it ] Sorry, um, what was the question?

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Dave convenes with his techie pals ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO, both looking fresh and friendly upon their return from summer. As he attempts to talk with them about how they spent their break, Asher keeps having to interrupt Dylan to keep him from saying things it seems he’s not supposed to mention.

Dave: So how did you spend your summer?

Asher: Oh, nothing much. Went to the museums a couple times.

Dylan: Asher’s underselling. Summer was a hoot. We did so much wild stuff, man. [ Laughing. ] One day we met Lucas at grand central market and he made up this game where we --

Asher: Really. Nothing much at all.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Across the hall, Dave attempts to interview CHARLIE GARDNER in front of his locker. Although he seems to be doing a fair amount of damage control, for what it’s worth his outward appearance seems more relaxed than sophomore year.

He’s softened his attire to less straight-laced and more casual for his standards -- nice sweaters and plain tees. His hair has grown out over the summer, trimmed for back-to-school yet still more wild and free than before.

Exterior mellow aside, as he talks to Dave and Yogi he appears a bit shifty. He comes off like a politician rather than a peer, rehearsed and vague. Expert at avoiding confrontation.

Charlie: I’ve done a lot of self-reflection this summer, and I realize that sending those posts was the wrong decision. Those were the actions of someone who I do not wish to be, so I’m trying to do better and make up for those mistakes.

Dave: But why did you do it?

Charlie: I think what’s more important is how we move forward.

Charlie offers a thin smile. Dave gives the camera a look.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Back with Asher and Dylan. Yogi poses a new question.

Yogi: Speaking of Lucas, no one has seen him this morning for an illustrious comeback. Any idea where he is?

Dylan: [ with a snort ] Do we have any idea where he is? Our best friend --

Asher: [ hurriedly ] Nope, haven’t seen him.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Dave has to jog to keep up with the power walk of ISADORA DE LA CRUZ. She looks as fierce as ever, wearing her usual attire of ripped jeans (ripped not for fashion’s sake, but because they’ve been completely worn through) and a dark tee shirt sporting a reference to a film of some sort. The look is completed of course with Converse, although we note that she’s wearing a new pair of yellow high tops rather than her usual old black pair. Presumably a gift from someone (mayhaps a starlet mother?), since Isa isn’t inclined to spend her money on clothes.

Yogi asks if she’s worked on any short films over the summer, and she retorts that she actually spent more time focusing on her performance chops for this year. This is a bombshell revelation -- Isadora De La Cruz is going to take the stage! -- and Dave and Yogi are shook.

Dave: Breaking news!

Yogi: You heard it from Dogi FIRST!

Isadora doesn’t seem interested in humoring them further. Dave shouts one more question after her as she marches away, lucky that she turns around to gift them a snarky answer.

Dave: So where’s Lucas?

Isadora: Do I look like his keeper? Hell if I know.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jumping back to Riley, Yogi asks Riley what she’s most excited about for the new year. She takes a long pause, evidently at a total loss for how to answer. She finally manages to stammer out a vague sentiment.

Riley: I’m mostly looking forward to everyone… coming back together. And um, renewed camaraderie.

Yogi: [ with a laugh ] Yeah, right.

Riley doesn’t seem thrilled with his dismissive comment.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Back to Dylan and Asher. They’ve gotten distracted, Asher focusing on nitpicking Dylan’s jacket collar while Dylan attempts to divide his attention between his boyfriend and the question at hand.

Yogi: So with Alvin out of commission, how are the two remaining chipmunks functioning then?

Dave: Yeah, how are things going for you two?

Dylan, enthusiastically: [ snapping to attention ] Oh, are you kidding? Things are great. We’ve had the best summer.

Asher, agreeably: Not wrong.

Dave: [ to the camera ] Dogi can confirm: “Dasher” are alive and well.

Dylan: We’re thriving, good sir. I can tell you, as a kissing expert --

Asher: Oh boy.

Dylan: Never been better. In fact, this summer we made some major strides --

Asher: [ covering Dylan’s mouth, dragging him away ] OKAY so we really have to go now, nice chatting with you Dave --

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Back outside the black box theater, Dave summarizes their video and prepares to wrap it up.

Dave: So as you can see, lots of tides shifting here in the bonkers halls of Triple A. Whether or not good ol’ Principal Cracker Jack and our faculty fave Mister E will be able to pull this clusterfuck back together remains to be seen.

Yogi: And whether Mister Shawn will be able to handle a new first-in-command.

Dave: Oh, yes, we are all eagerly awaiting to see which poor soul is going to attempt to fill the late and great Miss Moore’s large and insanely hot shoes.

Yogi: Press F to pay respects.

Dave, solemnly: F.

Which poor soul indeed? It will take a brave, ambitious warrior to tackle the monster that is the junior A class…

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

And that warrior takes a human form in HARPER BURGESS (26). She’s petite and baby-faced, an eager smile on her face as she finishes signing last minute paperwork for her employment. But don’t let her size be deceiving -- underneath the leather jacket and driven sparkle in her eyes is the fiery personality of a former AAA alumna returning to the homestead after being forged to steel in the real world.

She passes the finished papers across the desk to JACK HUNTER, who takes them happily. Given how run ragged he appeared at the end of last season, it is a relief to see him seemingly well and back on top of things. Polished as usual, in any case.

Jack congratulates Harper and welcomes her to the AAA team, both of them rising as he shakes her hand. He reiterates a fair warning that the junior class is no easy group, but Harper expresses optimism that she can handle it. After all, she was once a student just like them.

Harper: I survived my four years at this school fighting for my scrap of the spotlight, Jack. I think if I can do that, then I can survive just about anything.

Jack: Well, believe me when I say this crop of students isn’t quite like any other.

Still, he admires her optimism, and sends her off with the assurance that he also believes she will do an excellent job. As she heads out she bumps into ERIC MATTHEWS, who gives her a playful salute.

Eric: Welcome to the force, soldier.

Harper awkwardly returns the salute, trying her best to adjust to this new team of oddballs as efficiently as possible. Eric waits until she departs to shift his focus, questioning if Jack still wants to go over their game plan for the first week. He figures it would be good to double check that they’re both on the same page.

Jack enthusiastically agrees, gesturing Eric in and grabbing his coffee thermos. As Eric settles in the chair opposite his desk, we get the sense that the two administrators have done a lot of collaborating over the summer. They demonstrate a comfortable new rapport, definitely closer to being on the same wavelength than last year.

It’s also clear, for what it’s worth, that Eric is enjoying their dual efforts. He listens intently as Jack speaks, a light smile on his face as he flips through his notes. Jack paces the floor, walking through their thought process with zeal.

Jack: All of the students enrolled here are talented, there’s no doubt about that. Even the junior class specifically, I’ll say, has some of the brightest students I think we’ve had at Adams. They are not short of starpower.

Eric: Certainly not.

Jack: But the behavior we’ve witnessed over the last couple of years is unacceptable, and it reached a fever pitch in May. There’s no excuse for that sort of culture, and they all had their hand to play in it. We’re not letting it slide from here on out.

Eric: No, sir, we are not.

Jack: The fact of the matter is, as you and I have had to come to Jesus over --

Eric: Please, remind me for the hundredth time --

Jack: -- talent isn’t everything. Success requires hard work. Compassion. Integrity. These are the values we are going to uphold at Adams, and anyone who deems themselves above it all will find themselves facing a swift kick of reality. Mister Livingston was the first, and he doesn’t have to be the last.

Jack and Eric go on to discuss the logistics of their back-to-school shake-up, which contextualizes Zay’s solo from earlier (a flashforward, we now realize) -- they will be requiring every junior to “reaudition” over the course of the week. This is in terms of their performance, but also their attitudes and behavior.

Jack: They earned their places at this school, I firmly believe that. But they have to put the work in to prove they still deserve it. Because there are dozens of equally talented young dreamers out there with just as much ambition as them who would kill to have their place in this class. They need to remember that.

Eric, although disappointed with how things have ended up, nods in agreement. The mere shake-up of the reaudition should be a subtle but important wake up call.

Jack takes a sip of his coffee, glancing down at the new hire paperwork on his desk. So many changes already in effect.

Jack: If they want to see the success of their futures realized, then they better show up.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Isadora makes her way through the empty auditorium, early before class. She jogs up the stairs to the technician’s booth.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Isadora cautiously pokes her head in, listening for any signs of life. She wanders further in, heading to the center of the cramped space and getting a good look around.

It’s empty. Untouched. The panel by the electrical cabinet is secure and in place, not acting as a living space by any means. It feels abandoned.

It feels wrong.

With an unsurprised sigh, Isadora heads back out before first bell.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The performing students have congregated in the black box classroom, chattering amongst themselves. Isadora hesitantly peers through the doors, cautious to step into her first official day as a performing arts student.

As she stands in the doorway, a ripple of reaction seems to go through the assembled class. Suddenly, a techie in their midst? Isadora clearly doesn’t know where to go. There’s a moment where she locks eyes with Riley sitting by Zay, but the way Isadora quickly averts her gaze from Riley’s awkward smile indicates that things aren’t all well and good in that camp.

Instead, another unlikely ally throws her a life preserver. Maya perks up when she spots her, eagerly waving her over to join her, Darby, and Yindra.

Maya: Izzy. Izzy, over here!

Isadora is grateful for the save, rushing over and sliding into the seat behind her. Maya whips around to give her a playful swat and eyebrow wiggle, just as Harper arrives and sends the room into uncertain silence.

There’s a long beat of trepidation, Harper gazing at her new classroom and the throng of her new students staring back at her. Taking a deep breath, she marches into the room with authority and greets them all, introducing herself as their new performance coach. She explains that she was once a student just like them, although she admittedly dabbled a bit more in the technical arts than she thinks most of them have these days.

Sarah: And you came back to teach us? Couldn’t catch a break, huh?

A few snickers through the room throw Harper off her game. She cheekily acknowledges Sarah’s comment, stating that she had her run in the backstages of Broadway, but she thought coming back here when the position miraculously opened up felt like a can’t-miss opportunity.

Still, the introduction has been sabotaged and the rest of her opening is on shaky ground. Many of her little asides don’t garner any favor, and the junior class is already proving to be a tough room. When Charlie, seated with Clarissa and Haley although somewhat removed, throws her a few words of encouragement it is met with a subtly coughed “teacher’s pet.”

Harper changes tact, choosing to redirect focus to attendance. She makes her way through the list until she hits a snag on Farkle, silence heavy in the room after she states his name. She repeats it, uncertainly given its odd status, but it’s clear he’s a no-show. Absent.

Ditching on the very first day. Maya and Zay exchange a look, obviously unimpressed.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

At the luxurious Minkus suite, things admittedly feel somewhat muted. Most of the Minki children and Stuart are gone for school and work, only JENNIFER MINKUS present. She’s on the phone, pacing as she recounts to Stuart that Farkle has opted to stay home from school.

It’s evident she’s concerned, claiming that he’s been under the weather for “at least a month now.” She’s wondering if perhaps they should call the family doctor.

Jennifer: He could be iron deficient. Or anemic, you know how that runs in my family. And the amount of medications I take alone per day just to keep this body up and running in working order, maybe we should have him checked out for similar things...

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - DAY

Despite the morning hour, the room is dark when Jennifer pokes her head in to check on her son. The curtains are drawn, and the space itself feels stagnant. Somewhere in the mess of blankets on the bed is Farkle, barely visible in the dark.

Jennifer informs him gently that she called him in, but it would be a shame if he were to fully miss out on his first day back for junior year. Maybe later, depending on how he’s feeling, he can go in for the second half of the school day. Farkle doesn’t seem enthused, plaintively stating that he would like to keep resting.

It’s clear that this answer concerns Jennifer, but she gives him space as requested. It’s out of sorts for him to be so unmoved about missing time at AAA, but then, she has absolutely no idea what unfolded at the end of last year.

She closes the door, allowing him to rest and sheltering him back in the dark.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the first performance class of the semester, the entirely of the junior A class reunites and watches as SHAWN HUNTER and Harper take the stage together. It’s pointed from the get-go that they have no idea how to act around one another or work effectively in their new partnership, Harper looking for clues from Shawn while he’s attempting to just pretend everything is the same. In this case, that means proceeding as if she’s hardly there.

He takes the reins in dropping the new year bombshell on them, which is that they will be required over the course of the first week back to reaudition for their spot at AAA. Given how much of a mess the end of last year was, it was determined that a procedure was necessary to ensure that each of them are still eligible in their attendance.

Naturally, the students are not pleased about this announcement. The performers immediately start complaining about how unfair it is, while the techies seem particularly spooked by the notion considering they’re not performers. They’re not “audition” material.

Harper speaks up, hoping to alleviate some of the stress.

Harper: Well, actually, that’s one thing we’re hoping to work on this year. We’d love to see more engagement with the technical aspects from our performing students, as well as more performance participation from the technicians. That way, all of us will have a well-rounded understanding and appreciation for all angles of education at Adams.

A wonderful sentiment, but not what they want to hear right now. The uproar grows worse, Harper obviously stunned by the theatrics of this collective group. Turns out Jack was not kidding around about the junior class.

Shawn brings them back to Earth, assuring the techies that their auditions do not necessarily need to be performance-based. All they need to do in some fashion is demonstrate their skillset and why they deserve their spot at AAA. Just like when they applied the first time.

Part of this, as mentioned before, is reflected just in the act of showing up ready to learn. Farkle’s absence is pointed, as is Lucas’s. Shawn doesn’t look pleased as he scans the center section and finds no sign of his head technician.

Harper manages to interject over Shawn again, also explaining that they will be doing performance drills throughout the week to see what shape all of them are in after summer break. It’s important that they’re able to keep up to keep their spot. Isadora seems particularly intimidated by this information.

As they split for their first breakout groups of the year, Riley catches up to Isadora. She attempts to have a conversation with her and reassure her that she’ll be fine at drills, but Isadora ignores her. Somewhat isolated, Riley takes the hit and heads in the other direction.

Shawn pulls Dylan and Asher aside, asking them where the hell Lucas is. They unconvincingly claim that they have no idea. Shawn posits that this is a real shame, considering a) if Lucas doesn’t show up this week and participate in the stupid reaudition scheme he might very well be kicked out, and b) with Isadora having jumped ship they need a strong technician present to steer the ship with the rest of them.

Asher: Well, Mister Shawn, all due respect, but I think we deserve a little more credit --

Shawn: Oh, yeah? You wanna take charge, Garcia?

Asher: Absolutely not. Hopefully Lucas will get the message.

Shawn, flatly: Yeah. Hopefully.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Per tradition, Riley meets up with Eric for lunch given that it’s the first day. After settling in, she asks him what he thinks about the whole reaudition process. He claims it was the only solution he and Jack could come up with.

Eric: It’s only meant to be a reminder that your acceptance here is conditional. The opportunities all of you are benefitting from and the exposure to fellow talents is contingent upon your willingness to help foster a creative, collaborative community.

[ Riley nods along. That sounds too good to be true, at this point. ]

Eric: You all have all the talent in the world, you know I believe it. But there have to be lines, there have to be consequences for our actions. If you push it too far, then we’re going to push back.

Speaking of the negative climate, Eric asks Riley how she’s handling the less-than-stellar current atmosphere between the students. Is she feeling okay? She claims it’s fine -- after all, it’s nothing she couldn’t handle last year.

Eric points out that this is quite a bit different than the situation she entered before, but Riley doesn’t seem ready to confront that reality. She’s opting for denial, choosing to believe that this is merely another gap between her peers that she can bridge.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora is meeting with Jack, finalizing the details to change her core focus from film studies to a dual focus in film and vocal performance.

Jack asks her to confirm that she’s certain about this change. Although there is a moment of hesitation, she does assure him that she’s serious about it. He doesn’t seem displeased, reminding her that all of this is of course contingent upon her reaudition but also stating that he’s proud of her for deciding to try something out of her comfort zone. Especially given her natural talent.

As she starts to head out, Jack ventures another query.

Jack: Have you -- do you have any idea what the deal is with Mister Friar? Is he planning on coming back to school?

[ The question is a bit sarcastic, but the genuine concern behind it is loud and clear. ]

Isadora: [ with an uncertain shrug ] Believe me, Principal Hunter. If Lucas were here, I think we’d both know pretty quickly.

Jack nods acquiescence, dismissing her. After she’s gone, he sighs, reaching forward to pick up his phone and make a call.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley is eating dinner with CORY MATTHEWS, the only two present. As we learn through the sparse conversation, Auggie is out with Topanga, demonstrating how the separation is impacting the familial dynamic.

Cory can tell that the first day back did not go swimmingly. He attempts to get Riley to talk about it, but she shrugs off the concern. He goes on to explain that when he was in high school he had tiffs with his friends too -- Shawn, even! -- but he never gave up on them. So if she feels like people are slipping away from her, then she should do everything in her power to close the distance. She’s always been impressive at that, after all.

Although Riley is down, she chews on the sentiment. Adding fuel to her problem-solving fire.

INT. MINKUS HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Jennifer hits the play button on the voicemail machine as she’s preparing for dinner, listening as Jack’s message comes through on the speaker.

Jack: I hope all things are well. I’m calling in regards to Farkle’s absence today. While we all wish him better health and a quick recovery, due to the circumstances surrounding the junior class and our newly implemented special policies, it is imperative that he return to school within the week to maintain his enrollment.

In the midst of the recording, a door in the hall creaks open. Timidly, FARKLE MINKUS emerges from the dark and pads into the room, catching the end of the message as Jack wishes them well again.

To be frank, he’s looked better. He’s slighter than when we last saw him, dressed rather slovenly in his large sweater and sweats. The perpetual bedhead doesn’t help, especially when paired with the glazed, unmoved expression on his face. Whether or not he’s actually ill, he sure looks the part.

He approaches the countertop as Jennifer pauses the message machine, examining him. She makes playful commentary about how he’s finally risen from the dead, explaining that dinner will be ready soon. They’re planning on calling Lila at university as a family afterwards to see how she’s settling in, so she’s happy he’s up and moving.

Farkle: Will dad be here?

Jennifer: … well, you know how busy your father is. He may dial in, but --

Farkle: So it’s not really as a family, is it?

Jennifer gives him a disappointed look, then dodges the question as she changes the subject. She states that she hopes he’ll be better for school tomorrow. It would be horrible for this illness to affect his time at AAA. He, personally, doesn’t seem all that concerned.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is on the phone, blocking out her foster siblings as she attempts to talk to Maya. The latter is giving her reassurance, reminding her that they went over her audition a hundred times and she’s going to kill it. No sweat. When Isadora asks what she’s planning to do for her audition, Maya plays coy and says it’s a surprise. Only time will tell, won’t it?

After they hang up, CATHERINA GONZALEZ enters and makes a comment about it’s nice to be let back into her own room. Isadora sneers at her sass, Catherina asking who the hell she was even talking to.

Catherina: It didn’t sound like Lucas.

Isadora: I have other friends, you know.

Catherina: [ with a scoff ] Since when?

Isadora opts to go back to tuning Catherina out, focusing on a different conversation. It’s a text conversation with her mother, Valerie De La Cruz. The last message that Isadora sent is an audio message, and from the message Valerie sent in reply it must be a recording of her audition.

Valerie expresses high praise, lauding how great she sounds and how her training is already shining through. She assures her that she’s going to ace this “audition” -- just don’t forget to breathe! Use diaphragm breaths! Isadora absorbs the sentiment again, taking it to heart.

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya is crashed in her loft bed, having just hung up with Isadora. She hangs on her phone, scrolling through her other conversations. She hesitates when she sees Farkle, the last time they texted being as far back as summer. It wasn’t a very long or good conversation, and they’ve been silent since.

But now, she breaks the stalemate. She types a new message with a scowl on her face, obviously not pleased with his disappearance.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle gets the message just as he’s climbing back into bed, about to go back to sleep. The message is simple, straight-forward, and gets the message across: “You really blew everything up, and now you won’t even come back to face it? Coward.”

As he reads, some of that natural manic spark we’re so familiar with seems to return to Farkle’s eyes. He may be a mess, and he may not be up for a scrap, but he most certainly is not going to get talked down to by Maya Penelope Hart.

He throws the blankets off of him, getting to his feet with renewed purpose.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle isn’t the only one on the warpath. Riley is in hot pursuit of the techies, trying to get them to talk to her so she can start piecing together a way to reconnect with them. But all of them are freezing her out, albeit some more effectively than others.

JADE BEAMON is horrible at avoiding her, and she can’t even make eye contact as she jogs away from her. JEFF MONROE makes up an excuse, stating if he doesn’t set up the lighting booth, well, who will? NATE MARTINEZ lies and claims he’s running late for class, even though Riley points out that they have fifteen minutes until first bell.

Nate: Late to be early. I like to be punctual. Punctually punctual. Okay, see you later.

When she finally reaches Dave, he is by far the worst at subtlety.

Riley: Could you at least explain why you’re all running from me?

Dave: We’re not running.

Riley: Dave, we’re literally speedwalking like soccer moms right now. What is going on?

Dave: I can’t say.

Riley: Sure you can. We can talk about whatever it is --

Dave: No, Lucas and Isadora said we’re not supposed to talk to you. That’s the whole point. And now I’m fucking it up -- come on, Dave!

He marches onward, leaving Riley even more confused and more than a little stung. Ouch. But she’s not going to give up that easily.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Shawn is pacing, lamenting how doesn’t know how he’s going to handle this new teaching arrangement. He and Harper are not on the same page, and he has no idea how to communicate with her. She doesn’t know how things work around here. It’s all a mess. It’s not going to work.

Eric: It’s been one day, Shawn.

Still, Shawn claims he cannot get through these drills and auditions without someone he knows he can rely on there to keep things running. He needed someone who knows what they’re doing, so he called in for back up.

Before Eric can verbally ask for clarification, as if on cue ANGELA MOORE flurries into the office. She’s frazzled, wondering if everyone is okay. Shawn said there was an emergency. Eric rolls his eyes.

Eric: No, your grown man of a boyfriend is just a big baby.

Shawn clearly resents the implication, but Angela is totally lost. Eric gives her the quick rundown of the situation, also pointing out that this certainly won’t make Harper feel like her authority is being undermined.

Angela gives Shawn a disdainful look, but ultimately agrees to stick around for drills. It was nice to come back into the halls of AAA, surprisingly. So she’ll help where she can.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Charlie is at his locker, chatting with Haley and Clarissa. They tell him that they need to go get changed for drills, but they’ll see him in rehearsal. He nods them on their way, grabbing his things and getting ready to go himself.

But someone bumps into his locker and makes him drop his books, everything tumbling to the floor at their feet. Both of them immediately drop down to start picking things up, Charlie only lifting his head when the person apologizes.

It’s Zay. He offers another apology and helps collect the books, Charlie speechless for a second before assuring him it’s fine. They both rise back to their feet, Zay offering an awkward smile as he hands the books back to him.

His touch lingers. Charlie meets his eyes, and a tacit exchange passes between them. It’s hard to tell where they stand -- are they back to being acquaintances? Is this some kind of weird game? Or did they truly leave the summer on an uneven foot?

Either way, the tension of whatever kind is palpable. Zay says he’ll see him in class, passing him by and heading down the hall. Charlie takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking a moment before closing his locker.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Farkle makes his triumphant march back into school, returned to his former blazer glory… sort of. He’s nowhere near as put together as he was at the beginning of sophomore year, his hair barely combed and still all over the place. He looks more exhausted than impassioned, but he’s nothing if not dedicated to the dream.

Glaring up at the institution, he stomps up the steps and through the doors as the jaunty drill piano riff leads us in…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Hope I Get It” as performed by A Chorus Line Original Broadway Cast || Performed by AAA Juniors (feat. Angela Moore)

Matching the frenzy of the Broadway classic, Angela leads the performing students through an intense and fast-paced routine for drills. The opening sequence alone feels like a true return to form, and from the get-go the sense is clear that everything is going to be heightened this season, especially the singing and dancing.

Farkle takes the first solo about “needing this job.” As the ballet combination sequence ensues, the section is split between the junior girls performing the dance and the techie crew each giving their “auditions.”

Jade displays some of the costume pieces she created for the shows in the past, as well as projects she worked on over the summer. Dylan enthusiastically plays his guitar, as well as giving an excited speech of some kind that involves a lot of jumping around. Asher sits on the edge of the stage and shows off set designs he did for the last four productions.

Nate coolly shrugs and clearly makes a point of wondering why they have to be doing this at all, yet still obliging. Jeff waves at them from the lighting booth, doing all the work. Dave haphazardly wields a power tool and gabs on about all the set building he does, Eric, Jack, and Harper ready to hide behind their notepads in self-defense just in case.

When Angela beckons the boys to come forward, Farkle takes center stage with Zay on his left and Charlie his right. Zay tosses a glare to Farkle, who gives him a snide look in return. Charlie glances to Zay. Then Angela counts them in, sending them on a tight, impressive run through of the complicated routine.

As the girls are beckoned back to join, Maya steps back up next to Farkle. They exchange derisive stares, before putting more energy into the routine than ever before. Riley is managing to keep up after a year at AAA, but Isadora is clearly struggling.

On the last verse, the junior class makes their way to the front of the stage. Each blare of the horn sends one of the main players dropping into a crouch and spinning away from the front (the students behind them following suit), until it’s just Charlie standing in the center.

He takes the delicate final solo (“Who am I anyway? Am I my resume?”), seemingly frozen in time against his fellow classmates. As he steps cautiously forward...

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Charlie is in front of his family fireplace, staring at the perfect photos on the mantle (“That is a picture of a person I don’t know.”)

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The rest of the number is split between scrutinizing his own image and the stage, Charlie carefully stepping around the crouched shadows of his peers as to not make a disturbance.

He sings the last line wistfully, staring out at the stage lights and emphatically declaring how much he wants to remain at AAA (“I need this job, oh God, I need this show…”). Seems like there will be much to explore with the resident prince charming this season…

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

All the girls are lamenting the drills, complaining about how dumb the whole reaudition process is. Isadora is so exhausted, she doesn’t even have the energy to join in. While everyone else is merely vexed, she has so much catching up to do. The pressure is definitely catching up to her.

Maya asks if she’s okay, but she states she’s just overwhelmed and needs some space and quiet for a bit. She respects this, backing off and heading out with the others.

Isadora paces the confines of the dressing room, but it’s not calming to her. It’s not her place. She changes tracks, going in search of a safer place.

INT. AAA - CATWALK - DAY

From the top of the catwalk, Isadora can be above it all for a moment again. Isolated, protected, back where she belongs. She settles onto the metal walkway and looks out towards the house, gazing towards the empty booth with its dark windows. Emptier than it should be.

Pulling out her phone, she goes to her message thread with Lucas. The last couple of texts have been her, asking where he is and if he’s coming to school. Unanswered.

Dissatisfied, Isadora opts to make a call instead. It goes to voicemail, which she clearly isn’t surprised by. She debates hanging up, then decides to wait for the beep to signal her message.

Isadora: Hey, it’s Dora. Again. Just wondering where the fuck you are and why you’re ghosting me? Or just ghosting in general, I guess. You need to come back, they’re doing this weird reaudition thing and if you don’t participate… I don’t know. I don’t know what’ll happen. But things are changing around here, and I don’t think you want to get left behind. I know how you hate that. Also… I need you here. I need you to come back, or at least tell me you’re okay. [ A beat, then in frustration. ] Mostly, I need you to answer your damn phone.

She hangs up, releasing an exhausted sigh. She tilts her head back against the rail, closing her eyes and settling into the quiet.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela makes her way into the black box theater, exhaling a happy sigh as she steps back into her former domain. Shawn is on her heels, disrupting Harper as she continues to set up her classroom during lunch break.

Angela makes a point of introducing herself, obviously intending for no bad blood between the two women. Harper seems willing to meet her at that level, holding clear respect for her and commending her ability to handle this job so long and so well. But she shoots a pointed jab in Shawn’s direction, pointing out that a heads up about her arrival would’ve been nice.

It’s evident that Shawn and Harper are not going to make easy collaborators.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle is heading to his locker, nearly running into Riley on the way. They make tentative eye contact, but when Farkle starts to say something she moves past him without allowing him the chance. The dismissal stings, especially from Riley, but he can’t very well blame her.

Facing his locker, he’s startled to find Maya there waiting for him, although her greeting is far from friendly. She glowers at him, questioning why he even bothered to come back.

Farkle: Oh, oh, sorry, was that Degrassi-style text you sent yesterday a butt dial? Was I not supposed to interpret “coward” as a challenge, or what other convoluted mixed message were you attempting to convey?

It’s clear that Maya doesn’t know what she wants from him either. She searches for something to say but comes up short, instead warning him to stay the hell out of her way before ramming into him as she storms past him. Farkle takes the hit, smiling sardonically and glancing over his shoulder to watch her go.

Once she’s gone, he opens his locker. It’s startling to see it as almost a time capsule from the year before, as he never bothered to clean it out after the fallout. Remnants of how things used to be are all over -- photos of him and Maya, mementos from the lighter parts of the school year, a playbill from Les Mis.

All of that, completely useless now. He remains passive, grabbing his books as the opening chords of his audition song fade in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dancing With Myself” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Starting in the hallway by himself, Farkle kicks off his reaudition by sauntering through the halls on his own. He snaps his fingers as he wanders backwards through the hallway, lightly grooving to the beat as he carries us through the first third of the song.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Things take on a bit of a surrealist slant as Farkle transitions to the auditorium, now on the stage. Only he’s not alone -- the rest of the core students (Riley, Maya, Zay, Charlie, Isadora) are frozen on stage, almost like wax figures rather than themselves. He dances around them as he continues, emphasizing how he’s essentially being frozen out of their lives.

During the bridge, the others disappear as the lights go down on each of them. Eventually it’s just Farkle in the middle of the stage with a light shining down from directly above, casting him in shadow as he sings the last “Cause it’ll give me… time to think.”

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As he rounds out the final chorus, Farkle is back in the hallway again on his way to class. He’s constantly overlooked or ignored as people pass him by, literally getting bumped into a couple of times without apology. He doesn’t even seem bothered, taking the stride with a blank, somewhat neutral smile on his face.

He disappears around a corner, focus shifting as Isadora catches up to Dylan and Asher outside the doors to the auditorium. She corners them both, claiming that she knows they know where Lucas is. They can’t bullshit her, although they weakly refute it.

Irritation aside, Isadora tells them that they better make sure he gets the message about the audition bullshit. Also, he should really fucking answer his phone.

Then, attempting to break the awkwardness, she asks how the techie side of things are going now that she’s spending her time with the performers. They assure her that all is well, nothing new, and she has to accept that. While it seems like nothing is going to change between Isadora and her former crew, there’s a lot of room for her absence to make waves…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Farkle pokes his head in after school, swinging by to pick up the start of term paperwork he missed from Harper. They exchange more formal introductions, although it is clear neither of them are all that impressed by the other.

Harper comments on Farkle’s absence from the first day, insinuating that it doesn’t indicate great work ethic. She hopes he proves her wrong. He makes a flippant retort about how he didn’t realize illness was suddenly a punishable offense, and she is not pleased with it. If there’s a surefire way to start off on a bad foot, the two of them have found it.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As Farkle is making his way out, he runs into Angela. For the no good day he’s having, it’s honestly nice to see her again. Angela treats him just as warmly as she always did even in his worst moments, asking him how things are going and if he’s feeling better -- she heard he missed the first day.

He brushes off the concern, instead changing the subject to her Off-Broadway rehearsal process. She invites him to walk with her, the two of them heading down the hall as she starts to recount what the experience has been like.

It’s the most at peace Farkle has seemed since our return.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

KATY HART is working hard behind the counter, but food is not her focus. She’s hunched over the countertop with a calculator, crunching the numbers on bills. Her expression conveys the distress she’s feeling over the ordeal. When Maya shows up, she frantically hides it all away, putting on her usual smile as her daughter hops up onto a stool at the counter to talk to her.

Maya spares a second to talk about the idiocy of the reaudition thing, offhandedly complains about Lucas’s obnoxious absence as well as Farkle’s infamous return, and then eagerly swaps topics. She explains this outing that she, Zay, Charlie, Izzy, and Yindra want to do next weekend. It costs some money -- not a lot, but worth noting -- so she’s wondering if she’ll be able to go. Can they afford it?

Despite what we saw earlier, Katy offers another loving smile and says they’ll figure it out. Seems Riley isn’t the only one dealing in denial.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

On the opposite end of Manhattan, Isadora is marching down Lucas’s street. She buzzes herself into the shabby building.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - HALL - DAY

Once she reaches his apartment, it’s not him who answers the door, but rather GRACE FRIAR. She is tense, distracted as Isadora attempts to have a conversation with her about whether or not Lucas is home. She keeps checking over her shoulder, and she’s absentmindedly adjusting the collar of her blouse to make sure it’s covering her collarbone. Isadora has to keep bringing her focus back, pushing more and more as she appears to be more of a dead end.

After a certain point, she gives Isadora a warning look.

Grace: Lucas isn’t here. I think you should really get going.

The tone of her words is pretty hard to misunderstand, so Isadora takes heed and heads out. But she’s clearly frustrated, retreating with no more answers than before.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

As Isadora descends the steps to the building, she finally makes a break through. She glances down the street just as LUCAS FRIAR is skulking back home, backpack on his shoulder although he clearly wasn’t at school.

They lock eyes, surprise and recognition coloring both of their features. Then Isadora sighs, expression shifting to a frustrated glare.

EXT. TOMPKINS SQUARE PARK - DAY

Lucas and Isadora have relocated to the park a couple of blocks from his apartment. She sits cross-legged on a picnic table bench while he sits on the ground with his knees pulled up, not looking at her as he rips blades of grass.

For what it’s worth, he doesn’t seem to have changed much since we last saw him. But considering the state that was, broken down in the booth, that’s not necessarily a good thing. He’s in his usual dark ensemble and sporting a snapback, black with a deep blue band. He has a brace on his left wrist, and although the reason why remains unstated, it goes without saying it’s probably not great.

Isadora is filling the silence, methodically explaining the reaudition process with far more detail than Lucas wants or needs. She starts to discuss how he’s going to need to throw something together, but he interrupts by tersely stating that he told her not to come to his apartment.

She fires back, acknowledging that agreement but claiming its null and void when he decides to drop off the fucking face of the Earth. He wasn’t answering her messages or calls. She didn’t know what else to do, or what to think. The reasons he doesn’t want her over are the exact reasons she had to come check that he was simply being a jackass rather than something worse.

Isadora: Look, I get… I get wanting to avoid everything. I get wanting space, you know I do. But to go completely off the grid is a whole other thing, and then [ with a scoff ] to keep Asher and Dylan in the loop and not me? The tweedledum and tweedledummer of our crew?

Lucas: [ warningly ] Hey, don’t --

Isadora: I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but that’s insane. That’s bullshit.

Lucas: Well you wouldn’t have wanted to know what we were up to anyway, so.

Isadora claims that’s not the point, the conversation dead-ending again. Silence settles over them. Finally, Isadora sighs.

Isadora: You cannot just ghost like that. You know what people suddenly disappearing does to me, Lucas.

Lucas: … I know. I’m sorry.

[ Another pointed silence. He still won’t look at her. She shakes her head. ]

Isadora: Listen, I’m sorry that things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to. I’m sorry shit sucks. It does. And I know you’re pissed about McCullough, but are you really going to blow the only other option you have? [ a beat ] More than that, are you really going to let Farkle Minkus have the last word?

Nothing is more powerful a motivator than spite, as Farkle himself can attest. Now that seems to spark something in Lucas. Not necessarily a good spark, but it’s better than nothing.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Eric swings by Jack’s office the next morning to confer, only to discover he’s not alone. He accidentally walks in on Jack exchanging a goodbye kiss with his new girlfriend, ANNE MARIE WINTHROP (38). She’s fair-haired, rather pretty, and carries herself with an air of composure and authority that Jack himself puts out.

Eric profusely apologizes but Jack waves him off, quickly introducing the two. Anne Marie accepts Eric’s hand shake, the latter nervously stumbling into a goofy greeting.

Eric: Anne Marie. Oh. Two names for the price of one, huh? Good deal!

Jack makes a face, obviously wondering why his usually tactful counselor is being so weird. Anne Marie takes it in stride, claiming he’s no bother at all and that she was just heading out. She confirms with Jack that he’ll meet her at the office for dinner, then gives them both a wave farewell. Seems like a lovely gal!

Jack asks Eric what he’s got, and he explains that the auditions are going relatively well given that the students absolutely hate them. He’s more unsettled by what he’s observed of the Shawn and Harper dynamic, as he has no idea how that partnership is going to fare without Angela there to smooth things over.

Jack defends his hiring of Harper, and both of them agree that transitions like these mostly just take time to set. The other news Eric has is much more pertinent and promises some real potential friction.

Because guess who’s back and ready to thrash...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The class has assembled, there to witness Lucas’s grand return to AAA. He’s standing center stage, a covered object placed on a couple of acting blocks beside him.

He first gives a small speech about how this whole audition process is bullshit and made specifically to punish a subsection of the class, so it’s not fair that he and the techies have to go through the motions.

Lucas: But then, when has anyone ever cared about the techies? This seems just about typical. I’d refuse to do it in protest, especially considering I’m the only multi-faceted technician aside from Dora and it would truly be a self-inflicted bullet wound if they expelled me...

Maya: God, if only.

Lucas: But I’ve already orchestrated one school-wide revolt, so whatever, I’ll play along.

Thusly, Lucas removes the tarp from his project, revealing a scaled-down diorama of the auditorium featuring little replicas the typical AAA junior class. A production design / tactile display, in a sense.

Nigel: Oh my God, you made little voodoo dolls.

Maybe so, Nigel. Maybe so. He also has commentary to go with the presentation, and suffice to say, it’s far from tame.

Lucas: So here’s Hart standing center stage and soaking up all the spotlight. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the time to add vocal tracks -- actually, I just didn’t care -- so just imagine a cat screeching bloody murder and you’ll get the full effect.

Maya looks like she’s about to commit murder. Isadora grimaces.

Lucas: This is Dave over here -- he’s holding pizza even though we’re not supposed to eat in the auditorium.

Dave: [ touched ] He knows me so well. :’)

The techies are far more amused by the whole thing than the performers. Charlie leans forward, squinting to get a better look.

Charlie: Do I not have a face?

Lucas: Oh, do you not? [ glancing to check ] Well. That can’t be a subconscious message, can it?

Once he’s run the full gamut, one creative choice becomes pointedly clear.

Darby: Where’s Riley?

Lucas: Oh.

[ Lucas glances at the diorama where she is clearly left out. Then he looks right at her, completely deadpan. ]

Lucas: Guess I forgot her.

Yikes. Riley tries not to let it get to her. She chews her lip, maintaining a neutral expression.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Farkle faces the lunch room shuffle, pausing by the entrance and scanning for where to plant himself. He eyes his former table where Maya, Zay, and Riley are currently situated… and opts to go in the other direction given the way Maya is glaring at him.

He takes an isolated seat at the other end of the table where Clarissa, Haley, and Darby are chatting. They’re discussing how much it’s going to suck now that Isadora is joining the ranks of the performers, as she’ll likely eat up any of the slim chances they had at getting good solos. Farkle is shocked by this news.

Farkle: I’m sorry, what?

Haley: Um, eavesdrop much?

Farkle: Smackle is joining our class? You can’t be serious.

Darby: That’s what happens when you miss the first day. Miss all the new developments.

Clarissa: Why do you even care, Farkle? It’s not like she’s really a threat for a tenor.

Haley: Oh, he doesn’t care about that. He’s just worried she’ll beat him out for other opportunities since he’s determined himself the most deserving.

Farkle rolls his eyes, suddenly not at all interested in eating. He seems more perturbed by this development than he maybe should be, but it’s not clear why.

Haley: Just don’t make another tantrum video, okay?

Clarissa: Yeah, we’ve had enough drama for a lifetime thanks to you.

He shoots them a glare, getting to his feet. He tosses his lunch without eating it, marching out of the cafeteria.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

The techie table seems to be mostly back in order with Lucas back in their ranks. All seems to be well and good again… until Jade makes the mistake of innocently asking Isadora what her reaudition song is going to be. Lucas is disturbed by the notion.

Lucas: Why are you performing? You know you don’t have to do that, right? You can do something else. They can’t make you perform.

Isadora: … yes, I know. The thing is --

Before Isadora can break the news, Yindra interrupts. She pulls that Hermione-Granger-I’m-not-an-owl nonsense, and poorly delivers a message of Maya that it would be smart for all of them to attend her reaudition after lunch.

Yindra: I was chosen as the best representative to come bearing the… holy gospel… that Maya intends to knock all of our socks… no, she said something about water too --

Asher: Aren’t you an actor? You’re supposed to be good at memorizing stuff.

Yindra: Not when it’s nonsense.

Lucas: Get on with it, Yindra.

Yindra: Basically, Maya wants you all there for her reaudition. Specifically.

Nate: [ with a snort ] Why? As if we care about Broadway Barbie’s five hundredth solo?

Yindra: I’m just telling you what she told me. She has some… things she wants to say.

Ominous, but effective. Dylan and Asher look to Lucas, waiting to see what he does next.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And so the techies show up, along with just about everyone else in their class. Maya eagerly takes the stage, delivering her first diva look of the season and confidently proclaiming that she’s about to set the tone for the rest of the year -- the year of Maya Hart.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Sue Me” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Maya Hart

Aside from an absolute bop and an impressive display of vocal chops, the things that Maya intends to say with her reaudition become pretty clear. She’s back with renewed fire as promised, and the number serves as a big “fuck you” to everyone who has wronged her or is pissing her off.

Namely, Lucas and Farkle. Maya basically sings the line “I know it’s hard to see me on when you’ve been off as hell / But I’m not gonna dull myself because you dull yourself” directly to Lucas, shrugging him off and flipping her hair over her shoulder with a flourish.

While it’s an undeniable good show and such a banger, and a majority of the class seems to be enjoying it, Farkle looks miserable. He slouches in his seat, gritting his teeth.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Farkle is hanging around in the hall, managing to catch Isadora just before her audition. She seems surprised he’s talking to her, until his intentions become clear -- he’s trying to convince her not to go through with it.

His motivations seem pretty transparent, and Isadora doesn’t hesitate to tell him to take a hike. She’s got enough doubt surrounding this decision, she doesn’t need him to echo it too just so he doesn’t have to have a little more competition. Still, certain things he says to try and convince her hint that maybe his intentions are more complex than they seem.

Farkle: Think about it. You hate the performers. You hate the way we act, how selfish we are, how nothing matters but the spotlight. Do you really want to dive right into the middle of that shallow pool?

Isadora: That’s funny, coming from you.

Farkle: Exactly. [ a beat ] Do you really want to end up like me?

There’s a chilling thought. Isadora hesitates, matching his glare… but no. She’s not taking any shit. Isadora is done letting people dictate which direction she’s allowed to go, and she’s not letting anyone stop her -- least of all Farkle Minkus.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Don’t Rain On My Parade” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Isadora bursts through the doors to the wings, marching into the limelight as she launches into an impassioned rendition of the belter classic. She’s singing deep from the soul, pouring everything she’s got onto the stage for the chance to be taken seriously. And boy, is it a compelling plea.

All of the techies are there to support her, as well as Maya and Zay. Riley is also present, although she’s somewhat isolated from the others. Still, she has a proud smile on her face as Isadora commands the stage.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas isn’t with the rest of the crew, hidden away in the booth and watching from above. Although his best friend is inarguably dynamite, he doesn’t look thrilled as she wraps up her performance.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S ROOM - DAY

Zay is back at home, destressing from the week and touching up his hair in the mirror. He’s dressed in the same outfit we saw from the opening, so it’s evident his audition was also today.

He’s going on and on about how ridiculous the whole process is, making fun of the “we’ll let you know” tomfoolery of it all. It seems as though he’s just thinking out loud… until someone else joins in the exchange, jokingly stating that it would be “bananas” for them to kick him out, and he knows it. Zay cracks a smile, glancing at his reflection before looking over his shoulder…

At Charlie, seated cross-legged on his bed and watching him nitpick himself. He looks relaxed, far more comfortable and natural than we’ve seen him thus far. He props his chin on his hands, looking Zay over before raising his eyebrows to accent the point.

Given the way they banter back and forth about the auditions, it’s clear that Zay and Charlie now have a familiar rapport. Zay saunters over and settles down onto the bed next to him, nudging him playfully and leaning in rather close. Charlie doesn’t seem at all shaken by the proximity, nausea a long-forgotten side effect.

Zay alludes to how they spent a majority of the summer together after his return from Kossal, clarifying some of the gaps in their development.

Charlie: If I think you’re still worth keeping around after three months, I don’t see how they would get rid of you after three years.

Zay: Well, to be fair, the... talents that I’m sharing with you are a little more convincing than my dancing.

[ Charlie makes a face, scrunching his nose. Zay gasps in faux offense. ]

Zay: Are you shading my romantic prowess? [ at Charlie’s shrug ] Or do you just really love dance.

Charlie: [ grinning ] I think I just really love dance. But uh… [ glancing at his lips ] show me again what I’m judging?

Zay smirks, leaning forward to give him a kiss. The moment lingers, Charlie smiling in spite of himself.

Charlie: Oh, yeah. Right. That’s pretty good.

Zay: Uh-huh, yeah, sure.

The two of them kiss again, descending into laughter as they fall back against the mattress. The long and short of it is crystal clear -- Zay and Charlie are officially together.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley jogs after Dylan and Asher, desperate to break through the embargo in any way possible. She basically begs the two of them to hear her out, pulling them aside by the dressing room doors and out of the way of other students. She requests just two minutes of their time, which they grant. It’s clear neither of them are all that keen about the situation.

Finally being heard, Riley laments how stupid this whole situation is. She explains that she never meant to hurt anybody, especially considering the thing wasn’t even her words, and especially not Lucas.

Riley: You both know I was never… it wasn’t fake. Not for me. You guys have to know that.

[ Asher and Dylan exchange a look. ]

Riley: And I know that you’re talking to him, so could you just…

She trails off, able to tell from their expressions that they’re not going to be much help. They believe her, but it’s not their opinion that makes a difference. Even if they did tell him what she just told them -- if they haven’t already -- there’s little chance it would make a difference.

Still, they seem genuinely sympathetic. Asher reaches out and touches her arm, frowning.

Asher: I’m sorry, Riley. Really.

She meets his eyes, giving him a resigned nod. She watches them walk away, left alone in the hallway as everyone continues on their business around her.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Reason Why” as performed by Rachael Yamagata || Performed by Riley Matthews

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley delivers a sobering take on their current straits for her reaudition, alone under a single spotlight on the stage. No fanfare, no glitz -- just her and her emotions, as she operates best. The lyrics truly cut, her vocals tearing through them given how difficult the last few months have been. It’s a pertinent song for the world they exist in now, and her rendition of it is chilling.

Only a few other people are present, mainly Zay and Charlie as well as a couple of other stray classmates. The techies are nowhere to be found, Lucas most notably, though unsurprisingly.

When the song wraps, even the judging panel is feeling the low mood. Eric thanks Riley, barely getting the sentiment out before she dashes her way off stage.

Zay and Charlie exchange a look.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Isadora finds Lucas in the booth later, the latter clearly having an off start to the school year. He’s oddly cold to her as she attempts to start a conversation, so she pokes at him to try and figure out what the hell is up with him. He coolly points out that she certainly didn’t tell him about her plans to jump to the other side of the tracks.

Isadora: Is that what this is about? Seriously? [ off his shrug ] I’m … I’m going to do both. You can do both.

Lucas: [ with a snort ] Okay.

When she pushes him on it, he brings up all of the contrary arguments to the decision that she’s been trying to ignore. The piss poor track record of the collective performer attitude. The cut-throat nature. The fact that she has no proper training and is leagues behind, which is only going to make her more overwhelmed.

When he brings up Valerie, it’s a bridge too far.

Lucas: Or what about how your mom literally dumped you because she cared more about the spotlight than raising her child? And you really want to follow in those footsteps --

Isadora, snapping: So you don’t speak to me for days, and now you’re offering your input? Now you think it’s cool to just waltz back in and say whatever the fuck you want?

A harsh dig, but a valid one. Lucas backs off, obviously unprepared for her sharp reaction. Both of them end up back under silence, not sure what to say next. Their exchange is softer when they speak again.

Lucas: I didn’t… I’m just looking out for you.

Isadora: I know.

Lucas: I didn’t mean to upset you, or whatever.

Isadora: Well, okay.

Lucas: Okay.

But it doesn’t really feel okay. Things are changing just like Isadora said they were, but perhaps even more than either of them recognized. And more than either of them know how to handle.

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Zay climbs his way up to the prop loft, startling Riley. She’s curled up by the shelf of set decor pieces, crying and growing embarrassed once she realizes she’s been caught. She starts to wipe her eyes and make up an excuse but Zay doesn’t harp on it, simply walking over and settling down next to her.

Riley: [ wiping her eyes, huffing ] Sorry.

Zay: What are you apologizing to me for? I’m the one who disrupted your space.

Riley laughs a little, even though nothing is funny. Zay doesn’t pressure her, but he’s there. Available to talk, if she wants to talk.

After a bout of quiet, Riley explains that this situation is harder for her than it probably should be. She states that this whole experience is reminiscent of things she’s already been through, going on to confide in Zay that reason she transferred to Adams in sophomore year was because of the intense bullying she endured at her former school.

Riley: Don’t get me wrong, I’d still much rather be here. And the situations aren’t really all that similar. But the feeling… going back to being isolated because of something that really doesn’t have anything to do with me, just because, it’s --

Zay: Just because it’s marginally better doesn’t make this experience hurt any less.

Riley could certainly use the validation. She nods, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

Zay notes that he’s no stranger to bullying, growing up Black and queer. But he reassures Riley that he’s going to be there for her -- she’s not isolated. She’s not going through it alone. Everything else can fall apart, but he’s not going anywhere.

Riley smiles, nodding gratefully. Zay puts his arm around her and she leans into his shoulder, the two of them taking in the peace and allowing it to hurt. Letting the hurt happen, before they have to rebuild again.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

The faculty five are assembled in Eric’s office, discussing the auditions and how they want to maneuver where things go from here on out. None of them are getting cut, of course, but they need to decide how to effectively get the message across with the announcement that that doesn’t mean there’s a free pass for more bullshit.

Case in point, Jack reiterates the point that they are lucky to be here. All of them are, and that’s what he wants this whole experiment to drive home. They had to fight for their spot again, and they should remember to cherish how privileged they are to have these opportunities even when things get tense.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

So that’s the message Harper delivers when she informs the assembled junior class that no one will be getting asked to leave. They all stand together on the stage as she gives a heartwarming speech about how lucky they all are to be in this position, and she hopes they remember that as they move through the challenges of this year. It’s a moving argument.

This sentiment goes over less smoothly in execution, however, as the juniors are pissed that the whole thing was just some elaborate mind game that they exerted time and energy towards. The jabs thrown around escalate, until somehow it all comes back to blaming Farkle for how the entire thing is his fault because of his stupid meltdown video.

Finally having had enough, Farkle snaps. He essentially gives a live show of the aforementioned meltdown, railing about how it’s bullshit that he’s getting the blame for everything when they’re all just as bitter and petty as he is. Sure, he sent in the video and yes, he shouldn’t have said the things he did, but all of them also submitted rude posts about one another. They all sent in bullshit for their own selfish reasons -- whether to tear down someone else or prop themselves up. Charlie casts a nervous glance to Riley, who avoids eye contact with him.

Harper is unimpressed with Farkle’s tirade, but she’s even more overwhelmed with how to bring this trainwreck back on track. Angela takes the reins instead, stepping forward and attempting to rally home Jack’s point that they should all feel lucky to be here.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Show People” as performed by Curtains Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Jack Hunter & Angela Moore (feat. AAA Juniors) (starting at 00:30)

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

Specifics of the situation modified, Angela covers the opening bit of the song in essentially trying to guilt and bully the junior class into realizing they’re being ridiculous.

When she claims the show must go on and they call horseshit, Jack steps up to take the soapbox. He elaborates how not only are they lucky to be here, they’re lucky to be performers at all. People all around the world wish they were in their shoes, people would kill to be where they are right now with all this talent and opportunity at their fingertips. Surrounded by other talented, passionate people. Doing what they love.

Of course, it’s appealing to that intrinsic love of the art that starts to win people over. First Angela and Jack carry the song, but then students begin to join in. Nigel, then Yindra. Yogi has the bad joke about tree surgeons.

For once, it’s clear that the junior class is having fun again. It’s also the first taste we’re getting of the full ensemble at work, the techies participating in the performance just as much as the rest. This season Harper said there would be more crossover, and that promise will indeed hold true!

About five minutes in, the performers come together in a kick line and declare that they are, in fact, show people. There’s a sense of unity for the first time all season, this rooted passion unlike any other that ties all of them together in spite of everything else.

As Angela takes the last few “and on” notes, she dances with a few key groups. Charlie and Zay are standing together in a half-circle with Yindra and Nigel, exchanging a playful look with Angela as she sings with them. Then she flutters over to the techie crew, pulling them back into the number with a flourish.

On the final, climactic repetition of the chorus, the entire ensemble is up on stage participating. Yes, all of them. As they march towards the front of the stage, Angela leading the charge, she makes one final definitive stomp that sends us smashing to black.

This is it! Round 2!

END OF EPISODE.

#s2 #episodes #this is it! round 2!#201

33 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 6 years ago

Photo

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Got A Lotta Livin’ To Do” [ 2.08 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page

YOUTH IS WASTED ON THE YOUNG – Devastating news sends the junior class reeling. When decisions are made for all the wrong reasons, everybody must face the consequences. Eric is haunted by signs he may have missed.

62 Minutes (16K words) || CONTENT WARNING: mentions of suicide; underage drinking; mild physical harassment. Take care of yourselves and read with discretion.

[ ← Contingency Plan ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ World Uncertain → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lovely” as performed by Billie Eilish & Khalid || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz, Riley Matthews, Maya Hart, Charlie Gardner, Zay Babineaux, and Lucas James Friar

The soft piano eases us into the episode, a long shot of the hallways of AAA less lively than usual. Whereas there is often dancing, laughter, and commotion in the opening hours of the school day, today it’s still.

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is the first person to appear, standing alone in front of the display case outside the auditorium. There are photographs from Into the Woods up, and that’s what is holding her focus as she delivers the opening verse. As she turns and begins to walk down the hall, CHARLIE GARDNER appears within frame and joins in the vocals, growing more and more distant the further Isadora walks from him.

The whole number progresses with this disjointed sort of feeling -- the students being together, but feeling distinctly apart. The vocal focus shifts from the two of them to MAYA HART then to RILEY MATTHEWS and ZAY BABINEAUX, their voices melting seamlessly into one another due to the heaviness of the delivery.

The moment it all comes together is about halfway through in the second verse, when all of them come together along with LUCAS FRIAR. Zay behind Isadora, Charlie behind Maya, Lucas behind Riley. The six of them look straight at the camera with blank expressions as they march down the hall, seemingly in sync for this one captured moment of grief.

Oh I hope some day I’ll make it out of here...

It’s a long, continuous shot, staying with Maya as she abruptly halts and the other five disperse around her. She’s standing in front of Farkle’s locker. Frozen, transfixed by it. She lifts her hand to touch it and then decides against it, pulling her hand back. She swivels away from it, the riffs of her classmates echoing as she drifts her way back towards the auditorium.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

We’re following Maya as she walks, making her way through the hall...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And out into the wings, stage lights down and house lights up as she passes through the stage and towards the stairs to the front and center section of seats. The rest of the junior A class is there amongst them, but they’re blurry and out of focus.

Maya settles into one of the chairs, camera rotating around to see the stage. JACK HUNTER, ERIC MATTHEWS, HARPER BURGESS, and SHAWN HUNTER are assembled, expression and demeanors somber as they address the A class. As the song comes to an end and their voices become audible, Jack’s words of understanding still feel far away.

Jack: … understand how overwhelming this might be. Which is why we are going to process it together. If there is anything you need…

The focus is back on Maya, having spun our way around to the front. Easing in on her empty expression…

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric continue on with their opening remarks, explaining the resources that they have available in light of what has happened with Farkle Minkus. Harper and Shawn nod along, equally as solemn. Harper seems particularly fragile, hands clasped so tightly in front of her she’s turning her knuckles white.

Additionally, as Eric explains, he’ll be available at any hour the next week if any of them need to come talk through what they are feeling about the situation. He emphasizes that the worst thing any of them can do at this time is isolate themselves, and every one of them up on stage -- and any other faculty -- are there for them.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The halls continue to feel muted even though the day marches on. At one end of the hall, NIGEL CHEY talks softly with YINDRA AMINO and JADE BEAMON. He reaches out a hand to touch Jade’s elbow, extending comfort.

A little further down, ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO are having a difficult conversation. Asher isn’t looking at him as he swaps items from his bag to his locker, meticulously nitpicking at the books on the shelves as a distraction. Dylan is leaning against the row with his arms crossed, delicately broaching the conversation.

Dylan: You heard what Mister E said. The worst thing we can do right now is isolate, and that’s all he’s been doing for months.

Asher: I know.

Dylan: That has to be the reason he said any of that stuff, anyway. It’s like you said, it’s like he wants to push people away. I’m not saying it’s right, or anything, and you know I’m on your side. I’m just thinking that --

Asher: Okay, but even if he didn’t mean it, he still said it. And you know I’m not just -- I know what you mean. I do. [ fussing with his backpack ] But at what point do we say okay, this is all I can take? I’ve been pushing the line further and further back because of exactly that, because I don’t want him to be alone, because he’s my friend, but where do we draw the line? When does it finally become too much --

Asher nearly drops his backpack and gasps, catching it and cursing under his breath. He takes a moment and closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Dylan frowns, reaching out and rubbing his shoulder.

When he’s pulled it together, Asher turns to face him. His tone is soft, touching Dylan’s arm.

Asher: You know I’m not going to tell you what to do. You can make your own decisions. I just…

[ Dylan listens attentively. He shifts his hand to touch Asher’s cheek, a subtly encouraging gesture that signals it’s safe to say whatever he needs to say. ]

Asher: Right now, I can’t. I just... need space.

A reasonable request, considering how much he’s already done for Lucas. Dylan nods. Asher gives him a tight smile, sharing a quick kiss before he closes his locker and shuffles down the hall for his next class.

Dylan watches him go, releasing a sigh and leaning back against the lockers.

Jack, pre-lap: It is imperative that we act with caution.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Our junior faculty is assembled, CORY MATTHEWS joining Harper and Shawn in meeting with Eric and Jack. The principal is seated at his desk, leading the more candid discussion of how they should approach a guaranteed difficult week. Cory says what they’re all thinking.

Cory: I just can’t believe it.

The main takeaway from the meeting seems to be that whether they like it or not, the group of them are role models in this situation. How they handle this will help inform the students on how to handle it, so it’s up to them to be in control of their emotions and act as pillars for the A class to lean on. Harper questions if this means they’re just pretending it didn’t happen, obviously the one struggling the most with keeping her emotions in check.

Eric refutes this take, pointing out that their primary role is still to be a teacher. He warns against initiating conversations about it, as some students may not want to talk about it or address it yet. Those who want to seek conversation will come to them, and if anyone seems in need of counseling then Harper is encouraged to send them his way.

Harper: And what about you? Are you sure you can handle taking on all that extra… have you even gotten to take a moment for yourself?

Eric: When we’re here, our responsibility is for the students. I can handle myself on my own time.

Shawn is the one to point out the other obvious threat -- overreactions. He doesn’t suspect they’ll have any copycats or anything, but then, they didn’t realize it soon enough with Farkle either. The fact of the matter is, there is a lot boiling under the surface of these kids right now because of this, and they’re guaranteed to release that pent up energy eventually. They should be even more vigilant than usual.

Jack seconds the notion. Speaking from experience, some teenagers are very good at concealing what they’re feeling...

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

One such student is Isadora, who is having lunch with Maya. They’re hidden away in the girls dressing room, away from the noise and constant chatter of the cafeteria.

For all intents and purposes, she seems to be handling the news better than others. She’s at least being open and talkative about her attempts to process it, gently nudging Maya into conversation about it.

Isadora: Something similar happened at my last foster home... I won’t go into details, but… it’s like... they kept telling us the same thing over and over again. About feelings, and guilt and all that sort of shit, but none of it really helped. I don’t know what… [ a beat ] This isn’t very helpful either, is it?

Maya isn’t taking to it, that’s for sure. She’s silent, lunch untouched on the countertop next to her. She’s got her feet up on the counter and is hugging her knees, leaning her head against the cool mirror. Not talking, not eating, just… nothing.

Isadora gets the hint, settling into quiet as well. But she assures her that if she does want to talk, she’s there for her.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Riley has gone to Eric for lunch, bright with an idea in the chair across from him. It’s a muted sort of enthusiasm, but her eyes are sparkling as she speaks.

Riley: I wanted to run it by you first, though, because I didn’t want to accidentally do something that might make things worse or have some unintentional psychological consequence. I just thought that… it might be nice. For all of us, but also for him. To honor him. [ a beat ] Do you think it would be okay?

Eric: I don’t see any obvious “psychological consequences” in that idea, no. [ smiling ] I think that’s a lovely idea, Riley.

Riley manages a smile. She quickly finishes her food and gathers her things, claiming she wants to get started on organizing it. Eric rises with her, requesting she hold on a second.

He comes around the desk, gently asking if she’s handling everything okay. In light of everything that has happened… he just wants to know. And if there’s anything he can do, can she promise that she will please, please tell him before it gets too deep to come back from.

Riley pauses. Then she pulls her uncle into a hug, the two of them sharing a tight embrace. Every touch means a little bit more right now.

Riley: Promise.

She pulls back first, giving him a smile and heading out. Eric watches her go, a little choked up. He clears his throat, trying to shift back into work mode.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay and Charlie are in their usual studio, but they aren’t dancing. The mood is deflated, the two of them sprawled on the floor in what seems to be the start of stretches that never went anywhere. Instead they’re talking, Zay laying on his side and propped up on his elbow. Charlie is leaning back against the mirrors, legs stretched out and feet resting on Zay’s hip.

And even their conversation isn’t its usual rapport. It’s soft and listless, both of them trying to process something that feels impossible to grasp. Zay carries most of it to fill the silence, working through his disbelief and attempting to reconcile that with the collective perspective they all had of Farkle.

Zay: I don’t know. I guess someone that… when they have that sort of personality, you never really think --

Charlie: Could’ve been me.

Charlie says it without thinking, staring at the ballet bars across from them. He only snaps out of his daze when Zay nudges his knee, concern in his features. He repeats the question of what the hell Charlie meant, obviously worried about the statement. Charlie quickly covers it, claiming he just meant that it really could’ve been any of them. Personality and background aside.

Zay doesn’t seem all that placated, so Charlie elaborates. He explains how alone he felt at the end of last year, how easy it is to stumble into those dark places and not really know how to dig yourself out. He’s lucky that he had a support system in place, as well as someone there for him in a way that no one else could be.

He tilts his head to lock eyes with Zay, sincerity shining through his tired gaze.

Charlie: I hope you know how much you mean to me.

The sentiment kind of speaks for itself. Zay softens, placing his hand on Charlie’s leg and gently stroking his knee.

Zay: Ditto.

Charlie waits a moment before placing his hand on top of his. Off their joined hands --

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley and Cory are having dinner together, just the two of them as it may very well be from now on. The two of them skirt around the elephant in the room for a bit until Riley mentions her idea to honor Farkle, stating that that’s what has taken up a majority of her attention.

Tentatively, Riley asks Cory how he’s feeling about the whole thing. Although they don’t give him much credit, he was one of his teachers. He must be thinking about it. So she opens the floor for him to actually get to talk about it instead of putting on a brave face like he does at school. Cory contemplates it.

Cory: Weirdly enough, I keep thinking about first semester.

Riley: Yeah?

Cory: Yeah. Doesn’t have anything to do with the last couple of years, but that’s what I keep coming back to. First week of school isn’t easy for a teacher. Not just because we’re also coming off the freedom of summer, but because there’s a whole new crop of kids to learn about. Not to mention all the others you’re backlogging from other years, but that’s beside the point. At least at Triple A we’re only dealing with about fifty a year, but still a lot to take in.

Riley: I can imagine.

Cory: But Farkle wasn’t like that. It was partially the name -- hard to forget a name like that, so I figured I would match the face pretty easily. But the real reason was because even from the first week, he was always two steps ahead of me. Didn’t matter if it was history or english -- and I do not envy Mr. Norton for having to battle with him in science and math. First week of classes, I’m doing an introduction on Shakespeare, and his hand just shoots up about ten minutes in and he basically takes over the lecture. [ clearing his throat ] I was irritated at the time, a little bit, because it kind of felt like he was stealing my thunder. But came to appreciate it after a while. It was nice to have a student who valued his academic intelligence just as much as his performing ability. [ weakly ] Think maybe I should’ve told him that, at some point.

Riley smiles bittersweetly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. Cory lets out an embarrassed laugh, swiping at his eyes. He holds her hand more securely, locking eyes with her.

Cory: I’m so glad that -- I’m so glad you’re still here with me, Riley. I really, really am.

The statement is loaded, and carries plenty of meaning. Glad she’s there with him and not on the same path as Farkle; glad she’s there with him when everyone else seems to have gone away -- his wife, his son. He’s grateful that, in spite of everything else, she’s still there at his side.

Riley squeezes his hand in return, nonverbally returning the sentiment.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Isadora is helping BEATRIX TORRES prepare lunches for the younger siblings. Beatrix asks her how she’s grappling with what happened to that classmate of hers, and she brushes it off as if she’s not all that bothered. Sad, of course, but it is what it is. Beatrix doesn’t seem convinced, but before she can question further, STEPHEN VAN HERSCHING requests that Isadora come join them in the dining room.

INT. FOSTER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora saunters into the seat across from him and KAREN VAN HERSCHING at the end of the dining table, expecting this to be another meeting to discuss her “behavior” as of late. They hadn’t yet confronted her about the outburst of last week, so she’s resigned as they tentatively begin the conversation.

Only it takes a turn she is not at all anticipating.

Karen: With all of this in mind, we feel it might be time for you to be relocated.

Isadora, stunned: … what?

Stephen, delicately: Clearly, we’re simply not clicking the way we’re supposed anymore. You must have noticed you’d been in respite care more often than usual these past few months, and we’ve been butting heads more than living harmoniously.

Karen: It’s not a comfortable environment for any party, and your siblings are starting to recognize it too. Perhaps that’s a sign that this just… isn’t a good fit.

Isadora chokes back her emotions, instead arguing as bluntly as she can manage. She points out that this has nothing to do with the foster siblings and everything to do with them -- they’re giving up on her because she’s not “normal” the way they’d like her to be. They’ve never known how to handle her, and now they’re giving up because they’re tired of pretending to put in an effort to understand her.

Stephen: Now I wouldn’t say --

Isadora: Of course you wouldn’t, because that would go against your perfect charitable narrative. Take in kids and give them homes, sure, as long as doing so makes you feel good about yourself and offers no potential challenges that you might have to actually lift a finger to work through.

Karen: See, this is exactly what we’re talking about. If you were intent on making this family dynamic work --

Isadora: If you were intent on making this work, you’d act like actual parents and try to understand the children you host rather than shaping them into your good samaritan trophies. When you’re an actual parent, you don’t just toss your kid out when they don’t suit you anymore!

Karen shuts the discussion down, stating that this is how things are going to be. Isadora reins in her frustration and puts on a stony expression. Karen continues to explain how long she’ll have to pack her things, what they’re doing to start arranging for her relocation, but sound goes fuzzy and sort of peters out.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “No Roots” as performed by Alice Merton || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

The bass line starts in as the Van Herschings continue to mutedly talk at Isadora, finally dismissing her. As she marches from the table and starts to move through the home she launches into the opening verse, keeping her emotions tempered for as long as it takes her to escape to the upstairs.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The door slams as she gets to the chorus, volume growing in pitch as she starts to meltdown over the ordeal. She’s being dropped again, removed and shoved off to the next person. Nothing ever lasts, no one ever stays. On top of everything else…

Enraged, Isadora rips a poster down off the wall. That destructive action seems to expand into an all-consuming energy, Isadora basically tearing her bedroom to shreds as she progresses through the rest of the number. It’s a dizzying display, leaving her surrounded by debris by the time the rendition comes to an end.

She stands amidst the ruins of what her temporary home used to be, breathing heavy and clearly exhausted. Then she leans back against the door and slides into sitting, tucking her head into her knees.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

The silence of Eric’s office is a stark contrast to the anger of moments earlier, the only sound being the active tick of the wall clock. Maya is seated in the chair opposite him, Eric patiently attempting to get her to speak about how she’s dealing with this. Anything at all.

She’s not biting. It’s truly jarring to see Maya Hart so quiet, usually so animated and the natural center of attention. She’s just… void, having nothing to say because she has nothing to give.

Eric: I just want you to understand that there’s no wrong way to process this. Whatever you might be feeling -- sadness, guilt, anger -- all of that is valid. You have the right to feel it, whatever it might be. You don’t have to process it alone.

For now, it seems like she’s content to do so. She continues her silence, avoiding his gaze as she stares blankly at the floor. Eric frowns, obviously wishing there was more he could do.

Anne Marie, pre-lap: Please let me know if there’s anything you need.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

ANNE MARIE WINTHROP is visiting Jack, having brought him lunch from one of his favorite spots. She’s clearly there to offer him comfort, well aware of how difficult this week is going to be for him. Whatever she can do to help, she wants to be able to do it.

Jack claims he’ll be fine, right now all he can do is focus on work and try to keep the tides level. She exchanges a brisk kiss with him, heading out just as Lucas appears in the doorway for a meeting.

The two of them nearly bump into one another, looking at one another in confusion. Anne Marie is certainly no administrator Lucas recognizes, and Lucas wanders the main office too casually to be just some random student swinging by for a visit. Yet, they have absolutely no sense of who the other person is.

Jack seems to sense their trepidation, jumping to introduce them. Anne Marie offers a hand to shake as he does so, which Lucas looks at with a mixture of reluctance and amusement. Is she for real?

Jack: Lucas is one of the technicians in the junior class.

Anne Marie: Oh. Sorry if I’m being rude, I just -- Jack’s never mentioned you, is all.

Lucas, flatly: Yeah, well, there’s not much to say about me. [ shaking her hand ] I’m sort of like the gum under his shoe he just can’t scrape off.

Jack: That’s not true.

Lucas: It’s okay though. He’ll get rid of me some day, I’m sure. A little more scraping and scrubbing, and all grime comes off eventually.

Jack cuts him off, stating he’s said quite enough. An interesting first impression, that’s for sure. Anne Marie delicately removes her hand from his, raising her eyebrows at Jack and assuring him she’ll see him after work. Lucas waits until she’s gone to speak, sliding into his usual seat.

Lucas: You never mentioned you had a girlfriend.

Jack: That’s not exactly relevant information for you to know.

Lucas: We talk about everything else. You know everything about me. [ bluntly ] Shitty parents, booth hopping, failed not-relationships…

Jack waves him off, as that’s definitely not what he wanted to discuss. He cuts to the main reason he requested Lucas come by, checking in on how he’s handling the news about Farkle.

In an instant, Lucas clams up. He says he doesn’t see why he’s checking on him when there’s plenty of people way more distraught than he is. He and Farkle weren’t close. They weren’t even acquaintances. The only thing they had in common, in fact, was how hated they were by everyone else.

But that isn’t the point. When things like this happen, Jack states, people cope with it regardless of how immediately attached to the person they were. He wanted to talk with him and make sure he was okay, because he knows for a fact he won’t be going to chat with Eric. His behavior last week was indicative of that much. Lucas sheepishly claims he’s fine, and the only reason he acted that way was because he doesn’t need to have everyone in his business.

But it’s not convincing to Jack, and he continues to push out of concern until Lucas slightly cracks. He lashes out about yeah, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not because he gave a shit about Farkle, but sort of because of exactly that reason.

Lucas: So you want to know what I’m feeling? I’m feeling like absolute shit. But not for the reason everyone else is, the reason I should be, because I’m heartbroken or sad or suffered some great personal tragedy. And that’s all part of it -- I feel like shit because I am shit. I’m shit because this horrible thing happened, and all I can focus on is me. Because we were both trash, but if anyone deserved it… [ huffing ] Because for three years, I treated Farkle like shit, and I can’t stop doing it to everyone else, and now he --

Lucas can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He swallows whatever he was going to say, slouching back in his seat and pressing his knuckles to his chin. Jack attempts to process everything he just said, wondering where to even begin.

Lucas: Is that what you wanted me to say? Is that what you wanted to hear?

He gets up without waiting for a response, making a quick escape. Jack sits there, dumbstruck, not at all sure how to unpack all of that. Wanting to help, but not having any idea how -- not even sure he can. Perhaps he should’ve heeded Eric’s advice about not pushing conversations…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley is at Farkle’s locker, having been opened by Harley to be cleaned out and returned. She’s gathering his things in a bag, also getting a feel for what she’s working with in whatever her grand idea is.

She sighs, shifting her focus to the inside door. There are still those lingering photos from last year, striking a nerve in her she wasn’t expecting. She gently touches the Les Mis cast photo, then shifts her gaze to one he has of him and Maya. It was taken on their hooky day, and somehow captures just how greatly Farkle cherished their friendship before he blew it all up.

Riley’s eyes are glossy, but she’s pulled from the moment by the conversation of a couple seniors a few lockers down. They’re discussing how heavy the week has been because of the junior class, neglecting to realize that the locker of who they’re chatting about is only a few feet away.

They both agree they’re eager for the weekend to unwind for a hot minute, highlighting the underground NYU party that they both got the deets for. Yeah, they’re still in high school, but this is one of those ones where they let seniors in for a few bucks so long as they dress the part and don’t go too overboard.

Interesting information to overhear. Riley absorbs the details as she hides behind Farkle’s locker door, stopping herself just in time from subconsciously bending his photo of Maya.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The bell rings, pulling the junior class back together for lecture. They all saunter into the black box, the mood somber and all eyes avoiding the empty seats in the room. One less occupied than it should be. A couple of students are visibly shaken, like NICK YOGI who is far from his usual level of energetic, and HALEY FISHER, who is wiping tears on her sleeve a few rows back.

Harper steps up to the board and attempts to proceed on like business as usual, but she keeps losing her train of thought. She gets caught on Haley crying in the back of the room, wanting to say something, but remembering what Jack and Eric said about operating with caution.

Charlie: Miss Burgess? [ after she looks at him ] Are you alright?

No. No, Charlie, she’s not. As if the question is the trigger, Harper starts to cry. She apologizes and tries to pull it together, but then she’s sobbing harder. Totally eclipsed by the reality of what has happened and unable to run away from it any longer.

The A class stares at her, uncertain what to do or how to respond. The room feels frozen in the agony of it, until Shawn steps up and joins Harper at the front of the classroom. He leans in close, muttering to her with a semblance of privacy.

Shawn: Go. I’ve got them, just go.

Harper blinks at him, stunned, but takes his directive. She rushes out of the room, still trying to pull herself together. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Shawn awkwardly clears his throat and then attempts to take over the lesson to the best of his ability.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Catching up with the junior A class, they’re scattered about the auditorium during breakout sessions. But no one is actually rehearsing anything, mostly just coming together to comfort one another. DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON are in the dressing room hall, Sarah hugging Darby as she cries.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the wings, Zay, Yindra, and Nigel are seated on some spare acting blocks. Charlie and Clarissa are in the backstage area, comforting a distraught Haley who cannot seem to stop crying. In the back center section of the house, the techies are huddled together. NATE MARTINEZ has his arm around DAVE WILLIAMS, who is flushed and rubbing his eyes. JEFF MONROE is massaging Jade’s shoulders while she continues to costume in spite of how she’s actively crying, preferring to focus on something productive rather than wallow.

Dylan breaks from the techie huddle, gently scratching Asher’s back as he passes him to let him know he’s going. He makes his way back down through the house and up onto the stage, heading to the other side of the wings in pursuit of something or someone specific.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

He finds who he’s looking for soon enough. Isadora is no longer so in control of her emotions, aggressively sawing at a piece of wood with safety goggles on. Dylan claims he’s happy he found her, as he wanted to see how she was doing. He knows she’s been kind of dealing with a lot of shit lately, let alone on top of this.

Isadora, unimpressed: Oh, do you now?

Isadora pulls off her goggles and steps away from the wood, avoiding looking at him. He persists in expressing his concern anyway, stating that they’re friends and it’s important for people not to feel alone right now.

Unintentionally, this comment is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Isadora snaps, saying it’s a shock for him to call them that when they’ve hardly interacted much in the last few months. Where was he when the entire techie crew decided to cold shoulder her? Or after the blow up in class when her mom visited -- he sure didn’t come running after her then. He didn’t try to get Lucas to lighten up on her, none of them thought to invite her to their new techie holiday plans.

Then it just spirals from there, Isadora no longer able to keep the lid on her emotions about anything. What’s going on with the Van Herschings, how her friendship with Lucas has deteriorated, the fact that she can’t seem to get the balance between two worlds right. How she knew something was up with Farkle, and she tried to reach out, but she didn’t do it right because she never does anything right. She could’ve done more, and yet she fucked up that too.

Dylan listens without argument to all of it, an unfair but willing recipient of all her anger. He lets her snarl at him and throw blame around and completely meltdown until she runs out of steam, collapsing down against the chain link that separates the costuming supplies from the set building supplies. She descends into tears, hiding in her arms and at rock bottom.

For a beat, uncertainty. Then, without a word, Dylan walks over and joins her on the floor under the shadow of the costume loft. He doesn’t touch her, or offer an uplifting word. He simply sits with her, being another presence in the room. There with her to sort through all that turmoil.

Tangible proof that she’s not as alone as she feels.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

ANGELA MOORE returns home, greeting Shawn who is working on the couch. She tiredly explains that she went to pay a visit to the Minkus family.

Shawn: How are they?

Angela: About how you’d expect.

She settles onto the couch with him, allowing him to drape an arm around her shoulders. She cuddles close, shaking her head and claiming that she can’t imagine what they’re going through right now. She only knows what she’s struggling to grapple with, and that’s already difficult enough. Shawn nods along, kissing her temple.

Angela: I just keep thinking… if I hadn’t gone away. If I hadn’t taken the job, you know, and I was still his teacher…

Shawn argues against the train of thought before it even starts. There’s no sense in trying to figure out if one or two tiny decisions were deciding factors in something like this -- and they rarely ever are anyway. She was his favorite teacher, after all, if anything she already did more good for him than anyone else.

Angela sighs, trying to accept that as truth. She asks how everyone else at AAA is doing, and Shawn admits it’s tough. He mentions what happened with Harper, speaking sympathetically about his co-teacher for perhaps the first time. As he’s doing so, the reality of their warped dynamic seems to hit him full force.

Shawn: �� fuck. I’ve got to fix this, Ange.

Her expression says it all. Maybe so. He gives her another long kiss on the forehead before climbing to his feet.

INT. FOSTER HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is meeting with her SOCIAL WORKER, the latter explaining what this process will be like as she is relocated. She’s hardly listening though, as this is far from the first time she’s heard the spiel.

When the caretaker explains that she will be squatting at the Van Herschings until she’s assigned a new home, that seems to strike something in Isadora. From the way her eyes are burning, it’s clear that doesn’t resonate with her. No way is she going to just hang around in a place where it’s been made clear she’s no longer welcome.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley is pacing the living area, on the phone with TOPANGA LAWRENCE. She’s explaining the laborious process of moving upstate, only switching topics to what is going on with Riley far too long into the conversation.

Riley, flatly: Well, I don’t know if you heard, but one of my classmates overdosed. So.

Although her advice is well-meant, Topanga’s immediate response is to start problem-solving, which is not what Riley wants to hear. She can’t even get a word in about her project for Farkle, Topanga dominating the conversation with thoughts on how to cope and questioning the environment of the school that would push a student to that.

Topanga: You know, there really are some excellent schools here upstate. If you’re ever feeling as though things at the art school are just too hectic…

A nice suggestion, but exactly the opposite of what Riley needs right then. She’s sick of jumping from place to place only for it to constantly fall apart -- what she wants is for the home she’s built at AAA to become hospitable again. All in all, the conversation leaves Riley feeling more claustrophobic, directionless, endlessly doing the wrong thing regardless of how much right she’s trying to do.

She hangs up, collapsing into the bay window and looking out towards the twinkling lights of the city. Still bustling with activity in spite of how the world seems to have frozen around them.

She could sure afford to unwind for a hot minute…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya’s phone is ringing, Katy lighting up the screen once again. Maya reaches out and hits ignore, stuffing her phone in her pocket.

Her expression is still hard to read as she gathers her duffle bag onto her shoulder. She’s dressed in dark clothing and obviously on a mission, no longer doing nothing but gearing up to certainly do something.

She crawls out onto the fire escape with her duffle, disappearing into the night.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT

Lucas is seated out on his fire escape, also looking out into the night. He’s clenching his jaw, picking at the scabs on his hands again, seeming restless and a far cry from coping well over someone he wasn’t all that close to.

Swiftly, he pulls out his phone and dials a number. He waits impatiently until they pick up, eyes shining with mischief.

Lucas: You busy? [ a beat ] I gotta do something.

INT. GARDNER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

The Gardner family is assembled for dinner, ELEANOR GARDNER leading them in prayer before they settle in for the meal. This evening is a bit out of the ordinary, however, as Eleanor includes a plea of forgiveness for Farkle’s mortal soul and to have mercy on him. Charlie opens his eyes in shock, blinking at his mother as she wraps it up with prayers towards the Minkus family and a curt amen.

Charlie is the only one not to repeat the word. Eleanor glances at him, surprised to see the disturbed expression on his face. She questions what’s going on, and Charlie asks what the heck she meant by including Farkle and asking for his “forgiveness.”

Eleanor treads cautiously, understanding that Charlie is likely overwhelmed by what’s happened and thusly pardons his attitude. She reminds him that suicide is a mortal sin, one of the gravest a human can commit as it goes against God’s power over human life. She’s merely hoping the Lord will take mercy on him when the time comes for his judgment.

Charlie: Well, don’t you think that’s a bit cold?

Eleanor: I think it’s a bit cold to decide that your wants and desires are greater than the will of the Lord.

Charlie: Maybe, but… don’t you think he deserves a little more sympathy? You don’t know what was going on with him, or even who he was. The Bible even says that mental health can absolve responsibility of it as a mortal sin --

Eleanor: Which is up for Him to decide, not me, and certainly not you.

Charlie wants to say more, but he finds he’s out of words. He just feels sick, staring at his mom as if he doesn’t even recognize her. Rosie looks back and forth between them, uncertain. Ambrose starts to say something to assuage the tension, but Charlie beats him to it. He pushes away from the table.

Charlie, disgusted: I need to be excused.

Eleanor: Perhaps that’s a good idea.

He marches out of the room without looking back. Eleanor and Ambrose watch him go, both appearing concerned. Rosie and Daisy keep their heads down, pushing around their food but not eating it.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie escapes into his room, slamming his door behind him. He paces restlessly before flopping down on his bed, grabbing his pillow and screaming into it to muffle the sound.

When he puts it down, he pushes himself back into a sitting position. He runs his hands through his hair, letting out an exhausted exhale. His gaze drifts out his balcony and towards the lights of the city, Charlie getting lost in the view for a moment.

Slowly, his expressions hardens to a glare.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Lot of Livin’ To Do” as performed by Bye Bye Birdie Original Broadway Cast || Performed by AAA Juniors

Charlie kicks off the first verse, on edge and bristling with energy. He pushes himself off his bed and into a pace, then seems to be struck with an idea. He quickly packs a bag and climbs out onto his balcony.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - NIGHT

Charlie lands outside his balcony and looks up at it as he backs onto the sidewalk, finishing off his verse as he sprints towards his car.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley takes up the brunt of the next verse, singing about “men of 19 or 20, who are suave and reckless and true.” She’s dressed up and looking glamorous in bold makeup, a leather jacket she took from Maya’s closet, and semi form-fitting clothes, but she also… doesn’t really look like herself. She looks as though she’s trying to be something she’s not -- which is precisely what she’s doing.

She musters her confidence in the mirror before grabbing her purse and clambering out of the bay window.

INT. FOSTER HOME - NIGHT

Isadora is following the same routine. She has stuffed everything she cares about into a backpack and an overnight bag, clambering down the stairs and marching into the night without anyone noticing. Not intending to ever come back.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Kicking off a pattern for the episode, the rest of the number is split between events happening in real time, and a fictionalized performance on the AAA stage. In this case, that performance belongs to the A class (sans everyone featured out and about), Nigel taking on the vocal heft of the performance.

The strangest thing about their otherwise enjoyable rendition is how jarring it is to see Asher without Dylan. Asher is amidst his classmates, dancing with Jade and the other techies in the grounded stage performance, but his boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

That’s because Dylan, on the other hand, has met up with Lucas and they’re jogging the back streets of a wealthier district in the city. They’re alight with chaotic energy, as Lucas is kicking up his thievery to even higher levels tonight. Dylan tosses him a tool as they come around one of the fancy, shiny sports cars sitting parked on the street, Lucas starting the process of breaking into the vehicle.

He succeeds, pulling open the door and disabling the security mechanism swifter than it can react. He and Dylan exchange grins, Lucas climbing behind the wheel.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Maya has taken up residency in an alleyway, a busy street just overhead. She’s hard at work, opening her duffle to reveal an assortment of spray paint. Her expression is removed and determined, setting to work as she starts graffiting right over the camera.

EXT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Zay’s car is the only one in the driveway as Charlie pulls up on the curb, abruptly killing the engine. He jogs up to the door, knocking urgently. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, unable to stay still.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

Zay descends from upstairs and pulls open the door in confusion, finding Charlie on the doorstep. Not even a second passes before Charlie steps inside and pulls Zay into a kiss, showing zero hesitation in initiating.

Something about this kiss is different, too. Insistent. Impatient. Zay is startled for a moment until he catches up and kisses him back, shutting the front door.

INT/EXT. NEW YORK STREETS / STOLEN CAR - NIGHT

Lucas and Dylan seem to be having the time of their lives, speeding down the night streets in their joy ride vehicle. Dylan shouts into the night and nudges Lucas on the arm, the latter grinning and picking up speed.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Isadora is wandering the streets, obviously not sure where the hell she’s going to go. She’s so distracted she almost walks right into the streets, only getting startled out of it when a police siren snaps her out of it.

She hops back onto the sidewalk as the cruiser breezes past, lights blinking and sirens blaring.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Things have grown serious for Zay and Charlie as well. They’re deep into kissing, but Charlie still seems to be operating with a more frantic tenor than normal. There’s a moment where Zay pulls back and starts to question if this is okay but Charlie steers right past it, pulling him back into it.

Kisses deepen… shirts come off… Zay fumbles back onto the mattress and Charlie follows...

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Maya is finishing up her project, startled out of her focus by the distant sound of sirens. She scrambles to gather her things and takes off into the darkness.

EXT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Riley approaches the entrance to the underground college party, being held at what seems like an old warehouse of some kind. She makes tentative eye contact with the older guy monitoring the doors, but he doesn’t pay her any more attention than the other college girls slipping inside.

She smiles to herself, descending down the steps and into the party scene.

INT/EXT. NEW YORK STREETS / STOLEN CAR - NIGHT

The fun comes to an end about the same time as the song, the A class underscoring the blare of sirens as they catch up to Lucas and Dylan. The world around them reflects blue and red as Lucas stares at the rear view mirror, expression shifting from thrilled to alarmed.

Lucas, fiercely: Shit.

They pull over. Dylan glances over his shoulder at the lights and then back to Lucas, panicked.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Eric is still at school, working overtime and cleaning up his office as an excuse to avoid everything else. His fragile bubble pops though as he finishes clearing his desk, stumbling upon some old notes he made to himself about Farkle and his behavior.

He stares at it, hands shaking. His expression twitches, betraying his strong facade.

INT. HARPER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Harper is pacing her apartment, on the phone with STELLA CASTILLO. She assures her that she doesn’t need to come home from her touring gig early, the situation is tough but she will handle it just fine. She misses her though, and can’t wait to see her again.

There’s a knock at the door, a surprise to Harper. She lets Stella know she has to go, hanging up and going to answer the door.

Shawn is on the other side, obviously a shock to her. He acts nonchalant as he greets her with an eyebrow raise, awkward but just charming enough that he can pull it off.

Shawn: Wanna grab a drink?

Off Harper’s uncertain expression, as “Die Young” floats in --

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Die Young” as performed by Kesha || Performed by Riley Matthews

Speaking of drinking, the college party is in full swing! Riley is right in the center of it all, leading a spunky and high energy rendition of this pop classic. She’s parading around with red solo cup in hand, dancing with friendly college girls, having a rocking good time. She also catches the eye of a handful of boys, being a bit flirtatious in her devil-may-care state. There are older men of 19 or 20…

It’s the most wild she’s ever been, and it’s obvious she’s reveling in it. Accommodating and unassuming Riley Matthews, finally doing something because she damn well feels like it.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Jack and Anne Marie are having a quiet conversation, interrupted by a knock at the door. Jack goes to answer it, unexpectedly finding a winded and very flushed Eric standing outside.

Eric, broken: It’s my fault. It was my fault.

Jack allows him inside the apartment, guiding him in and immediately trying to get him to calm down. But Eric is in emotional hysterics, doing everything aside from actually crying. He can hardly breathe, he’s tripping over his own words, the works. Jack exchanges a look with Anne Marie, not sure what to say.

She gets the message, grabbing her coat and purse and stating that she’ll give them some space. As she goes, she gently touches Eric’s shoulder and expresses her sincere condolences for everything that has happened. Then she exchanges a cheek kiss with Jack, stepping out and leaving them alone.

Eric grows more frantic, totally incomprehensible. Jack guides him towards the couch and gets him to settle, trying to get him to listen instead of spiraling out of control.

Jack: Eric.

Eric: How many times did we say we needed to bring him in to chat? How many times did I remind myself that I needed to see him but let it get brushed aside by something else? How many times did I meet with him, only to let him go without making any progress?

Jack: Eric --

Eric: We knew, Jack! I knew that something was wrong, I saw the signs, and I didn’t act quick enough! I failed him! It’s my fault, it’s my fault he --

Jack: Eric!

Jack grabs his shoulders, jostling him lightly to get him to pause. He does, allowing Jack the chance to retort. He shifts one his hands to grip the side of his neck, locking eyes with him.

Jack: This is not your fault.

Eric looks like he wants to argue, but he’s out of words. He stares at Jack, eyes glassy and still trembling. Jack holds his gaze… and then pats his shoulder gently.

Jack: Let me make some coffee.

INT. NYPD PRECINCT - HOLDING CELL - NIGHT

Dylan and Lucas are seated on the bench, the former looking nervous while the latter is slouched back against the concrete wall, resigned. Dylan is fidgety, twisting the bracelets on his wrist and tapping his feet and bouncing his leg.

Dylan: This is bad. This is so bad.

Lucas, sharply: Would you calm down? We’re white, we’ll be fine.

The door opens, an OFFICER entering and unlocking the cell. She informs them that someone paid their bail, but they have paperwork to process so they absolutely should not leave the precinct. However, they can retrieve their things and meet with their bail out. Lucas and Dylan exchange a look, following the officer out of the cell.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Riley is just finishing pouring herself another drink when THOR (20) sidles up to join her. He’s attractive, sandy-haired, just the right amount of charming. He engages Riley in conversation, asking her a little more about who she is and commenting that he hasn’t seen her around before.

The conversation seems fun for her. She enjoys playing mysterious, leaving him with little answers but accepting his invitation to go dance.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric has had the chance to settle, no longer frantic but instead having transitioned into a numb sort of state. Jack returns with steaming mugs, handing one to Eric who takes it robotically. Jack sits down next to him, placing the coffee on the table.

Jack: Do you have any idea how much I respect you? Especially now.

Jack points out how hard the last week was on all of them, but especially Eric. And now he has to carry his feelings about it all on top of the collective school emotions, hardly getting any time to process it for himself. So it’s no wonder that he’s feeling overwhelmed --

Eric: I could’ve done something. I could’ve stopped it.

Jack: You know that’s not true. You know that’s not how these things work.

Eric: It was my job. It’s my job to protect them, and I failed.

Jack: Eric, listen to me. [ leaning forward ] This is not your fault. You did not fail. And if you did, then it’s on both of us. It’s both of our jobs to take care of those students. So if it’s on you, then it’s on me too.

He reaches forward and pats Eric’s knee, getting his attention. Eric stares at his hand, then slowly lifts his gaze to meet his eyes.

Jack: You know we work together. We should’ve tackled this together, and we’re going to handle it together. [ softly ] You are not going to face this alone.

Eric hangs on his every word. There’s something about the moment that’s deeper than just a moment of camaraderie, one that neither of them can place but that certainly exists between them… when Jack’s cell phone rings, making both of them jump. He digs for it in his pocket.

Jack, apologetically: Could be the Minkus --

Eric nods, understanding. Jack jumps to his feet, frowning at the number on his caller ID as he steps away to answer it. Eric takes the moment to collect himself, letting out a sigh and hiding his head in his hands.

He straightens up when Jack shouts from the kitchen, startling him.

Jack: He what?

Jack flurries back into the room a second later, scrambling to find his coat. Eric asks what the hell is going on, but in his frenzy Jack isn’t very helpful.

Jack: I have to -- Lucas. He -- I need to go to the station --

Eric: The station? What --

Jack: Please, feel free to stay as long as you need. I’ll be back soon. [ a beat ] Hopefully. Shit. Jesus --

Jack exits in a huff, leaving Eric alone in his apartment.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Dancing with a cute stranger at a hazy college party is all fun and games… until it isn’t. Although it doesn’t seem all that out of place considering how other duos around them are acting, when Thor makes an unexpected move and kisses Riley’s neck she clearly isn’t on the same page. She might be tipsy, but she’s cognizant enough to know that’s not the direction she wants to go in.

She jerks away on instinct, Thor still keeping a hand on her arm. He asks her if everything is okay, seemingly innocent. She clears her throat and searches for an excuse, laughing nervously and stating that she doesn’t feel much like dancing anymore.

In the midst of backing away, somehow Thor manages to back her into a dead end against a wall. He suggests that they can go somewhere else if she wants, not reading into her discomfort despite how obvious it feels. Hands shaking and feeling distinctly cornered, Riley grasps for any excuse she can think of.

Riley: I, um… I have to use the restroom.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - BATHROOM - NIGHT

Riley skirts past a couple of drunk college girls, ducking into a stall and trying to catch her breath. She starts to tear up but talks herself down, knowing she needs to keep her cool. She needs to stay calm, and then she needs to figure out an escape plan.

After a moment, she pulls out her phone. She fumbles to open it, going to her messages and scrolling back to find the right contact.

INT. NYPD PRECINCT - LOBBY - NIGHT

Dylan and Lucas emerge from the hall with the officer, retrieving their items from a plastic bag from when they were arrested. As they direct their attention to the main waiting area, the identity of who bailed them out quickly becomes clear.

Asher marches away from the counter, eyes wide and voice frayed.

Asher: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?

He’s interrupted before he can even finish the question, Dylan barreling him with a bone-crushing hug. He embraces him with everything in him, obviously so relieved he’s there.

Lucas looks a little less thrilled. He stares at them, confusion shifting to defensive disdain.

Lucas: You called Asher?

Asher pulls back from the hug first, glancing between them. Dylan speaks before he can address Lucas, asking how the hell he paid to bail them out.

Asher, reluctantly: … the fund.

Dylan’s face drops, mortified. The last thing Asher should be doing is dipping into his college fund to get them out of trouble -- especially after expressly stating he needed space.

Dylan: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call. They said call someone, and my first thought was --

Asher: It’s fine. But I’ll ask again. [ looking right at Lucas ] What the hell happened?

Lucas holds his glare, not knowing what to say. He’s saved by the bell, or in this case, his phone ringing. He steps away to answer, turning away from Dylan and Asher. As he frowns at the caller ID and answers the call, in the background Asher takes Dylan’s face and questions whether or not he’s okay.

Lucas: Hello? Riley? [ a beat ] Wait, what? [ a beat ] What?

Dylan and Asher shift their attention to Lucas, watching him warily as he starts to pace. Whatever he’s hearing on the other end, it can’t be good news.

Lucas: Stay where you are. Don’t talk to them. Where are you? [ a beat ] Okay, stay put. It’s going to be okay. I’m coming. It’s going to be fine.

Lucas hangs up, alight with restless energy again. He marches back over to the other two, exhaling shortly before locking eyes with Asher.

Lucas: I need your car.

Asher: I’m -- what? No.

Lucas: I need to go. Riley is -- I have to go now.

Dylan: What’s wrong with Riley?

Lucas: I have to go. Give me your keys.

Asher, stunned: You’re seriously telling me --

Dylan: They said we couldn’t leave --

Lucas: GIVE ME YOUR KEYS!

Asher flinches, reflexively tossing them in his direction. Lucas catches them, not even saying thanks as he sprints out the doors. Dylan and Asher whip around to watch him go, wearing matching shocked expressions.

Dylan, with dread: We’re so fucked.

Asher glances at him then back to where Lucas left, slowly shifting from shocked to pissed.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric has returned from the kitchen with another cup of coffee, familiar enough with Jack’s apartment from all the hours they’ve spent working together. He settles back onto the couch, breathing deeply and trying to get himself to relax.

He shifts his focus to the paperwork Jack has on the table -- the student files of the junior class. Likely in preparation for their senior summary reports. He flips through them idly, smiling lightly at the grinning portraits of the junior class and their photos from the last three years.

Eric stops cold when he gets to Farkle, smiling smugly back at him from his sophomore student portrait. There’s a subtle shift, just barely perceptible, between that image and the one from junior year. Eric swallows, gently putting down the report back onto the table. He puts it right next to Isadora, and Charlie on the other side.

All of them, right there in front of him. All having no idea how much they mean to him, how desperately he wants to protect all of them like his own family.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “These Are My Children” as performed by FAME Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Eric Matthews

Eric kicks off this impressive vocal performance, sorting through the student files as he articulates how important this role and his influence on the children means to him. He uses the full expanse of Jack’s living room to work through his emotion, delivering a powerful rendition.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

In keeping with the other performances of the evening, the number is split half between his location and half on the AAA stage, railing into the performance with everything he’s got. It’s cathartic, at the very least, and it certainly makes the point crystal clear.

The students at Adams are his children. And he never wants to let another one slip through the cracks ever again.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “HUMBLE.” as performed by Kendrick Lamar || Instrumental

INT. ASHER’S CAR - NIGHT

Lucas is parked outside the college party, staring at the building with obvious reluctance and disdain. He can hear the bass thumping from outside, and a crowded, loud, rowdy hole in the wall is the last place he should be when he’s already on the block for the joy ride.

But he goes anyway. Lucas scowls and climbs out of the car, slamming the door.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

From the moment he enters the space, it’s overwhelming. Lucas frowns at the haze of smoke and odor of alcohol and weed, weaving his way through the crowd and scanning for Riley. College girls spot him and share interested looks and giggles, but he doesn’t pay any attention.

Finally, he finds her.

Lucas: Riley -- Riley!

He pushes through the crowd to get to her, Riley whipping around when she hears his voice. Her eyes are wide and uncertain.

Riley: Lucas?

He finally makes it to her side, taking her arm and pulling her from the fray. He double takes when he actually gets a good look at her, taking in her… new style. He seems a bit torn on whether or not he should consider it attractive or not, and well aware that this isn’t the time to be thinking about that anyway, but Thor addressing them grabs his attention before he can make a decision either way.

It’s not just Thor, but Thor with friends. There’s about three of them now, and Thor questions where Riley is going so soon. Lucas can tell from her body language and the way she kinda ducks behind him that they’re what caused her to call him in the first place. He does his best to keep things from escalating, calmly explaining that they’re just going to head out.

Thor: Oh, well, you don’t have to rush out. I thought we were having a good time. Weren’t we? [ off Riley’s hesitant expression ] Of course she’s shy now. It’s okay, you don’t have to get bashful around your boyfriend.

Friend, slurring: Didn’t have those problems earlier.

Friend 2: Thor was just telling us how friendly you are. Thought we’d come get to know you ourselves.

Riley looks like she’s going to be sick. Lucas narrows his eyes, fighting a losing battle in keeping control of his anger.

Thor: It’s not like it’s a problem, you’re welcome to join us. [ loftily ] Thought we might have more fun as a group, actually.

Lucas, sharply: Yeah? You think it’s fun to hit on a minor?

That comment seems to hit something in Thor’s drunk friends, but they’re not sober enough to remember why that should be problematic. There’s a little more of a tense back and forth until Riley tries to end it, taking Lucas’s arm and starting to pull him away.

Riley: Lucas, let’s just go. Come on.

Friend: Yeah, go on then, bulldog. Woof!

Lucas is scowling, but he follows Riley’s directive. It’s only after they’ve turned away that Thor makes a crucial mistake.

Thor: Her loss. Fine, then. Go be a nobody somewhere else, slut!

Everything happens so fast. In a second, Lucas has spun back around and thrown a punch, hitting Thor so hard and quick that he falls backwards into his friends. As they’re reacting and regaining their bearings, Lucas doubles back to Riley and starts to drag her out of there.

Lucas: Come on. Come on!

Riley tears her gaze away from the carnage, taking his hands and holding on for dear life as he shoves his way through the crowd.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay and Charlie have evidently been making bold moves of their own. The untidy quality of the bed sheets is enough of an indication, although Charlie is in the process of fixing them for the sake of fixing something. He might want to start with his hair, which is equally messy, but that seems to be far from his mind. He’s fidgety, looking caught between guilt and discomfort as he restlessly makes the bed.

Zay returns from the hall, having just done some tidying up himself and pulling on a sweatshirt. He tells Charlie not to worry about it, in much lighter spirits than his boyfriend. Charlie can hardly look at him, swiveling away once his distraction of nitpicking has been taken away.

Sensing that something might be up but not wanting to jinx things, Zay searches for upbeat ways to break the silence. He’s rambling, almost, scrambling for anything to say that will make the oddly serious air between them disappear.

Charlie, suddenly: This wasn’t good.

Zay: … well, I don’t know if I would say that. Sure wasn’t perfect, but uh, you know, I don’t think it’s necessarily supposed to be. First time. [ a beat ] Like a lot of things, I think it just takes practice --

Charlie: No, no, not that. It was… fine. I mean, it was okay. I don’t -- it wasn’t good that we did this. That I did this.

It grows quiet. Zay chews the inside of his cheek, obviously trying to grapple with the unpleasant turn this is taking. He isn’t sure what to say.

Zay: If you mean… if this is about the “Heavenly Father,” or whatever --

Charlie: No, it’s not that either. It’s just… I just think that… [ exhaling ] I don’t think I did this for the right reasons.

Zay frowns. Doing what they decided to do tonight is already an overly emotional endeavor, and that’s heightening the way they’re reacting to one another. But he knows he doesn’t want the conversation to go where it’s going.

Zay, quietly: … you said it was okay. I asked you like, a thousand times, because I wanted it to be okay --

Charlie: I know. And when I said it --

Zay: I didn’t even know if -- I wasn’t sure either, you know? [ quicker ] I didn’t know if I was ready either but I figured if you were, if you seemed so sure, then --

Charlie: It’s not that I… it didn’t have anything to do with you.

Zay: Then why? Why would you do it if it wasn’t about you and me?

Charlie grimaces, running his hands through his hair. He snaps out a response, explaining what his mom said at the dinner table about sin and this backwards way of thinking about Farkle, and he can’t stop thinking about Farkle in general, and how life is so fucking short and abrupt and holds all these choices that he has no control over. So he just… he just wanted to do something. He wanted to choose to do something and have control over it and feel like it was okay.

Zay, stammering: And you didn’t think -- you didn’t think to tell me about that?

Charlie: I don’t know! [ voice cracking ] I just knew that I wanted to be with you, and I wanted to feel something, and have control over something, and not have my mom’s voice in my head confirming that empathy means nothing if the Lord doesn’t agree and how I can never fucking tell her about this --

Zay, exasperated: Are you ever going to tell anybody?

That’s enough to stop Charlie dead in his tracks. Zay is looking at him, vulnerable and worked up, and Charlie wants to be able to tell him what he wants to hear. Even in the midst of how confusing and overwhelming it all is, he wants to be able to give him that reassurance.

Instead, he hesitates. He hesitates just a second too long.

Zay’s lip trembles, expression shifting as he attempts to keep it together. He shakes his head, turning away from him and letting out a shaky breath.

Charlie: Zay, I’m not saying that… like I said, this doesn’t have anything to do with you.

Zay: It should. This is one of the things that should.

Charlie: I didn’t mean to --

Zay: You know that I don’t… I would never expect you to… but we’re supposed to be doing this as a team. We’re supposed to be together on this.

Charlie, tearing up: We are --

Zay: And it’s supposed to be leading towards something! If we care about each other and this means something it’s supposed to be moving towards a future -- you even said just last week that…

He can’t get his thoughts together. He can’t wrap his head around how spectacularly this has spun out, how he feels closer to him than ever but also betrayed and confused and a cocktail of every other emotion they’ve made each other feel in the last eight months.

Zay: What are we even doing?

Charlie shakes his head, stepping forward and taking Zay’s arm.

Charlie: We are -- Zay, listen to me. Listen. [ choked up ] Zay, I --

Zay: What?

Zay whips around to face him, meeting his gaze. Not letting him hide, waiting for him to say what he hasn’t been able to say.

Zay, softer: … what do you want to say to me, Charlie?

Charlie stares at him, glossy-eyed. Mouth parted open, the words on the tip of his tongue -- what he feels so strongly it’s consumed him inside and out.

But he can’t say it. He can’t put it into words the way Zay needs to hear.

Zay nods, not surprised. He gently pulls his arm from his grasp, turning away from him and wiping at his eyes. Charlie stands frozen, unable to move.

Zay: [ almost inaudible ] I think you should go.

Charlie, tearfully: Zay --

Zay: Please. [ a beat ] Just go.

Charlie waits a moment longer, hoping things will go back to before. Hoping somehow everything will go right side up again, that they’ll be the same… but it doesn’t. It won’t. He swallows back his tears and robotically gathers his things, glancing over his shoulder at Zay one more time before he disappears from the room.

Zay grits his teeth until he hears the front door close. Then he lets out a broken exhale, collapsing onto the bed and hiding his head in his hands.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Secret Love Song, Pt. II” as performed by Little Mix || Performed by Zay Babineaux

Delicately singing the opening notes of this coveted Little Mix ballad, Zay works his way into what is his most heart-wrenching and emotional performance to date. There’s no choreography or extravagance to distract from the killer vocals, just raw emotion and impressive pipes.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

His performance follows the same pattern as the others, splitting its time between his grounded location and the imaginary AAA stage.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay rounds out the piece by approaching his window, looking out and seeing Charlie in his car. He’s clearly crying, mirroring Zay’s own tears, but right now there’s too much distance between them. Too much weight from hasty decisions that they can’t take back or redo.

He pulls it together and drives away, Zay watching him go. Then he slides back down against the wall, leaning his head against the window sill.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

There’s a knock at the door, BLUE NGUYEN jogging in from the bedroom to answer. He looks through the peephole and then pulls open the door, a windswept and tired Isadora standing there with her bags on the doorstep.

Neither of them say anything. Blue steps back and lets her into the apartment without hesitation, gently shutting the door behind them.

INT. ASHER’S CAR - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Love Like This (Acoustic)” as performed by Kodaline || Instrumental

Lucas has parked a ways away from the party in a mostly empty parking lot. The music plays softly over the radio, set to one of Asher’s usual stations, but otherwise it’s quiet.

They aren’t looking at one another. Lucas is chewing on his thumbnail, keeping his gaze trained out the window. Riley is making herself as small as possible after the evening she’s had, hugging herself and slouched low in the passenger seat.

After a long moment, Lucas lets out a sigh.

Lucas: What the hell were you thinking?

Oop. Wrong thing to say. Riley looks at him, staring in disbelief.

Riley: What was I thinking? [ a beat, louder ] What was I thinking? You’ve got to be kidding me!

Valid reaction. Lucas cringes as Riley lays into him, straightening up and reminding him of all the stupid choices he’s been making in the last few months. The terrible attitude. The stealing. The shutting down and shutting out of people who actually care about him, who have done nothing but try and help him and he’s given back bullshit.

Riley: So you have the nerve to ask me what I was thinking? No. Sorry. I know this was dumb, and I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I had to pay for it. But I am not going to take a lecture from you!

[ There’s a long silence. Riley huffs, slouching back against the seat and crossing her arms tighter across her chest. ]

Lucas: … you’re right.

Riley: And I think -- [ realizing what he said ] What?

Lucas, defeated: You’re right. I’m stupid. I’ve been… I’ve been fucking up non-stop basically since summer. [ a beat ] Most of my life, if we’re being honest, but… whatever. That’s not the point.

Lucas goes on to repeat that she’s right, and he knows he’s fucked everything up. Now all there’s left to do is deal with it, regardless of how much he wishes he could keep running from it. Riley examines him for a long moment.

Riley: Well, if tonight demonstrated anything, I think it’s safe to say that running sort of creates more problems than it fixes.

Hard lesson to learn, but it seems they’ve both made it there eventually. They absorb the sentiment for a moment before Lucas speaks again, asking what he actually cares about. He looks at her, speaking more gently.

Lucas: Are you okay?

Riley, exhaling: [ after a long silence ] No. I’m not.

[ Lucas frowns. It looks like he wants to do something, but clearly has no idea what or how anything he might say or do could be remotely helpful. ]

Riley: But I will be. [ with a scoff ] Someone has to be.

Sad, but true. And it’s the mentality she will survive by, so she’s not letting it go quite yet. Lucas nods, shifting his gaze back out the dashboard window.

This gives her the chance to look at him again. She takes him in, finding the words she wants to say.

Riley: Thank you for coming. When I called. You didn’t have to --

Lucas, without hesitation: Of course I did.

He shifts his intense expression back to her, immediately softening when they lock eyes. It’s the first time they’ve really looked at one another all night -- it’s the first time they’ve really looked at one another in what feels like too long --and as soon as they do it’s difficult to look away. A million and one feelings floating between them, left unspoken.

Lucas manages to look away. He focuses on the car, remembering everything waiting for him back at the precinct. He murmurs about getting Riley home and turns on the engine, reaching for the gear shift.

Riley meets him there, touching his hand and keeping him from putting the car in drive. Lucas freezes and glances down at their hands, then at her, uncertain.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at him, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Keeping her hand on top of his, finding warmth and comfort in it even in the midst of so much chaos and darkness.

Lucas lets his gaze drift back to their hands. He hesitates… then flips his hand over and links their fingers together. Holding her securely, confirming the notion that she’s not alone.

The two of them sit there in silence a while longer, fingers intertwined and thoughts left unsaid.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

A refreshing change of pace, the rustic-style bar is bustling and lively with adults enjoying their Friday evening. Harper and Shawn are two of those responsible adults, clinking their shot glasses together before downing another at their high table. Shawn nearly chokes on his and Harper cracks up, signaling that both of them might already be a bit tipsy.

Shawn: You can hold your liquor, Burgess. [ coughing ] I’ll give ya that.

Harper: [ with a shrug ] I went to Triple A.

Shawn: Touche.

Harper smirks, picking at their shared nacho platter. There’s a beat of silence between them, then Shawn opts to speak.

Shawn: You’re right about a lot of things, I’ll give you that too. Mostly about me.

Harper, cringing: Well, I don’t know if --

Shawn: No, no, don’t diminish yourself on my account. Stuff you said to me… [ taking a sip of his beer ] Spot on, basically. Except the neckbeard comment. I will argue that.

Harper lets out a laugh, somewhere between amused and nervous. Shawn grows more serious, waiting for her to make eye contact with him.

Shawn: Truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Never have. I got this job because my brother did me a favor, chance to get my life back on track, and I figured okay, sweet. I’ll get upright, find a better alternative, and blow this joint.

Harper: But…

Shawn: But those kids, man. They’re devious. They get in your head, and it’s like, suddenly you care about them. Suddenly you care more about their well-being than your own, and you can’t just walk away from that. [ a beat ] So I’m still here, but that doesn’t mean I know jackshit. Certainly not anymore than you do, even though I sure felt the need to make it seem like I did. [ a beat, sincerely ] And I’m sorry about that. You got thrown in the deep end, and I didn’t throw you a life preserver. That’s on me. And I’m even more sorry it took something like… all this to snap me out of it.

Harper absorbs this, trying to determine whether or not it’s genuine. Then she nods, taking a sip of her own drink.

Shawn: But I’ll tell you this, something else you should know about me. When I turn over a leaf, I turn it over. I’m telling you I’m on your side now, and you better believe it. [ raising his bottle in cheers ] We’re in the underworld, Burgess, but we’ll navigate together. Sound cool?

There’s a moment of contemplation. Then Harper manages a smile, clinking her glass against his. As their drinks meet --

EXT. NYPD PRECINCT - NIGHT

Asher’s car door slams, Lucas walking sheepishly from the parking lot to where Asher is waiting for him on the curb. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring at Lucas and shuffling restlessly from foot to foot. There are clearly things both of them want to say, but it’s gotten harder to speak now that they’re in front of one another again.

Lucas: Where’s Dylan?

Asher, shortly: His dad came to pick him up.

Brisk conversation. Lucas has made it to join him on the curb. He tentatively holds out his keys -- Asher snatches them from him, stepping off the curb without comment. Then he thinks better of it, whipping back around and approaching Lucas again. When he speaks, his voice is strained with anger, but also trembling.

Asher, fiercely: The next time you want to ruin your life, you can leave Dylan out of it!

Lucas attempts to cover for himself, to offer some sort of explanation that makes all of this better, but he can’t. There’s nothing he can say, and there’s no way to make this better. Asher clenches his teeth, eyes glossing over as he shakes his head at everything Lucas starts to say.

Asher: Look, you can do whatever you want, Lucas. You were right the whole time -- it doesn’t matter. Not to you.

Lucas: That’s not true.

Asher: You can do what you want, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. I’m done.

Asher turns to go, starting to head into the parking lot. Lucas steps down off the curb after him.

Lucas, panicked: Asher --

Asher: Don’t!

Both of them freeze. Lucas pauses and then steps back, respecting his wishes. Asher hesitates for one last second, almost turning around… and then he marches towards his car.

Lucas watches him go, looking more regretful than we’ve ever seen him. That is, until he turns back towards the precinct and sees Jack impatiently waiting for him by the front counter, looking absolutely livid.

INT. ASHER’S CAR - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Younger” as performed by Ruel || Performed by Asher Garcia

The instrumental starts just as Asher shuts the car door, taking a moment to absorb what the hell just happened. He lets out a sigh and falls back against the driver’s seat, pressing his palms to his eyes and trying to keep from crying.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Asher’s performance takes on a slightly different structure than the rest, still split between the real world as he drives home and the AAA stage, but also this blast from the past. It’s essentially a fabrication of the origins of Lucas and Asher’s friendship, the two of them sneaking out late at night in freshman year to go wander around and talk. From the way they both grin and crack up as they go, despite being cast in shadow, it’s a stronger advocate for their relationship than anything we’ve seen as of late.

The things that Asher is so deeply holding onto, wishing things were that simple again.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

But as mentioned, he takes the stage too, and the emotion of the rendition makes it near masterful. The performers in the A class might be chilled to know there’s some serious talent hidden in the depths of the techie crew, and Asher is perhaps the most prominent example.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Asher makes it back to his bedroom as the song hits the bridge, clearly exhausted. He slips off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, going to organize his things off his desk but getting caught on looking at his bulletin board again.

Carefully, he pulls another photo from the second layer of pinned items -- a picture of him and Lucas from freshman year. It’s difficult to look at, painful to acknowledge how much he feels like has changed. As he sings the lyrics “but we’re out of time,” he folds the picture in his fingers, like he’s crumpling it for good.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

The memory of Lucas and Asher have made it to Central Park, on the Gapstow bridge. Both of them are looking out over the edge, Lucas no longer looking at Asher.

Asher takes a moment to look at him -- really examine him, trying to figure him out. Wondering if the time they’re spending together is worth it, or if he’s wasting his energy on someone who will never return the favor.

Only this time, he doesn’t just stand there until Lucas is ready to move. As the song builds to the final chorus, memory Asher turns and hesitates one last moment… before walking away. Heading in the opposite direction, leaving Lucas behind him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Which launches him right into the last chorus, delivering the powerful vocals with resounding emotional force. It’s obvious how difficult this is, how much it hurts, how badly he wishes this wasn’t how things were.

So I can't call you my brother, the way that we used to When we were younger, younger...

Asher finishes out the performance with a flourish, nearly stumbling as he backs out of the spotlight. He’s tear-stained, flushed, running a hand through his hair and honestly disoriented as he tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do next.

Then he exits the stage, leaving it empty and cold.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Isadora is in the living room, set up on the couch to crash for a few days. Blue comes in ready for bed, asking if there’s anything else he can get for her before he calls it a night. She assures him that it’s all good, and makes a point of thanking him for letting her stay. He tells her any time.

But it’s clear Isadora will not be finding rest any time soon. She scrolls through her phone, hesitating on the brink of a decision. Then she sits up, hitting call on her phone.

After a moment, VALERIE DE LA CRUZ picks up on the other end. She asks what’s up, and there’s a second where Isadora pauses. Then she starts to tell her everything, starting with Farkle and spiraling down into everything that’s happened since.

Actually opting to let her mother in, in spite of how unfamiliar the practice feels.

EXT. NYPD PRECINCT - NIGHT

Jack and Lucas exit the precinct, the former leading the charge and digging his keys from his pocket. Lucas lags behind, not wanting to have to go home but also not sure he wants to face Jack’s disappointment. It’s harsher than usual because it’s quiet. He’s not reprimanding him, he’s not yelling. It’s just… nothing.

Lucas: Aren’t you going to say anything?

Jack: I don’t think you want to hear what I want to say to you right now.

Lucas stops in the middle of the parking lot, not following him anymore. Jack realizes he’s no longer behind him, spinning and finding him waiting. Looking at him, expression blank, not defensive or waspish or bitter. Just waiting.

Jack sighs, holding his arms out.

Jack: Okay, you want to hear it? I don’t want to say anything because I don’t think it’s worth the effort.

Lucas, quietly: … not worth the effort.

Jack: Yes. Because there’s nothing I could say that I haven’t already said to you before. Don’t do this, don’t do that, think. Think. Think! But you never do. You never listen, and we always end up back in this spot, starting over again.

Lucas: … I didn’t mean for...

Jack: [ growing frustrated ] I can’t keep doing it, Lucas! I can’t keep sticking my neck out for you and trying to help only for you to take advantage of it at every turn. You can’t help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped. So I’m not wasting my breath anymore. [ a beat ] Now get in the car so I can take you home.

Jack doesn’t wait for him to respond. He walks over to his car and unlocks it, keeping true to his word and not wasting anymore energy than necessary.

Lucas stands there for a moment, absorbing the full consequences of his actions. It’s like it’s all collapsing on him at once, domino after domino falling over until there’s nothing left. He’s caught in the red glow of Jack’s tail lights, a tear spilling over and sliding down his cheek.

He wipes at it hastily, sniffling and then shuffling his way over to the car. He climbs into the passenger seat without a word.

INT. HOSPITAL - LOBBY - NIGHT

Maya is still dressed in her graffiti garb, removing her knit cap and twisting it in her hands. She seems a bit lost as she tries to figure out where she’s going, the nurse at the front desk asking if there’s something she can help her with. She assures her she’s fine, and when she informs her that visiting hours are done for the evening, she explains she’s just here to pick up her sister from visiting their father.

She makes up a room number and sends the nurse on a wild goose chase, waiting until she’s out of sight to head down the opposite hallway and exploring for herself.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Maya makes her way along, reading spare paperwork and files as she goes to try and figure out where exactly she’s headed. Finally, she arrives at her destination, frozen in the doorway and unable to progress any further. The temporary nameplate on the door confirms she’s made it.

F. Minkus.

Maya peers around the door.

INT. HOSPITAL - FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

And there is FARKLE MINKUS. Fatigued and hooked up to a dozen little wires but alive, seemingly snoozing in his hospital bed. A laptop and briefcase on the window seat indicates that he’s already got a visitor, but no one is around.

Maya stares at him for a long moment, until the sight of it becomes too much. She starts to turn away, making her escape --

Farkle: Maya?

She winces, not sure she actually heard him. She glances back over her shoulder, Farkle half-awake and blinking at her from across the room. He looks confused, but not upset to see her there. Maya deliberates before easing her way inside, taking the seat next to his bed.

Maya: … hi.

Farkle: What are you doing here? [ dazed ] Visiting hours are… except for family…

Maya: I just wanted -- I had to see you.

That said, it’s not necessarily for good reasons. Maya explains what Eric said, about all the emotions she might be feeling. And he’s right -- she is feeling all of that. She’s furious at him, furious that he would do this without even thinking about the rest of them. She’s mortified by the prospect of him not being there -- never being there again -- despite her statements that she’s better off without him. And because of that she’s confused, not sure whether she wants to forgive him or not but now all the things she was upset with him for originally feel trivial or stupid, which isn’t fair because he still did those things. And those things shouldn’t just get wiped clean because he tried to escape them permanently.

More than anything, though, she admits that she can’t believe he was going to leave without her. That he was just going to leave her behind in the most irreversible way possible, and she can’t even begin to wrap her head around that. She doesn’t want to exist in that world.

Maya: Everyone kept saying I needed to talk to someone. I had to talk to someone about you, about what happened. They kept saying that, but the only person who… the only person I could even fathom wanting to talk to was you.

That much, Farkle can understand. He’s clearly out of it, and it’s a wonder how much of this he’ll remember later, but it’s helping Maya to say it.

Maya: I just wanted to talk to you, but I don’t know if that’s what I wanted to say. I’m not sure what else to say. I’m still trying to… figure it out. I just hope that you -- I hope you realize --

She can’t articulate it. Farkle squints at her, trying to understand.

Maya: I don’t want this bullshit world if you’re not in it, Farkle. You got that? I’m not -- we’re not all dandy but -- it’s bullshit if it’s not with you.

Maya doesn’t offer the chance for clarifying questions. She rises from the seat and makes a hasty exit, disappearing before anyone can catch her or Farkle can ask something she doesn’t yet know the answer to.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Nothing Stops Another Day” as performed by Ghost Original Cast || Performed by Maya Hart

As Maya winds her way through the halls of the hospital, she launches into what is essentially the thesis of the episode -- and in some ways the season. Darkness is going to eclipse the light sometimes, and there will always be bad in the world. But the world keeps going regardless, and she can either succumb to it and disappear, or keep marching onward in spite of it.

Because the world keeps turning, and I guess it always will I can choose to turn around or I can choose to just stand still Either way, nothing stops another day...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Of course, Maya delivers an equally stirring rendition while on the fictional AAA stage, completing the trend for performances of the evening. And, tellingly, this lyric rings particularly true as we come out of the frost of February and launch into the rest of our season:

Winter can’t hold back the spring, no matter how dark it may seem…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya climbs back through the bay window, Riley already seemingly in bed and asleep after the crazy night she’s had. As Maya makes her way to her bed, she stops when she sees the item that has been left on her comforter.

The photo from Farkle’s locker of the two of them. Obviously left there by Riley, figuring she might want it all things considered.

As Maya rounds out the performance, she steps up to her future moodboard and adheres the photo to it. Surrounded by everything else, but taking a definitive space.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The A class has assembled again on Monday, having survived another tough week. But the ripple effect of everything that has happened peeks through in subtle ways, like Maya nowhere near as glamorous and put together as usual and letting that vulnerability show. Isadora is next to her, equally as tired but still marching on. Asher is sitting closer to Dylan, their hands linked in his lap. Zay and Charlie can’t look at each other. Lucas is nowhere to be found.

Harper takes the front of the classroom, Shawn settling back against the teacher desk in the back and crossing his arms. Harper starts by apologizing for her outburst late last week, then explains that the reason she’s sorry is not because she had one, but because she wasn’t being candid with all of them. The truth of the matter is, this is just as difficult for her as it is for them, and she’s also feeling conflicted, overwhelmed, reckless, unsure.

In the midst of her speech, she grows uncertain. She glances back towards Shawn, who gives her an encouraging nod. Having her back, as he said he would.

She clears her throat, getting back on track. Some of her former confidence back intact, she explains that it doesn’t do anybody any good for them to struggle through this alone, so they’re going to get through it together. The class seems into this, offering weak smiles and nods. Dave gives an endorsing thumbs up.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Smile” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by AAA Juniors

Harper gestures Riley up to stand with her, allowing her to take the reins and explain her idea of how to honor Farkle. As the soft guitar strums float in…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The junior A class keeps it painstakingly simple for this performance, in their regular clothes and seated along the edge of the stage. Dylan and Dave play their guitars, Riley taking the gentle opening verse and then allowing the vocals to pass amongst their classmates. The divas abstain from solos, instead giving Yindra, Clarissa, Darby, and Yogi the chance to shine.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

While this unfolds, Riley leads her classmates in the decoration of Farkle’s locker. They’re adorning it with photographs, letters, flowers and warm wishes and small things for him to find when he finally returns to school. Each of them are taking the matter seriously, but also finding joy in the task. Lots of exchanged timid smiles, a couple of nervous laughs.

The reason Lucas is not in class is because he’s playing guard dog, set up on the floor next to Farkle’s locker and keeping people from stepping on the display or being careless around it. Putting his protectiveness and delinquency to good use. No one tries to stop him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

A fair majority of the A class have shed tears in the process of the performance, but somehow it’s a good thing. Relieving, a sense of catharsis, all of them sharing in the emotion together rather than attempting to fumble with it on their own. Riley reaches out and takes Maya’s hand -- Isadora squeezes Dylan’s shoulder.

It’s nice to hear their voices in harmony again, singing about looking towards the future with optimism rather than dread. It’s not going to be easy, and there’s much to rebuild, but Maya’s earlier sentiment is right -- winter can’t hold back the spring, no matter how dark it may seem.

INT. HOSPITAL - FARKLE’S ROOM - DAY

Their assembled voices float over our last shot of Farkle, asleep in his hospital bed but in recovery. Completely unaware of the impact he’s had, how grateful people are that he’s still there. STUART MINKUS is there with him, having fallen asleep in the chair by his bed and holding his son’s hand.

You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile…

END OF EPISODE.

IF ANY of the content in this episode has been triggering, please reach out and talk to somebody you trust and who can help you. The following links are resources including hotlines, prevention organizations, and international numbers.

Suicide Prevention: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

List of Suicide Hotlines: https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines https://suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

#S2 #episodes #208 #and here we are.

15 notes · View notes