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AMBITION Season 4 ♫ “Oh, I’m Living In A Movie Scene” [ 4.08 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3

FRAME BY FRAME — Isa braves the jump to see where their bloodline leads. Maya runs headfirst onto her new path, while Yindra debates running away. With time closing in, Lucas embarks on a desperate mission to uncover the truth, employing an unlikely partner along the way.

106 Minutes (69.5K words) || CONTENT WARNING: Drug use.

[ ← Resolution ] [ S4 Synopsis ] [ Reassessment → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

RECAP

Over a series of shots from the ice skating group date, particularly Dylan ramming into Riley and Lucas on the ice:

Isa, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

We’re halfway through the fourth season, and boy, has a lot happened. Rather than trying to thread it together nicely, since it’s like half a million words of content, the creative team figures a bulleted list will get the important points across much faster so we can get to the good stuff. To jog your memory:

Riley, Isa, and Nigel spent their first semester at NYU. While Riley has managed to shine, earning a leading role in the winter musical as a freshman and generally making the best of it (including making a new friend in the form of former Havie Evan Scott), Nigel and Isa haven’t had it so easy.

Isa clashed with peers in their major (film boys are the worst breed), and struggled to make their own mark outside of Valerie’s shadow and the accusation of nepotism. They also found friction with their caustic but clever film professor, and were ultimately used by another. They ultimately decided to take a semester off to focus on getting their personal life in order so that they can fully immerse in their studies when they return. This predominantly involves building a true relationship with their real father, famous film actor Z.D. Roman, who they’ve been corresponding with over the course of the fall and winter.

Nigel struggled most of all to adjust to NYU, and this fish-out-of-water syndrome caused him to lose his sense of self and make some not-so-charming friends in the process. It didn’t help that Jade was so busy with her internship at Anya Kelly, it felt like every stable facet of his life was falling apart.

Jade did have a strong start at the AK internship, quickly falling into the good graces of the woman herself. But this came with false promises and dark underbellies, as it didn’t take her long to become familiar with unpaid labor and uncredited creativity. Not to mention Anya, like most high-powered executives, was disguising a nasty temper and dark side of her own. Disillusioned and ready to start fresh, Jade ended up applying to a new position out in Los Angeles, which is where she’s now heading for the new year.

At the same time, Farkle began his first semester at USC. While he struggled a bit socially to start, he also managed to make a splash and get cast in the winter musical, which is due to open any day now. He also managed to snag his first ever relationship, capturing the creative eye of a directing sophomore named Jordan Nelson. Spoiler alert, he’s full of himself (film boys are the worst, part two).

Zay began his difficult first year at NYCA, where he is gunning to transfer into their coveted dance major. While he initially found friction with his rival, Vanessa Johnson, that spark between them quickly caught fire in another fashion as they developed a sexual, and later, romantic relationship. Both of them have been striving honorably to make it work, but with auditions looming on the horizon, it’s anyone’s guess how long their new courtship can withstand the pressure.

Meanwhile, outside of the world of academia, Yindra and Maya both shot for the stars to break into the industry. While Maya quickly found footing basically by sheer Maya will power (and a killer catchy song and music video of her own invention), Yindra faltered and kept hitting dead ends. So while Maya snagged management and developed a complicated on-again-off-again producing dynamic with one Josh Matthews, Yindra fled back to New York while she tries to decide whether the fight for the dream is truly worth it.

Her convenient free ride back to NYC came in the form of Charlie Gardner, who finally arrived back in the city after a long six months abroad and in Los Angeles. The travel seems to have done him well, though (both mentally and tan-ly, as everyone loves to comment), and he is moving into the spring renewed with enthusiasm about choosing his own path -- whatever it might be. He also had high hopes about renewing a certain relationship with a former paramour, but that daydream came crashing down when his return home revealed that new relationships had developed in his absence...

Also in the out-of-school camp, Lucas is juggling multiple emotional grenades as he waits out the inevitable physical decline of his father’s battle with cancer. In the meantime, he’s avoiding it by hopping from job to job (always with Chubbies, then from Adams Shawn-sidekick to apprenticing with Evelyn Rand at the school board), and experimenting with housing situations. After an absolutely terrible run of trying to room with Isa and Riley (due to the former, not the latter), he ultimately called a truce and left the apartment.

Which, oh, yeah. Lucas and Charlie are roommates now. If you even cared.

Much of this drama culminated at the most (in)opportune moment, when everyone was back together for New Year’s Eve dinner. In classic theater kid fashion, it was a scene to behold.

Isa: Like how you hooked up with Farkle --

Farkle: IT WAS JUST HAND STUFF.

Nigel: Hey, you know what, good for you. You could do worse than Charlie, Farkle.

Asher: He’d definitely make a better boyfriend than Jordan… God, I’m sorry, Farkle, but he’s the worst!

Charlie: I’m talking about how you spent it hiding here in New York when you have a literal producer wanting to talk with you in L.A.

Asher: Well, that’s rich coming from you, Jade, considering you have a big job offer lined up in L.A. and aren’t doing anything about it.

Nigel: You almost hurt your tendon again, then you decided it would be a great idea to start sleeping with the girl you said you couldn’t stand like three seconds earlier --

Zay: You know, I always knew you were judging me about that. Unlike you, Nigel, not everyone moves in their relationships at the pace of a tortoise.

Nigel: Not to mention you were kinda pathetic in your own right earlier this year when you were doing nothing but mope while Charlie was away!

Isa: [ indignant, then back to Riley and Lucas ] Oh, and they have sex, and it’s disgusting!

Zay: Well then aren’t you so lucky, Isa, that Friar is moving in with Charlie.

Riley: Dylan and Asher are moving in together!

Lucas: You really gonna speak up now, Nigel, as if you’re the epitome of friendship? As if you haven’t been talking shit about Riley behind her back for months?

You really had to be there. And in case it wasn’t obvious --

Asher: Were we… not telling people about that?

No. No, most assuredly, no one was planning to talk about basically anything that dropped like the Times Square ball on New Year’s Eve.

Dylan: Hey, hey, hey! I get it, all right, tensions are high, but don’t be fucking rude!

Preach, Dyl. Even so, our crew got through it, and was able to make amends where necessary. Some truces were forged; other grievances were forgiven. Once all of the dust settled, our ensemble was able to look towards the future with fresh eyes and renewed optimism (in most cases), now that the weight of hiding the truth was no longer heavy on their shoulders.

Well… mostly. Not quite every secret found its way out.

Zay: So, any other groundbreaking bombshells from your journey you want to get off your chest now before we call it even? ‘Tis the season, apparently. Speak now or forever hold your peace, while I’m already sitting down.

Charlie: … [ raising his hands in surrender ] Nope. I’m all out of cards.

But the past is the past, and a new year has begun. Intermission is over, so let us launch into the second act of Season 4.

End of recap.

Over black, we hear the ambient sounds of paper being rustled, and a pen uncapping. There’s a pause, a deep sigh, and then the telltale sound of pen-to-paper scribbling.

Isa: Valerie.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Quick-cut shots bring us into the episode officially, as a suitcase slams shut and zips with a flourish. A backpack on their shoulders.

Isa, voiceover: I hope you’re happy. Seriously, up or down there wherever you’ve ended up, I hope you’re fucking ecstatic. Against all odds, with the shitty trail of breadcrumbs you accidentally left behind for me to pick up, I’ve figured it out. I put the pieces together, with probably just as much dramatic flair as you would’ve wanted.

ISA DE LA CRUZ takes a deep breath, getting a good look at their room. It looks like, based on their expression, they won’t be seeing it for a while. Then they grab their suitcase and head for the door.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Isa continues to narrate as the scene before us silently unfolds, peppered only with underscoring music and the voiceover. As they head out, RILEY MATTHEWS rushes over and asks if they need any help. She affectionately nitpicks and double-checks on Isa’s things all the way to the door.

Isa, voiceover: And now, with the same dramatic, probably stupid mindset, I’m following the trail. Doing what felt impossible just a year or so ago.

Once Isa has convinced Riley they’ll be fine, they open their arms to invite a hug. Riley accepts it enthusiastically, hugging Isa tight and wishing them the best of luck.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - TICKETING - DAY

This embrace transitions into another one, ERIC MATTHEWS sharing a goodbye embrace with Isa. He does the same routine as Riley, checking that they’ve got everything they need, but JACK HUNTER spares them further convincing by telling Eric to relax. Isa will be fine. They’ve got this.

Isa smiles, giving Jack a grateful nod. He returns the friendliness with a pat on the shoulder. Then, after one quick embrace with Eric that Isa initiates, they set them free to head back through security.

As Isa approaches the checkpoint, they hold up their printed flight ticket to get a better look.

Isa, voiceover: I’m going back to Los Angeles. I’m going to meet my dad.

It’s really happening. All that’s left is to do it.

Isa exhales and grips the straps of their backpack, holding on for dear life as they march on.

INT. AIRLINER - MOVING - DAY

Isa is seated in a window seat, tray table down as they scribble their letter to Val. They’re grateful the person in the middle seat is asleep, because they can’t think of another way to get their thoughts and nerves out. Letter-writing has worked for these complex feelings in the past… and they have the sense they’ll be writing a lot of them in the days to come.

Isa, voiceover: I’m writing this to you specifically because if anyone deserved to know about this happening, it would be you. You know, considering it’s all your fault. I can’t decide if I’m excited, or furious, or overwhelmed, or don’t feel anything. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel about all of it. Maybe a little of everything. I hope you realize how much I’m working through to see this through. I’m taking a semester off NYU. I’m going to miss Riley’s opening night of Ghost. I won’t be there for the school board election when that ends this week, however the fuck that ends up turning out.

Isa pauses when the overhead announcement asks the passengers to stow their belongings, as they’re beginning their descent into Los Angeles. Glancing out the window, they watch as the city of palm trees and performance appears through the hazy clouds.

Isa, voiceover: But I know I have to do this. I want to. If I ever want to move forward with the future, whatever it holds, I have to understand the past. I want that. Even if you couldn’t give it to me, I’m trying to believe that you’d want it for me now.

EXT. BURBANK AIRPORT - BAGGAGE CLAIM - DAY

Isa emerges into the Los Angeles sunshine at the outdoor baggage claim of Burbank airport. They tread cautiously, scanning the crowd in the shade…

Where ZACHARY MACNAMARA is waiting for her. Yes, it really is him. He’s wearing a baseball cap to better conceal his face, and he’s grown more stubble than the last time they saw him on video, but he’s there to see them. He came.

And he’s smiling. A shy one, but authentic. Not polished pop perfection; something real. Isa does their best to mirror it as they approach, in spite of their nerves.

Isa, voiceover: I just hope it’s worth it. [ a beat ] With mixed feelings, Isa.

Zachary and Isa meet in the middle, still smiling but not sure how else to greet one another. Isa’s usually bad at greetings anyway, but the conundrum of how to greet your dad-who-hasn’t-been-your-dad-for-nineteen-years-and-you’re-friendly-but-not-that-close-yet-but-maybe-want-to-be-but-don’t-know-if-that’s-possible-yet-or-ever does not make that challenge any easier.

Thankfully, at least, it seems Zachary is just as clueless as they are. He twitches in one direction, extending his arms slightly like he might go for a hug. But then he decides against it, which Isa thinks they’re grateful for. Isa extends their hand, maybe in a handshake, but Zachary isn’t sure how to receive it and so it becomes an odd fist-bump type situation instead.

Close enough. Zachary smiles wider in embarrassment, then clears his throat.

Zachary: It’s good to see you. Really see you, that is.

Isa: Yeah. Yeah, same.

Zachary: Welcome to Los Angeles. Though I guess not technically… you’ve been here before. So.

Isa: A few times. Yeah.

Zachary: Right. Well, welcome this time.

Watching this whole awkward exchange is SYDNEY NGUYEN (29), Zachary’s personal assistant. She looks back and forth between them, only subtly judging, before stepping forward to intervene.

Sydney: I assume you have luggage?

Isa is surprised by the interruption, obviously not sure who the hell this woman is. But they stumble over an agreement, shifting their attention towards the baggage carousel. Once they locate the right bag, Sydney picks it up before Isa can even reach for it.

Isa: You don’t have to --

Sydney: It’s fine. It’s my job.

Well, sort of. As Zachary quickly explains, Sydney volunteered to help take care of the logistics in picking Isa up. Since this was such a big deal to Zachary, she wanted to help it run smoothly. Sydney nods along, but she doesn’t directly comment.

Zachary: She’ll be running your things back to the house, so that we don’t have to immediately rush into the whole family tornado. I thought you might want it to be more gradual.

Isa: Um, yeah. That’s great, actually. Thanks. [ to Sydney ] Thanks.

Sydney gives them an off-hand nod, already looking for her rideshare.

Zachary: I thought instead, we could start with lunch? If you’re hungry.

Lunch, Isa can manage. They agree. As they start to walk towards the curb, Isa’s voiceover briefly returns.

Isa, voiceover: P.S. If this doesn’t go well, I’m blaming you. Just so we’re clear.

Always good to have your backup blame.

INT. LOCAL NEWS - MONTAGE - DAY

True to Isa’s word, the school board election is kicking into high gear as they approach the final week. Based on a choppy, chaotic montage that replicates how intense the campaign process feels, we get caught up with how everything has developed over the last month. The race has become neck-and-neck, and quite competitive for an off-season election, mainly thanks to high social media and youth engagement. The students are the ones being represented in this choice, and clearly they’ve decided they care!

But that may not be enough. The polling has been close, and Connelly has more extensive media training than Jack. That’s been true since the start. Not to mention, Connelly has been running an aggressive slew of anti-Jack advertisements in the last couple of weeks, seemingly out of nowhere. Before, their marketing was pretty even and at the same pace.

Now, Connelly is dominating the airwaves, and we get a glimpse of how nasty it can become via a series of clipped together snippets. Ads painting Jack as incompetent, unconcerned with academics given his focus at Adams on the arts, lax on discipline given the Bradford fiasco, a few catered specifically to the homophobic crowd given his unprofessional liaisons with a coworker who is now in his old position… it’s a complete bad faith representation of Jack Hunter, and everything he stands for, but that’s what is taking up all the oxygen right now.

Newscaster 1: Jack Hunter isn’t out of this race just yet, but I have to say, I think it’ll be a miracle if he can pull this off. The polling doesn’t seem in his favor.

Newscaster 2: Well, I think we’ve learned in the last few years in this country that you can’t always trust a poll. But only one poll will tell us the truth -- and that’s the ballot box.

Newscaster 1: That’s right. So everyone gear up for next Tuesday, when you’ll want to cast your vote for what is turning out to be the hottest school board campaign this city has seen in a long, long time.

There’s still one week left, though, and anything could happen. Knowing AMBITION, you know surely something will.

Lights, camera, and…

Cue title sequence.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Bright and early, VANESSA JOHNSON is milling around Zay’s bedroom gathering her things. She’s trying to move quietly as to not wake him, already changed into her rehearsal clothes.

Her efforts are for naught, however. As she’s zipping up her jacket, ZAY BABINEAUX pointedly clears his throat, signaling she’s been caught. She makes a face to herself and then slowly turns to face him, offering a sheepish smile. He’s still in bed, bleary-eyed from sleep, but he’s awake enough to recognize she’s sneaking out.

Vanessa: Sorry. I was trying not to wake you.

Zay: Morning to you too. I see we’re off to a nice and leisurely start today.

Vanessa gives him a look, hairpin in her mouth as she ties her hair back out of her face. Zay rubs his eyes and then pushes into a sitting position.

Zay: You know it’s not 2021 anymore, right? You don’t have to walk of shame out of my room.

Vanessa: I’m not. Don’t be dramatic.

Zay: Seriously, what’s the rush? Class doesn’t start for another hour and a half. Have some breakfast. Or at least some caffeine -- my mom will be so huffy if she doesn’t get to say goodbye to you. Something about manners, or hosting, blah blah blah.

Vanessa: Well, you’ll have to give her my warmest regards. But I want to get some extra practice in before Gao’s.

Zay: With what? We don’t even have an assignment for this week yet.

Vanessa: I’m just staying sharp. Some of us are trying to keep up our competitive edge because we want to transfer at the end of this semester.

She says it with humor, aiming for playful, but it doesn’t come off quite right. It doesn’t land the way she wants it to, because there’s a little too much truth in it, and the insinuation rubs Zay the wrong way even when he’s half-asleep.

They’re well into second semester, and the time for playing around is quickly slipping away.

Both of them sense the flash of friction, but no one wants to touch it. Vanessa brushes past it and escapes instead, slinging her duffle over her shoulder and stating that she’ll see him in class. She leans over to exchange a quick kiss goodbye, then she’s gone, leaving Zay alone.

It’s too fucking early for relationship drama… yet it feels like he can’t seem to go a day without it. Just his luck. Zay hums a groan and presses his palms to his eyes, falling back against his pillows.

When is any of this finally going to be easy?

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Well, life is a bit easier when you’ve got a great roommate. That’s what LUCAS JAMES FRIAR is discovering, as he emerges from his bedroom and finds a whole extra plate of breakfast -- fruit salad, eggs, and toast -- waiting on the kitchen counter.

Are they expecting someone… or… Lucas glances around the otherwise empty living area, trying to find the logical explanation for this abundance of food. It’s certainly not scrapping over apples in the refrigerator, that’s for sure.

CHARLIE GARDNER comes out of his bedroom moments later, carrying a couple of books from the library and already dressed for the day. He offers Lucas a cheerful smile -- one a bit too bright for this time of the morning in Lucas’s book, but he’s getting used to it.

Charlie: Morning.

Lucas: Yeah. [ gesturing to the food ] Who are we expecting, the Pope?

Charlie: Huh? Oh, no -- [ with a laugh ] Nah, I just made too much this morning when I was meal-prepping. So there’s extra. Thought you might want some before work.

Well, that’s nice. Charlie is so nonchalant about it too, not even looking for a thanks as he goes to the couch and spreads out the books on the coffee table to continue whatever he was doing earlier. Lucas shrugs and approaches the counter, starting to dig into the breakfast. What’s a guy gonna do, say no? If Lucas is being consistently fed healthy meals, even better.

There’s a chipper knock at the door, a pattern the two of them clearly recognize, so Charlie hollers that it’s open. Riley steps inside, greeting both of them happily. She’s just stopping by on her way to NYU, something that appears to be a slowly emerging routine in the first month and some change of Charlie and Lucas’s new roommate-ship.

Riley crosses over to join Lucas by the counter, giving him a kiss hello. Then she pauses, smelling the fresh food, and raises her eyebrows at the breakfast plate he’s munching on.

Riley: That smells incredible. Did you make that?

Lucas: Don’t get excited. [ pointing with his fork to Charlie ] All him.

Riley: Rats. I had serious visions of a future of homemade breakfast for a second there. Maybe I should move in here too…

Charlie: Shoulda married me when you had the chance.

Riley gives him a playful look, narrowing her eyes. And wouldn’t Eleanor have been so fortunate!

Anyway, the three of them idly discuss what their plans are for the day. Lucas is at the school board, then at Chubbies; Charlie is killing time waiting to hear back on any college auditions he might be facing in the next month or so, but he thinks he might hang around Central Park for a bit. Been a while since he got to enjoy it fully.

That’s nice. Riley can’t relate -- she has a thousand and one things on her plate, which she fills them in on with no hesitation. She’s doing a few campaign calls for Jack this morning before class, then she’ll be on campus until lunch. Then in between lectures, she’s checking in with Isa, and then after class she’s got rehearsal since dress rehearsals for Ghost are coming faster than she thinks. Not to mention Evan wants to do a bonus line-through between their afternoon classes to confirm they’re off-book, and somewhere in there she needs to find time to do some damage control media management for the campaign.

Charlie: Damage control? Is Jack’s TikTok game really that bad?

Lucas: [ with a mouthful of toast ] I believe the kids call it “cringe.”

Riley: No, he’s doing fine. I mean… yes, his social media acumen leaves something to be desired, but this isn’t his fault. It’s more just combatting misinformation -- Connelly’s campaign has been absolutely bombarding the airwaves and internet with negative ads.

And in the last week before the election, that’s the kind of coverage you don’t want. She doesn’t even know where they all came from so suddenly -- up to this point, even though Jack was mainly propelled by small donors, they had been able to keep up momentum and stay even. Now, it’s like Connelly has bought out every single medium of information possible. It has to be costing them a fortune.

Lucas: Must be a good sign to a degree though, right? If they’re suddenly pouring all that energy into trying to take him down, he must be a bigger threat than they originally thought.

Riley: I hope you’re right. At least we do have one secret weapon in our arsenal…

INT. COMMUNITY COLLEGE CAMPUS - LIVESTREAM - DAY

In a quick-cut shot, framed like a social media livestream, DYLAN ORLANDO gives his one-hundred thousand followers a riveting rundown of the campaign thus far and encourages them to participate in the election if they live in the district. Local elections matter, people!

Dylan: And for every one of y’all Manhattan pickles who shows me proof that you exercised your right to vote, I am pledging to enter you into a raffle where I will pick one hundred lucky winners and bake a cookie goody bag and send it, custom-made with love, to the address of your choice. Treat yourself! Get me to send cookies to your grandmother for her 85th birthday because you’re too lazy to do it yourself! Send cookies to your arch-nemesis to kickstart your enemies-to-lover redemption arc! Whatever, I’m game, just so long as you get out there and vote.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Riley takes a deep, calming breath, letting it out through her nose. Then, she smiles.

Riley: In any case, we’re going to stay the course. We’re in the home-stretch and we have what matters -- values and the desire to make a true difference with the community.

That’s adorable, Riley. Even she knows that’s a flimsy foundation for victory in politics, but she’ll optimist her way out of this one or die trying. And besides…

Riley: All that matters at the end of the day is turnout. So that’s where I’m keeping my A-game.

Charlie: That sounds like a good plan, Riley, but are you like… resting? When do you take a break?

Lucas: Yeah, you’re not like burning out or whatever, are you?

Riley looks blankly back and forth between them, blinking. Genuinely, she seems surprised they’re even asking such a question.

Riley: What do you mean? I’m having the time of my life.

Scary part is, she means it. Some people really do just love to be busy… and there’s much to be done, so no time to waste. Riley shares another kiss with Lucas and wishes him a good day, then flounces over to the couch and leans over to give Charlie a theatrical kiss on the top of the head and wish him the same.

Once she’s gone, Lucas thinks on the discussion a bit longer.

Lucas: Kinda weird, isn’t it? That they’d flood so many ads at once. Wouldn’t they need like, a shit ton of money to do that?

Charlie: Probably. But who knows -- campaigns are usually a rich person’s game anyway. I just hope they don’t skew things too harshly out of Jack’s favor.

Yeah… Lucas lets it go, but it clearly is going to linger on his mind. He pops another bite of fruit salad into his mouth.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - KITCHEN - MORNING

NIGEL CHEY is fixing up a bag lunch for himself before he heads out to class, alone this morning. He usually is these days. But it’s hard to say how much of that is self-inflicted -- based on the quick glance of his messages we can see as he flips through his phone, Riley and others are reaching out to him. He just isn’t exactly responding.

There is one conversation he’s happy to jump in on though. His Discord server with the Shakespeare nerds is still hopping, and he doesn’t hesitate to participate there. He just finishes typing a response to something in one of the threads when LIEZEL CHEY and ERNESTO CHEY enter the kitchen, greeting him with good mornings and getting their own meals ready for the day.

Nigel hasn’t told them about the group chat, and doesn’t seem keen to -- neither of them are social media people, and his mom still believes in the likelihood of a stranger online being an elderly predator as greater than not. Thankfully, they don’t think anything of him texting despite the early hour, assuming it’s one of his friends or Jade.

Ernesto: How is Jade doing? She settled in all right?

This, Nigel can speak on. He smiles, nodding and confirming that as far as she’s told him, the journey out west happened without great disaster.

Nigel: She’s going to do great. I already know.

He has full confidence in that, even if any in himself wavers.

INT. AIRBNB - BEDROOM - DAY

And it is well placed! JADE BEAMON has safely traveled across the continent, arriving in a small but functional studio place near her new job. It’s not totally ideal, and her parents are helping her pay for it while she gets set up, but soon she’ll be able to transition to a more long-term living arrangement. The temporary digs will do for now.

Her parents, HANNAH BEAMON and CHRISTIAN BEAMON, are there to help her move in, as well as TREVOR BEAMON and ELLIOT BEAMON. Well, the twins are doing more goofing around than actually helping, but it’s the thought that counts.

Hannah asks Jade if she’s sure she doesn’t want them to stay a few days longer, to help her with the first week, but she assures them she’s fine. She doesn’t want them to be sitting around here waiting for her to get home from work like she’s an elementary schooler again, and they have things they need to be doing with their own jobs and schooling.

Elliot: That’s fine. I’m happy to miss a few more days.

Trevor: Yeah, let’s go to Disneyland instead!

Jade: [ gesturing indicatively ] My point exactly. They need an education far more than I need their company.

Both of them gripe at her, then go back to messing with her things in boxes. But Jade seems pretty grounded about the whole thing, so Hannah and Christian aren’t going to argue her on it. They just want her to know they have her back, and if she needs them for anything, she doesn’t have to hesitate.

Yes, she has a pretty solid foundation going into this adventure -- and that includes more than just her family. When she checks her phone, she sees plenty of messages from her pals back in New York and the techie crew wishing her the best of luck during her first week.

INT. YINDRA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Unfortunately, YINDRA AMINO doesn’t have nearly the same amount of good mojo. She’s still feeling adrift about her current career prospects, despite the agent she met at the Haunt reaching out to her. At this rate, it’s unclear if she’ll even stick it out and go back to the city at all, which is made apparent by the fact that she’s still in her childhood bedroom in New York well into February.

Right now, bundled up in her blankets, she thinks maybe she’ll never move again. She glances at her phone when it lights up with a message, Yolanda from the performing diner asking where she’s been at and if she’s planning to ever take a shift again. If she’s gone that much longer, André will probably knock her off the roster… she does know that, right?

Yindra is aware, but presently, even that potential dismissal isn’t enough to shake off her ennui. She plops her phone facedown on the bed without responding, snuggling back into her blankets.

INT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

Speaking of the diner, what a coinky-dink -- that quirky eatery just happens to be one of Zachary’s favorite spots! It’s where he takes Isa once they’ve unloaded all their (literal) baggage and sent it back to his house, giving them the chance to catch up over a taste of Burbank cuisine.

At least, they would be if it were so easy to catch up. Although they’d been improving their conversational rapport over the phone the last few months, it’s harder to find that flow in person. Partially due to the surrealism, but mainly because Zachary is rather introverted and shy for an actor, and Isa has never been good at socializing. It feels even more blatant considering they’re literally flesh and blood, so it feels as though it should be natural as breathing.

With no other bright ideas, Isa comments on the diner. Pretty fun place. Zachary nods, bashful.

Zachary: It’s a bit kitschy, I know, but it’s a classic in my book. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a musical.

For sure. For sure… Isa nods, trying to ignore how unsustainable the topic is. They search for something else, going off the limited exposure they’ve had so far.

Isa: So, uh, your assistant. What was her name again?

Zachary: Sydney.

Isa: Sydney. Right. She seemed… cool. Have you worked with her long?

Zachary: [ with a nod ] Just about six years this April. She’s phenomenal. Really great at what she does, and a great friend too. Well, I suppose it’s somewhere between friend and mentorship -- not sure how comfortable I am calling a twenty-nine year old a “friend” -- but she’s great. Though I guess that goes without saying; wouldn’t have kept her around so long if she wasn’t.

Nice. Cool. Even Zachary’s personal assistant has been in his life more consistently than Isa. They clear their throat, the first related thought they have slipping out.

Isa: I can’t imagine having a personal assistant. Who was like, all in my business like that. Valerie had one on and off, I remember, but they never stayed long. They kept quitting -- I guess she was a lot to try to wrangle.

Zachary: Sure. I can imagine.

Isa: Yeah. Ha…

Need a Charlie Gardner “ha ha” in here for how smoothly this is going. Suddenly seems clear where Isa got the awkward gene from, no matter how Hollywood dashing Zachary looks. He does his best to aid the conversation too, though, aiming to keep it on life support.

Zachary: Yeah, Sydney came on around… Heartwarmer, if I’m not mistaken. I had just wrapped up press for the latest installment in the Hastings saga, and hadn’t had an assistant for a minute. But she was a life-saver, since the boys were little and everything in my life just felt like it was blowing up at once. She stuck with me through that, and I’ve been lucky to have her on board ever since.

He might be rambling just a bit to fill the silence, but he manages to hit on a nugget. Isa brightens at the mention of his filmography. She claims she’s seen the Hastings spy thrillers, especially because it was one set of movies most of her friends in high school could agree to watch. They thought Heartwarmer was good too, albeit a bit overwrought.

Isa: The cinematography was awesome, though, so that helped the script.

Zachary: Between us, I couldn’t agree more. I was excited about working with the director, but the script did leave something to be desired. There’s a reason the writers are going on strike all the time -- no one gives them nearly enough credit where it’s due.

Isa: Or financial compensation, for that matter.

Tell me about it, y’all. But finally we’re getting somewhere! With that in, the two of them are able to build a bridge, using films as a shared language. Isa admits they haven’t seen all of his films, which Zachary brushes off. No big deal. Honestly, it would probably be weirder for them both if they had.

Already, it’s clear Zachary’s approach to his career is far different than Valerie’s was. And based on how he puts the ball in Isa’s court, inviting them to talk about their favorite film genres rather than himself, this change of pace could be quite refreshing.

It’s not exactly deep, interpersonal connection, but it’s a start.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - JUSTIN’S OFFICE - DAY

Meanwhile, MAYA HART seems to be having a much better return to the city after winter break. She’s officially working on EP concepts with JUSTIN MILLER and MELISSA SUZUKI, outlining what the full project could look like so they’re ready to present something epic when Global Beat inevitably comes offering. Based on how well her single drops have done, they seem confident it’s just a matter of time.

And based on their eager, easygoing rapport, full of laughter and wit and enthusiasm, the collaboration is off to a strong start. No jabs of egotism; no awkward lapses.

Justin: I swear, Hart, you are like divine intervention. This energy is exactly the juice we needed. Dare I say, I love you for real.

Maya beams, flipping her hair. Her good mood ices over somewhat when JOSH MATTHEWS appears in the doorway, knocking on the doorframe. Given the cold look Maya gives him as she glances over her shoulder, then quickly turns away, he suddenly feels like an intruder.

Justin: Joshie, our man. What’s up?

Josh: Sorry to interrupt…

Melissa: Please. You know that’s not a thing. Door is always open.

Maybe so, but Maya’s is metaphorically closed. She clears her throat, gathering her things and backing past Josh out the door.

Maya: I’m going to start workshopping some of these ideas in the studio. Meet you in there?

Justin gives her a salute, Melissa nodding her along. Then their attention is all Josh’s, but he’s about two steps back, processing how effortlessly Maya dismissed him without ever actually acknowledging him. She has no need for him in her creative process, clearly.

Eventually, he remembers why he came, pulling the producers into a boring conversation about expense reports. Nothing nearly as exciting as whatever they were discussing and delighting in moments earlier that he wasn’t a part of.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Lucas is at the mailbox wall, picking up the stack in Evelyn’s cubby. He starts to sort through it as he walks back to his cube.

One letter in particular gives him pause. It’s been misplaced, addressed to Graham instead of Evelyn, but that’s not what really gets Lucas’s attention. The return address on the top left includes the acronym “CEACF,” and the stamp includes imagery of a little cross and the words “THANK YOU.”

Lucas is damn curious, but he knows it’s not his place to look. If he wants a one-way ticket straight to unemployment, though, by all means.

Still, if he just happened to be present… he puts the rest of the mail down on his desk and casually walks over to the cube where Graham’s ASSISTANT sits.

Lucas: Hey. Looks like we got a piece of your pile by mistake.

The assistant nods, reaching to take it from Lucas. She immediately starts to open it, not bothering to wait until Lucas walks away. She clearly doesn’t share his suspicious instincts -- like most normal people.

Assistant: Thanks. Jefferson always has me vet the mail to see if anything is worth actually passing on to his desk. Filter out the junk, you know?

Lucas nods along as if he gets it, but he’s more interested in trying to get a glimpse of what the letter might say. She skims it too fast, though, apparently determining that it’s not worth the mention and tossing it into the wastebasket next to her desk. Lucas watches it fall.

Assistant: Anyway. Thanks again.

Lucas: Huh? Oh, yeah… you’re welcome.

The assistant goes back to their work, not thinking anything of it. Lucas slowly heads back to his desk, but his gaze keeps drifting back to the trash can.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - DAY

Zachary and Isa arrive at the MacNamara home, Isa walking a bit slower as they take in the space. It’s got the trendy touches of a standard wealthy Burbank home, but it feels cozy, too. Lived in, like you can tell they actually decorated the space rather than some interior designer who charges thousands of dollars for the same generic look.

Within moments of their arrival, RUBY MACNAMARA and MILO MACNAMARA (7) come in from the kitchen. Ruby greets Isa with warm familiarity, which they do their best to be receptive towards, though they’re grateful Ruby doesn’t try to initiate a hug. She has enough common sense for that.

Milo, at 7, has less social instincts, and doesn’t know nearly enough about Isa to assume. So he basically barrels into Isa the moment he’s close enough, giving them a little bear hug around the waist. Isa freezes up, waiting like a deer caught in headlights until Milo releases them.

Milo: Hi! My dad told me you were coming! Mom said we were getting a new sibling!

Ruby: For all technical intents and purposes --

Milo: I’m so excited. I already like having one older sibling. I can’t wait to have another.

Well, that’s sweet. Isa manages a smile. Speaking of said older sibling, LOUIS MACNAMARA (12) follows out from the kitchen area at a much slower pace. He hangs back by the doorway and just observes, not radiating any of his mom’s or brother’s enthusiasm and preferring to get a read on this new interloper from a distance.

Zachary gently pulls Milo back and tosses Isa an apologetic look, but they shake their head lightly. No big deal. He quickly does a round of introductions.

Zachary: And the shadow back there is Louis. No idea why he’s being so shy -- he usually doesn’t know when to stop talking.

Louis: [ scoffing indignantly ] Do not.

Zachary: You’ll like Isa, Lou. They’ve only seen about two of my films, and none of the bad ones.

Ruby cracks up at that, though Louis doesn’t seem moved.

Ruby: Well, we’ll have to change that while you’re here, won’t we? How can you know your dad without knowing his greatest hits? Like the ever-coveted dance film, Groove Me?

Zachary: [ with a blush ] Hey, that’s a cult classic. Some of my most supportive fans found me through that movie.

Isa: It’ll be weird watching them now that I know you’re like, my dad, but I’m always up for a movie marathon.

Milo: Yeah! Movie marathon!!

Ruby points out that Sydney brought their bags already, so how about they do a quick tour of the place and get them situated in their room for while they’re here?

Louis ignores this entire conversation, pointedly trying to engage Zachary on something entirely unrelated. He starts talking about his schoolwork as if Isa isn’t even there. They try not to take that personally -- they figure if a new sibling just showed up on their doorstep, they wouldn’t know how to react either.

Ruby and Milo are plenty of distraction anyway. Milo basically leads the way as tour guide, pulling Isa towards the stairs.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Back at Turner Academy, it’s immediately evident that the semester is off to the races. ROSARIO GAO is running the transfer hopefuls through a fast-paced, precise routine, far more intense than anything we saw them work on during first semester. Everyone is sweating, and the wood floor is practically vibrating with the constant rattle of their footwork pounding in unison.

That said, it’s a smaller crowd than before. It appears that some folks decided to step down after first semester, leaving only a handful of about ten dancers in their place. Naturally, that includes Zay and Vanessa, as well as GIA VALDEZ. All of them wear matching expressions of deep concentration as they round out the routine, sliding right through to the end of the class period.

As they break formation and go to grab drinks from their water bottles by the mirrors, Gao moves to the center of the studio and addresses the elephant that has been approaching the room all year long -- the transfer auditions.

Rosario: With only a few weeks left in the academic year, it’s time for you all to start preparing for your final transfer audition. The structure will be similar to the audition format of when you first applied to Turner, but of course, the stakes are different. You’re no longer making a first impression, where you could work off of a clean slate. Now, you’re working to prove how you’ve grown, and how the slate you’ve already got is worth admission.

That, fittingly, will be part of the process. They’re all expected to craft their own audition routine, incorporating all of the skills they’ve built upon during the semester and showing off what they believe are their strengths. But they also want to see how they convey themselves through the art -- how their individuality makes them an even stronger performer. Because of this, much like an essay component, the routine will have a thematic element attached.

Rosario: Your goal is to tell us who you are. Whatever you choose as your routine, it should display the attributes and events that have brought us where we are today. Through the choreography, your stage presence, and mastery of the routine, we should be able to understand your story -- what about you has pushed you to the stage, and why that next step involves transferring into Turner’s program.

Creative, but daunting. Vanessa’s brow furrows, already lost in thought; Zay seems hesitant as well, but even so, there’s that tell-tale spark of excitement in his eyes that he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to. It’ll be a challenge, but this is what he lives for. Translating emotion into choreography is basically his second language.

As for the schedule, they’ll refer to the syllabus for details, but all of them will have their auditions in the Turner auditorium come March. That will give the panel about a month to narrow them down, and then the three top finalists will be announced at a celebratory gala for the school at the end of March.

Rosario: This will give those of you who are not selected ample opportunity to figure out your change of plans by the end of term.

Cheery... finally, of those three announced, two will be chosen to advance into the Turner program as sophomores by early May, before finals begin.

Rosario: As I’m sure many of you already noticed, there’s much more space in this studio now than there was at the start of the year. This is unsurprising. This program isn’t easy, and those who realize they’re not cut out for it usually figure it out pretty quickly. For those that are still here, your dedication at least deserves a nod of credit. You certainly don’t back down from a challenge.

Those who truly want it, who want to live and breathe dance, will stick it out. As for whether they’ll be strong enough to advance…

Rosario: That part is up to you. [ a beat ] Dismissed.

Game on. Zay and Vanessa exchange a look, sweat still glistening on their skin, as they take contemplative sips from their water bottles.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Lucas passes by the assistant’s desk again, inconspicuously eyeing the wastebasket as they chat with another assistant in the cube near them. His klepto compulsions are itching at him, downright assuring him that he needs to know what’s on that letter. His instincts, albeit a dash criminal, have rarely led him astray when they tingle like this.

But he can’t just go digging through his colleague’s trash. Frustrated, he keeps walking and escapes into the elevator lobby, pushing into the stairwell.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - LOWER FLOOR - DAY

Lucas emerges in the hallway of the floor below, exhaling a sigh and giving himself the chance to think. He paces the nondescript corridor, trying to come up with a plan.

This is the guy who stole boots from a store adjacent to 5th Avenue. He broke into the Adams sealed-off attic at fifteen. Surely, he can find a way to get a piece of paper without being noticed. There’s no way he’s so thoroughly lost his feral edge in just a couple of tame years. He just needs a distraction. Something to give him one shot to get what he needs.

Just a spark… Lucas lets his gaze drift to the opposite wall, where the deep red of a fire pull alarm innocently catches his attention.

Long time, no see, old friend. Lucas glances around him to make sure there’s no cameras in this corner of the building, then the ghost of a smirk slips onto his lips.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

The fire alarm erupts with a blare overhead, causing the assistant and other support staff to jump in their seats. EVELYN RAND emerges from her office in a flurry, convening with DR. SHARON LANGLEY and HARRISON YANCY. Is this real, or a drill? Do we really need to evacuate? You know, now that you mention it, I feel like I smell smoke…

Alas, procedure calls. All of them shuffle towards the stairwell, making their way to a safe and orderly exit. Just as the assistant disappears and the stairwell door shuts behind her, the elevator door slides open, Lucas taking the strategic and not-sanctioned approach of riding the elevator back upstairs to avoid running into anyone.

He darts quickly into the offices and crouches down next to Graham’s assistant’s cube, retrieving the letter from CEACF. Then he moves back to his desk, grabbing a blank piece of paper and folding it in a similar style. Near perfect match.

He then tosses the replacement paper into the wastebasket as he jogs towards the stairs, going after his colleagues to evacuate the building.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - UPSTAIRS HALL - DAY

Milo relishes in giving Isa the tour, pointing out his room, Louis’s room, and the guest bathroom. He also points out the “creative room,” in his words, which appears to be a mix between a music room and playroom. There’s an electric piano, a handful of guitars, and a currently unused easel. Without a doubt, this is a quite creative family -- so that instinct doesn’t just come from Val.

Milo has construction paper spread out on a small kids table, where he’s in the middle of a big coloring project. In fact, he gets distracted by it as they pass by, starting to show Isa some details on it before becoming totally engrossed in it and getting back to coloring.

Isa leaves him to his crafting, finishing up looking around on their own.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST ROOM - DAY

They manage to find their room, where their bags have been dropped off. It’s a pretty standard guest room, but there’s plenty of room for customization.

Isa also notices that they’ve hung up a few photos already for them -- the ones of their Thanksgiving gathering with Eric and that family, the one taken by Joe at Chubbies of their friends, amongst others that they’ve sent through letters over the past few months. It’s a surprise to see them there, but not at all unwelcome.

Ruby: Thought it might be nice to have a bit of home already here to greet you, when you’re facing so much new.

Isa looks to the doorway, where Ruby is leaning. They offer a smile, nodding and thanking her for thinking of it. It is definitely appreciated.

Ruby suggests that Isa can decorate the space however they want while they’re here. It’s their room, as they have a couple other guest rooms in the house and wanted one that could be a safe recluse for Isa.

Ruby: Also, if all goes well, we hope this won’t be the only time you come stay with us.

That’s nice, but Isa is just trying to get through this first trip without everything blowing up. Their track record isn’t great on that front. They smile through their uncertainty anyway. From your lips to God’s ears, Ruby…

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Fire false alarm over and done with, everyone on the floor is milling about and chatting amicably as they resettle back into their work. A little fresh air really livens up a space!

Lucas makes his way back into the office, carrying a couple of coffees in a to-go tray -- three to be exact. He places one on his cube top for Evelyn and then doubles back to Graham’s assistant, innocently playing off like he’s being oh so kind by thinking to grab her an extra while he was down there. Figures after the weird day of drills, they could all use a pick-me-up.

Assistant: Oh, wow. Thanks, Lucas, that’s sweet.

Well, it would be, if he didn’t have an ulterior motive. As he’s handing the extra coffee over her cube to her, he fumbles, and “accidentally” drops the coffee with a loose lid. It thankfully lands in her wastebasket rather than on her -- right over the paper he swapped out.

Lucas: Oh, shoot! So sorry about that.

Assistant: Oh, please, it’s fine. Ha ha.

Lucas: Let me get that. Here -- you can have mine.

Lucas hands her the third coffee he was never actually planning on drinking, despite her polite protests. Then he grabs some napkins and soaks up any residue coffee that may have flown out, depositing them right on top of the thoroughly soiled decoy paper.

Tracks -- covered. Once he’s done, the assistant gives him a bright smile.

Assistant: You really didn’t have to do that. You’re the best.

Lucas: No problem. (:

EXT. MACNAMARA HOME - DAY

Isa follows Zachary out towards the garage, Ruby and Milo hanging by the doorway. Ruby reminds them to be home for dinner -- no excuses! -- but to have fun with their first afternoon out in L.A. Zachary is hoping to give Isa a taste of the city and some of the highlights from his perspective.

Zachary: Hopefully ones you haven’t already seen, at least a few.

Isa: I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’d bet you and Valerie didn’t have much of the same taste in what classifies as essential L.A.

The comment trips them up somewhat, Zachary clearly not sure how to respond to anything about the ghost of a woman between them. Ruby shouts for Zachary to take the convertible.

Zachary: This isn’t a Travelocity ad, Ruby.

Ruby: First of all, no one uses Travelocity anymore, hon. It’s 2022. Second, it’s part of the experience! Go all out with it! Let your hair down for once!

Zachary: It’s February.

Ruby: We live in Los Angeles. February isn’t real.

Touché. Zachary gives Isa a tired look, but they can’t miss the chance to be in on the joke. So they side with Ruby, claiming they should take the convertible. For the authentic experience. Why not?

Ruby: That’s what I’m talking about. I like you, Isa. You’ve got the spark.

No idea what that means, but Isa will take it. Resigned, Zachary relents, unlocking the baby blue convertible and getting into the driver’s seat. Ruby and Milo wave them goodbye, disappearing back inside the house.

When Zachary turns on the car and the radio comes on, it seems Valerie’s ghost is really not playing around. Because the radio DJ is just wrapping up a fan request to hear her cover of a particular song, cueing it up just for them.

DJ: Rest in peace to an absolute legend. For sure, we will always be remembering you, Valerie De La Cruz.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Remember Me” as performed by Coco Original Motion Picture Soundtrack || Performed by Valerie De La Cruz

Honestly… Isa and Zachary exchange a look, then can’t help but laugh. It’s just so… ridiculous.

Isa: I remember when she released this, she nearly got cancelled on Twitter. Because she’s Filipina and not Mexican.

Zachary: Wow.

Isa: I don’t think she was thinking remotely that deep about it. I think she just really loved the movie and the character’s name was De La Cruz. She had to release an apology video and everything. Song still charted though.

Zachary: You just illuminated exactly why I don’t have a Twitter.

And he is so smart for that. With Valerie’s vocals backing, it feels almost impossible to ignore the elephant in the room… and this is all part of why Isa came here. They try to find the courage to bring her up, to really ask about the history between her and Zachary, but he deftly changes the subject by starting to back out of the driveway and discuss where they’re going next.

So much for that. Isa leans back in their seat, as Valerie’s vocals grow louder and fill the soundscape…

EXT. L.A. HIGHLIGHTS - MONTAGE - DAY

And she continues to sing through Zachary’s tour of L.A., providing an upbeat, almost unbearably energetic backing track to the montage. It’s a bop, sure, but it sure feels just like this initial outing in the city feels -- glossy, surface-level, safe. Well, except for potential Twitter cancellations.

Definitely won’t be letting it make them cry -- I don’t think tear ducts could even function when this overproduced radio hit is blasting. Thanks, Val.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Manufactured or not, the Markle apartment could use some of that energy. It feels especially gloomy these days, lacking the usual zest as it feels like no one is ever around. Farkle is always out either at class or rehearsals with opening night so close, and any second not in those categories is almost unequivocally spent with Jordan.

Maya spends as much time at Global Beat as possible to avoid that fact, but she’s not always so lucky. She mopes into the kitchen that afternoon, glancing towards Farkle’s open but empty bedroom. As she turns back to the fridge, a note catches her attention -- a sticky he’s left for her courteously giving her a heads up as to his schedule.

At Jordan’s to rehearse last-minute for L5Y -- need all the practice I can get Good luck at the studio today!

Ugh. Maya’s distaste is palpable. She rips the note off the fridge and crumples it up, tossing it into the trash can. As it lands with a thud --

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST ROOM - DAY

Some of Isa’s belongings land on the desk in their makeshift room. More little bits and pieces of them occupy the space, marking the slow but steady passage of time. Isa has added a couple photographs from home to the collection already pinned up, including one of them with Jack, Eric, and Lucas, and the one with Farkle at the London Eye. They’re settling in, albeit cautiously.

A couple of days have passed, and right now, they’re seated at the small writing desk, penning another letter.

Isa, voiceover: Dear Riley. I know it’s dumb for me to write a letter when I could just call you in five seconds, but my therapist is convinced this letter-writing process works for me, so I’m doing that instead. To be honest, I think she might be right, but I’m not planning on telling her that any time soon. Besides, I know you’re probably packed as hell between Ghost and the election, so hopefully you’ll get this after all that has settled down (at least the election). I really hope Jack wins -- I don’t think Manhattan can handle another Graham on their board.

Okay, enough hedging. Time to talk about real stuff. Isa takes a deep breath, collecting their thoughts, then continues.

Isa, voiceover: At risk of jinxing everything or being delusional, I think things are going okay so far. I mean it. Things are awkward because I can’t help myself, but it’s salvageable. Zachary is trying, which I appreciate. Ruby is cool, and pretty good with boundaries (she has some of your vibes). Milo, the little brother, is… a lot, but he’s nice. He’s kind of like Farkle’s brother, Ezra, cute but I have no idea what to do with him. Thankfully, I don’t think he gets that vibe from me.

Isa glances at their photographs, hesitating on the one with Farkle in particular.

Isa, voiceover: I haven’t gotten to see Farkle yet. But I know he’s busy with dress rehearsals. I think I’m going to opening night, so I’ll at least get to see him then. Hopefully once the show settles, we’ll be able to hang out more. That’s something else I’m looking forward to while I’m here -- I messed up that friendship so bad before, and I want to make a real effort while I’m here. I owe him that.

But of course, that’s not the main mission… Isa chews their lip, getting to the thornier business.

Isa, voiceover: Even though I’m not feeling disastrous about this whole thing, I’m still not sure I’m doing it right. Like, I know Zachary is my dad, but he… mainly just feels like some guy. He doesn’t even feel like Z.D. Roman celebrity actor or whatever. He’s just… this dude. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Guess it’s better than him feeling like a larger-than-life superstar like Valerie. But it doesn’t feel at all like how things like this always go in the movies, where we just automatically click and it’s like everything suddenly makes sense. For the record, everything still very much does not make sense.

The only language they can seem to communicate with is films, which they’ve been watching a few of with the whole clan every night. Well, except for Louis, who doesn’t seem at all interested. Isa doesn’t think he likes them very much. Can’t blame him, just given… them.

Isa, voiceover: So things aren’t terrible right now, but I’m not sure they’re great either. But I can work with neutral. Neutral has potential for greatness -- I’m sure you’d tell me something like that if you were here. The thing is, I can’t seem to get him to talk about Valerie at all, which seems… you know, problematic, considering she is half of the reason I’m here (literally). Not to mention there’s no convenient movie metaphor for me to just segue into that conversation. I’m not sure how much longer I can just make everything fit into the metaphor of a movie.

But for now, it’s all they’ve got, so a cinematic lens it is. They wish Riley luck with everything and sign the letter, folding it carefully and stuffing it into an envelope.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - LOCKER ROOM - DAY

As the week rolls on, the competitive edge has followed the Turner transfers into the locker room after class, though for now there at least remains a fun border to their banter. The trash talk is mostly for show, and to keep things from feeling too serious, so everyone can laugh about it.

For now.

Even so, the vibe of their gatherings has shifted. Friendly as they all might be acting, they’re assessing one another in a way they weren’t before, so now every action feels more under scrutiny.

This becomes more apparent the moment Zay and Vanessa start to say goodbye. They exchange quiet murmurs while the rest of their peers continue to chatter.

Zay: I’m gonna run -- have somewhere I need to be.

Vanessa: Don’t you have stats this afternoon?

Zay: Yeah, but I’m blowing it off today. Bigger fish to fry. You’ll get it when we catch up later.

Vanessa doesn’t seem convinced -- grades still matter right now, unfortunately -- and his dismissive attitude doesn’t impress her much. But she isn’t going to argue him on it; his problem, not hers.

Zay: Anyway, I’ll text. See you in a bit.

Vanessa: Okay, sure.

With that, they start to go in for a kiss goodbye… but then halfway through they falter, suddenly aware of all the eyes on them. All their fellow transfers taking stock of their little relationship, so blatantly on display. So obviously full of vulnerabilities, and contradictions, and big-time distractions.

At least, that’s what it feels like they’re all thinking, since the two of them are always thinking it a little themselves. Especially this semester. So they stumble over the kiss, Vanessa awkwardly still following through while Zay instinctively pulls back, landing somewhere in the midst of a weird, off-balance cheek kiss. Both of them pause, exchanging eye contact and knowing without speaking that that was stilted as fuck….

But whatever. It’s fine. Zay gives her one more pat on the arm and promises her he’ll hit her up, making a beeline for the exit. Vanessa does her best to play it cool, shooting a defensive look at her peers preemptively and then going back to her things. Gia smirks to herself, not dedicating one iota of effort to hiding her amusement.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Lucas is reclined on the couch, reading over the letter he pilfered from the assistant. It’s clear he’s turned it over more than once in the last couple of days, trying to make sense of it.

And while the contents make his Spidey senses continue to tingle, there’s nothing about it on the surface that’s inherently bad. It’s from a high-up manager at this fund, with the acronym, thanking Graham for all his work on the school board so far. Their community is highly pleased with the stances he’s taken, the votes he’s made, and the initiatives he seems most bent on getting accomplished -- private school vouchers seem to be a big ticket item, as well as legislating for prayer in schools and something about gender and bathrooms.

None of that is particularly damning, though; everyone knows Graham leans conservative. More interesting to Lucas is a mention of Connelly, where it seems to imply that once he gets elected to his seat, many more legislative agenda items will be able to come to pass along the lines of what was noted earlier. And so long as Graham keeps fighting the good fight, he’ll continue to be supported wholeheartedly by them and their means.

After some final jargon about deposits and “information channels,” the letter concludes with a warm sincerely and a stamped signature: Ronald W. Brennan, Chief Financial Officer.

Again, nothing outright problematic (aside from their questionable policy positions), but something about the language in the letter just makes his skin crawl. He knows something about the whole thing isn’t right, but he can’t put his finger on what…

The front door opens, Charlie coming back from the library -- at least, one would assume, considering the canvas bag just about bursting with books. He gives Lucas a nod, who sits up. He eyes his bag.

Lucas: Good haul?

Charlie: Oh, yeah. It’s like, impossible to leave a branch without one. [ wistfully ] We are so lucky to live in a society where there are libraries.

Lucas: [ sure, right ] Didn’t you just check out like seven other books this weekend?

Charlie: … yes?

And? What’s your point, Lucas? Anyway, back to the matter at hand. If he’s feeling stumped, maybe it’ll help to have a second opinion take a look at this stuff.

Lucas: Hey, you’re like, moral, right?

That’s one way to start a conversation. Charlie pauses, processing that and running through about seven levels of dissociation, self-doubt, and psychoanalysis in the span of a few seconds, before landing on a diplomatic answer.

Charlie: I’ve dabbled in certain schools of thought on the subject, I suppose. [ with apprehension ] Dare I ask, why?

Lucas gets up, handing the letter over to Charlie and inviting him to read it for himself. He cops up front that he isn’t sure there will be anything to see, but something about the whole thing has been bothering him since Riley mentioned the ads earlier. Everything just feels… off. Charlie offers to take a look, then hesitates as soon as the paper meets his fingers.

Charlie: You didn’t steal this, did you? You know mail tampering is illegal.

Lucas: Charlie, please. Give me a little credit. I know perfectly well that stealing mail is a no-no. I obtained this piece of correspondence through entirely defensible methods.

Well. Just going to have to take his word for it. He’s the one who chose to room with a known ne’er-do-well. Charlie sighs, turning his attention to the letter. He paces lightly as he skims it, Lucas impatiently waiting for him to finish.

Lucas: Well?

Charlie: It’s… I mean, objectively, there’s nothing wrong with this. It just seems like typical business dialogue. Clearly, this entity has a positive relationship with Jefferson Graham.

Lucas: Right. And that is, technically, not an issue.

Charlie: Right. [ a beat ] Although…

Here we go. Lucas perks up, nodding for him to go on. Charlie seems reluctant, as stirring the pot is fundamentally against his way of being, but he braves speaking on.

Charlie: I think I get what you mean. About it… like, feeling weird. Not that I can exactly say why, but there’s something.

Lucas: Yes. Thank you!

Charlie: Not that I think that means you should go digging -- that might be more trouble than it’s worth, especially if there’s nothing to find. But it’s like… [ looking at the letter again ] The language around the Connelly election seems pointed. It seems like a big bet of confidence to already be bargaining on what you’ll do when he’s elected. Not that people don’t talk like that all the time, but written in paper so certainly like this.

Lucas: Right.

Charlie: And this stuff about information channels and deposits is definitely off. It sounds financial. Same with being “supported” by them -- that’s a loaded term. Support can mean a whole lot of things.

So maybe this little dynamic they’ve uncovered is less “positive,” and more “transactional.” But to what degree, and for what aim… either way, Charlie’s little language-loving brain came in handy. And he might just have more to offer, considering the name rings a bell for him too.

Lucas: You know him? This Brennan guy?

Charlie: No… not off the top of my head. But it sounds familiar. Not sure why. Give me a bit of time, I’ll try to see if I can remember.

In the meantime, Lucas should try not to get into any trouble over this. Lucas nods, like he’s in total agreement, but based on the spring in his step as he takes the letter back, he’s not going to be letting this mystery trail go any time soon.

INT. PINHEAD THREADS - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

It’s Jade’s first official day at Pinhead Threads, and the excitement is palpable. She’s put together a cute ensemble -- that corduroy dress Riley helped her pick out during the summer layered over a patterned blouse, and a fabric headband to keep her hair out of her face -- and does her best to walk into it with confidence.

Already, the vibes are markedly different than Anya Kelly’s studio. While hers was glossy, high-end, and well-established, Pinhead definitely has a DIY, underdog upstart vibe. There’s a welcome desk right at the front where a paid intern is working, but there’s no shiny elevator or glass doors separating the workshop from the lobby.

The whole operation is on display from the get-go, each designer getting their own worktables that are cobbled together at the center of the floor. There are wooden beams and high ceilings, giving the place a larger, airy feel than its actual square footage. Colors and patterns abound, spilling out of cabinets, bins, and draped on mannequins. Little scraps leftover from projects have been turned into makeshift decor, threaded together and hanging from the banisters like spinners. To the left, a set of sliding barn doors conceals the costume storage; to the far right, another door that is wide open sections off the office of the founder and lead designer.

Who comes to greet Jade as soon as the intern dials back to let her know she’s here. LUZ RODRIGUEZ (late 30s) comes jogging from the office to meet her, smile as bright as her clothes and undoubtedly infectious. She’s a curvy, vivacious Latina with a sharp eye for style and even sharper wit. Although she’s basically Jade’s height, her natural charisma makes her feel about six feet tall -- though the heels help too.

Luz: Jade Beamon. Welcome, welcome, welcome! It’s so great to finally meet you!

Luz asks if she can give her a hug -- she’s a hugger, unfortunately, but she’ll always ask first -- and Jade shrugs. Why not? After they share a quick embrace, Luz starts to lead her back into the studio, thanking the intern cheerfully on the way.

Luz: That’s Cherry, you’ll get to know her fast since you’ll see her every morning. We’re hoping to bring her onto the team once she graduates next year, provided the internship goes as well as it has been and our profit margins stay consistent. [ gesturing proudly ] And here is the rest of the crew! I know they’re eager to meet you too, granted we can get Waverly to take off her headphones.

That’s a task they can accomplish -- it would be hard to ignore the lively chatter at Jade’s arrival. The other three designers quickly come from their worktables to greet her. There’s CLARIBEL MONTEZ (28), who has been here the longest and radiates a bubbly, easygoing warmth; CARLOS HERRERA (25), talkative and tenacious except when he’s being distracted by harmless gossip; and lastly, WAVERLY WASHINGTON (20), an effortlessly cool upstart who could give Lucas’s deadpan a run for its money.

Claribel assures Jade that they’re all looking forward to getting to know her, in fact, they want to have a designer lunch ASAP where they can take her out to celebrate joining the team. First, though, she has onboarding to do, so they send her along with Luz to get set-up with her credentials and start putting together her workstation.

All in all, immediately different vibes from the pristine, cold gloss of Anya Kelly Design Studios.

INT. YINDRA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Yindra is on the phone with DARIUS AMINO, the two of them discussing her plans to come back to Los Angeles. She’s done her best to try and explain her reservations over the last couple weeks, even as she doesn’t totally understand her emotions herself. And he’s given her grace, trying to be patient and understanding, but after a certain point the buck needs to stop somewhere. They can’t keep living in this frozen state; not in this economy.

Darius: You know I hate an ultimatum, but unfortunately, I think that’s where we’re at. I genuinely don’t care what you want to do -- if you want to give it another try, I will support that. If you decide this isn’t for you, then I will be there for you one-hundred percent. But you need to choose, baby. You need to tell me straight up what’s going down, so that I can start making whatever preparations necessary to get us in secure shape.

Yindra: I know. I know, you’re right. I… I’ll figure it out. This week. Promise.

He’s holding her to it. For now, she’s spared, as her grandmother yells from the other room that her friend is here. Yindra exchanges a quick goodbye with her dad and hangs up just as Zay steps into her room, inviting himself inside.

Yindra: Wow, barge in much. Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?

Zay: Knock knock.

Yindra: You’re such a smartass. What if I had been changing, huh? Or performing the necessary blood rituals to keep myself so young and beautiful? You better be careful, or you’re gonna be my next sacrifice.

Zay: I’d like to see you try.

Banter aside, they’ve got plans to get to. Yindra asks where Zay wants to grab lunch, because she is starving. He’s indifferent, but before they take this any further, he declares he needs to be upfront with her first.

Yindra: Uh-oh.

Zay: Yindra Amino, this is an intervention. We’re going to have lunch, but I will be intervening at the same time.

Yindra gives him a bewildered look. What the hell is he on about? Zay matches it with a disdainful one of his own, not buying her ignorance.

Zay: Girl. Be so for real. You know why I’m doing this.

Yindra: Umm, do I? I think you just like melodrama.

Zay: We’re doing this because of the fact that we can even have lunch together, on this February afternoon, because for some God forsaken reason you’re still here.

Yindra: Damn. It’s like you’re trying to get rid of me. Don’t you love me anymore, Zay…

Zay: Shut the fuck up. You’re still here doing nothing when there is a literal agent waiting for you in L.A., and you’re just sitting on that.

Yindra: That’s not true. I have responded to him. There have been conversations.

Zay: Buying yourself time by lying about your grandparent dying doesn’t count. First of all, at some point, you’re gonna run out of grandparents.

Yindra: Yeah, don’t think grandma would be too happy about that one…

Zay: And that’s how I know you’re on the path to destruction and need intervention. Because you’re playing from the Charlie Gardner playbook of excuses, and if you haven’t figured it out already, his playbook fucking sucks.

Damn, shoot some strays why don’t you… he’s not even here, Zay! But he’s not wrong. Yindra can’t deny it either, crossing her arms with a huff.

Zay: I do this only because I love you. I love you, and I know that my best friend Yindra Amino would be shaking herself silly if she saw the way you’re acting right now.

Yindra: I know. I know, all right! I don’t know what the issue is. Why I’m like, in paralysis mode.

Zay: I know you don’t. So we’re going to get some grub, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Together.

Zay holds his hand out, inviting her to trust him in her much-needed intervention. It feels daunting, but at this point, what choice does she have…

She takes a deep breath, relenting and slapping her hand into his.

INT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is backstage in the wings during The Last Five Years dress rehearsal, on the phone with JENNIFER MINKUS. He’s not on deck, so he has time to chat between scenes. She tells him that the whole family passes on their good luck for dress rehearsals and his opening night, and that they cannot wait to see the show. Farkle smiles, thanking her.

Jennifer: Are you sure you don’t want us to come out there for opening night? It would be a bit of a quick reschedule, but we could make it work. Especially with --

Farkle: Mom, it’s not a problem. Really. We already talked about this back when I was home. Dad has the big board meeting, and if you come next week then Ezekiel can tag along too. It works out better this way. I promise I hold no ill will.

Opening night is opening night; there will be other shows. Besides, he has folks here who will be able to see it, including best friends who usually are three-thousand miles away. Not to mention Jordan, who he’s pretty sure is planning something for that weekend given all the important dates on the calendar. He’s in good hands.

Jennifer doesn’t seem completely convinced, in that typical smother way, but she takes his word for it. She just hopes that Jordan and his friends treat him extra special this week, considering the occasion. It’s a big weekend for him, and he deserves all the love. Farkle beams, assuring her he’s confident they will.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

For now, Isa’s focus remains with family. Once the boys are done with their schooling for the day, Ruby suggests they dive headfirst back into Isa’s Zachary-filmography training.

As they settle onto the couch, Ruby asks the boys if they’d like to join them. Milo is all about it, eagerly going and plopping down onto the couch next to Isa -- who seems a bit apprehensive, but does their best to be open to the friendliness -- but Louis’s response is less than enthused.

Louis: Why would I wanna do that when I’ve seen all of his films a million times already?

Well, okay, not all of us are gold-star sons, Louis. Ruby gives him a look, like I know you didn’t just use that tone with me, to which Louis has no excuse. So he backs off instead, huffing and heading towards the stairs to his room.

Ruby casts Isa an apologetic look, grabbing the remote.

Ruby: Pre-teens. I swear, I don’t know what happens to you all once you hit eleven.

Isa: No worries. I feel like I’m still there, sometimes.

Milo: When do I get to be a pre-teen?

Ruby: If I’m lucky, never. You need to stay this cute and polite and sweet forever.

She gives him a hug and a kiss on the head as she plops down on his other side, a buffer between her and Isa. He grimaces at the affection, wriggling back into some cool independence to maintain a good impression on Isa (who is mainly just amused by his reaction).

They let Milo pick the Z.D. film of the afternoon, and his answer is immediate. The Hastings saga, obviously! Spy films are the best ones ever!

Hard to argue with that. Ruby selects the first film in the series and they settle in to watch, Isa doing their best to relax. Movies are manageable. Movies are a medium they can understand. This is a good start.

As the intense, mysterious film score kicks off…

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

That tune becomes the underscore for the next scene at Charlie and Lucas’s place. Think The Incredibles vibes, just more quirky intrigue than action-adventure (if you’re looking to explore, “Marital Rescue,” “Lithe Or Death,” and “Lava in the Afternoon” from the soundtrack are some good samples).

We’re up close on the CEACF logo on the outer fold of the letter, now in Riley’s purple-manicured hands. She’s reviewing the contents for herself, Charlie and Lucas having roped her in to get a second (or third) opinion. Once she’s done, she agrees that the language seems bizarre, but she isn’t sure there’s anything actionable just based on this letter alone.

Charlie: So you don’t think there’s anything illegal going on.

Riley: I didn’t say that. I just think that based on this letter alone, as your only piece of evidence, you don’t have a case. [ with a wince ] I hate how much I just sounded like my mom there.

Still, she gets where they’re coming from about thinking something is up. It wouldn’t surprise her, either, considering Connelly’s campaign has been doing so much advertising lately. If they’re flooding the airwaves with all this negative Jack content like it’s nothing, they have to be getting a pretty steady inflow of cash to make it happen. There’s nothing on their public finance records that indicates it.

Riley: [ scowling at the letter ] Honestly, I know this letter wasn’t meant for us to even see it, but it kind of feels like a taunt. I feel like they’re dangling catnip in front of us, like oh, don’t you wish you knew what we were up to? Don’t you wish you could do something about it? Well, you can’t. Ha ha ha.

Lucas: See, you said that exactly right. This is why we’re dating.

Riley beams at him, blowing him a kiss. Charlie glances at both of them, like all right freaks, but he doesn’t disagree. He doesn’t read the mocking vibes from it the way they do, but based on Riley’s takeaway, there’s clearly something amiss in the finance of it all.

Which if they want to dig into that in their free time, by all means, but unfortunately Riley is too busy to get distracted with yet another project. She pulls her coat back on and makes them promise to keep her updated if they do decide to look into it. Once she’s gone, Charlie takes the letter from Lucas, looking it over one last time as if the answers will just suddenly appear in bold lettering.

Charlie: I guess you kind of know what to do next? It’s like they say in Hamilton -- “follow the money and see where it goes.”

Lucas: [ with a flat expression ] Why would you say that to me?

If they’re gonna do this, rule number one: no Hamilton references. Charlie raises his hands in surrender.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Naturally, a potentially (ideally) final meal out and about in Manhattan would be at Chubbies. This is where Zay and Yindra have taken up shop, though Yindra can’t resist making a crack about how being in diners now gives her PTSD.

Zay: Please. You’re so dramatic.

Yindra: Pot, kettle. And once you go through performing humiliating cheesy numbers on command for months at a time, then you can talk.

That’s as good an in as any. Zay wonders if that’s all Yindra took away from her time out there, if it really all just feels like a waste of time. Faced with Zay’s bluntness, Yindra has to admit she might be exaggerating, a tad, but the emotion behind it is real. The hesitation to jump back across the continent comes from somewhere real.

Yindra: I’ve always thought I was tough. Like, not an insane diva like Maya and Farkle -- and you --

Zay: Thanks.

Yindra: But that I could keep up. I had just as many roles as y’all at Adams, and I paid my dues otherwise. I know I’m not shabby at putting together a song, and I know I can sing. That’s like, the one thing I know for sure.

Zay: And you’d be right.

Yindra: But no one else out there knows that. And the truth is, no one cares. You can be the most talented bitch on Earth, and out there, you still get passed up because someone had better connections or has a hotter bod or just because you were one audition slot too late. It’s like… all of this… meaningless randomness to it that I can’t stomach.

There was competition at Adams, but she always felt like she had a shot. Even if she was overlooked, she still felt seen, and she was pretty good at reading the cards about whether or not to even try. Now, in the much, much deeper pool of Los Angeles, it’s like she’s drowning and there’s no lifeguard around to save her. They don’t even see her flailing.

Zay: That’s not true, though. This Dalton-King guy saw you. He saw you and he liked what he saw, considering he’s still interested even after you’ve been playing games for a month longer than expected.

Yindra: Sure, maybe, but what if it’s more of the same? What if getting in with him just means more relentless rejection, just with a pat on the back at the same time? And who knows what “ideas” he has in store for me, if I’ll even like them or feel like I’m just selling myself out.

Zay: Okay, with respect, you are worrying over nothing.

Yindra: Nothing?!

Zay: Everything you just said there hasn’t even happened yet. You’re worrying about what ifs, rather than anything that is remotely predictable or within your control. Again, you gotta stop hanging out with Charlie, because his bad habits are clearly rubbing off on you even if he’s reportedly doing better with them. And I say that with nothing but love for the guy.

Touché… Yindra slouches in her booth.

Zay: I feel like you need to reprogram your mindset. Get back to finding “what if” as full of possibility, not possibly full of tragedy. The glass is half-full, not empty or one second from spilling over. You and I used to both think that way -- we have to figure out how to get you back there.

Yindra: I’m not saying you’re wrong. But going on an endless string of dead-end auditions that go nowhere when you desperately need to go somewhere will drain any belief you have.

Basically, it’s like she’s given herself paralysis. Despite how bleakly she refers to it, Zay hums wistfully at the prospect.

Zay: Honestly, I miss it. The audition runs.

Yindra: Yeah, that’s why you’re one of the insane divas. Besides, what is there to miss? Isn’t your whole life a competition right now?

Zay: Like, I guess, but it’s not the same. Auditions are about the rush, pure adrenaline. The freedom and frenzy of just… putting yourself out there and throwing everything you’ve got into that one moment. Leaving it all on the stage, one place and one time, and seeing what you can make happen. Turner is more like… slow-burn torture. With science class in the middle.

It’s definitely not the make-or-break haste hype of an audition, which he prefers. Or rather, it’s the longest audition of his life, and he’d rather have done one-hundred other ones in the meantime.

Yindra thinks she can remember when she had the same mindset, when she used to share that spark about it all. But it feels so buried six feet under now. Zay contemplates, claiming if they’re going to disrupt her paralysis, they just need to find the right way to do it. How to jolt life back into her confidence and creativity…

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

Meanwhile, Lucas is making his best effort to follow the money and see where it goes, but he’s not making much headway. Researching the acronym just brings him to a foundation page, for “The Conservative Enrichment and Advancement Charitable Foundation,” and everything on there seems pretty generic. Just another conservative charity.

Weirdly enough, though, this Brennan guy isn’t listed anywhere on the website. Given he’s writing from that letterhead, you’d think he’d be included somewhere, but he’s not at all involved in the organization as far as the public writing is concerned.

The charity also appears to be international, boasting a 24/7 call center, so Lucas figures he’ll give that a try. He dials the number on his phone, waiting impatiently while he gets put through.

When a worker picks up and cheerfully greets him, Lucas deftly dodges any sort of solicitation for donations to their righteous causes and claims he was hoping to speak with some of their management. Is there someone on their board they could connect him to?

Lucas: I know it’s a bit late.

Reception: Certainly, I can see what I can do. Could I ask who is calling?

Lucas: I’d rather keep that to myself, thanks.

Reception: … okay… [ trying to maintain the cheerful tone ] Could I ask what the nature of the call is?

Lucas: Do you have to?

Reception: It’s part of my protocol, yes, sir.

Lucas: Ah. Okay. Well, I’m calling about an inquiry.

Reception: Okay, great! May I ask for what purpose?

Lucas: … to inquire.

This is painful. You can almost visualize the receptionist gritting their teeth through the pasted-on smile to get through this conversation.

Reception: I’m sorry, I’d be happy to put you through to management, but I really do need a reason for referral --

Lucas: Okay. Okay, fine. I… I’m interested in starting a charitable partnership.

Reception: Oh, that’s lovely! May I ask what for?

No, you fucking may not. That’s clearly what Lucas would like to say, but he keeps it together, searching his brain for whatever shred of creativity he has.

Lucas: It’s quite personal, but… I’m hoping to create a charity for… rehabilitation. Of the youths.

Reception: That’s such a great cause. We love objectives that help the community.

Lucas: Yes. I agree.

Reception: Can I ask what inspired you to this endeavor?

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Lucas presses his palm to his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Lucas: Well, see, it all started with a carjacking.

Reception: Oh my. A carjacking?

Lucas: Yes. I knew this jackass -- I mean, troubled youth -- who attended my church. Bright kid, but bit of a schlub, and an even bigger rabble-rouser. Well, one night, he got his best friend to go out with him and carjack rich automobiles from the upper East Side to take out for a joy ride.

Reception: Oh no!

Lucas: Oh, yes. As you can imagine, it didn’t end well. Arrests, probation, the whole nine yards. And once he was released and served his community service, we had to find a way to ensure he didn’t end up falling down the same path. And you know what the solution ended up being?

Reception, riveted: What?

Lucas: Music. Wouldn’t you know it? [ leaning into it ] And more specifically -- hymns. The choral hymns we sang at church really did something for him. Totally restored his spirit. We got him in our church choir, and by God’s grace, it saved his life. That’s the power of music, isn’t it just -- and the power of the Lord.

What a bunch of bullshit, but you can’t say Lucas isn’t theatrical. He sells it well enough, the receptionist claiming she’ll put him through to their chief financial officer. He’s the one who hears all the pitches for partnership. If he’s not available, he should feel free to leave a message.

After a brief hold, it does go to voicemail, so he leaves a message.

Lucas: Hi. I’m inquiring about some of the leadership in your organization. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with Ronald Brennan, but I can’t seem to find his contact information anywhere on your site. I was… informed he worked with your charity, but I’m having trouble confirming that. Would you give me a call back? Thanks.

Worth a shot. If they tell him nothing, or confirm this Brennan person has nothing to do with the acronym, then that’s at least a dead-end concluded. Lucas tosses his phone down, collapsing back onto his bed with a sigh.

Then, he chuckles to himself.

Lucas: The power of music. Give me a fucking break.

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

Speak for yourself, Lucas. Right now, the “power of music” is all Maya has going for her. She’s energized in the studio, abuzz with the prospect of her dreams finally manifesting into reality… but then she gets back to the apartment, and all that energy drains away.

Basically, when she’s not at Global Beat, Maya is bored out of her mind.

It’s an unusual feeling for her. She’s never really struggled with loneliness before, if she can even call it that, and it doesn’t sit well with her. She doesn’t know if it’s just because Farkle has better people -- or rather, person singular -- to hang out with, or how things concluded with Isa…

Or maybe even just being home for a spell. Being back with the old crew, even if she didn’t think she’d missed them that much during the fall. She delicately adjusts the photo she has stuck up on her vanity mirror, the picture Joe took of them all at Chubbies before the holiday gathering (only notably, Maya has made a point of folding back the edge where Dylan and Asher were so they’re not visible).

Whatever this feeling is, she doesn’t like it. It makes her restless, and that makes her want to create to be distracted from it. But she only has so much time in the studio, and so much time with the producers that she’s lucky to have. She scrolls through her message thread with them, where we can see she already asked if they could book her more time with them. The answer was an apologetic no -- they have other clients to balance, though they love her enthusiasm.

But a no is still a no. Maya closes their thread, scrolling aimlessly through her messages…

And pausing on Josh. She could text Josh. Yes, he insulted her by insinuating she’d dupe him out of credit, and he’s annoying, and pretentious, and sometimes she can’t stand him. But he’s a good producer. He gets music. When they work together on music, it feels like he gets her. Couldn’t she bury the hatchet first, if it means getting another killer song out of it? If it means not spending another evening bored in her apartment alone?

Apparently, her pride says no, and unapologetically. She shakes her head at herself and locks her phone without texting anyone.

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

Lucas comes back to his room ready for bed, only to find a missed call on his phone. He quickly pulls up the app and is pleased to discover the mystery caller left a voicemail. He lifts it to his ear, ready for some closure on this whole thing.

That’s not what he gets. There’s silence for a few moments, then a crackle, before a warped, chilling voice speaks. It’s obviously been purposefully obscured, but that doesn’t make it any less menacing.

Voicemail: Curiosity killed the cat. Do not call again. You don’t have nine lives.

With that, the line goes dead. Lucas remembers to breathe, looking at the voicemail again.

No caller ID. No way to trace it. A clear threat, and there’s no clue to know where it came from.

Lucas doesn’t take it as a warning, though, despite the ice creeping down his spine. There’s natural fear, yes, but fear can be good. Fear is a message.

And to Lucas, all he heard is that there’s something worth looking for.

Break 1.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Lucas is still puzzling over it the next morning, rereading the letter. Searching for some hidden meaning or coded message he’s just not seeing, something that would warrant such a strong response to an unsolicited call… given how hard he’s thinking, his glare is even more scrutinizing than usual.

Thankfully, Charlie must be getting used to it, because it doesn’t deter him when he reenters the apartment and greets him cheerfully. Lucas gives him a nod. He’s just coming back from a morning jog, but before he hits the showers, he doubles back.

Charlie: I figured out that name, by the way. Brennan. Why it sounded so familiar.

Lucas, eager: Yeah?

Charlie: Yeah, so it turns out he actually goes to our church. Or did -- he’s out of the city on business so often, he’s not exactly a consistent congregant. But he’s a pretty well-known name in conservative circles, especially locally. They sometimes call him the king of fundraising; he’s a big shot hedge fund manager who made like, billions off the stock market during the dot com bubble.

Lucas: Huh…

Charlie: He did some fundraiser organizing for our church back in the day. My mom basically lives and breathes his trading tips. We used to go to his brownstone over in Midtown for these fancy dinners, and I hated it because I had to wear a tie somewhere other than church. But my mom was all about making a good impression. Suffice to say, wasn’t exactly a hip and happening scene at eight years old. [ a beat ] Or now, in all likelihood.

Interesting tidbits nonetheless. But it still doesn’t clear much up -- if this wealthy, conservative money-mover has ties to conservative board members, that’s far from breaking news. What doesn’t really make sense is…

Lucas: Why be so generic here? I don’t get why he wouldn’t just say outright what business they’ve got going on. Like, if you’ve got nothing to hide, then why act like you do?

Charlie thinks on it, then shrugs. Beats him.

Charlie: I know I’m going to sound like the biggest hypocrite ever, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. It’s just one letter -- who knows what other context you’re missing.

Lucas: Maybe.

Charlie: Also, people are weird about stuff like that. Paper trails. At least in those circles. I mean, when I think about how well-trained I was to stay vague and impartial and indistinct to avoid all possible scrutiny, it doesn’t seem so out of the ordinary.

Yes, but to that point, Charlie felt like he had something -- or many things -- to hide… Lucas is clearly thinking that, but he doesn’t comment further. He simply claims he’ll just have to look deeper, and frees Charlie to go shower.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” as performed by Vitamin String Quartet || Performed by Nigel Chey

The orchestral melody of the next track floats in while he turns his thoughtful stare back to the letter, turning it over in his fingers…

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

While the first fifteen or so seconds pre-lap with Lucas, and sound like the proper full quartet one would expect to hear, once we hit the first verse the music takes on a diegetic quality as it transitions to Nigel practicing on his violin. The other three parts of the quartet fall away, so it’s just Nigel running through his line on his own.

And it suffers for that. If you didn’t hear the opening, you may not even be able to recognize off the bat what the song is anymore when it’s just him alone. Nigel is still a gifted player, albeit a bit rusty, but the song sounds hollow without company.

The empty solo is mercifully brief. Despite his concentrated effort and slight visible frustration, Nigel is easily pulled out of his focus when he hears conversation outside his door. He hesitates and the music stops, allowing him to listen to the eager chatter of his grandmother with another voice in the living room.

A familiar voice. One he wasn’t expecting. Nigel puts his violin down on the bed.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - DAY

Nigel cautiously makes his way down the hall from his room into the living area, rounding the corner just as warm, bubbly laughter fills the room.

Riley. Amicably chatting with Reyna, standing by her armchair and nodding along as the elder regales her with complaints about the junk she spends all day watching on TV.

Reyna: You should see some of the things they’re calling entertainment these days. You’ve seen it all before. And lazy! Lazy, lazy writing. The telenovelas of my youth had more thought in them than this. I’m an old woman, I don’t have many options for how to spend my days. The least they could do would be to ease my burden and make something worth watching.

Riley: Oh, no arguments here. I completely agree. You really have to dig into the archives these days to find the best stories.

You’re telling us, Riles… Nigel awkwardly makes himself known, clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows at them.

Nigel: You know, you could just… turn it off.

Reyna: [ waving him off ] Pah. What help are you? You don’t entertain me either.

Fair enough. Nigel turns his gaze to Riley, uncertain.

Nigel: Um… what are you doing here?

Riley: Oh, just thought I’d stop by. By surprise. Without warning. Get the best results sometimes that way. We’re well overdue for a catch-up, and I’m starving. Lunch?

Nigel: Uh --

Reyna: Nigel, don’t tell me you have been leaving this girl unread.

Nigel: … it’s “on read,” lola.

Reyna: [ saying both the same way ] Tomato, tomato. It means you are a ghost, which I know my Nigel wouldn’t do. You are not the Hamlet’s phantom father.

Nigel: Okay, could we -- [ to Riley, gesturing ] Can I talk to you in here? For a sec?

Riley can’t help but smile, graciously following him towards the kitchen. Reyna continues on, knowing damn well he’s trying to avoid her eavesdropping.

Reyna: I may be old, but my ears still work like it’s 1960! Don’t you disrespect Riley, you know she’s my favorite!

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Riley is downright tickled by the time they disappear into the kitchen, Nigel rubbing his eyes like he’s scratching out the sheepish humiliation.

Nigel: Sorry about that. I love my grandmother, but she can be… strong-willed.

Riley: Please, I love it. You can tell her she’s my favorite, too. Or, actually, I can just tell her when we leave. That’s what I want to be when I grow up.

Speaking of the plans Riley seems to think they have -- um, what? Nigel does his best not to be rude, but he really wasn’t expecting her to come around. He usually likes to have a bit of advanced notice for social gatherings…

Not to mention it gives him the chance to decline or cancel. Which is exactly what Riley knew he would do. She gives him a look, lowering her voice.

Riley: You’ve been avoiding me.

What? Him, avoidant? Please. Nigel scoffs, trying and failing to come off flippant.

Nigel: I wouldn’t… I wasn’t…

Riley: Nigel. One thing you need to remember about me is that Charlie Gardner is one of my best friends, my bestie cousin and roommate is Isa De La Cruz, and I’m dating Lucas James Friar. I’m basically a certified PhD in avoidant personalities.

Touché. Nigel gives her that, nodding and ceasing his protests.

Riley: And that expertise gives me enough skill to realize when someone isn’t showing up the way they should be. Not just with me, either. I feel like I haven’t seen you… anywhere, really, even since the semester started. I know Zay and Yindra have reported similar sentiments.

Nigel: Snitches.

Riley: They’re just looking out for you. [ a beat ] And a bit petty. But all’s well that ends well. The point is, ever since New Year’s you’ve been out of orbit, and I don’t like that. That’s not something I’m comfortable just letting be.

Nigel sighs. He doesn’t admit to her correct read, but he struggles to explain what’s going on. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with her, or the rest of them for that matter, but he just feels… it doesn’t feel right. After everything he did, and how everyone had to find out about it -- which just humiliated her even further -- it feels wrong benefiting from her friendship. She may have forgiven him, but that doesn’t mean he deserves it.

Riley: I don’t want you to feel that way. You made a mistake -- it happens. God, we’re pushing twenty, I’m pretty sure the next decade of our lives is supposed to be about making life-altering mistakes. That’s kind of what coming-of-age is all about.

Nigel: Cool. Really got me excited for the future.

Riley: What I’m saying is, I don’t hold that against you. You fucked up, you apologized, and you don’t intend to do it again. I believe that. I’m not punishing you into eternity, and I don’t think you should either.

So they’re going to fix this. They’re going to talk it out, and work this out, or else die trying. Nigel still seems reluctant, but it is nice to be back in Riley’s sunshine already. Going along with her ideas is the least he could do.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

A similar, emotionally poignant conversation is wrapping up on the TV screen between a young Zachary and his female co-star, the melancholy ending to one of his early breakout coming-of-age hits (in the vein of The Breakfast Club).

As the credits start to roll, Zachary and Isa get up, the former noting that the two of them are going to step out for a bit to make another sight-seeing trip. Milo asks if they can come too, but Ruby intervenes, strategically reminding them it’s a school night, and they’ve got homework to do. Isa excuses themselves to go grab their jacket and get ready.

Milo: Isn’t Isa also in school? How come they get to go?

Ruby: When you’re in college, you can decide to take a life-changing gap semester too.

Milo: How long until that?

Ruby: Too many years to count.

Louis rolls his eyes, then gets up from the armchair to follow Zachary into the kitchen.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Isa makes their way back downstairs, stopping just outside the doorway to the kitchen when they hear their name spoken in conversation. They pause, backing up and eavesdropping instead.

Louis is talking to Zachary as he gets ready to go, questioning why he’s suddenly doing all these little outings with Isa. They certainly don’t do big outings like this on school nights or drop everything to hang out.

Zachary: I think you’re mature enough to understand why this is a unique situation.

Louis: Why? Because her mom is dead and you both abandoned her, so now you’ve got like, guilt?

Zachary immediately pushes back on that, warning Louis to watch his attitude. Isa stings slightly at the comment, but doesn’t react, swallowing it. Honestly, the shock of hearing someone point-blank bring up Valerie was more shocking than the actual dig itself.

Impressive how Louis can have a conversation about her with no qualms, but Isa and Zachary can’t seem to do the same.

Louis: It’s not fair. I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time since she got here.

Zachary: Isa uses they/them pronouns. I expect you to respect that.

Louis: Okay, sorry. No one told me. I haven’t seen you since they got here. And you were doing the Mainland shoot before that.

Zachary: You know I try my best to balance work and home. Again, this is just a unique circumstance --

Louis: So you can rearrange your schedule for Isa, but not me. Got it.

That is obviously not what Zachary meant, but Louis is wise enough to know he’s crossing a line. He excuses himself before Zachary can tell him to go to his room, leaving the conflict unresolved. Zachary sighs, rubbing his temple.

After a suitable amount of time, Isa descends the rest of the steps and enters the kitchen. Zachary pulls himself together impressively quick -- actor skills -- and offers a smile.

Zachary: All set? Have you decided where you want to go?

Seems it’s Isa’s turn to pick their destination. They nod.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Lucas is back at his cube, quietly on the clock. He’s not focusing well on the scheduling logistics he’s supposed to be tweaking, Evelyn’s calendar open on his desktop.

He peers over the half wall of his cube, surveying the office. It looks the same as it always does -- executive assistants like him each at their cubes in front of the board member offices, typing away; CNN playing silently on the TV above the small alcove of couches where guests waiting for meetings sit; the decorative fountain installed in the wall opposite him continuing its slow trickle.

Yet something has him on edge. He can feel it, the tingle in his shoulder blades signaling that trouble is right around the corner even if he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. He’s grown quite adept at listening to those signals in his life, and they rarely steer him wrong.

His gaze falls on JEFFERSON DAVIS GRAHAM chatting down the hall with Dr. Langley, the two of them finishing up a discussion about the meeting they just attended.

Whatever Lucas is sensing, deep in his gut, he knows he needs to listen to it.

Yancy: Mister Friar.

Lucas nearly jumps out of his skin, snapping back to attention and lifting his gaze. While he was lost in his own head, Yancy materialized in front of his cube. He looks down his nose at him with distaste, and Lucas almost rises to stand, but he manages to stay put.

Yancy: Daydreaming on the clock? That doesn’t seem like a very productive use of your time. Given how generous Evelyn was to gift you this job, I don’t think you want to make her look bad by shirking it.

Lucas, evenly: Oh, on the contrary. I don’t really do the “dreams” thing, daytime or otherwise.

Yancy: Mm.

Lucas: I was actually thinking about how important this work is. How crucial it is that it be handled the right way. [ a beat ] Ways it could be improved.

Yancy is hardly interested in Lucas’s supposed wide-eyed optimism. That’s not why he stopped by his desk.

Lucas: That’s good. Or else this conversation would be wasting both of our times -- which wouldn’t be very productive, would it?

Enough of his cutesy cheek. Yancy cuts to the chase, informing Lucas that he only deemed to speak to him because his name unexpectedly came up in conversation. Very unpleasantly, he might add. Apparently, Lucas’s phone number came up when Yancy was discussing a complaint with one of his common business acquaintances. Apparently, Lucas has been making some cold calls.

Lucas does his best to square his expression -- which isn’t hard, given his experience -- but a glimmer of trepidation sneaks through.

Lucas: Oh. That so?

Yancy: Yes. Care to explain yourself?

Lucas: Not to you, particularly. Nor do I need to -- I don’t recall making any phone calls to numbers I don’t know in the last few days. Or any, period. Casual chatter isn’t my thing.

Yancy, flatly: That so?

Lucas: Yes.

Yancy: Then how do you explain a phone number registered under your name popping up on their call logs? And that the colleague who received your call described you as “brusque, persistent, and unflinchingly rude?”

Lucas: Hm. That doesn’t sound like me. Wrong number, maybe? I’d hope these very important colleagues of yours would be able to transcribe a ten-digit number properly, but everybody makes mistakes --

Yancy loses his patience, hitting his hand hard on the surface of Lucas’s cube. Under his desk, Lucas’s hand clenches defensively, but above, he doesn’t flinch.

Yancy: I’ve had about enough of your entitled, arrogant behavior polluting this building.

Lucas: [ with mild irony ] Entitled?

Yancy: [ ignoring him ] This is a place of work, where we’re doing serious business. Where we intend to make a difference; where we’re doing work that matters. Pointedly, it’s more than apparent you don’t fit in. And if Evelyn wants to humor you for whatever reason, perhaps to fulfill that dreamy, inclusive ideal she has, then that’s her prerogative. You can put on a decent shirt and a discount tie and play Office Ken to your hearts’ content. But don’t forget that you’re playing with real men who are trying to get real work done -- and who will not take kindly to you sticking your sniveling nose in where it doesn’t belong.

Okay, the gloves came off real fast there. Lucas hesitates, a few of those comments digging a little deeper than he’d like, and not quite prepared to fire back when he didn’t expect such open hostility in the office.

Lucas: Is that a threat, Mister Yancy, sir?

A heavy pause passes between them. Yancy’s not quick enough to deny the question, which is almost as effective as confirmation. It’s without a doubt an exchange too weighted and sharp for your average water cooler chatter.

It’s a relief when Evelyn manages to disrupt it. She pops her head out from her office at the end of the hall, catching sight of Yancy and pulling him into a conversation about some logistics they were discussing at their last meeting. Yancy seems a bit dazed as he is yanked back into the real world, but he follows Evelyn’s beckoning, heading over to meet her in her doorway.

Lucas watches him go, only releasing his breath once they’ve disappeared into her office. He unclenches his fist, shaking off the tension and trying to get back to work. The confrontation did assure him of one thing, though.

He is onto something. And they know it.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - LOCKER ROOM - DAY

Vanessa is changing into fresh dance clothes before class, just so happening in an ill stroke of luck to be there when Gia arrives. She gives Vanessa a sugary smile, full of empty friendliness.

Vanessa tries to finish getting ready faster, but she isn’t swift enough, Gia engaging her in conversation. She casually asks how her preparations for her audition are going. Even though the final transfer test is a month away, it is all anyone is thinking about since the new semester started.

Vanessa: It’s going. Just like you, I’m sure.

Gia: Oh, is it ever. I am putting everything I’ve got into this. Of course, I choreographed the routine weeks ago, so we’re now in the polish stage. Got to have it in killer shape by the time audition day rolls around, after all. But I’m sure you’re on the same page.

Um, considering she hasn’t even decided what song she wants to use yet as a track, nor what steps she wants to be sure to include, Vanessa is decidedly not on that page. But she isn’t going to let Gia know that -- those cracks are exactly what the competition is mining for, and Gia is the most notorious of the bunch -- so she deflects instead. She wrinkles her nose.

Vanessa: I bet. I more than imagine you’ve got plenty of time to polish in between all that time you spend with your boyfriend. In front of class. Blocking the doorway.

Gia, unfazed: Oh, please. No, I ended that little tryst.

Oh. Vanessa wasn’t prepared for that. Her guard slips, eyebrows shooting up.

Vanessa: Seriously?

Gia: Yeah. Old news. I dumped him over winter break.

Vanessa: And yet it feels just like yesterday that you were sticking your tongue down his throat in plain view for all the world to see.

Gia: No, no, no time for that. I mean, it was fun while it lasted, and he was a great kisser, but we’re in X games mode now, girl. He was way too distracting, and I’m not letting anything get in the way of this transfer. Bye bye, baby. You know what I mean?

Gia delivers the sentiment so easily, like they’re just two gal pals chatting it up in the locker room, but the slight edge to her smirk makes it clear she knows exactly what she’s doing. Smile still intact, Gia shuts her locker and flips her ponytail off her shoulder.

Gia: See you in there.

Vanessa can see it clear, too -- she knows that Gia is probably just fucking with her. Saying all this because she knows she’s with Zay. They’re both her biggest competition. Things are good right now, and what better way to throw off your rivals than stir up a little trouble in paradise? Predictable. Oldest trick in the book. She can see the playbook from miles away.

And yet… Vanessa can’t help but wonder if there’s some truth in her twisted games.

EXT. L.A. LUNCH SPOT - DAY

Back in the beautiful L.A. sunshine, even in winter, Jade is having that lunch with her colleagues. All of them are friendly and chatty, avidly engaging her in conversation about the job, the company, and the city. Well, chatty except for Waverly, who by definition is more of a silent type. But she’s still there sitting with them, which is a friendly signal enough.

After a bit, Claribel turns the tables on Jade. She props her hands on her chin, giving her her undivided attention.

Claribel: Tell me everything. Tell me about you. What brought you here; what brought you to design?

Carlos: Yes, yes, please tell all. And don’t leave out any dirty details, those are my favorite part.

It’s her turn to be the main character for once! Jade laughs awkwardly, clearly not sure how to even begin. No one has really taken much interest in her like this -- there’s always been more star-worthy peers, or more important tasks to tackle. Anya barely knew a thing about her, beyond the fact that she could sew like nobody’s business.

Jade: Um, I honestly have no idea where to start.

Carlos: Typical. But so fair. I hate it when people ask me to talk about myself too.

Claribel: You’re from New York, right? So you were always kind of around fashion.

Jade: I guess? I wasn’t super into couture or anything like that, though. You can probably tell, based on how I dress myself, that I’m not exactly fashionable.

Carlos: Girl, please. You look cute.

Waverly: You dress better than Carlos.

Carlos: Um. Rude.

Claribel: So you were more into costumes? Broadway, that sorta deal?

Jade supposes yeah, that’s probably the closest approximation. She talks about how she was never exactly immersed in the creative world -- her parents are very straight-forward, analytical thinkers, and her brothers are way more into sports and science than the arts. But she loved looking at how people would design stars on TV shows -- she lived for closet blogs for TV and movies even though she could never afford it -- and she started to get really curious about what went into those design choices. Then she got really into period dramas, and that attention to detail, and that led her to further Broadway exposure. By the time she was in fifth grade, she was doing her own sketches.

All of this led to her applying to Adams Academy for the Arts, once she got some practice under her belt through middle school. From there, the rest is history -- and Triple A really was a beacon for her.

Jade: I got hours upon hours of raw experience there. My stuff wasn’t that great freshman year, obviously, but I just got material. I had all the time in the world to practice, practice, practice, and with time it just… became everything. Now I can’t imagine how I would… like, think, if I couldn’t process with a needle in my hands.

Claribel loves the story; Carlos wants to hear more about the art school tea.

Carlos: I’m sure the drama must’ve been insane.

Jade: It was… we were a special group of people.

Claribel: It’s so great that you like costume design like that, though. That’s exactly what Luz was looking for -- no surprise, I’m sure, since your Enchanted Halloween outfits are what caught her eye.

Waverly: Sick attention to detail.

Carlos: OMG, I forgot about that part. You’re friends with Dylan Orlando?!

Jade: Yes. Somewhat by proxy -- his boyfriend is my best friend. So we’re like, best-in-laws. But we were techie crew together all four years at Adams.

Carlos: That’s so wild. Obsessed. I love his vlogs.

Claribel: I’m really into couture, and high-fashion, and Carlos is more into the street fashion scene. Waverly does a bit of everything, but she’s mainly into sustainability and how we can incorporate that piece. So Luz is doing an awesome job of trying to round out the team. [ with a smile ] I really think you’re going to be the perfect fit.

Jade returns the smile. Especially after her last job, she hopes she’s right.

EXT. VALERIE’S ESTATE - DAY

Valerie’s glamorous estate, now currently owned by the city, sits quiet and lonely atop her patch of the hills. It hasn’t changed much since we last saw it two years ago, though the yardwork has naturally fallen a bit into disarray.

Down the hill, Isa and Zachary gaze up at the structure, leaning against the hood of his car (they opted for the more subtle sedan this time around). Zachary seems slightly uncomfortable to be there, hands linked together in front of him.

Isa: Sorry if this is weird. I just… wanted to see what happened to it. After all this time.

Zachary: No worries. I get it.

Isa: Last time I was here, we were cleaning it out. So I wondered… kind of insane, how it looks exactly the same. I don’t know, I guess I thought it would feel different.

The only thing that does feel different is that it feels empty. Without question. Without stepping inside, Isa knows that. Zachary doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. Isa glances at him.

Isa: Did you see it? Before?

Zachary: Me? Oh… um, no. She got this place… it was after. Us. She had blown up by that point.

Isa: You never stopped by for a visit? Or for one of her infamous parties? [ a beat ] I know you weren’t like, close after everything, but if you were still writing letters --

Zachary: I never saw her house, no.

Are they done with this, then? They might get in trouble for loitering… Zachary starts to head back to the car. Isa pauses, clearly frustrated with how dead-end that conversation went. And they thought they were hard to get to open up…

Isa glances towards the house again, casting it a furtive glance. Almost like they’re looking at Val herself. You don’t make it easy, do you?

Then they sigh, heading to the passenger side door.

INT. NYCA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Zay is in a similarly disgruntled mood, sitting through yet another general education class. At this point, it could be history, or science, or math -- doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to be there. Even on a good day, he’d rather be doing anything else.

But today is even more grueling than usual. He’s impatient as ever this time around, tapping his pen impatiently on his laptop. His feet are tapping impatiently too, bouncing to an unheard beat. It has definite “What Time Is It” vibes, the restless waiting, even though summer is months away… he glances towards the clock, waiting for it to set him free…

Tick, tick, tick.

Boom. The professor dismisses class, and Zay is up out of his seat before anyone else. Free at last, as the bombastic opening beats kick up.

EXT. NYCA - CAMPUS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Footloose” as performed by Kenny Loggins || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. Yindra Amino & Vanessa Johnson)

Zay bursts out of the lecture hall as the guitar riff gets the song going, back to full energy. He slides down the banister of the steps and then launches into the first verse, dancing his way along the main thoroughfare of campus. He’s leading us proudly into our dance film moment, and as he damn well should!

I gotten this feeling that time’s just holding me down

As he makes it further into campus, he reunites with Yindra, who is clearly meeting him there for a reason. She is effortlessly roped into the groove as they build towards the chorus, letting Zay twirl her under his arm and then yanking him further along.

When they make it to the chorus, they meet up with the other Turner students -- the actual students, that is, not the transfers. This includes HENRIK VON FELDT, who greets Yindra playfully with a bow and a kiss of her hand, before he pulls her into dancing with him.

Vanessa also joins them here, and out here in the fresh air out of the pressure of the semester, the mood is much brighter. She’s able to dance loosely and with full vibrance with Zay, none of the usual barbed wire between them that there is in the studio. It’s playful, friendly, low stakes.

After they jam with the crew for the chorus, Zay and Yindra take off again, setting off on whatever their grand mission for the day is.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And we see them get ready as we step through the next verse, Zay serenading Yindra as they both seamlessly change some elements of their ensemble and glam up as they make their way downtown.

You’re playing so cool, obeying every rule Dig down into your heart

They arrive outside a local theater, where a sign outside notes that there’s open call auditions going on today. That’s what they’re after -- if Yindra needs to find her spark for this career again, there’s no better way than to just dry-run a bunch of auditions with zero stakes.

So that’s what they’ll do. As we build to the second chorus, Zay takes her hand and they jog up the steps to the theater together.

INT. AUDITIONS MONTAGE - DAY

Zay and Yindra zoom their way through multiple auditions (presumably throughout a couple days, as their outfits change here and there) as we zoom through the second chorus, all in time to the music. They do casting calls, serious theater roles, back-up dancers, talent shows. They skate through open call auditions for touring groups of Jagged Little Pill and Beetlejuice; they flub their way through a vocal sketch comedy audition and burst out laughing by the end of it.

Anything and everything is on the docket, even stuff they’re not qualified for, and somehow it’s damn freeing!

It’s clearly loosening Yindra up, just to get back out there again. And although the auditions aren’t serious, they seem to be making an impression at some, agents and directors nodding in approval or handing out their cards.

This continues through the instrumental bridge, until they finish up at their last audition for the Jagged Little Pill tour. Zay gives a thank-you bow to the team, then dashes back through the darkness of the wings --

EXT. THEATER - DAY

And emerges into the sunlight with a flourish, belting out the iconic line back into the final chorus as he leaps off the steps.

I’m turning it loose!

Then the besties are off again on their final victory lap, dancing their way through the streets of their city.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

This brings them through to Central Park, where they seem to be picking up dancers as they journey along. One of them almost happens to be Charlie, who they cross paths with as he and Lucas are walking in the opposite direction -- Zay takes his arm and spins him back in their direction, pulling him into the number.

Charlie seems more than happy to participate, immediately jumping into the choreography with Zay for a few seconds, until Lucas rolls his eyes and takes the hood of his jacket to yank him back into reality.

Yindra and Zay don’t wait up, continuing on until they meet up with the Turner crew and Vanessa again. All of them finish off the song together with energy and flavor, everyone breaking into laughter and exchanging high-fives as the rendition rounds off to a close.

That’s how you get your groove back, baby.

EXT. MIDTOWN STREETS - DAY

Too busy to get footloose and boogie themselves (to Charlie’s dismay), Lucas and Charlie find themselves in the wealthy neighborhoods of Midtown. They stand together on the sidewalk near a public park, under the guise of enjoying the surprisingly temperate February weather. No one pays them any mind, which is exactly how they want it.

Their gaze isn’t on the park, though, but across the street, on the elegant -- and surely wildly expensive -- brownstones that line the block. From a safe distance, they watch a portly but well-dressed gentleman emerge from a town car, giving a nod to his driver and then heading up the steps to his house. This is RONALD BRENNAN (60s), star hedge fund manager and local conservative playmaker.

Lucas: That him?

Charlie: Yeah. It’s crazy, he hasn’t changed at all in the last ten years.

Lucas: Yeah, well, it’s amazing what money can buy.

And there’s no question this man is full of it. The mystery remains why he’s in communication with the board, communicating directly with Yancy and Jefferson, and why it all needs to be so hush-hush.

Lucas: I checked the public campaign rolls like a hundred times. I didn’t see a Brennan on there. And his little money market group was only on there once and for chump change.

Charlie: That doesn’t surprise me. To be fair, most of the money he’s moving around probably isn’t even his. The community puts the money in his pocket, into whatever pots, and he handles the rest.

Lucas: It shouldn’t be strange for him to back Connelly then, though, right? I mean, it’s no guess that he’d prefer him to win over Jack. Why not be open about it?

Charlie: [ with a shrug ] He doesn’t have to be? Campaign finance laws are shaky. There’s no obligation for him to disclose his identity if he funnels it through the right channels, so why do it if you don’t have to, I guess.

Lucas: And you know what that is?

Charlie: Shady?

Lucas: I was gonna say stupid as fuck, but that works too.

Agreed on both fronts, lads. Even if it were just that simple, something about the situation doesn’t add up. And Yancy’s reaction from earlier only accents the point. There’s something deeper, potentially less savory, that is itching at Lucas’s instincts. He’s got to get in there and see what he can find out.

Charlie isn’t fazed by Lucas’s desire to investigate -- the shock of his tendency to bend the rules has worn off at this point -- but he remains skeptical. More power to him to try, but…

Charlie: I don’t think your usual sneak skills are going to do the trick in this case. This isn’t like Adams. It’s not your terrain, for one, but also Triple A has remarkably weak security. This is the private home of one of the wealthiest men in Midtown, and one with conservative paranoia. If his security system is anything like my mom’s --

Lucas: Didn’t you say Zay climbed onto your balcony to come visit you once? And haven’t you snuck down your own balcony like, multiple times?

Oh, so apparently Lucas does listen when he talks. Charlie blinks, dazed by the mere mention of his whimsical past with Zay (not that Lucas has any inkling of the romantic layers to the history). Flustered, Charlie waves him off.

Charlie: That’s not the -- we’re not talking about me.

Lucas: I’m just saying, if that’s the security system you’re talking about, then I’m not too concerned.

In any case, it’s moot anyway. Getting in is going to be a breeze.

Lucas: We don’t need to worry about all that. We won’t be breaking and entering.

Charlie: Oh, no? Then how do you plan on getting inside, exactly?

Lucas: Easy. [ with a light smile ] We’re going to walk right in the front door.

Charlie makes a face, bewildered, eyes still trained on the fortress of a brownstone that feels insurmountable. When he lets his gaze shift to Lucas, he finds he’s already looking at him, knowing smirk gracing his lips.

Ruh-roh. Charlie stares at him, eyes wide.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Yindra, Zay, and Vanessa have relocated to Zay’s, passing the afternoon by watching a film together. In fact, it’s one of Zachary’s films -- Groove Me, that dance movie that revitalized the genre and gave Charlie a gay crush on Isa’s dad. See, Ruby, it’s a cult classic!

The film isn’t really a focus of the moment, though, as they’ve all seen it a dozen times already. They’re mainly chatting through it, the vibes comfortable and easy. As if they’ve all been pals for years, and this is just another movie night. Even though Zay is seated between Yindra and Vanessa, he doesn’t really act differently towards either of them.

Especially right now, as they’re both picking on him for finishing the last of the popcorn.

Yindra: The movie isn’t even half over. What kind of host are you, Zay, leaving your guests here to starve?

Zay: My guests? Don’t flatter yourselves.

Vanessa: Oh wow. How rude.

Yindra: That’s what I’m saying. How are we supposed to enjoy this cinema without cinematic snacks? When you’ve inhaled all of them so carelessly?

Zay: You’re barely even watching the movie!

Yindra: Vanessa agrees with me. Don’t you, Vanessa?

Zay gives Vanessa a side-eye. Don’t do it… Vanessa makes a show of contemplating it for five seconds, then she leans across him and shakes Yindra’s hand.

Vanessa: I agree. We’re comrades in arms over this. Zay, your hosting capabilities are criminal.

Zay: For fuck’s sake.

Yindra: Someone call in back-up. Get Riley on the phone, stat!

Zay: All right, all right, fine. I’ll go get more. Jesus. Y’all combined are worse than Maya.

Blah, blah. Yindra nudges at Zay’s back when he passes her with the bowl, to which he swats back at her. Vanessa holds back her laughter.

Once he’s gone, Yindra and Vanessa exchange smiles, an awkward quiet briefly passing between them. Didn’t consider how sending Zay off would leave them to fend for themselves… thankfully, Yindra isn’t one to shy away from breaking the ice.

Yindra: It’s way too fun messing with him like that. He’s so easy to rile up.

Vanessa: Yeah… yeah, I’ve noticed.

Yindra: I bet you have. He’s always been like that, though. Like he acts so cool and chill, like he’s so above the drama, but he is literally so huffy. One of the biggest drama queens ever. [ with a sigh ] Man, I love his melodramatic ass.

That much is clear. It’s part of what makes New York so hard to leave… something Yindra isn’t looking forward to even if she manages to rally herself back westward. Vanessa pauses, before finding the confidence to take her own stab at the ice.

Vanessa: I really admire it, you know. What you’re doing.

Yindra: Flopping? Gee, thanks. Given your competitive streak…

Vanessa: No, not that. And I’m sure you’re not flopping. Anyone who has an agent interested in chatting more can’t be considered a flop.

Yindra doesn’t seem so convinced, but she gestures for her to go on.

Vanessa: I meant being out there at all. Just forgoing the accepted route and leaping into it. I’ve dreamt about that sometimes, but… I genuinely don’t think I could do it.

Yindra: Bet that’s not true.

Vanessa: No, no, I mean it. I’m not being like, faux humble or whatever. Like… I think I’m talented, don’t get it twisted, but I don’t think I could bank on just that to get me through. I need that… stability, that stamp of approval from powers that be to prove I’m worth it. And part of that is from my parents, without a doubt, but… I think I need it, too. Just like, in my head. Even what you and Zay did this week, going on all those audition runs -- I know that’s smart, theoretically, but I don’t know that I could pull it off. I need that crutch, that nod of institutional support to prop me up. I can’t imagine diving into the scene with absolutely nothing.

Maybe that’s why Turner feels as important to her as it does. She knows she’s good enough to hack it, if she can just get through… and then, there’s her stamp of approval. That crutch, whatever it is, to help her get where she wants to be.

Interestingly enough, this is much more than she’s ever told anyone at Turner about it -- including Zay. Yindra absorbs it, processing that unexpected vulnerability.

Yindra: Well, I’ll tell you, I don’t think your way of doing it is all that bad. The dive right in might seem glamorous, but it’s been… I would be lying through my teeth if I claimed it’s been a fun time. Hence Zay having to basically grab me by the shoulders and shake me out of the paralysis.

Vanessa: He’s good at shaking things up, that’s for sure.

Yindra: Like do I think school would’ve been the right path for me? No, I still don’t. But that doesn’t mean my route has been candy and roses. One of the weirdest things about this whole thing, watching my former classmates all tackle it in different ways, is the frustrating fact that there really isn’t one sure-fire way. We all just gotta… throw stuff at the wall until we find what works.

And that won’t be the same for everyone. Vanessa nods.

Yindra: But it definitely doesn’t have one solution. Like, the way Maya just bombards her way into things, I could never fucking do that. She’s like, at the extreme end of where you think I am.

Vanessa: [ with a laugh ] Right. Sure.

Yindra: And Zay, like, I totally believe he has what it takes to hack Turner, but God does he fucking hate school. Like the amount of complaining I have had to hear about his academic bullshit this year already, it is for real killing him. He can’t stand it.

Vanessa: Yeah, studying with him has made that pretty clear.

Yindra: He really is so impatient. And so competitive, it’s unreal. Like I get that he wants this so badly and all that, but he seriously needs to take a chill pill. I honestly don’t know how you put up with him sometimes. You must have some relaxed gene he doesn’t, because it’s impressive you can balance a relationship and keep him from exploding with all his whack competitive energy.

It’s a nice sentiment, and Yindra means well, but something about the comment rubs Vanessa the wrong way. With second semester revving up and the true competition fast approaching, her defenses are fast to rise back up.

Vanessa: What, and I don’t?

Yindra: Sorry?

Vanessa: You think I don’t want it too? That I don’t have the energy?

Oop. Okay. Yindra raises her hands in surrender, quickly backing off. Not her fight, so she’s not swinging.

Yindra: Hey, not what I meant. My bad if it came off that way. I was trying to compliment you, not side-swipe.

Vanessa realizes that, even if in the moment her nerves got the better of her. She deflates a bit, making herself smaller in embarrassment.

Vanessa: [ after a beat ] Sorry. That was shitty. I didn’t mean to… I overreacted.

Yindra shrugs, letting it roll off them. She aims for light-hearted, lightly tapping Vanessa’s leg.

Yindra: Well, if you wanted to make your point that you care just as much, mission accomplished.

Ha ha. Vanessa smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Just as the chime of a doorbell rings --

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - DAY

And a front door swings open, Charlie standing awkwardly on the front stoop. He’s changed from his more casual attire from earlier, now sporting a nice cashmere sweater and corduroy slacks. It’s like he stepped right off the campus at Yale and walked back to Manhattan.

He spins from looking over his shoulder just in time, offering one of his classic, charming prodigal son smiles just as Brennan opens his arms to greet him jovially.

Brennan: Charlie Gardner. Long time, no see!

Brennan steps forward and Charlie hovers uncertainly, not sure whether he’s going to usher him inside or go for a hug or what -- how do old conservative men even interact these days? -- but he lands on the instinct of a bracing handshake just in time. Nailed it.

Charlie: Good to see you again, Mister Brennan.

Brennan: And I, you. Look at you! And please, call me Ronald. You’re a grown man now, no need for the formalities.

Brennan gestures for Charlie to come inside, welcoming him to his home. Charlie graciously follows him inside… but stops the front door just before it closes, leaving it open just a crack.

Moments later, it pushes open, Lucas peering in before slipping soundlessly in and shutting the door behind him.

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - GREAT ROOM - DAY

The interior of the lavish home is as opulent as you’d expect, paling in comparison to the likes of the Minki only because stuffy old men don’t know how to have fun. Brennan gives Charlie the brief lay of the land, pointing out some of his favorite pieces of artwork. As they go, Lucas trails them like a shadow, keeping out of Brennan’s line of sight and scanning the room for any clues as to where he might find some useful information.

Brennan turns to point out one of his paintings and nearly spots Lucas, but he ducks down behind one of the cream-colored couches just in time. Charlie holds his breath, voice coming out a tad shaky when he scrambles to distract him.

Charlie: Thank you for being willing to meet with me on such short notice. I know you’re quite busy.

It works as intended, Brennan turning back to face him and giving him a faux humble look. He pats his shoulder, assuring him it’s no trouble at all.

Brennan: I’m always happy to chat with the young folk who are eager to get engaged with our mission. Especially as fine a man as yourself. Given that your mother is such an enterprising community pillar, I should hardly be surprised.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, I was, um… hoping to learn more about what your company does. In the day-to-day. I’m looking to… get involved, particularly with filling out the remainder of my gap year.

As they continue to chat, Lucas carefully makes his way around to the other end of the room behind pieces of furniture, staying low as to not be seen. Charlie keeps an eye on him out of the corner of his eye, but does a decent enough job playing it cool.

Brennan: Oh, yes, your mother mentioned you had taken the year off. Got some excellent traveling in, I’m sure. Europe is so wonderful in the summer. Such a bastion of culture.

Charlie: Absolutely.

Brennan: And she tells me that you’ll be going to Yale after all that? You continue to impress, Charlie, truly a star amongst your cohort.

Charlie: That’s… it’s on the table.

More like Charlie hasn’t thought about Yale in the last eight months, but that’s beside the point. It all sounds great to Brennan, who thinks Charlie’s strong work ethic and high esteem will fit in wonderfully with his organization should he choose to volunteer with them. He gives him the brief gist of what they do -- lots of semi-political “activism” centered around conservative causes and boatloads of fundraising. When he mentions what his work pertains as the head of it all, he gestures offhandedly towards his office, just a few steps away and hidden behind a windowed door.

Brennan: And that’s where the magic happens, but I won’t bore you with all the details. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. Isn’t that everything?

Sounds like exactly what Lucas is looking for. He starts to make his way over there, but has to suddenly dive back behind the upright piano nearby when Brennan all the sudden turns around and heads in his direction. Charlie’s eyes widen and Lucas holds his breath, sure he’s been caught…

But Brennan passes right by him, heading instead for the bar table set up at the opposite wall. Lucas curses silently to himself and creeps back around the furniture, out of sight.

Brennan goes to pour himself a glass of sherry, offering one for Charlie as well. It takes Charlie a second to respond, too consumed with scanning the room for where Lucas might’ve disappeared to.

Charlie: That’s okay. I don’t… um, I’m underage. So.

Brennan: Please, you’re amongst friends. [ tossing him a wink over his shoulder ] I won’t tell a soul. Besides, you’re a strapping young man. Surely one glass of liquor won’t bowl you over.

After a summer in Europe, like hell it will, but Charlie isn’t even listening to him. He’s preoccupied by Lucas, who has taken advantage of Brennan being distracted by drinks to pop his head up over the back of the chaise and get his attention.

Neither of them speak, but they communicate in a sequence of quick, hasty exchanges that’s some strange combination of gesturing, crazed eye contact, and mouthing words. It’s nonsensical, and kind of hilarious to watch, but the gist of it is something like this.

Lucas: [ silently, nodding to the office ] I need to get in there.

Brennan: [ still making the drinks, oblivious ] You know, I have always loved Europe, but I have to say I haven’t been back there in quite some time.

Charlie: [ shaking his head frantically ] You’re gonna get caught.

Lucas: Not if you do your job right.

Brennan: [ still oblivious ] Some of their cultural shifts have just been… well, suffice to say their youth are really changing the landscape. It’s the sort of thing I worry about here, you know, the ways our demographics might be changing. The values we’re shedding.

Charlie: What am I supposed to do? Tap dance?

Lucas: Like that’s so beneath you. Just keep him distracted. Say something cool. Be interesting.

Charlie: Do you know who you’re talking to?!

Lucas ducks back down as Brennan turns back around, approaching Charlie again with a whiskey glass in both hands. He hands one to him, which Charlie takes with thin gratitude. Brennan raises his glass, then takes a sip -- Charlie raises his to his mouth, but doesn’t actually drink, too distracted by watching Lucas creep behind Brennan towards the office.

Brennan: It’s not just the Europeans, of course. We have plenty of our own troubles. And it’s, you know, don’t misunderstand me here. I have no problem with the gays and their lifestyle. That’s their prerogative, through and through. [ with a sigh ] I just would prefer if they could keep that to themselves, and not enforce it upon the rest of greater society. I think it’s important for those individual boundaries to remain in place.

Charlie is so focused on Lucas, who has almost made it to the office, that everything Brennan is confiding is basically going in one ear and out the other. And it’s not like it’s anything he’s never heard in the walls of his church before. But Lucas freezes when a familiar name gets invoked, Brennan swirling the sherry in his glass thoughtfully.

Brennan: That’s one of my main concerns with Jackson Hunter, and this whole board election. I know the man does decent work, and he really whipped that art school you attended into shape, at least academically. But so concerned with that kind of activism, and openly dating a former coworker… a male coworker, nonetheless…

Now he’s got Lucas’s attention. He grits his teeth. If Brennan says one more ill word about Jack…

Brennan: I just don’t know that someone of that mental state is best suited to such an important role. The board that guides the children of the district, their education, it needs strong role models… [ with a huff ] Dare I say, I think the last thing we need modeled in this city is another out and proud homosexual deciding what he thinks is right for everyone else --

That does it. Lucas takes a step forward, but Charlie loudly clears his throat, getting his attention and staring him down with his big green eyes.

Don’t do anything stupid.

Good call. Infuriating as Brennan’s comments are, they’ll have to wait. Lucas clenches his fist and gives Brennan the finger behind his back before slipping back towards the office door, disappearing inside.

Brennan stops enjoying the sound of his own voice long enough to finally pay attention to Charlie, catching him looking wide-eyed over his shoulder. He tilts his head, half-glancing behind him before turning back to his guest.

Brennan: Are you all right, Charlie?

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - STUDY - DAY

Lucas goes still, sensing that Brennan might be on alert. He listens for Charlie’s response, hoping it’ll give him good enough cover.

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - GREAT ROOM - DAY

That’s asking a lot from Charlie, but he’s trying his damn best. Lucas should know he isn’t cut out for this sort of thing! He snaps out of the moment and focuses on Brennan, watching him with mild concern. Come on, Gardner, time for a smooth save.

Charlie: Me? Oh. Yes. Yes, I was just… [ a long beat ] thinking.

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - STUDY - DAY

Thinking? Goddamn, he’s hopeless. Lucas grimaces, shaking his head in disbelief.

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - GREAT ROOM - DAY

Brennan seems equally bewildered with that answer. Charlie senses that’s not enough quickly, though, clearing his throat and scrambling to provide a more comprehensive explanation. In his haste, he goes with the first and most recent topic to come to mind.

Brennan: Thinking?

Charlie: About… the gays! And their… [ mildly dissociating ] lifestyle…

He’s certainly one gay who has no idea how he ended up with this lifestyle, that’s for sure.

INT. BRENNAN BROWNSTONE - STUDY - DAY

Lucas rolls his eyes. Hopeless. But it’ll do for now. While Charlie keeps Brennan distracted out in the hall, Lucas takes full opportunity to get a look around. He swiftly scans the room, sifts through papers on the desk, expertly taking stock of what might be important with careful efficiency.

He finds a jackpot soon enough. Once he crouches down in front of the filing cabinet and opens the bottom drawer, he discovers a trove of documents -- a paper trail of recent transactions Brennan has made in and out of his money management accounts. Leave it to the old people to still do their bookkeeping in hard copy.

The sheet confirms what they assumed, that Brennan has been putting a lot of money into the Connelly campaign. They take in donations from a bunch of different sources -- such as Eleanor Gardner, but as big as corporations as well -- and direct it towards his PACs. It’s basically a dark money funnel, conveniently anonymous, and fully explains how they’ve had the financial chops to run so many hit ads against Jack in the past couple weeks. Riley will sure be pleased to learn about that…

And it’s not all above board. Lucas finally finds the connection to that acronym, as one of the files is labeled accordingly and records transactions made into the funnel on behalf of that charitable foundation. Something that definitely isn’t allowed, considering charities aren’t supposed to donate to political causes. That’s a big part of their designation as a non-profit organization. It’s a wonder how much charitable work this foundation is actually doing, versus being a well-disguised puppet org for political fundraising.

But there’s more that doesn’t add up -- literally. Yes, a large sum of all this money is consistently flowing to Connelly, but there are huge amounts that don’t seem to be going at all towards his campaign. They still appear categorized under education-related matters, but they aren’t geared towards any election.

Maybe they’re more concerned with members already seated in power… Lucas takes out his phone and lays the paperwork on the floor, snapping a few photos so they have documentation and a record of the sums in question.

INT. PINHEAD THREADS - LUZ’S OFFICE - DAY

Now that she’s had a chance to get acclimated, Luz invites Jade into her office to chat about what’s next. Jade is only slightly wary, and mostly excited, occupying the chair opposite Luz’s desk far less hesitantly than she felt in Anya’s space.

Luz: First things first, though. How is it going? How are we feeling about everything?

When Jade smiles, it’s authentic.

Jade: Good. Really good. The living situation is a little… ah, just because I’m still getting all that figured out.

Luz: God, I bet. Moving is the worst no matter when you do it. If there’s anything I can do to help, please, let me know.

Jade: But otherwise, all good things so far. I really like everyone in the office.

Luz: I’m so glad to hear it. I don’t want to psych you out, and you shouldn’t take this wrong since you’re already on board, but I am extremely picky about who we bring onto the team. People in this business will tell you that all that matters is talent, but that’s a load of bull. You can be as talented as Beyoncé, but I still won’t want to work with you if you’re an asshole. You know? That’s why I’m so adamant about face-to-face interviews, virtual or otherwise. I need to get a read, a sense of the mood.

A far cry from Anya Kelly, who didn’t even interview Jade one-on-one. And clearly, based on this conversation, Jade has passed the vibe check for Luz, too.

Which means they can get into the good stuff -- the work. Luz smiles and picks up a manila folder from her desk, passing it across to Jade.

Luz: If you’re feeling ready, we can dive in. There’s a few small projects I want to start you off with, just to flex your muscles and see what type of stuff you like best. So it’s a bit of a grab bag. But there are real clients on the other end of the line here, so don’t feel like I’m giving you mindless tasks.

Jade: Oh. Wow. [ a beat ] Are you sure? I mean, I only just got here…

Luz: Jade, I hired you to do the work. You’re not an assistant. And based on your samples, you more than have what it takes. Besides, we’re a small workshop here -- we can’t afford to have any elves not pulling their weight.

Fair point. Jade isn’t going to say no, she just wanted to confirm they trusted her to jump in. The file contains three different assignments: one theatrical costume design, one red carpet fashion, and one a custom piece for a local high school.

Jade: Lots of variety here.

Luz: We definitely serve many different communities. Which is exactly how I want it -- no client is too big or too small. We do discount the pieces for schools, though, since most public schools are strapped for cash as it is.

The file also contains a small task list of additional finishing details needed on in-progress items, like order packaging, social media and website maintenance, and touch-up work on existing designs. Each of them get a list like this at the start of the week, and they touch base on what will be on next week’s list on Friday. That way, everyone is carrying the same balance of workload, and it’s a reminder that no task is more important than another.

Jade: So I’ll be seeing you packing orders and doing thread work?

Luz: You sure bet your ass you will.

Jade has plenty to dive into now, so she won’t hold her up any longer. However, Luz informs her that she’ll want to do a check-in with Jade at the end of her first full week to seriously talk about how it feels. She has weekly touch bases with all of her team, and she’ll get one on the books for them soon enough, but this one at the start is especially important.

Luz: And I want you to be totally honest with me. Okay? This employment thing, it should be a good fit for both of us -- you and the business. If you aren’t liking the vibe, if it isn’t working out, you have every right to back off no harm, no foul. I just want that to be clear.

It’s a refreshing amount of authenticity. Jade nods, promising her she’ll do her best. With that, she’s dismissed.

Luz: Oh, and Jade? Get this -- packing orders is actually one of my favorite tasks. Ha!

Keeping it real -- no high and lofty managers here. Jade smiles, still grinning as she heads back to her work station.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - SHAKESPEARE GARDEN - DAY

The right fit seems to be on the mind a lot these days. It’s what Riley and Nigel are contemplating as he endures his Riley-vention, the two of them sharing a picnic lunch in the familiar embrace of the Shakespeare Garden. One of Nigel’s favorite places, something that feels like him, so a good anchor point to have the tough conversations.

It’s a bit cold to be out, given it’s mid-February, but Riley will brave the chill for the authenticity. It’s the principle of the thing.

Riley: Thought being spiritually with the Bard might help you feel spiritually with yourself, too.

Nigel manages a smile, taking a bite of his salad. Once they’ve had the chance to eat a bit, Riley bites the bullet, digging back into the malaise. Somehow, they’ve ended up at this place, feeling a world apart from who they were before. Maybe not knowing where they’re supposed to go next. How does he think that happened?

Nigel: I don’t know. To be honest, most of last semester feels like a blur.

Riley: [ with a wise nod ] That’s the depression. It’ll do that to you. I can’t remember any of my freshman year of high school. Well, except the monumentally shitty things. Funny how those have a way of sticking around, huh?

Nigel winces slightly, averting his gaze to the ground. He doesn’t seem all that comfortable with the word “depression,” or that it could possibly be applied to him. That, and the reminder that Riley has been in a place like this before.

Nigel: And I was doing the same stuff that made you feel that way. I’m seriously sorry.

Riley: Oh, Nigel. Please, don’t. You were nowhere near as bad as the stuff people were saying and doing to me then. It’s a totally different situation. Not to mention they didn’t even like me; they weren’t my friends. They didn’t even know me, really.

Nigel: Doesn’t that make it worse, though? That I was --

Riley: Are. You are my friend.

Nigel: Okay. That I’m your friend, and I still said that stuff? I still threw you under the bus to make myself feel better. Not that it even worked, but…

Riley, diplomatically: I’m not one to say that loved ones get unlimited free passes. You shouldn’t treat the people you love like shit -- I think you already know that. But friendship is weird. People are imperfect. It’s impossible to expect that the people you love aren’t going to make a mistake and hurt you sometimes. I mean, haven’t you had your friends do the same?

Maybe not in the same context, but sure. He and Jade said some not great things to each other and blew each other off last semester, and he still loves her. He and Yindra have fought over stupid stuff; he dealt with Zay’s nightmare boyfriend phase freshman year and his diva phase senior year.

Nigel: I guess. Yeah, you’re right.

Riley: Again, I’m not condoning what you did. And if you do it again, beware, you might catch these hands. [ off his chuckle ] But I don’t think that defines who you are. I’m not acting like I’m a brilliant judge of character, but I feel like a lot of times, if you love someone then you know their soul. You know all the good there is underneath the shield, and whether it’s worth holding on.

In her opinion, Nigel clears that bar. There’s nothing else to say about it. Nigel still seems uncertain, mainly because he’s impressed she can see his soul or whatever when he doesn’t think he has any clue what his looks like these days.

Riley: Have you always felt that way? Like you didn’t know?

Nigel: No, I don’t think so. Not that I feel like I remember now, of course, but it didn’t always feel this… I don’t know. Hazy.

Riley: When do you think that happened? When it got all murky?

The answer is obvious, honestly. College. NYU. Nigel didn’t have sky-high self-esteem before, but he felt content with things. He felt okay in his own skin. Riley agrees she could sense that -- she always thought he was effortlessly chill in high school. A little geeky, sure, and quirky about acting, but all the best people are that way.

Nigel: Now it’s like, I second-guess every single thing I do. Even the things that I love, that used to make me so excited, I feel like I need to pull back on it. Because everyone is judging. Who? No idea. Everyone. Like, I totally fucked up my playwriting class. That should’ve been fun -- that should’ve been my class that semester, you know? But I just completely blew it, getting all caught up in my own head.

Riley: And with the wrong people. That didn’t help.

Nigel: Yeah. I guess that’s part of it. I think I tricked myself into thinking that walking into Tisch would be like walking into Shakespeare camp, being surrounded by all these people who were exactly like me. Who were as geeky about it all as I am. Almost like Adams. Say what you want about our class -- and we were nuts, no cap -- but everyone got it. We all had that same thing, and that made the eccentricities feel okay.

Like Dylan said, Adams was special. It was a safe place. Nigel thought Tisch would be an extension of that, this second round of quirky personalities coming together to create art, but it hasn’t been at all like he expected.

Nigel: I jumped at the chance to go here because it felt like the right move for someone like me. Like, the obvious next move. But… I mean, I feel more like myself talking to strangers in a group chat online than I do in any of my classes. That’s not how it’s supposed to be, right?

Riley: Well, you make community anywhere, but I get what you’re saying.

And truth is, Riley gets it. Those feelings. Nigel seems surprised to hear it, but Riley beats him to the punch.

Riley: I know what you’re going to say. Because everyone keeps saying it to me. That I’m doing so well at Tisch, that I seem like I’m having the time of my life, etc.

Nigel: Well… yeah.

Riley: And I’m not saying I’m not having a good time. I’m really happy I’ve made some new friends, and of course, the classes are fun.

Nigel: You have the lead in a musical. As a freshman.

Riley: And I get that that’s really amazing, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for all of that. But that doesn’t mean it’s all figured out for me, that I feel like I’ve got it in the bag. I don’t. I still have those doubts too, about where I’m supposed to be. If this is the right fit. [ a beat ] Like, I haven’t talked about this much with anyone, but I’ve thought about things being different, too.

Nigel listens attentively, assuring Riley she doesn’t have to say anything she doesn’t want to just to make him feel better. She shakes her head with a laugh, promising that she’s okay.

Riley: It’s good for me to talk through it too. Walk the walk, so to speak. But it’s like… I literally know what you mean about going for Tisch because it seemed like the right thing. I was excited about Barnard too, had kind of settled on it, but then Tisch came through and it felt like this huge eruption. All those wonderful, quirky artistic people in our circle were telling me it was the opportunity of a lifetime, that of course I was meant for this, so how could I not take it? When everyone seemed so sure of my success, that they all believed I could do it?

It’s not that she regrets it; she doesn’t. And she has been luckier than most in terms of strong starts. But a strong start doesn’t mean the right start. She isn’t totally convinced it’s exactly where she’s meant to be. Like, she feels equally -- if not more -- energized working on Jack’s campaign as she does onstage rehearsing for Ghost.

Riley: And you know, it’s not like I haven’t thought about… it’s kind of silly, like just daydreaming, but I’ve thought that maybe when Lucas goes to Davis -- which he will -- that I could go with him.

Nigel: Really? All the way across the country?

Riley: Why not? It would be an adventure, and there’s just as many opportunities there as there are here for different types of engagement. I’ve proven to myself at NYU that I can make friends. I’d still be connected to all the people I care about, naturally, and I can be creative anywhere. I’m not committing to it, or even seriously considering it at this point, but it’s crossed my mind.

The point is, she’s not limiting herself to the path she struck out on at eighteen. They can change their own minds, and make turns in a new direction whenever they want. If Tisch isn’t fitting the way Nigel thinks it should, he doesn’t have to constrain himself to that box. He can dream a little bigger, search for whatever it is that gives him that spark back and makes him feel full of possibility.

And maybe, in searching his soul for those answers, he’ll find himself again too.

Nigel: I didn’t know you were thinking about any of that. You are seriously good at playing like you’ve got it all figured out.

Riley: Well, I am an actress. Didn’t you know?

Nigel: Thanks for sharing with me. Being vulnerable and stuff.

Riley: Any time. You may not believe it, but I know that the Nigel we know and love is still in there somewhere. Maybe it’ll take a little time to find him, or maybe you haven’t even truly met him yet. But he’s there. We just have to do a little digging to pull him back out of the blur.

This sentiment, as are most things in AMBITION, would be better expressed through song. Thankfully, Riley has just the tune in mind.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jump To The Rhythm” as performed by Jordan Pruitt || Performed by Riley Matthews

Oh yes, we are in our coming-of-age tween pop bag here, and Riley is ready to deliver. She launches into this classic from the 2000s as she gets to her feet, wasting no time to pull Nigel up with her and guide him along through the garden. Like most coming-of-age anthems, the sentiments aren’t vague, but there’s something undeniably charming about that.

But then you showed me a picture of me being myself

And that’s what Riley does -- she approaches this performance unabashedly as herself. She dances around the sidewalks, a little klutzy but uninhibited, and throws smiles at complete strangers. She playfully nudges Nigel into dancing with her as they walk along, and he’s hesitant at first (also authentic for him), but the magic of AMBITION music and Riley’s bubbly enthusiasm are good salves for any reservations.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

By the second verse, they’ve made it to one of the fountains, Riley hopping onto the edge of it and walking along while she sings. Nigel keeps up with her on the ground, ready to reach out and catch her if she slips and falls.

Life isn’t all so simple though, tough choices to make Trying to keep everyone happy can be a mistake

And slip she does -- though whether on accident or intentionally, for the flair, is impossible to say. She lands in Nigel’s arms and they do a quick spin before she lands back on her feet, giving him a beam for catching her right on cue. She takes his hands and leads him along.

The time has come to be true to yourself Stop chasing dreams made for somebody else!

It’s a lesson maybe both of them need to internalize. Like most tough pills to swallow, it goes down easier with a catchy tune.

They groove their way through the next chorus, crossing paths with some schoolchildren playing double-dutch. They take turns jumping through the ropes to the beat, then continue their way along, the kids following them and joining in on the performance.

When they make it to the bridge, they run into a crew of street performers, engaging in a little back-and-forth dance-off with them. Nigel has one team, Riley the other, and they pass the moves back and forth to the music.

He’s got it! She’s got it! Everybody’s got it!

Got it, they do! We carry this high energy right through to the end, where the little crowd they’ve accumulated launches into choreography on the final chorus. By the last repeat, everyone is clapping and singing along.

And some of that spark has returned to Nigel’s eyes. He’s certainly loosened up, at least. He smiles when Riley pulls him close into a hug, giving him a shake for good measure.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD SIGN HIKE - DAY

Zachary emerges at the top of the hill first, returning us to the same view that concluded the Season 2 finale. Isa manages to follow a few moments later, more out of breath than their Hollywood-trained fit father. The two of them take in the scenery for a long moment, Zachary placing his hands on his hips and absorbing it for the first time.

Zachary: This is pretty spectacular.

Isa: You’ve never seen it before?

Zachary: I’ve done a lot of hikes around these hills, but I admit, never this one. Think I usually avoid it, just… you know, staying lowkey. But it’s nice. I’m glad you suggested it. [ as they sit down on a rock ] Though I’ll be honest, I was surprised. You don’t strike me as a hiker.

Isa: Oh, I’m not. Most definitely not. [ catching their breath ] My friends and I did this hike when we were together a couple summers ago. After Valerie’s funeral. So it was something that came to mind.

Ah, right… Zachary nods, but inherently clams up at her mention. Isa side-eyes him, growing accustomed to his closed doors when she comes up but only getting more frustrated with it.

Isa: But it was Valerie who brought me here first, actually. When I was… I don’t know, maybe eleven? One of the few times she thought she’d actually try to be a mom that didn’t go well. She thought it would be all healthy-cool-mom to take me walking like this, but I hated it. Again, not big on the outdoors. Or walking. Or sweating. And yeah, we got swarmed by paparazzi by the end of it. Not sure whether she planned for that or not.

Zachary: We don’t have to talk about this.

He’s saying so like it’s a courtesy to them, like he’s letting them off the hook, but that’s not what Isa wants. This time, high up in the hills, they hold their ground.

Isa: Well, I want to. I’ve been trying to talk about her.

Zachary: I’m just saying, we don’t need to. We’re… you and I are developing our own thing. We don’t have to dwell on the past.

Isa: So your son can talk about how my mom is dead, but I can’t. That makes sense.

Zachary stares at them, wincing slightly.

Zachary: How did you hear that? Did Louis talk to you --

Isa: No. I overheard you talking on accident.

Zachary: It’s not acceptable, the things he said. It was rude. We’ve both talked to him about it. He won’t do it again.

Isa: I don’t care. I mean, it’s whatever -- people have said way worse than that about me, so he should step up his game if wants to compete. But I think you’re wrong. I think we do need to talk about this. We need to be able to talk about her.

Zachary gets to his feet, starting to pace uncomfortably. Isa rises as well, but stays firmly rooted where they are. Not budging.

Isa: You’re right, we’re forming our own dynamic. And that’s how I want it. But Valerie is part of that. There’s no way for her not to be. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her, for a number of reasons.

Zachary: I know. I understand that.

Isa: We can’t just pretend like she didn’t exist. That she doesn’t have a role here. Believe me, I did that for years, and it never made shit any better. And if we do that, just pretend, then what dynamic are we even building?

All solid points. Ones that Zachary doesn’t dismiss, but he isn’t equipped to hear them either. Unlike Isa, he hasn’t spent years and years grappling with the Valerie of it all and revisiting all those complicated feelings. Quite the contrary, he’s spent a lot of time purposefully leaving that part of his history behind.

Zachary: I hear that. But I’m not ready to -- I’m not ready to talk about this topic.

Isa: [ with slight incredulity ] … I mean, I am this topic!

If they can’t even discuss this, how are they ever going to be able to cultivate an actually healthy, comfortable family relationship? One with any substance, at least?

Isa: And you know what, I’ve never been ready for this either. I’ve never been allowed to be ready; I didn’t get that option as the kid. I wasn’t ready for Val to leave, any time she did, and I definitely wasn’t ready for it to happen forever. But tough luck, she did, and now we’ve just got each other. So, what?

How are they going to handle that? Zachary clearly gets where Isa is coming from; there’s a part of him that wants to open that door and confront the complicated and grief-stricken history together.

But he’s not there. Not so suddenly, not right now. He clears his throat and claims they should start heading back, if they want to avoid peak hiking hours. And it is a school night -- gotta make sure the boys are ready for the next day and all that. He leaves Isa without an answer, standing on the hilltop and scoffing to themselves.

Why are they even here? And like always, why can’t they ever seem to social right?

Let alone when it matters the most?

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya is alone on the couch, doing her best to be productive and work on some songwriting with all her blessed free time. But nothing is happening; the words aren’t wording. She growls to herself, scratching out a huge chunk of text -- only the word “slay” is still visible once she’s done with it.

Perhaps, for some reason, writing songs all about how she’s on top of the world aren’t hitting quite right.

She perks up when she hears keys in the lock and the apartment door opens, but only for a moment. Because even though Farkle finally walks through the door and greets her brightly, Jordan follows him inside immediately after, sucking away any enthusiasm Maya may have had. She hides her disappointment well, though, returning a practiced smile as Jordan greets her with a nod.

He heads for Farkle’s room, and Farkle tells him he’ll be in in a second before hanging back with Maya. While he’s got her, he wanted to let her know ahead of time that Isa is probably going to come over at some point this week to see their place.

Farkle: Is that cool? I know things are still kinda weird with you, so I don’t wanna overstep. It’s your home too.

Maya: Oh. No, yeah, that’s… that’s fine. It’s whatever.

Farkle: Okay. If you’re sure.

Maya shrugs. Honestly, Isa is the least of her gripes right now. Farkle thanks her for being chill and assures her that he’ll try to give her plenty of notice, so that she can be somewhere else if she wants to just avoid the interaction.

Farkle: I think they’re going to be at opening night, too. For my show. But there’s absolutely no pressure, like, you don’t have to sit together or anything.

Maya: Gotcha. I’ll think about it.

Farkle beams. Jordan playfully calls for him from his room, which makes Maya want to gag, but she masks it long enough for Farkle to disappear first.

At this rate, Isa over Jordan any day. Maya turns back to her songwriting notebook, making another dramatic strike against the page for emphasis.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

The next morning, Josh is pacing the floor by his cube, trying to work up the courage to talk to Jordan and Melissa. He’s drafted out a plan for what to say on a sticky note, which he’s nervously fiddling with between his fingers.

“LolliPop” climbing charts Why no me?

Not the most eloquent thought process, but it hits the major points. The main issue has just been braving the conversation… he stretches his neck out to see past their half-closed office doors, able to see that Melissa is visible behind her desk.

ROWAN PHELPS returns from grabbing coffee, pausing for a moment to watch Josh balance like a baby giraffe learning to walk.

Phelps: What the hell are you doing?

Josh stumbles, straightening up and crumpling his sticky note in his fist. So much for that. He nonchalantly claims he was just getting his stretches in, which Phelps clearly does not buy, but they don’t bother to ask for more. The embarrassment is a great excuse to nudge him into action, anyway, as he heads towards Justin’s office to avoid having to explain himself further.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - MELISSA’S OFFICE - DAY

Melissa sees Josh approach Justin’s door and knock lightly, calling out to get his attention. He sheepishly approaches her doorway, where she helpfully informs him that Justin isn’t here. He’s at a studio in Burbank with another one of their clients.

Josh: Oh. Got it.

Melissa: What’s up? Anything I can help with?

He figures it’s probably best to have the conversation with both of them, so the instinct to brush it off surges strong. No, he should say, nothing to report. Just wanted to check in. See how things were going. Everything is fine.

Josh: I wanted to talk about “LolliPop.”

Oh. Well. Guess he’s doing this now, then. The request came out shaky, but he decides to stand by it, stepping into her office so he’s not just hovering.

Melissa doesn’t read into his nerves at all, eyes lighting up at the mention.

Melissa: You aren’t the only one. It’s seriously getting some buzz. Isn’t it great? I feel like it’s definitely destined for platinum cert, maybe even faster than “O.M.G.” Hart really is something else, isn’t she?

Josh: Yeah. Yeah, she sure… [ getting back on track ] I just wanted to know why I wasn’t credited.

Melissa: What?

Josh: On the song. “LolliPop.” I co-wrote it with Maya. I produced it for her when she first laid it down. We made the entire demo together but I didn’t get any credit on the final track.

Even though it sounds basically exactly the same as when they created it. Melissa nods, humming, then gives him a sympathetic smile. She nods to the chair opposite her desk, inviting him to sit down. He does.

Melissa: I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t realize you wanted to talk this through. If I knew you had questions, we would have had this conversation way sooner. Like, when the song came out. I’m sure Justin would hate hearing that you felt weird about it too.

Josh: Yeah.

Melissa: Basically, it’s a logistical thing. Yes, you laid down the initial scaffolding -- and it’s fucking great scaffolding, let me tell you that much -- but you didn’t do the official production work to get it to delivery. You didn’t get it from point A to point B, out there into the world. That was after the demo, when Justin and I stepped in. That’s why we took the official track credit.

Josh: Okay…

Melissa: It’s kind of arcane, but it’s all this like legal jargon bullshit that Global Beat has us follow about who can get credited. When you get to our level, you’ll get it. Keeps the credits from getting overinflated, from people getting their names on things they shouldn’t. It’s meant to protect us, really -- protect you, especially, as a young creator in the industry.

And yet, here he is, with no credit. Make it make sense? Josh seems like he wants to ask more, like to, you know, make it make sense, but this conversation was already nerve-wracking enough. Melissa speaks so confidently about it, like she knows what she’s talking about, and she has way more experience under her belt than him. She’s never given him reason to distrust her perspective before.

Josh: Right. Okay.

Melissa: I’m sorry, though. The way this went down is shitty. Clearly you’ve got chops growing in though. How about Justin and I find some time to get you in the studio with us next time one of our roster is mixing something new, so we can get you in from the ground up. Since we know you’re interested in that now. Does that sound good?

Josh: Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks.

Melissa smiles, promising him it’s a date. She’ll make sure to find time in their studio calendar. As Josh gets to his feet, she remembers another detail.

Melissa: Maya wanted you credited, just so you know.

This does surprise him. He raises his eyebrows.

Josh: She did?

Melissa: Yeah, of course. We always let our talent chime in about the credits -- especially on solo written tracks -- and you were all over her initial notes. No confusion there. Unfortunately, it was the process after that made us strip it, but the intention was there.

Josh: You let artists write their credits, but then you don’t follow it?

Melissa: Look, I know it’s bullshit, all right? Believe me. But again, it’s bureaucracy. Procedure. All that crap. I just thought you might wanna know she had you in there at the start. I would’ve kept you there too, if we could have.

Still seems a little shifty, but the Maya part of it sounds genuine. She really did believe he was going to get his name on it. That makes the wound sting a bit less.

And makes him feel a whole lot more sheepish.

INT. AIRBNB - DAY

There’s no room for sheepish in Jade’s life right now. She’s turned the living area of her AirBnB into a mini workshop basically overnight, already working on brainstorming for the assignments Luz gave her. She’s hyper-focused on one design in particular at the moment, the high school one, pulling together fabric and color samples on the round dining table. A knitting needle is stuck through her messy bun.

This work isn’t frantic, though, or stressful. If anything, Jade seems relaxed, in the zone. She’s creatively stimulated again, much more in her element and back to the way costuming used to make her feel.

She also seems to have a decent grip on work-life balance, as she’s able to pull herself away from the work when there’s a knock at her door. She steps over the bags of supplies she bought and goes to answer it, greeting Isa as they enter. Isa gets a load of the space.

Isa: Wow. Already busy.

Jade agrees, but she’s in good spirits about it. It’s a much better kind of busy, leagues better than working at Anya Kelly’s. Isa doesn’t doubt her, but they do feel obligated to check in.

Isa: So you’re not like, overworking, right? You’re not gonna pull like the costumer equivalent of Zay wiping out on his tendon or whatever?

Jade: Yeah, no. I think if I were gonna do that, it would have been last semester. No this… [ taking stock of it all ] This is good. Feels good, creative. I feel like me again.

And besides, she does want to make a good first impression, so it all works out. But she is very capable of taking breaks, as they’re about to do. While Jade pulls herself together somewhat so they can go out, she asks Isa how things are going with Zachary.

Jade: I hope you’re hanging out with me because we’re friends and both in the city and not because you wanted to be literally anywhere else.

Isa: No, no. No worries there. It’s been… I mean, I’m a master at making things a mess, but all in all it could be worse. Everyone is really nice. Well, mostly everyone.

Jade: Mostly?

Isa: The older brother doesn’t seem to like me very much.

Jade: Oh, I wouldn’t take that personally. He’s like what, eleven?

Isa: Twelve.

Jade: Yeah, exactly. All of my brothers were absolute gremlins at that age. Even Trevor, and he’s like, the sweetest one out of all of us. Wouldn’t have believed it then.

Anyway, considering Isa doesn’t have much worse to say -- carefully avoiding the sticky Val topic -- that is a pretty good diagnosis to start. Jade admits she still can’t believe their father is Z.D. Roman. It’s kind of surreal.

Isa: More or less than Valerie De La Cruz as a mom?

Jade: Touché. Though to be honest, I was more familiar with her work. I haven’t seen a ton of your dad’s stuff. Oh, except the spy movies -- I loved those when I was in middle school.

I mean, who doesn’t love a good spy thriller, full of intrigue and mystery and flair? In fact, we’ve got one of our own basically going on right now… as the iconic piano intro kicks up…

EXT. INTERLUDE - NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Live And Let Die” as performed by Paul McCartney || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

In homage to the classic genre films, and with an ensemble rendition of one of the best Bond themes of all time, we get a stylized thriller montage of our own!

The sequence starts on the darkened city streets while the slow piano builds to the opening crescendo, the sun rising over Manhattan and setting the scene for our spy scenery. Then, as the music picks up speed, we take off, zooming through the streets until we arrive outside a now familiar apartment building. We scale up, up, up, to the right floor and through the window --

INT. INTERLUDE - CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Where we meet our two heroes, both of them stepping out of their rooms at the same time. First, we stop on Lucas, who freeze-frames with a cool, unbothered expression on his face. A sleek introduction pops up in silver and blue lettering on the screen:

Lucas James King of the Underworld Reformed (mostly) ex-delinquent Brains & Brawn

Then we flip to Charlie on the opposite side of the screen. He doesn’t look nearly as cool, nor unbothered, but he’s trying his best. He gives Lucas a smile, which is of course where it freeze-frames, capturing his trying-his-best grin.

Charlie Gardner The Roommate Reformed (definitely) ex-saint Catholic honeypot

With that out of the way, we’ve got investigating to do! The two of them head out while the music tumbles on…

INT. INTERLUDE - APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

And we follow them racing downstairs, right on tempo with the beat.

EXT. INTERLUDE - APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Once we make it to the first floor around 1:15, the doors swing open, Lucas and Charlie emerging into the sunlight. They both look much more “espionage” now, donning clothes similar to their usual style but in distinctive sleek blacks and grays. Lucas has a snapback back on, only clearly newer than the one he wore out in high school, and Charlie has tied the top of his hair back into a small ponytail.

Now we’re talking business. Lucas and Charlie exchange a look, then a nod, before marching towards the camera and into the fray. The screen converges to black --

INT. INTERLUDE - DARKNESS WALK - DAY

Then shifts to something else entirely when the music shifts around 1:20. We’re now in a cartoon landscape, stylized a la The Pink Panther (1963) or The Incredibles concept artwork, with many shadowy corners and closed off doorways.

An animated Lucas and Charlie lurch into the frame, both of them creeping their way along through the shadows. They peer through windows, pull open doors to peek, doing their very crafty investigative cartoon sneaking. Lucas pulls open a dark blue doorway, which creeeaks like the song around 1:29.

Charlie reaches for the next one, but it swings open and catches him by surprise as the music explodes in harmonies. He scrambles back and falls into Lucas, who catches him around the waist before he totally face plants. They exchange a look, Charlie giving him a bashful smile, before brushing themselves off and rushing back to work.

They dash off-screen --

EXT. INTERLUDE - NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And reemerge in the streets, ducking into alleyways and around corners. Every time they disappear and reappear, they alternate between their real physical forms and their cartoon counterparts, just as you might see in a stylized film intro.

EXT. INTERLUDE - CENTRAL PARK - DAY

When the song slows down at the bridge, so does Charlie, distracted from his mission. He’s spotted something across the park, and it has utterly stolen his attention.

Zay. Just a few yards away, within sight but out of reach. A million miles away in his heart, kept at a safe distance as all great spy love interests are destined to be. As the orchestra swells, Zay gets his very own slow-motion head turn, really milking the theatricality of the rose-tinted gaze.

And boy, is it working. Charlie watches from that safe distance, gaze as wistful as ever. As if this dangerous life he leads -- and not like, literally everything else about reality -- is the only thing keeping them apart.

But if this ever-changing world in which we live in Makes you give in and cry…

Then the camera pans slightly, reminding us that Lucas is still here, and he doesn’t have time for this. He gives Charlie a side-eye, then elbows him pointedly. Time to go. This shakes Charlie out of his fugue, and he nods, the two of them marching off into the great thriller unknown again.

EXT. INTERLUDE - NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The final dash through Manhattan continues through the rest of the montage, intercutting between the real-life streets and the darkened passages of the stylized cartoon as they go. A handful of other “credits” pop up on the screen here, just to add some legitimacy to the whole thing:

Riley Matthews The True Brains of the Operation But Don’t Underestimate Her Cohort

Jack Hunter Soon-to-Be School Board Member (or else they die trying) Father Figure (but they won’t admit it)

Evelyn Rand The Boss Probably Going to Fire Lucas After This

Jefferson Davis Graham Evil

INT. INTERLUDE - CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

The montage concludes with the two of them climbing into Charlie’s car, viewed from behind the front seats. They exchange one more look, then a final nod (because who actually uses words around here), before driving off onto the next great adventure.

At least, if this were a Z.D. Roman spy thriller, it would probably go something like that.

INT. PINHEAD THREADS - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Jade is showing some of her initial design ideas to her coworkers, trying to get a read on if she’s on the right track with what the company would go for. Based on their enthusiastic responses, she’s doing pretty well. Carlos compliments her use of color, and Waverly commends her attempt to do something different with materials. It’s a bold move, something ambitious, and that’ll fly well.

Speaking of bold and ambitious, the crew seems even more excited about their pitch for Jade. Now that they’ve explored the daylight L.A., and she’s gotten adjusted to the office, it’s time to take her for a walk on the dark side -- that is, go out for a night of fun as a team. It’s almost the weekend, baby, and they can’t let this one pass without initiating her into the city the right way!

This prospect definitely makes Jade a bit nervous, given that nightlife was never her scene, but she doesn’t want to miss out. She does feel comfortable with her coworkers, and she doesn’t want to end up like she did at Anya’s where her entire life was work and no play. If her friends from home were here, she knows they’d encourage her to get out of her shell.

She can do this. So she smiles and agrees, to the delight of her colleagues.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

The espionage vibes are still on display as we flip back to New York, Lucas and Charlie both poring over the pieces they have to the mystery so far in their apartment. They’ve spread out any evidence on the kitchen counter, leaning over it and scrutinizing it as if it’ll suddenly give them all the answers. The room is cast in shadow, stylized very film noir.

Right now, their focus is the pictures they took at Brennan’s office.

Lucas: So the money doesn’t add up.

Charlie: No. At least, it’s not all going where it’s supposed to be going.

Lucas: But again -- why? Surely they don’t need this much secrecy around the finances of a local campaign that most people don’t even know or care about. Manhattan is big, but it’s not that big. It’s not like this is all over the news.

Charlie: Yeah, I don’t know. It seems odd. If it’s that important to obscure, it’s probably worth finding out.

Lucas: Which means we need to fill in the gaps of this money trail.

The darkened atmosphere is disrupted when Riley steps into the apartment, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dark. She doesn’t lose her cheerful tone.

Riley: Wow. It’s dark in here. Mind if I turn on the lights?

Well, if you insist, Riley. Lucas and Charlie straighten up as light returns to the room and the meta mood fades. No more irony, back to serious business! Riley asks how things are going, and they give her the short version of what they’ve accumulated so far. Graham’s strange connections to these funding groups, the policy promises (or nods to such), the mysterious gaps in funding.

Charlie: But we’re sure some of it has to be going to Connelly’s campaign. That’s all part of the tie-in, that having him as a member will surely usher in some of these initiatives.

Lucas: And my guess is, that’s where the money for all those smear ads is coming from.

Oh, now Riley is peeved. Of course, it’s all being funded by dark money. Makes her hope Jack can beat Connelly even harder, just so those tactics can go down in smoke. It’s no guarantee that anything they’re looking into will have any bearing on the election, but they can dream.

Riley: So, what next? How do you connect the dots?

Lucas: We need proof. Of all of it.

Charlie: Starting with the main question -- where is this money coming from beyond shadow PACs? How are the orgs like that charity marketing themselves? There could be blowback there.

Lucas: And for what in exchange? Because clearly, it seems like something is being bargained for.

Riley: Smells fishy. I know no one cares about ethics anymore, but no matter how you slice it, if a seat is being bought on the board essentially, that’s not a good look.

Charlie: That’s definitely what the Connelly campaign looks like, at least based on this.

Riley: How are you going to get proof of that, though? There has to be a paper trail, or some evidence of exchange between all these people, but I don’t see how you’re going to be able to get access to that.

Charlie: We’re already working on that.

Lucas: Yeah. [ patting his shoulder ] Charlie here called in a favor from an old friend.

Based on his expression, that is not how Charlie would put it. The screen flips --

INT. CHUBBIES - FLASHBACK - DAY

Taking us to exactly that moment when he called in said favor. Charlie and Lucas are sitting across from DWEEZIL HOWARD, who looks very unhappy to be there. He clearly still has bad blood towards Charlie, and it’s not as though Charlie is any fonder towards him.

But desperate times call for desperate measures. They give Dweezil the short version of what they need from him -- essentially, they need him to hack some emails.

Dweezil: Are you serious? You know that’s like, illegal, right?

Lucas: How about for the sake of everyone’s time, moving forward, we just assume I know all too well what’s legal and what isn’t.

Charlie: We’re not planning to use this information nefariously. We’re more confirming our own investigation than anything else. Just with… unconventional means.

Dweezil: You’d never be able to use anything you found in court. Because it would be stolen. You realize that, right?

Lucas: If this gets out the way it should, the authorities will have all the resources necessary to do their own investigation. We’re not trying to work the justice system here. I don’t care if any of these ancient relics do time. I just want the truth.

And for others to have access to the truth. If they’re going to vote someone into office, they should have the full knowledge of who they’re dealing with. That’s all. Still, Dweezil is unconvinced. He sneers.

Dweezil: And why the hell should I lift a finger to help you? After everything you did to me?

Lucas, unimpressed: Uh, I would say what you all did to him, but --

Dweezil: They took away my admission to MIT. Did you know that?

Lucas: Better that than serving prison time.

Dweezil: Now I’m stuck with Cornell. Fucking Cornell.

Okay, let’s relax. Cornell is still a good school, prick. Charlie tries to take the empathetic approach, explaining to Dweezil just what exactly these conservative board members stand for. He’s not one to lecture people about politics, but this is a place where they can really make a difference. If they can avoid a conservative majority on the board, they’ll be sparing a lot of Manhattan students injustices and unfair policies for years to come. Especially the ones who need a safe space at their schools the most -- like the queer ones, which Dweezil should understand.

That’s a sweet pitch, but unlike Charlie, some people just don’t give a shit about everyone else. Dweezil laughs at this instead.

Dweezil: Wow, look at you, Charlie. [ mockingly ] Good little hetero Catholic ally.

Charlie looks a little nauseous. Lucas is over it, cutting to the chase.

Lucas: Or, you can consider the alternative, where we send your vandalism records to Cornell and don’t forget to include the part where you hacked into the security systems to make it happen for your “brotherhood.” I’m sure Cornell will love to learn that about their second-choice student. [ flatly ] Your choice, dipshit.

Harsh, but effective. Good cop, bad cop for real out here. Charlie glances at Lucas, then attempts to match his aloof bravado, slouching back in the booth and mimicking his eyebrow raise. Well?

Dweezil scowls.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

But it got him to cooperate, and that’s all that matters. So he’s looking into that, and will hopefully have some pieces of the puzzle back their way soon. Though neither of them are particularly looking forward to combing through the email records of a bunch of 70-somethings.

All that leaves is putting the money trail together, which Lucas is positive relies on Graham. He’s basically been running Connelly’s campaign from the inside, and he’s more than tied into the strange communications about it considering he was the one who got the letter from Brennan in the first place.

Lucas: My guess is he’ll have some sort of paper trail at the office, because he’s a dinosaur. It may not say in bold writing “hey, here are my illegal campaign contributions” or whatever, but we can match shapes and call a spade a spade.

Riley: Wouldn’t technically be illegal, I don’t think, but I see what you’re saying. Still wouldn’t be a good look, and that matters right now. Do you have a plan?

Lucas: Each of the board members has their own filing cabinet in the office, in the storage closet. I’m nearly certain if he has the information, he would put it there, because no one ever goes in there. Seriously, it’s a wonder why we even have it.

Charlie: Sounds like the one at my church. I’m pretty sure there are cabinets in there that haven’t been opened since the 1950s. [ a beat ] Don’t care to know what’s inside.

Lucas: Getting in will be no problem, provided I can get my hands on his assistant’s set of keys. Then it’ll just be about timing it when Graham is out, which I’m not too concerned about. The main curveball is Evelyn -- she can’t see me doing this. If she does, I’m toast, along with any other employment prospect I have still hanging on by a thread.

Riley: Okay, so how are you going to handle that? Because you’re right, I don’t want you to get fired over this. Neither would Jack.

Lucas: Not to worry, I’ve got a plan. [ crossing his arms ] Lucky for me, I have a very pretty roommate.

Wow, that’s so nice! Charlie smiles, touched by the unexpected compliment. He meets Lucas’s eyes, about to thank him… then recognizes the smirk on his face. The one that means trouble for him.

Oh, Neptune.

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

Maya is catching up with her mom on the phone that evening, brushing her hair to keep it glossy and in top shape as they chat. Once all the updates about her music have been covered, Katy addresses what she’s really wondering about -- how is her social life going? She knows Farkle has been so busy lately, and she just wants to make sure she’s still feeling support out there.

It’s impressive how well her mom can read her, even thousands of miles away. She hit on exactly the emotion Maya has been avoiding since they came back from break. But she continues to dodge it, brushing off the concern and assuring her she’s fine. She’s Maya Hart -- when has she ever needed constant company?

That’s all well and good, and Katy is endeared by her confidence, but she reiterates that it’s important to have a support system too. Especially in her business. She just wants to make sure she’s keeping up with her friends and having fun at the same time that she’s dominating the music scene. Does she want her to come out there for a few days? Just to see how things are going?

Based on her frown, the last thing Maya wants is for her mom to waste time and money worrying about her. She promises her she’s doing fine, and she can handle it. She lies a bit and claims she has plenty of social avenues she could take advantage of, she’s just using her time wisely. That’s all.

Once she’s managed to talk Katy off the concerned-mom ledge, they say goodnight, leaving Maya alone again. She tries not to think about the icky feelings that conversation stirred up, going back to taking care of her hair. But she gets caught on her reflection in the mirror of her vanity, not pleased to see a bit of wetness shining in her eyes.

This is ridiculous. What is she so worked up over? She’s doing everything right. She’s got killer producers and management, and two pop hits on the charts with the promise of an EP in the future. She’s on top of her game, in a city of dreams, with the whole world in front of her. This is what she’s been waiting for. This is what it’s all about.

And she’s got the best company she’ll ever have. The person who got her here in the first place -- herself.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “By Myself” as performed by Renée Zellweger || Performed by Maya Hart

Maya eases into the biopic banger honoring Judy Garland, channeling her ethereal grace and legacy as she locks eyes with her own reflection. She sings declaratively to herself, not breaking eye contact, not looking away to remind herself that this is the one person she can count on.

As she sings, the lighting around her begins to change, becoming more stage-like and theatrical. The room around her darkens until just the vanity is visible, and a spotlight glows on her from above.

Then at the halfway point, as the jazzy riff picks up, she gets up from the vanity chair.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya bursts out of her room into a staged version of her apartment, more stylized to dramatize the way she sees things right now. Along the wall outside Farkle’s closed bedroom door, photos of Jordan’s face have taken up all the free real estate.

As she sashays through a vocal run, Maya takes her nail file and flings it across the room dismissively. It lands square in the center of Jordan’s face, gauging his perfect image.

Maya sweeps out of the apartment --

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - NIGHT

And takes her triumphant solo to the streets, now in her best glamor wear. Only rather than her usual baby pink, she’s opted for a black color scheme, emulating the black-and-white drama of filmic past and also perhaps in a shade of mourning.

What exactly she’s grieving, she isn’t quite sure, but she doesn’t have time to address it. She’s too busy shining like the star she is, doing everything she’s meant to do -- with or without her best friends.

How I wanted love and fell Now I say what the hell!

She carries the brassy anthem of self-assurance to a bombastic finish, stepping up into the lights of the streets from behind and the imaginary spotlight from above. She throws her arms out and head back, declaring in a belt what she desperately hopes will be true.

She doesn’t need Farkle. She doesn’t need Josh, or Isa, or anyone. She’s all she needs. They’ll see.

'Cause its solo, all alone By myself, from now on!

The song finishes with a flourish, the orchestra concluding with fanfare, before the screen cuts to black.

END OF PART 1.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The door to the dressing room hall opens, Riley cautiously poking her head in. Once she’s confirmed the coast is clear, she grins, stepping in and gesturing behind her. Nigel follows uncertainly as they make their way through the wings back onto the familiar stage.

Nigel: Are you sure we should be here? We could get caught by faculty, or like… students. I’m not sure which one I’m more intimidated by, frankly.

Riley: Please. This was us literally six months ago. And Eric let me in this time, so we’re fine. You should’ve been here one of the times we broke in.

Okay, that’s news to Nigel, but he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. He follows Riley to center stage, both of them standing and looking out towards the empty house. It feels a bit surreal to be there again, together, even though it really wasn’t so long ago that they were there. With everything that’s happened, suppose it feels like it’s been a thousand years.

Nigel finally asks why exactly Riley brought them here. Not that it isn’t nice to be back, just to see it, but he assumes there’s a greater reason.

Riley: I thought it might help to go back to your roots, so to speak. We’re grappling with all these choices, trying to figure out what direction to grow in, but it wasn’t always so hard to decide. [ gesturing around them ] What was it that drew you to Adams in the first place? Because unlike NYU, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because it seemed like the obvious thing to do. The thing everyone expected you to do.

True enough… in fact, as Nigel admits, his parents were pretty wary about the idea. Not because they didn’t support him -- they’ve always been positive about his love for acting, and supported those passions in whatever ways they could -- but because it was a world they didn’t understand. Neither of them are especially creative, and it can seem like a lot for those who haven’t stepped inside its walls.

Riley: Honestly, it seems like a lot for those who have stepped inside. I think Adams is just a lot. End of sentence.

Nigel: I knew they were nervous about it. And I think they thought, or maybe I expected, that that would make me nervous too. But I wasn’t. I knew how badly I wanted to act, so getting to go to a school where I could do that all the time, and be paid a scholarship to do it no less, felt like a no-brainer. And it was. I made the leap, but once I got here… it was just right. It made sense.

He hasn’t had the same experience at NYU. It hasn’t felt right. That’s exactly what Riley wanted him to highlight. There’s no guarantee that jumping somewhere else will make it all perfectly work out, but doesn’t he owe it to himself to find out?

Riley: You have good instincts, Nigel. They’re trying to tell you something. You just have to listen to your own voice -- you have to trust yourself.

They both could afford to. Hell, all of them could -- that’s the part of life they’re in right now. They’re all stumbling through it, searching for the right fit, and change is basically part of the package deal. It’s okay to be the catalyst of that change.

Riley: Better to bend your world to suit you in whatever ways you can than bend yourself into something unrecognizable to fit the world.

What that means for Nigel, only he can determine. But he has the freedom to decide. Nigel absorbs that, then thanks Riley sincerely. She returns his smile, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Nigel: By the way, does therapizing run in your family, or what? Because that was a Counselor E level pep talk you just gave.

Riley laughs.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - THEATER - DAY

Zay is on the stage of one of the smaller theaters on campus, starting to piece together the beginnings of his audition routine. It’s clear he’s already chosen the song he wants to use to represent his story -- that must’ve been the easy part -- but conveying his narrative into choreography will be the challenge.

He’s pulled out of it when the auditorium door opens. He immediately grows protective, starting to hide his sketch sheets… but when it’s only Yindra, he relaxes. Nothing to hide from her.

He does wonder what she’s doing there though, and she claims she wanted to come thank him in person. She has officially booked her return flight to Los Angeles, so his little experiment of rallying her out of her funk seems to have worked. It’s stupid of her not to at least see this thing through, since she was so sure it was what she wanted for so long. She’ll never know if she doesn’t seize the moment now that she has it.

Yindra: Can always count on you to know how to wake me up.

Zay: [ with a shrug ] Real sees real. Diva sees diva. That’s what best friends are for.

Indeed. The audition run definitely helped her overcome her out-of-character anxiety, and got her energized again. But she thinks a big part of that was that she got to do it all with him -- that she wasn’t alone. She needed that reminder.

Zay: Always. Metaphorically speaking. But you’ve got people out there in L.A. who you can lean on too, you know. I mean, I’m sure if you asked Farkle to help you with some audition thing, he would like die from excitement. He wouldn’t act like it, obviously, but you know. He’s a suck-up at heart.

Yindra: Yeah… they’re not my usual crowd out there, but…

They’re still family. In their weird, quirky Adams definition of family. She doesn’t have to wait until she’s got it all figured out to let them into her life.

Zay: Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, none of us are really doing exactly what we want to be doing yet. If we had to wait until we had it all figured out, I think some of us would be dying alone.

That’s part of the thrill of it all, after all. Yindra is definitely feeling reconnected to that sense of excitement around performing, and it’s good to be back… in fact, she might just be feeling a bit inspired right now, standing there on a perfectly good stage with her bestie…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “What A Feeling” as performed by Irene Cara || Performed by Yindra Amino and Zay Babineaux

Another film soundtrack classic, Yindra launches into the energetic pop anthem first. She manages to pull Zay into it with her, dancing playfully around on the stage. The simple, no-stakes collaboration serves not only as a love letter to their craft, the passion that makes them both bear the proud title of diva, but also as a testament to the two of them and their one-of-a-kind friendship.

And damn right, they can have it all!

INT. YINDRA’S ROOM - DAY

Once the performance concludes, Yindra ends up back in her room, alone again but lighter than before. She flops onto her bed and releases a sigh, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Then she sits up, unlocking her phone and pulling up her email app.

She opens the latest email from Reese Dalton-King, rereading what he said and absorbing it. This potential path is full of unknowns, it’s true, and there’s no guarantees, but isn’t that just part of the ride? At least she’s been shown a path to follow.

And she’s had enough of turning away from it. With a deep breath, she starts to type back a reply, apologizing for the delay in response. She’ll be back in L.A. soon, and once she’s there, she’d love to set up a time to finally chat.

She hits send, and just like that, we’re rolling again. The wheels are officially in motion.

EXT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Speaking of wheels, a different set of them pulls to a stop at the curb outside the school board building.

Charlie hops out of his car, glancing down the street in both directions before crossing the road and heading up the steps to the office.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Lucas is at his cube, diligently sending some emails when Charlie emerges from the elevators down the hall. He exchanges an awkward smile with the worker waiting to go down as he passes, then quickly approaches Lucas’s desk. Lucas lifts his head and starts to greet him with a nod, but Charlie starts speaking before he can say anything.

Charlie, stilted: Hi, Lucas. It’s me, your roommate, here to meet you for a good, fun roommate lunch. Someone has to make sure you’re eating right. Ha ha.

Lucas blinks at him, waiting for him to finish, remaining impressively deadpan.

Lucas: Who are you talking to?

Charlie frowns, self-conscious, then gets a better look around. As it turns out, his pointed introduction was pointless -- they’re the only two in the office hall at the moment, and most of the board members have their doors closed. No one probably even noticed him come in.

Charlie: Sorry, I thought -- [ lowering his voice ] I thought we were going for lowkey?

Lucas: Yeah, which you are decidedly not. I thought Brennan’s was bad enough.

Well, damn, Lucas! You’re the one who keeps making him be the distraction! Charlie huffs, embarrassed, but Lucas is already past it. He assures Charlie that lucky for them both, his next task in helping him will be easy. No talking required -- all he has to do is keep an eye out while Lucas steps into the filing office to look through Graham’s drawer for a paper trail on the missing money.

Charlie: Right. Cool. And you’re sure you can get in?

Lucas: Please. Filing cabinets are chump change. I could jimmy it in my sleep if I had to. But in this case, I won’t need to.

He opens his palm and releases a small key, letting it drop and dangle from a lanyard around his fingers.

Lucas: Swiped it from his assistant’s desk when she left for lunch. I swear, people in these cushy office jobs make it too easy.

To be fair, most people don’t expect to have an investigative kleptomaniac as their cube neighbor… Charlie makes a face, but doesn’t comment.

Lucas: Anyway, she usually takes about thirty minutes, and she’s always back about two minutes before Graham. We should be fine, I’ll be in and out in a flash.

If he says so. Charlie nods, sticking by the cube as Lucas gets up. He comes around and gives Charlie a pat on the shoulder, nodding towards the elevators to keep an eye in that direction. Then he makes his way over to the filing office, quietly opening the door and disappearing inside.

Left alone on the outside, Charlie clears his throat, awkwardly propping his elbow on the cube top. So casual. So lowkey.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - FILING ROOM - DAY

Lucas takes stock once he steps inside, scanning the rows of filing cabinets for the right one. It doesn’t take him long, given they’re labeled, and when he slides the key into the lock it works like a charm. He does a little fist bump to himself and pulls the Graham drawer open.

That was the easy part. Now he’s left to sift through dozens of file folders, most poorly labeled (as all bureaucratic filing systems seem to be), and on the clock at that. He takes a deep breath and dives in, looking for any sort of hint that might indicate a folder is newer or more relevant to his search -- nicer, fresher folders, edges tabbed or creased from use, smudge marks.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Charlie continues to idly look around, subconsciously tap dancing in place to channel his fidgety energy. He gets momentarily distracted by one of the tchotchkes Lucas has sitting on the top of his cube.

It’s a crocheted bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, clearly the work of a certain Dyl Pickle as a celebratory gift to decorate Lucas’s new workspace. It’s pretty darn cute! Charlie smiles lightly, picking up one of the meatballs to get a better look at the little eyes and smile it has stitched into it.

Only Charlie fumbles it when one of the assistant’s phones suddenly rings, startling him. He drops the meatball and when he scrambles to catch it, knocks over the entire yarn bowl. Whoops! Charlie grimaces and glances around to make sure no one heard the silent yarn crash to the floor, then ducks around to Lucas’s cube to pick up the spilled spaghetti.

So smooth. So lowkey.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - FILING ROOM - DAY

Lucas has pulled out a couple of files, now thumbing through their contents on top of the cabinet. A lot of it is just paperwork drudgery no one would care to read through… but he might be getting closer to something. There’s some bookkeeping from the last couple of months that might be useful, and a log of all the main contacts Graham does business and communications with.

He doesn’t waste time taking note of it. He kneels and spreads all of it out on the floor, quickly snapping photos so he can get a more in-depth look later.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Over by the stairwell, the elevator dings. Charlie pops back up from behind Lucas’s cube a second later, eyes wide, listening carefully. It sounds like someone might be stepping out onto their floor…

Evelyn, off-screen: Yes, I hear you, and I completely understand that. I’ll be sure to bring over any documentation we have when I get there, but the longer we’re on this call --

Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot! Charlie silently screams and frantically puts the crochet spaghetti back in place, sprinting around the cube so he’s back in front of it. He arrives there just in time as Evelyn struts in and hangs up the phone.

Charlie, loudly: Evelyn Rand!

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - FILING ROOM - DAY

Lucas hears Charlie’s greeting, his lack of chill coming in handy this time. He freezes, looking up towards the door with equally wide eyes.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Evelyn jumps slightly, only just realizing Charlie is there. Once she recognizes him, she offers him a polite albeit bewildered smile.

Evelyn: Charlie Gardner. What a pleasant surprise. You’re back from your time abroad then?

Charlie: Yes. Yep. [ with an awkward laugh ] Je suis ici!

Here I am! Indeed… Evelyn nods.

Evelyn: I’m sure your friends are quite happy you’re back. And what brings you here today?

Charlie: Oh, I’m here for lunch. With Lucas. Your assistant. [ a beat ] He’s my roommate. Now.

Evelyn: Ah.

Charlie: I mean, we were friends already. So, that’s also why. We don’t have to be roommates to get lunch. Ha ha.

Right… Evelyn nods again, obviously torn between amusement and confusion.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - FILING ROOM - DAY

Lucas, on the other hand, is simply pained. It’s truly painful, listening to Charlie talk sometimes. But still, it’s buying him time, and he’s not going to waste it. Once he’s done crossing his eyes at the babble he carefully but quickly gathers the paperwork back into the folders, trying to work as fast as possible.

The scene continues intercut between the two --

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Evelyn lets her gaze flit to Lucas’s cube, which is notably empty.

Evelyn: Where is Lucas? Don’t see how you’ll be able to get lunch without him.

Charlie: Oh, he’s… in the bathroom.

Lucas pauses, rolling his eyes. Thanks for that. But Charlie’s not finished.

Charlie: Washing his hands. You know, before we eat. Very hygienic, that one. Takes his cleanliness very seriously. Great roommate quality. I would know, because I’m his roommate. Like I said.

Evelyn: … right. [ with a smile ] Well, it’s nice to see you again. If you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to a lunch meeting myself…

Which she’ll be right on the way back towards, once she grabs the documentation she promised them. It should be just inside the filing room --

Charlie: No!

Lucas goes still, holding his breath. Evelyn pauses at the same time, turning back to look at Charlie in surprise. He seems equally surprised at his own outburst; it might have helped to have a follow-up on the tip of his tongue.

Evelyn: I’m sorry?

Charlie: I just… um… I just remembered something really important that I needed to talk to you about. Actually.

Evelyn: Oh. That is?

That is? Charlie opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Lucas slowly puts the files back in the cabinet.

Charlie: It’s a… policy concern. That I’m very… concerned about.

Evelyn seems more concerned about his mental stability. She raises her eyebrows.

Evelyn: I see. Well, if you’d like to raise an issue to the board’s attention, there is a form on our website for those kind of submissions.

Charlie: Right. Of course.

Evelyn: Otherwise, you’re welcome to set up some time to discuss further. Lucas will be able to help you with that. Now, I really must be --

Evelyn reaches for the filing room door, her shadow visible on the other side of the frosted glass window. Lucas curses under his breath, ducking back against the wall and screwing his eyes shut. Any second now, he’s totally busted --

Charlie panics, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind with diva-worthy conviction.

Charlie: SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE!

Lucas makes a face, mouthing “what?”

Evelyn does the same, spinning to look at Charlie again.

Evelyn: What?

It’s now or never. Charlie runs with it, nodding emphatically.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m really worried about the state of… religion in school these days. I know the constitution explicitly lays out a divide between the two, or at least government-funded schooling, but… does that have to mean a complete absence of faith from the lives of our nation’s children?

Once he gets started, it’s like he can’t stop. All that secondhand inhalation of Fox News comes in clutch, because he’s able to rattle off conservative talking points about the sheer blasphemy of public schools like it’s nothing. Not that he believes one word of it, but his delivery is frantic enough from the sheer stakes of covering for Lucas that he passes for catastrophic Catholic. In fact, it’s like he’s been possessed by Eleanor herself.

It’s enough of a display to totally disarm Evelyn, and even Lucas is stunned enough to shift from dread to being mildly impressed. Not bad, Chuckles.

Even better, it does exactly what it needs to do. Sensing that Charlie might be in actual crisis -- of some kind, at least, though it’s anybody’s guess what -- Evelyn softens, offering him a kind smile and clasping her hands together in front of her.

Evelyn: Would you like to come have a chat in my office, Mister Gardner? Perhaps with a cup of decaf tea?

Bingo. Charlie lets out a relieved sigh, returning her smile with a charming, practiced one of his own.

Charlie: That would be lovely.

And just like that, true crisis averted. Charlie follows Evelyn down the hall to her office, lightly rapping his knuckles against the filing room door as they pass to give an all-clear. Lucas exhales a heavy breath, closing the cabinet drawer and locking it back up with a flourish.

EXT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

Minutes later, Lucas and Charlie emerge from the building together, jogging down the steps towards Charlie’s car.

Charlie: That was horrible. Literally awful. That might be the most mortifying, atrocious experience I’ve ever had in my entire life.

Lucas: Thesaurus bonus. Also, I don’t believe that.

Charlie: Well then, next time, you can play distraction for once!

Lucas rolls his eyes, letting Charlie blow off steam. It was a little embarrassing maybe, but he did fine. The stakes could’ve been way higher. Lucas holds up a hand and Charlie tosses the keys at him.

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

They climb into the car, Lucas behind the wheel as they discuss what he found and what they’re going to do next. They’re going to need more time to actually examine the documents he took photos of, but the numbers looked promising. If they can connect the dots between Brennan and Graham, that’ll be something, won’t it?

Perhaps, but Charlie is still a bit too shaken from the humiliation to parse it over.

EXT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

We watch Charlie’s car drive away from the curb, on its way… then moments later, another car pulls onto the road, following in the same direction.

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

As Lucas pulls onto the street, he tries to placate Charlie.

Lucas: Look, you did fine. How about we play you some music or whatever you theater kids like and then maybe you’ll calm down.

Charlie: I don’t see how music is going to help.

Lucas: Okay, maybe you’re less theater kid than I thought. I respect that. Still, it might distract you. You have an aux or something? [ glancing at the dashboard ] Or I guess this CD player works? You already have a disc in there?

Lucas reaches to press play, cueing up whatever CD Charlie already had inside the player. He reacts a second later, reaching out to smack Lucas’s hand away a moment too late.

Charlie: Wait, don’t --

Music fills the car, cutting off his protests -- in a form that is, remarkably, familiar to Lucas.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Sugar, We’re Goin Down” as performed by Fall Out Boy || Instrumental

No shit? Charlie Gardner, the angelic prodigal son of the upper East Side, has a Fall Out Boy mix CD in his car. For a long moment, as the FOB hit plays, the two of them just let that reveal sink in -- Charlie frozen like a startled rabbit, caught in the act, and Lucas processing the fact that he actually knows what song is playing and that Charlie knows it too.

Lucas smirks lightly, licking his lips.

Lucas: You listen to Fall Out Boy?

Charlie: I -- my sister made it.

Lucas: But you listen to it.

Charlie: Well --

Lucas: Hold on. Hold on.

Charlie: I --

Lucas: Charlie, are you punk rock?

He just might be, Lucas! Finally, someone is noticing! Charlie opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, which is even more entertaining to Lucas. The two of them descend into needless banter as Charlie feels the need to defend himself, which even he can acknowledge is compulsive and not necessary, but Lucas can’t help but find it a little fun to pick on him.

That is, it’s all fun and games until something catches Lucas’s eye in the rearview mirror. His smile falters, attention zeroing in on the black SUV that has pulled up behind them. It’s been tailing them the last block or so, and normally he wouldn’t think anything of it… but the darkened windows put him on edge. Charlie doesn’t notice, still mindlessly rambling about how Bridgette burned him the FOB mix years ago when she was in high school and for years he was too scared to listen to it.

Lucas is barely listening, though, more focused on the SUV. He takes an unexpected turn onto a side street, and that causes Charlie to pause, glancing back at the main street.

Charlie: Were we supposed to turn here? I thought you wanted to head back towards Chubbies.

Lucas: Hush.

Um, rude. Charlie frowns at him, affronted.

Charlie: Excuse me. I know I’m not as “lowkey” as you, but that doesn’t mean you have to shush me. I’m just trying to help.

Lucas: No, that’s not -- I know. Sorry. I wasn’t --

He’s not focused on Charlie, and for good reason. As he suspected, the SUV pulls onto the side street seconds after they do, keeping the same amount of distance between them but not losing sight of them.

They’re being tailed.

Charlie: Listen, you know -- I’m happy to help you. Seriously, I am. But if we’re going to figure this out, I think we should see each other as equals. I get that I’m not as experienced as you are in the art of… whatever the heck this is we’re even doing. But I’d appreciate it if you could even pretend that you respect my effort --

Okay, it’s really great that Charlie feels confident enough to vocalize this with him, but this is just very not the time to have this conversation. And that becomes clear in an instant when Lucas makes a risky decision and suddenly floors the gas, speeding through the remainder of the side street.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dead On Arrival” as performed by Fall Out Boy || Instrumental

Charlie, understandably, is unprepared. He grips the armrest, staring at Lucas like he’s officially lost it.

Charlie: What the hell are you -- ?!

EXT. SIDE STREET - DAY

Behind them, the SUV speeds up to keep up, revving the engine now that it appears Lucas has grown wise to being tailed. They burn rubber and pull up dangerously close behind Charlie’s car, almost ramming into them from behind.

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

But even a nudge of the bumper at this speed is jarring enough.

Lucas: Shit.

Charlie: Oh my God, what the hell? [ looking over his shoulder ] Who is that? Are they following us?

Lucas: Hold on, okay?

Charlie: They are way past the speed limit -- !

No kidding, and it’s about to get crazier. Lucas grips the steering wheel tight and grits his teeth, making a sudden hard turn out of the side street and back onto the avenue.

And thus, an honest-to-God car chase ensues, intercut between the interior of Charlie’s car and watching the cars weave on the roads. Lucas is a skillful driver even under pressure, and good thing, because weaving like he is through NYC traffic in the middle of the afternoon is no small feat.

Charlie: This is insane! What the hell is even happening?

But whoever has been sicked on them isn’t shabby either, and Lucas can’t seem to manage to shake them. Other cars honk around them, adding an unusual accompaniment to the Fall Out Boy still blaring through the speakers.

A taxi swerves out of the way as the SUV cuts them off to keep up with Lucas, nearly causing an accident. Charlie stares back through the rear window, eyes wider than they’ve ever been.

Charlie: WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

Lucas cusses and takes a hard right, getting out of the thick of traffic. Better not to drag everyone else into their crash-and-burn course. The SUV isn’t far behind.

Lucas: I can’t lose them. I don’t know how to shake them, and we can’t go back to our neighborhood like this. Fuck!

Charlie looks frantically around them, scanning the scenery. They’re in the upper East Side, his neck of the woods -- and that seems to give him an idea.

Charlie: Take a left up here.

Lucas: Are you crazy? That’s like a one-lane street. I can’t afford to crash your car into some wealthy prick’s BMW --

Charlie: Just do it!

Lucas: Charlie --

Charlie: [ in a screech ] LEFT!

Lucas lets out a groan of frustration and then takes the risk, making a sharp left onto another side street. The SUV hesitates but follows, giving them just a couple seconds more of a lead on them.

As they make their way down the block, Charlie scans the sidewalks, sitting upright.

Charlie: Slow down, and hang to the right.

Lucas: [ giving him a wild look ] Okay, seriously, do you want me to bang up a Bentley? Who are you suddenly getting revenge on? If this is payback for the distracting --

Charlie: Lucas, lean right.

The SUV is on their tail, so what choice does he have? Lucas obeys, carefully drifting to the right so that they’re on the very edge of the lane and just about to graze the cars parked along the curb.

Charlie takes a deep breath, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Lucas: What are you doing?

Charlie: Just stay steady, and get ready to go fast.

Lucas: Charlie, what the fuck --

Charlie: Trust me, all right?!

They’re coming up on the end of the block… where a few trash cans are set up further out on the curb than the others. Charlie takes a deep breath, steeling his nerve -- then he opens the car door.

Lucas: Jesus fucking Christ!

Actually, it’s Charlie fucking Gardner. He leans out the car and stretches his hand out as far as he can reach, just managing to grab onto the trash can handle as they pass. He throws it to the ground and sends it tumbling into the other one, both of them rolling out onto the street --

And effectively blocking the SUV from pursuit. It has to swerve to avoid the trash can rolling towards it and the spilled garbage all over the street, bringing it screeching to a halt.

Success!

Almost. Charlie reaches forward to grab the open car door and nearly falls out from the momentum. He lets out a gasp --

Just as Lucas grabs the collar of his sweater, yanking him back with one hand. Charlie pulls the door closed and slams back against the passenger seat as Lucas’s arm wraps around his shoulder, holding him securely long enough for him to settle back and get his seatbelt back on.

Lucas: Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Both of them catch their breath as they keep driving, Lucas heading out of the city while they’ve managed to lose the SUV. For a second, they’re both silent, catching up mentally. Finally, Charlie manages to speak.

Charlie: The Carmichaels always leave their trash way too far out on the sidewalk.

And thank God for that! Lucas gives him a look, nodding, then both of them train their eyes back out on the road ahead of them in stunned silence.

INT. LOWKEY CAFE - DAY

Absolutely out of ways to kill time on her own, Maya has found herself scouting out the rival talent at the cafe where Yindra was taking gigs. She’s idly sipping her latte at a table on her own, songwriting book open but untouched.

A bit of excitement pops up when a familiar face unexpectedly makes their way into the cafe, Jade stopping by to grab a coffee on her break. Maya spots her and her eyes widen. At first, she turns away and tries to be nonchalant -- how humiliating, being seen here moping by herself -- and is she really going to consider stooping low enough to socialize with a techie? Asher Garcia’s right hand at that?

Apparently, yes. Her boredom and lack of attention gets the best of her, and before she knows it she’s gathering her things. She casually makes her way around Jade from behind, then backs up until she “accidentally” bumps into her.

Maya: Oh, look at that! Beamon. What a surprise. I didn’t see you there.

Jade: Hey, Maya. Kind of amazed we’d bump into each other like this within my first week.

Maya: This town is microscopic tiny. Trust me, you get used to it.

After Maya gets through pretending she just happened to waltz in just then and hadn’t been sitting there already for an hour, they somehow get on the topic of how they’re spending the weekend. It takes a second to warm up into conversation though, as they’re so out of practice with one another given the Bird Bones shape that used to stand between them.

But those Adams days are over, and the simple rivalries are no match for the daunting battlefield of the real world. Here, you need all the allies you can get. So when Maya asks Jade what her plans are, she offers the truth.

Jade: My coworkers are taking me out for some L.A. nightlife socializing. A couple of parties, I think. Not my usual scene, but I think it’ll be good.

Maya: Right. Right, for sure. Sounds like fun. Socializing, mixing and mingling. I’m very familiar with the L.A. nightlife scene, of course. So I can imagine.

Jade: … right.

Maya is sure she’ll have a good time. If only she had the time for such frivolities, with her busy schedule and social engagements. Not that she was invited, or anything, but if she was, gosh she probably wouldn’t have the time to spare! It’s great Jade has the freedom to enjoy it.

Yeah, very subtle… Jade looks like it might be against her better judgment, but after a moment, she clasps her hands together and clears her throat.

Jade: Maya, do you want to come to the party? I’m sure I could ask my coworkers --

Maya: Oh, please. No, no, don’t be silly. Like I said, I’m far too busy.

Right. Okay then. Jade opens her mouth, but Maya interrupts her.

Maya: Well… maybe I’ll have a few minutes to swing by. So maybe you could send me the address just in case. On the off chance I’m able to spare a second.

Jade: … sure. Can do.

Maya gives her a smile, flipping her hair off her shoulder.

EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY

Charlie’s car pulls up to the alcove in the hideout, sun just starting to set behind the trees.

Charlie jumps from the passenger seat before Lucas can kill the engine, immediately launching into a frenzied pace. He runs his hands through his hair and tries to catch his breath, but it’s not doing him much good.

Charlie: Oh my God. Oh my God. This is absolutely insane. This is insane!

Lucas emerges from the driver’s side, coming to join Charlie in the fresh air. He’s got a frown of his own on his face, but he’s markedly less frantic than his sidekick.

Charlie: What the hell is even going on? We’re being tailed now? Doesn’t this stuff only happen in movies?

Lucas: Look, just take a deep breath, all right --

Charlie: This is crazy. We are in such deep shit. We have to get out of this. We have to stop.

Lucas: Are you kidding? We can’t back down now.

Charlie freezes, turning to stare at him. Is he for real?

Charlie: What?

Lucas: We can’t just give up. That’s exactly what they want. We --

Charlie: [ holding up his hands ] I’m -- I’m sorry. Were you blacked out before when you were driving my car? Did you miss the part where we were literally being run off the road by a hulking, unmarked SUV? When we could’ve died?

Lucas: Okay, let’s not exaggerate…

Charlie: That’s not a green light, Lucas! That is a yield sign; it’s a major red light from the universe. When the world is trying to tell you something is a bad idea, like you might, I don’t know, die, that’s when you take the hint. When the forces in your way put you in literal danger [ pushing his hands out in front of himself ] you stop!

Lucas: No, that is exactly when you keep going!

He’s lost him. He’s officially lost him. Charlie stares at him, totally gobsmacked. He shakes his head frantically, like he might be able to shake off the insanity of what Lucas just said. It doesn’t work, so he hides his head in his hands instead while Lucas keeps talking.

Lucas: Don’t you get it, man? Don’t you see why they’re doing all this shit, why they’re sending threats trying to scare us off --

Charlie: Well, it’s working!

Lucas: [ ignoring that ] Because they’re scared, Charlie. They’re fucking scared. Whatever they’re up to, they know we’re onto them, and they’re desperate to get us off the trail. It’s like -- when I’m at the shelter, and we have feral animals brought in for rescue, they usually aren’t naturally violent. Most animals won’t go after you unless they feel threatened, and the worst thing you can do is back them into a corner. We’ve backed Graham and them into a corner, dude. That’s when they lash out -- that’s when they fight back.

Which means they’re close. They’re so close, right on the cusp of whatever this is, and if they’re working this hard to chase them off it has to be bigger than he thought.

Lucas: So if you want to back out, if you want to fuck off right when it matters, when they want you to, fine. That’s your choice. But I’m not backing down. I’m not giving up.

Seeing Lucas so fired up is compelling, or at least, it would be if the terror of being pursued wasn’t so fresh. Still, insane as he sounds, he makes a couple of points… Charlie can’t seem to process any of it at the moment. It’s all too much, and he’s decidedly less lowkey and way out of practice in the ways of Lucas James Friar.

For now, they need to focus on getting back to the city. Lucas pulls out his phone and starts marching into the trees, beckoning Charlie to follow. He’ll call Jack to come pick them up. Charlie sputters, looking back and forth between him and his abandoned sedan.

Charlie: What about my car?!

Oh, right. Lucas glances at it, then shrugs, trying to come off cool and collected. Not totally out of his depth like he feels, since one of them clearly has to be level-headed right now.

Lucas: We’ll come back for it. Once everything clears up. It’ll be fine here, I promise.

Charlie scoffs in disbelief, but based on his delivery Lucas is dead serious. And given whoever tailed them is now using Charlie’s car as their visual marker… yeah, might be wisest to ditch it for now.

Defeated, Charlie starts after Lucas, fear mercifully tempered by his utter shock.

As the opening piano note drops --

INT. USC - BING THEATRE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Can Do Better Than That” as performed by The Last Five Years Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Back in the world of the slightly more normal, Farkle takes center stage for opening night of The Last Five Years. Our taste of the production is delivered through his rendition of Cathy’s penultimate performance, an ode to utter devotion and lovesick optimism.

And much like the other Cathy numbers we’ve watched him perform thus far, he nails it. He captures the effusive excitement and breathless desire perfectly, stage presence at peak pitch. For how uneven his year has been thus far, and how he’s sometimes felt like a shadow of himself to those who know him best, all of that concern falls away when he gets to immerse in a performance like he is now.

It helps that he’s got people there to see him shine. Jordan is seated with his sophomore friends, watching with proud and smug nonchalance. Farkle’s classmates are in the front rows, evidently enjoying themselves; PROFESSOR WILHELM WEBER, the music professor, watches with a light, appreciative smile on his face. Maya’s beam is even brighter, nothing but undiluted pride at seeing her best friend show just how talented he really is.

Then, there’s Isa. Awkwardly seated next to Maya, stomaching it for the sake of not having to sit alone, but they’re hardly focused on that anyway. They’re completely transfixed by Farkle, captivated by the power of his performance, but also somewhat unprepared to see it again. It’s been so long since they experienced a good Farkle Minkus musical number, and they forgot how strong an impression he can make -- has always made, even back in the day when they despised each other.

If they’re honest with themselves, down under all the feelings they’ve worked so hard to bury, they know how passionate he gets when performing is part of what made them fall in love with him in the first place.

You and you and nothing but you No substitution will do Nothing but fresh, undiluted and pure Top of the line and totally mine!

And given what he’s singing about now, that effect is even more dangerous. Especially because somehow, through the stage lights, he manages to find them -- he sees Isa through the darkness, sitting next to Maya and there to see him. He sees them and it’s like he glows even brighter, the lovestruck grin on his face radiating like a spotlight.

Think of what's great about me and you Think of the bullshit we've both been through Think of what's past because we can do better

Isa manages to return his smile, not sure if he can actually see it or not. It doesn’t matter.

When he’s lit up like he is now, in his element, and smiling at them like that, there’s no chance of resisting.

We can do better than that!

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGHT

Nigel arrives back at the apartment, in better spirits than when he left it. Liezel and Ernesto greet him from the kitchen, where they’re cooking dinner, but they don’t notice anything different about him.

Reyna does though. She senses the change in his mood as he settles down onto the couch, turning her attention away from the television to get a better look. On screen, another one of Zachary’s films is playing on the classic movies channel, another one of the coming-of-age movies in the Dead Poets Society vein that he made before he got his big break.

Reyna: Glad you’re back. Did you have a nice time with Riley?

Nigel: Yeah. Yeah, it was really good.

Reyna: She knocked some sense into you?

Nigel scoffs a laugh, but hey, she’s kinda spot on! He clasps his hands together on his lap, knee bouncing absentmindedly. It’s not anxious though -- this is potential energy. Excitement. Renewed passion for what could be.

He doesn’t need to confirm. Reyna is wise enough to see the shift in his demeanor. There’s a reason Riley is her favorite. She goes back to watching her TV, a knowing smile lingering on her face.

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - NIGHT

The theatergoers have relocated to the fountain plaza outside the theater post curtain, milling about and waiting for the members of the production to emerge. Jordan is chatting idly with his peers, faced away from the doors and more engaged with their discussion of critiques.

Maya and Isa, on the other hand, are right by the steps, eagerly awaiting Farkle’s departure through the doors. The enthusiasm for him is enough to keep them from feeling self-conscious about their own issues, instead avidly discussing the production and how well he did.

Maya: I literally told him. I told him if he could just show these USC bitches how good he actually is, there’d be no question he belongs here. Surely none of them have any misguided opinions now.

Isa: No way. Especially as the only freshman in the cast.

Maya: And the star! His pseudo-agent, Turner, is coming to see the show next weekend, and I swear if he doesn’t sign him right then and there he is braindead.

Well, that’s not really how that works Maya, but love the spirit.

That high energy only jumps further when Farkle finally emerges. He pushes through the doors and scans the crowd, but it only takes him a second to find Isa and Maya. He grins wide and jogs down the steps two at a time to come meet them, Maya immediately tackling him with a hug. He catches her and spins them, Isa watching them with fond amusement.

When Maya meets the ground again, she takes his face in her manicured hands and squeezes his cheekbones affectionately.

Maya: Brilliant. You were brilliant! My beautiful, gangly leading man!

She gives him a peck on each cheek, which he accepts with a laugh. Then he turns to Isa, raising his eyebrows and offering a tentative smile.

Farkle: And you? What did you think, oh wise director? I’m sure you’ve got some scathing critiques up your sleeve.

Well, they might, if they could have focused on anything other than him and how hard their heart was pounding the entire show. Instead, they aim for coy, shrugging and producing something from behind their back rather than their sleeve.

A single flower. Not quite a bouquet, but it’s the thought that counts. And the true gift of approval comes with their words.

Isa: Not this time. No notes. Icarus has officially outgrown the need for a Dethroned Techie Queen.

Farkle’s smile grows softer, more delicate. He accepts the flower, twirling it in his fingers, before lifting his gaze to meet theirs again.

Farkle: [ re: their comment ] Not possible.

He will always need them, at least in his book. Isa returns his smile, uncharacteristically bashful, then doesn’t shy away when Farkle goes in for a hug. They tense up for a moment, but then returns it tightly, melting into the embrace. They almost forgot how long it’s been since they were able to be close to him.

The touch lasts not nearly enough. They break apart when they’re accosted by NATALIA and BUZZ, who come to offer their congratulations to Farkle. What a great performance! Isa takes the moment to pull themselves back together, managing to do so just as the attention turns back to them and Farkle introduces them to his peers.

Natalia: Oh, yeah, the best friend from New York.

Buzz: Ah, yes, the hardcore director. [ bowing slightly ] Respect. Please don’t eviscerate me with your opinionated hot takes.

So clearly Farkle has talked about them a bit -- and apparently they came off like a directorial bitch. Isa gives Farkle a side-eye, to which he innocently smiles. They might be more irritated if hearing “best friend from New York” didn’t make their chest feel so airy.

Finally, Jordan makes his way over to join them, as if it was him they were waiting for this whole time rather than Farkle. He greets Natalia and Buzz amicably then turns to his leading man, giving him a proud smile and presenting him with a bouquet for a job well done. It’s beautiful, expensive, and much more than one measly flower.

Farkle accepts it graciously, giddy at the prospect of being given flowers by an actual partner for an opening night performance. But he takes care not to bend Isa’s as he takes both into his arms, cradling them appreciatively as Jordan pulls him in for a kiss. Isa looks away, dipping their head down to the concrete.

Jordan: Excellent job. Electric as always.

Natalia: He was great, right?

Maya: Best there is! [ a beat ] No offense.

Buzz: Not that we should be surprised, he’s been popping off on stage since our first monologues.

Jordan: Naturally. Why do we think I chose him as my mentee? [ beaming at him ] All that raw talent, just had to be molded the right way. And Lord knows we put in the time for this role.

I’m sorry, “we?” Isa lifts their head in confusion, frowning. They must not have heard correctly… but no, Jordan continues on that same thread, basically taking credit for mentoring Farkle into the star performance he gave tonight.

Jordan: It was touch and go for a bit there, but we got him there eventually. [ brushing his hair from his forehead ] Just had to find that confidence, that’s all -- and stop the finger stretching.

Farkle laughs sheepishly, reflexively running a hand through his hair to adjust what Jordan was nitpicking at. But he doesn’t dispute Jordan’s take -- which feels insane to Isa, because if anyone tried to take credit for his own efforts at Adams Farkle probably would’ve committed arson. Yet here he is, giggling like a brainless ingenue and letting someone else set the narrative.

At least Isa isn’t alone in their discomfort. Based on a glance towards Maya, she’s equally unimpressed, glaring at Jordan but only holding her tongue because she doesn’t want to step on Farkle’s toes. Not tonight of all nights.

So they swallow it, Isa forcing a smile as Farkle glances at them again.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Charlie is in his pajamas -- a crewneck from a National Park and joggers -- but still awake, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to be drifting off any time soon. He’s set up shop on the couch and is sifting through all the evidence they’ve compiled in this sprawling conservative conspiracy, trying to make the pieces fit together. Trying to use those hours of Nancy Drew PC games he played with his sisters growing up to reveal the missing puzzle piece they can’t seem to find to tie everything together.

He breaks his concentration when the front door opens, Lucas stepping back into the apartment. They exchange uncertain eye contact, before Lucas offers an awkward smile.

Charlie isn’t one to give the cold shoulder, so he breaks the silence first.

Charlie: How did it go with Joe?

Lucas: About being late? Oh, he was fine. He’s kind of used to me at this point, he knows there’s like a 25% chance I won’t show up for a shift for one mid-life crisis or another. I just had to close, which is whatever, so. And once I started getting into the whole car chase thing he said he’d rather not know the details -- you know, for legal reasons -- so that was that.

Charlie: Can’t say I blame him.

Yeah… Lucas drops his jacket and keys on the kitchen counter, silence filling the room again. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at Charlie reading on the couch… he’s no good with this, the talking thing, but he knows he should say something. So he clears his throat, turning to face him.

Lucas: I’m sorry, by the way. [ a beat ] About your car.

Charlie: … it’s okay. Like you said, we’ll get it back. It’s just property.

Lucas, quickly: And the rest of it, too. You know, for… putting you in that situation. I know I wasn’t exactly -- I’m not great at being… comforting. And I shouldn’t have expected you to just go along with it and get over it. I forget people don’t like, do the same dumb shit I do all the time.

Charlie: This wasn’t really on you…

Lucas: I know you’re putting a lot on the line to help me. On like, multiple levels. I’ve already asked you to do a lot, way more than you’re comfortable with. I appreciate that. What you’re doing. And you’ve already been a huge help. Seriously.

Charlie absorbs that, glancing back down at the evidence spread out on the table.

Lucas: Anyway, I’m sorry. That this has gotten so crazy. You’re right, it’s more than you signed up for. And I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty by saying all that stuff. It’s a lot, and you have every right to back out if that’s what you want to do. No pressure. Like I said, you’ve already contributed plenty. I would totally get it if you wanted to bail.

The ball is completely in his court. Charlie contemplates for a moment, processing the apology… then he shrugs, going for lowkey and casual.

Charlie: I’ve already made it this far. Think it would be a bit of a let-down to back out now when we’re so close to figuring out the truth.

So he’s not quite so easily scared off after all. Lucas can’t help but smile, but he tempers it as best he can so that his amusement doesn’t come off belittling rather than fond. In any case, the offer to back out still stands, whenever Charlie wants or needs it. And he doesn’t need to keep himself up at night over this.

Lucas excuses himself to go shower, but Charlie stops him before he can go.

Charlie: Can I just ask… one question? Just one.

Not Lucas’s favorite conversation starter, but he figures he owes Charlie at least that much. He nods, leaning back against the counter.

Once he’s been given the permission, Charlie finds his question is harder to articulate than he expected. It’s almost too big for words.

Charlie: … How? [ trying to get the words together ] How do you not back down? I mean, I know you’re tougher than me and about a thousand times more resilient --

Lucas: I don’t know about that.

Charlie: But this just feels… how do you manage to keep pushing forward when it feels like every single force on Earth is telling you to stop?

Big questions indeed. Lucas thinks on it, making a face and chewing his lip while it rolls around in his head. Charlie waits patiently.

Lucas: I’m a jackass? That’s what a lot of people would probably say. Or I don’t know when to quit. [ quieter ] That’s what my dad would say, probably.

Lucas scoffs out a laugh, but it’s not all that funny. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, digging under the self-deprecation and dismissive assumptions to find what’s true.

Lucas: I guess it’s just like… someone should. Like, if this were just my thing, if it were some beef that just affected me, then it would be whatever. I’d deal. But all this… Yancy said, when he was trying to piss on me, that they’re doing real work at the board. That they’re making a difference. And even though he’s full of shit, I think he was right about that. I think that’s why. Because I don’t get how all the bureaucracy works, and I don’t care about all the nonsense they do, but… their influence matters. They really can change things -- for better or worse. Like when you said that shit to Dweezil about their agenda, that’s real. And Jack, I know how much he cares. I know how hard he works, the difference he can make. He can make a difference with other people, too. [ a beat ] Maybe he won’t win just from the votes, and that’s fine. That’s life. But if there’s something going on making it fucked, taking away that possibility before it even has a chance…

It’s bigger than him. It’s bigger than them. And that matters. That’s why it’s worth it. He may not be worth much, on his own, but the entire district? For years to come?

Lucas: I have to try. Maybe we won’t get anywhere; maybe all of this is destined to go sideways no matter what. But at least I did something. At least I can say I tried.

Most days, that’s all he can do.

It’s so antithetical to how Charlie was raised, the opposite instinct to protecting your own and not sticking your neck out for fear of losing it. But it resonates with him now. It resonates, and it paints his roommate in an even brighter light, illuminating shades to him he hasn’t gotten to see before.

Mostly, that he cares. Despite what his persona and reputation lead one to believe, Lucas cares a lot.

Lucas: Sorry, that probably made no sense. I don’t think I answered your question.

Charlie: No, no, you did. That was good enough. Thanks for trying.

Lucas offers him a shy smile, then bids him goodnight. Charlie glances over his shoulder to watch him disappear into his room, then turns back to the evidence sprawled in front of him. Maybe it’s really just a paper trail with no destination; maybe there’s no mystery to solve.

But he has to try. Charlie takes a deep breath and rolls up his sleeves, diving back in.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isa has gone home with Farkle, getting to see their apartment for the first time. They’ve already done the quick tour, so now they’re alone in his room while he goes to get drinks for them.

It’s surreal to be there after so many months of distance -- both literal and created by them. But it feels good, too. Really good. Even though it couldn’t be as cozy and familiar as his room in New York is to them, there’s still enough of his character here to make it feel a bit like home.

Though there’s some new shades too -- ones that don’t feel quite like him. Posters for movies they’d agreed in the past were overwrought (but clearly Jordan favorites); less of his nerdier possessions out on display where his cool boyfriend might see when he comes over. In fact, a little bit of poking around reveals a not-very-concealed box tucked in the corner beside his nightstand where he’s hidden some of those very things.

Looking at it hurts Isa’s heart a bit, because it’s so many of the things they love about him -- that make him Farkle. The business name plaque his dad gave him for Hanukkah junior year that was terrible at the time but now bizarrely treasured to Farkle even though he still doesn’t plan to go into business, and his signed playbill from the original run of Wicked that he stayed up 24 hours and watched obsessively on eBay to make sure he won the bidding for. Any photographs of him before senior year, with his scrappy vibes and bad haircuts and blazers or depression sweaters.

Their copy of Pride & Prejudice. Isa tries not to take it personally that it was relegated to the box. Rather, they try to convince themselves it’s a compliment of sorts -- surrounded by all the other items, it must be such a true essence of Farkle and stitched into his being if he felt it needed to be concealed from Jordan.

Isa almost reaches for it, to pull it out from the rubble and flip through it, but Farkle comes back before they can act. They quickly straighten up and act as though they weren’t just being nosy, giving him a smile and accepting the cream soda bottle he offers.

Farkle plops onto his bed and sits cross-legged, starting to carry on their conversation until he realizes Isa is still standing. What are they waiting for? He gives them an eyebrow raise, and they remember how to move, tenderly joining him on his bed. They have to remind themselves that it doesn’t feel nearly as dangerous and loaded to sit like this with him in his mind as it does to them nowadays.

When he prompts them to talk about what they think of the room, since they’re now seeing it, Isa offers compliments. Though they take the opportunity to note it could use a little more personality.

Farkle: Like I’m not enough of that alone?

Isa: No, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It needs more of you. Like, there’s not nearly enough feral mania and buzz cut memorabilia in here. Needs more blazer.

Farkle laughs, shaking his head. Although Isa was sort of telling the truth, Farkle takes it in stride, settling into a fond smile as he takes them in.

Farkle: It’s so cool that you’re here. I’m really glad you are.

Oh, like they haven’t had enough butterflies already tonight. Isa shyly returns the smile.

Isa: Same.

Now that they’re alone, Farkle declares he wants the real tea from Isa. When they give him a bewildered look -- laced with a hint of panic -- he clarifies that he’s talking about The Last Five Years. What did they really think?

Farkle: I know you, and I know you have opinions. You always have opinions.

Isa: Pfft, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m as agreeable as they come.

Farkle: Uh-huh. I’m just saying, your track record indicates you had to have had some thoughts. So come on, I wanna hear ‘em. You can be brutal, I can take it.

Isa: I wasn’t lying before. I really didn’t have any notes.

Farkle: Isa. Come on.

Isa: I’m serious. Not for you, at least. Your co-star could’ve been a little more emotive, but I’m not sure if that was part of the character or what. I mean, I get it though. That was something I always struggled with in roles too. Wasn’t nearly as fluid and believable as you.

Farkle: You’re totally playing me. You’re just inflating my ego.

Isa: No, I’m not. You know me, like you said. If I had feedback, believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate to give it. Rest assured on that front.

Well, except maybe in one area… Farkle laughs to himself, remarking that it’s so funny they’re suddenly so rosy about his performance. Jordan had so many notes on the whole thing, he may as well have redirected the entire thing himself. He figured Isa would be the same, since they also have such a strong critical eye.

Isa pauses, comfortable mood souring a bit. They think they should just keep holding their tongue, let the moment pass… it’ll pass.

But true to form, they open their mouth anyway.

Isa: Maybe Jordan is just wrong.

Farkle gives them a look.

Farkle: Yeah, right. But I appreciate the sentiment.

Isa: I mean it. Who said he was right about everything? You can be opinionated and have wrong opinions. Two directors can look at the same script and see two entirely different renditions -- that doesn’t mean one is inherently right.

Farkle: Well, sure, but…

Isa: And in this case, sorry, he’s wrong. I already know he’s wrong.

Farkle: [ with a frown ] How do you know that? You didn’t hear his notes. I’m sure he would love to chat with you about the director thing though sometime --

Isa: I don’t need to hear his notes. If he gave you any, if he thought you needed his direction, then he was wrong.

Farkle grows defensive.

Farkle: Hey, I asked for his direction a lot. If you thought my performance was so good, then you should give him some credit. He spent a lot of time with me to --

Isa: No. No, no, see, that’s what I can’t stand. That makes no fucking sense to me.

Farkle: [ surprised by the heat in their words ] What?

Isa: That I would give him credit for anything! Was he up there on stage singing Cathy’s songs like he was going to drop his heart out onto the stage? Was he the one who put in all the time, effort, and dedication to learning the part? Is he the one who always delivers like that, who is incapable of delivering a weak performance if there’s even a shred of emotion in it? No. That was you. You are the only person who is getting any of my praise for that performance.

Farkle: I get what you’re saying, but you’re not listening to me. He helped me rehearse --

Isa: Oh, I’ve been listening. I’ve been listening perfectly well. And what I heard was absolute bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s bullshit what he said to you tonight. This is not his victory, it’s yours. You are the artist, and you’re a powerhouse all on your own. You gave electric performances long before you met him, and I know you’ll always be giving them until you drop dead. That’s who you are, it’s in your bones. It has nothing to do with Jordan Nelson.

Isa sure is fired up about this… they get to their feet, unable to sit with it. Farkle stares, baffled by how worked up they are, as well as a bit confused on how to feel about it all. They don’t like what they’re saying about Jordan, yet at the same time, there’s a part of him that is touched to see them be so impassioned over this. To be standing up for him, even if he’s not convinced there’s a reason to be standing up.

Farkle: Why are you so upset?

Isa: Ugh, because this isn’t you! This is not how the Farkle Minkus I know would handle this. If anyone, anyone, took credit for all your talent and hard work back at Adams, you would’ve bitten their head off. And I’m not saying that’s reasonable, but at least it’s authentic. It’s real. Instead, he says things to you like how your raw talent just needed be molded by him and they got you there with his genius directorial guidance, when you were already there without him. And you just took it! You just stood there and smiled and let him say it.

Farkle: Hey. He’s my boyfriend. He’s allowed to be proud of me.

Isa: That’s not pride in you, Farkle! That’s pride in himself. He’s treating you like his muse, like that’s all you are, when you are so much more than that. You are multitudes more interesting than anything he considers his muse. Don’t you get that? How can you not see that?

It’s infuriating, honestly. Farkle frowns, getting to his feet so they’re not talking down to him anymore.

Farkle: You’ve got it wrong. You, and Zay, everyone is just -- you don’t get it, okay? You don’t know our relationship.

Isa: I know enough. I know you’re my best friend, and I care about you, and I don’t ever want to have to watch you sit there and take condescending criticism and backhanded fake praise from some prick that doesn’t deserve you.

Farkle, softer: Shut up.

Isa: No, no I’m not going to shut up. Because the real you, the one I love, is currently stuffed into a box by your bedside table because apparently that would be too worthy of criticism from the boyfriend who is oh so proud of you.

Farkle: The one you what?

Huh. That’s kind of a weird random part of that whole phrase to get stuck on.

Or is it… how much of this is truly about Jordan?

Still, Isa freezes the moment they come close to even breathing on that issue. They blink, playing dumb.

Isa: What?

Farkle: Who am I? What’s the real me, to you? Your best friend, who you…

Oh, the word really did slip out earlier, didn’t it… and yet, why is Farkle getting caught on it? They’re finally on even footing again. As friends. Best friends. He has a boyfriend, shitty or not. So why does the gleam in his blue eyes feel so dangerous?

Isa: I told you. You heard me. You’re my best friend, and I love you. Just like you’ve told me a hundred times.

Farkle: Is that all? Is that really all you want to say? You keep saying you want the real me, that you seem to know better than anyone else. Well, I want the real Isa. I want it real.

Why is he looking at them like that, like he knows there’s something more to say -- like he wants there to be more?

Farkle: What do you need to say to me, Isa?

They’re standing on the precipice of something. Isa can feel it. They don’t understand it, and Farkle doesn’t exactly either, but they both know they’re at the cliff’s edge. One wrong step… or right step… and how could they possibly know the difference?

There’s something between them that they know goes beyond distance and bad boyfriends. There’s something that has been haunting their friendship much longer, growing in the cracks and consuming them like ivy. Something they can’t name, but they can feel -- and if they don’t vocalize it, it may just suffocate them.

But Isa can’t. It doesn’t feel real. This can’t be real. They’re in their head, reading into nothing. They just got Farkle back, and they aren’t going to ruin that so soon again. It was stupid to bring up Jordan.

They should have just kept their mouth shut, like they are right now.

Isa: I… [ a beat ] I should go.

They step past Farkle and head for the door, marching one foot in front of the other because it’s the only thing they can process at the moment.

Farkle doesn’t stop them, struggling to process any of what just happened in the last five minutes either. Not sure what came over them, when the debate became about something other than Jordan. Not sure what he wanted them to say, even though he felt so sure there was more.

Even so, Isa stops in the doorway. They can’t walk away without making at least this much clear -- it’s the only opinion they have that actually matters.

Isa: You were incredible tonight, Farkle. And that was all you. You’re not somebody’s muse; you’re your own celestial force.

They leave before Farkle has the chance to respond, escaping while they still can.

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

The sun is barely peeking through the blinds, the clock on the nightstand reading just past 7AM. Lucas is sleeping pretty soundly -- that is, until…

Charlie, off-screen: Lucas! Lucas, get up!

Lucas starts to stir, still a light sleeper, but it takes him a moment. A moment too long, apparently -- Charlie appears in his room seconds later, bursting through the door without knocking. He stumbles to his knees at his bed, jostling Lucas’s shoulder.

Charlie: Wake up! Wake up, mothertrucker, wake up!

Okay, now he’s awake. Lucas sits up, groggy, but that shakes off pretty fast when he sees Charlie literally at his bedside. He stares at him over his shoulder, clearly wondering why the fuck he’s in his room, let alone so early in the morning.

Not to mention, Charlie looks unhinged. He clearly hasn’t slept, still in his pajamas from the night before. His hair is disheveled and unbrushed, like he’s been running his hands through it, and he’s wearing his clunky spare glasses that he only uses when his contacts aren’t in. That, paired with the crazed look in his eyes, is quite the combination.

Lucas: What? What, what are you doing? What’s going on?

Charlie places his hands declaratively on Lucas’s shoulder again for emphasis, eyes wide and twinkling.

Charlie: I figured it out.

With that, he bolts back to his feet, heading back out to the living area and assuming Lucas will follow. And he’s right -- Lucas kicks off the blankets and rolls out of bed, chasing him through the doorway.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Lucas skids to a stop in the living area and nearly trips over the arm of the couch, righting himself just in time to sidle up next to Charlie. He pulls up the letter again, the one that started this whole thing, holding it up and pointing to the acronym.

Charlie: My eyes started to hurt after looking through all the email transcripts from Dweezil, so I changed tracks. I doubled back to this again, because something was still nagging at me, and --

Lucas: [ getting a good look at him ] … did you sleep at all last night?

Charlie stares at him, lost. Is he seriously asking him that right now?

Charlie: That’s not important!

Lucas holds a hand up in light surrender, not sure if he should be scared or impressed. Putting his own insomnia to shame… Charlie continues, jabbing the acronym for emphasis.

Charlie: It was nagging at me because I recognized it. I’ve seen this foundation before.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - FLASHBACK - DAY

We flashback briefly to when Charlie found that letter for his mom in the mail in 407, the one thanking her for her donation. On the envelope, we see that name again -- “The Conservative Enrichment and Advancement Charitable Foundation.”

CEACF.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Charlie flips the letter over, pointing instead to Brennan’s name.

Charlie: My mom donated to this foundation. That’s not out of the ordinary, she’s always donating to different charities, especially ones that are popular in my church. And based on the website, like you saw, there’s nothing questionable about it. It just seems like it covers all the basic stuff -- underprivileged communities, rehabilitation, food banks. My mom wouldn’t think twice. [ tapping the signature ] Especially if someone like Brennan was recommending it.

Lucas: Okay. But Brennan wasn’t on the website.

Charlie: And he didn’t sign the letter to my mom, either. Because officially, he’s not part of this foundation. He never said he was, when I met with him. He just talked about his money management. And that makes sense, actually, because there’s nothing to be a part of.

Lucas: What? What do you mean?

Charlie: This foundation isn’t real. It doesn’t actually exist. It’s a shell company.

Holy shit. Charlie starts scrambling through the papers on the tabletop, retrieving a printout of an email exchange Dweezil hacked. He’s highlighted some lines in a correspondence between Yancy, Brennan, and some other entities, mentioning the foundation by its acronym but never actually discussing its activities. They only discuss the money flow involved.

Charlie: I confirmed this by digging into the archives of this charity. Yes, it has a website, and yes, it’s listed on official records and charity trackers as a legal organization. But it’s far from the top of the list on most of the top charity recommendation websites -- it’s not even listed on a couple of them. It took me sixteen pages of search results to find even a mention of it on Charity Navigator.

And there’s basically no actual documentation of it doing charitable works anywhere. Not on public record, at least, where all reputable charities can be found. There are some fluff pieces in conservative media outlets -- likely not fact-checked and paid to be published -- and of course, dummy social media posts, but nothing concrete. Whoever answered the phone for Lucas and put him through those hoops to talk to higher-ups probably just works for Brennan, or Yancy, or anyone in the chain.

Lucas: So how the hell are people like your mom donating to it?

Charlie: First of all, this is America. Do you know anyone who fact-checks? Particularly when the advice is coming from within your communities. This basically feels like a… conservative multi-level marketing scheme. Brennan puts a word out, one member of a church community recommends it to another, and before you know it, word of mouth has done all the marketing for you.

Especially in our digital age where it’s so easy to make things look legit. Lucas shakes his head.

Charlie: But I asked myself the same question. Well, almost the same. I kept thinking about my mom, and what she would think if she knew her money wasn’t going where she thought. Which begs the question -- where is it going? We already know Brennan is moving money around, an even easier task with a shell company like this.

Lucas: And we know some of it is going to Connelly’s campaign.

Charlie: Yes, but not all of it. In fact, looking back at the books, not nearly as much as we thought. Yes, they’ve been directing a lot of the money at the end here to the campaign against Jack, but it wasn’t always that stacked. They’ve been raking in money this whole time, and it wasn’t going to Connelly. Not even close.

Lucas: So where?

Charlie: Exactly. Where? Turns out, the emails had the answers.

Charlie starts digging through the pile again, a man on a mission.

Charlie: As you know, I like to read. And if there’s one thing I really like doing, it’s annotating. When you pick out certain motifs, or metaphors, and suddenly you see them popping up everywhere. Well, that happened here too. CEACF isn’t the only way they refer to the shell.

In fact, they have a handful of code names for it, innocuously disguised in other correspondence that makes them all seem unrelated. But they are, and Charlie’s literary eye for picking out patterns combined with lack of sleep started to notice. He starts handing printouts to Lucas, all with green highlights scattered across the lines. Any time he started seeing the same terms -- code names -- come up again, he highlighted them. Again. And again. And once you start to read the emails with decoder goggles on, understanding what they’re actually saying…

Charlie: It’s not going to Connelly. Read this one. The one to Yancy.

Lucas: [ reading off the printout ] “The rearrangement of the budget this year yielded positive feedback from our constituents, particularly the reduction of allocation to the libraries and specific prohibition of obtaining copies of certain materials” --

Charlie: Not true, by the way. Whatever constituents he’s referring to, it’s not a majority of Manhattan. People were pissed about that budget realignment.

Because Yancy doesn’t mean we the people, the constituents -- he means whoever is funding the money Brennan is moving around into PACs. But that’s not the kicker…

Lucas: [ still reading ] “In accordance with our arrangement, we should see a donation from the primary parties” --

Charlie: Code name.

Lucas: “Arrive in our accounts shortly. If we deliver on the arts pullback, I’m sure support will be even more effusive.”

Lucas reaches the end, where he stops cold on who signed the email.

Jefferson D. Graham.

Charlie, breathless: It’s Graham. All that extra money? It’s going to Graham. And Yancy.

Lucas: Holy fuck.

Charlie: They can get Connelly on the board if they want, but it’ll just be icing on the cake. They’ve already bought two board members.

It’s Corruption 101. They’ve been taking money under the table this entire time from private donors to enact certain policy at the board level. He cross-referenced it to the bookkeeping they have, and it checks out. And while campaign finance laws may be bleak, taking bribes in any elected position is an obvious, glaring no-no. Not to mention the layer of misleading donors.

Holy. Shit.

Lucas stares for a long moment, all of it coming together in his head. He reaches out and smacks Charlie’s shoulder, in a half-semblance of a congratulatory gesture mixed with shock.

Lucas: Charlie, you are a fucking genius!

Charlie manages half a grin, partially just from sheer adrenaline.

Charlie: Thanks. But I only solved half the equation. What the hell are we going to do about it?

Good, good question. Sounds like the best time to call for back-up --

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - LATER - DAY

They’ve brought Riley into the fold, updating her on everything. Based on how she’s pacing, she’s absolutely livid.

Riley: I knew it. I knew there was something suss going on with their funding!

Lucas: Sharpest instincts in Manhattan.

Riley: And of course dark money is all part of it. That’s what makes this so damn easy for them. Of fucking course. I swear, I swear, if I ever get my hands on fucking Citizens United --

She clenches her fists in the air, as if she’s going to strangle something. Lucas doesn’t get exactly what she’s talking about with the whole campaign finance law specifics, but the passion? Kinda hot.

But right now, he has to stay focused. Because now the stakes are real.

Lucas: Can we get them for this? I mean, I feel like we’re kind of fucked considering we stole half this evidence.

Riley: Yeah. Fuck. And to be honest, when it comes to the dark money part, I don’t think we could even make a case. It’s not technically illegal.

Lucas: Well, the bribes and shell company sure as hell are.

Riley: Yes. But like you said, we don’t technically have a leg to stand on there. If we just leak this stuff, that’s putting you all in danger of culpability. No one wants that. Not Jack, and especially not me.

Lucas: So, what, that’s it? We nab them, but we forfeit anyway? Game over?

Charlie: No. No, I don’t think so.

Lucas looks to him, surprised he’s the one to push back. But push back he does, still energized and now as impassioned as the two of them.

Charlie: You’re right, we can’t legally go after them. We can’t David and Goliath this situation and knock them out with a slingshot, it’s just not realistic. But we can take it one step at a time.

Riley: I’m listening.

Charlie: Starting with Connelly. All of this started because of the election. They want another puppet on their side of the bench. That’s clear. But the public doesn’t know that. To them, it’s policy and politics as normal. I’m thinking about my mom, and all her friends. Do they want the same objectives achieved that Graham and them stand for? Yes, probably, I’m not denying that. But they’re not cutthroat politicians. They’re ordinary people. They didn’t agree to this.

And if most of them are anything like his mom, then they care about how things look. Graham and Brennan might not, so long as it gets things done, but they have the privilege right now of doing it behind velvet curtains like the Wizard of Oz. He knows for a fact if his mom knew this is where her money was going, if she could be tied to obvious corruption, it would give her pause. It would make her feel humiliated. And image is everything to her.

Charlie: If she knew, if she had the opportunity to choose with all the facts on the table, I think she would seriously hesitate to vote for Connelly even if she agrees with his policies. Would she ever vote for Jack? No. But she could be swayed to sit this out. She would rather not vote. And it’s like you said --

Lucas: [ looking to Riley ] All that matters is turnout.

Bingo. It’s not about getting everyone to suddenly change their mind about the politics, or get Yancy and Graham thrown behind bars. It was never about that. But they can change public perception with just a shred of the truth. If they can get enough people feeling disillusioned with the corruption to not vote, then that helps Jack just as much.

Riley: You’re right. That’s completely right.

Lucas: Great. Just one problem -- how are we going to get this out there? Again, we can’t leak these documents. I could go start telling anyone I wanted about this, but who is going to believe me? I’m a nobody.

Riley: Don’t say that.

Lucas: In this circumstance, it’s true. I’m a nobody, with a semi-public grievance against Graham at that. No one is going to buy it.

Charlie: True. Especially not my mom and her crowd. She already thinks you’re the antichrist.

Lucas: Cool. Nice.

But he has a point. Them going on a truth-telling campaign isn’t going to matter much, particularly in today’s climate where “truth” is becoming increasingly subjective anyway. If they want this to hit, if they want this to get out in any way that matters, it has to come from the source.

They have to hear it from the man himself.

EXT. THE GETTY MUSEUM - DAY

The sun is starting to set as Farkle and Jordan exit the Getty Museum, walking along the outdoor courtyard as the breathtaking view paints the scenery behind them. Jordan is going on enthusiastically about whatever new exhibit they just went to see, Farkle nodding along with a smile.

However, this date has definitely been a Jordan-centric experience. Not that Farkle can’t appreciate the Getty, but in all honesty, it isn’t what he was expecting… just based on the events of the week. He tries to find a casual way to dig for a hint as to what might -- or might not -- be coming next, stuffing his hands in his pockets and asking if they’ve got anything else planned for the evening.

Farkle: Not that I’m not having a great time. I always do with you.

Jordan: Aw. So sweet.

Farkle: It’s just… you know, with the shows going on, and trying to keep up with my classes, I have to be more conscious of my time. Can’t stay out too late, and all that. So… if we don’t have anything else major going on…

Jordan gives him a look, tilting his head.

Jordan: You think that’s all I’ve got in store? Babe, it’s like we haven’t been dating for months. [ knowingly ] The night is just getting started.

Now we’re talking. Exactly as Farkle suspected. The sparkle in his eyes returns, along with a lovesick grin. Lead the way, Jordan…

INT. CLARIBEL’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Wherever Jordan is planning to take Farkle, he is guaranteed not going to have as good vibes as Jade’s crew. She’s lightly pregaming with her coworkers at Claribel’s apartment, which is trendy, modern, and effortlessly chill. It feels lived in, too, though -- a sign of authentic cool, rather than false Hollywood sheen.

Jade is appreciating that as she sips her wine, taking in the photographs Claribel has strung up along the walls by her TV. A gaggle of friends, just like Jade might put up of the techies. Behind her, Carlos and Waverly chatter loudly while they take shots.

Claribel comes over to join Jade by the photos, asking what she thinks of the place.

Claribel: It’s honestly way messier than I’d like -- my girlfriend was here earlier in the week, so I was super lazy about tidying up. I don’t have to impress those guys, but I would’ve liked to hold up the facade a little longer for the newbie.

Jade: Oh, gosh, no. Please. It’s amazing. A lot cozier than the AirBnB situation I’ve got going on right now.

Claribel: Girl, you better get out of that fast. That has to be costing you a fortune, and I know our salaries aren’t that chic.

Jade: Trust me, it’s on the agenda. My parents are just helping until I can… settle. With everything else.

And so far, so good. But seriously, she digs her space. It’s welcoming, and reminds her a bit of home. Not in the style, but…

Jade: It’s really well decorated. Like, coordinated and stuff. I just keep thinking my friend Asher would love it -- he wants to be an interior designer.

Claribel: That’s sick. I wish I had more creative friends. I mean, I love them -- [ nodding to the photos ] don’t get me wrong. But I love a lot of athletes and computer science majors.

But hey, that’s what the work friends are for. Speaking of.

Carlos: Hey, ladies! Are we rolling out or what? I’m ready to boogie.

Waverly: Ugh. Bitch. Don’t ever say that, you sound so lame.

Carlos: Get down and boogie oogie oogie.

Carlos does a little twerk and drop as he says it, causing all of them to laugh. Claribel gives Jade an eyebrow raise. Ready?

As she’ll ever be. Jade smiles, clinking her wine glass against Claribel’s.

INT/EXT. LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

Thus, a quick montage allows the sunset to darken to night as Jade explores the local scene with her coworkers. The mood is good, the spots they pick are class, and all of it is really allowing Jade to loosen up.

It feels much more organic than her nights out with Anya -- this time, she’s an equal.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST ROOM - NIGHT

Isa is decidedly not sharing that same zest for life right now. They slump down in the small chair at the writing desk with a pointed sigh, hiding their head in their hands.

They can’t get things right with Zachary. They can’t get things right with Farkle. Everything always feels a hair trigger away from blowing to smithereens, which is basically how their entire life has been so far. What are they good for, seriously?

Isa grabs their pen and a fresh sheet of paper, starting a new letter to Dylan to see if that will help dump some of the chaos from their brain. They don’t get very far though, as they really only seem to have one thought playing on repeat.

Dear Dylan,

AM I CAPABLE OF NOT FUCKING UP ANYTHING?!

Yeah, not quite enough there to justify paying the postage. Isa groans even louder, taking the paper and ripping it up. Then again, and again, just for good measure. Then they let the pieces scatter to the floor.

Okay, making the guest room messy isn’t going to help their prospects. A bit guilty, Isa drops down to their knees and starts gathering the little pieces of paper. Ruby is the only one who doesn’t seem to have fair reason to disdain them at the moment, so they should do their best to keep it that way.

They’re distracted when their phone buzzes on the desktop, especially when it keeps ringing longer than just a text. Someone is calling. They quickly toss the paper scraps in the trash and reach for the phone.

It’s not Farkle, like they were secretly hoping, but who it actually is is still interesting enough. Lucas lights up their phone, the photo they have set as his contact image filling the screen -- a darkened one in the booth that they took in sophomore year where he’s giving them the middle finger.

Lucas wouldn’t call unless he had good reason (he barely texts as it is), so the curiosity is enough to get them to pick up.

Isa: Hello?

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

The scene intercuts with Lucas in his room as they converse, remaining evidence spread out on his bed. In the background, Charlie and Riley can be heard chatting lightly from the living area.

Lucas: Hey. Thanks for answering, didn’t mean to call without warning.

Isa: It’s all good.

Lucas: What’s up? How’s it going with… the family?

Isa shrugs, wordlessly gesturing to themselves for a few seconds while they search for what to say.

Isa: It’s going how most things go for me.

Lucas: That doesn’t sound good. You know you, right?

Isa: Fuck you. Anyway, we’re not talking about me. I’m guessing you called for a reason?

That he did. Lucas cuts to it, briefly explaining everything that has gone on with the school board mystery. He doesn’t want to get all into it, but basically, they think they’ve got most of what they need to put the pieces together. It’s just getting the board members cornered enough to confess that presents problems.

Isa: Wow. I leave for a week, and suddenly you’re the lead of Mission Impossible.

Lucas: Is that a movie? I’m guessing it’s a movie.

Isa: You fucking kill me. Yes, it’s a movie.

That’s kind of exactly why Lucas called them. He and Charlie are stumped about how to pull this off, and he thought Isa might have some bright ideas. Both because they have a creative cultural knowledge to pull from that he doesn’t, but also because he knows they’re smarter than he is. Their brains think differently. If he’s missing an obvious approach, he needs their perspective to light the way.

In this case, he made the right call. Isa chews on it for a moment, squinting… and then suddenly, they make themselves laugh.

Lucas: I don’t like the sound of that.

Isa: Hey, my laugh is adorable. You should be so blessed.

Lucas: I just think it’s not gonna bode well for me if you’re giggling like that.

Isa: No, it’s not that it’s funny. It’s just… have you ever heard of Big Fat Liar?

INT. TRENDY L.A. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Farkle and Jordan have sat down for a late evening meal, the sort of place that’s reservation only -- and based on his discussion about it, we quickly assess that it is one of Jordan’s favorite spots. Farkle nods along eagerly, liking the restaurant purely because of how happy it makes Jordan.

Once the waiter brings them the specials menus and leaves to give them a few minutes to decide, Jordan makes a show of lowering his menu to get Farkle’s attention.

Jordan: Okay, now the charade is up. I can’t withhold the suspense much longer. In case you didn’t already guess, there’s a reason I wanted to come here tonight specifically. Bit of a surprise.

He’s got Farkle on the hook. His eyes twinkle, doing his best to hold back his excitement.

Farkle: Yes? Go on…

Jordan: Minkus. Do you realize what today is?

He sure thinks he does. Farkle chews his lip, trying to bite back his premature smile. He knew it. He knew Jordan had something up his sleeve worth waiting for.

But what Jordan does next is bewilderingly unexpected. He reaches for the menu again and spins it around to face Farkle, flipping it open on the table between them. He points to a menu item at the top with triumph. Farkle blinks at it, uncertain smile still on his lips.

Jordan: Read the top line there. Have you seen that dish offered before?

Farkle pauses, like a pop quiz he didn’t study for. He ventures a guess, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm.

Farkle: No?

Jordan: Exactly. Damn right you didn’t. Because it’s brand new, a new addition from chef Henrie himself. Exclusive debut, and we’re here tonight to experience it. It took so much haggling to get this reservation, you have no idea.

Ah. Well, that’s cool… I guess... but clearly not what Farkle was anticipating. It’s nice that Jordan thought to include him in this opportunity; maybe that’s a gift enough in its own right. And Jordan did say the night was just getting started, not to mention he always likes to keep Farkle hanging. Tease him a bit. It’s part of what makes them so great.

Patience. He does well to hide his disappointment, keeping the smile on for Jordan’s sake, but he can’t totally rid the shine of it from his eyes.

INT. NOHO HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT

Jade and her crew have arrived at their last stop of the night, the house party she told Maya about earlier in the week. It seems like a good time so far -- lower key than some industry ragers, mostly populated by assistants and support staff who are all getting through it together.

Claribel and Jade are mingling with one of Claribel’s friends, who knows the host, when Waverly approaches. Despite the content of her words, her delivery is still impressively monotone.

Waverly: Carlos is on his Jayden bullshit again.

Based on Claribel’s expression, this isn’t a good thing. They glance over Waverly’s shoulder, when Carlos is on his way out to the backyard. He’s tear-stained but insisting to everyone loudly that he’s fine.

Carlos: It’s not like I ruined my life by breaking up with a present-day Adonis. Okay? Like, I’m fine. I’m fine.

Claribel sighs.

Jade: Is he okay?

Claribel: Yeah, yeah. I mean, no, but yes. He’s fine. He has this whole dramatic love saga going on with his ex, Jayden --

Waverly: It’s messy af.

Claribel: When he drinks a little too much tequila he can be a bit of a basket case. I’ll fill you in on the deets later.

Waverly: No need. Carlos will if you just ask. Try it at lunch on Monday.

Claribel: Anyway, we should go check on him. [ to Jade ] But hey, have fun, okay? We’ll reel him in and then I’ll loop back.

Jade: Are you sure you don’t want help?

Claribel: No worries, we’ve got it. Mix, mingle! Enjoy the nightlife!

Mixing and mingling is asking a lot of an introvert, but when in Rome… Waverly and Claribel follow Carlos out into the backyard. Claribel’s friend gets roped into another conversation with a fellow partygoer, telling Jade it was nice to meet her before she gets yanked away.

Other Friend: Oh, if you haven’t tried the food yet, be sure to pig out! Darryl always has the best munchies. The brownies are out of this fucking world.

They descend into tipsy laughter as they disappear into the crowd, leaving Jade on her own. For a moment, she awkwardly stands there, not sure what to do with herself.

A snack doesn’t sound like a bad idea, especially since the spread is right there in front of her and a perfect distraction. Jade clears her throat and tries to look chill and unbothered as she scans the offerings. It’s kind of overwhelming, all the options…

But those cosmic brownies do look good. Homemade and everything. If it was the only thing she got a recommendation for, then hey, shouldn’t she take that tip?

When in Rome. Jade confidently takes one of the brownies into a napkin and then takes a bite. Based on her expression, yeah, they are pretty damn good -- save for the slightly strange aftertaste.

Everything is different on the west coast, eh? She shrugs and takes another bite.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

With Isa’s suggestion under his belt, Lucas is convening with Charlie and Riley again to try and work out how they’re going to make their plan work. Based on how she’s dressed in one of Lucas’s sweatshirts and doesn’t appear to be on her way out, Riley is ready to stay the night to get this figured out.

Which is good, because she’s a helpful resource to have in regards to how to mouse-trap Graham legally. As she reiterates, they’re confronting a similar issue that they had when dealing with Brandon last year. They can’t tape Graham in a one-on-one conversation without his consent.

Charlie: So it has to be public.

Riley: Well, in public, yes. I don’t think he’s going to confess to anything in the middle of Time Square, but we can find a middle ground that’s inconspicuous.

Lucas: And I can’t be the one catching him on candid camera.

Riley: Wow, I didn’t know that was even in your vocabulary.

Lucas: Dylan said it once.

But yes, Lucas is right. He can’t be recording Graham, going into it knowing what he knows. But if someone else were around who just happened to hear… someone who has the ability to follow up in ways that matter…

Riley: I have some friends at NYU in the journalism school, so I may be able to get some assist from them. It’s not a major media outlet, but you’d be surprised how big a shitstorm angry college students can make with social media and self-righteous indignation. I think the bigger key will be getting Graham to say anything worth hearing, especially if you’re not in private.

Lucas: I’m not worried. I have a knack for pissing people off so bad they just can’t help themselves.

Charlie: I’m really glad you’re the one doing this part.

Lucas: But even so, I don’t know if a bunch of journalism students is going to be enough. If this is going to carry at all, it has to have reach. Sure, a TikTok might get some Gen Z fired up, but that’s not going to matter to their parents or grandparents who vote.

Charlie: Or don’t vote.

Riley, reluctant: I guess that’s true. But it’s the best I’ve got. It’s not like we have an in at NBC News.

Actually… Charlie frowns to himself, thinking hard. Lucas catches the shift in his expression.

Lucas: What are you thinking? You’re thinking something.

Charlie: Nothing, I just… this might be a long shot, and I don’t know if they’ll go for it. Especially just on our word. But… [ meeting his eyes ] I might have an idea.

Now we’re talking. Lucas raises his eyebrows, inviting him to go on.

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

Maya is alone in her room, putting the finishing touches on wrapping a gift. She’s clearly put a lot of effort into it.

Something she seems a bit bitter about. She ties the last bow and then huffs begrudgingly, slouching back against her headboard. She glances out the window, looking at the world of Los Angeles passing a night out without her.

A world she should be exploring with her best friend. Her best friend who is too busy spending all his time with a boyfriend who doesn’t value him. Her best friend that somehow, despite her starshine, has become her only friend.

Maybe that’s partially for lack of trying. Maya glances at her phone, pulling it towards her and opening her message thread. She looks at the latest text from Jade, sending her the address of the party a couple days ago. In case she did decide she had enough time to roll up.

Fuck this all by myself routine. Maya gets to her feet, grabbing her makeup bag off the vanity and heading towards the bathroom.

INT. NOHO HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT

Meanwhile, things are getting… interesting for Jade. Whatever that brownie was made of, it must have been magic, because she is more relaxed than ever. Relaxed, and a little lightheaded… and is the room a little hazy?

It’s sure starting to look like it, at least to us. The room starts to take on a dreamy, majestic quality, almost like an out-of-body experience. Jade isn’t bothered by it, but she can definitely tell that something isn’t quite normal… and that only becomes more apparent when she hears a familiar voice.

Dave, off-screen: Whoa. This party is more colorful than when they shut off the electricity for a week and we had to light the apartment with a portable disco ball.

Jade blinks, whipping around. Her eyes go wide.

Jade: Dave?

Yes! Well… sort of. DAVE WILLIAMS isn’t actually there, but some apparition of him is -- an animated version of him has been superimposed onto the scene, recreated similar to an amalgamation of these styles. Jade blinks multiple times, rubbing her eyes.

Jade: What are you doing here?

Dave: Where?

What? Jade shakes her head, confused, but before she can respond, she’s interrupted.

Asher: What are we doing here? What are you doing here?!

Jade jumps, startled, as another animated apparition appears. An auburn little robin has perched on her shoulder, one with a very unique and noticeable coif.

Jade: Asher?!

Asher: Don’t look at me like that. Why are you looking at me like that? You know, I --

Bird Asher pauses, then glances down at himself -- full avian glory. He lifts his little bird head and gives Jade a glare, propping his wings indignantly on his little bird hips.

Asher: Really?

Don’t get mad, Asher, it’s her subconscious! Not her! Jade is distracted again when she hears DYLAN ORLANDO’s familiar laughter. When she turns around again, he’s appeared in animated form along with NATE MARTINEZ and JEFF MONROE.

Dylan: Yo, this is lit! Someone put on some Kesha!

Things are getting even weirder, as pieces of the scenery also start to become cartoonized. It’s a fun, weird intersection of reality and animated imagination. Jade presses her palms to her eyes.

Jeff: Nope, sorry pal. We aren’t going anywhere.

Dylan: Yeah, don’t wig out on us. You’re the one who brought us here!

Jeff: Not that you need us. You’re clearly doing the new socializing thing really well.

Dave: Yeah. We’re proud of you.

Jade: Uh… thanks. But… how are you here?

Dylan: Are any of us really here? Or not here?

Nate: [ with a bark of a laugh ] For real? [ cupping his mouth ] You’re high as fuck, Jade!

Whoa, whoa, whoa. What?! Jade shakes her head frantically.

Jade: What? No I’m not!

Jeff: Girl. Be serious.

Jade: I’m not! I didn’t even -- I might be a little tipsy, sure, but I didn’t smoke anything.

Nate: You know better than that. I know you do. How was that brownie, babe? Pretty dope?

Jade blinks… and then it hits her. Oh Neptune.

Jade: Fuck.

Asher: YOU ATE AN EDIBLE?

Jade: Not on purpose!

Jeff: Mm mm mm mm mm.

Asher: HOW DID YOU NOT ASK FIRST? GOD, JADE, DIDN’T THEY TEACH YOU ANYTHING IN HEALTH CLASS?

Dylan: At Adams? Ha ha ha, please!

Nate: I love L.A. Jade. This is fucking incredible.

Asher: WHAT WAS IT LACED WITH? OH MY GOD, JADE, ARE YOU GONNA DIE --

Jade: COULD YOU CHILL, PLEASE?

Jade shrugs her shoulder aggressively, sending Bird Asher careening off balance. He rolls through the air towards the ground, then explodes animation style into a puff of feathers, before emerging into a full-sized human animation of ASHER GARCIA. He finishes the collapse with a somersault, dazed as Dylan comes over and pulls him back onto his feet.

Nate: Bro, chill. She’s not gonna die.

Jade: Thank you. But uh -- what -- what am I supposed to do?

Nate: What are you gonna do? Dwayne Jade, you’re high, and you’re bending the laws of reality and physics as we speak.

It’s true. When we see Jade again, now she too has been turned into an animated rendition of herself. The scenery around them is still realistic, but all of the techies are full-on two-dimensional.

Nate: So what are you gonna do?

Dylan jumps over to join her, jostling her shoulders excitedly.

Dylan: Whatever the fuck you want!

Woo, hell yeah! Let’s fucking party!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Other Side” as performed by SZA & Justin Timberlake || Performed by AAA Alumni Techies

With an absolutely effortless bop from the animated film realm, the techie lads pull Jade into leaning full into her inebriated glory. Dylan takes the first line of vocals, and they pass it around from there, pulling other partygoers into the dance as they go. Every time they touch someone, they become animated too, further blurring the lines between imagination and reality.

On the groovy chorus, the choreography always takes on the same line dance quality, all of the animated folks doing the same moves in sync at the center of the room. Like a high, magical electric slide kind of vibe. Over the course of the number, other characters from Jade’s life also populate the animated scene -- Isa, Lucas, Nigel, and Riley, to name a few.

However, Jade doesn’t sing, at least until the second chorus. As they’re rolling into it, the lads encourage her to join in.

Jade: Are you kidding? I can’t sing. My voice is terrible.

Nate: Bitch, this isn’t real! You can sound like whoever you want!

Jade: Oh yeah… shit, you right!

And thus, Jade takes the vocal lead on the next chorus, sounding an awful lot like Maya (because, yes, she borrowed her vocals). And frankly, it is fucking iconic!

Along with the group choreography, the performance incorporates other psychedelic tropes and qualities of the screwball comedy genre -- bizarre camera angles, occasional snippets of slow and fast motion, moments where their bodies stretch and bend in ways they only can because they’re animated.

On the bridge, the techie tots mimic the famous circle camera technique from That 70’s Show while they harmonize. Even Dave gets a little solo, only much like Jade, his voice is borrowed -- in this case, he sounds an awful lot like Farkle.

Then we launch into one final energized rendition of the chorus, Jade front and center as she leads the animated line dance. This show has officially lost the plot, but damn, are we having a blast!

On the last line of the outro, all of the techies crowd around the camera and sing it in harmony, before the angle spins and crashes into the ground, sending everything to black.

Break 2.

INT. NOHO HOUSE PARTY - MOMENTS LATER - NIGHT

Maya finally makes her grand entrance, looking much more glamorous than she did in her apartment. She’s serving diva and has found a good excuse to dig out Valerie’s faux fur coat again, so suffice to say she looks great. Fitting, too, as she suspects she’ll be simply accosted by new fans when she arrives.

Not quite. Her arrival goes basically unnoticed, save for a couple flirtatious glances from guys sharing a joint by the door. Not the attention she was hoping for. She may be on the map musically speaking, but she has a long way to go before she’s an immediate jaw-dropper.

Shaking off the flop with a flip of her hair, she starts to make her way deeper into the party to search for Jade.

It doesn’t take her long to find her. She’s standing out more than usual, dancing whimsically by herself in the middle of the room to a groovy beat that doesn’t at all match the heavy synth EDM the actual host is blasting. Maya hangs back for a second, honestly shocked to see Jade Beamon of all people freestyling it in public, before clearing her throat.

Maya: Beamon?

Jade shakes off the haze just slightly at her name, spinning once too many times to find who called her and making herself a bit dizzy. She zeroes in on Maya soon enough, though, breaking into a bright grin and bouncing over to greet her.

Jade: [ uncharacteristically gregarious ] Maya! You came! [ taking her arms ] It’s so good to see you!

Okay, something is clearly not right. Maya stares at her, baffled.

Maya: What’s the matter with you? Did you get body snatched in the last forty-eight hours? [ with dread ] You didn’t get into Scientology, did you?

It comes at you fast in this city! Jade shakes her head, breaking into giggles, but doesn’t offer anything helpful. Maya puts the pieces together quick enough though when one of the friends of the host stops by them and offers them a plate of baked goods from the food table -- including the cosmic brownies. Her eyes widen.

Maya: No way.

Jade brightens at the desserts, starting to reach for one, but Maya slaps her hand down and shoos the party pusher away.

Maya: Scram and leave us be, Skins reject! [ once they’re gone ] Beamon. Beamon, look me in the eyes.

Hard task when her mind is so pleasantly floating in every other direction. Maya reaches up and takes Jade’s face, turning her to face her and getting a good look. Her eyes are tinted red, and her pupils are wide.

Maya: Holy shit, you’re stoned.

She’s on something, all right, though exactly what is anybody’s guess at a Hollywood party. Jade shakes her head as if to deny it, but her delayed chuckles don’t help her case. It’s a good thing she’s not totally out of it and seems otherwise okay, but suffice to say Maya doesn’t want to take her chances with her in this state.

EXT. TRENDY L.A. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Jordan and Farkle are heading out of the restaurant, making their way to the curb where the Nelson car will pick them up. Farkle is lagging behind a bit, which Jordan hardly seems to notice, and he’s held up even further when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket.

Maya calling. He frowns, picking up. Farkle: Hello?

INT. NOHO HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT

Maya exhales in relief when he answers, the scene intercutting between them. She’s found a corner of the party to park it temporarily, doing her best to keep Jade from wandering off and on a metaphorical leash.

Maya: Thank God. Listen, where are you? I need you to come to North Hollywood.

Farkle: Why the hell are you in NoHo?

Maya, affronted: What, is it so strange for me to be out and about? Am I supposed to be at home waiting like a good little apartment wife?

Farkle: No. No, that’s not what I --

Jade: [ to her shoulder ] Shh, Asher, I’m trying to hear the music! Stop chirping at me!

Maya: Sweet Jesus.

Farkle: Where are you? Is that Jade?

Maya: Yes. To make a long story short, there’s this party in NoHo, and I don’t know where Jade’s other acquaintances have fluttered off to but it’s a good thing I rolled up when I did because she is not herself.

Farkle: Is she okay?

Maya side-eyes her as she dreamily sways to the beat, humming along off-key.

Maya: Honestly, I think this is the least high-strung I’ve ever seen her. But that’s not the point.

Point is, she needs to get them somewhere safer so Jade can sleep this off, but she doesn’t want to pile her into a Lyft when she’s like this.

Maya: Can you come pick us up?

On instinct, Farkle starts to agree… but then he hesitates, looking at Jordan waiting by the curb. Still with potential tricks up his sleeve, and on a night like this…

Farkle: I don’t know. I’m out right now.

Maya: Okay, and?

Farkle: And I told Jordan we’d spend tonight together. It would be rude to just bail on him now.

Not quite the whole truth, and a pathetic reason regardless. Maya pauses, speechless for a moment, before she blinks to shake off the shock.

Maya: I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard you. I thought I heard you say it would be rude to ditch the boyfriend you’ve spent literally every waking second of your life with for the last two months --

Farkle, defensive: That’s not true.

Maya: When I literally just told you that there’s an emergency and I need your help.

Farkle: You said Jade was fine. That’s not technically an emergency.

Maya: That’s not the point!

Farkle: I’m sorry. Seriously, if I could rush over, I would. But Jordan put a lot of thought into tonight --

Maya: Oh, yeah, I’m so sure. I’m so sure he thought about literally one thing other than himself for five seconds.

Farkle: He did! And you know why! So tonight of all nights --

Maya: I cannot fucking believe you right now. I get that you get obsessive with your crushes, in that cute, manic way of yours, but this is excessive, Farkle.

Farkle: That’s not what this is --

Maya: What if it were me?

Farkle opens his mouth to respond, waiting for the right answer to slip out, but nothing comes. In a moment where he’s certain he’s supposed to know the solution, his brain freezes and goes totally blank.

But the hesitation is answer enough for Maya. She just asked him point blank whether things would be different if it were her not acting like herself, in a vulnerable state in need of help, and he hesitated. Because he’s with Jordan, and whoever he is now, Jordan always comes first.

Maya: Cool. Okay.

Farkle: Maya, of course I’d come. I would --

Maya: Would and will are two different things. But no, I get it. You’ve got more important things going on. You’ve made that perfectly clear.

He hates that they keep ending up like this. Standing on opposite sides of a fence that he doesn’t remember building. He searches for what to say, to make this better, but his brain still turns up no results.

Jordan: Minkus, what are you waiting for? Let’s ride.

Farkle: [ to Maya ] I can still send the car.

Maya: Yeah, great. Thanks. [ a beat, then with venom ] Hope your limp dick of a boyfriend is fucking worth it.

She hangs up before she can question her anger, leaving Farkle stunned on the other end of the line. He hangs frozen in the aftermath for a moment, feeling the gnawing sensation that everything about that exchange wasn’t right… then he remembers how to move when Jordan beckons him again from the car.

INT. NOHO HOUSE PARTY - MOMENTS LATER - NIGHT

Josh and ANDREW HALL make their way inside from the backyard with hard ciders of their own.

Andrew: Look, I’m just saying, our crew usually has better refreshments.

Josh: It’s a party full of assistants. Do you know how low our pay is?

Andrew: Yet another strike. Down with Hollywood until you get decent pretzels at these things.

Josh rolls his eyes -- then quickly grows more serious when he spots a familiar head of glossy blonde hair through the crowd. He frowns, blinking, thinking he must’ve imagined her -- he didn’t drink that much Mike’s -- but nope. His eyes don’t deceive him.

Maya is in fact at this party. And based on how she’s dragging Jade along, scanning the room for friendly faces, he gets the sense she’s not having a swell time of it. Based on their history, and what they last said to each other, part of him thinks he should just look the other way and mind his business. But the unsettled gleam in her eyes is unlike anything he’s seen from her before, lacking much of her arrogant confidence.

Suddenly, she looks a lot more like his niece. And if Riley were wandering an unfamiliar party like that, he would never leave her out to dry.

Josh: Maya?

Maya jumps slightly, no longer expecting to be recognized, but when she realizes who it is, the nerves dissipate. She quickly veers over to join them, Jade in tow. She’s so relieved for another life line, she doesn’t even have it in her to be snarky.

Maya: Thank fuck. Never thought it would be so good to see you.

Okay, so she still has a little room for snark. Josh ignores it though, getting a good look at Jade and trying to get a read on the situation.

Josh: Are you okay? You look a little lost.

Maya: Me? Fine. I’m never lost. My peer here, on the other hand --

Maya tugs lightly on Jade’s arm, directing her attention towards them. Jade is slow on the uptake, but she brightens when her sluggish brain finally recognizes Josh.

Jade: Heyyy, you’re Riley’s hot uncle!

Josh: [ clearing his throat ] Well, I wouldn’t --

Jade: The one who hasn’t managed to make a hit after years in the industry.

Josh: Okay, I think we all get who I am, thanks.

Maya: Trust me, she usually isn’t like this. If Jade were being normal Jade, she’d keep that unpleasant but factual tidbit to herself.

Josh: What’s wrong with her?

Jade: [ with a dazed giggle ] Tidbit…

It only takes Andrew a few seconds to catch on. He widens his eyes and gets a better look at her, before smacking Josh on the chest urgently.

Andrew: Oh, shit. Did she eat one of the cosmic brownies?

Josh: The cosmic brownies?

Maya: I wasn’t there to bear witness, but based on your reactions, I’m gonna go with yes.

Andrew: Shiiit. Those weren’t normal brownies, bro!

Maya: Yeah, that part I figured out already.

Jade: No kidding! It was fucking delicious.

Jade descends into giggles again, then stumbles slightly, Maya struggling to keep her steady. Josh immediately moves forward and helps, delicately holding Jade’s other arm.

Josh: I’m assuming she didn’t do this on purpose?

Maya: Knowing what a stick in the mud she usually is, good guess.

Either way, best not to keep her here. Josh offers without hesitation to drive them back to their apartment. He hands Andrew his keys so he can go bring the car around, then works with Maya to slowly lead Jade towards the exit after him. Andrew claims it’s a good time to bail anyway, as the party is fizzling out and if the brownies are having that kind of effect on Jade, that’s not the sort of pick-me-up he’s aiming for.

Andrew: Not to mention the snacks suck ass.

Jade: So true! That’s what I’m saying!

Josh rolls his eyes and ushers Andrew onward, Maya exchanging a look with him before they make their careful exit.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

A young Z.D. Roman navigates his way around a not dissimilar scene of a busy party, except everyone is dressed in early 2000’s styles that luckily weren’t brought back in the recent Y2K fashion resurgence. The main group of guys, including Zachary, look like they’ve been having plenty of fun with some cosmic brownies of their own.

We pull back from the scene to see that it’s on the MacNamara TV, being watched by Isa and Ruby. Both of them are having fun pointing out all the plot holes and questionable acting skills. Zachary pauses on his way upstairs and fondly watches the pair before clearing his throat to get their attention.

Zachary: You two seem to be having fun.

Ruby: Oh, yes. Isa is an excellent movie-watching companion. I swear, I’ve never noticed how many times you break character in the background before!

Zachary, lightly: I’m glad you’re bonding at my expense.

The conversation quickly stales, so Zachary announces that he’s going to head up for bed. He shares a quick kiss with Ruby, who says she’ll be up later, then awkwardly waves at Isa. Unsure whether they’re expected to wave back or not, Isa only provides a slight smile and a quiet goodnight.

Once he’s disappeared, Ruby turns the volume on the TV down and shifts on the couch to face Isa.

Ruby: So. How has the father bonding gone?

Isa: Oh, um… fine.

Ruby: Zachary’s so pleased that you’re here. It’s what he’s been hoping for since you first started talking.

Isa: Really?

Ruby: Of course! Ever since we found out you’re his, all either of us have wanted was to welcome you into the family. I know it might not feel like family yet, but… I really hope it does soon.

Isa lets the sentiment sink in. They’ve heard similar things from Valerie in the past, and every time it definitely did not end with creating a stable family.

They remind themselves that this time isn’t the same, though. Zachary isn’t Valerie. That should be clear enough, given if he were Valerie, all he would be doing is going on about herself… and he can’t seem to manage even one coherent sentiment about her.

Ruby: Something on your mind?

Isa jumps out of their thoughts. Ruby gives them a gentle smile; they can share their thoughts if they want, but she isn’t going to pressure them.

Ruby: I hope you know that all I ever want is to help you, though. You have my full support. Even if you want to vent about Zachary’s awful eating noises or his refusal to accept Pluto as a planet. I’m all ears.

Isa chuckles, then admits defeat.

Isa: It’s just… [ caving ] well, he refuses to talk about Val. Valerie, I mean. De La Cruz.

Ruby: [ with a patient smile ] I am aware of her, yes.

Isa: Right, of course. It’s… it’s not something I have entirely figured out either -- and believe me, it’s been years of trying to figure it out -- so I can’t blame him, necessarily. But every time I try to bring her up, he just clams up.

Ruby: Ah. I see…

Isa: And normally, I’d be like, whatever. I’m not one to push. Like my best friend, Lucas --

Ruby: The one who is like your brother.

So she does pay attention to Isa’s letters. They nod.

Isa: Yeah, him. He’s the same way, just about like… everything. Worst conversationalist ever. But I don’t care, it’s fine. Like, normally I wouldn’t give a crap. But Valerie is half of me. [ frustrated ] How can we really get to know each other if he refuses to acknowledge half of who I am? How can we function without addressing the glittery, bedazzled elephant in the room?

Ruby hums in thought, quiet for a long moment. When she finally speaks, it’s careful, considered.

Ruby: Valerie is a difficult topic for him. She was his first love, and first loves stick with you, no matter how much time passes. [ a beat ] Her death hit him hard. He’s tried to convince himself that it didn’t, that he had nothing to be upset over with all the distance and everything, but of course he did. He does. I don’t think he’s ever let himself properly grieve, because to him, he’s moved on.

Isa: Sure seems like it…

Ruby: Emotions rarely work the way we think they should. In his head, it just doesn’t seem right. He has me, and the boys. They split ages ago, and even though it was relatively friendly, it was decisive. He made a point of distancing himself. In his logical mind, he feels he shouldn’t be upset about his ex. But Valerie will always hold a place in Zachary’s heart, whether he likes it or not. And while I’m perfectly fine with that -- and I tried to tell him so when it all happened, when we heard the news -- he isn’t. So instead of facing it, letting himself grieve, he just avoids the topic altogether. Unfortunately, that has consequences, even if they’re not obvious. Not just for himself, but you, too.

Isa takes a moment to absorb this. They can certainly understand running away from feelings -- they’re a reigning royal at that -- let alone towards your first love. Unfortunately, that feels all too relevant these days.

The brain cogs start turning, trying to figure out a solution… but in the meantime, they thank Ruby sincerely. She gives them a smile in return, before directing them back to the antics of college film humor.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Yindra has made it back to Los Angeles, all settled back in her room and bracing for what’s to come. Darius comes and knocks lightly on her door, giving her the quick update on his work schedule for tomorrow and when they’ll be able to sit down and have a serious discussion about what her game plan is moving forward. Yindra doesn’t argue him on it, knowing she’s earned the additional scrutiny. She’s fumbled his trust, and she has every intention to rebuild it.

Despite the awkwardness of that lingering between them, Darius gives her a gentle smile.

Darius: I’m glad you’re back, Yin.

Yindra: Me too.

And in spite of her nerves, it sounds like she really means it. The two of them exchange a kiss on the cheek to say good night, then Darius leaves her alone.

Just in time for her to get a late-night call of her own. She grows confused when she sees the caller ID, answering simply because she can’t fathom why she would be calling unless she had exhausted any other options.

Yindra: Maya?

INT. JOSH’S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

Maya is in the backseat with Jade, trying to keep her steady. This isn’t an easy feat, considering she’s currently offkey belting along to “Happier Than Ever” by Billie Eilish on the speakers and with her inhibitions so lowered, is really into it. Andrew isn’t helping -- or maybe is helping just the right amount -- as he encourages Jade by dramatically singing along with her.

Maya: Oh good. I wasn’t sure if you’d landed yet or not. [ a beat ] You are back in L.A., right?

Yindra: Yes.

Jade: ‘Cause that shit’s embarrassing, you were my everything!

Andrew: And all that you did was make ME FUCKING SAAAAAD!

Josh: Jesus, could you two shut up?! I’m trying to drive!

Yindra, bewildered: Where the hell are you?

Jade: So DON’T waste the TIME I don’t HAAAAAVE --

Andrew: Yes, queen! Sing it louder!

Yindra: Is that Jade?

Maya: Yes. Yes, yes, it’s Jade. Long story. Long, long saga of a story that happened within the last two hours. To keep it short, any chance you could hitch a ride over to ours? Jade is… not herself, and I think having more familiar faces around will be good.

Andrew: Made all my moments your owwwwwwwwn…

Jade: JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!

Maya winces at the bad pitch, blinking it off and plugging her other ear.

Maya: And to be blunt, I really don’t want to deal with her by myself.

Leave it to her fellow Adams alumni to rope her into mischief within an hour of touching down in the city. But honestly, there’s something warm and comforting about that. Yindra assures Maya she’ll be there.

INT. NELSON ESTATE - JORDAN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is lounging on Jordan’s bed while he waits for him to come back to the room, but he doesn’t seem especially relaxed. He taps his fingers anxiously, glancing at his messages and debating about texting Maya to check in. Then he thinks better of it, locking his phone.

He lingers on the time glowing back at him. Just a few minutes to midnight.

Jordan returns in his sweats, idly stating that after letting it settle for a bit, he’s decided he wasn’t that impressed with the new meal. It was exciting to get to be there for the debut, of course, but he isn’t convinced it’ll be worth the hype it’ll inevitably get. He continues to unpack it as he climbs onto the bed next to Farkle, not at all attuned to his slight edge of nerves.

They settle down to drift off, Jordan inviting Farkle to cuddle up next to him. Farkle does so, happily, then can’t hold back his hopes any longer.

Farkle: Jordan?

Jordan: Hm?

Farkle, shyly: … Isn’t there something else you want to do tonight?

Jordan frowns slightly, obviously confused. He glances at Farkle, looking at the hopeful shade to his expression… then he smiles, just the slightest bit condescending, like he’s got it all figured out. He takes Farkle’s chin and hesitates just a moment, just for effect, before pulling him into a gentle kiss. It lingers, and when they pull apart, Farkle just knows the words he’s been waiting for are coming…

Jordan: Good night, Minkus. [ playfully ] There’s no reason to be so needy, you know. If you want to kiss me, you can just do it. I can’t do all the leading around here.

Jordan reaches over and switches off the light, closing his eyes and letting that be that. Farkle stays frozen in place, processing in what feels like slow motion. Eventually, he realizes that there really isn’t anything else to say, not to Jordan at least, and gradually lets himself recline back against the pillows. He gently turns away and faces the opposite wall.

On the nightstand, the clock turns to 12:01. Farkle swallows, managing a tight smile to himself in lieu of letting any other potential emotion cross his features in the dark.

Happier than ever…

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

By the time they make it back to the apartment, Jade is officially easing into the crash phase of her trip. She’s drowsy but not in bad spirits as Josh gently lowers her onto the couch, still humming the melody of “The Other Side” to herself.

Before he pulls away, she touches the collar of his jacket and holds on, whispering like she’s telling him a secret.

Jade: Thank you, uncle Riley. The rumors are true, you are hot.

Josh: … thanks.

Jade descends into giggles, letting him go. Maya watches her with a mix of amusement and judgment, turning her attention to Josh once he braves approaching her. For a long beat, they just size each other up, not sure what to say.

Josh: It’s a good thing you showed up when you did. The folks at that party that I know are all stand-up, but you just never know in this city.

Maya: Don’t think that’s unique to L.A. [ touché ] I guess it was more lucky that we happened to run into you. Because I didn’t really have a plan. It was… cool of you, to help. You didn’t have to do that.

Josh: ‘Course I did. No way would I let one of Riley’s friends deal with that on their own when there was something I could do.

He’s a Matthews -- being compassionate and reliable is in his blood. And despite their history, he’s clearly not as petty as she might be sometimes. Maya absorbs his genuine delivery, hesitating before broaching the unspoken broken bridge between them.

Maya: Sure. I just… you know, with everything that went down with me… I’m just saying, I wouldn’t have judged if you wanted nothing to do with it.

Josh: Actually, uh, I think I owe you an apology on that front. [ off her eyebrow raise ] Melissa told me about how they decided crediting. That it was their call. So.

Oh. That’s interesting. And with that dust settled between them, even if the logistics aren’t resolved, it suddenly feels a lot less clear where they stand with one another. Is there really any point in being cold to each other when the reason for their bad blood is now due to forces entirely out of their control?

They don’t get the chance to decide tonight. Maya is distracted when there’s a knock at the door, giving her the excuse to walk away. She lets Yindra inside, the two of them exchanging an awkward smile before Yindra turns her attention to Jade. She heads over to the couch to join her, Jade brightening considerably when she sees her.

Jade: Yindraaaaaa.

Yindra, endeared: Hi, babe. How are we doing?

Jade: So good. I partied with the techies, had fun with my coworkers, and had the best brownie of my fucking life.

Yindra: I can tell.

Jade: Asher was a bird. Can you believe?

Well, seems like Jade is in good hands. Andrew and Josh take that as their cue to leave, Yindra settling down on the couch next to Jade. She waves goodbye to both of them, especially Andrew.

Jade: Bye new bestie.

Andrew: You know it, girl. Keep on singing.

He pats his chest and then kisses his fingers, pointing it at her. She returns the gesture, Yindra extremely entertained behind her. Josh and Maya exchange one more nod before the boys head out, sealing their détente.

Jade leans closer to Yindra, divulging another juicy, buzzed secret. In her fuzzy-brained tiredness, she’s more affectionate than usual.

Jade: You know something… you have always been my favorite Nigel-friend.

Yindra: [ putting her hand to her chest ] Girl… you flatter me. I will cherish that forever. But your secret is safe with me.

Jade brings a finger to her lips and shushes, which Yindra playfully emulates. She then reaches for her phone in her pocket.

Yindra: Speaking of, do you wanna call Nige? He’s probably asleep like a nerd, but we can try.

Jade: [ with a little gasp ] Yeah!

Yindra: Yeah! Let’s call him.

Jade leans close as Yindra pulls up Nigel’s contact. Maya watches them from the door, shaking her head. What a fucking night…

And yet, there’s an unmistakable shade of fondness in her expression too.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isa settles onto their bed, releasing a sigh. They can sure relate to the sentiment of what a night -- more like what a life -- but after their conversation with Ruby, they’re feeling a bit more grounded. Still lots to navigate, but it’ll be worth it. They have to believe that. The most important things are never easy.

That goes for more than one thing in their life. After thinking on it for a long moment, and despite how they last left things, Isa opens their phone and pulls up Farkle’s contact. They start typing out a message.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

As it so happens, Nigel is still awake, because he’s found himself too excited to sleep. He’s been exploring alternate tracks via a rabbit hole on the internet, and somehow he’s ended up on the webpages of universities in London. There are plenty that have specialty programs in acting just like Tisch… to be a hop and skip away from the West End, in a country where the culture around art and celebrity is different… not to mention spiritually closer to Shakespeare, the thing that made him fall in love with theater.

It’s crazy, but it’s fun to look at. Just to muse on, like Riley suggested. Let his imagination roam in pursuit of whatever it is he needs. He wouldn’t ever actually do it. That would be silly.

Right?

He’s pulled out of his late-night thoughts when his phone rings, Yindra’s call coming through. He immediately picks up, assuming it must be an emergency if she’s calling so late.

Nigel: Hello? Yindra, everything okay?

Jade, off-screen: HIIIIIII NIIIIIGE.

Nigel stares at his phone, not sure if he heard correctly. He pauses, wondering if he’s dreaming, then tentatively puts the phone back to his ear.

Nigel: Jade?

Yindra, delighted: Everything is great, Nigel. Everything is so, so great.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Unfortunately, that hazy good vibe can’t carry over into the walls of Turner Academy. With the transfer auditions now at the forefront, no longer a distant threat, the tension is palpable when the transfer cohort walks the halls or arrives for class. No forced good nature or playful trash talk can defuse the building pressure.

Vanessa and Zay are no exception. When Vanessa arrives at the studio bright and early for some rehearsal, she’s surprised to find Zay already there. Based on the sweat he’s worked up, he must’ve been there for at least an hour.

Since she snuck out on him earlier in the week to get some extra work in, he’s gotten the subtle hint -- he’ll be putting just as much time in.

Still, they do their best to act normal, whatever that means.

Vanessa: Oh. Hey. Didn’t realize you were coming in this morning.

Zay: Yeah. Well, I got inspired for my routine, the bare bones anyway, so I wanted to start threading stuff together.

Vanessa: Totally.

She glances over his shoulder, where choreo sheets are spread out on the floor with a few starting scribbles. Self-consciously -- or perhaps protectively -- Zay goes and gathers them up, storing them safely in a folder that he returns to his backpack. Away from any prying eyes.

Including his girlfriend’s. Though the moment passes without comment, Vanessa feels a slight sting.

But she does her best to move past it. She tries to avoid the sword hanging heavy over their heads, choosing a far more neutral topic.

Vanessa: This week was fun. Hanging out with Yindra, and Henrik, and stuff.

Zay: Oh, yeah. I agree. Thanks for being willing to help me get Yindra out of her head.

Vanessa: No problem. Like I said, it was fun. I like her a lot.

Zay: Don’t tell her that, she doesn’t need the ego boost. But yeah, she’s great. And I know she’ll be great, out there doing her thing. She just needs to keep remembering why she’s doing it.

Vanessa: For sure. [ a beat ] You’re a good friend. Stepping up for her like that. One of your more redeeming qualities.

Zay: Ha ha ha…

Vanessa: Not that I think skipping out on class is the way to go about it, but…

So she’s still stuck on that… Zay doesn’t seem to get what her hang up is, scrunching his nose, but he chooses to ignore the dig. Instead, he aims to follow the pattern of that redeeming quality, offering to help her as well.

Zay: Have you started working on your routine for the audition yet?

Vanessa: … I’m thinking about it. Started choreographing some broad concepts.

Zay: Nice. What are you thinking of doing?

It should be second nature, sharing her plans with her partner, but Vanessa finds she doesn’t want to answer. She crosses her arms, keeping her tone casual as she shrugs.

Vanessa: I don’t really wanna say. [ a beat ] Just ‘cause it’s not ready yet. Not fleshed out.

Zay: Right. Come on, at least give me the basics --

Vanessa: No.

Her pushback was a tad too quick there. Zay is slightly stunned by the abrupt dismissal.

Zay: Are you seriously not going to tell me?

Vanessa: I don’t get what the big deal is. We’ve barely started working on them.

Zay: Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it. You’re my girlfriend. We should be able to talk about the stuff we’ve got going on.

Vanessa: Okay, then. You show me yours. What’s your big concept for your audition, Zay?

Oop. Got ‘em… Zay opens his mouth to proudly respond, but he finds himself stuck on the same hesitation as her. Despite how relaxed he’s trying to be, he can’t put his money where his mouth is. Vanessa scoffs.

Vanessa: Typical.

Zay: We weren’t talking about me. I asked about you first.

Vanessa: And I said no. Why won’t you just drop it?

Zay: Because this is ridiculous! What, do you think I’m gonna steal your brilliant ideas or something? As if I don’t have plenty more of my own? I wouldn’t need to stoop to jacking anything from you.

Vanessa: [ with an incredulous laugh ] You are such a hypocrite! You’re gonna lecture me about not wanting to share, when you literally wouldn’t do the exact same not five seconds ago. Like, what are we even arguing about?

Zay: I’m just saying that I’d think after dating me for months, you could comfortably trust that I’m not going to scoop your stuff or sabotage you.

Vanessa: Well, same to you!

All that tension must be caving in, because it’s suddenly way easier to get heated than it was a month or so ago. Neither of them can seem to let it drop, even as they sense they’re walking a dangerous line.

Zay: I do trust you. I don’t think you’ll do that.

Vanessa: Yet you won’t tell me your ideas. Pot, kettle.

Zay: Because you started this whole thing! I was fine. I’m not the one making it weird. But if you’re gonna be weird, then how am I supposed to react?

Vanessa: Um, earth to Zay, everyone is weird now! Haven’t you seen how people looked at us in the locker room? Haven’t you been in class?

Zay: I don’t pay attention to what other people think of me.

Vanessa: Ha! First, that’s some bullshit.

Zay: Oh, fuck you --

Vanessa: Second, let me answer my own question -- I know you haven’t been in class, because you’re too busy galavanting around Manhattan going on all these random ass auditions.

Zay: Okay, what is your deal with that? Why the hell do you care if I blow my brains out in stats or not?

Vanessa: Because some of us actually care about our grades! Being a Turner transfer isn’t just about the program and dance -- you have to do all of it! You have to be well-rounded, have high marks, be perfect! I have to be fucking perfect! And I don’t have the outsized ego to think that my dancing is so unbelievably life-changing that they’ll let me be one of the two transfers even if my academics are in the fucking pits.

Zay: Oh my God, again with the projecting --

Vanessa: I mean, God, Zay, why are you even doing this? If you don’t care about the school part, about trying to get into a dance school, then why the fuck are you even here taking up the space when some of us would give everything for it? Why bother when you’ve got seven hundred auditions of your own lined up each week?

You know what, that’s not an unfair question. It’s enough to make Zay pause, certain he should have an answer but not able to make one magically come to the surface. Even so, it offends him regardless, naturally bringing out the fire that always seems one spark away from igniting between them.

Zay: Sorry not all of us can be fucking merit scholars. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to have a learning disability and still deserve to dance.

Damn. Vanessa exhales, hurt by the insinuation that that’s what she thinks, but recognizing why he went there. The whole conversation spiraled out of control so fast -- too fast -- in a way neither of them were prepared for. It hasn’t felt this fragile since the start of the school year, when they were still taking shots from opposite corners. Before the lines blurred, and their dynamic became something more.

They thought they had grown past this volcanic nature, yet here they are. Back to square one with just the slightest bit of pressure, out of breath and lightly wounded, with no idea how to turn back.

In this instance, they’re saved by the bell -- or rather, Zay’s phone. It starts vibrating against the wood floor, startling them both and snapping them out of the heat of the moment. Zay takes the excuse to turn away, retrieving it and somewhat surprised by who’s calling so early in the day.

Zay: Hello?

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Charlie releases a sigh of relief when he hears Zay on the other end of the line. He’s frantically putting together final preparations for whatever plan he and Lucas have concocted, and the nerves about it show. His voice is shaky when he speaks.

Charlie: Zay. Hi. I don’t have a ton of time, but -- listen, your dad still does accounting for ABC, right?

Zay: Um… yeah? At least, far as I know. Unless he got a whole new job without telling me.

Charlie: Great. That’s amazing. I know this is going to sound really weird, but is there any chance you could give me his number? It’s important.

Um, yeah, that does sound really weird. Zay frowns.

Zay: What? Why?

Charlie: I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain. It’s a long story.

Zay: You’re asking me to hook you up with my dad --

Vanessa’s turn to make a face. Who the hell is he talking to? Charlie screws his eyes shut, shaking his head lightly.

Charlie: You don’t have to put it like that…

Zay: And you’re not even gonna tell me why?

Charlie: I swear, if I had the time to, I would. I will, once everything gets figured out.

Zay: What is “everything?” [ a beat ] You’re kind of freaking me out, man.

Charlie: I know. I’m sorry. I just really need you to do this for me. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.

Zay: Charlie…

Oh. Of course it’s Charlie. Vanessa wonders why she even thought she had to guess… she swallows her bitterness and crosses her arms, turning away.

Charlie: I know I’m putting you in a weird position. And I know that this feels like I’m doing the same shit again, where I’m not telling you everything, and I promise you that’s not what I’m trying to do. I don’t want to do that to you, ever again. But this situation is bigger than me, and I need you to trust that I have a good reason. I need you to trust me. [ gently ] Please, Zay.

If there’s one natural skill Charlie never fails to deliver, it’s speaking with gut-wrenching sincerity. Even though not knowing what’s going on is obviously frustrating to Zay, and it all still feels so weird… he closes his eyes and releases a groan.

Zay: Fine. Fine!

Charlie: [ with an immense sigh ] Thank you. Thank you!

Zay: I’ll text you his number. But don’t make me regret this, whatever it is. And you better fucking tell me what’s going on as soon as --

Charlie: I will. Zay, I swear I will. On my life. On Skippy’s life.

Zay: All right, no need to be that dramatic. I just hope you know what the hell you’re doing.

Charlie: [ with a pointed exhale ] Me too.

Charlie thanks him again, sincerity shining. Before he hangs up, Zay gets one last word in, still clueless but having the strange sense that he should say something.

Zay: Charlie… be careful. Okay?

Charlie smiles lightly, touched by the sentiment. Just for a moment, it brings him back down to earth.

Charlie: I will. Thank you again. I owe you. Thanks.

With that, he hangs up, leaving Zay even more confused.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

It’s even earlier in Los Angeles when Farkle creeps his way back into the apartment, treading quietly as to not wake Maya up. And good thing, too, as his couch is still occupied -- Jade and Yindra are both asleep, curled up on opposite sides but sharing a throw blanket.

Cute as the visual is, it doesn’t instill Farkle with much positive energy. In fact, it just makes him feel guilty, reminding him of how he blew off Maya’s request for help last night.

And for what… he swallows his emotion and sneaks his way into his room, shutting the door behind him.

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

He drops his overnight bag on the floor with a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes and knocking his head back against the doorframe. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He’s got the lead in a musical with a role he’s excited about, where he just had a spectacular opening night. He’s lucky enough to have more than a few friends out here with him, even more than usual right now. He has a great boyfriend, who spent all evening with him yesterday and showed him new, trendy things and paid him attention. What more is he asking for? Why is he still standing here with a lump in his throat and bags under his eyes from a sleepless night?

Maybe that’s just it. Maybe he just needs to sleep it off. He starts to head towards his bed to collapse when he stops just in time, noticing the item placed neatly on his bed before he crushes it.

A gift box. Beautifully wrapped, baby pink tag -- that thing Maya was putting together last night. He picks up the box and delicately unwraps it, prying the lid open to retrieve what’s inside.

It’s a gold digital frame, the kind where the image rotates between pre-selected files. And each one that comes up as he stares at it is a photo of him and Maya. There’s so many to choose from, it’s amazing she could narrow it down -- there’s even a few from as far back as freshman and sophomore year, before they were really friends, just for the narrative richness of it all.

He looks at the tag, actually reading the message in Maya’s loopy handwriting.

You should be honored to know that I bought this stupid expensive frame (well, probably not expensive to you, but as far as frames go) first thing after O.M.G. started making a tidy little profit. Felt only right that the first person who gets to enjoy the fruits of my musical labor should be the person who I couldn’t have made them without.

(Okay, your mom chipped in a bit too. Details. She’s rooting hard for us, let her dream!!)

All my love to the love of my life,

M.H. ♥

If Farkle felt choked up before, it’s nothing compared to now. His eyes are glossy as he cradles the frame in his hands, settling down onto his bed. The sentiment seems to remind him of another message, instinctively going for his phone.

If Maya’s reason for giving such a thoughtful gift seemed at all random, the reason why becomes apparent in seconds, as Farkle rereads the text Isa sent him last night.

“hey, I’m sorry about how we left things yesterday. That was shitty. I didn’t mean to say all that, or make you feel bad. I just care about you a lot, and that’s why I felt like I should say something. You know I trust your instincts, and I want to support you however I can. In whatever form that takes. Just know that I’m trying even if I can’t seem to say it right

anyway, happy birthday Icarus”

It was his birthday. It was his eighteenth birthday, and his boyfriend didn’t say anything. He may have spent all day with him, but it’s like he wasn’t even there. He had all the time in the world, and he couldn’t remember to say the one thing Farkle was hoping to hear. At this point, he can’t help but wonder if Jordan even knew in the first place to be able to forget it.

All those doubts he’s been swallowing, the concerns his friends keep sending up like signal flares, are becoming harder and harder to ignore. Like the lump in his throat, he doesn’t think they’re just going to go away.

Farkle hugs the frame to his chest and rolls onto his side, curling up towards the wall and shutting his eyes before the throat ache can turn into anything more.

INT. JOHNSON HOME - DAY

Vanessa arrives home in a huff, hoping to lock herself in her room and deal with whatever volcanic emotion she’s feeling in peace. She isn’t so lucky -- both her parents are there when she returns, cooking together in the kitchen.

The picture of a beautiful, stable relationship. Fucking brilliant. Vanessa does her best to avoid their notice, slipping past the entryway and racing for the hall. But she’s not quick enough. ALEXIS JOHNSON pops her head out and greets her cheerfully, RAY JOHNSON following moments later.

They ask her how her morning rehearsal went, and she answers with a vague and noncommittal “fine.” Immediately, Alexis can sense that something isn’t right based on her tone; to Ray, he just hears more unwarranted attitude.

Ray: Hey, you don’t need to talk to your mother that way. We’re just taking an interest in how things are going. With how your big auditions or whatever are coming up, I’d hope that rehearsal is going fantastic.

Vanessa: Yeah, well, me too.

Alexis: What’s wrong? Did something happen? [ with concern ] Your standing to audition isn’t in jeopardy, is it?

Vanessa: No. [ running a hand through her hair ] No, it’s not about that.

With a bit more prodding, it doesn’t take much to figure out what’s bothering her. There’s only one thing she openly cares about beyond dance these days, at least to them, so it becomes obvious. Zay.

Alexis: Is everything okay? Did you have a fight?

Vanessa: I’d rather not talk about it.

Alexis, delicate: Did you break up?

Vanessa: No. [ under her breath ] Not yet, anyway.

Ray: Did he do something? If he doesn’t know what he’s got, Ness, then that is his loss. You let me know if any words need to be had.

Vanessa has the urge to roll her eyes at his grandstanding, but at the same time, it kind of feels nice. For her dad to be on her side, so unabashedly supportive. With a cautious sense of security, Vanessa braves opening up a bit more about it, hoping for more reassurance. She briefly explains the friction that seems to have popped up, and the way they can’t seem to share with one another about what they’re working on. With the auditions, it just feels like…

Ray: Oh, is this about the dance thing? That’s what has you so upset?

Well, that lasted about a minute. Vanessa goes on the defensive, wondering why he’s taking that tone. What is objectionable about anything she just described, aside from the fact that it sucks?

Ray: I knew this would happen. I told your mom this was bound to happen.

Alexis: Ray…

Vanessa: What? That what was bound to happen?

Ray: That you would blow a good thing over this… pipe dream! You’ve finally got a good guy in your life who you like, who you managed to get to like you, and you’re going to self-sabotage that over this “ambition” that is probably going to go nowhere! It doesn’t make sense, Vanessa. It’s not sensible.

Vanessa is gobsmacked. She can’t wrap her head around it. She’s always known her priorities were divergent from her parents, but to have it so blatantly thrown in her face in a moment of weakness…

This is exactly why she doesn’t tell them anything. This is exactly why she operates on her own. Because she can’t win -- she doesn’t have a partner, they think she’s insecure and not seriously thinking about the future. She gets a boyfriend, and suddenly her mom is concerned she’s risking her career that her dad doesn’t even support. That relationship gets even an inch closer to the rocks, and suddenly the collapse of whatever she had is entirely her fault. All thanks to her and her stupid pipe dreams.

She wishes she had broken up with Zay. She wishes she had acted without thinking, on her worst instincts, so she could throw him right back at her father like a loaded grenade. Blow it all up with a flourish since it’s bound to come crashing down regardless. But she can’t. She can’t, because they didn’t -- and because she doesn’t know that’s what she actually wants.

That’s always the problem. Aside from dance, she has no fucking clue what she wants.

Except right now, when she’s sure she wants to get out of this conversation. She walks away from her parents, ignoring her dad’s continued judgment as she steps into her bedroom and slams the door.

OVER BLACK:

Over black, a text message notification vibrates. An incoming bubble comes up on screen.

Riley Matthews: good luck. keep me posted ASAP

Riley Matthews: love you both

Riley Matthews: and be careful.

INT. PARKING GARAGE - MID-LEVEL - DAY

The skyline of the financial district is just visible between the levels of the parking garage. It’s pretty much deserted at this time of day and this high up into the structure, nothing but an unmarked van, a couple of college students chatting innocently in their beat up Toyota before class, and a business woman doing her best to fix a flat tire at the opposite end of the row.

INT. UNMARKED VAN - DAY

Only the van isn’t empty. OMAR BABINEAUX is visible in the driver’s seat, working on paperwork to appear innocuous, but he’s got an eye on the scenery through his mirrors. And a bit further back in the van, Charlie is concealed, just able to get an angle through the window on what they’re there for.

He glances down at his phone, where the messages from Riley have come through. He swallows his apprehension.

Omar: Any minute now, yeah?

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, should be.

INT. PARKING GARAGE - MID-LEVEL - DAY

Lucas is silhouetted against the cloudy morning grey, wearing a nondescript blue flannel and looking out towards the view. He appears relatively calm, expression schooled into unreadable, but his fingers absentmindedly picking at a hangnail on his thumb betray some of his nerves.

Another car pulls into that level of the garage -- a rather nice, new sedan. Lucas doesn’t even have to turn around to know who is approaching. He listens to the crunch of the asphalt underneath the wheels and the hum of the engine, taking a deep breath and centering himself.

Then the engine dies, and he opens his eyes. Showtime.

A car door slams. Lucas casually turns around just as Graham walks towards him. They don’t greet one another, but it’s more than apparent this is the only reason either of them are there.

Graham: Whatever this is, I’d prefer if you make it quick. Unlike you, I don’t have life to waste.

Lucas: Hopefully, it will be.

Graham: And is there a specific reason you insisted on meeting elsewhere, rather than in the building where we both work? Or are you simply dead set on wasting my time and resources? I know you’re quite good at that.

Lucas: Oh, I think you know exactly why we’re here. I think you already know what I want to talk about. And I think that’s why you suggested this location, all the way on the opposite end of the city from the office. [ raising his eyebrows ] You may not like me, Graham, but you know I’m not stupid. I know you aren’t either.

Maybe so, but Graham isn’t showing his cards that easily. He nudges Lucas to go on with it, and he obliges. He reaches into his back pocket concealed beneath his flannel and retrieves a folded up collection of papers, stapled together, which he hands over to Graham.

He lets the collection speak for itself. And it does -- loudly. It’s all of the evidence he and Charlie compiled, the relevant bits anyway, collated into a neat chronological timeline. The end point of it all is clear, however. Graham is corrupt, and he’s breaking plenty of rules, if not the law.

Graham pauses for a long moment, absorbing the stack that’s just been handed to him. When he speaks again, his voice is cold but devoid of emotion.

Graham: How did you get your hands on this?

Lucas: That’s not important.

Graham: I should damn well disagree. I think the authorities would be very interested in how you obtained these private emails and records -- especially given your criminal record.

Lucas: You and I both know you aren’t going to turn me in for this. Because what are you going to hand them? That?

Where he’s fucking guilty? Graham hesitates.

Graham: You know you can’t use this anywhere. If you tried to do anything. They’ll want to know your sources, how you got this. Any reasonable court will dismiss it.

Lucas: I know that too. We both do. I’m not trying to send you to jail.

Graham: [ growing impatient ] Then what the hell are we doing here? What the hell do you want?

Lucas: The truth. I want to know why.

Graham stares at him. Is he for real? What kind of silly, pointless hero fantasy is he playing at? What does he want, a villain monologue?

Graham: Why what? This isn’t a question, it’s a stack of papers.

Lucas: Why you decided taking money from backend channels was worth sacrificing your integrity on the school board? When you stopped caring about your constituents and their needs -- if you ever did -- and decided lining your own pockets was a better use of your career?

Graham: I am more than certain that my constituents are more than pleased with my work.

Lucas: Oh, I don’t doubt you there. Some of them, anyway. The wealthy ones. The ones paying hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to push your vote towards forced prayer in school, or trying to seize control of the private entities in the school system that don’t subscribe to your rigid world view.

Graham: You don’t understand a thing about what I stand for. Not that I would expect you to, growing up the way you did --

Their conversation is interrupted when the woman fixing her tire accidentally drops her wrench, a loud clatter ringing through the echoing structure. Both of them pause, aware of how thin their privacy is. Lucas can sense his opportunity is slipping away -- Graham’s going to walk away, and he’s going to have nothing.

Lucas: Why did you feel the need to hide all this, then? The code words, the secrecy, the shrouded communication? If you’re so proud of your values, what you stand for, why not shout it from the rooftops? Why go to all this work to cover your tracks; or threaten harm to those who get too close to the truth?

Graham: Preposterous.

Lucas: I think you’re scared, Graham.

Graham, icily: Mister Graham. Speak with a little bit of respect, if you ever learned what that is.

Lucas: I think you’re scared of change. How fast the world is changing. You can’t keep up. You have your values, but they’re outdated. The kids are all right, but not in your book. We don’t know what we have; you know so much better. And when we get older, and you die off, then what? Who is going to stop the world from going to complete shit?

Graham: You got at least one thing right -- you don’t know anything. You surely don’t know when to quit.

Lucas: You fancy yourself a real crusader. Defender of… what? Exactly? The status quo? Wealth? Privilege? You’re so threatened when one well-connected girl can’t get into a private institution that you threaten to expel a student just to make the point that money should be able to buy anything. You feel so offended when someone you don’t deem worthy ends up in your place of work, doing the work just like anyone else --

Graham: You’re kidding yourself if you believe your hiring was anything more than pity.

Lucas: Affirmative action, maybe? Does that scare you too, Graham? [ a beat ] Is it worth sending a car after us for that, too?

Graham: You could’ve minded your place. You could have minded your own business, and none of this would even be a discussion.

Lucas, flatly: You could’ve killed us.

Graham: [ losing his patience ] And whose fault would that have been? When they looked at what happened, who do you think they would’ve blamed -- the upstanding board member with no connection to the incident, or the street rat freeloader with a reckless driving mark on his record already?

Oop. Graham steps forward, backing Lucas further to the edge. He managed to crack him, but now he has to survive the consequences.

Graham: And tell me honestly, Friar, what loss would it have been? Who would’ve missed you? The mother who’s never around, or maybe the father who was so fed up with your antics that he had you expelled from his own school? I suppose maybe Jack Hunter might shed a tear or two, since he’s adopted you as his scrappy little pet mascot for adversity, but he’d get over that pretty quick once he loses the election and his career is over.

Graham takes another step; Lucas steps further away. He backs into the beam at the edge of the garage, the open air offering no safety net behind him. The heel of his boot scrapes against the concrete, sending a couple of pebbles off the side and into freefall.

INT. UNMARKED VAN - DAY

From their vantage point, it’s starting to look bad. Omar watches warily.

Omar: It might be time to step in…

Charlie: No. Not yet.

Omar glances at him, searching his expression. Charlie’s got his gaze locked on the showdown. He’s nervous, but certain -- he’s not ready to give up on it. On Lucas.

Charlie: Just… give him a minute. One more minute.

INT. PARKING GARAGE - MID-LEVEL - DAY

Lucas steels his nerve, gritting his teeth and holding his ground even as Graham closes in on him. For such an elderly, regal man, it’s impressive how fast a vengeful man can show his true frightening colors. The rest of the garage has gone silent around them.

Lucas: So you did know about it. You sent that car after us.

Graham: It doesn’t matter who did. What matters is why. You wanted why. We sent you that message because you’re incapable of minding your own business. Because you insisted on sticking your nose where it didn’t belong -- [ holding up the papers ] and jeopardizing everything we’ve worked for.

Lucas: The payouts. Your under-the-table deals.

Graham: So we take a little money on the side for objectives we already planned to implement anyway. Welcome to the real world. That’s just how it is. I’m sure with your elementary school level of comprehension, that’s a big shock to you, but the world is much more complex than good and evil. Right or wrong. There’s only is or isn’t -- and we’re doing what we can to make sure what is are foundational traditional values that every parent can get behind. That’ll equip the students for a brighter future -- so God forbid, they don’t end up like you.

Lucas: And Connelly is going to help. He’s already in on the deal.

Graham: Connelly understands how important this fight is. And once he’s elected, you’ll see just how much.

So yes, they take their funding from wherever they can get it. Sometimes, when a lucrative proposition comes up, they find ways to work that into their plans. Connelly benefited from this arrangement, yes, and in just a couple days time, the whole school district will.

Graham: This may shock you, but people want the policies we believe in. Ever heard of the silent majority? People want the option to send their children to well-stocked, highly rated institutions, not riddled with poverty and lack of resources and petty crime. People want more involvement in their schools, not to be saddled with the responsibility of the children of other adults who can’t be bothered to show up. And people want their children to enjoy the comfort and safety of an education free of waste and degenerate distractions -- free of filth like you.

Lucas twitches slightly, mask slipping for just a second, and we can see that Graham is hitting exactly where it hurts. He isn’t impervious, and the cuts are landing just where Graham wants. But he stands firm. He holds his ground. If there was ever a moment to not know when to quit, it would be now.

Graham: And once this little meeting is done, you can rest assured I’ll be filing a complaint to get you removed from your position. I won’t have to say why -- this probably isn’t news to you, but in the real world, my word will always mean more than someone like yours. Who would ever believe you anyway? You’re a fucking nobody. There’s a thousand other hopeless sob stories just like you. So I hope for your sake you’ve got new prospects lined up beyond your dead-end diner gig and your forever stalled college disgraces, because your run of handouts and gaming the system is about to come to a long-awaited conclusion. [ with a challenging eyebrow raise ] Any further questions?

Just one. Lucas takes a breath, maintaining an impressive calm… then looks Graham straight in the eye.

Lucas: Would you care to make a comment on the record about that?

Graham stares at him. What the hell? Now he’s fully spitting nonsense… only once the question registers in his brain, eerily familiar, dread slowly dawns on him.

Lucas: That’s all I’ve got, personally. [ nodding behind them ] They might have some for you, though.

Graham whips around, where the woman changing her tires has gotten to her feet. Only her tires are perfectly fine, and she was never fixing them. She’s an undercover reporter for ABC News, which she clarifies when she quickly retrieves her badge from her blazer pocket and flashes it before launching into a series of questions.

Reporter: Mister Graham, can you further elaborate on this alleged money scheme you used to fund your own personal extravagances? What policies specifically were drafted and voted on under the arrangement of a bribe?

The two college kids chatting in the car also aren’t just any random kids. They’re student reporters for NYU, the journalism connections Riley promised, and they’re equally as voracious as their seasoned counterpart.

Student Reporter: Do you often threaten college-aged young folks for engaging with the actions of the school board that you deem out of line? Or do you often repeat this pattern of retaliatory behavior in your other interactions on the board?

Student Reporter 2: If we report on this observed malpractice today, are you going to threaten us with violence as well?

Reporter: [ into her phone ] Yep, that’s the right one. 7740. You’ll want to bring the van -- I think the cameras will want to hear about this scoop.

Graham stares at them all, for once in his life completely caught unawares. He swivels back to look at Lucas, glare equal parts derision and disbelief.

Lucas simply offers him a smile.

Checkmate.

INT. UNMARKED VAN - DAY

Charlie releases an exhale that turns into a relieved laugh, tilting his head back against the wall of the van and shutting his eyes.

They did it.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Jade is far more in control of her mental faculties this morning, though evidently exhausted. She sips some orange juice while Yindra makes sure they have all their things, before Maya comes to meet them at the door and see them off. Jade thanks her sincerely for looking out for her last night, and letting them crash there unexpectedly.

Yindra: Yeah, how you handled it all was pretty dope. Suppose there is a little shriveled up heart in there under that plastic Barbie casing, huh?

Maya: [ flipping her hair over her shoulder ] Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But you’re welcome. You know us L.A. girlboss bitches have to stick together.

Only Maya Hart could say girlboss unironically and pull it off. Jade and Yindra exchange a look, managing not to laugh.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - DAY

As they’re heading out and Yindra calls an Uber, she asks where she should add the address for Jade’s place. She mentions her current set-up, with the AirBnB, to which Yindra’s eyebrows shoot up.

Yindra: An AirBnB? That shit has to be hella expensive.

Jade: It’s a very temporary situation, but yes. Hoping to move out ASAP, but to be honest, I’m dreading doing the apartment search. It’s like, I’ve got enough to figure out, and I’m not excited about living alone.

Yindra stops in her tracks, waiting for Jade to follow suit and turn to look at her.

Yindra: Girl. You should just move in with me.

Jade: What? [ a beat ] Seriously?

Yindra: Yes! OMG, save yourself the headache. I know my dad would be fine with it, in fact, he’d probably like getting to play substitute dad for someone else. Especially a daughter he can actually be proud of.

Jade: Okay, that’s…

Yindra: Kidding. Mostly. But not about the moving in thing. What’s the sense of getting some shoebox nightmare place you’ll hate all alone when you can crash with me? Granted, we’ll have to share a room, but that’s whatever to me. Kind of the whole college vibe in a way, which neither of us are getting otherwise.

Jade: I mean… that sounds really great. But I wouldn’t wanna impose --

Yindra: I promise, you’re not. Seriously, I would welcome the company. And someone has to make sure you don’t go too hard on the brownies.

Jade laughs, sheepish. She shakes her head, then thinks on it… before shrugging and holding her arms out. Welcome to Los Angeles -- what’s there to lose?

Jade: Okay. Let’s do it. And bless you for sparing me from having to apartment hunt.

Yindra cracks up and snaps her fingers in victory, surging forward and linking her arm through Jade’s. They stay linked as they continue their walk down the hall, giggling and eagerly discussing how they’ll reorganize Yindra’s bedroom.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - CREATIVE ROOM - DAY

Zachary is in the creative room on his own, quietly plucking away at the acoustic guitar. He obviously knows how to play, though he seems to be shaking off some of the rust.

Isa hovers in the doorway, not sure if they should interrupt him or not. When he finally lifts his gaze and sees them standing there, both of them awkwardly stare at each other as if they’ve been caught… then he offers a light smile to break the ice. He clears his throat.

Zachary: I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it, but I used to be pretty good at this thing.

Isa: Oh? No kidding.

Zachary: Yeah. Using that loosely, of course, in the realm of Hollywood. I could handle the axe, but a career in music was never for me. Mainly because I absolutely cannot hold a tune for the life of me. Didn’t stop my management from trying it in the late 90s, though.

Isa laughs, shaking their head lightly. They cross their arms.

Isa: Funny. I don’t remember ever hearing the Z.D. Roman bootlegs on Reddit anywhere…

Zachary: And you never, ever will. There’s a damn good reason for that. Just be glad you inherited your mom’s vocals.

True that. And how convenient, a Valerie mention just casually dropped in conversation… it seems like a white flag of sorts, a subtle apology for his aloofness earlier. Isa cautiously enters the room and comes to join him, sitting on the colorful block chair by the writing desk.

Now that they’ve officially settled, Zachary braves venturing further into the darkness. He strums a couple of chords.

Zachary: We used to play together sometimes.

Isa: Really?

Zachary: Yeah. Nothing serious, but just for a laugh. Trade some riffs, maybe I’d write her a guitar line or two and see what she could spin out of it. Left the singing to her, naturally.

Isa: She never really struck me as the collaborative type.

Zachary: Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. Valerie loved working with others. Especially creatives, so long as she thought they had the goods. But even then sometimes -- if she liked their vibes, she’d find a way to work with them. She had a vision and wanted it done her way, don’t get me wrong, but she always liked drawing in kindred spirits. So long as she could remain the center of attention by the end, she would welcome anyone into the process along the way if they had something to offer.

Huh. That’s a nice new layer to Valerie Isa didn’t have before. It kind of reminds them of a blonde best friend she used to have… and it’s cool to think about what Valerie was like at that age. Strange, but cool. It’s what they’d like to get more of.

If they can manage it. Zachary clears his throat again, bracing himself.

Zachary: I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. About… her. I know that’s a big part of why you’re here, and I don’t mean to disrespect that. Or brush it off.

Isa: I know. I think I’ve spent so much time absorbed in her melodrama, before and after death, I forget that most people aren’t used to working through the angst all the time. I wasn’t trying to push you. Though part of my personality is just inherently pushy, I think.

Zachary: I wouldn’t say that. And anyway, it’s fine. You’re right. In this case, you’re right. [ with a deep breath ] It’s just… yeah. It’s harder than I expected, after so much time.

Isa: I get it. It’s complicated. I just didn’t want it to keep us… stuck. I feel like it’s important for us to get past the shallow end of… you know, our thing, at least I want that.

Zachary: I agree. I want that too.

Isa: Cool. But I feel like if we don’t let her in, if she’s not allowed to… be part of that experience, we’re never going to make it there. We’re always going to be in the shallow end, because she is infused in the deep end of both of us. If we’re ever going to find out how to meet in the middle, for real, we need to accept that we’re going to swallow some Vale-chlorine along the way.

Isa isn’t sure where that metaphor came from, but they’re sticking with it. Zachary laughs along, nodding slowly. It won’t be easy, or perfect, but it’s necessary. And it will be good. For both of them.

Zachary: I think I can handle that. At least, I can try. [ a beat ] I haven’t forgotten any of it, you know. Even if it’s hard to talk about. Valerie… she makes it hard to forget her.

Isa: Trust me, I’m familiar.

They exchange smiles, bittersweet. After a moment, Zachary seems struck with an idea… then he gently starts strumming a couple of chords with actual intention.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Remember Me (Reunion)” as performed by Coco Original Motion Picture Soundtrack || Performed by Zachary MacNamara & Isa De La Cruz

Zachary eases into the reprisal track, calling back to the Val-tastic radio single that intruded upon their first hours together. Like an early reminder, an insistent nudge not to trip over the bedazzled elephant. Unlike Valerie’s rendition, however, this one is simple. Understated, authentic, sheepishly humble and sprinkled with emotion.

It’s an olive branch, extended from a man who wants to do this right. Who wants to rebuild with solid foundations. And who is willing to show off his not-so-stellar vocal skills to do it -- although much like Lucas James Friar, he’s really not as bad as he claims.

It works like a charm. Isa can’t help but chuckle, mirroring his sheepish smile. Particularly when his voice cracks, and he winces, making them laugh harder.

Zachary: Hey, I warned you, I really can’t sing --

He seamlessly continues into the next set of lyrics, Isa shaking their head in amusement. Then, when the second vocal line joins into harmonize, Isa does the same, returning the gesture of good will back to him and making it a duet. Neither of them as starlit as Valerie, nor at their performing best, but connected. Remembering, and looking forward. Sharing in the moment authentically.

Family.

INT. LOCAL NEWS DESK - DAY

Breaking news! The local news stations are covering the recent revelations about Graham, Yancy, and the Connelly campaign. It’s too soon to say how it will affect Tuesday’s election, but with it right around the corner, suffice to say it is a complete gamechanger to an already nailbiter election.

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

DAISY GARDNER and ROSIE GARDNER are watching the coverage while doing homework on the couch, only half paying attention. In the background, however, ELEANOR GARDNER is on full damage control mode, pacing the floor in the kitchen while on the phone with her church friends.

Eleanor: I was fully planning to vote that way! But after this… I mean, this is not what I consented to donating my money to. Obviously, I cannot vote for Hunter. He let Adams run totally wild, not to mention his personal -- the amount of times I almost pulled Charlie out of there. But I absolutely do not condone corruption. Everyone should know that. I’m sure you ladies don’t either. [ a beat ] Danielle. No.

So seems like Charlie’s instincts about his mom were spot on. And if she’s having strong second thoughts, conservative as she is, who knows what that means for the rest of the voting population?

Speaking of, Daisy glances up at the coverage, only to do a massive double take. Her eyes go wide, and she immediately slaps at Rosie’s arm next to her.

Rosie: Ow! What?

Daisy gestures wordlessly at the TV, where Rosie looks as well -- and her jaw drops open.

EXT. LIVE COVERAGE - DAY

Because briefly, on the scene, their brother Charlie Gardner is on live television. He gets caught by reporters as he leaves the parking garage trailing Omar, all of them immediately pouncing on him with questions. They want to know -- did he see the confrontation go down? Is he aware of this media storm? Does he have any information on who the mysterious man who got Jefferson to openly confess might be?

Naturally, Charlie is totally prepared for something like this -- which is to say, Charlie is a deer in headlights.

Charlie: Uhhh --

Seconds later, Lucas passes by behind him, having changed out of his flannel and into a jacket to be more inconspicuous and sporting a snapback again. He doesn’t even stop, just takes Charlie’s arm and yanks him along with him to escape the press.

Lucas, off-hand: No comment.

Just like that, they’re gone. And thankfully, more appetizing subjects appear moments later, such as Graham himself.

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

But Rosie and Daisy saw the part they care about. They exchange a look and then burst into laughter. What in the world?!

And what a wonderful, more just world it is.

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

The sun is starting to set when Vanessa and Zay finally come back together, both arriving outside the diner. Neutral territory, common ground, free from the tension of campus or the studio. At least, no more additional tension than what they’re already carrying between them.

They size each other up as they approach, but there’s no anger in their expressions this time. Just apprehension, a bit of embarrassment over how their last conversation went, and a whole lot of uncertainty. After a long moment of quiet, Vanessa clears her throat and speaks.

Vanessa: I’m sorry about how things went at the studio. It got out of hand.

Zay: Yeah. Me too.

Vanessa: I didn’t mean to say -- I would never say that shit about you. About your dyslexia. That wasn’t what I meant at all. I’m sorry if it came off that way.

Zay: No, I know. I know you didn’t.

He just went on defensive. They both did, too fast. Which begs the question -- how are they going to avoid it happening again?

Vanessa: This semester isn’t like last semester.

Zay: No. It’s not.

Vanessa: So… what are we going to do? I don’t think it’s going to get any easier, with auditions getting closer. And considering neither of us will even tell each other about our audition ideas…

Yeah. It’s suddenly so much trickier than it was just a month ago. Zay sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t know what the answer is. He’s so tired of not knowing the answer; of never seeming able to have a relationship just work.

Zay: I don’t know.

Vanessa: I don’t want this to… I care about my audition. And my chances. I’m not going to act like I don’t.

Zay: Appreciate that.

Vanessa: But I care about… this, too. I want to do right by it.

By them. It’s hard to find the words, but that’s what she’s trying to say. She needs it to work out, because what happens if it doesn’t? If they fall apart, what will everyone think? What will happen to her slowly expanding social circle? What will her father decide about her next?

Zay: Maybe we… maybe we need to just take some space. For a while.

Vanessa: … space?

Zay: Yeah. Like, just… keep our distance while all this is going on. Keep our heads on straight, work on our own stuff. Then, once the auditions are done, we’ll be able to just go back to normal. Danger zone avoided.

Logically, it’s not a bad suggestion. From a purely strategic perspective, it preserves their personal chances and the stability of their current situationship. No chance of tempers getting too heated if there’s never enough proximity to light a spark.

But even so, Vanessa can sense something is off about it. In her gut, despite how useless she thinks she is at stuff like this, she knows this shouldn’t be the right answer. She assumes, if they were as strong of partners as they should be, they’d work through the pressure, not avoid it all together. They’d find a way to disarm the bomb for good, not simply delay it with longer fuses. Theoretically, they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place, if they could just tell each other about their ideas without assuming the worst.

But the stakes are real right now, so that doesn’t seem to be an option. And this plan is better than nothing, or just blowing everything up, so she figures she has to take it. After a moment, Vanessa nods.

Vanessa: Right. Okay. Cool. So… guess I’ll see you when I see you. Then.

Zay nods, also stiff in the awkwardness of their plan. Still, he steps forward and manages to initiate a kiss, sweet enough in spite of the tension. Vanessa gives him a tight smile.

Then they each turn away, starting to head in their opposite directions. Only when he reaches the curb does Zay pause, feeling like he’s forgetting something. He spins back around.

Zay: Vanessa.

She stops, looking over her shoulder at him.

Zay: Good luck.

The thing is, he means it. He really does. Whatever complications it may be causing in their relationship, he knows how much Vanessa cares about this opportunity. In that respect, they’re twin flames.

Vanessa’s smile is more authentic this time. She nods.

Vanessa: Ditto.

In an ideal world, it’ll be the two of them moving forward as transfers. Hopefully, if they make this temporary space work, they’ll make it there without personal catastrophe.

But rarely does the world deliver ideal...

INT. PINHEAD THREADS - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Jade makes her way back into work on Monday, in good spirits in spite of her wild weekend. Once she makes it past the front desk, she’s basically accosted by Claribel, Carlos, and Waverly, who give her extensive apologies and express relief that she’s okay.

Carlos: I would like to formally apologize for my menty b being the reason we all ghosted and then lost you. Not to worry, I’m officially over that son of bitch, so it won’t happen again.

Waverly: It will. But we’ll make sure not to split up next time.

Claribel: Seriously, I was so worried when we couldn’t find you. I’m not sure if our texts were going through either? But we --

Jade: Hey, hey, y’all, it’s okay. Seriously. All good.

Jade assures them all ended up fine, and no hard feelings. It wasn’t their fault she wandered off, but the sentiments are appreciated. Claribel reiterates that she’s just grateful she ended the night safe, since she’s new to the city and everything. That would be the last thing they want.

Jade: Yeah. I’m lucky to know some pretty cool people.

And as her boyfriend would say, all’s well that ends well. She had fun, saw some things, and learned some important lessons (like no cosmic brownies!), so all in all a successful weekend.

INT. PINHEAD THREADS - LUZ’S OFFICE - DAY

And ultimately, a successful start at Pinhead Threads. When Jade sits down for her check-in with Luz, she confirms that she thinks it’s a good fit. She’s looking forward to really diving in, and she feels good about what this job might have in store. The feeling is mutual, as Luz is already keen about the work she’s turned in for review and ready to see what she does next.

Jade beams, eagerly diving into discussion about her first submissions.

EXT. GRAVEYARD - DAY

Zachary’s car pulls up next to a small graveyard, well decorated with trees and dedicated benches. If this was a film, it would be pouring rain and Isa would have a black umbrella to hold as they lead Zachary through the graveyard towards one in particular. Instead, in reality, the sky is clear blue and the sun beats down on them.

It’s a shame; Valerie would’ve loved the drama of a sad montage in the rain.

Despite Valerie’s fame, her memorial in this graveyard isn’t covered in many flowers and gifts. Instead, it has an aloe vera plant, a small bouquet of flowers, and a few cards that have fallen over. There is a substantial grave site for her in Hollywood, but this one is located in her home neighborhood. The flowers are left from friends who grew up with her; the cards are written in many different languages, representing the diverse corner of L.A. she grew up in. This was set up by Valerie’s parents, those who actually knew her, and it shows.

Isa figured coming to this more intimate, down-to-earth site would be more fitting. While they kneel down next to Val’s grave, Zachary hangs back out of respect.

Valerie De La Cruz Beloved daughter, mother, and friend Nov. 1980 - May 2020

Isa snorts a bit at the inscription, then places down a collection of pink carnations they brought along with the letter they wrote before their trip to L.A. They stand up the cards that have fallen over, arranging everything back into order.

After a moment, Isa turns to Zachary and nods for him to join them. He does, keeping his hands clasped behind him.

Zachary: Should I say hello, or… ?

Isa can’t help but let out a laugh at the awkwardness, then shrugs.

Isa: If you want to. Just do whatever feels right.

Zachary: Well… [ after a beat ] Hey, Val. It’s been a while.

He can’t seem to say anything else other than that for now. Isa looks between the stone and Zachary, then smiles, bittersweet. They throw him a bone.

Isa: You know, never imagined I’d be in the same place as both my parents. Guess this as close as I’ll ever get to that.

Ah… yeah. How about that. Zachary reaches out and places his hand on Isa’s shoulder. When they don’t shrug him off, but rather meet his eyes, he tightens his hand in a comforting squeeze. Isa notices tears in his eyes, so they look away, in case he wants to let them fall.

Zachary: Thank you for encouraging me to come here, Isa. I… I needed to see this. Say goodbye. [ to the grave ] Thanks, Valerie. We made some amazing memories together, and some not-so-great ones, but I’m grateful for them all. [ glancing at Isa ] I’m especially grateful for the greatest lasting memory you could ever give me, even if we never expected it.

Wow. Isa stands up, also a bit choked up. It’s a sweet sentiment, but a lot to process. They clear their throat, crossing their arms.

Isa: Do you want a moment alone?

Zachary considers it, but shakes his head.

Isa: Are you sure?

Zachary: Yeah. I’m good.

He says it calmly, self-assured, so Isa accepts it. The pair turn to stroll out of the graveyard, chatting lightly about some of their best memories of Valerie as they go. The time she invited Zachary to a date that turned out to just be her performing; the time she made Isa listen to the entirety of her new album so that they could pick the lead single for her; the way she refused to leave the house without a pair of heels on…

Remember me…

INT. LOCAL NEWS DESK - NIGHT

On local news coverage of the school board election, the two newscasters have just finished up a riveting recap of all of the public drama that has unfolded with the Connelly campaign over the last couple of days. Talk about an October surprise, just in February!

Newscaster 1: And apparently it doesn’t stop there -- we can report that based on the allegations and due to the viral commentary from board member Jefferson Graham, the NYPD has announced it is opening an investigation into current practices at the Manhattan School Board. So I suspect if any other members are truly engaged in some of the less than savory practices that these viral moments allude to, they won’t remain under wraps for much longer.

Newscaster 2: Just goes to show what you can accomplish if you care about your community and want to see justice done.

I don’t know if it’s quite all that simple -- no one has brought up the car chase or threats or convenient access to filing cabinets by getting an assistant position at the board -- but it’s a nice sentiment. Speaking of the rather anonymous heroes of this whole shebang, the newscasters take care to inform their viewers that there is currently a GoFundMe page set-up for the young man who confronted Graham to bring all of this to light, if anyone cares to donate and thank him for his service.

Newscaster 2: And this time, we can promise you, your money will actually go where they say it’s going. Ha ha ha.

Ha ha ha, local news… anyway, back to business.

Newscaster 1: And with that, right on time, it looks like the projections are in. Perhaps unsurprisingly, after all that has transpired, this news desk can project that Jackson Hunter is predicted to prevail in the Manhattan school board open seat race.

A photograph of smiling Jack takes up the screen, a little blue checkmark appearing next to his name. Projected winner!

As the top of a bottle of champagne pops --

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - NIGHT

Eric finishes up pouring glasses of champagne and handing them out, an intimate crowd of folks having come together to watch returns and now celebrate Jack’s victory. They did it! Along with Jack and Eric, SHAWN HUNTER and ANGELA MOORE are in attendance, as are HARPER BURGESS and her girlfriend STELLA CASTILLO.

And of course, the anonymous heroes themselves. Lucas and Charlie are both present, as well as Riley, and Zay, who is there on behalf of his father.

Each of them receive their glass and then Jack clears his throat, giving a brief speech to thank everyone for their support throughout this entire campaign. It wasn’t easy, and boy did it turn out even more complicated than he realized, but somehow, they pulled it off.

Jack: Of course, a large, large part of this is thanks to one Riley Matthews, who ran a pretty effing fantastic campaign basically out of her apartment. I can’t believe you’re only nineteen and it was just a year ago I was lecturing you in my office for kissing your boyfriend on school property --

Lucas: Okay, please --

Zay gags to himself, Charlie casting a glance at him and elbowing him pointedly.

Jack: But then I remember, yes you are that young, because you also somehow managed to teach me how to use TikTok. And yes, I will be deleting my account after this, thank you very much.

Okay, so due to the stress of waiting for results, Jack might already be a liiittle tipsy. But honestly, it’s way more fun that way. Regardless, his gratitude and words are genuine, and you can feel it. Riley touches her hand to her heart.

Riley: It was the least I could do. You deserve this role.

Hear, hear! Everyone claps, then Jack waves them down. He’s not finished yet!

Jack: And a special cheers to Lucas and Charlie, who managed to uncover a plot against all odds that I could not have even begun to fathom. I’m not sure what was involved in that whole journey, and I am fairly confident I do not ever want to know all of the details, lest I never sleep again worrying about you --

Lucas rolls his eyes, while Charlie smiles bashfully.

Jack: But you pulled off something truly remarkable. Not just for me -- though I am grateful -- but for so much more than this. For the people. For the good of Manhattan, and all of the students in it. That is a real act of service. Thank you.

Another round of applause, well-earned. Lucas and Charlie exchange a look, the former offering his signature knowing smirk. Charlie grins.

Jack: And there are one hundred more thank yous I could say, but in all honesty I am light-headed and overwhelmed and that cake is calling my name. Let’s dig in!

Please! Eric leans over and cups Jack’s face, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Shawn is more than ready for cake as well, working with Harper to start cutting it to serve.

As an aside, while they wait for their slice, Riley takes Lucas’s hand and leans in close.

Riley, softly: In case it wasn’t already obvious, you’re coming home with me tonight. Just so you know.

Um, hehe. Okay! Lucas clears his throat, but then gives her a smile, so he’s clearly not opposed to the suggestion. Lots to celebrate after all, it’s true!

At the same time, Zay comes over to join Charlie, hanging back a bit to let everyone else attack the cake first. They exchange smiles, Zay taking a moment to pointedly look Charlie up and down. When Charlie gives him an apprehensive look, Zay shrugs.

Zay: Sorry, sorry. Just trying to confirm -- yes, that is actually Charlie Gardner. Charlie Thee Gardner, Catholic demon darling of the upper East Side, just brought down the conservative corruption ring of the Manhattan school board. And all without breaking a sweat in his Gap jeans.

Charlie cracks up, sheepishly brushing some hair out of his face. Yes, he is a web of contradictions, and he never fails to surprise.

Charlie: Actually, there was a lot of sweat. Mainly the fear kind.

Zay: That I believe. But I think that’s just being Lucas Friar’s roommate.

Charlie: But yeah. I don’t know how well this is all going to go over at church over the next couple weeks, but… it was the right thing to do.

Zay: Long way from hesitating on a school protest, huh?

Charlie: Ha, yeah. Who woulda thought, right?

Zay: Nah. It’s always been in you. I’ve always known.

Well, gee… Charlie’s cheeks are rosy now. But he’s right. Zay has always seen the best of him, all the potential he had, even when he didn’t. That’s nothing new.

Zay: Honestly, I feel kind of silly being here considering I like, did nothing, but someone had to rep the Babineaux contribution. My dad sends his best.

Charlie: For sure. He was a huge help, seriously. I know it was a lot for him to just take me at my word, especially when his career was involved. He didn’t have to listen to me -- I wouldn’t have blamed him for not wanting to take the chance.

Zay: [ with a shrug ] He knows you’re legit. I’ve never given him a reason to think otherwise.

Charlie absorbs that, touched. Given all their varied history, it means a lot. Once the crowd disperses from the cake, they approach to get their slices, Charlie taking the care to cut it for them so he has somewhere else to look.

Once they’re plated, he manages to speak again.

Charlie: Well, still, the faith meant a lot. From both of you. Please tell your dad thanks for me.

Zay, nonchalantly: Nope.

Um. Okay, well, that’s rude. Charlie frowns, caught off-guard by the refusal. Then Zay lifts his gaze, a smirk forming on his lips, and he knows there’s more coming.

Zay: [ amused by his expression ] You can tell him yourself. Next time you come over for dinner.

Oh. Okay, well, that’s sweet. It shouldn’t be a surprise, since they’re still friends and everything, but even the prospect of getting another dinner at the Babineaux home makes Charlie’s chest feel warm. His smile is delicate.

Charlie, soft: Okay.

Zay mirrors his smile.

Then Riley interrupts, sliding in between them and pulling them into enthusiastic conversation. As the jaunty piano intro kicks up…

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST BEDROOM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)” as performed by Natalie Cole || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

Isa is settling into writing her last letter of the episode as the ensemble-serenaded montage takes us home.

Isa, voiceover: Dear Lucas. You know, for once, I think we’re gonna be okay.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - NIGHT

Her voiceover continues over some closing shots, starting with the election celebration. Spirits are high at the townhome, that relief and victorious feeling mixed with a bit of alcohol making for a truly celebratory mood. Everyone is happy, light-hearted, looking optimistically towards what the future holds.

Isa, voiceover: All of this is still new, and it’s imperfect. But I think I’ve finally accepted that new is kind of the default of life. How much am I running from every time I try to avoid it? What am I missing out on?

Jack pulls Lucas into a side hug and squeezes him tight, which Lucas only looks slightly uncomfortable with rather than fully; Eric and Shawn are thoroughly amused at how affectionate Jack is being on one too many glasses of champagne. Riley is engaged in lively chatter with Zay and Charlie, the three of them cracking up at something she said -- boy, does it feel good to have them both back in her orbit at the same time. The way it should be.

This will be an everlasting love for me

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

Farkle finishes setting up the picture frame Maya gave him on his desk, scooting a playbill from something he saw with Jordan to give it more central focus.

Isa, voiceover: Maybe letting change in can be for the better. Maybe it can lead to some pretty spectacular things.

He gets to his feet, heading into the hall…

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

But he’s alone. No one is home. Quietly, Farkle retreats back into his room.

EXT. BRUNCH SPOT - DAY

No one is home because Maya is actually out for once. She’s having brunch with Yindra and Jade, the former regaling them with an animated story that has Jade in stitches. Maya beams, just a bit surprised by how much she’s enjoying the new company.

Maybe, just maybe, this’ll be a recurring thing from now on.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST BEDROOM - DAY

Isa concludes writing, getting up from their desk seat when Milo appears in the doorway and beckons them. As they follow him through the house, the letter concludes.

Isa, voiceover: This whole thing has definitely not been like a film. There’s no obvious period to end the story, no neat and tidy resolution. But I’m starting to think that’s okay. I’ll have plenty of storytelling to do in my career; it’s kind of nice letting real life just… be. Whatever it is. Letting the universe do its thing, or whatever. At least that’ll spare you some more movie references you won’t understand. See, can’t change be nice?

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Isa arrives downstairs with Milo, coming to join the rest of the MacNamara clan in the living room.

Isa, voiceover: Anyway, I think I’m done writing letters for a while. For now, I want to try and focus on just living the chaos, rather than trying to analyze it to pieces. Things are going pretty good, and I don’t want to miss it.

Isa plops down onto the couch between Milo and Ruby, accepting the popcorn bowl from the latter. As they debate which film to watch, Louis hovers in the doorway before sulking away on his own. But no focusing on the angst right now.

Isa, voiceover: Congrats on your takedown on Graham by the way, not that I had any doubt you could do it. Guess my filmic advice comes in handy sometimes. I’m not sure when I’ll be home just yet, but when I decide, I’m sure you all will be the first to know. But as always, just hit me up if you need me. And please don’t defile Riley too much while I’m gone -- it’s still my apartment!!

When they settle into watching the movie, Isa glances around them, an authentic smile blooming on their face.

Isa, voiceover: Until next time, Dora.

For now, we’re living in the moment. And for now, the moment is pretty damn swell.

That’s a wrap, folks.

END OF EPISODE.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “AMBITION Special Credit Roll” || Similar to “The Incredits” as performed by Michael Giacchino

Due to the unique nature of this episode, with the thematic film genre nods, animation, and special effects, a specially crafted credits sequence rolls at the end that stylizes it more like the end of a film. The music, as evidenced by the similar track, is definitely themed mainly towards the faux Lucas & Charlie Hastings saga thriller.

(And maybe there’s some behind-the-scenes footage or bloopers interwoven throughout. Who’s to say).

Until next time, and welcome back to AMBITION Season 4!

#s4 #408 #this ep was a fucking monster. welcome to the rodeo!!!!#episodes

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