_
In four short months, I had evolved.
I'd gone from "that girl who tried to kill herself"
to "that girl who had a date on New Year's Eve."
You want another chance?
I won't screw up again.
I came with Jake.
But you can stay with me.
I chose Jake, and now we can't be alone
without Matty tagging along, trying to tempt me.
The whole situation is weird.
I hate to admit this,
but Matty might be trying to home wreck you.
- Nice job, McKibben. - What?
You are totally sabotaging them.
Ricky's the missed connection!
He's her what?
Ricky?
Ricky!
You really are the fool.
Ask Matty-- he had a piece of your Hamilton pie
long before you did.
Okay, McKibben, time to come clean.
Please don't do this.
Uhh!
I fucked your girlfriend!
We've decided not to let
a girl come between us.
So you need to choose--
him or me.
Maybe the timing's finally right.
We're going to Europe!
Too late. The trip's full.
I took the last slot.
- I made out with Jake. - I made out with Jake.
You have a trip. I'm not going.
My spot is yours.
I finally got what I really wanted.
But I wasn't sure it was what I needed.
Junior year.
Junior year was like the Thursday night of high school,
and the beginning of the end.
I was growing up.
Victoria had finally let me in on her secret.
Padding. Lots and lots of padding.
But, underneath it, I was actually blossoming.
Changing.
And the thought of it made me--
Nervous?
No. Yeah.
Probably just first-day jitters, right?
What are you nervous about?
I don't know.
But I did.
I hadn't seen Tamara or Ming all summer.
Either they were out of town or I was,
and when I wasn't...
I was wrapped up in my cocoon,
my cocoon of Matty.
I had disappeared into my relationship,
and forgotten about my friends.
Ready?
Can't we just stay here?
Nope. It is time to be--
Independent study.
That's the elective I signed up for,
not creative writing.
Can you fix it?
What do you think about the metamorphosis?
Pretty chic, huh?
Love is a game changer.
Is she still hung up on Ricky?
Good one.
Although I wonder if Ricky has anything to do
with why Tamara and Jake aren't online official.
But any day now. Right?
Right. I knew that.
But I didn't.
I didn't know anything about Tamara's life.
What about you? Where have you been all summer?
Working for my grandparents in Moorpark.
It's like the pit of the Earth.
But I learned Mandarin.
You finally speak Chinese?
Ix-nay on the Chinese-ay.
Mafia is everywhere,
and they can't know what I know.
It's all about the long play.
Gotta go!
I'm gonna get the deets on the new 'do.
Normally, we spend hours debating a simple trim,
and suddenly, she had hacked and whacked
without even a text.
Maybe it wasn't me that had forgotten my friends.
Maybe it was my friends that had forgotten me.
My girl.
Thankfully, some things never changed.
Su cabellaes muy bonita.
Or they did.
Sync and corrections by n17t01 www.addic7ed.com
Yeah.
- It's your girl. - "T."
Oh. "J."
Thought you were my new girl.
She was going to stop by
to help me pick the best pics from Europe
to tag before class.
She is such a character.
You know, sometimes, I just can't get her off the phone.
- You guys talk on the phone? - Like it's my job.
Which it sort of is,
since she's listed as my sister on Facebook.
- So whatcha need? - Help.
I've been put in Creative Writing
- for my elective. - And?
And I didn't sign up for it.
- No, I did. - Why?
Because it's an excellent class,
and very hard to get into.
Mr. Hart reads a lot of submissions every year.
And he's a very tough customer
when it comes to the written word.
- But I didn't write a word. - He read your blog.
- But my blog is private. - Ha! Right.
But when it wasn't,
I printed out a copy or two.
You know, for work and home.
Sometimes I need a good, angsty soap
to put me to sleep.
Oh, and I might have sent one to my mom,
who may or may not be Team Matty.
You can tell her that he is now firmly on Team Jenna.
Excellent word play.
See, you are totally going to meet the challenges
of Mr. Hart's class.
I don't want a challenge.
Wake up, Jenna.
This is your junior year,
and it is time to evolve, change.
Fine, you want to be a wuss?
I'll sign you up for something wimpy,
like Drama.
Going once...
Maybe Valerie had a point.
Going twice--
Maybe I needed a change.
I'll stay in Creative Writing.
Good. Now, you're gonna need this.
Mr. Hart can be a real ball buster.
Apparently, so could my conscience.
It was time to see if my friendship with Tamara
had changed along with her hair.
I can't believe you cut it.
I know.
But after being abroad and seeing how the other half lives,
I am forever a different person.
Europeans are amazeballs.
As in, stress the "balls,"
'cause that's what they smell like.
But they call it "musk,"
which is just so sexy, you know?
No.
Well, it's hard to explain unless you've been there,
but the Euros just have this je ne sais quoi.
French.
It's like an individuality thing,
which is the mantra of this year.
I want to be original.
And although I'm not brave enough
to roll without roll-on,
I thought that changing the flair of my hair
was the next best thing.
So you really put a lot of thought into it.
Actually, there was no thought.
It was totally impulsive.
That's why I love the Spaniards.
Everything is so sera sera, you know?
Not really.
Well, if you did know,
you know know that they are a people of spontaneity,
which is also something that I want to embrace.
I am letting go of having to define things in my life,
like my style or my relationship.
I don't need to DTR anymore.
But I still did,
and I needed to know if we were still besties.
Which is really cool, and I actually have
a lot of questions about that,
because there's something I want to share.
What's happening?
Walk with me.
I think I need support.
And a tampon.
Aunt to the flow.
You finally got it?
- Yes. - And I did, too.
I was getting that I was being sidelined...
and left behind.
Ming, this is sotres magnifique.
You're a woman.
Hooray.
And we're all cycling together.
The Italians call it simpatico.
Or maybe it was the Spanish.
Either way, someone cute said it.
Here.
It's not my time.
Oh, Europe must have thrown us off.
Europe wasn't the only thing throwing us off.
Our lack of connection was, too.
Suddenly, my stomach felt...
...unsettled.
That was bizarro ungaro.
- What'd I just miss? - Sadie.
Someone stole her tongue.
And replaced it with a bun...
in the oven.
Rumor has it, she's pregnant.
Change was everywhere, even for Sadie.
And apparently, the entire school
was trying to confirm the father of the sperm.
Ricky Schwartz. It's his.
What the hell am I supposed to do
with Ricky's credit card?
He said to buy something nice, anything you want.
He loves you.
How many times do I have to tell you
to tell him we're done?
I have bigger fish to fry than him.
Are you going to eat your pickle?
You're eating a lot.
- So? - You miss him.
I know he misses you.
That's why he came in to get froyo for you
every day at my shop.
It was a waste.
Like his life.
But now you have a life that isn't a waste.
- What? - Baby-- Sadie.
He's trying to make it up to you,
and I don't know what to tell him
every time that he cries.
Tell him to die.
God, I need to puke.
That's your lunch?
The French keep it light,
which is why they can eat whatever they want.
It is all about moderation.
What Tamara needed to do was moderate the Euro brag.
Where's Ming?
She's eating with the mafia today.
She's trying to reconnect with them,
since she's been gone all summer.
Speaking of reconnecting,
there's actually something that I wanted to tell you.
- TT. - Jacques.
- Pixelize us? - Pixelize us?
Mm.
Oh, not my fave.
Show Jenna our selects from the trip,
and see which ones she likes best.
Uhh.
It would be hard to choose.
Personally, I think the one in front of the Trevi Fountain
encapsulates the whole experience.
That's the one we should use for the profile pic
on our page.
Wait, "our" page?
- We created our own Facebook page. - We created our own Facebook page.
- Je t'aime. - Je t'aime.
Jacques, we're being rude.
Jenna was just about to tell us something.
- Tell us. - Tell us.
"Us" was not who I wanted to tell.
I'm in Creative Writing.
With Mr. Hart?
Ugh. He's a sadist.
But not you. You're a lover.
- Oh, mi amor. Je t'aime. - Je t'aime.
I was starting to feel floored
by how much I was ignored.
But if flying under the radar was my new forte,
then being invisible was going to have its benefits in class.
You!
Who the hell do you think you are?
What do you mean?
I mean, who are you?
A student in your class.
Wrong. Only I can assess that.
Okay, everybody look to your left.
Now everybody look to your right.
The people sitting on either side of you
will not be there at the end of the year.
Yes?
That would mean that no one would be in class.
And that's exactly what happened in 2009.
Yeah?
Can I use the bathroom?
Can you? Probably.
May you? No.
There's no breaks in this life.
There's no breaks in this class.
If you have to be human,
do it before you walk through my door
or after you leave.
Because while my name might be Mr. Hart,
I don't have one.
Everybody understand?
Now, who are my quitters?
Leave now before you suffer the consequences of staying.
You? Let's go. Go, go, go, go!
Go, go, go! Go, go, go!
Take her with you.
Hi.
Are you a crier?
Yeah.
You know what rule number one is?
There's no crying in this class!
Now go! Go, go, go, go, go!
Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!
For everyone else who's here, let's get down to brass tacks.
You all think you know who you are.
I don't care who you are.
I want to know,
who do you want to be?
Now, some of you may think that you're good writers,
'cause you write witty little musings
about taking a dump on your Facebook wall,
or you whine about your feelings on your blog.
That is not being a writer.
Writing is about conquering your fucking fears.
It's about putting onto paper
the thing that you are most afraid to share.
Now, for your first assignment,
I want you all to write about your greatest fear.
And like the little pussies you are,
don't worry about putting your name on it.
Just write it down.
Okay, before we dissect all this bullshit,
I need you guys to look at those release forms I passed out.
I want you to bring those home tonight,
get your parents to sign them, _
or don't come back. _
- This guy's a trip. - And a nut.
Maybe my parents would forgo their permission
so I could be released to take drama instead.
Okay, so let's see what kind of losers we have this year.
"I'm afraid of failing."
Well, you don't have to be afraid anymore,
'cause if that's the best you got,
you've already failed.
Get out of my class.
Next one.
"I'm afraid of my suicidal thoughts."
Do we have a potential Hemingway in the class?
Probably not.
Oh, here's a nice one.
"I'm afraid I masturbate too much."
You do. Don't be so obvious.
"I'm debating my fear of life and death,
and wondering if it should be my choice."
I guess we have a lot of suicidal tendencies here, huh?
Which might be a good thing,
if you're as cliche as your fears.
Now, does anyone want to go for the gold
and really own your fears?
Ah, my first suck up. And you are?
Collin.
I'm not admitting to anything.
I just wanted to point out that you were wrong
about the one that's debating life and death
and whether it should be a choice.
That's not about suicide.
So what's it about, Professor?
Being pregnant.
For once, I felt a connection to Sadie.
If the rumors were true,
she was about to be branded and left behind
as her friends moved in a different life direction,
like me.
Sadie?
Yeah?
I just want to say that whatever's going on,
just know that the universe doesn't give us
what we can't handle.
- Really? - Absolutely.
What do you know about life, Jenna?
Nothing. You've experienced nothing.
All you know is how to braid your hair.
So if you want to throw a pity party,
do it for yourself.
You're lame.
And that is never going to change.
Oh. You're welcome.
So maybe Sadie was still the same.
Or maybe it was the hormones.
As requested, I have brought you home,
and walked you to the door.
Do you want me to come in?
No, you're going to be late for practice.
Better go.
Then you're going to have to give me back my hand.
Everything okay?
Yeah.
No. It's been a weird day.
I'm starting to feel like I made a mistake
not going away this summer.
Who needs Europe
when you could have the same experience
buying a "Beer of the World" sampler at Trader Joe's?
I just feel like a different person,
and I'm scared.
Of what?
Being alone, forgotten.
Hey, you are never going to be alone.
Okay? You have me. Mm-hmm.
- Never say never. - Never.
Mom, I'll call you later. Jenna just got home.
Yes, I promise not to wrinkle my forehead anymore.
No, I am not wrinkling it now.
Jenna, am I wrinkling my forehead?
Mm-hmm.
Jenna said no. Love you, bye.
Your nana is the one who makes me wrinkle my forehead.
Uh, where are you going?
I want to hear about your day.
- Not much to tell. - But you're a junior.
Didn't it feel even a little bit special?
Nope.
How's Tamara?
Did she have a good time in Europe?
I guess.
We didn't really get a chance to talk.
I take that back.
We had a couple conversations,
but they were pretty one-sided.
She looks good, so--
That's all that happened today?
There is a girl in my class who might be pregnant.
Do I know this girl?
Yeah.
Do I like her?
Well, it depends on the day.
Well, you should be nice to her.
A girl in that situation
needs all the friends she can get.
- Can I go now? - Mm-hmm.
_
You must have been reading my mind.
I was just about to call you.
Really? 'Cause I've been worried.
Me too.
We have never gone this long without talking.
Which is my fault, and I should have called sooner, but--
- He's not into me. - What?
It's been three hours.
Jake and I are in constant contact,
unless we're sleeping.
Matty must have said something to you.
Tell me. I am a big girl.
Hold that thought.
I am such a geek of a freak.
It's Jake. Call you later.
Oka-- uh...
bye.
With so many things changing,
some things were still the same.
Once again, I was blogging,
or whining, if you will, about my woes.
But there was something that I didn't want to admit,
and yet, desperate to share.
It had nothing to do with forgetting my friends
or them forgetting me.
It was something forgotten one summer night,
a momentary mistake that I had filed under denial,
a secret that could change everything.
Because I was the one debating a fear
of life and death,
and I was the one wondering if it should be my choice.
Because I didn't know what I would choose...
if I was pregnant.
- Did the condom break? - Well, um--
Did you even use one?
No. It was just one time.
It only takes one time.
I wasn't thinking.
I was just caught up...
In the moment? I know.
I've been there.
I'm too nervous. I can't read it.
Okay, don't be afraid.
If you're pregnant, chances are,
you'll only be nauseous for a month.
- Ugh, a month? - Or three.
But the delivery happens lickety-split.
Unless it gets stuck in your underdeveloped hips,
and then it could take much longer.
But you'll only have to sit on a donut pillow
for a couple of weeks,
which is totally okay,
because you probably won't want to eat solids for a while.
It's hard to poop.
- Oh, God. - But a baby is so amazing.
Once you get some sleep.
God, I think the sleep deprivation
was worse than the delivery.
I couldn't see straight for months.
I really shouldn't have been driving
with an infant in the car.
Mom, you are not helping.
I'm sorry, honey.
Don't panic.
If this is history repeating itself,
then I will support whatever you decide,
and we will get through this together.
There is no decision, mom.
I'm here because of you.
And if this is history repeating itself,
then this baby is going to be here because of me.
Are you going to pass out?
I might.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
You know what's funny?
What?
Last year, after you found out
that I wrote the letter,
I was worried that once you left home,
you would never come back.
And now, with a baby,
you'll never leave.
Mom!
I'm kidding.
You can leave any time you want.
And I'll babysit.
Oh, my God.
We're having a baby?
Okay. Okay.
We are not having a baby.
I'm not pregnant.
I never said you were.
Then why did your mother call me
to recommend a good prenatal vitamin?
Because you're going to have a baby... someday.
Okay, I was worried.
People have been talking,
and you've been eating a lot,
and throwing up, and--
And so what?
I've been under a lot of stress
and full of anxiety.
- About Ricky? - No!
Fuck Ricky.
I'm broke, okay?
My parents lost all their money,
and if anyone finds out,
I might have to go to another school.
Do you want me to tell Ricky?
Ricky is dead to me.
That makes two of us.
Jake and I DTR'd last night.
I thought you weren't about defining anything this year.
I was posturing.
I am way too self-absorbed to be laissez-faire.
And, honestly, I was just so afraid
that Jake and I were never going to French outside of France
that I was pretending I didn't need to be commit-legit.
But who am I kidding?
I was totes in secret spiral city
until I knew nothing was going to change.
I know the feeling.
- "J," I'm sorry. - For what?
I've been so up in my own grill
I've been totally MIA from you.
And I forgot to call you back last night.
So tell me what you were going to say.
- It's no big deal. - Tell me.
Seriously, it was a false alarm.
Tell me.
Okay, but brace yourself, because--
It's awful, it's terrible, it's true.
Ricky Schwartz es muerto.
He's dead.
Next, onAwkward...
It's for a vigil, tonight.
We're gonna pay tribute to Ricky.
Or converse with the devil.
Vigil? I love it.
Matty was YOLOing.
I'll just tell Matty about the scare,
and we can be extra-careful.
Everyone just needs to step off their sad bus
while some of us are actually mourning.
I'm not pregnant. Totally thought I was.
But I'm not.
So...