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AMBITION Season 4 ♫ “New Start (Part 1)” [ 4.01A ]

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

NICE TO MEET YA, WHAT’S YOUR NAME? — Isadora and Nigel’s expectations for NYU face reality, while Riley battles expectations closer to home. Farkle, Zay, and Jade brave new worlds of their own and test their resolve. Entirely new faces bring brand new narratives, and everyone confronts the question essential to college, career, and the rest of your life: who are you? And perhaps more important, who are you going to be?

73 Minutes (36K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Summer Of ‘21 ] [ S4 Synopsis ] [ New Start (Part 2) → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Close on our ever-familiar moodboard, populated with photos of our beloved main cast, Adams souvenirs, and the usual creative inspirations (right now, it’s populated with Sara Bareilles and Aly & AJ, among others).

RILEY MATTHEWS passes by it in a flurry, gathering things together in preparation for the impending week. She seems excitable rather than anxious, with just a hint of nerves, but ultimately her mood is buoyant. She places a potential outfit on the bed, assesses it, then changes her mind and doubles back to the closet.

Riley: Dora? Dora!

She heads to the door, zooming by the calendar on the wall. As we zoom in close, the reason for all the commotion becomes quite clear. A date circled multiple times over in purple, only a weekend left preceding it:

First Day of College!!

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Riley spills out of her room, finding ISADORA DE LA CRUZ seated on the couch with headphones on. Working on a final film viewing for a class – trying to get as much done ahead of time as possible.

Riley: Dora. Isadora. Dooora. [ louder ] Isa!

Isadora jumps, double-taking when she realizes Riley is standing there waiting for her.

Isadora: What?

Riley: Have you seen Lucas’s blue flannel anywhere?

Isadora: Why would I have seen it?

Riley: It’s the dark blue one. You know, with the worn cuffs?

Isadora: Aren’t they all like that? He only owns like two kinds of shirt.

Riley sighs, slipping into the kitchen to grab some water. Prepping for the beginning of the rest of your life is thirsty work!

Riley: I was thinking I’d wear it on the first day. You know, for comfort, on multiple levels, but also it’s cute if you repurpose it. You know, a bit of a DIY, casual vibe.

Isadora: Right. Sure.

Riley: But maybe it’s too early for that. I don’t want to be the girl walking into class like “hey, I have a boyfriend,” you know? [ turning off the faucet ] Though maybe that wouldn’t be a bad message to send, actually. Not that I’m expecting like, copious suitors.

Isadora: Right. Sure.

Clearly, after three months of living together, Isadora has learned sometimes it’s better to just let Riley talk.

Riley: But at the same time… no. No, I feel like I should go slightly more professional for the first day. Especially the major classes. You know what, I’ll just wear the flannel on Saturday. Although I still have to find it first –

Isadora: Sounds good.

Riley: You remember the plans for Saturday, right? Everyone, Chubbies, one last hurrah.

Isadora: Yeah, of course. Not like you would let me forget.

Riley gives her a playful glare, which Isadora matches with a wry smile.

Riley: I mean, won’t quite be the same without everyone there, but – oh! That totally reminds me, I need to text Farkle. He’s had his first week and I’m dying to know how it went. [ offhandedly ] I mean, I’m sure he’s told you all about it, but don’t tell me. I want to hear it for myself.

Isadora: … right. For sure.

Riley rushes back to her room, still muttering about outfits and flannels, leaving Isadora alone. She reaches for her phone and unlocks it, going to her messages and scrolling a bit…

To where she finally finds her thread with Farkle. And by the looks of it, no, Isadora is not up to speed on what’s going on with him. In fact, it seems like they haven’t talked in days, Farkle having sent the most recent text over two weeks ago. One that Isadora forgot to answer in the moment that now feels way too old to address.

That does pose the question, though – how is Farkle doing? As the first brave warrior to embark on a collegiate quest, and three-thousand miles across the country at that?

INT. USC - FILM LECTURE HALL - DAY

A dramatic orchestral opening floats in, setting up the elite, extravagant world of USC. It seems quite serious and important, a darkened screening room lit only by the lights of a projector and populated by shadows of students as a bespectacled, important-looking professor lectures on about something filmic and oh so serious.

That is, until we find FARKLE MINKUS at the center of the seats. The reflection of whatever’s on the screen illuminates his face in pale light, highlighting his blank expression. It’s hard to tell what it is exactly – boredom? Irritation? Nothing at all?

The actual opening of the looming performance disrupts all the above, matching Farkle’s ennui and throwing us right into reality.

I want it to be like, messy!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “brutal” as performed by Olivia Rodrigo || Performed by Farkle Minkus

The classroom lights come on as the lecture ends and the grungy guitar begins, Farkle rising from his seat and making a swift escape as the other students filter out. Right before the verse kicks off, he pushes through the doors –

EXT. USC - FILM SCHOOL - DAY

And into the immaculately cared-for campus, bright L.A. sunshine seeming almost oppressive with the current mood. Farkle launches bluntly into the song, singing almost entirely and somewhat unsettlingly to the camera in an unconventional fourth-wall break. Perhaps because he’s very much baring his soul, wiping the concept of a perfect, cheery first week of college right off the map.

On the lines about “I’m so caught up in the news of who likes me and who hates you,” he looks to his phone, scrolling through his messages app. Maya’s name is right at the top, Isadora’s much further down where his texts remain unanswered.

EXT. USC - BING THEATER - DAY

On the chorus, Farkle takes to the courtyard outside Bing and Norris theater, dancing a precarious line along the edge of the fountain at the center as he belts out the lines. In contrast to the familiar cocoon of Adams, no one seems to pay Farkle’s dramatic monologuing any mind – in fact, it’s like he’s not even there, normal USC students making their way along around and behind him as he jumps along the edge of the fountain.

EXT. USC - CAMPUS - DAY

For the second verse, Farkle continues his stare down of the camera while walking along Trousdale, the main fairway for cross-campus trekking at USC. He swerves to avoid other students, speeders on skateboards and ruthless bicyclists, like he’s totally invisible. Just another speck in a student body of over forty-thousand.

Somehow, it’s when you’re least noticeable that it feels like your insecurities are most on display for the world to see.

The second chorus is split between the fountain and Trousdale, splitting back-and-forth in a near disorienting degree. Farkle split between trying his best to blend in and keep it all in, to appear totally unbothered, and spilling his emotional guts all over campus in the free-wheeling style he’s so used to.

All this is abruptly interrupted when he’s literally barreled into by a bicyclist, knocking him off his feet and sending his phone flying across Trousdale and cracking on the concrete. Farkle doesn’t even seem surprised, only slightly dazed and remarkably deadpan when he sits upright and looks dead at the camera.

God! It’s brutal out here.

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

Farkle jumps off the fountain’s edge and marches his way towards Bing Theatre, the same one he and Maya snuck into in the special. He darts up the steps as the grunge rock carries us home, slowly devolving back into the eerie orchestration again…

INT. USC - BING THEATRE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle makes it in time for his second class of the day, one of his theater classes, just as the song winds to an end. He finds a seat in the center of the section, isolation emphasized by the other pockets of peers seated around him yet nowhere close. He sings the last few lines while looking around him, confessing to his broken ego and broken heart – for any number of reasons – and then he lets his flat expression drift back towards the camera, singing right at us.

God, I don’t even know where to start…

Thankfully, Farkle, we do. And boy, is there a lot of story to tell. Welcome, my dear friends, to AMBITION Season 4.

Cue title sequence.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Even if she’s not yet also in class, Riley seems to be busy as ever. She has her phone pressed to her ear as she reenters the apartment with a tote bag full of groceries.

Riley: So you’re going to be there? It’s only going to be fun if everyone is there. I know weekend before classes start, everyone is a little bit ah, but I just think –

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

Reclined on his bed, NIGEL CHEY smiles in amusement at Riley’s babbling. He tosses a hacky sack with one hand while they chat.

Nigel: Yes, Riley, I’ll be there. It’s not like showing up to Chubbies, the place we all congregated for four straight years, is asking much of us.

Riley: And Jade too, right? I know she’s busy –

Nigel: Yes, Jade too. You caught her on a weekend and planned this weeks in advance, so you hit the two criteria necessary to secure her attendance. It’ll probably be the first time most of you have seen her since, what, July?

Riley: I know the apprenticeship is keeping her busy, and with good reason. I don’t want to step on that.

Nigel manages a smile at that, but it’s slightly dimmer than before.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Riley continues her explanation as she starts to unload groceries.

Riley: I just feel like, you know, this is our last weekend. Before everything… takes off. And I know it’s not like that makes much of a difference, we’re still in the same city and will see each other plenty – especially you, me, and Dora, since we’re going to the same school.

Nigel: You might get sick of me, yes.

Riley: Not possible.

Nigel: Ask Zay and Yindra, I’m sure they can attest.

Riley: [ with an eye roll ] The point is, I think we should be together. One last time before all this stuff really gets going. I know like, so much of our usual circle is already scattered, but for those of us that are still here…

It would be nice to hold onto what’s left. To solidify their bond to one another by coming together to celebrate, one more time. Nigel has no arguments about that, thanking Riley for taking the initiative as always. He’s looking forward to seeing everyone Saturday night.

Riley exchanges chipper goodbyes with Nigel and then hangs up, finishing putting the groceries away before she shifts focus. If they truly are going to be seeing “everyone,” or as many everyones as they can manage given the current state of affairs, there’s still a few people left to confirm their attendance…

One of whom she wishes felt more guaranteed than it does. She’s clicked into her message thread with Lucas, where the exchanges are relatively sparse and almost always brief. Mainly quick updates about his whereabouts or when he’s supposedly going to be back – informational with little embellishment, but one can assume they simply talk more in person.

Of course, that only happens when he’s actually there. Riley chews her lip and types out a new text, not having had an update for the last couple of days.

“Everything okay? Are you going to be there tmrw night? Love you”

Riley hesitates, starting to delete the last phrase… but then she opts to keep it. How things are going these days, she figures a reminder never hurts – if not for him, then for her. That it’s okay for her to keep affirming it, that what the two of them share isn’t a cause or casualty of the way things are right now.

She hits send, already impatiently waiting for a response.

Shawn, pre-lap: So we’re just going to do nothing?

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

It’s remarkable how time marches on. The only remnants of our beloved A class who once so dominated the halls are the senior showdown trophy in the display case, and their freshman year class portrait hanging on the main wall amidst dozens of others. While their frames were damaged last year during the vandalism, they’re back in pristine condition now, hung proudly for anyone who enters the school to see.

It’s strange to see versions of our kiddos so young and fresh-faced arranged along the atrium staircase, considering how much they’ve grown since then.

But now, they’re just decoration – the background set dressing to the new Adams students roaming the halls. The current student body is making its way through the doors at the end of the school day, having officially wrapped up their first week of the new academic year.

ERIC MATTHEWS is posted outside the main office, waving goodbye to the students and congratulating them on a great first week. He’s all smiles, but just barely, as SHAWN HUNTER irritably breathing down his neck with an obvious axe to grind is really harshing Eric’s whole got-everything-under-control-as-new-principal vibe. He murmurs through his smile.

Eric: Can we talk about this later?

Shawn: Sure. Absolutely. Not like it’s already been a clusterfuck long enough. [ after a beat; checking his fake watch ] Okay, it’s later.

Eric’s smile sharpens, and the side-eye glare he shoots him could kill. It’s a look Jack would be impressed with, particularly directed at his half-brother.

Eric: Remind me why I haven’t fired you yet.

Shawn holds his glare, unperturbed. Clearly, he’s not backing down on this discussion.

Eric sighs, offering one more wave to the students before spinning on his heel and heading back to his office. Shawn follows swiftly.

INT. AAA - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY

It’s not just the slug line here that’s getting a change. The principal’s office looks different than we last saw it, an evolving hybrid of Eric’s former counselor’s office and the heightened grandeur and professionalism of the highest leadership role in the land. It’s also half-finished, Eric still in the process of getting everything organized how he wants it – partially because he’s still figuring that out for himself.

HARPER BURGESS makes her way past the office after collecting things from her faculty mailbox just as Eric and Shawn are coming in. She offers Eric bright congratulations for surviving his first week as principal and doing a great job. Eric thanks her, but the cheer only lasts as long as the time it takes for Eric to get to his desk.

Shawn: What is wrong with you?

Eric: You know, you’re bold, Shawn. Most employees with your performance record wouldn’t have the gall to question someone else’s sanity or ability. Didn’t you hear how nice Harper was just now? Why can’t you be more like Harper?

Shawn: Come on, Eric, cut the crap. Let’s actually talk about this, yeah? I want you to explain why you’re vetoing a perfectly good idea.

Eric sighs, falling back into his chair. He lets Shawn roll, gesturing for him to go on. And he does, fully serious without a hint of irony or sarcasm.

Shawn’s suggestion is simple and compelling – offer Lucas a part-time job at Adams while he’s in this in-between situation, just while he gets back on his feet and waits out the Kenneth situation. It’ll give him another way to make an income, and more importantly, it’ll give him a place to be and something to do. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, and they have the power and means to help keep Lucas off that path.

Shawn: You’ve heard what Riley and Isadora have said. You know Lucas just as well as I do. He’s adrift. He’s stranded without a tether to pull him back down to Earth, while everyone else gets to go off and start something new. It’s dangerous to be adrift, Eric – I would know that better than anyone.

Eric nods, conceding that point. Sad as it is, it’s true.

Shawn: So I’m saying, let’s give him that tether. Let’s give him a space to balance while he reorients. Just like we did for me, when I needed it.

Eric: You’re basically still reorienting, Shawn.

Shawn: He needs stability. He needs a reason to show up, for anything, and more than that, he needs money. Because when all this is done, whether Kenneth croaks or not –

Eric: Please, let’s not…

Shawn: [ carrying on ] He’s going to Davis. We’re getting him there hell or high water, and he’s going to need money when he does. So the solution seems obvious to me. If we give him a place here, then that’s two birds, one stone.

Clearly, Eric sees this logic. He sees it, and doesn’t disagree… but still, he hesitates.

Eric: We still have the board on our backs. Now that Graham has basically instituted unofficial oversight over everything under the guise of “vetting the new administration” –

Shawn: Fascists.

Eric: I don’t think they’re going to go for this idea. It’s been hard enough trying to pick a replacement for me that they’ll sign off on. And you know how they feel about Lucas, which is very close to how they feel about Jack. If he wants even a chance of picking up Morris’s seat when he gets back –

Shawn: Fuck that. If it helps Lucas, Jack would want you to do it. You know he would.

Hard to argue with that. Eric knows he can’t.

Eric: Have you told him about it? Any of Lucas’s –

Shawn: Hell no. Jack’s supposed to be on vacation. He hears about this, you know he’s taking the first plane back. No sense getting him all stressed out any earlier than necessary.

That, Eric easily seconds. But without Jack’s knowledge, the hard choices remain up to him…

Eric: He might not even want it. Lucas couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Shawn: Then he doesn’t take it. Fine. At least we’ll have offered. [ sincere ] At least we’ll have done something.

And something is a whole lot better than nothing. Eric absorbs that, thoughtful, torn between the compassionate instincts of his former role and the new requirements of strategy and logic that come with his new one. Especially now that he is the one who has to call the shots.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Farkle returns from class, pausing in the entryway as he catches a whiff of something strong. It’s a bit hazy in the apartment too… and there’s a weird sort of humming…

Of course, there’s only one obvious explanation.

MAYA HART is in zen mode, a couple of candles and incense burning around her makeshift yoga studio in the middle of their compact living area. She’s dressed in a cute sports bra and baby pink leggings, signature glossy blonde hair tied up in a ballerina bun. The strange humming is coming from her, as rather than meditation, she’s basically humming scales as she does yoga poses on her pink mat. It’s kind of like… diva honing, and she participates in it with much aplomb and concentration.

She seems to have adapted to L.A. without a hitch – at least the guru culture lifestyle. It’s clearly not the first time she’s done this, as Farkle doesn’t appear at all fazed.

Farkle: I see we’re channeling again. What’s the scent this time… is that… Spears sandalwood? Or no [ sniffing pointedly ] Val vanilla, more like –

Maya: Shh… Farkle… your aura is so erratic. You’re disrupting the flow.

The flow of what, no one could probably say. But Farkle relents, raising his hands in surrender and dropping his bag by the door. Maya gracefully lowers herself into a backbend.

Farkle: Apologies, I can’t help myself. I was born this way –

Farkle jumps when Maya suddenly lets out a high-pitched trill, blowing air through her lips as she changes positions. So apparently, this weird routine she has going on involves other vocal exercises as well. She’s collapsed herself onto the mat and has rolled back into a sitting position, beckoning for Farkle to join her.

Maya: What you need is a cleanse. Come, come.

Farkle rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile on his face. He dutifully comes and joins Maya on the mat, settling into a cross-legged position across from her. She leads him in a deep inhale, then an exhale… before starting to guide him in some sort of bizarre imitation exercise. Like, they’re basically doing the age-old theater class thing of mirroring, only on a yoga mat as if its some sort of sacred practice.

You have to give Farkle credit for playing along – no one can humor Maya Hart’s brand of theatrical quite like him.

Farkle: Is there a reason for this Mayoga session?

Maya: We’re on weekend lockdown, darling. This weekend, it’s all about honing, honing, honing. Mind, body, vocal chords –

Farkle: Technically part of the body, I think…

Maya: And soul. Because next week, everything changes.

This is because, as she goes on to explain, the time has finally come to debut Maya Hart to the world – or at least, Hollywood. She’s got a whole slate of auditions, open calls, and potential meetings lined up, and she knows one of them is bound to hold her great start. She’s rested and recharged, and now she’s ready to break out diva Maya again and take this town by storm.

Some of these auditions, we learn, she caught wind of… by aggressively bothering the agency where Jonathan Turner works. Farkle frowns, shaking his head as he allows Maya to cross their arms around each other.

Farkle: You really should not be doing that. You’re going to get me blackballed just for knowing you.

Maya: Listen, if they don’t want me calling, then they should get a new front desk assistant. By the time I was on my third call, she was very nice, and told me everything I needed to know. If they’re so concerned about protecting their potential projects from determined talent, then they should put better protocols in place. No one in this industry ever got anywhere by waiting around.

Farkle: Make sure to tell the security guards that when they drag you off whichever studio lot you stake out first.

Maya: And it’s all about who you know – which, thankfully, I know you. And you know this agency, which is more than enough for me to work with.

Yeah, suppose that’s true… though it might feel more like it if Farkle felt like he actually knew them. He reached out to Turner a week or so ago, before he started classes, but he’s yet to hear anything back.

Maya: I wouldn’t worry. One week is nothing in L.A. time.

Farkle: Yeah… yeah, I know. I just…

Worry he might have staked his whole future on a potential partnership that may have already evaporated? Well, too late to worry about that now. Maya waves off his concern, picking away at the air around him as if she’s removing the pests from his aura. Then another deep breath… she places her hands on his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

Maya: Stand tall, Farkle. You and me, we’re going to get everything we want.

It’s at least nice, amidst all the change, to have his weirdo best friend by his side reminding him of that. Farkle manages a smile, exhaling with her. Besides, as Maya points out, they’re doing everything right. And they’re doing it with style – in this industry, certainly, it could always be worse.

INT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

Depending on your definition of worse, that might just be where YINDRA AMINO is languishing these days. She’s working another shift at the musical diner, right now swamped with the busy lunch rush. These days, she’s actually spending more time there than out on the streets booking gigs.

And it shows. Yindra seems bone tired as she takes another order and breezes her way back towards the kitchen, customer service smile dropping from her face the moment she’s turned away from the table she’s working. It’s odd, seeing her usual radiant visage so dimmed.

At least it’s almost break time. Yindra checks the clock, then exhales in relief, pushing through the employees only door.

INT. PERFORMING DINER - BREAK ROOM - DAY

Yindra opens her locker, carefully extracting a couple of items for break. Notably, she leaves her phone, even though it’s lighting up with a couple of messages.

She closes the locker again, sending us into black –

EXT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

Until the bright L.A. sunshine brings us back, reflecting bright off the white pages of the notebook Yindra is scribbling in. Writing song lyrics, by the fragmented looks of it. Scraping together whatever she can in the fifteen minutes she gets during shifts – she’s usually too tired after work to get anything productive done.

She’s joined by her coworker, YOLANDA, who has become an ally over the last couple of months. She’s taking her break as well, doing the more classic overworked wannabe star routine of catching a smoke rather than jotting down meaningless words. Everyone copes in their own ways…

Yolanda asks her how it’s going, asking her to read something off the page she’s on now. Thought she seems a bit reluctant, Yindra obliges, offering up a couple of lines. Yolanda mulls them over, then offers some critique, suggesting a turn of phrase here and a tweak there to make it less overwrought. Yindra likes it and makes the change, thanking Yolanda for the feedback.

Yolanda: It’s what I was born to do, baby. I could’ve been the next Beyoncé, mark my words.

Yindra: I like the idea of it, but I’m really meant to be singing songs, not writing them. I’m not much of a lyricist.

Yet, here they both are, doing neither of those things. Not yet, at least – Yolanda claims there’s still plenty of time for Yindra. Based on Yindra’s half-hearted smile, it doesn’t feel that way.

Right now, they’re both out of time. It’s time to get back to work, the FRY COOK popping his head out to let them know break’s over.

Fry Cook: The Joneses are here for lunch. You know Harold isn’t going to let up until he gets his rendition of “Rock Around The Clock.”

Both women seem thrilled about that… Yindra tucks her pen back into her notebook and follows Yolanda back through the doors, back to the relentless grind of food service.

As a order-up bell dings –

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

It’s another coast, another day, a different diner, but same routine. Chubbies is busy with its Saturday morning rush, JOE shouting orders at people as he brushes past them doing his managerial business. He notices that the team seems a bit short-staffed this morning, though…

All it takes is a glance at the schedule on the bulletin board by the door to the break room to figure out who’s missing. And Joe almost didn’t need to look at the schedule to know – these days, if someone doesn’t show up, you only need one guess to figure out who.

Joe: Hey! Anybody heard from Friar?

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DYLAN’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite the former inhabitant himself being dozens of miles upstate, Dylan’s room looks about the same as we last saw it – photos of Asher, the techies, and Riley stuck up on the wall; untidy and unmade bed; doodles and random sketches of potential vlog videos strewn on the desk. The only thing missing is the St. Bernard, Mr. Puff almost as palpable an absence as Dylan himself.

This time, though, the unmade bed isn’t his fault. It’s because it was just occupied, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR just finishing tucking some things back into his backpack and slinging it on his shoulder. Last night, the Orlando home seems to have been his refuge of choice.

He looks just about the same as the brief glimpses we got during the special, only now he’s at least shaved, so perhaps that’s some minuscule indicator of progress. And for as generally worn as he appears, the despair has trickled out of his features, so even if things haven’t improved much he must have accepted them.

Whether that’s for better or for worse remains to be seen. Lucas quietly steps out of the room.

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DAY

Lucas creeps his way down the hall towards the front door, slipping past the kitchen and living area. But he’s not nearly as invisible as he fancies himself – RANDALL ORLANDO pipes up from the kitchen where he’s washing dishes.

Randall: I know you’re not walking out of my house without taking some breakfast first.

There’s a pause… and then Lucas sheepishly reappears in the doorway to the kitchen. Got ‘em. He offers a timid smile as Randall gestures for him to take some of the food on the counter.

If you’re gonna squat in his home, gotta play by his rules. Lucas takes a piece of bacon and a buttered piece of toast, munching on the former while Randall asks how he slept last night. He knows he’s not there every night – though it’s evident he could be and Randall wouldn’t mind – but if there’s anything he wants or needs while here he should not hesitate to let him know.

Unlikely Lucas is going to do that, but he does thank Randall for letting him crash. Randall waves it off, asking how things are going otherwise.

Randall: How’s your mom doing?

Lucas: Um… no yeah, she’s… she’s fine. Yeah. Bout – bout the same.

It’s unclear if Lucas is being wishy-washy and avoidant in his answer because he doesn’t really know, or doesn’t want to share, or if that’s just the way he talks. There’s an even chance of it being any or all of the above. But since most people don’t seem to know where he is at any given moment these days, it’s more than likely that means Grace hardly sees him at all.

Given who else is now back in their apartment, maybe that’s not so surprising. But Randall doesn’t push the subject, changing topics and asking what Lucas has on his agenda for today. Not just more roaming, hopefully… and yes, in fact, Lucas has plans.

Lucas: I should get to Chubbies – I’m already late, and Joe’s patience is only going to last so long. Then there’s like… I don’t know, Riley’s got some thing she wants to do, so. I’ll probably stay there tonight.

As long as he’s got a safe place to shelter, suppose that’s all you can ask for at this point. Lucas thanks Randall again and sneaks another piece of bacon before heading out. Randall watches him go... then grabs his phone to send a text.

The recipient is none other than Grace Friar, who seems to have a rather long ongoing chain with Randall even if the message content is pretty brief and a variation on the same handful of things:

“Lucas just left. Should be at Riley’s tonight.”

So even if Lucas isn’t very up to date on Grace, she apparently is on him.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Lucas makes his way down the streets of Chelsea, heading towards what is becoming an increasingly familiar apartment building. He hovers by the steps for a few moments until someone steps out of the building, waiting until they pass him and then just catching the front door before it closes and locks him out.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

He must have left Randall’s bright and early, because Riley is still dozing off. Someone, likely Isa, shouts from the living area for Riley to get up since she should be the one answering the door. Riley waves her off, brushing some hair out of her face but not making any actual moves to get up.

Riley: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m… awake…

Yeah, maybe not quite. Either way, she’s rather adorable half-asleep, which is clearly what Lucas thinks when he softly steps into the room and finds her still in bed. Not that he was really expecting otherwise, but the light smile on his face gives away his endearment regardless.

He carefully slips off his shoes and then comes to settle on the bed next to her. The shift in weight is enough to tip her off to his presence, a smile blooming even before she opens her eyes.

Riley: I hope that’s who I think it is, or else I’m going to have to break out the self-defense martial arts.

It’s obviously a joke, considering she’s more than used to his quiet comings and goings. Lucas shrugs.

Lucas: Maybe. I kind of want to see the martial arts though.

Riley giggles, lightly throwing an elbow back to jab him in the torso. He retorts by rolling closer and planting a quick kiss on her cheek over her shoulder, which is enough to win her over. Riley flips onto her other side so she can face him and opens her eyes, smile effortlessly bright at the privilege of getting to see him again. Lately, that’s not always a guarantee.

Riley: Hi.

Lucas: Morning. Sleep okay?

Riley: Not as good as I would have if you were here. [ off his eye roll ] But genuinely, kind of not really. I think it’s excitement insomnia. You know, two days left ‘til NYU, so I’m getting all jittery.

Lucas: No coffee today, then.

Riley: I was this way with Adams too. Like, first day of sophomore year. I think it’s just that with it being new and all it’s like there’s so many possibilities that my brain can’t sleep because it needs to process them all. The hypotheticals.

Lucas: I guess that’s fine. Better than being worried about it.

Riley: Yep. And you know what, Triple A turned out amazing and gave me all my favorite people – including my most wonderful boyfriend –

Lucas: Might be a bit of an exaggeration.

Riley: So I’m choosing to believe NYU will be the same. Only good things to come. So many new lovely people to become favorites.

Lucas: With you, I don’t doubt that. Though ideally not another boyfriend…

Riley gives him a look, lightly nudging him again before pulling him towards her and into a kiss. It lingers and melts into another one, languid and sweet – given that Lucas feels so hard to pin down these days, when she’s got him, Riley will take whatever she can get.

But based on how content she is to kiss him, yeah, the risk of another boyfriend entering the picture seems basically nonexistent.

Speaking of favorite people, Riley comments that she’s excited to be getting at least some of them together tonight before the chaos of a new school and semester consumes everyone and everything. She confirms that he’ll still be able to get them into Chubbies – which he agrees, noting that he needs to get going as he only stopped by on the way to the diner – and then follows up by asking for his attendance. He is going to be there with them, right? He’s not just going to set them up and then bounce?

Although it seems like socializing isn’t very high on Lucas’s to-do list right now (or ever, for that matter), after a moment he promises he’ll be there too. Given his flickering presence most days, it’s the least he could do.

And it clearly pleases Riley to hear it. She rewards him with another quick kiss, then sets him free to go stay out of the danger zone with Joe.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Isadora checks her appearance in the mirror hanging above her dresser. She frowns at her reflection as she tries to get her hair to sit right, but grows more and more frustrated as the strands of hair refuse to do what she wants. Her hair has been cut short, the longest of it reaching her jaw. She also has choppy bangs, and the top half of her hair is black while the bottom is deep green.

All the impending change makes Isadora want to have control over something in her life. Hair is the easiest (and theoretically, least catastrophic) thing she’s got.

From the open laptop on the desk comes the sound of a video call ring. Isadora darts over, a mix of nervous and excited. It’s the first time she’s actually seeing Chai since she left for London. They’d texted, of course, and sent voice messages when it was easier to talk than type, but no chance yet to talk face-to-face.

When Isadora accepts the call, CHAI FRESCO’s face appears on the screen. As soon as Isadora's video connects, Chai’s eyes go wide in surprise.

Chai: Your hair!

Isadora: Oh, yeah… I cut it. Did I not show you before now?

Once Isadora had turned her head so that Chai can see the haircut from various angles, Chai compliments the new look.

Chai: It really suits you! What inspired the sudden change?

Isadora: I just wanted a new look before the semester starts.

Chai: Oh, yeah. That’s this week, right? [ off Isadora’s nod ] You must be so excited. I don’t start for another week or so. My summer course is finished now, too, so I’m just super bored. I can’t wait to start.

Isadora shares her own excitement about the upcoming week, explaining the film classes she’s going to be taking. Chai nods along, not particularly interested in all the nitty-gritty detail, but still fondly smiling at Isadora’s passion for the subject.

Upon realizing that she is talking a lot about herself, Isadora asks Chai how things are on the other side of the Atlantic. Chai talks about her roommate, who’s due to move in in a few days, and everything else that’s going on in her life, like new friends and the upcoming Freshers Week at her university.

Chai: Anyway, enough college talk. How are things going with Maya? Are you still not talking?

Isadora grimaces at the topic, but allows it. Chai is one of the best people to vent about it with, since she’s one of the only people who doesn’t try to convince her to reach out and be forgiving -- all Eric and Riley seem able to advise. She knows in theory Lucas would be willing to listen to Isadora’s complaints about Maya, but he’s hardly around when she’s there to see it these days.

Chai, however, is more than willing to listen to Isadora’s grievances without telling her to “be the bigger person” and “let go of the anger.”

Isadora: I haven’t really been talking to Farkle either. It just feels really awkward and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him.

Chai: I mean, you don’t have to talk about the Maya-shaped elephant in the room. You could just ignore it and talk like you would’ve if Maya hadn’t gone out there.

Isadora: That’s what we’re already doing, but it just feels off. Like, the Maya elephant is there, and ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. But we can’t talk about it either. I don’t want to make Farkle feel like he has to pick a side.

Chai: Maybe you should ask him how he feels about it all.

Isadora immediately shakes her head, strongly opposing the idea. Something within her doesn’t want to know how Farkle feels about it. What if he tells her she’s being ridiculous? What if he defends Maya? Or tries to convince Isadora to make amends? She can’t take the risk. The lack of communication now is better than discovering that Farkle has taken a side -- Maya’s.

The date doesn’t go on for too much longer, as it’s quite late over in the UK and Chai keeps yawning. They exchange goodbyes and well wishes, then Chai hangs up, mouth wide open in the middle of a yawn.

The ended call screen shows that they were talking for only 19 minutes. Longer than they’d been able to message for over the past few weeks, but definitely not as long as either of them want.

Isadora closes the window with a sigh. At least it was something.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Chubbies is officially closed for the evening, Lucas pulling down the shades on the windows. He flicks off the light switch for the “open” neon sign.

But the party is just getting started. Lucas doubles back behind the counter and disappears through the kitchen… returning moments later with company after letting them in from the back entrance. Riley is leading the charge, in eager conversation with ZAY BABINEAUX. Then follows Isadora, Nigel, and finally JADE BEAMON.

The gang’s all here! Well, at least, the New York crew! Jade exchanges a quick hug with Isadora and compliments her new hair. Riley gathers them around the counter at the stools while Isadora bullies Lucas into getting them glasses -- she’s brought the liquor from their apartment, and they need something to drink it out of.

Lucas: I already don’t have school. You trying to get me fired too?

Isadora: You know damn well if Joe was going to fire you, he would’ve done it ages ago.

Zay: Yeah, like maybe for your absolutely tragic tableside manner.

Jade: True.

Lucas: Why did I let you in?

Zay: [ not seriously ] Seriously, no jokes, have you ever gotten a tip? Genuinely asking.

Lucas: That’s none of your business, but I’ve got a tip for you. Where did I put it… oh, yeah, it’s right here --

Lucas pretends to search his pockets and then retrieves a middle finger, special just for Zay. Riley playfully disrupts their banter and shoos Lucas to go get the glasses, Zay rolling his eyes while Nigel laughs at his expense. Riley declares there will be no bickering tonight -- it’s celebratory vibes only, as they share this final Saturday of non-collegiate freedom together.

Yes, much waiting for them on the horizon… and while it’s clear there’s nerves around the group, ultimately, they seem excited. Hopeful for what their new worlds hold, eager to jump in and start walking the path to the rest of their lives. Riley says as much while giving a rallying little pre-toast, Lucas returning with the closest thing the diner has to shot glasses.

Riley: I just want everyone to know how proud I am of you and how super excited I am for all the cool things that we’re doing. I mean, cool fashion apprentice, three NYU stars-to-be, an elite dance school artiste --

Zay: Not technically in the elite dance school yet, but yes.

Riley: I’m just saying, this is a pretty cool crop of people -- to say nothing of the people who aren’t here because they’re already off doing very cool things. So I wanted to say I love you all, and cheers to whatever is about to come.

Hear, hear! Lucas has finished pouring drinks, everyone taking their cup and raising it before knocking back the alcohol. Jade claims she appreciates Riley’s positive energy -- there’s not a ton of it out there in the real world. It’s refreshing, and definitely what they need more of. Nigel concurs, thinking of Riley’s outlook like… manifesting. If they go into it with high spirits, believing things will happen for the best, then what’s gonna stop them?

Lucas looks particularly unimpressed by all this chatter, but he keeps it to himself. Zay carries on with the thread, declaring that the future is in their hands and they do have the power to see it through. Challenges come his way, he’s ready for it.

Zay: No making the same mistakes.

Isadora: No self-sabotage.

Nigel: No underestimating ourselves.

None of the above! It’s optimism and success only in this Chubbies tonight, and we’re manifesting the dream. This is their chance, the start of everything, and it’s enough to get all of them revved up. You can feel the musical senses tingling…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Shot” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux, Isadora De La Cruz, Nigel Chey, Jade Beamon, Lucas James Friar, and Riley Matthews

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

It’s Zay who breaks the barrier and bursts into song first, launching us into this absolute modern classic and ode to young ambition. The lyrics here have been specifically divvied up and reworked (given our kiddos aren’t singing about the revolutionary war), so it’s definitely worth following along.

Zay and Isadora split the opening verses, the others joining in to echo them on the first chorus. Then, when they’re each explaining their lofty goals and dreams for the year to come, Lucas refills their glasses so that they can take a pointed shot once they’ve concluded their part.

Still, at some point, the dissonance becomes too much to bear, and Lucas simply must chime in. He takes the cynical Burr part, coming off aloof and slightly snarky as he warns them that they better calm down with all their hopes and dreams (“geniuses, lower your voices…”). As far as he sees it, they can talk all they want, but if they’re not careful at some point, the universe is gonna hear them and feel the need to knock them down a few pegs -- or in other words, they’re “gonna get shot.”

Riley takes his teasing at face value, lightly nudging his head from where she’s seated on the countertop next to him. She counters his pessimism by highlighting again what each of them bring to the table, how special all of them are, that if any crop of people could accomplish everything they want it would be this one. She riles herself up in her affection and excitement, basically barreling through the words until she has that moment of trained self-reflection, pulling back on it since she’s been ridiculed for it in the past.

Oh, am I talking too loud? Sometimes I get overexcited, shoot off at the mouth I never had a group of friends before, I promise that I’ll make you all proud

This group of friends, tellingly, is not going to ridicule her. They’re all endeared by her enthusiastic ranting -- Lucas more so than anyone, even with his cynicism -- embracing her quirks and happily jumping up to join her in the excitement.

Then the five of them take over the diner, dancing along the floor with each other and vibing to the performance. Even Jade is in the groove, dancing with Nigel and playfully spitting verses with Isadora -- though pointedly still no singing solos for her, for fair reason. By the time they’ve finished hyping each other up to rise up, they’re on the table tops, singing to the ceiling.

Rise up, rise up!

Then they freeze, the lights in the diner seem to dim, and the spotlight is on Lucas. Watching removed from the rest of them, not living in this same moment, trapped in the past and more consumed by that fact than he lets on. He takes the Hamilton free verse at 3:52, the self-expression existing in his head just like his last free-verse monologue in 206.

And as hard as he’s trying to tamp all his emotion down, to not care about it or forget this is his reality, the unfairness and frustration and wistfulness of it breaks through anyway. That’s what causes the emotional build through the verse -- the way that even though it’s over, even though it should be simple to go back to the way things were before and embrace his old cynicism, he can’t. Because he’s felt the rush of potential, knows how it feels to be excited about the future and realize he’s capable of more, and now that he’s tasted it, it’s like he can’t ever go back.

But I can’t help but think past tomorrow!

Then the real world resumes, and the others take back over, carrying through the energy to the end. It’s great to see them all performing again, so bright-eyed and eager about what’s to come, to have even a fraction of our A class still together as they adventure forward.

They wrap it up back at the stools by the counter, approximately where they started. Riley throws an arm around Zay’s shoulder and calls for one more rallying cry, prompting the echo that concludes the iconic number.

And I am not throwing away my shot!

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

The calendar on Riley’s wall has progressed again, all the days before the fateful first Monday of classes now crossed out in purple gel ink.

All things considered, Riley seems pretty calm. She’s showered and prepped everything for tomorrow well in advance, wet hair braided over her shoulder, so now all there is left to do is wait. And she’s spending that time wisely, using it to talk to one of the people who couldn’t be there yesterday night but already braved his first week.

Riley: So it went well? You think it’s gonna be a good semester?

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

Farkle is crashed on his bed, the last dregs of sunset still leaking in through the window and emphasizing the time difference between their two worlds. Although we saw a very different picture at the start, Farkle downplays his dissatisfaction with Riley. He simply shrugs, managing a convincing enough smile – he did used to spend all that time practicing it in the mirror.

Farkle: Nothing a little Minkus innovation and some Triple A grit can’t handle. The theory classes are going to be a bit dry I’m sure, but the theater ones should be pretty good. And I’m really excited about my music class.

Riley: Nice, that’s awesome. And how were the other people, anybody seem cool?

Farkle hesitates. How do you say you don’t know because you couldn’t figure out how to talk to anyone without sounding like a total loser? And how can he be expected to make new friends when it seems like he can’t even keep the attention of his old ones without actually being there in person?

Farkle: No competition for the likes of Adams, that’s for sure.

Riley: Well, who is? So long as there’s no adorable quirky brunette there to become your new Riley.

Farkle: You know damn well that’s impossible.

Well, maybe… but it never gets old hearing it. Riley smiles, shrugging her shoulders cheekily. But yes, their class was most definitely a unique crew, as being together last night can attest… Riley gives Farkle the quick lowdown of the gathering, and tells him to send them all best wishes for tomorrow because as confident and pumped as they might be, nerves still abound.

Sure sounds fun to have been together. Farkle promises he’ll send good thoughts, not that his have ever done much for anyone including himself, but his true melancholy bleeds through when he comments on how fun it must’ve been having one last hurrah.

Farkle: Wish I could’ve been there.

Riley tilts her head, offering a sympathetic smile. She wishes that too – she wishes they all were there, that even with all the growth and adventures they’re about to have they could do it as a team the way they spent the last four years.

But to dwell on it just makes it ache more, so both of them move past it without further comment. Farkle uncertainly starts to ask about Isadora, like he isn’t quite sure he wants to hear about her for himself, but he’s cut off mid-question when Riley’s attention is preoccupied by noise in the apartment.

Riley: Oh, I think Lucas is back. [ in a murmur ] Honestly, I’m kind of impressed he’s here two nights in a row.

Farkle: He been jumping around a lot?

Riley: It’s…

Riley shakes her head, not wanting to get into it. She’s fine with how things are – she has to be. Lucas is coping, and right now that’s all she can ask of him.

Riley: It’s fine. But sorry, I totally cut you off. What were you going to ask?

Farkle pauses, Isadora’s name on the tip of his tongue… but he opts not to continue. Riley clearly has enough going on with Lucas and NYU, he doesn’t want to add to it by inadvertently roping her into whatever is going on with them.

Farkle: Nevermind. I forgot.

Farkle claims he should let her go, Riley assuring him she’ll keep him updated on all the NYU developments of the week and wishing him luck with his second week of classes. While she has him, she also quickly sneaks in the chance to nag him about the time capsule – he’s one of three people who still hasn’t given her his items. She wants to bury this thing sooner rather than later, or it’s going to be ten years before they even get it in the ground.

Farkle assures her he’ll think about it – now that his semester is off and running, maybe he’ll have more brain power to devote to it. Once he satiates Riley for now, they say goodbye, Farkle left staring at his broken phone screen. He turns it off with a sigh, slouching back against his headboard.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Lucas steps into the room just as they end the call, Riley greeting him happily. He’s pretty muted this evening, tired, so he doesn’t have much to say, but it’s clearly a comfort to be back in Riley’s presence. He collapses onto the bed next to her and closes his eyes, listening as she tells him about her schedule for tomorrow and what the first day is going to look like.

When she asks about his plans, and they seem pretty open-ended (that is to say, nonexistent), Riley gently treads the topic of the part-time opportunity at Adams. Lucas doesn’t seem too keen about it, but she points out it would be nice for him to have something consistent to do during the day, in a place that he knows is safe and familiar. And if it makes him be around more consistently, well, all the better. Not to mention it’s another great way to save money, which he’s going to need when Davis rolls around in the spring again and his deferment lapses…

Lucas: [ with a snort ] Yeah, cause that’s still happening.

Hm. Very optimistic of you, Lucas. Riley clearly isn’t thrilled with this sarcastic response, frustration visible on her face only because he’s currently got his eyes closed. It’s obvious she wants to rally him out of this funk, this ambivalent resignation to the way life is now, but there doesn’t feel like a good way to do that without hitting a nerve or being overbearing. He already feels so fragile in her grasp, like one wrong move and he’ll float away for good.

So she has to settle for gentle nudges. She clears her throat, doing her best to keep her voice reasonable and even.

Riley: I know it doesn’t seem like it now, because it’s so far off and things are… how they are. But who knows what will happen in the next few months. I just think when the time comes and you get the chance to go, you don’t want to end up in the same situation as last year because you didn’t let yourself prepare for it. Just because other people and things are getting in the way of your future doesn’t mean you have to let them decide it for you.

Fair point. And Lucas knows she’s right, despite how hard it feels to believe it right now. He opens his eyes and glances at her, taking her in. She really is being so patient with him, and he knows that too…

Riley: Just think about it. Sleep on it and tomorrow, you can decide whether you want to go or not. You know Eric won’t hold it against you either way.

Lucas: … okay. Yeah, okay.

A maybe is better than a no. Lucas gets up and claims he’s going to get ready for bed, Riley nodding and letting him pass her. When he’s at the door he glances back at her again, thoughtful, then doubles back.

Lucas: Hey.

Riley lifts her gaze as Lucas approaches, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. A quick thank you, a reassurance for something he can’t quite put into words, a way to convey one of the many things he’s shit at articulating but knows he wants her to know.

And she gets the message. Riley smiles, taking his arm and squeezing lightly. She lets her fingers trace down to his hand as he slips from her grasp and heads out of the room, leaving her alone.

When she slouches back against her pillows and looks towards her calendar, some of those aforementioned nerves creep into her expression. And another thought seems to strike her, thinking about who she got to be with yesterday and who won’t be there tomorrow. She remembers what other thing didn’t feel quite right about the night before.

She grabs her phone from the mattress and pulls up a different message thread, shooting off another text.

“One more night til classes!! Got everyone together last night to celebrate and it felt v weird without you. Wish you were here but hope you’re having so much fun in Italy”

INT. WATER CLOSET - DAY

Riley’s text comes through, the recipient’s phone on silent and merely glowing where it’s precariously balanced on the lip of an old-fashioned porcelain sink. When the message comes through, we see the local time on screen – 6AM. The faucet is running, a familiar pair of hands with a couple of rings rinsing under the water.

We pan up, and there’s CHARLIE GARDNER, quietly freshening up in the mirror. To be frank, he looks good – a summer abroad has treated him well, the varied European cuisine having no adverse effect on his dancer’s build and all the sun gifting him with a healthy-looking tan.

We can really see it considering he’s presently not wearing a shirt… which also gives us a clear view of his cross necklace, still reliably hanging around his neck -- class ring still threaded and dangling right next to the holy symbol.

Charlie splashes water on his face and then fusses with his hair a bit – not quite at its usual length given the trendy European cut he was given earlier in the summer, but on its way there and noticeably more windswept and laissez-faire than its ever been – before grabbing his plain tee and pulling it on over his head.

One more glance in the mirror, then he’s out. He grabs his phone and slips it into his pocket, creeping out of the bathroom.

INT. NAPLES FLAT - DAY

Charlie moves around the flat cautiously, obviously trying not to make much noise as he slips on his shoes. A bit strange, walking on eggshells in your own apartment…

But that’s because it’s not his place. That becomes abundantly clear when he’s caught in the act of making his exit, an unfamiliar voice startling him when they address him in lightly accented French.

Man: [ in French ] Going so soon?

Charlie exhales, sheepish smile sliding onto his lips as he looks over his shoulder towards the door to the bedroom. There, a young, shirtless, very cute Italian man – tall, dark, and handsome would be apt descriptors – is eyeing him with curiosity and amusement. This is GIANLUCA (20).

French seems to be their chosen language in common, their respective English and Italian not quite good enough to cover both of them and French offering just enough mutual understanding to get across the important bits. Such is the life of being a young cross-country European traveler… and it’s also clear that despite Charlie’s not-so-secret escape, the two of them have a relatively easy rapport. This is likely not the first time Charlie has snuck out of Gianluca’s flat, to his bewilderment and entertainment.

Charlie politely explains he has to head out, and that he was being so quiet only because he didn’t want to wake him. Gianluca obviously doesn’t buy a word of that, but isn’t bothered by it, mostly just intrigued by why this attractive yet very strange American boy does anything he does. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

Goes without saying, but the remainder of their exchange takes place in subtitled French.

Gianluca: You’re always rushing off somewhere, Charlie. Not one to hang around long, are you?

Charlie, vaguely: There’s things to do. Early bird gets the worm.

Gianluca: Right. Much to do before 7AM. [ a beat ] How about you hang around just a bit longer. How about some breakfast?

Charlie: I can’t.

Gianluca: A coffee, maybe.

Charlie: I’m sorry.

Gianluca, amused: How about a last name, then?

Ah, tricky… but Charlie simply shakes his head, smile apologetic and only slightly mischievous. These are the rules of engagement with Charlie – no questions, no details, always the air of mystery. Surely, Gianluca knew that when he agreed to, not for the first time, whatever occurred the night before.

Still, curiosity gets the best of him.

Gianluca: You’re truly something else, you know. Tell me, Charlie No Family Name – what’s the rush?

That, Charlie actually seems to contemplate. After a long moment, he meets his gaze, something twinkling in Charlie’s green eyes.

Charlie: Beaucoup de monde à voir.

A lot of world to see. With that, Charlie nods goodbye, stepping out of the apartment and into the early morning. Gianluca watches him go, laughing and shaking his head before disappearing back into his room.

The sounds of a different city float in...

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

When morning rolls around on the east coast and Monday descends upon us, launching us into the first week of classes. Riley and Isadora are walking the streets towards campus together, Riley eagerly leading conversation and both of them looking cute and trendy in their respective styles. Have to make a good impression after all, it’s the first day!

Isadora mainly looks as though she’s trying not to get left behind, Riley on a practical adrenaline kick and walking faster than lightning.

When they make it to a central spot on campus, they meet up with Nigel, who accepts Riley’s excited hug. They only have a few minutes to spare before they head off to their first classes, so as they walk, Riley reiterates the plan for the week – today, they’re meeting up for lunch before Riley and Nigel head to their shared musical theater class to discuss the first day and how it’s going so far. And then they’ll ideally have lunch together at that time every week when it’s feasible for their schedules, or Monday Wednesday Friday, as Riley has already cross-referenced.

At this point given they’re all secretly trying to stay calm amidst all the new, that plan sounds good to all of them. Riley wishes both of them an abundance of luck before they break, heading their separate ways to their first classes.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

They’re not the only ones walking into a new situation. Although the terrain is familiar, Lucas looks downright scared as he hovers in the wings of the Adams auditorium, now officially the “technical teaching assistant.” He glances out from behind the wings to where a crop of students are congregating in the front and center section.

Just like he used to – or didn’t – for four years. As if it was so long ago that was him, and he’s suddenly supposed to be an authority and act like he has any right to be in charge of them. Sure, he knows tech to a degree, but…

Harper appears beside him in the wings, sensing his apprehension. She gives him a bracing pat on the arm, causing him to jump slightly, but he relaxes when he sees it's only her.

Harper: You’ll be fine, Mister Friar. One day at a time. [ a beat ] And don’t ever let them know you’re scared. They can smell fear.

That’s reassuring. Harper leads the way and greets the assembled class that morning, commanding the stage with a confidence she found only through trial and error and hard work.

Lucas takes a deep breath. It’s a wonder if he can find that confidence too, considering he didn’t have much to begin with and he’s not sure he even wants to be there.

As the energetic music kicks up –

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Roaring 20s” as performed by Panic! At The Disco || Instrumental

No hesitation allowed at Turner, where the potential transfers are thrown right into the deep end. Class begins with ROSARIO GAO turning to face the assembled class – a crop of about 25 dancers, all dressed for blood, sweat, and tears and with a mixture of determination and apprehension. Gao herself is impeccably put together as always, ballerina bun tight and expression strict as she launches into her opening spiel.

Rosario: Welcome to the transfer program. Irony noted in the title, given that when all is said and done, only two of you will leave this program as new members of the rising Turner sophomore class. Whether that will be you or not, that is up to you.

As for the rest of them, they’ll find themselves with the short end of the stick one way or another – either because they’re not good enough to best their competition at the end of the day, or much more likely, because they realize they’re not cut out for the challenge and quit before they even have to prove themselves.

Daunting as her little speech is, Zay is not deterred by the grandstanding. He listens with rapt attention, not looking away, facing her challenges head-on. He’s almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, in fact, he’s so ready to start and show what he’s got.

And he’s not the only one. A few students down the row, VANESSA JOHNSON stands, also one of the potential Turner transfers. She listens with equal intensity, her bold, competitive stare almost a dead ringer for Zay’s.

Rosario continues, explaining that they’re diving right in this morning, so she hopes they’ve stretched and warmed up. They were given all summer to work on the first choreography assignments, and now is the time to show they learned it. And trust, it will be noted if they have not. Whether because of lack of retention or nerves is irrelevant.

Rosario: A mistake as a dancer can be the difference between the crowning moment in a piece of choreography and a career-ending injury. It’s the difference between a perfectly synced routine and an avalanche of missteps. It’s the marker between a good dancer and a great one – and those who take the time to rehearse and study seriously.

Long story short, this first routine is going to see exactly where each of them stand. If Rosario catches a mistake, she will tap you out, and you’re expected to leave the dance floor – no exceptions. The last two performers standing are to improvise from there the remainder of the choreography as stipulated in the assignment – another important skill to master.

With that, nothing left to do but dance. Rosario claps them in, and as Brendon Urie starts singing, the routine kicks off!

The warm-up routine isn’t difficult, necessarily, but it’s fast and precise, a choreography cocktail of jazz, lyrical, and hip-hop. And this Panic! track is the perfect vibe for this moment -- upbeat, energetic, but with an undercurrent of anxiety and tension. That’s how it feels to be performing this first transfer routine, knowing you have to hit every step perfectly lest you screw your very first class.

And the stakes are no joke. Rosario is scrutinizing as promised, literally walking amidst the rows and eyeing each student critically. Looking for any slight error, expression cold and expectant. Sure, she can’t watch everyone at once, and there’s a chance if you slip up she won’t see -- but do you really want to take that chance?

Especially because when she does catch an error, it’s the most brutally subtle of dismissals. She comes up to the student, gently taps them on the shoulder, and then nods to the mirrors -- you’re out. It’s done without malice, without enjoyment, but the implicit disappointment speaks volumes. It’s humiliating as each student makes their walk of shame off the floor.

Humiliation Zay absolutely won’t accept. No, he practiced all summer long and took his prep seriously, and it shows in his performance. We know he’s one of the best there is, but now he’s really showing it, hitting every step with not only accurate precision but also high energy and confidence. The kind of presence you need to command a Broadway stage… or transfer into the elite Turner dance program.

But once again, he’s not the only one. At the other end of the row, Vanessa is showing equally well, demonstrating skill she didn’t get to show off at Quincy High. Dance is as natural to her as it is to Zay, and her determination is written all over her face as she concentrates on the steps. Even though the students around them are quite strong in their own right, the two of them can’t help but stand out.

So it’s maybe not surprising that when Rosario taps her final student out, only the two of them remain. As the song comes its swell at the bridge, building in suspense, Zay and Vanessa turn from opposite ends of the room. Realizing they’re the other left standing, recognizing one another as the rival they already know, having to process this development in the three seconds of reprieve they get.

Because after that, they have to put it aside and make the show go on. It’s like you can see the switch flip, where they turn off their emotions, tune back into the music, and launch into improvising. They come back together at the center of the floor, Vanessa spinning into a lean and Zay catching her, and then the two of them tumble through the remainder of the number. It’s imperfect -- they’re making it up as they go, so there’s no way it couldn’t be -- but they pull it off, managing to show off some impressive ability in their split-second step choices and on the spot collaboration. They end on a high note, Vanessa stretching into half a backbend and then rolling back upright while Zay pulls her closer and stabilizes her, ending nose to nose.

For a moment, as the run-through comes to an end, it’s like the air has gone still. The only sound is Zay and Vanessa’s labored breathing, just inches apart and staring each other down. If either of them had doubts about who their toughest competition was going to be, we can consider those all but eradicated.

We’re brought back to Earth by the click of Rosario’s character shoes crossing the floor, snapping Vanessa and Zay out of it. They step away from each other and turn to face their instructor, waiting for her feedback as their tapped-out peers watch from the sidelines. Rosario stands in front of them, examining them silently, expression betraying nothing…

Rosario: You both receive full marks for today. [ to the others ] The rest of you have the rest of the morning to show me you deserve a passing grade.

That’s it. No “good job,” no high praise, nothing. Even as the best (for today), they won’t be getting needless niceties from Professor Gao. The music kicks up again as Rosario turns on her heel, the other students rushing back onto the floor and finding their window.

Rosario: Babineaux, Johnson, to the back. No sense giving anyone a cheat sheet.

Nice as that is, being sent to the back after besting everyone else doesn’t feel all that great. Zay and Vanessa exchange another distrustful glare before parting ways, finding windows in the back row on opposite ends of the formation.

Rosario, loudly: Five, six, seven –

INT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - CHARLIE’S ROOM - DAY

Charlie’s phone chimes on the windowsill, lighting up not with a text but with a reminder. The screen tells us it’s 4PM local time, the sky still a light blue and sun bright outside the window but just beginning its evening descent. Despite how his ability to text back seems in decline, the same old mementos from the summer special are still taking up important space on the sill – his family photo, the graduation card, Skippy’s bandana. They have not slipped at all from Charlie’s high esteem.

And for how mysterious and surprisingly suave Charlie may have seemed in the early morning hours, the way we find him now feels much more familiar. He’s sitting on his lower bunk and slouched against the wall with his knees pulled up, journal propped against his thighs while he thoughtfully chews the end of his pen. Based on what we can see on the pages, what he’s jotting down now seems like more of a thought exercise or free write, but he clearly has no shortage of words.

But he pulls himself away from it easily when his phone pings. He sits up and stretches to grab it, reading the reminder on the screen. A smile creeps onto his face, and he hops out of bed.

Clearly, even though he’s not at school, he has exciting plans of his own on this eventful Monday.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Yet surely nothing could be more exciting than a thrilling lecture on cinema! Isadora heads into her first film class of the day, finding a seat closer to the front but not right front and center. Part of her contemplates it for a moment – surely, if Maya and Farkle were here, the three of them would claim the front and center seats without hesitation.

But that’s not reality, and they’re not here. So Isadora opts for the more casual approach, settling anonymously in the mass of other students.

When class begins, the TAs make a long and perhaps unnecessarily detailed introduction for the professor who teaches this course, before he saunters out in front of the big screen to a smattering of applause. This is PROFESSOR RICHARD WRIGHT (60s), and he is basically exactly what you’d imagine a tenured old white man film professor at an elite liberal arts university would be like. Cleverly dressed, bespectacled, buoyed by an air of self-importance.

Wright: Good morning, and welcome to the beginning of the most life-changing odyssey of your young lives.

As the TAs begin to hand out the syllabi and pass them down the rows, Isadora tunes out of Wright’s monologuing and takes a look around. She grows more aware of the demographics of those sitting scattered throughout the seats – a diverse crop of students, sure, but still remarkably white and male. She didn’t think about it at first, but as Wright rambles and the boys nod along, it’s like she can’t unsee it.

Another peer lightly taps her arm so they can hand her a syllabus, which she thanks them for with a subtle nod. She eagerly begins to flip through it, but her enthusiasm wanes rather quickly… for such an “important” and “cutting edge” course, this list of films seems just about as basic as it gets in the realm of film studies. Like sure, Isadora can appreciate what each of these films contributed – Citizen Kane, Breathless, The Graduate, Hitchcock – but where’s the variety? The flavor, the genre, the intrigue?

Wright: With me as your humble guide, rest assured that by the conclusion of this course, your young minds will be armed and immersed in a richer and inimitable understanding of cinema.

Yeah… Isadora doesn’t seem too sure about that. But it’s only the first day, and she’s trying to be optimistic, so she sets aside her reservations and opens her laptop for notes as Wright begins what is sure to be a long-winded lecture on the very origins of film to kick off their first class.

EXT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - DAY

Meanwhile, further uptown in the Garment District, another busy week is beginning at the Anya Kelly Design Studio.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Interns, seamstresses, and other personnel flurry through the office, what is essentially a hip and urban former factory having been converted into an open-air design studio and costume warehouse. While the designs stay safely in the actual storage area further back, protected by double doors designed like an old-fashioned safe, most of the day-to-day work takes place on the floor – a huge, open office space populated with wide tables littered with fabric and measuring tapes, mannequins, sewing machines, and desks with the traditional industry office fare.

This is where we find JADE BEAMON, settled down at one of the smaller desks tucked to one of the side clusters. This is where the apprentices are stationed, set up more like assistants than designers with administrative tools and a desktop computer, but it’s still amidst the action. And Jade seems to have made herself somewhat at home in the last handful of weeks, no longer a fresh newbie like her collegiate friends but more established in her new workplace.

Touches of home certainly help that. On her desk – which she’s only sparsely decorated – one of the items she’s chosen to bring is a Polaroid photo of her and Asher, leaning alongside a framed picture of her and Nigel from Stratford. She glances at it after finishing up a task on her computer and smiles to herself.

She’s pulled into conversation by one of her new peers, SKYLAR ALBRIGHT (20), the apprentice from one year before. She’s trendy and a bit alternative, hair dyed platinum and more effortlessly stylish than Jade thinks she could ever hope to be. Skylar informs her that the kitchen is stocked with gourmet cupcakes today (must be someone’s birthday, but it’s any guess whose – apprentices aren’t usually privy to that sort of information).

Jade: It’s not Anya’s, is it? That would be embarrassing to not know.

Skylar: According to Goog, no, though I had the same thought.

They’re joined by JAMAL ALLEN (22), the third apprentice and least recent hire. He’s both a friend and mentor to Jade, he and Skylar basically tag-teaming her training as the new apprentice given no one else really has the time to do it. He’s got half a cupcake in his mouth.

Jamal: Trust, when it’s AK’s b-day, you’ll know. It’s impossible to miss.

Skylar: Really? I don’t remember anything from last year.

Jamal: It was on a weekend. And you had strep that week.

Skylar: Oh, yeah. That was fucked.

Jade wants to ask more, but they’re interrupted by MELANIE MURPHY (28), Anya’s administrative assistant. She’s petite and pretty, with a smile as sweet as sugar and the slightest Southern twang indicating she’s no New York native – well, either that or it’s faked to give her some uniqueness, which in the entertainment world is not all that unlikely. Her style is a cross somewhere between Maya Hart and a Victorian evil stepsister: preppy and professional with ruffles, lace, and silk in abundance.

Sweet as she may seem, though, Melanie is two-faced as they come and her charming voice cuts like a scythe. She greets them with her usual beam, clasping her hands in front of her.

Melanie: Good morning, ladies and gent. [ off their murmured response ] I just wanted to let you all know that the cupcakes in the kitchen are strictly for Anya and the seamstresses – it’s Carlotta’s birthday today, and they’re all celebrating the final delivery of the costume set for Mean Girls.

Jamal: How nice.

Skylar: Congrats on meeting deadline.

Melanie: I’ll pass on your warm wishes. I just wanted to clarify that we shouldn’t be plucking items from the kitchen willy-nilly – not everything is meant for everyone. I’m sure you understand.

Jamal subtly lowers the remaining cupcake in his hand and hides it behind his back. Jade bites back her laughter.

Skylar: Thanks for the update, Mel. We really needed to know this information.

Melanie: You’re welcome. I’ll be sure to enjoy a double chocolate in your honor, for all the hard work you apprentices do – it’s absolutely to die for. Someday you’ll have to try it.

But clearly, not right now, because the apprentices aren’t important enough for that. Melanie gives them a cheery little wave and then flutters off, Jamal and Skylar mimicking it back to her behind her back.

Skylar: You can see how much she loves it, lording things over us. It gives her a sick little thrill that’s deep in her eyes.

Jamal: Let her have it. She’s an assistant and she’s almost thirty – this might be the only power she ever gets to have.

Skylar: Well, that and actually getting to see Anya.

Yes, that is one benefit to being someone’s assistant… but an interesting comment. As it turns out, working at Anya Kelly’s studio is no guarantee of actually seeing the acclaimed but mysterious young designer. Her office is situated one floor above the open work floor, frosted glass doors seemingly always closed and keeping her out of sight.

Jade gazes up at the doors curiously while Skylar and Jamal bicker in the background, the former trying to convince the latter to give her the remainder of the cupcake he illegally swiped. As a jaunty, crooning Dean Martin classic floats in…

EXT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “On An Evening In Roma” as performed by Dean Martin || Instrumental

Technically we’re in Naples, not Rome, but the vibes are impeccable just the same. Charlie steps out from his hostel and starts down the cobbled path. He navigates the city with ease that shows how long he’s been immersed, and when he politely greets his neighbors they regard him with friendly familiarity.

Charlie: Salve, Signora Russo.

Russo: Ciao, Charlie!

He beams, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he continues his journey. Though he walks leisurely, he does have a destination…

EXT. NAPLES - DAY

Which we take a bit of a scenic route to arrive at, getting glimpses of the colorful and cultural world of the Italian city Charlie has been living in for a handful of weeks. Marketplaces, restaurants, architecture and museums and a beautiful seaside – it may not be as inherently touristy as Rome, but it’s not hard to see why Charlie chose it for his longest European stay.

EXT. NAPLES METRO STATION - DAY

When Charlie makes it to the train station, it doesn’t take long to figure out what his big reminder was all about. He scans the crowd of departing passengers until he finds BRIDGETTE GARDNER, fresh from the airport with suitcase in hand. She meets his eyes and merely gives him an eyebrow raise, greeting him in just about the most Bridgette way possible.

Charlie’s grin is immediate. He moves through the crowd to meet her and the two of them share a tight hug, Bridgette breaking into a smile of her own. They launch into eager chatter as they start the walk back through the city, Charlie taking Bridgette’s bag to carry it for her.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

The romantic, almost fantasy-like charm can’t last very long in the trenches of film theory -- particularly when you’re surrounded by Film Boys. Isadora has found herself in a group of them, only with a couple of other girls and less boisterous guys when they break into mini-discussion groups after the first half of lecture.

They’re meant to be discussing which of their favorite films apply to some of the concepts Wright claimed would be part of the semester curriculum, but it’s mainly just the louder boys dominating the conversation with their opinion. One of them, a scrawny but confident boy named JASPER CHASE (18), is unabashedly rambling about how Fight Club is the greatest film of all time and covers every single one of their upcoming lecture categories.

Isadora might be slightly intimidated by college, but pretentious boys strike no fear in her. So when he says that, she snorts, drawing all attention towards her.

Jasper: What’s so funny?

Isadora: Nothing, nothing. It’s just like… there really are boys like you out there. I thought the Fight Club film boy was just a rumor. Next you’re gonna go on a rant about how Pulp Fiction is the best addition to cinema in the history of the medium.

Well, now she’s really done it, because yes, Pulp Fiction is the favorite film of many of the other boys in the group. But if our days watching Isadora and Farkle (who wouldn’t spare so much energy over either film, to be sure) duke it out taught us anything, it’s that Isadora isn’t afraid of an argument and never backs down from a challenge. Least of all from a scrawny white boy who thinks he’s hot shit.

The heated debate going on in their circle -- heightened by Jasper’s affront at being challenged and Isadora’s hot-headed temperament triggered by being talked down to by this type of chump -- is enough to draw the attention of their professor. Wright floats over and grandly questions what film topic has riled them into such fierce discussion. He’s not opposed to it, to be clear, as at least enthusiasm for film is deeply on display.

It takes a few seconds of getting Isadora and Jasper to stop talking over each other, when Wright finally gets them both to cease and asks Jasper for his take on the situation first. Isadora bristles at that, especially since Jasper twists the whole situation to make himself look good and just trying to follow the parameters of the discussion and enlighten Isadora.

Isadora: That’s so not what happened. I was explaining to this dude --

Jasper: It’s Jasper.

Isadora: And I’m Isadora. Like it matters. I was explaining to Jasper that his argument about Fight Club being a pinnacle for every angle of film we’re about to study is totally ludicrous --

Well, well, well, Wright has heard enough. Whatever Isadora was going to say, it probably wouldn’t matter -- the professor seems to inherently trust Jasper for whatever reason, taking his side and claiming he probably had it right. But he condescendingly commends Isadora for her “passion,” hopefully that will only strengthen the more she learns about the craft in their semester together.

Isadora is practically fuming by the time Wright breezes away. Jasper snickers and shares smirks with his fellow Pulp Fiction stannies, turning the smirk on Isadora. One point Chase, zero for De La Cruz.

She can’t decide if she’s more angry or humiliated.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Nearly two hours and a lot of sweat later, Rosario is wrapping up the first transfer class. She gives them all a brief speech reiterating the high expectations of the course and low tolerance for anything but their best – if they’re determined to be in the elite program, they will have to prove they’ve got what it takes since they couldn’t do so the first time around.

Rosario: If you felt embarrassed by your performance this morning, let that serve as incentive for you to avoid the same fate next class and come prepared.

And if they feel that’s asking too much, they’re more than welcome to drop – they certainly would not be the first. With that and a quick reminder of the assignment for Wednesday, class is dismissed.

Worn out and glistening with sweat as he might be, Zay does not seem at all deterred. And that’s fair, given his comparatively strong start… something it seems other classmates have picked up on too, earning him a couple of side-eyes as people start to filter out.

But one peer is even bolder than the rest, deciding to take the opportunity to introduce herself upfront. A perky, petite dancer approaches him, not waiting a beat to cut right to the chase and commend him for his great first impression – a sentiment that would be sweet if it didn’t feel so unmistakably barbed with a backhanded threat of competition.

Gia: So it’s Isaiah, right?

Zay: Zay, actually –

Gia: Zay. So cool. I’m Georgia, but no one in their right mind calls me that – I go by “Gia.” So nickname besties, gotta know what you want your brand to be, am I right?

Zay: Right…

Gia: Anyway, kudos to you, can’t wait to see what else you’ve got in store. I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to stay at the front of the pack – you know, now that you’ve put yourself right at the top. It’s not like there’s any pressure to keep to that standard or anything. You made such a good impression; don’t want to slip and fall from that grace too fast.

Okay, as adorable as her smile is, GEORGIA “GIA” VALDEZ (19) kind of makes Maya Hart seem calm and angelic. Zay doesn’t even know what to say, simply nodding along until she burns herself out and cheerfully excuses herself, freeing him from the conversation. She has other fish to fry with an overwrought introduction, only making a pit stop to unctuously thank Rosario for an excellent first class before practically chasing Vanessa out the door.

But not before Vanessa makes a statement of her own. Or rather, a lack of one – she and Zay make eye contact before she heads out, and she opts pointedly not to say anything. An unfriendly glare will suffice perfectly, and Zay mirrors it.

Unlike Gia, there’s little to no question about how the two of them really feel about one another at this point.

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

Riley is on the phone as she makes her way through campus to lunch, chatting with Farkle again. She’s nagging him about the time capsule as they discuss logistics, and Farkle admits it’s harder to pick the perfect items than he expected. Especially with the start of the semester and everything else… when the topic drifts to Agent Turner and how he’s gone AWOL, Riley immediately jumps on the offensive.

Riley: Then he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Seriously, Farkle, he’s going to learn he’s missing out on something spectacular by not taking you on.

Farkle: I guess. I mean, thanks, but I just don’t want to think that I came all the way out here…

Riley: You know what, I’m telling you, you need to talk to my Uncle Josh.

Farkle is obviously reluctant about that, not wanting to bother him or put Riley in the position of haggling for them, but she’s adamant. She claims she was planning to nudge him anyway, and it’s the least she could do for a friend. That’s what the industry is all about, isn’t it? Contacts and connections?

Riley: Trust me, it’ll be great. He’ll love you guys, and Josh is like the best there is. He’s so cool, and really chill, and so passionate about music. He’s been out there for years now, he knows what he’s doing. You could not put your career in better hands!

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Effusive as Riley’s praise is, our first glimpse of the myth may not inspire such confidence. On a remarkably untidy desk, JOSH MATTHEWS (24) is knocked, cheek pressed against a stack of contracts under review. Empty and half-finished coffee cups litter the desktop. His curly dark hair is equally untidy, perpetually hidden under a beanie, and it seems like he may be just a wee bit overdue for a shave…

Off-screen, we hear whispers and giggles, quickly shushed before a Converse-clad foot slowly eases into the frame. Getting closer and closer to Josh’s face… until it taps his cheek. The chuckles grow, as do the shushes, but still Josh doesn’t stir. It’s not until the Converse definitely nudges against his temple that he’s startled awake, reacting in surprise and inadvertently knocking one of his half-empty coffee cups over and splattering on his clothes and desk.

Josh: Jeepers!

If he wasn’t already disoriented, the immediate laughter that erupts around him is really another level. He looks up from his coffee-stained shirt to see many of his assembled colleagues – fellow junior producers and assistants, the ones who populate the desks at the center of the floor but don’t get offices of their own – laughing at his expense. One of his direct coworkers, BRIAN HARRIS (28), is filming it on his phone.

Brian: Jeepers! You really said jeepers, Josh! Ha ha ha!

Assistant: We should put this on the Global Beat Tik Tok.

Brian: [ with a gasp ] Yes. Yes, that’s so good!

No, no that is not good! Josh starts to argue, but he also doesn’t want to be the one making a big deal out of a little playful office pranking. It’s not like he’s never been on the other side of one, and well, it was his fault for falling asleep at the office.

Josh: Okay, funny, you all can fuck right off.

The early morning pre-work tomfoolery is broken up when some of the higher-level producers start arriving, dispersing the lower-levels back to their respective desks. Brian gives Josh a slap on the shoulder, assuring him they’re just having a laugh.

A couple of Josh’s senior-level producers catch his attention as they show up to their office for the day. This is the producing team of JUSTIN MILLER (31) and MELISSA SUZUKI (30), a trendy and creative duo quickly making a name for themselves in the music world. They’re mentors of sorts just as much as they’re bosses to Josh – and they represent basically everything he wants to be.

Right now, though, they’re more like older siblings, also not missing the opportunity to rag on him. They eye his coffee-stained attire and obvious lack of… well, going home, given he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

Justin: [ mock helpfully ] Aye, Josh, you’ve got a little –

He gestures noncommittally to like, his entire torso, as if Josh isn’t well aware he’s dunked in coffee like a doughnut. Justin barks out a laugh and heads into their shared office, Melissa offering a slightly nicer but also thoroughly amused smile.

Melissa: This is why we go home after 6PM, Joshie.

Justin: [ from the office ] Great way to start my morning! I needed that pick-me-up, thanks buddy!

Attention finally off him as work settles in for the morning, Josh exhales and turns his glare to the coworker at the desk next to his – the one with the straying Converse. ROWAN PHELPS (25), most commonly known just as Phelps, is an executive assistant and junior producer just like Josh, with a close-cropped androgynous haircut and a jawline perhaps better suited for modeling. But Phelps is here for the music, and despite their participation in the morning shenanigans, is arguably Josh’s most genuine friend at Global Beat.

Right now, though, their shit-eating grin is downright evil. Josh grumbles.

Josh: Et tu, Phelps?

Phelps, pithily: This is why we go home after 6PM, Joshie. Overachiever.

Josh reaches forward and shoves at their rolling chair, before attempting to salvage paperwork from his desk and wipe away the coffee. Just in case you had any delusions, if this doesn’t demonstrate it well enough, Hollywood… is about as mature an industry as your common high school free period.

Professionalism is a relative term.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

That’s equally true back at Adams, where Lucas is faced with his first daunting task -- getting the freshman techies to take him seriously. The handful of baby techs stare at him as he approaches where they’re congregated in the back center section, just like where he used to gather with his crew not too long ago.

No fear. No fear. Lucas takes a deep breath, channeling his infamous aloof demeanor as he comes to stand in front of them and introduces himself. He explains that he’s the teaching assistant for Shawn, their direct supervisor, and he’ll be helping them learn the ropes of technician work.

Getting them to listen shouldn’t be too hard. Most of them are still just gaping at him, either because they’re terrified or think he’s insanely pretty (or both). Though one of them -- a mini-Isadora if there ever was one, skeptical squint framed by chunky glasses -- raises her hand almost immediately.

Lucas: Yeah. You. I mean -- what’s your name?

Greta: It’s Greta.

Lucas: Okay. Greta. What do you want?

Assuming this the time to chime in, one of the other boys -- a gangly kid with freckles and curly hair under a beanie -- pipes up.

Bean: My name’s Bean.

Lucas: Um. Okay. Then.

Jake: Yo, Bean, whaddup! [ to Lucas ] I’m Jake.

This prompts all of them to start talking over each other -- that is, except the shy ones -- to introduce themselves, vying for Lucas’s attention like popcorn kernels. It’s obvious he has no clue how to prioritize or who to pay attention to -- kids are so terrifying.

Greta: Hey, shut up! I was asking a question.

Bean: Sorry, G.

Lucas: … okay. What did you want to ask?

Greta: Yeah, okay. So, why should we listen to you?

Lucas: Huh?

Greta: Why should we listen to you? Didn’t they like, just hire you? Aren’t you barely a legal adult? What are your credentials?

Bean: Were we supposed to bring credentials? I don’t think that was on the supplies list.

Jake: [ with a laugh ] Dude, what’s wrong with you?

Lucas: Uh --

Greta: I thought this was supposed to be the best arts school in the city. How do you factor into that?

Well damn, Greta, the fuck if he knows! Stop asking him the questions that keep him up at night! They simply devolve into chatter once again, other techies interrupting with questions they decide they need to know the answer to that may or may not have anything to do with Lucas or the school.

Lucas feels like he’s been dropped in the deep end, and he’s drowning trying to figure out how to take back control of the situation… that is, until he zeroes in on something else.

Lucas: Hey. Hey!

The only one who wasn’t paying attention -- a slight guy dressed in dark clothes and ratty Converse and with a perpetually mischievous shade to his expression -- jumps from where he was leaning down in his seat. This is TIMMY.

Lucas: What’s your name?

Timmy: Uh… Timmy.

Lucas: Okay. Timmy, what the hell do you think you’re doing?

Timmy: What?

Lucas: What were you doing just now?

Timmy: What? I -- nothing. Nothing.

Convincing… or it would be if he didn’t have the slightest of guilty smiles on his face. Amateur. Lucas holds a hand out.

Lucas: Hand it over.

Timmy: Hand what over?

Lucas: You know. Come on, give it.

Timmy: Lay off, dude. You can’t tell me what to do. I wasn’t doing anything.

Jake: Uh, yeah he can, bro. He’s the teacher.

Greta: He’s the teaching assistant.

Timmy: Yeah, he’s just the assistant. He can’t have my Sharpie.

Lucas: So you do have a Sharpie?

Oop? The others are watching with rapt attention now -- a showdown already! The second week has barely started!

Lucas: What’d you write under the seat, Timmy? You know vandalism is a crime. And I can guarantee anything you think you’re so clever for jotting on that chair, I’ve already beat you to it.

Ooh… got ‘em. Now he’s really got their attention. Timmy sheepishly hands over the red Sharpie he was in fact scribbling on the seat with, acting grumpy about it, but he admittedly seems much more interested in Lucas now than he was before.

Lucas pockets the Sharpie and exhales a deep breath, getting things back on track.

Lucas: So. Tech. Get up, I’m gonna show you around.

Greta: Um, Mister Hunter already did that.

Lucas: Who?

Jake: … um... Shawn?

It’s possible they didn’t call him “Mister Hunter” in the entire four years Lucas was a student. Guess he’s legit now.

Lucas: Oh. Yeah. Well, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, so. Get up, we’re going anyway.

Greta seems utterly baffled, but dutifully gets up along with the others. Timmy acts nonchalant but makes a point of sauntering to the front of the pack, right behind Lucas. A couple of others tailing in the back whisper to each other.

Baby Tech: He is the most beautiful and scary man I’ve ever seen in my life.

INT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - CHARLIE’S ROOM - DAY

Bridgette hops down from the top bunk she’s claimed above Charlie’s, officially settled into her temporary digs for the days that she’s here. Charlie starts eagerly listing off things he wants to show her while she’s here, how he thinks they should break up their days, but Bridgette is more interested with taking in what’s right in front of her – like how Charlie has been living the last few weeks. She zeroes in on the mementos set-up on the windowsill, smiling lightly.

Bridgette: [ nodding to it ] Cute set-up. Pretty good picture of the fam, too – everyone in it looks half-decent, which is a rare feat. Much to mother’s chagrin, I know.

Charlie: Please.

Bridgette: Bit biased here, though. Where’s your heathen older sister representation?

Charlie: Well, maybe you’d have some if there was proof you existed. Take a picture with me, and I can put it up.

Bridgette: Oh, now Charlie, you’re slipping on your surreptitious ways. Photographs are evidence, and evidence can be used against you. Besides, if you’re taking a photo you’re not living in the moment. You should be all into that, it sounds like something you’d say. [ off his eye roll ] Speaking of, contingency plans.

Charlie: Oh?

Bridgette: Yes. Though the odds are small, on the off-chance word somehow gets back to the motherland -- or Motherland, with a capital M -- that you and I were spotted traipsing around the Italian coast together, I’ve planned our cover story. I fed Auntie Edith a bullshit but very engaging story explaining my dire need to return to Europe as one of the Catholic men I met while rediscovering my holy virtues on the trip she so graciously funded was having a crisis of faith and only I could remind him in the same way he saved me. And if marriage comes of it, well --

Charlie snorts, shaking his head. It seems he isn’t the only Gardner child with a penchant for romanticized imagination.

Bridgette: But if that story doesn’t pan out and disseminate widely to the greater church populace like I’m sure it will given Edith has the loosest lips in the congregation, then our backup is simply that you convinced me to come visit you in the Pope’s domain in your noble effort to solidify my evangelization.

Kind of ironic, given how Charlie has been spending his summer, but it’ll do. With that out of the way, it’s Italy time, Bridgette turning to Charlie and gesturing for him to lead the way.

EXT. NYU - LUNCH SPOT - DAY

Riley, Isadora, and Nigel have met up for lunch as promised, the three of them seated at an outdoor table in one of the common lunch spots on campus. Food acquired and an hour of time theirs again, they catch up on how their first classes went.

Well, by that, it’s basically like Isadora dominating the conversation as she viscerally complains about her first experience with the film boys. Like the arrogance, the irritation, the sheer ego… unbelievable! Anyone who thought the Adams students were bad clearly has never sat in a film major course with eighteen-year-old boys who think they’re going to be the next Tarantino – as if that’s the most highly achievable standard anyway.

Once she’s burnt herself out, she abruptly shifts topic with a huff.

Isadora: Anyway. What the fuck ever. Nigel, how was your class?

Nigel is evidently unprepared to be addressed. He finishes chewing his veggie wrap, nowhere near as filled with things to say as Isadora.

Nigel: Oh, I had Introduction to Psychology. Brains… and stuff. It was… fine --

Riley incidentally cuts him off, still processing Isadora’s rant and not ready to move past it. She tells Isadora not to immediately jump to the worst conclusions. Sure, some of her classmates might be annoying, but they had annoying peers at Adams too.

Isadora: Farkle was annoying, but lovable. Like “Call Me Maybe.” Or street pigeons.

Nigel: Damn. I thought Farkle was your best friend?

Isadora: He is. [ without elaborating ] These boys are no Farkle Minkus. They are evil, and I will destroy them.

Riley isn’t going to argue that. She just suggests Isadora not let one class totally taint her perception of NYU or the semester as a whole.

Riley: It’s only been half a day. Surely good things are on the horizon.

Isadora: Meh…

Riley: We just need to take the time to give everything its fair shake and put our best foot forward. Sometimes it takes time for true colors to emerge, for us to find the potential in people and things -- I think all of us can attest to that.

Isadora won’t deny that. Riley isn’t wrong, and the week is just starting. But if Isadora is looking for a distraction or something else to think about, Riley nags, then she could start by figuring out what she’s going to put in the time capsule which she still hasn’t done despite living in the same apartment as the person organizing the whole thing.

That sure energizes Isadora, but in the opposite way. No time to focus on time capsule things and trying to qualify what’s most important to her – Isadora has film boys to defeat!

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DAY

The good news is, shockingly, not all boys suck. One such example is Zay’s next company as he also heads to lunch, excitedly meeting up with HENRIK VON FELDT (19). This is the good friend he made at Kossal three summers ago, a fellow bisexual dancer who now is living his dream as a member of the freshman class at Turner Academy.

He doesn’t hold that over Zay’s head, though. On the contrary, as they head to the cafeteria, Henrik happily answers every question Zay has about his first day in the program and repeatedly reassures him he’ll get to experience it all for himself when he transfers in next year. As far as Henrik is concerned, Zay joining him soon enough is a guarantee.

Of course, Henrik hasn’t met the competition. And it seems like his current circumstances might paint a much rosier picture than Zay’s – apparently, the Turner major doesn’t feel cutthroat at all on first impressions. They don’t have classes with Rosario until sophomore year (though she does have a reputation for being a hard ass), and while there’s a couple of competitive folks, so far Henrik only has positive impressions of his peers.

Henrik: Mainly it’s just a bunch of folks who seem chill and really love dance. AKA, the total vibe – you’ll fit right in, once you get in.

So a completely different vibe than the initiation Zay has had so far. When Henrik asks him about his first impression, Zay deflects, smoothly assuring him it’s off to a good start and he’s looking forward to the semester. Nothing to worry about. Same shining review.

INT. BING THEATRE - DAY

Meanwhile, Farkle is settling in for his first class of the morning, one of his acting classes. A class where many of his fellow majors are, but he still isn’t sure how to… like, mesh with people, so he ultimately finds a seat on his own. It’s Monday, anyway. Who wants to be chatty on a Monday morning?

As class kicks off, their professor explains that now that syllabus week is done, for their first actual acting assignment they will be focusing on the quintessential actor’s tool: the monologue. On their individual and varied journeys to the stage and screen, the monologue will always be their most common aid, their most valuable asset, the expression of skill that can make or break an audition. A monologue can convey so much with so little -- no sets, no costumes, no effects or music or melodrama -- and it will serve them greatly if they can master it. So that is what they will be starting with, and honing over the next four years.

INT. NYU - THEATER CLASS - DAY

Riley and Nigel are in a similar boat, arriving to their first shared class: musical theater seminar. Riley excitedly squeezes Nigel’s arm as they arrive, walking through the doors and scanning the chairs assembled in a half-circle for a place to sit.

Who should Riley find in that search but another familiar face. EVAN SCOTT is in this class, apparently also a member of the NYU freshman class. He smiles when he spots her, and she returns it brightly, thrilled to recognize someone else. She heads towards him and gestures eagerly for Nigel to follow.

Riley: Evan, right?

Evan: That’s the name. Honored to be remembered by the one and only Riley Matthews.

Riley: Oh, please. Are these seats taken?

Evan: Have at it.

Riley beams, dropping into the seat next to Evan while Nigel occupies the one on her other side. He leans around her and nods to Evan, not sharing their easy familiarity.

Nigel: You know each other?

Riley: Oh, yes! Sorry. Evan, this is the effortlessly talented Nigel Chey. Nigel, Evan.

Evan extends a hand, Nigel shaking it.

Evan: Nice to meet you. If you’ll forgive me for being a Havie.

Nigel: Oh, Haverford. You’re not one of the ones who like, tormented Charlie, are you?

Evan: [ with a laugh ] Disputed as that claim may be, no. Me and Charlie are cool -- I’ve been following his trip updates on Instagram, on the off chance he posts them. I’m super jealous.

Riley, proudly: Evan is above the rivalry. That’s something we agreed on when we met.

Evan: With someone like you representing Adams, hard not to want to set aside the heavy artillery.

Riley laughs, waving him off playfully. Nigel looks back and forth between them, smiling along but obviously feeling a bit left out of the loop. It’s crazy, how Riley seems to automatically have or make friends everywhere they go.

The small talk dies down as their professor, PROFESSOR HILL (40s), enters the room and starts class. There’s about 30 of them assembled for this class, which she emphasizes will make for more collaborative, deep, and intimate work as they start exploring musical theater. Since this will be a small and tight-kit class, they’ll be kicking off this first class with introductions. She opens the floor, allowing anyone who wants to volunteer to take the stage.

Naturally, the room goes quiet, stalled with the fundamental need to avoid going first (especially rampant among freshmen)... but then Riley raises her hand. Putting her best foot forward.

Riley: I can go.

The professor smiles, gesturing for her to stand and deliver. Riley takes a deep breath and then gets to her feet, authentic charm activated as she greets her new peers and introduces herself. She expresses her enthusiasm for what they’re going to learn that semester, the opportunity to be in this cool program with so many talented people, and humbly admits to a bit of trepidation at all of the newness that she’s sure they’ll all overcome in no time.

It’s impressive, the sheer difference in delivery between this woman and the shy, uncertain girl who stepped into a new school three seasons ago. Riley has done a lot of growing to get where she is now – openly keen, quietly confident, willing to be the one to step up and lead.

Well as this goes over, of course, not everyone is so won over. A smattering of her peers don’t seem impressed, reading her eagerness more as sucking up than stepping up. But overall, she makes a good first impression, many of her classmates and her professor smiling along through her introduction. She offhandedly mentions her friend Nigel in remarks about where they came from, and that they’re excited about where they’re going to go from here at NYU.

Nigel does seem especially proud to be friends with the girl brave enough to go first… that is, until it puts unexpected attention on him. Given Riley made the connection, the professor asks him if he’d like to go next.

Nigel: Oh. Um… uh…

Riley, now back in her seat, gives him an encouraging nod. But for whatever reason, the brain train has stopped in its tracks, and Nigel’s got nothing.

Professor: Or not. We’ll come back to Riley’s friend here, then.

Nigel manages a weak smile, trying to pass it off as just a bit of humor. Ha ha… Evan offers to go next, sparing him any further pain by elongating the silence.

Evan: Don’t see how I could possibly follow Matthews here, but the show must go on.

The class chuckles, easing some of the awkwardness. Nigel laughs along, trying to wipe the embarrassment from his memory, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Maybe this isn’t going to be all that different from the Triple A monarchy days after all…

INT. NYU - CLASSROOM - DAY

The next class Isadora walks into seems to have more promise from the get-go -- Exploring the Genre: Science Fiction and Thriller / Horror. It’s one of the specialized genre classes they take as freshman, and Isadora was very excited about getting to choose one of the genres that got her into film in the first place.

And stepping in the classroom seems to make Riley’s wish come true that things could still look up. This class is much smaller than the lecture, about 30 - 40 students in the room rather than 100s, and far less White Film Boys than the general major seems to hold.

Best of all? A woman is in charge. A young, quirky-looking professor is standing by the desk in the front of the room, smiling and greeting students as they enter the room and mentally taking count as they file in. She’s got a trendy long bob haircut, tattoos visible peeking out on her collarbone and forearm, and the same sort of easy vibes as Harper. This is PROFESSOR CHELSEA SCHWARTZ (30s).

Once the full class has made it in, Chelsea takes to the front of the room and introduces herself. Her opening monologue is eons less egotistical than Wright’s, and she puts a clear emphasis on the students as she starts to describe their curriculum and what they’ll be exploring. She hands out a syllabus and a sheet of paper, instructing others to pass them down the rows.

Chelsea: The single sheet there is your first homework assignment -- I know, I know, but this won’t be terrible. I promise. It’s just an informational sheet about you, most questions voluntary, to help me get a better sense of who you are and what you’re interested in. Your goals, your dreams, your favorite character from It’s Always Sunny. You know how it is. [ off the class chuckles ] So before we dive into the wonderful world of syllabi, I want you all to get the chance to get to know one another. This is going to be a more friendly class than some of your other lectures, so let’s start on that now.

Lovely, icebreakers… but doing it in a small group isn’t so bad. And doing it with other film and sci-fi nerds is about as good as Isadora figures it’s going to get. They go around the small circle and introduce themselves, but surprisingly, when it lands on Isadora, she finds herself hesitating.

Isadora: I’m Isado -- Isa. [ a beat ] Yeah, Isa.

No clue where that instinct came from… but doesn’t feel like the wrong move. No one here knows her, so if she wants to redefine herself or start with a clean slate, this is the chance to tell them so. No Dora. No Izzy. No Smackle.

Just Isa.

EXT. NAPLES STREETS - DAY

Charlie and Bridgette are just rounding out their walkabout unofficial tour of the area, stopping at a gelato vender for a quick treat (I mean, it’s an Italian must). Charlie does the talking, sharing a bit of small talk with the local vendor and demonstrating a comfortable rapport with his current neighborhood -- even in another language. Bridgette watches them interact, evidently impressed, then manages a thanks for the gelato as they depart.

They eat it as they continue to walk, Charlie continuing to point out the features and highlights of his corner of Naples. He’s got a read on the best restaurants and cafes, a bit of gossip surrounding the townsfolk, and of course, he knows where to find the nearest book shop. And as they go, friendly faces continue to greet Charlie and exchange niceties with him, like he’s one of them. Like he’s been there his whole life.

Remarkably, it’s like he’s more seen and known here than he ever was in the Upper East Side. That, on top of the relaxed demeanor and vaguely cool European style, is almost jarring. Bridgette observes all of it with intrigue and subtle fascination.

Bridgette: You’re like a little trivia factory. Do you think you’re going to be able to stop this side of you when you get back? Are you gonna start giving tours of Central Park? You’ll have to show everyone the statue where Skippy peed and got chastised by the street patrol which made you cry on his behalf -- it’s very culturally significant.

Charlie scoffs, looking away in embarrassment. Sorry Charlie, she’s your older sister, it’s her job to remind you of your dorky roots… but something about his reaction seems like it might run a bit deeper than that. Bridgette notices, too, particularly when he doesn’t really respond and simply changes the subject, jumping to the earlier part of her statement.

Charlie: Just wait until we go to Pompeii. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’ve been reading a ton about it in preparation.

Bridgette: Of course you have. I’m kind of amazed you haven’t gone already. I would’ve thought, nerdy history and culture lover you are, that you’d’ve been all over that from like day one.

Charlie: Well, I was waiting for you. It was one of the one things you explicitly expressed interest in. And I wanted something for us to be able to experience together.

Ah, yes, there’s the Charlie we know so well. Disarmingly considerate, thoughtful, and unbelievably nerdy as he launches into preemptive trivia he’s read about Pompeii. Bridgette smiles, allowing him to carry on.

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

As Farkle heads out of acting class into the annoyingly bright sunshine, a gaggle of his peers exit at the same time and call to catch his attention. They introduce themselves casually, prompting Farkle to do the same.

Farkle: Uh, Farkle.

Peer 1: Farkle? [ with humor ] Dude, you know that name is whack, right?

Farkle: I’ve been informed once or twice, yes.

Truly, like he’s never heard that one before… anyway, they were all just discussing the monologue assignment. Whenever they get monologue work, it’s like they all forget every monologue they’ve ever delivered, ha ha. How about him? Has he thought about what he might do yet?

Of course, it’s Farkle, so sure he has. Farkle rattles off his thought process without a hitch given they invited it out of him, running through a quick list of three or four initial options (mainly from classic works) with pros or cons to each of them as an initial monologue.

They asked, but it’s clear his peers weren’t necessarily ready for a Farkle Minkus answer. They simply stare at him for a long moment, then a couple of them laugh, nodding in approval and bewilderment.

Peer 2: You are intense, man.

It’s not said like an insult, but Farkle doesn’t necessarily take it as a compliment either. It’s more like his classmates just simply don’t know what to make of him, so early on, and Farkle’s spent so long in the bananas embrace of Adams that he forgot just how far from next to normal he usually feels.

As some melancholy acoustic guitar floats in…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Although he’s just a junior producer, Josh is doing his best to build a strong portfolio of his own. He manages a very small roster of clients – those that have elected to entrust him with their careers and take a chance on a relative unknown rather than wasting time trying to get the attention of the big leagues – and it’s a responsibility he doesn’t take lightly. That’s why he’s taken the time to clean the coffee off his shirt to the best of his ability… which now just looks more like a giant smudge, but hey, we can call it fashion.

The one he’s meeting with this morning is an alternative singer-songwriter, exuding alt-hippie-punk energy with a hint of stoner flair. She’s crashed on the couch in the recording studio with her chunky combat boots resting on the back of the couch against the wall, six-string laying across her torso as she leisurely strums some chords. Even just from her humming and light vocal riffing, we can tell she’s a vocal talent. This is Kit Young, but she’s known mainly as CRICKET (late 20s).

While Josh is grateful for every client he has, they aren’t all instant hits. Cricket’s issue, as we quickly come to realize, is that for all the talent she has, she isn’t that great at producing actual concrete material… which is to say, she hasn’t produced anything yet.

Cricket: I don’t know, man. I’m thinking like… I mean [ sitting upright ] visualize with me here, Josh. I just want you to picture it.

Josh: Okay, I’m picturing.

Cricket: A concept album… but the tracks are just… empty. White noise.

Josh: Is Spotify broken?

Cricket: No, but that’s exactly it, right?! You click into this album, this long-awaited hype, and… nothing. It’s just empty. Void. And you have that moment of panic and you realize, right then, just how foundational music is to us. It’s life blood, man! And the moment it seems like you can’t have it, you feel that fear. Talk about a way to make us all like… wake up to the way we live on music, how we so take it for granted in this vapid era and industry of immediacy and overconsumption.

Josh: Sure, totally.

Cricket: It’s like a metaphor, you know? The empty album represents the way we artists are conformed and pressured to deliver these soulless vacuums of enterprise, these products that are made to fill a quota, a gross income projection, rather than expressing the deepest parts of our souls. That’s what music is to me, you know, my soul. That’s what I want my music to be.

Josh: And I love that. A stunt release like that would be dope, for sure. [ a beat ] But before we can get the label to agree to that, we need to have some other successful output under our belts first.

Cricket: See? That’s exactly what I’m saying. You said that totally right.

Josh: … right. And so how is that single coming?

Cricket: Yeah, right. Right, the single. I’m working on it. Josh, you know I’ve got stuff in the pipeline. I’m gonna get it to you. Swear on it.

Yeah, and he was born yesterday… Josh does believe in Cricket’s talent and ability, but her work ethic leaves something to be desired.

But thankfully, she isn’t the only client on his roster. While Cricket devolves back into her idea for empty tracks, Josh checks his phone, where he’s gotten an email from the manager of another one of his clients.

“just finished the first demo of the new track with IRIS. gonna be a big one bet. will send to ur inbox tonight would love thoughts xx”

Now Josh is excited. The promise of something brilliant from his most promising client is enough to rally his energy, spark back in his eyes as he tunes back into Cricket’s hazy musical daydreaming.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

After a full day with the baby tots, Lucas is exhausted, but the low-wage diner life waits for no one. He emerges from the back room for his shift just as another familiar face enters the diner, Zay having just finished his classes for the day.

A quick scan of the place doesn’t show any signs of his friends… sans Lucas, who barely counts, and neither of them seem keen to talk to the other. Still, Zay bothers to ask, wondering if Lucas knows whether Riley is going to be around soon. There’s a lot he wants to tell her about the first day…

But no such luck. Riley’s in class for another hour. Isa’s preparing for an evening class, and Zay knows Nigel is already home because he got stuck babysitting his brother. All that leaves is Lucas, who he’s really not interested in telling all about his day (and who doesn’t seem all that interested to know).

So he’s on his own. Zay awkwardly thanks Lucas and heads out, deciding he may as well go home and call it a day. Everyone’s busy with their own things, off on their own timelines…

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Not that all of Zay’s friends are only confined to New York. He thinks about one in particular as he pulls out his phone, clicking into his messages and checking their thread.

No news from Charlie. No updates. Not even a response to his last text, the one he sent almost two weeks ago saying he was thinking of him. What an embarrassing thing to admit, since it seems Charlie can’t spare much of a thought back for him.

Zay sighs, shaking his head. He’s not going to think that way -- he knows Charlie is a reliably awful texter even on a good day, and he’s not going to begrudge him for doing what everyone else is too. Living his new life. Especially with the time difference. People get busy. People forget things. It happens.

But doesn’t make being the one forgotten or left behind sting any less.

INT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - CHARLIE’S ROOM - NIGHT

In this case, Charlie is preoccupied, since he’s got company. He and Bridgette are getting ready to go out for the evening, planning to go see some live theater production that Bridgette only half-jokes seems like a waste of time since she won’t be able to understand any of it anyway. But it’s culture, Bridgette! Art! Drama! That’s what Italy is all about, damn it!

Their usual sibling dynamic is wholly interrupted by visitors popping into the room, a couple of Charlie’s hostel friends eagerly greeting him after just returning from a day-long boat trip. The girl is MATILDE (21), a pretty brunette from Milan who does most of the talking with a fast-paced, chipper delivery that could rival Riley Matthews; the boy is a tall, good-looking but somewhat awkward Geordie from the UK named MAX (22).

Chill as they are with him, Charlie bizarrely kind of freezes up when they show up. Bridgette notices the way his demeanor shifts, becoming more aloof, and she catches the way he nervously glances in her direction as his hostel mates address him and take over the conversation.

He gets really awkward when they finally actually realize Bridgette is there. Matilde turns her attention to her, eyes brightening in interest.

Matilde: Ciao, sei appena arrivato?

Bridgette: Uh… sorry. I’m one of those bitches who only speaks English.

Max: [ in accented English ] Oh, thank God. Don’t worry, my Italian is shite too and I’ve been here for two weeks.

Matilde: Yes, it’s okay, I speak English too. Where do you come from?

Bridgette: Same hell as Charlie. I’m his sister.

At this, Matilde gasps in delight, jaw dropping open.

Matilde: Charlie! You did not tell us you had a sister.

Oh, did he not? Now that is interesting… and from the way his cheeks are visibly flushing, that summer tan isn’t going to do him much good concealing his embarrassment. Bridgette side-eyes him, already insatiably curious to know why the hell that’s the case considering they’re supposedly such a big part of his life (they’re sitting on his windowsill, after all). But first, she has to punish him a little bit for it, so she innocently carries on.

Bridgette: Oh, he sure does. I’m one of four.

Matilde: Four sisters?

Max: Wow.

Matilde: Charlie…

Bridgette: Yes, Charlie…

Charlie, defensively: It just… didn’t come up.

Hm… Bridgette doesn’t look like she entirely buys that. But anyway, she’s here now, and Matilde and Max are so keen to meet another one of Charlie’s friends! Or, well, siblings in this case! They ask what she’s already gotten to do, when she arrived, what plans they have…

Matilde: Oh, Charlie, you have to bring her to Incendio.

Max: Oh, fuck yeah. That’ll be class.

Charlie: Uh, I wasn’t thinking of –

Bridgette: What’s Incendio?

Matilde: Only the best nightclub in Naples. It’s a bit underground, but if you find your way in, it is the best dancing and the best drinks in the city. Without a doubt the perfect dance floor. Magnifico.

Max: And the hottest people.

Matilde: It’s so fun. And Charlie is one of the best dancers there when we go.

Charlie: Um, I really wouldn’t say –

Max: Yeah, he’s real popular.

Oh, IS HE NOW? Bridgette is wildly amused by these revelations, though she’s very good at maintaining a fairly neutral exterior. Charlie, on the other hand, looks like he wants to explode – any easy confidence he may have seemed to have before has all but evaporated.

And Bridgette can sense that, so she spares him the trauma for now. She claims they did have other plans for this evening – culture, and all that – but maybe some other night while she’s here. Charlie pathetically claims he was planning to show her some of the nightlife, just maybe not that particular club…

Matilde: Charlie, no. Come on. You have to. It’s our favorite.

Bridgette: Yes, Charlie, I really think you have to show it to me now.

Great… ha ha. Charlie manages a smile.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora settles at her desk, ready to start on homework. There isn’t too much to do just yet; the main assignment is the informational sheet that Professor Schwartz handed out in class.

She fills out her age and birthday at the top, and puts her name down as “Isa,” then… pauses when she notices the question asking for her gender. Her pen hovers above the checkbox next to “Female,” but something is preventing her from checking it. Isadora frowns, unsure why she’s even struggling, before deciding to just move on and come back to it later.

The next question is about her family background. This is the first of the optional questions, and after a moment’s thought, Isadora decides to write about growing up in foster care, her mother dying, and then being adopted by Eric. She doesn’t specify her mom’s name in the explanation of her family, since it isn’t needed, but does mention that her mother abandoned her to chase fame in Hollywood. Familiar…

She continues through the sheet, but when she gets back to gender, she still can’t check any of the boxes. It’s like something in her brain just isn’t allowing her to answer.

She can’t be bothered to come to a conclusion right now; she has more important things to do. Like organizing her pencil case… or rereading the assigned material for one of her regular classes. Whatever her sudden issue with gender is can wait.

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

Farkle is grappling with indecision of his own, though not around school. He’s distracted by obsessing over the agent again, flipping the business card over in his fingers. The main reason he made this big decision, the reason he gave up everything he had going in New York to come see this thing through… and yet, nothing. It feels like a glaring dead end.

Farkle pulls up email on his phone, checking the thread with Jonathan Turner. Farkle’s email remains the only one, sent but apparently unread. Or read but unanswered, purposefully or otherwise being the most haunting question.

Welcome to Hollywood. Farkle closes his fist around the card, bending it as he presses his knuckles against his chin.

INT. JOSH’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

On the TV in a cramped living area in North Hollywood, someone is playing Stardew Valley on an Xbox gaming system. This someone is Josh’s good friend and roommate, ANDREW HALL (24), who is enjoying his evening post-work with some good old-fashioned video gaming. He’s not far into the game, but he’s sure invested in making his little avatar plant some seeds.

Andrew: Bro, how is this farming shit so addictive…

He sits up straighter when the front door opens, Josh finally returning back to the apartment. Andrew pauses the game.

Josh, tiredly: Heyo.

Andrew: Man, where the hell have you been? I was about to file a missing person’s report on your ass.

Josh: That would’ve been presumptuous. You’re supposed to give it forty-eight hours.

Andrew: Well, I’m sorry. You don’t come home at night, a man worries. And I know like hell you weren’t getting any, so where the hell were you?

Josh shoots him a disdainful glare before he disappears into the fridge, pulling out an energy drink. His lack of a response speaks for him though, Andrew groaning and shaking his head.

Andrew: Did you fall asleep at the office again?

Josh: Not intentionally.

Andrew: I swear, your healthy boundaries are beyond saving. I should report that damn place for exploitative labor.

Josh: You and your reports. I’m fine, all right? Just got a lot to do.

Andrew: So do I, and you know what? I still manage to clock out by six. And you know why, Josh?

Josh, mockingly: “Because I have a work-life balance.”

Andrew: Because I have a work-life bal – okay, you know what? Fuck you. I’m tryna farm here, and you’re harshing the vibe with your corporate brainwashing. Joja Corp. looking ass.

Josh claims Andrew doesn’t get it, because he has a normal career in a normal field like engineering. The arts are different. To make it out here, you’ve gotta give it all or nothing – and Josh is close. He feels like he’s so, so close to making a breakthrough.

Andrew has heard this all before, many times. He waves him off, slouching back against the couch cushions.

Andrew: Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Leave me and my melon seeds be.

Josh takes a pointed sip of his energy drink, passing Andrew and heading to his room.

INT. JOSH’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

And though he’s clearly exhausted, his work isn’t quite done yet for the day. He takes off his beanie and tosses it onto his desk, collapsing onto his bed that’s basically just a mattress stacked on a cheap wire frame about a foot off the ground. He leans back against the wall and pulls his laptop from the nightstand, opening it and finding the email from the manager of “Iris” as promised.

Willing his energy to last him another few minutes, he turns on his headphones and slides them over his ears. He cues up the demo and listens…

And everything changes. In an instant, life returns to Josh’s drained underpaid body, eyes widening and posturing straightening. He starts nodding his head along to the music, and already we can see the ideas forming in his mind – arrangements, small tweaks, producer’s touches that will elevate this song to the next level.

This is it. This is the song that is going to change everything.

Josh: Fuck YES!

Josh turns up the volume and jumps to his feet, grooving around his tiny bedroom while he listens to the new song. Though it’s not the same track, an upbeat, bumping track of our own kicks off –

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

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Nice To Meet Ya” as performed by Niall Horan || Performed by Maya Hart

Maya is preparing for her first audition. She’s back in full diva form, her hair and makeup glamorous and glossy. She smacks her painted lips together before taking a step back from the mirror. She checks herself out, impressed with her overall look. She gives herself a wink, oozing with confidence.

I like the way you talk, I like the things you wear I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear

She’s definitely feeling herself as she sings out what she imagines the producers she’ll be auditioning for will be thinking. As she sings “disappear,” Maya spins around in her room, arms outstretched. The camera spins with her, taking us into another scene.

INT. VARIOUS AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

And we’re off onto the whirlwind of auditions Maya is chasing this week. She confidently struts into her first one, where a table of four PRODUCERS are waiting for her. As she approaches them, Maya introduces herself…

I wanna blow your mind, just come with me, I swear

She moves onto her mark, performing the rest of the verse for them.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - DAY

When we move into the chorus, the four producers stand around Maya in an empty space, the camera spinning around them as they repeatedly tell Maya, “I got love for you.”

Maya smirks from the middle of the circle as she tells them, “Nice to meet ya…”

INT. VARIOUS AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

Maya enters another audition room, almost identical to the last one. The four producers sitting behind the table, however, are all Maya, dressed in different outfits. It kind of has One-Direction-talking-to-themselves in the “Best Song Ever” music video energy, each version of Maya a different Hollywood-esque caricature. It’s as if she’s still looking into her mirror, playing pretend as she tells herself what she wants to hear in her auditions.

Nice to meet ya, what’s your name? Let me treat ya, to a drink

Maya walks towards the table of her producers from her mark as she auditions for them, a flirtatious tone to her voice and in her expression. She talks them up, complimenting them for her own benefit. In this case, that’s not hard to do, considering they’re all her.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - DAY

Just like the previous chorus, the four Maya producers join the earlier ones in the imaginary space. Maya laps up their praise, each compliment adding to her confidence.

Suddenly, the producers disappear and Maya is left alone. She glances around, takes a deep breath, then takes off running to the next audition.

INT. VARIOUS AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

As she sings the bridge, she makes her way through several different auditions. A mix of regular producers and their Maya counterparts watch her and make notes.

You know what I need, you know what I want You know what I need now

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - DAY

When the song momentarily slows, Maya stops running. She’s back in the empty space, and one Maya-producer stands in front of her, dressed in a smart suit, reminiscent of Taylor Swift’s “The Man” music video. The producer looks Maya up and down as she gets close, inspecting her in detail.

Nice to meet ya, what’s your name? Let me treat ya, to a drink

The producer steps back, joining all of the producers that appeared previously, both normal and the Maya versions. They all circle around Maya, who looks between them, constantly changing her focus as she sings.

The camera goes in close to Maya as she sings the final “Nice to meet ya…”

INT. AUDITION ROOM - DAY

When we zoom out, we see that Maya is in another audition room, standing in front of a table of new producers and having just finished her audition. She’s out of breath, having given it her all, and the reception from the producers is pleasant. Pleasant, but not effusive. Hard to read.

Welcome to the industry. Maya flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and gives them one last dazzling smile before strutting out of the room.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Jade is at her desk, immersing herself in the output of the company by flipping through lookbooks and sketches that are essentially considered study materials for the new apprentices each year. She’s finished much of her menial tasks for the day already.

But her adventures in apprenticing are truly just beginning. She’s startled when Melanie appears at her desk, cheerfully greeting her and carrying a stack of thick black binders.

Melanie: Now that you’ve been here for a month and haven’t buckled yet, it’s time to start introducing you to more assignments. Where you’re going to start is with the inventories.

She drops the hulking binders on Jade’s desk, causing the whole thing to shudder. Jade’s picture of her and Nigel almost falls over, but she catches it just in time and holds it in place. Melanie carries on without notice.

Melanie: With three shows on the horizon and Paris fashion week wanting preliminary designs by end of the month, this is an important part of the process. Your job is to go through each binder and make sure the inventory information prepared here in the catalogue matches our database, and that all the information is up-to-date.

Sure, sounds easy enough… except for the fact that these binders are thick. Jade tentatively flips open the one on top, skimming her thumb along what must be at least 100 pages. Even better, the database she’s supposed to work off of isn’t even fully online – Melanie drops their handwritten catalogue of information on top of the stack.

Honestly, what exactly Jade is supposed to be doing here hardly matters. What matters is that it’s clearly a lot, and it’s clearly going to be mind-numbing, tedious, time-consuming work.

Melanie: We need this by, oh… end of the week. You can handle that, right?

Jade: Um… sure. No biggie.

To be fair, Jade has been working under insane deadlines for years with Adams, but at least costuming is a very active, creative job and something she actively loves. Paperwork… not exactly the most glamorous gig.

But she’s putting in her time at the bottom rung, and she’ll do whatever needs to be done. She can probably learn something out of it at least, getting exposed to their inventory system and such. Melanie leaves her with the binders and a “best of luck” that feels far from sincere.

Jade releases a grounding sigh and then pulls the handwritten inventory record off the top of the pile, deciding to start her investigation there.

EXT. NEW YORK COLLEGE OF THE ARTS - DAY

Zay and Henrik are walking campus, their attire indicating they’ve come from a morning rehearsal / workout session together. While Henrik is on his way to a ballet seminar and then freestyle lab – and clearly keen for it – Zay is remarkably less enthused. His schedule today is loaded with his absolute least favorite thing: academia. As he explains, one big piece of the transfer experience is that aside from the transfer-specific courses, they frontload your first year with a whole bunch of general education credits so that you have them out of the way and it doesn’t interfere with you jumping into the program theoretically one year behind.

That’s not a bad strategy, and as Henrik points out in his effort to cheer him up, it will be nice to be done with all those boring academic classes early on. True, but he has to get through them first… which he is not enthused about as he stops outside his lecture hall. Henrik pats him on the back and wishes him luck before continuing on his way.

Zay turns toward the humanities building, exhaling a weighted sigh.

INT. LECTURE HALL - DAY

Zay makes his way inside and finds a seat amidst the crowd, all of them settling in for their history and social sciences course requirement. The first slide being projected on the screen reads “War, Religion, and the Story of Nations: An Introduction to History & Philosophy.”

It’s a wonder just what exactly they’ll cover in such a broadly inclusive title, but it sounds like Zay’s worst nightmare. Still, it does make him think of something… he pulls up his messages and hovers over Charlie’s contact, starting to type a message.

But then he stops, looking at that last unanswered text. If Charlie wanted to answer, he probably would have. He’s busy. And is whatever silly dumb thing he wants to tell him really worth interrupting his travels?

Probably not. Zay swipes to a different contact instead, typing a different text.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Riley is in a Gen Ed class of her own when she gets his message, the notification popping up on her open laptop screen where she’s taking notes. She glances up towards the professor, who is clearly not paying her any attention in a room full of over one hundred students all doing the same as her, and then clicks open her messages to read it.

“just sat down in a class called war religion and the story of nations. pls kill me right now”

“literally how much u wanna bet tho that Charlie would’ve taken this for fun”

Riley does her best to hide her smile as to not tip off her reading something other than mathematical notes, typing out a response.

INT. LECTURE HALL - DAY

Zay reads Riley’s text as soon as it comes through, the two of them exchanging a few more messages before Zay’s class starts.

Riley Matthews: Hahahaha he so would have!! that sounds like that one book he was reading in the spring that he kept talking non-stop about

Zay Babineaux: he reads a lot of books and talks non-stop abt them. u’ll have to be more specific

Riley Matthews: it was the one that was like 500 pages

Zay Babineaux: still need more specifics

Riley Matthews: it was about like… like your class LOL. like the whole history of human kind in a nutshell. pretty sure you made some joke about its title and gay

Zay Babineaux: OH SAPIENS

Zay Babineaux: but no literally that is basically what this class is i’m pretty sure

Zay Babineaux: charlie would be so insufferable in a class like this. it would b hilarious

Riley Matthews: you’ll have to tell him about it for sure

There’s a pause between messages, then Riley starts typing again.

Riley Matthews: have you heard from him recently?

It’s sent casually enough, as most texts are able to appear, but the impact it has is immediate. Much of the levity of discussing their missing friend is zapped out of the conversation, just leaving the unaddressed feeling of his absence in its wake.

On the one hand, if Riley’s asking, at least that means he isn’t the only one being metaphorically left on read. On the other, if Charlie’s slipping more and more off the grid, then Zay can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever hear from him again. Maybe the allure of freedom and romance and adventure abroad is so superior, he’ll simply never come back.

It’s something Zay clearly doesn’t want to consider, and thankfully, his professor starting the lecture gives him an escape hatch. But as the course begins, he shoots off an answer as to not leave Riley hanging.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Riley frowns, not having to work to hide that expression change.

Zay Babineaux: nope

Definitely not the answer she wanted.

INT. NYU - FILM CLASSROOM - DAY

Isadora enters her next class, a mix of hesitant and excited. It’s her first actual production course, as the writing on the whiteboard indicates, and this is a much more intimate class. There’s only about fifteen of them in this section, a fraction of their year. Feels closer to being back in the A class.

Still, Isadora doesn’t know anyone yet, so she keeps to herself as she finds a desk closer to the front of the room. It’s a smaller classroom than any she’s been in yet, which seems to be more to her liking. She can’t get a read on her classmates yet just from a glance, but that doesn’t stop her from trying… and she gets caught doing so by one of them, a pretty Indian girl. She offers Isadora an awkward but pleasant smile.

It scares Isadora off just the same. Embarrassing! Thankfully, she’s spared having to think on it further by their professor entering the classroom, any minimal chattering dimming to silence as he shuts the door behind him and heads to the desk in the corner of the room without a greeting.

This guy is nothing like the other professors Isadora has confronted so far. He’s not smartly dressed like Professor Wright but neither is he trendy like Professor Schwartz. He’s… well, to be honest, he just seems like some guy, bespectacled and plainly dressed in a flannel and jeans. He’s nearly bald, with just a thin sheen of hair, and he most definitely has resting bitch face. This is PROFESSOR DAVID BENNET (40s).

He drops his bag in the desk chair and then turns to look at all of them, expression giving absolutely nothing away. He exhales through his nose -- not even a sigh to give them any sort of read -- and comes to lean against the front of the desk, half-sitting and crossing his arms.

Bennet: Welcome to Film Production 150.

No offense, sir, but you don’t sound especially welcoming. Isadora does her best to hide her own expression, hoping not to betray her unimpressed reaction so early on.

Bennet: This is the only actual production class they let you have your first semester, A.K.A, this is the only class where you’ll actually get to learn something important. Knowledge and theory has its purpose, a useful tool in your belt, but it’s in this class that you’re going to actually flex your filmmaking muscles. You can’t do anything in this world without action, and to do anything worthwhile requires practice. So in this class, that’s what we’ll do -- make a whole lot of films to practice, practice, practice.

Now he’s winning some points. This is exactly what Isadora has been waiting for.

Bennet: So. [ with an eyebrow raise ] Who’s got something to show us?

Um. What now? Isa’s eyes widen, and she glances around at her peers. Did she miss a memo? Was there some assignment on the syllabus she didn’t see?

To her relief, others seem as confused as she does, but that only gives her so much comfort. Bennet lets the silence drag on a painfully long time, before he bluntly elaborates.

Bennet: No one? Nothing? [ a beat ] Rule number one in this industry: always have a sample ready. I know you’re film students, and you got in here for a reason -- supposedly, at least -- so you’ve got to have something. Who’s got Vimeo? Youtube? Maybe you’ve at least got your application materials on Drive?

Slowly, a couple of hands start to go up -- hesitant volunteers. Bennet nods to one of them, an uncertain African-American boy, and gestures for him to come on up and pull up whatever page he wants on the laptop at the front.

Bennet: Much as it makes me convulse, the industry today revolves around platforms. You want to have one that shows your best work, reflects everything you are and everything you want to be. Whether you have followers or subscribers or snapchatters or whatever is irrelevant -- it’s what you’ve got on it that matters. Think of it like your digital business card. That way, the next time someone asks you if you’ve got something to show them, you won’t be caught sitting there with panic on your face like you just remembered you left the oven on.

A few students chuckle at that, trying to get it to alleviate the tension. Isadora is not one of them. She’s still stunned by the unexpected expectation, startled by a theoretical pop quiz she knows she failed. Five minutes into what’s supposed to be her favorite class, and she’s already been tripped up by another old white dude who doesn’t seem to have an emotional bone in his body.

Great start to the day. Isadora is still frowning as Bennet dims the lights and they shift focus to her peer’s online portfolio.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Jade comes back to her desk with fresh coffee from the kitchen, in a custom-made mug that was obviously a gift. It’s got a picture of the techie crew on one side and then her nickname, “Pins ‘N Needles” on the other -- presumably, each of the techies has their own.

She takes a sip and then settles into her chair, carefully placing it down and pulling her new task towards her. She has to take a second to figure out where to even like… start, but once she gets herself oriented she dives into the task with her usual level of vigor.

Only it doesn’t last long. Jade runs into what seems like an error pretty quickly, cross-checking it against the information they have in their online database as well as the handwritten version. And with a few more minutes spent, Jade realizes pretty fast that the whole thing seems riddled with inconsistencies and errors throughout.

That seems a lot more daunting and time-consuming than Melanie made it out to be. Jade cautiously clears her throat and asks Jamal if he’s got a second, to which he nods happily. She asks about the project and the inconsistencies, wondering if there’s a protocol for how they’re supposed to handle it.

Jamal: Oh, you’re working on an inventory?

Jade: Yeah. Melanie gave it to me.

Jamal: Yeah, don’t sweat it. Like, check the items you need to check for the most recent thing, or whatever, but I wouldn’t get too caught up in the details.

Jade: … okay… but it’s wrong?

Skylar tunes into the conversation, pulling out an airpod to ask what’s up. Jamal fills her in, and she nods in recognition, also familiar with the task.

Skylar: That’s one of those things Melanie gives us early on to break us in. Kinda like hazing, because she’s a tiny pixie psychopath.

Jamal: Every apprentice does it. The main part that matters is the upcoming projects she’s highlighted -- as long as they’re right in that binder, then your job is done.

Skylar: People barely use the inventories anyway.

Right. For sure, for sure… Jade doesn’t seem convinced, but it does seem like a lot less work to just focus on the assigned portion and not clean up after everybody else. And Jamal and Skylar are both seasoned apprentices who have stuck around, so they would know. They haven’t steered her wrong yet. So she puts her head down and doesn’t ask any more questions.

EXT. GLOBAL BEAT - DAY

Josh is in much more confident spirits as he heads into the office bright and early the next morning. He’s practically still dancing, the track from his client putting a spring in his step. Even as he’s having a less-than-agreeable back-and-forth with Riley on the phone, he’s got a smile on his face.

Riley: All I’m asking is you give them a chance.

Josh: Riley, I get what you’re doing, and you’re a great friend for doing it. Seriously, more people in the world should be like you.

Riley: Well, this is your chance to be that good in the world!

Josh sighs, stepping into the doors of the Global Beat headquarters.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Josh emerges from the elevator with phone still to his ear, carrying on the conversation. He waves or nods to coworkers as he goes.

Josh: I’m not trying to be a dick, but I just really don’t have the time to be meeting up with all your little friends. I have my own stuff going on.

Riley: I know, I know, but this goes hand-in-hand with your stuff you’ve got going on. Because you’re always looking to nurture new talent, aren’t you? Finding the next hot and happening act?

Josh: Yes…

Riley: Then this is exactly what you’re looking for! I swear to you, Farkle, Yindra, and Maya are some of the most talented people I have ever met. They are destined to make it big. Don’t you want to be in on the ground floor of that?

Josh: I’m not saying they aren’t, but --

Riley: This isn’t me pitching them to you as my friends. Don’t think of it as oh, I’m meeting Riley’s silly high school friends. This is a serious business matter, and I’m presenting you with unlimited star potential.

Josh: Why are you going into theater again? You should really be going into sales. Or like, politics. Didn’t you get your basket case boyfriend elected even though he was almost expelled like five times?

Riley: Josh. Pleeease? Please say you’ll consider it. Please. Please. Please --

There’s that uncle-niece dynamic shining through. Josh makes it to his desk, groaning and agreeing mainly just so Riley will lay off.

Josh: Okay, okay okay okay! Fine, you win. I will consider meeting with them.

Riley: Thank you, thank you! Seriously, Josh, you’re not going to regret it.

Josh: But they have to reach out to me. And it’ll have to be around my schedule. No guarantees --

Riley: Of course, totally. I will tell them. THANK YOU!

Josh hums a reluctant agreement and tells her goodbye, not wasting a second once he’s free. He drops his stuff and then grabs his laptop, making a beeline for the recording studios.

He isn’t going to need Riley’s friends. He’s got a hit to start mixing.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

There’s less momentum in another pocket of L.A., Maya loafing around the apartment between auditions. When she’s out there doing the thing, she’s nothing but star power, but when she gets back to their place and she has nothing going on, it clearly deflates her a bit.

This is especially true given she’s all alone. Farkle’s in class for so much of the week, which leaves her to her own devices -- a fact that hangs over her but she tries not to think about, always forcing herself to look away when she finds herself casting a glance towards his empty room.

She has found other ways to keep busy, though. On her baby pink laptop, she’s doing social media maintenance, keeping her Youtube, Instagram, and TikTok updated. She’s savvy enough to realize that a platform is crucial for any aspiring performer these days, and so she sure is delivering. We can see she’s made videos about her recent run of auditions, and on her Instagram, she’s got a glam photo promising a new video soon about her style tips specifically for auditions -- how to balance unforgettable glamor with grounded function that will make anyone the ideal person to cast just from a look.

Her efforts have been ongoing since the summer, and it shows -- she’s already got a decent starting follower count. Not Dylan Orlando levels, or anything, but she’s got an audience.

EXT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

One of whom might be someone she already knows. Yindra has Maya’s Instagram pulled up on her phone during her break, sort of envy-scrolling through it. Just like the days of Adams, it seems as though Maya just has it all effortlessly figured out, and her confidence bleeds through the page… confidence that Yindra seems to have all but lost under the relentless grind.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

On the flip side, Lucas spends far more time avoiding his phone than envy-scrolling through it. He only pulls it from his pocket during techie seminar that afternoon because Riley is texting him, wishing him a good day and ever so gently reminding him that he needs to submit his time capsule items.

That’s not the only unread text he’s got, though. Just a couple message threads down, his thread with his mother is bolded denoting it has unread messages, the most recent one previewed on the screen:

“Will you be home tonight? Hoping for a little help with…”

Lucas hovers over the message, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to open it. For whatever reason, he’s more comfortable leaving it unopened, pretending he never saw it. That he’s unreachable, and that he doesn’t need to feel guilty for that.

He’s spared for now by Timmy darting into the wings, giving him an update in a perplexing delivery that’s both nonplussed and inappropriately excited.

Timmy: TA Friar? Bean stapled himself to the curtain again.

Lucas’s expression says everything. For the love of fucking God. He rolls his eyes and goes to address this bizarre freshman dilemma, Timmy following after him in delight.

At least this problem has a simple -- if ridiculous -- solution.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - LOBBY - DAY

Nigel is departing from campus for a change of scenery today, waiting in the lobby of the Anya Kelly studio to be led inside. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself while he waits, feeling distinctly like an outsider given he’s just some college kid -- and the receptionist might be watching him a bit too suspiciously. Nigel offers an awkward smile.

Nigel: Just waiting for my girlfriend. Like I said. She’ll be here any minute.

Receptionist: Mhm…

It’s unclear whether she just generally doesn’t trust this random teen hanging around the lobby, or if she doubts he even has a girlfriend to begin with. But his story is corroborated when Jade finally emerges from the elevator, grinning as she comes to greet him with a hug and quick kiss on the cheek.

Jade: Come on, I want to show you everything -- have a good lunch, Roz.

ROZ grunts in affirmation, allowing them to pass. Jade takes Nigel’s hand and leads him to the elevator, the latter looking very relieved to free of Roz’s scrutinizing glare.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

They step out of the elevator and onto the main floor, Jade holding out her arms.

Jade: Welcome to the studio.

If Jade working hard in the costume loft of Adams was impressive back in the day, this set-up is that magic on steroids. It’s a flurry of activity, costumers and seamstresses working in their own rhythm with flourishes and urgency. Then you have the assistants, administrative and marketing teams, bringing the official corporate feeling to things. It’s a well-oiled, creative machine.

Nigel takes it all in with wide eyes and awe as Jade leads him through the floor, pointing out different people, roles, and techniques. No one really notices them -- she’s just the apprentice, after all, and Nigel is even less than that. Here, he’s just the boyfriend, so he’s nothing.

The reception is warmer when they make it to the apprentice corner, Jamal and Skylar hanging out at their desks and perking up when Jade introduces them.

Skylar: Hey, look who it is. Mister picture boy.

Nigel seems puzzled by this reaction at first, but then he sees the photographs on Jade’s desk. Though Asher also has presence, it’s not hard to tell them apart, and based on the photos picked, Nigel is obviously the boyfriend -- a fact he’s pleased with, if the small smile on his face is any indication. He accepts Jamal’s handshake.

As the group of them get to chatting, Jade explains that Nigel is just stopping by for lunch, but she wanted to show him the studio. Jamal and Skylar are all for it -- it’s nice to get some fresh blood in here every once in a while, remember there are people who exist on the outside of these walls. They ask Nigel what Jade has told him about the job, if it seems like the coolest job ever or quite possibly the seventh level of Hell.

Nigel isn’t sure how to answer, because honestly, Jade hasn’t said much about it. Like, they talk about it, of course, but she usually keeps the nitty-gritty details to a minimum. This is mainly because she’s still figuring it all out, and Jade only likes to speak on things when she knows what she’s talking about, but it still makes Nigel feel a bit odd that he doesn’t have an easy response.

But Jamal and Skylar don’t mind. In fact, they love it, claiming that they need to give Nigel the true Anya Kelly Studio tour then. Between the three of them, they can get Nigel up to speed in minutes -- and it’ll be a nice break from the menial tasks they’d have to do otherwise.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Around Here” as performed by 9 to 5 - The Musical Original Cast || Performed by Jamal Allen, Skylar Albright, Jade Beamon, & Nigel Chey (feat. Ensemble)

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

The lyric sheet makes this song pretty easy to visualize, as it’s mainly Jamal and Skylar sharing lines back and forth as they walk Jade and Nigel through the design studio. The tone takes on more of a satirical, cheeky slant with this duo, both of them kind of mocking the intensity of the whole thing, since we already know they’re both very laid back, and they’re exaggerating just to mess with Nigel -- kind of.

While they’re traversing the main floor, the rest of the employees in the studio take over the ensemble bits, singing along while they do their sewing and designing. Nigel is definitely overwhelmed by it all, sticking close to Jade and occasionally ducking behind her, like when he almost gets clocked by a rolling rack of costumes. She does her best not to laugh at him, but she’s obviously amused by Skylar and Jamal’s tour.

When they finish their first lap and make it back to their desks, they’re intercepted by Melanie, who takes the Roz bits. She sweetly chastises Jade’s desk decor and informs her such clutter is discouraged -- literally taking the photo of Nigel and placing it face down on the desk when he’s standing right there. But she doesn’t even notice him, considering she completely ignores his introduction when it happens.

Once they’re done spilling the tea about Melanie, Jamal and Skylar turn in unison and face Nigel and Jade, challenging him to recap everything they’ve just run through. Then the four of them hitch a ride on a costume rack to breeze through the main floor while the ensemble breaks into full musical theater song and dance -- definitely finally feeling like some classic AMBITION magic that we’re sorely missing without the assembled theatricality of the A class.

Once they dismount the racks and end up back at the desks, the number comes to a close, our tour of the real business world neatly concluded.

Jade: Get it?

Nigel: Got it.

Jamal/Skylar: Good!

Jade beams and pats Nigel’s arm, a small congratulations for surviving the run through.

INT. USC - MUSIC CLASSROOM - DAY

Farkle is in the midst of his one music class of the semester, Voice I for Musical Theater. Today though, they’re not focusing on singing but on the things which music is built upon -- music theory. The instructor, PROFESSOR WILHELM WEBER (50s), greets them all cheerfully before gifting them with a pop quiz of his own. This will assess how familiar each of them are with the foundational concepts of theory so that he can get a better baseline understanding of where they’re at as a class.

While most of the class groans at all of the above, Farkle is thrilled and only just manages to hide it to those who don’t know him. An analytical quiz about a more objective area of music is right up his alley, he loves a test, and it spares him the task of having to socialize with his peers. So when Professor Weber hands him his test, he happily dives right in.

Speaking of fabulous music, an absolutely grating off-key voice floats in, singing some pointedly uplifting lyrics…

It’s a great day, a great day, yeah! The best day, the very best day…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

The… unique talent singing this… unique song (aptly titled “Very Best Day”) is Josh’s second client and his first meeting of the day. The guy belting his tone-deaf little heart out is ERNEST FLOYD (19), an aspiring singer-songwriter. As far as looks go, he’s really just some guy, but he has a sort of pathetic way about him that is oddly endearing, particularly his big blue eyes. Kind of like how one might feel about a stray kitten with a missing eye, or a stuffed animal you pulled from the dumpster.

And here’s the thing about Floyd: he cares. A lot. You can tell just from watching him, much as you wish you could hit the mute button, that he’s passionate about music. He writes his own music! He takes advantage of every opportunity! He’s in there giving it his all!

If only he could carry a tune… Josh winces just slightly as Floyd goes for a high note, but he’s very good at maintaining a pleasant neutral expression. Today, it’s easier than ever, because he’s not really paying attention -- he’s more focused on the mix he’s doing of Iris’s single.

He only zones back into the present when Floyd finishes singing, addressing Josh directly.

Floyd: How was that take? Was that one good?

Josh: Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, really great, Floyd.

Floyd: You think so? I felt pretty good about that one.

Josh: Yeah. Definitely. Kickass.

Floyd beams, starting to gather his things from the recording booth. When he steps out into the studio, he thanks Josh for another great session.

Josh, offhandedly: Yeah, for sure, man. You know I believe in you.

Floyd: I do, and that means a lot. I really appreciate how you always give it your best effort, how you take me and my music seriously. You know, it just shows how you’re so different from most of the folks in Hollywood --

Josh: [ not even looking at him ] Right, yeah, yeah. We’ll get together same time next week and work through the records.

For how admittedly rude Josh is being at the moment, so tied up in his big project, Floyd doesn’t pick up on it. He remains earnest as ever, thanking Josh again and happily agreeing same time next week. Josh doesn’t even remember to return the goodbye, reaching for his headset and pulling it on to dive deeper into the mix now that he’s alone again.

Nigel, pre-lap: Pretty cool set-up. Seems like there’s a lot going on.

EXT. PARK - DAY

Nigel and Jade have left the hectic office for their shared lunch, having found a picnic bench in a trendy little park tucked in the garment district. Jade nods along with his assessment, finishing chewing her bite of sandwich.

Jade: Basically always. But that’s the real world, you know? Unlike Adams, there are actual legal and financial consequences for not meeting a deadline or making a mistake.

Nigel: Hey, that’s not true. We had plenty of financial consequences. I feel like the A class found just about all of them in four years. And honestly, we got pretty close to many of the legal ones too.

Jade shakes her head, smiling. She gets a bit of mustard by her lip and Nigel takes care to dab at it with a napkin, helping make sure she doesn’t get her nice work clothes messy. She thanks him, putting in an effort to eat more cautiously -- she’s not used to having to be so aware of her outward appearance.

Nigel points out it doesn’t seem like Jade is getting to do much… well, designing. She shrugs.

Jade: Have to start somewhere. Skylar has been there for a year, and she’s just starting to get assigned to a couple of projects.

Nigel: What about Jamal? I thought he’d been there longer.

Jade: Not sure. But I’ve only been there a month, and I have to pay my dues first. Doing the paperwork, you know, stuff like that.

Nigel: Don’t they have administrative assistants for that?

Shh, Nigel… if you start to question the system too much, you’ll threaten its shaky foundations… and right now, Jade is just happy to be there at all. She’s fine doing the grunt work for a bit, and at least she’s getting paid something to do it. Chump change, sure, but it’s something.

Jade: A lot of positions like this, internships and stuff, they don’t pay anything. They give people “school credit,” like that’ll cover all the free labor they’re doing. I’m lucky I’m not in that situation, especially since I don’t even know if BMCC has that.

BMCC, or Borough of Manhattan Community College, is where Jade is taking evening and online classes towards an associate’s degree -- just in case all this doesn’t quite pan out the way she wants. Nigel reiterates his admiration for her taking a chance on this when the opportunity presented itself. He’s not sure he’d be bold enough to take a risk like that.

Particularly since he can’t even introduce himself in class. When Jade asks him how his first day went, he quickly sidesteps, redirecting to the work Jade is immersed in. She’s supposedly doing important paperwork-y things, what are some projects she’s working on?

Jade sighs, explaining to him the big inventory task Melanie just dumped in her lap. It’s nice to be able to talk through it, too, as the discrepancies are still bothering her.

Jade: Jamal and Skylar told me not to worry about it, that it was like that when they did it too, so it’s not like I need to do anything about it. But I don’t know, I just feel weird ignoring obvious errors. Like, isn’t that going to create more work down the line? Why didn’t anyone take the time in the first place to fix it instead of just passing down the problems? The culture of it is just so different -- you know if I tell Asher about this, he’ll have heart palpitations just hearing about it.

Nigel: Yeah, undoubtedly.

Jade: I know I should just do what I’ve been told to do and not ask so many questions. And it’s not like I have to do any more work than necessary, especially since they’re paying me, but they’re not paying me that much. [ with a huff ] It just makes me itch, you know? Knowing that something could be done better, be done right, and doing nothing.

It’s a weird situation to be in… very classic young adult workplace uncertainty. Nigel takes her hand and gives it a squeeze, then does his best to offer advice. Obviously, he doesn’t know the rules of Anya Kelly’s studio, let alone the industry, but he does know Jade. Her instincts have always been spot on. He’s just some college freshman chump, but in his opinion, if she feels like she should do something in a way that’s better, then she should follow her gut.

Jade smiles, taking the advice to heart. It’s nice to remember there’s a world outside those studio walls, where the people who really know her are there to lift her up.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

After finishing off a piece of homework, Isadora pulls out the informational sheet for Professor Schwartz from a pile of flyers and sheets of paper she’s collected over the first week.

The boxes under “gender” are still as empty as ever. There are a few options, not just male or female, but Isadora can’t settle on any of them. Even “other” isn’t right, because then she’d have to write what other was in the provided space, and she doesn’t think “I have no fucking clue” would be an acceptable answer.

Isadora frowns at the paper, totally stuck on what to do. This should be so easy; she’s been a girl from before she was even born, and never anything else. She should just say that.

But… she can’t. It just isn’t right. Why isn’t it right? What the hell is she?

Her eyes fall to where she’d written “Isa” as her name at the top of the sheet. Is that who she is now? Just… Isa? It felt liberating when she introduced herself as that in class… maybe she should go by that in the rest of her life, too, not just college.

The moment that thought comes to her, a mix of excitement and fear settles in her gut. A million thoughts fill her brain, swirling around together, thus making all of them undecipherable. She decides the best thing to do right now is vocalize what she’s thinking, so she gets up.

INT. NYU APARTMENT – DAY

Interrupting Riley on the couch where she’s working, Isadora asks if she can talk to her about something.

Riley: Yeah, sure. Let me just save this…

After doing just that, Riley moves her laptop and shuffles on the couch to make room for Isadora. Isadora sits, but for a moment doesn’t say anything, unsure where to even start. Riley asks if this is about Maya and/or Farkle, but Isadora shakes her head.

Isadora: It’s about college. Well, not really. It’s about me. But in relation to college. But also not.

It’s safe to say that Riley has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. Isadora sighs, then takes a moment to collect her thoughts.

Isadora: I introduced myself as Isa in class and now I’m wondering if I want to be known as Isa in general, not just in class.

Riley: Okay. Sure. That would be cool, if that’s what you want.

Riley waits for more, knowing that Isadora can’t be this confused and all over the place simply because of her name…

Isadora: I also… well, I don’t know my gender. [ a beat ] Like, obviously I know that I’m a girl, but also like… maybe I’m not?

Oh... oh! Riley’s eyes widen in surprise and intrigue, but she tries to keep her expression neutral while Isadora continues.

Isadora: I don’t even know why it’s suddenly an issue. Like, I’ve never felt totally connected to the concept of gender, but I don’t know why that’s suddenly rearing its head now. I’m kind of worried that all this stuff with cutting my hair, changing from Isadora to Isa and questioning my gender is just me being like “LOL, let’s change my entire personality for no reason” again, you know? Like… is this even real? Or am I freaking out because of college and I should just stay who I’ve always been?

When Isadora doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, Riley realizes that she’s done and gives her a warm smile. Isadora’s slightly afraid expression doesn’t shift as she anxiously waits for Riley to process what she was just told and respond.

Riley: I don’t think it’s ever a bad thing to explore your identity. No matter the reason why you started to question your gender, it’s a valid experience, and you’re allowed to explore it and figure out what feels most right for you.

Isadora blinks. Was that it? Just a “you’re valid” and a metaphorical pat on the back? Not exactly what she was hoping for…

Isadora: So you don’t think I’m just changing myself because of college? Like when I did those makeovers with Maya and Chai?

Riley: I mean, unless there’s a pretty blonde girl at school you’re trying to impress with a gender identity crisis… [ off Isadora’s chuckle ] But no, I definitely think this is different. This isn’t you changing how you dress or present yourself, it’s about how you identify and who you are on the inside. And whatever you discover about yourself or decide about your identity, I hope you know that you’ve always got my full support.

Isadora: I do know. Thank you.

Riley beams, pleased with the outcome of the conversation. While she has Isadora’s attention, she decides to ask how things are going with her classmates.

Isadora: I mean, fine, I guess. I haven’t killed anyone yet.

Riley: Does that mean new friends? Or just lack of enemies?

Isadora, dismissive: Nobody makes friends in the first week. It’s fine.

Riley: … I’ve made friends.

Isadora: Really? Well, I suppose that makes sense. You’re Riley. [ a beat ] I’ll make friends eventually. It always takes me a little while to properly bond with people.

Riley nods, but the concern in her features is obvious.

Riley: If you want, I could introduce you to some of the people from my classes? They’re all lovely. I’m sure you’ll fit right in. [ a beat as Isadora quirks an eyebrow ] Well, maybe not “fit right in,” but… it’ll be better to have some friendly acquaintances on campus than nothing, right?

Isadora, defensive: I have you and Nigel. And Beatrix. She’s not in Tisch, but she’s… somewhere.

Riley: Sure, but it never hurts to meet new people…

Isadora: I don’t need you to set me up on playdates, Riley. I’m perfectly capable of making friends on my own. I mean, I had lots of friends at Triple A before you arrived.

Riley: You did?

Isadora scoffs, irritated at the implication that she can’t make friends on her own. Riley rushes to clarify that she didn’t mean to insult her or question her friend-making abilities, but Isadora is already standing up. A simple drum beat starts...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Have Friends” as performed by Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Original Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. those friends she definitely has)

If you’ve seen any of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, the somewhat ironic tone of the following sequence should be clear, but if not, feel free to get a taste of the original.

Isadora spins around to face Riley, transitioning into SMACKLE, her younger self from freshman year at Triple A. Her hair is longer and messier, the green hair dye nowhere to be seen. She’s wearing glasses and baggy black clothes that are far too big for her petite frame.

Smackle: I have friends, I definitely have friends. No one can say that I do not have friends!

Smackle turns and marches away. The environment around her shifts, transporting her back to the time she came from…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The halls of Triple A are filled with unfamiliar students. Smackle walks through the school, dodging oncomers who don’t see her effortlessly. She has an unnatural grin on her face to match the song that sounds like it came right out of a purple dinosaur-themed children’s TV show.

Each of Smackle’s so-called friends appear in front of the lockers in the hallway and we cut between them as they introduce themselves one at a time.

Young Asher: I’m Asher!

Young Lucas, uncomfortable: Lucas…

Young Dylan, enthusiastic: Dylan and I’m super into Taylor Swift and Spongebob!

Young Dave: Boy who’s tall!

Young Jade: The other techie girl.

Shawn: Teacher who lives in an RV behind the school.

Smackle: I have friends, I definitely have friends!

With all the “friends” introduced, Smackle spins her arms and points off screen to the right. The camera pans in that direction, the scene changing again.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora is back to her present day self. She’s looking to her right, as if looking at the younger version of herself, but then turns to face the camera.

Isadora: Oh yeah! I have friends, I definitely have friends. Objectively, I can say that I have all the friends!

She walks out of the apartment…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

And into Chubbies. As she sings, she approaches the counter and sits down on a stool.

Isadora: I have friends, I definitely have friends. Friends, friends, friendly friends. Time to meet my friends!

Once again, we cut between said friends as they introduce themselves.

Riley: I’m Riley!

The camera pans down to show that Riley is holding an open laptop, on which is a smiling DYLAN ORLANDO. He throws up a peace sign.

Dylan: Dylan!

The camera follows Lucas, who’s working behind the counter. He sighs and rolls his eyes, not saying anything as the music continues.

Moving on from Lucas, the other friends continue as normal.

Farkle: Guy you won’t text back.

Nigel: Friend of friend from high school…?

Eric: Adoptive dad who was originally your counselor!

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Back in the school hallways of past, Isadora and Smackle walk together. All the friends they just listed are walking behind them, their levels of enthusiasm varied. Riley is still holding the laptop with Dylan on it; he now has a dog filter on his face.

Isadora/Smackle: We have friends, we definitely have friends. No one can say that we do not have friends.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The group now walk along the streets of New York outside of Chubbies. Now Young Dylan is holding the laptop with present Dylan -- Young and present Lucas are standing about as far away from each other as possible while staying in the edges of frame.

Isadora/Smackle: We have friends, we definitely have friends. Friends, friends, friendly friends. We have all the friends. Cool!

With the final “cool!”, the group stops walking and all put their thumbs up. They all remain standing there for a beat, forcing themselves to smile. Lucas only manages a grimace, while others like Riley and Dylan look absolutely euphoric.

Lucas: Can we go now? I have shit to do.

The facade drops, with everyone mumbling in agreement with Lucas, mentioning what they should be doing or where they’re supposed to be. Young Dylan closes the laptop on his older self. The group members walk away, ultimately leaving just Isadora and Smackle, whose grins are becoming hard to maintain.

Eventually, Smackle sighs and drops her arms to her side.

Smackle: I need to get back to class.

Isadora: Oh, right. Of course. Bye, then…

Isadora watches the shorter, younger her walk off screen, then looks around. Even in her imagination, she ends up alone.

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

Maya is impatiently meandering away another evening, only this time it feels even more interminable since she’s simply waiting. Her big rush of auditions the last couple of days has ceased for now, and while she has a couple more up her sleeve this week, she frontloaded her schedule so she could be ready for callbacks when they arose.

Callbacks that, so far, she’s yet to hear about. So she’s looking for other ways to distract herself, currently reviewing her messages… which, to be honest, are kind of dry. With one best friend as her roommate and the other no longer speaking to her, suppose there’s just not much to be said. Aside from an always active thread with her mom and a couple of texts from Darby, things feel too quiet on the Mayan front.

But an older message does catch her eye. One Riley sent earlier this morning when Maya was still on an audition binge so she didn’t get the chance to properly process. It’s got Josh’s contact info and instructions on how best to reach him, with gentle (but enthusiastic) encouragement from Riley to reach out. Even if there’s no working partnership to be had, Josh is a good contact and invaluable resource in her eyes, so all of them should be trying to meet up with him.

And she’s probably right about that -- always good to have supposedly trustworthy contacts in Hollywood -- but Maya is more focused on the potential working partnership angle. Sure, she knows squat about Riley’s baby uncle, but he’s a connection, and if he’s not interested in her work then he at least knows multiple people in one of the biggest labels in the country and could pass her name along.

Taking advantage of every opportunity. Maya rallies herself and settles down to draft up a message to Josh, introducing herself and asking for his availability to meet up. She infuses it with her best charm and signature pops of personality, an irresistible combination…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

… that Josh doesn’t even read, immediately swiping away the notification without a second thought when it pops up on his phone. He’s far too immersed in his work for distractions, elbow deep in a killer mix of Iris’s single. He’s been at it for hours at the tail end of his work day and it’s clear he’ll be at it for hours more -- Phelps swings by to deliver him a coffee on their way out for the day, which he accepts gratefully.

Phelps: Try to actually go home tonight. Remember your coffee-stained shirt, Josh.

Josh: [ humming with a mouthful of coffee ] Yeah, yeah, mhm --

Phelps shakes their head. Lost cause. They peace out and Josh dives back into the music, energized with a certain all-consuming adrenaline and inspiration an artist of any medium would recognize as soon as they see it.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley, Isadora, and Lucas are sharing a somewhat late weeknight dinner, seated at the small dining table they have tucked behind the living area and between their two rooms. It’s not extravagant, but it’s cozy.

And right now, they’re conversing about a topic they all can chime in on -- Lucas’s return to Adams. Riley and Isadora are asking him a million questions, like how old places and teachers are faring, how Eric is as principal, whether the board seems to be having a tangible influence and of course, how the students are. Suffice to say, Lucas ending up as a de facto teacher at the school he never wanted to attend in the first place is something they all did not see coming and is, admittedly, incredibly funny in spite of the circumstances.

Although he doesn’t have much to offer given he’s only been in the role for a couple of days (and to be candid, isn’t the most observant guy there is), it’s clear Lucas enjoys actually being able to have something to talk about. He’s got a subtle smile on his face while Riley and Isadora avidly discuss his opinions on Adams and the freshman and everything in between, glad to be amusing them both and included in the conversation.

Isadora: I think that girl was right to question you, though. I would’ve. Like who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?

Lucas: I know. You basically still do that now. Unprompted.

Isadora: Eh.

Riley: It sounds like they like you, Lucas. That’s good. Not that that surprises me.

Lucas: Well, you’re biased, so…

Isadora: Eh…

Riley rolls her eyes, playfully kicking at both of them under the table. Seriously, though, Isadora agrees, and tells Lucas she’s sure he’s gonna be fine. If he’s got their respect already, that’s a good sign.

Isadora: Way better than my profs so far.

This, naturally, transitions the conversation squarely back to NYU. Riley tries to dig deeper as to why Isadora feels that way about her classes -- mainly Professor Wright and Professor Bennet -- the two of them spiraling into quick debate about it as effortlessly as they were discussing Adams.

Only now, Lucas isn’t smiling anymore. The change is subtle, but with just one shift in topic, it’s like he’s been locked out of the conversation. He simply can’t relate, because it’s not his world. Even college as a whole is something out of his realm now, so separate and apart from the disconnected and purposeless existence he leads.

So he tunes out, letting Riley and Isadora carry on without him. He picks at his food, but doesn’t eat any more.

Nigel, pre-lap: It’s definitely… new.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Nigel is on the phone with Yindra, the two of them catching up after the first couple days of classes for him. Yindra is dying to hear all about it, seeing as they’re her only window into another life beyond the one she chose. She still clearly has no interest in academia, but admittedly, the structure and purpose of college suddenly holds more appeal than it did at the end of high school.

Yindra: That doesn’t exactly sound like a glowing endorsement. Don’t tell me Tisch isn’t the bitch it was cracked up to be.

Nigel: No. No, no, it’s not that at all. It’s just… it’s different. New faces, new setting, you know? I gotta… it takes time to adjust to that. I’m still getting a feel for it.

Yindra: For sure, for sure.

Nigel: And you know, it’s like, none of us are battling anything near the world Jade’s climbed into. She showed me around the studio today and it’s just like… wow.

Yindra: Wow good or wow yikes?

Nigel: Honestly, no clue. It’s… a lot.

It all feels like a lot. The whirlwind of the industry through Jade’s eyes, the new pond at NYU. Even Zay’s cutthroat competition.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

We intercut with Los Angeles, where Yindra nods along from where she’s perched on her bed. She’s trying to practice some self-care by painting her toenails.

Yindra: Oh yeah, I got that vibe real quick. He’s canceled on me for a catch-up twice already because he’s all “I’ve gotta rehearse.” He’s not going Diva Zay again, is he? Because if he is, Nige, you need pull your badass out from last winter and smack him upside the head before it’s too late.

Nigel: No, thankfully, I don’t think so. At least, not to that degree -- he learned his lesson the first time.

Yindra: Damn hope so.

Nigel: He’s just spooked. And that’s how you know it’s real, if even Zay Babineaux is shaken up. We all are. [ a beat ] I mean, unless you’re Riley.

Yindra: That’s my girl.

Nigel: She introduced herself first in our musical theater class no sweat. And she already has like I guess four dozen friends.

Yindra: Sounds like Riley, yeah. And is that a problem?

Nigel: No. No, of course not. And she’s doing a lot to actually keep the group together and functional which is no easy feat. It’s… I just…

Nigel shakes his head, ending the thought before it can really crystallize. It may be slightly envy-inducing that Riley just has everything so effortlessly under control, but he’s not going to begrudge her for that. He’s lucky to have her in his corner, and he’s not going to forget that.

So he changes the subject, shifting gears to Yindra instead. How are the auditions going? Any developments? Yindra hesitates for a moment before assuring him same old, same old, just staying on that audition grind and keen for opportunities when they arise. She purposefully avoids mentioning all the hours she’s spending wasting away at the diner rather than on audition runs like Maya, or that her confidence and interest in doing so has simmered to dangerously low.

Instead, she exaggerates, easily rattling off the theoretical auditions she’s got going or small gigs she’s booking. All according to plan. It’s not like any of her New York friends would know any better, and the truth is, she doesn’t want them to know the truth. She doesn’t want them to know she’s basically on her last legs three months into this -- this was her choice, to defy norms and take the untraditional path, and now she needs to fake it ‘til she makes it (or breaks it).

Nigel doesn’t question it, a firm believer in Yindra’s capability. He has no reason to doubt her. There’s only a shade of guilt on her face as the conversation moves on, the distaste of lying to one of her best friends bitter in her mouth.

EXT. RUINS OF POMPEII - DAY

The gripping and ancient scenery of Pompeii transition us to a new morning thousands of miles away, the ruinous city now a monument of historical wreckage and a tourist must-see for those traveling through Italy.

The site of one of the most gruesome natural disasters in human history, it’s kind of right up Bridgette’s alley. She takes a photo of some of the destroyed columns and architecture, admiring her shot, before turning to look for her brother.

He’s not hard to find, and he is similarly very in his element. Charlie is crouched down in the dirt and gravel by some of the architecture, checking out the ancient graffiti scattered along the stone. Totally immersed, not paying any mind to whether other tourists are looking at him or judging him, living his best history-culture-nerd life. Much more like the brother Bridgette knows, not suavely confident on the streets of Naples or stiff in the crossing of hostel mates.

He looks over his shoulder at her, tossing her a giddy grin. Can you believe all this?

Bridgette saunters over to join him as he rises back to his feet.

Bridgette: What’s the hot goss from 79 A.D.? Which poor gal is getting called a slut on the ancient bathroom walls?

Charlie: My Italian isn’t that good, let alone my ancient Italian. But I’m sure we can find a placard to tell us more about it. [ as they start to walk ] Did you know that Pompeiians didn’t even know what volcanoes were back then?

Bridgette: Damn. No kidding.

Charlie: Seriously. They didn’t know Vesuvius was a volcano. They had no word for that. They just thought it was a really big mountain. Imagine how terrifying that would be, waking up one day and your entire world is quite literally going up in flames. And you don’t realize you live so close to an erupting geological structure, so you just think the gods are punishing you with fire and fury.

Bridgette: Grim. Though think you should have no trouble imagining that -- isn’t that how you lived like fifteen years of your life? Waiting for your Pompeii?

Charlie rolls his eyes, elbowing her and earning a smirk in response. He didn’t immediately withdraw into himself or start having a panic attack, though, so that’s progress!

In any case, Bridgette is ready to see where they keep the preserved corpses from the ash. And she’s on a special mission in that regard as well -- Daisy caught word via Rosie they were here, and she wants pics.

Charlie: For science?

Bridgette: Or because our baby sister is a maladapted insane person, but hey, aren’t we all? But probably mostly the science fix.

Charlie: I’m going to choose to believe it. But yeah, the science of it is fascinating. [ eagerly ] Oh, and just wait until you read about their teeth.

Whatever the hell that means -- clearly, Charlie has done his reading. Because of course he did. Yes, this is the Charlie Bridgette knows, and she quite prefers this version of him.

He leads the way and Bridgette follows after him, smiling to herself.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

At a booth by the door, two older women have taken up residence opposite each other. They both have to be somewhere in retirement age, but spry for their ages, with a quick wit and rapid rapport with one another. This is MAISIE (70s) and EFFIE (70s).

By how easily they occupy the booth, it’s clear they’re Chubbies regulars. They’ve got laptops and papers with notes and diagrams spread out between them -- like the classical story arc, which any writer would recognize a mile away.

Effie: I’m only saying, I think it needs a name that really rolls off the tongue. Something snappy. Like… Oscar. How about Oscar?

Maisie: Ef, we already have a character named Oscar.

Effie: Oh yeah. Well, nevermind then.

Lucas emerges from the back room, having finished up the early morning shift before his day starts at Adams. Maisie and Effie brighten at the sight of him, greeting him cheerfully and waving him over to chat. Lucas obliges, familiar with the two of them after a year of working at the diner (and they usually tip well).

Nice as the initial hellos are, Lucas steps into an unwanted conversational trap pretty quickly. Both ladies comment on how they’re so surprised to see him -- suppose they must have just missed his shift if he’s no longer working the same hours, but they thought they wouldn’t be seeing him around anymore. Wasn’t he supposed to be in California?

Effie: Or was it Carolina? One of them? I always get the states mixed up.

Maisie: Effie, you’ve lived in the States for decades…

Effie: And?

Maisie: But yes, it was California. UC Davis, right?

Lucas: Um, yeah.

Effie: Your memory is unbelievable. What enhancers are you taking? Or just drugs?

Maisie: Oh, I’d never forget a fact about this fella right here. Best busboy there is, with the most intriguing of faces. I tell ya, there’s something deep behind those eyes. [ to Lucas ] I swear to you, someday, I will be writing a book about you.

It’s obviously not the first time Maisie has said so, and it’s meant as an unequivocal compliment, but it makes Lucas embarrassed all the same.

Maisie: So why no California? Decided to go to a New York school instead?

Effie: Or no school at all? That’s fine too. I didn’t go to uni and I turned out fine. It isn’t worth it if you don’t fancy it, right, Maise?

Maisie: Ask me again when I finish paying off my loans.

Effie: Still?

This sort of tangent-pattern is par for the course with these two. Lucas awkwardly cuts in to answer Maisie’s question, though he does so reluctantly.

Lucas: Um, no New York schools. California was the plan but I, uh… I had to defer.

Maisie: Oh, no.

Effie: Sorry to hear it, love.

Maisie: Well, hey, it’s just a deferment, right? So this time next year, right as rain.

Lucas: … maybe, yeah.

Effie: I don’t know, M. Remember our friend? The one with the middle part? Her daughter deferred and then you know what? Never ended up going. Just stayed glued to the basement couch for the next thirty years. Honestly don’t even know what’s become of her now. [ a beat ] But you’ll be fine, strapping, hard-working guy like you, Lucas.

Thank you, Effie… Lucas forces a smile and excuses himself, wishing both of them a good breakfast. They send him off happily, watching him head out of the diner. When Maisie speaks again, it is with wise certainty.

Maisie: True western hero in that one. Story of a lifetime, I’m telling ya.

No arguments here, Maisie! As the fast-paced, turbulent orchestral music picks up --

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

No days off in the transfer program, where they’re picking up hard work right where they left it for second class with Professor Gao. Rosario walks in front of the wall of mirrors as she explains to them that they’ll be doing across the floor exercises today for warm-up, so they should take position in two lines at one end of the room.

Rosario: As you may have noticed, our studio seems more spacious this morning. That’s because it is -- three of your peers have already dropped this class. This isn’t surprising: by the end of the first week, we usually find the number of those willing to stick out the rigorous expectations of this year shrinks considerably. You may find it wise to weigh that reality for yourself.

Zay needs no such time. He’s determined and ready to go, not backing down and certainly not contemplating dropping. Vanessa seems to be thinking the same, tying her hair back out of her face in a tight knot of curls.

Rosario counts them in, and the first set of students take off across the floor in a combination of turns, jumps, and steps. The combinations start simple and build in complexity and intensity with each return back across the room -- Rosario only instructs them with the steps seconds before they go, so they need to be quick on their feet and precise in their movements.

To the credit of those who stuck around, everyone seems to be in better shape this morning. The dancers are sharp and energetic, all together seeming more like the crop best suited to scrap for an advance to the big leagues. Zay and Vanessa are no longer the obvious standouts, and despite her tap-out last class, Gia is gliding across the floor with easy confidence and effortless accuracy.

As the steps get more complicated, Zay and Vanessa keep an eye on each other, having sized each other up as their most direct competition. And they just so happened to end up next to each other in the rows, so each time they cross the floor, it’s the two of them keeping up with one another. Or, more accurately, trying to best one another -- floor exercises aren’t a competitive practice, but they’re sure making it one, trying to outshine the other and prove more deftness with their speed, precision, and energy than the other. Sure, this makes for a strong showing…

Until it goes one step -- or misstep -- too far. It’s not clear which one of them fumbles first, but while they’re so distracted in keeping one eye on the other, they overshoot one of their turns and end up drifting into the other lane. The two of them bump into one another which quickly spirals out of control and becomes a collision... and then an all-out wipe out. Zay and Vanessa both lose their footing and tumble to the floor.

Talk about falling from dancer’s grace. It’s an embarrassing show, especially since they were the only two crossing the floor, and the others behind them hang back to avoid the crash. For a moment, the only thing in focus is their collapse, the rest of their peers reacting in turn.

Zay grimaces to himself, pushing himself upright… before he remembers he’s on display. He swiftly pulls himself together after he realizes all eyes are on him, rushing to get to his feet again before Vanessa does. Neither of them offer the other a helping hand.

Thankfully, they both make it back upright before Rosario finishes approaching them. They both stand in front of her again, under her unreadable stare, just like on Monday when they were on top of the world. Now, they’re the failures -- but she still assesses them just the same. No praise; no beratement. Just cold judgment, plain and simple, with no hint as to what verdicts she’s making in her head.

Rosario: Back of the line. [ to the others without looking at them ] I don’t see why we’ve stopped. Petrov, Melendez, go.

Somehow, the blatant dismissal is worse than outright criticism. Zay and Vanessa scurry to the end of the line with their heads down, a few students including Gia not trying very hard to hide their pleasure at their screw up. It’s an even playing field once again…

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

In that same frenetic pace, Isadora is hunkered down at her laptop. She’s frantically organizing her samples, trying to get a perfect platform and presentation together at the last second. Spite is fueling her full throttle. If Professor Bennet wants to throw her a curveball again, this time she’s going to be ready.

EXT. NYU - LUNCH SPOT - DAY

Only all that determination has made Isadora busy and a tad forgetful… leaving just Riley and Nigel for lunch that day. It’s quiet as the two of them eat, both of them aware of how laughably quickly their grand plans of a recurrent lunch seemed to have fallen apart and torn about whether to acknowledge it or not.

Nigel, reassuringly: She’s probably just caught up in something. Not like you don’t see her every day anyway.

True enough… but it’s not quite the same, is it? Still, there’s always Friday, and this weekend when Riley wants the group to come back together to recap the week. Nothing worth overthinking. Riley manages a smile, just barely masking her disappointment.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

After another long class, Zay is sweaty and exhausted as he packs up his things. Across the room, Gia is making more allies with some of their peers, practically glowing since she emerged as the star of this round. She glances over her shoulder towards him -- totally not as if she was just talking about him -- and throws him a cheeky little wink.

Besties, am I right? Zay frowns, which deepens into a scowl when Vanessa passes him and makes a point of shoulder-checking him on the way.

Swell start to the middle of the week.

INT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

The day is just getting started over on the west coast, though, so perhaps they’ll have better luck. It’ll at least be interesting -- a new element is being introduced to Farkle’s acting class, another professor and a group of about 10 - 15 upperclassmen joining them in the auditorium.

As the professors explain, this is a common tradition they do with a few of the introductory acting classes. They have some of the older directing and producing students -- sophomores and juniors, mainly -- come sit-in once a week on the acting class to help observe, practice giving direction, and collaborate. It not only facilitates connection between the disciplines and years, but also is always a quite effective teaching tool.

So more people to judge him, then. Farkle eyes the assembled students on the stage warily. One in particular catches his eye -- a boyishly good-looking and curly-haired sophomore, JORDAN NELSON (19). He’s surveying the freshman with an intrigued aloofness, exuding an aura of thoughtful seriousness that makes him intimidating even just from a glance.

For a split second, they meet eyes, Jordan quirking an eyebrow when he catches Farkle gaping at him. Farkle immediately looks away, glancing towards the ceiling, then slouching slightly in his chair. God, why is existing normally so hard?

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

Still, the whole day is not a bust. As he’s heading out of class and cursing himself for not knowing how to function, Farkle’s peers catch up to him. They’re the same few who talked to him after class on Monday, seemingly just as authentically friendly as then -- when you’re freshman, everyone is friendly.

Peer 1: Yo, Farkle! [ with a laugh ] Man, I will never get sick of that name.

They let him know they’re all planning to go hit up this comedy show just off campus tomorrow night, as one of the cool older acting majors is performing in it and is supposed to be really good. Does he want to tag along with them?

Does he? Farkle does his best to play it cool, claiming he’ll have to check his schedule but that he should be free to join. The girl of the group gives Farkle her phone number so they can coordinate deets, but they’re planning to meet by Tommy Trojan and then walk over together.

Chill as he plays it, Farkle cannot hide the spring in his step when they leave and he continues his walk in the other direction. He got an invitation! To hang out! Maybe this college thing isn’t going to be a complete disaster after all.

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

He’s not the only one getting good news. Maya is elated when she gets an email from one of the auditions she went on, happily inviting her to a callback for an upcoming movie musical project.

Exactly as planned! Maya emails back an affirmation and request for date and time, then gets up and dances around her room in celebration.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Which is the same energy Josh has as he grooves around the studio to himself, practically vibrating. He just finished the mix on his client’s single after staying up all night to perfect it, so he’s jittery on caffeine and the rush of a brand new song. He finishes typing up an email to her to send the mix her way, humming pieces of it to himself.

The upbeat vibe is halted when another senior-level producer and their client enter the studio, expecting it to be empty and finding this junior 20-something dancing around on his own. Josh quickly straightens up and apologizes for staying late in the space, frantically gathering his things and bowing out.

The producer and client don’t seem all that fazed. It’s Hollywood -- they’ve probably seen far stranger things.

INT. NYU - CLASSROOM - DAY

Isadora arrives at Professor Schwartz’s classroom early, making sure that she’s there before any of the other students. Chelsea is sitting behind her desk, a pair of stylish glasses perched on the end of her nose as she frowns at her computer screen and taps aggressively on the keyboard.

Isadora gives a nervous knock on the open door as she takes one small step into the classroom.

Isadora: Professor Schwartz?

Chelsea looks up in surprise. A bright smile spreads on her lips when she sees one of her students in the doorway.

Chelsea: Come in, come in! And please, call me Chelsea. “Professor Schwartz” sounds so formal. [ as Isadora approaches ] What can I do for you?

Isadora: It’s about the informational sheet that we have to hand in today. I, uh… well, I haven’t been able to finish it yet, so…

Chelsea: Oh, it doesn’t matter, honestly. Like I said, most of the questions are optional, so anything you haven’t managed to answer you don’t need to worry about. Trust me, I’ve been given plenty of half-filled out forms before.

In a quiet, unsure voice, Isadora stutters out that it isn’t any of those questions that she’s having trouble with. She avoids Chelsea’s eyes, looking down at her feet as she talks, but then risks a glance up. Chelsea listens attentively, an understanding expression on her face.

Isadora: It’s, like, the worst timing that I’m suddenly having a bit of an identity crisis when there’s a deadline for the form, but I really am struggling to figure out what box to check, so I was just wondering if you’d be okay with me taking another day or so to do it? I promise I won’t be like this with any other assignments. I’m not usually like this.

Chelsea: Trust me, this is the perfect timing for an identity crisis. College is the best place to question things like gender, or sexuality, or the morals and belief systems that you were raised with. I discovered that I’m pan during college, so I totally understand how you must be feeling. I’m not going to force you to come to a conclusion about who you are right now.

Isadora sighs in relief, grateful. Chelsea gives her a reassuring smile.

Chelsea: Take the week, see how you feel, and if you still don’t know, just write down “unsure,” and whenever you feel settled with something, let me know. Or if you decide you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. This is a safe space; I won’t judge.

Isadora: Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.

Chelsea: Of course! I’m just grateful that you feel able to be honest with me about what you’re experiencing. If you ever need to discuss it again, my door is always open.

Isadora thanks her again as other students start to filter into the room. She hurries over to sit in the same place she did previously. A weight has been lifted off her shoulders, and while she still has a gender identity to figure out, it doesn’t seem quite as oppressive without the time limit.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Lucas is on his way back from the teacher’s lounge, clearly feeling very awkward as he leaves it. Too recently it felt so off-limits, and now it’s one of his only designated areas to exist freely… he sighs to shake off the dissonance, heading back towards the auditorium.

He doesn’t get that far. He pauses before he rounds the corner when he hears a gaggle of underclassmen chatting about the changes in the school since Jack left -- particularly, in that moment, talking about him. While a couple of the girls remark how good-looking he is (to the disdain of some of the others), they’re all in agreement about one thing.

Student 1: It’s obvious he’s only here because he’s got nothing else to do. Like, wasn’t he like one of the worst students when he was here?

Student 2: But wasn’t he also class president?

Student 3: Barely. You know Principal Hunter just gave that to him because he was his favorite.

Student 2: Probably why he’s here now, too. Eric definitely took pity on him.

Student 4: You heard what Mister Matthews said after English. Friar has like, no drive. Total deadbeat. He’s convinced he’s gonna like brainwash the new techies into being demons.

Student 3: I still don’t like, get it, though. Wasn’t he supposed to be going to California?

Student 1: Well, evidently not, since he’s still here.

Student 2: Sad. If I got stuck here after graduating because I had nothing else going for me I honestly think I’d kill myself.

They laugh at the prospect, as if it’s oh so funny. So lucky, something they’ll never have to worry about… they’ve got plans and potential, after all.

Lucas’s expression betrays nothing outright, but given how stony it’s become, that says plenty. He doesn’t know what he’s even doing here -- he doesn’t know what he’s doing anywhere. It’s all such a joke. He’s a joke.

Oh so funny. Lucas turns on his heel and heads in the other direction, far away from the auditorium.

END OF PART 1.

#401 #episodes #s4 #oh HERE WE GO Y'ALLLLL

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