Down in the kitchen, Pops talks to Moms on the phone and tells her that, deep down inside, Morgan probably realizes that he fucked up, but he's not sure yet if Morgan really cares. Pops fills the Moms in on the situation and then says, "And I'm looking at these two bottles of wine and wondering whether I should drink one before you get home." Hee. That's what I'd do. Hell. I'd drink BOTH of 'em if I thought it would help. Or even if I thought it wouldn't help...
Upstairs, Morgan's cleaning his silver ball-bearing necklace and grudgingly saying he's sorry that people won't be able to see him graduate and all, and he's sorry that he did something stupid. Back down in the kitchen, the Pops is talking to the camera crew about how depressed the Moms is about the situation and how he doesn't really think Morgan is remorseful about his actions. Shocker. He's eighteen. Do YOU remember being remorseful about ANYTHING at eighteen? Hell, no. You're invincible. You can do any damn thing you want. Pops is lucky Morgan's even learned how to say the word "sorry." Seriously.
Then Pablo's blah-blahing about how his little sister is going to graduate that day too and he's going to see her be a big girl and then she's going to see him be a big boy. And maybe his mother will even let him wear the long pants and drive the car once around the driveway real slow! Shut up, Pablo. I just started liking you. Don't ruin it.
He goes on to say that she's been through a lot and that they've shared a lot of the trauma, and then he's taking pictures of Stephanie at her graduation (or "gradulation," as Stephanie refers to it), and she's wearing a little cardboard cap, and it's pretty damn cute, let me tell you. Her face is all smeared with chocolate and she's got a little rolled-up "diploma" and her chubby face is all smiley. Cute. Really cute.
Man. Pablo's losing the "like" factor already. He's going on and on and ON about how leaving home and leaving high school is like leaving four years of his life behind, four years that pretty much shaped what it is he'll be going for in the future and yet he's lost and blah blah blah shut-the-hell-up-cakes. It's high school, not a mission to Mars. Get a job at the mall and figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life. This ain't brain surgery, you know. It's pretty basic stuff.