Abalone informs us in a voice-over that she got deferred, and that it's frustrating because all of her other friends have managed to get into college. She says that it's a slap in the face when you get rejected for something. Dude. You were deferred, you weren't rejected. UW-Mad accepts over 10,000 students per year. Their score requirements aren't really all that (believe me, I checked). It's a really popular school, however, especially with Wisco residents; their freshman class is probably just full up. Let it go. Really.
Over a sweeping montage of multi-colored lockers, Allie tells us that she screwed around during her high-school career and that she doesn't have much time to prove that she can accomplish something. No shit, Sheer-Luck. Ugly Martha Quinn meets with Allie to go over her college essay which is, really, sort of chock-full of "I fucked up but I want to make good" vernacular that pretty much sounds like Allie trying to make excuses for herself. Ugly Martha Quinn goes on to say that her entire essay is all about how she had a horrible high-school career but she really pulled it together. Unfortunately, Allie's grades pretty much negate the central theme of her essay. "I know I'm lost," Allie says in an interview, "and yet, I have such direction. Because I know where the problems are. I know I need to solve them. I don't know how. That is where I'm lost. I don't know how!" Dude. It's over. Suck it up and get a job at Burger King. Seriously.
Elsewhere at the school, Brad's hanging out with a mutual friend of his and Abalone's. Mutual Friend says that Abalone was freaking out last night because Brad didn't call her. Mutual Friend says that Abalone is losing it. However, Abalone is not communicating this to Brad. But she somehow expects Brad to telepathically know that Abalone's upset. Whatever.
While walking down a snowy street outside of the school, Abalone confesses that she hasn't told any of her friends that she got deferred. God, this chick's got problems. YOU WERE DEFERRED. IT DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE A LOSER. Cut the cord. CUT IT. She goes on to say how the anxiety is killing her and she's ready to burst. I'm so over her right now that we need a new word for "over" to describe just how over her I am.