American High
Winter Chill

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Erin: C+ | Grade It Now!
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Winter Chill

All of Brad's friends are ecstatic for him except Abby. "I'm so emotional today and I don't know why," she whines as Brad puts his books into his locker. Brad wants to know if Abby's coming over tonight, and the tone of her voice when she responds in the affirmative is pretty much the equivalent of a three-toed sloth lying back, scratching its belly, and thinking to itself, "Yeah...I guess I could get up. Or I could just...you know...lie here for few more days." It would seem that Little Miss Self-Involved is a wee bit concerned about what SHE'S going to do when Brad goes off to school. "I can't just drive over to his house or call him up every two seconds just to see what he's doing. It's gonna be so weird." It's called LIFE, Abby. Look it up. The kid just got into his first-choice school, he's super-talented, he's not too far away from ultra-coolness, and let me make this clear: HE'S YOUR FRIEND. This is SO not about you. How about parking that ozone-layer of a psyche of yours for a little bit and telling YOUR FRIEND how happy you are for him? Huh? God. What a little snot.

I mean, really. My best friend Lena went off to Winona, Minnesota to go to college, and I went off to Ohio University for two weeks (before I realized that the drama students there were more interested in keggers before classes than they were in, um, ACTING), and then I took a year off and it never once, NOT ONCE, occurred to me to be all pissy because my best friend wasn't at my beck and call 24/7. Hello? Long distance, anyone?

Poster child for problem children Allie is back, and she's making her daily visit to the dean's office to pick up her unauthorized absences sheet. Turns out she has seven of these hummers. "If they don't get cleared, I get Saturday detention," she says ruefully. "Which I've done plenty of times." Way to underachieve, Allie. "Ditching school is the first good example," she says in VO, "that I did what I wanted to do and I didn't think about the future." Nice. Real nice.

Then Allie's back with the World's Most Patient Teacher, and he's telling her that what he has in his possession is what he's going to grade and that, quite frankly, it's not going to be embossed with ANY kind of passing grade. Allie's all surprised and shocked that her sad excuse for a paper isn't going to get her a passing grade. Remember all those times you walked into class (when you were even IN class, that is) with a diskette and some crap-ass excuse about computer problems, Allie? Remember that? Yeah. Don't act all stupefied and shit, girl. You screwed up in a major way and, finally, the World's Most Lenient Educator is calling you on it. Deal. "A failing grade can mean fifty-eight, fifty-nine percent," the Dalai Lama of High School is saying, "which means you're still going to be okay in the class. Assuming you get yourself to class. All the time." You go, Professor Patience. YOU GO. Allie sort of snottily thanks him and walks off.

Next thing we know, Howlin' Allie is simply going OFF on her mother on the phone. "I messed up with those grades, Mom! That's my answer! I MESSED UP! Am I going to graduate? Then that's really, at this point, unfortunately, what we have to worry about." Bring it down a notch, Howler. In a VO, Allie's mom says that her fear with Allie is that she doesn't understand that the things she's done in the past are mistakes. "I just don't want anything that she's done to become so irreversible that she can't move on from it," she says in an interview. Back in Shriekerville, Allie's saying, "Did you ever think that someone could be upset with themselves? You don't have to bring upon this whole 'I'm so disappointed in you.' 'Cuz you know what? It doesn't help the situation any much better!" "Any much better"? Damn. She really should have gone to class more; her grammar is abhorrent. And yes, she's upset, so I really should cut her some slack, but you know what? I'm not going to. She chose to ditch class and hang out down by the docks or whatever and, you know, tough titties, okay?

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American High

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