Future Marcus bliddly blah blahs that all of the McCallisters "had that thing. Knowing what you want and going after it without hesitating or equivocating. And Jack had it in spades."
Speaking of Marcus, his younger self is eating with Jack in the caf. Marcus - who is ALSO hot, thank you -- is informing Jack that Marcus is not going to be carrying Jack's ass in school this year. Jack isn't thinking about homework, though. He's distracted...by the Money-Grubbing Whore's Daughter, who is sitting alone and writing in her notebook. Oy. Already so pretentious. If you have to sit alone, a magazine is a better way to go. Marcus wonders what he's staring at, and looks over at New Girl Courtney Benedict. A blonde at their table pipes up that she knows someone who met Courtney in Chem, and that she's apparently a total bitch. "She's probably shy," Jack says. Blonde and I roll our eyes in unison. "You're just saying that because you think she's cute," Blonde teases. Jack says he's heard a lot of people talking about Courtney, but that he doesn't see anyone talking to her, and, with that Drama Queen statement, gets up and heads over, while the rest of his friends make a lot of Teen Movie 1994 type comments like, "Aw, yeah, dawg," and "You go on with your bad self."
Jack: "What are you writing?" Courtney: "Nothing." Jack doesn't think it looks like nothing. Courtney explains that she's just writing her thoughts. Please don't let it be poetry. Please don't let it be poetry. Jack introduces himself and invites Courtney to sit with him and his friends. She turns him down, flat. What new girl in her right mind rejects a friendly overture from anyone halfway normal-seeming, especially a super-cute boy? Jack wonders what's so scary about, you know, making friends. "Look, you don't even know me, so why do you care what I think?" Courtney brats. Ah, yes. This is where, in real life, The Cute Boy (or Nice Friendly Girl, for that matter) would be like, "Bitch, please. I'm reaching out to you because you are new here and it's hard not to have friends. If you want to act all asshole-y about it, be my guest. Enjoy your misery." Because this is TV, however, Jack finds Courtney's bratty exterior intriguing. Look, girls? I feel compelled to tell you that in real life, boys don't find the Ice Queen act nearly as alluring as they do on TV. What is presented on television as "intriguing" is dismissed in real life as "pain in the ass," and I really, really wish that cliché would die out, because it would really save a lot of impressionable young ladies a lot of time and energy. But of course, Jack is all, "I don't know you, but I'd like to," and invites her to a bonfire the next night. "A school event? Sorry, no," Courtney says. Wow, a nice, cute boy wants to include you in some harmless social activities that happen to be school-sponsored? The horror! What's next? Ritual sacrifices? THE PROM? Noooo! But Jack continues the hard sell and promises that the bonfire will be "life-altering." Do they even have bonfires anymore? He's mid-pitch when Bobby comes up and starts blathering that he didn't know Jack was inside, and that he's sitting outside on the benches and the benches are okay, but blah blah blah cockblocking. Bobby then introduces himself to Courtney and motormouths that she's the girl they saw on the street and that he wondered who she was and Jack was all, "I don't know," and he was all -- "BOBBY," Jack hisses, and Bobby finally, finally shuts it. For about one second, after which he announces that he needs some signatures for his Space Club petition. Courtney kindly signs the petition with a smile, and then hands the paper to Jack, expectantly. Jack, Jack, Jack. I can already tell this girl is going to be a complete pain in your ass. He signs the petition half-heartedly. Bobby scampers off. "My brother has no off switch," Jack groans. The bell rings, and Courtney stands up and says she has to get to class. "I guess I'll see you at the bonfire," she smiles. She walks away as Jack wonders how the hell he pulled that off.
Later that night. McCallister Manor, where Grace is getting ready for a faculty party and Bobby is sprawled on her bed playing with some dull educational toy and watching her get dressed. Not in a creepy Nip/Tuck way or anything. She's yammering that she hates faculty parties, but that they're making her go, blah blah blah, no one cares, least of all Bobby, who is busy explaining that Warren is concerned that they're going to be geeks. "All the best people were geeks," Grace explains. That is SO NOT HELPFUL, by the way, and not what your kid wants to hear. What your kid wants to hear is, "Everyone feels like a geek their first day of high school. You're going to fit in great." Grace then lists said geeks: "George Bernard Shaw, Bertrand Russell, yours truly." George Bernard Shaw? Went to high school? And who wants to grow up to be George Bernard Shaw? I mean, Pygmalion is good and all, but really. There's not a kid alive with a picture of George Bernard Shaw over his bed. "[Warren]'s afraid people will make fun of us," Bobby says. Grace: "All the greats have been laughed at. It doesn't matter. You have to have the courage of your convictions." How comforting for an eighth-grader. "I don't think Warren thinks that," Bobby offers. Grace dismisses Warren as a weak, unexceptional, conformist who will grow up to be an accountant. Hey, there are lots of nice accountants in the world. My DAD is an accountant. Step off the accountants, bitch. Grace sits to put on her boots and announces that Bobby's dad had a saying about weak men: "They'll follow whomever keeps them fed." Shut up, Grace.