After the commercials, Joan's in the garage helping Kevin by getting a box down from a high shelf. As he wheels away with it to a table, she comments that he's like a "human dolly." Kevin replies, "Yeah, I have many new uses now." Joan says she didn't mean to rag on him this morning: "I was going for Mom, and you just sorta got caught in the crossfire." He says it's cool: "I think we're all pretty tightly wound." He pulls lots of jock paraphernalia out of the box, as she wonders what he's looking for. He's after his yearbook. Joan: "Cutting out pictures of Andy?" Kevin says he just needs to see him: "I need to see who the hell my best friend was." He flips through the yearbook as Joan comments, "He was a dork. He used to pick me up and spin me around over his head. I should have ralphed on him." Kevin: "You loved him. We all did." Joan: "He's a bastard now." Kevin looks at candid shots and sports photos of himself and Andy as he muses, "Sure seems that way." Kevin announces that he's going to go see Andy: "I need to find out why he's doing this." Joan: "Kevin, he's suing us. You can't go see him." Kevin: "Who says?" Joan thinks: "Like…every law show on TV." Kevin asks if she'll tell their parents. Joan: "Oh, yeah, I'm dying to get in the middle of this one." They go back to looking at the yearbook. The scene closes on a candid shot of Andy and Kevin goofing around. They look pretty happy together.

It's dark out. Grace "Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)" Polk and Luke "I'm a Marionette" Girardi are sitting in a park, on some big gnarled tree roots. They're playing music for each other. Luke's playing some hiphop for her -- I can't make out the song -- and she's shaking her head: "No, no, no. Hiphop is supposed to be about defiance and social justice. This mainstream trash has totally sold out to the corporate rats." Luke: "Yeah, but the chorus has this addictive bass that's like --" Grace: "Next." Luke: "You're very intolerant." Grace counters, "High musical standards does not make me intolerant, dude." I feel someone poking me in my right upper arm but we're just going to ignore him. Luke suggests delving into some classical selections. Grace wonders if he's trying to kill her: "Why don't we just start speaking in Latin?" Hey, be my guest. Sars and I can handle it. Luke decides it's time to listen to her music. Grace: "Okay, okay. Chill with the caveman act." She puts on 33 West: "Indie group. Totally downloadable. The people's music." Luke: "Sophomoric lyrics. Stultifying melody. They sound like they recorded it over a telephone. They deserve their obscurity." Hee. At least he's not pretending to like stuff to appease her, like how some girl who hates sports might have pretended to be interested in football just because some high school boyfriend liked it. Er, not that I know any girls like that. Grace is miffed and moves on to the next song: "Olatunji. African drums." Luke's comment: "Pretentious attempt to co-opt another culture to hide your middle-class roots." Wow, is he ever skating on thin ice. Grace: "You are going to be bleeding soon." But she doesn't say it with her usual conviction. He comes back with: "Feel the power of Metallica: Master of Puppets. The anthem of thrash metal." Grace says they sound like a band with no hands. Luke claims, "You know what? I have a deep, psychic connection with Metallica, so tread lightly." Really? They just don't seem his cup of tea, really. I think Luke should look into some avant-garde stuff -- John Cage, Iannis Xenakis, that sort of thing. I think the math in it would blow his mind. Grace, discouraged, says, "Look, dude, we tried. But music is vibrations, and my music is a representation of my inner vibrations." Luke: "And if we don't share a common rate of vibration, what do we have?" Nearby some people walk through the park with a boombox, playing Kool and the Gang's "Celebration." At the same time, they both comment, "At least you didn't bring that." Luke has a brainstorm. He leans toward Grace: "A shared experience in dissonance creates its own harmony." Grace: "What?" Luke geeks on: "Harmonic resonance. It's one of the basic laws of physics. Our mutual hatred for Kool and the Gang has formed a harmonic union between us." Grace smiles, all too willing to salvage things: "I think I feel it." Luke: "Grace…this is our song." They kiss.