In the kitchen, Graham continues to prepare dinner, while he, and Hallie, and Brad, all stare at poor Jordan, who squirms under their collective gaze like a teenager planning to have sex with the daughter of one of the people looking at him. "So do you have a major?" asks Graham, which is a weird question, because I don't think that people have majors in high school. Jordan says he doesn't think so, and Hallie says he'd probably know, if he did. "Yeah," Jordan agrees, "I'd have probably gotten, like, a letter or something?" Angela calls Graham from the other room, and he goes to talk to her.
"Well, I met him," Graham tells her. "He seems...well...what does meeting somebody really prove?" Angela says, "Maybe I shouldn't go. Mom said you both had to meet him, and..." This is a cry for help if I've ever heard one, the teenager suggesting she shouldn't be allowed to go to the party on Friday night, but Graham misses the cue and decides to play permissive dad: "Your mom was supposed to be home by now, but something came up at work. It's okay. This is not one of those times when your mother and I are not in sync." Angela tries again: "Because I'll understand if you don't want me to go." Graham's all, "Really. It's okay." And he thinks he's the coolest dad in the world, and Angela is terrified.
The abandoned sex-house. Various seedy-looking kids stand around in the hallways, preparing to um each other, as Jordan and Angela clamber in through the window. "Are you sure we won't go to jail, or something, if the cops, like, burst in?" Jordan assures her that her fears are groundless, only more inarticulately. "What if the neighbors like report us or something?" Jordan says, "Then we'll leave." You've got to hand it to him -- he's mastered basic pragmatism, which Angela doesn't seem to have done (i.e. "Jordan, let's not have sex yet. I'd like to sometime, but I just don't feel ready for it yet, tonight"). Angela wanders the house. Someone says, "Cynthia, that's so funny!" A girl with a small nose stud and two obnoxious friends are over by the staircase, and the platinum blonde can only be Cynthia Hargrove, the girl Jordan use to um. They all look at Angela and whisper maliciously, and she gets even more self-conscious, which did not seem possible previously. Angela runs off in search of Jordan, who finds her before she can find him. "Angela!" he whispers romantically, "there's, like, no empty rooms right now. So." Angela, swept off her feet by his gallantry, replies, "So what do we do?"