Fiona appears at the door, waving toothlessly, and continues on down the hall. Grace exits the bathroom, looking terrified and tense as usual, and Fiona grins. "Mom and Dad are here." Grace jumps. "In your classroom, talking to your teacher." Joyfully, she sings it out: "You're in trouble!" Fiona is a dangerous lunatic. Grace loses it some more, if that's like even possible.
Thor stands with Eleanor while she gives Mom the update, but he doesn't say anything or do much. The kid is stable, no spinal damage or injury beyond the lung. Mom is effusive, so Eleanor sends her in to see her son, but that leaves her alone with Justin, who without warning throws his arms around her midsection and turns to stone. "Whoa!" she says, to no effect. She stands there with him for a bit, in her tights and her heels, and finally just calls Jackie's name into the silence, like they always do. "Someone? Anyone?" Another doctor laughs as he walks by. "Christ," Eleanor mutters, and walks the kid scarecrow style toward his mother's hopefully strong hands. "Okay, let's keep moving, mate. Come on. You're a heavy little bugger, aren't you?"
Jackie looks at the picture: four grey Peytons under a steely sky, outside Kevin's bar, holding hands, kids in the middle keeping them together, expressions somewhere between bored and terrified. "I dunno," she says. "Looks pretty good to me. She's always drawing my hair longer, she hates this haircut." (I love this haircut. I don't think Edie Falco's ever been as beautiful as she is right now in 2009, and the haircut strips everything else away.) Kevin tosses a nod to the brickwork in the drawing: "Pretty phenomenal. That's my bar." Beat. "That I own, not where I drink. I mean..."
Jackie and Kevin share a moment of pride about the art. It's not great, and the pride isn't real, but it's important that they team up right now, that they show support for their daughter, their daughter of many talents and qualities. "Right," the teacher squeaks, "But please, try to focus on what's lacking in the scene." Skip helps them out: "Her pictures are consistently devoid of color." Jackie shrugs, an elaborately unrehearsed shrug that would have come out no matter what. He could say "Her pictures consistently feature mice stuck in each other's vaginas," Jackie would shrug just like this, and say, "Um, yeah?" Just like this.