Seth and Ryan walk past Sandy in the kitchen as he unpacks a few shopping bags full of ingredients for the lamb ragout dish Kirsten will be attempting to cook tonight. It doesn't seem that complicated to me -- just broil some lamb and throw Ragu sauce on it, right? That's how we cook in my house, anyway. But then, I did go to public school. Seth and Ryan will not be joining their parents for dinner tonight, since Seth is going to the Harbor dance (theme: the beach), and Ryan is going to Marissa's to hang out with her and give her a break from the homework she isn't doing (theme: jealousy and disappointment). The kids leave, and Sandy notices that Kirsten seems sad. She wonders if selling off the Newport Group is the right thing to do. Sandy thinks so. Kirsten leaves to get some oregano.

Dressed for dancin', Marissa exits the house into the waiting arms of her new friends. Ryan and Seth drive up and notice the inconsistency of this and Marissa's claim to be spending the night studying. They de-car, and Seth leaves to get Summer because it's all awkward right here. Forgetful Marissa the Hot Boyfriend Neglector tries to explain that she didn't know she'd be going to a dance when she talked to him before, and that this has nothing to do with her being mad at him from yesterday. Ryan tells her to go to the dance, and she runs off to Johnny's poor people Jeep and they drive off. Seth and Summer come out and Ryan tells them he's okay. They leave for the dance. Ryan heads back to homeschool, where there are no dances because you can't dance alone.

How convenient of Newport Union and Harbor to hold dances on the same exact night so that we could get a side-by-side comparison to expose public school's shortcomings. The poor people listen to urban beats and comment on how awesome it is that the school actually shelled out for three streamers this year. The public-school gang of four walk in, and Dennis heads off to the punch bowl with a flask, because it's 1973 and this public school can't afford to pay enough chaperones to guard the punch bowl. Marissa takes a look around and assumes that everyone has nothing better to do than whisper about her. She's right about Heather, at least, who takes aim at her from across the gym with a finger gun. You know, if Heather really were as bad-ass as she thinks she is, she wouldn't even be at the school dance.