Wallace approaches and tells Jackie -- somewhat needlessly, given the smoking pile of cornflake girl at the next table -- that he broke up with Jane: "Are you going to ask me to sit down?" Um, no? Jackie explains that he can't sit with her, but he's not getting it: "I'm free now. You know I like you..." Jackie gives it to him bite-sized, how if he sits there, she's "the man-eating bitch" who snatched him from the stupid, burnt-up corpse of "one of the sweetest girls in the school," and how -- since she's obviously campaigning for the title -- she can't have that. She asks him again to leave, and watches him go, and is sad.
Oh dear. Mac and Beaver sit at lunch, feeling weird about all kinds of things. Mac: "Is it me?" He plays dumb and says no, "it's the tater tots," and she...goes there. It's more awkward than a season of Degrassi: "Are you not attracted to me?" (If you have to ask...?) Beaver's like, "What what?" and she asks him to explain, then, why he doesn't "wanna do stuff." He begs of her to stop, and she says that they have to talk about it sometime. Oh, man, the ugliness of people who are not ready for dating. Mac explains that she gets nervous, too, like, when they're just hanging out she's totally confident and cool, but then all this pressure appears sometimes, and..."I don't know what I'm doing either." Which is not what you say here, optimally. I think you should really just avoid any kind of insult, on top of the all-levels accusation you're leveling here. It's not like teenage boys are that confusing. They are 30\% food or the getting of food, 60\% polymorphous perversity and free-floating anxiety both sexual and other, and 10\% "I'm not gay and also I'm a total stud." This is not math that would overwhelm your average graphing calculator. "Uh, I know what I'm doing," Beaver spits, and Mac tries to backtrack, getting really vulnerable and apologetic and hard to watch and very, very sad: "I'm saying I don't, so if you don't either, or you feel nervous or..." He begs her, again, to stop talking. Mac: "Veronica says that guys move at all different speeds..." and Beaver wigs, about her talking to Veronica, which is easily six buttons right there. Mac tries again to overclarify: "No, it was about me, not..." She stops. "I'm...doing something wrong." Ooof. That's the line that got me. "You weren't," Beaver nearly cries, "but you are now." He stands, and she looks very tiny. "Good luck getting laid," Beaver red-flags all the fuck over the place as he runs away, and we are treated to a very slow, very sad, very outmatched Mac. Poor girl.