Previously on Awkward...
Jenna. It's Owen.
You had no idea I went here, did you?
It's Sergio. He is such an idiot.
Oh, my God, you like him.
I don't need you to defend me.
Hey, Gabby. It's Matty.
I know who you are, McKibben.
I'd come over to apologize,
and I'd ended up sleeping with Owen.
I just had afternoon sex with a sophomore whose last name
I couldn't remember, and I was surprisingly okay with it,
because I'd had fun.
Okay, yes. Owen was in orchestra. So what?
His complete lack of ego combined
with his self-confidence was, well, sexy.
Oh, God, was that creepy to find a sophomore sexy?
I had fun.
Earth to Owen.
Oh, sorry, what'd you say?
Are you always this zoned in when you're writing music?
Only when I'm inspired, and I'm feeling very inspired.
You want to hear what I'm working on?
I just started it, so it's not polished or anything.
- Yeah, sure. - Yeah.
- It's amazing. - Mm.
- What's it called? - I was thinking First Time.
Pretty. How'd you come up with that?
Oh, well, you know, I think that one just came to me.
You know, first time?
Synced and corrected by Chitorafa www.addic7ed.com
Senior bonfire is tonight, people.
Senior bonfire.
Hey, be there. Otherwise, uh-oh, uh-oh.
Kidding.
Biggie?
It's Will, when I'm out of costume anyway.
It's nice to see you again, Val.
Wait a second. Are you stalking me?
Listen, I get it.
I'm an 11 in a city full of 7s.
I got that je ne sais quoi,
but it's just... It's just not gonna work.
Not stalking, coaching, actually.
Oh, really?
- Wait, we don't have a ski team. - Scuba.
Winter in the mountains and summer at the beach.
I'm saving up to go to the Great Barrier Reef,
and lucky for me,
PHHs needed a scuba coach this semester.
Well, great.
That is great that you're not stalking me.
I am super relieved, so it's...
Well, good luck, coach.
Thank you.
See you around, Val.
Senior bonfire tonight.
Let's send this first semester up in flames.
I called you last night to see if you wanted a plus-one
to your "eff you, SCU" pity party,
but it went straight to voice mail.
I even bought a pint of chunky monkey,
so we could overindulge.
I'd indulged, all right,
in bed with a sophomore virgin.
Just stayed home with my mom.
Senior bonfire tonight.
Thanks, Allentown.
Allentown?
Like the Billy Joel song?
Or my safety school.
Does Pete think I'm dumb?
Because he thinks Degas is a cheese.
Allentown, what does that even mean?
You've been coded.
- Duh. - Coded?
What are you talking about?
The phonebook.
You seriously don't know?
Why would they? They're bottom-feeders.
Can you chill out with the hate-o-rade and decode the code?
The guys use area codes
to rate the girls they hook up with.
They keep a hot-or-not list
in a big book called the phonebook.
I can't believe you guys didn't know about it.
We're Michigans, 989.
Well, what's Allentown?
484?
I don't know W.T.F. this means, but it cannot be good.
Don't let it bother you, T.
It sounds monumentally stupid.
You know you're in there too,
- right, Suicide Sally? - What?
We're going off campus for lunch.
You coming, Snatchy?
Enjoy your panic attacks, slores.
Damn, does your school put something in the water
that makes all the girls here so hot?
Are you seriously checking out those slunt-buckets
right in front of me?
I was just trying to give them a compliment.
I thought those were your friends.
They are... They're also conniving whores
who come with a complementary side of herpes.
Enjoy your itchy, burning peen.
Damn, must be nice to be so much better than everyone else.
Sometimes it gets tiresome,
but mostly it's pretty [bleep] great.
Yeah, throw in an immunity boost.
It's on me.
An immunity boost? Really?
I'm lovesick. It might be contagious.
Oh, my God. That was pathetic.
It was totally lame.
Hey, I have three moves, and none of them worked.
Look, you make me nervous.
I wish you'd let me take you out and prove that there's way more
to me than just cheesy, middle school pickup lines.
Seems like you have four moves.
Maybe we can grab coffee after school.
You guys know where the bodies are buried and corpses revived
in this institution for lower learning,
so I know you know where that phonebook is hidden.
So take us to the holy grail of douchedom, stat!
Back off, psych ward Barbie. You're oppressive.
Why do we get such a bad rap for groper
when straight guys are way more pervy?
Rating people behind their backs is so busted.
Do it to their faces.
It's the only way objectification is sexy.
Could you please just show us where the phonebook is?
Sorry, but it is only accessible
to a sad subset of the PHHs drones.
Brain-dead jocks with mob mentality,
mommy fixations, and performance anxieties.
Why do you think they need all those beers
before they can screw?
I still hadn't told Tamara about my own man-anigans.
Knowing that I took Owen's v-card
had really thrown me for a loop.
I was not ready for a serious relationship with a sophomore.
Owen, just the guy we wanted to see.
- I am? - He is?
Yeah, we need a straight guy.
Wait, you're straight, aren't you?
Yeah, I'm pretty sure.
Uh, Owen, we need to know where the phonebook is.
Well, my mom keeps the yellow pages
under the kitchen sink.
This is useless.
Sorry.
What we need to find is a jock who isn't a complete ass.
Jake, what do you know about a secret book that jocks use
to rate their sexcapades?
Ugh, you know about the phonebook?
It's a dumb tradition. Meaningless.
Yeah, well, we're gonna need you to get it for us.
Dream on, Aerosmith. I'd get my ass kicked.
Ah, I thought you said it was meaningless.
Look, I'm not gonna tell you where it is,
but think of a place where no one ever goes.
Completely useless, outdated, a no-man's-land.
That's where I'd hide something if I didn't want it found.
Well, that was helpful.
Hey, ladies, just doing a little bonfire research
in the library.
Man, it's a ghost town in there.
I've got it.
I don't understand how it didn't eat you.
Oh, Ms. Marks, have you met our new scuba coach?
Yeah, why is he in my office?
The scuba center had to be yellow-taped
'cause of mold, so I told Principal Cox
that you wouldn't mind shacking up for a while.
Oh, no. Impossible.
No, I need all my space.
In addition to shepherding
my ginormous flock of lost little lambs,
I'm also overseeing the senior bonfire, so...
I get it.
You're overburdened, and you're underbudgeted.
That's why this is perfect. Will can help.
I'd be happy to.
You know I once built a warming hut
out of wet driftwood for a bunch of Maoris?
I've always said where there's a Will, there's a way.
- Ugh. - He's funny.
I think we're in the right place.
Where's the reference section?
It's like old-people Google.
There's the phone books.
- Isn't it a little obvious? - Well, they're jocks.
Let's not set the subtlety bar too high.
Eureka.
O.M.G.
I cannot believe this disgusting, despicable document.
This is war.
- And look, there's something called a B-score. - _
What is a B-score?
Buoyancy? Bubbliness?
B.F.F. potential?
That pathetic putz Pete
obviously assily assessed my assets,
but what jerk hate-rated you?
Colin?
That photo was from sophomore year.
I'd recognize that handwriting anywhere.
It was Matty.
You coded me?
What are you talking about?
The phonebook, Matty. I saw it.
You rated me? Were you ever gonna tell me?
Calm down, it's just a stupid jock tradition.
It's not a big deal.
You rated my boobs and my butt for all those guys to see,
and it's just not a big deal?
No, it was a long time ago.
It was before we were, you know...
Hey, at least you got a good rating, right?
If you think that's the point,
then you are an even bigger jerk now than you were then.
You know what?
This is why I don't date high school boys.
Forget coffee.
In other news, the guys at Palos Hills
are disgusting man-children
who use a secret book to rate girls' bodies.
Don't forget B-score...
How many beers it'd take to bone you.
One of our male classmates wrote this nasty-gram
about a poor Jane Doe-n't.
New York, 212.
Not even a butterface because this heifer
has thunder thighs and saggy udders.
Ohh.
Ladies, feel free to rate their kindness and compassion.
And why don't you rate their fugly faces while you're at it?
We don't need to take the high road.
We just need to run these buttholes off the road...
Beep, beep.
And into the gutter where they belong! No!
[Beep]
- Hey, beautiful. - Beautiful?
It was a little much,
but I'd rather be called beautiful than St. Louis.
I've been working on the song
I started yesterday.
You want to hear?
Actually, now's not a good time.
In fact, can we keep this whole thing on the D.L.?
It's just, this ratings thing has Tamara sort of
anti-all guy right now, and I'm trying to, you know,
show some girl solidarity.
Oh, is that why you were so weird earlier?
God, I was worried the whole virgin thing freaked you out.
- Oh, no, no. - No, I get it.
My lips are sealed.
I'll be taking this for safekeeping.
Ooh, five beers, ouch.
Principal Cox seriously needs to change
his definition of feminism.
Can you... Owen?
Hey, Tamara,
I, um, got roped into playing at the bonfire tonight.
Yeah, they said you wanted fight songs?
You're going to the bonfire?
Yeah, I end up playing in all of these other lame groups
'cause I play different instruments and stuff, so...
Don't be so modest.
Owen's a ringer, and yes,
I want music that evokes blood and battle and beatings.
Do you know something that sounds like
balls being ripped off,
like, from the root or whatever they're attached with?
O.M.G. Owen's a terrible liar.
He obviously has a thing for me.
And, you know, since his growth spurt,
he's actually become kind of a hottie with a body.
My secret was getting messier by the moment.
It was time to come clean.
Tamara would never judge my sophomoric sex life.
Too bad hitting that would be a one-way ticket
to cougar town.
"Hey, gang, anyone up for pizza?"
I can't believe Matty thinks he can just text me like that
and everything will be all right.
Speaking of making things right,
I made a dude database with every guy
at PHHs's profile pic.
I'm gonna hate-rate the [bleep] out of these jock-offs
starting with Pete.
#NothingUpstairs.
#NothingDownstairs?
#Brillz.
Not only did Matty refuse to destroy the phonebook,
he didn't even seem to understand
why it was so hurtful,
and until he could be a friend to me,
I didn't want to be a friend to him.
Welcome to the senior bonfire, high school oldies.
The real bonfire, that is,
not that stupid pile of Lincoln logs over there.
This party is about to be en fuego.
Seriously? Unfriended me?
Well, apparently, all I am to you is a number.
This is ridiculous.
It's just some stupid book I haven't thought about
since soccer hazing.
Well, that's too bad,
because being rated St. Louis by a guy I thought
cared about me is something I'll never forget.
I can't believe Raj rated me.
Have you seen his skinny chicken legs?
#Chickenlegs.
Someone made a dude database
to get back at those beef jerkies.
It's been like chapstick to my poor, blistered ego.
Here, see for yourselves.
What, you didn't see enough of my hot friends at lunch?
Those shrink-wrap blondies?
Relax, Sadita, those girls are sixes at best.
I'm sorry, are you rating them?
What? You're a 9. A 9 1/2 even.
I like my women tall and curvy.
And I like my men tall, well-mannered, and literate.
You know, nothing like you.
Jesus, what has you so twisted?
It's like anything I say you figure out
- how to turn into a slam. - I know.
I'm really talented.
And a little too insecure sometimes.
Lo siento.
You're so perfect.
Thank you guys for coming.
Seniors, this is our last bonfire, so enjoy it.
Even though 50% of our class doesn't deserve to live,
we can still all have a good time.
And the only numbers you'll be hearing tonight
are musical ones, so take it away
before I say what I'm really thinking.
The music sounded familiar, and then I realized it was
another version of First Time, and Owen's sweet serenade
made the bitter pill of Matty's bad behavior
that much harder to swallow.
What? The phonebook's so bad,
they'd rather freeze than be near us?
It's a rite of passage. Everyone does it.
I didn't.
The whole thing's really messed up.
It's just a joke.
Dude, I have a little sister,
and I would kill someone if they rated her,
and be honest... what if someone else had rated Jenna?
It's just... I... Look.
I didn't think about her like that sophomore year.
She was just this really awesome, secret booty call,
not, I don't know, a real person at first.
You look cold. Take my coat.
I'm fine.
Why are you pushing me away, huh?
You won't even take my coat?
Maybe I don't want to sully it
with all my deep-seated insecurities.
Sadie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make...
Congratu-[bleep]-lations, Sergio, you're right.
I am really unhappy sometimes.
Your mother worries that you'll starve to death
without her tamales.
My mother used to scrape food into the garbage disposal,
so I wouldn't eat it.
Your mom sounds crazy.
I want you.
For what?
A grope in the sausage truck,
so you can tell all of your friends
that you got my hot stuff all up in your face?
Whoa, caliente, who would work this hard for just a grope?
All men are douche nuts.
- Not all. - Yeah?
Why should I believe that?
Because it's true, but you have to give me
a real chance to find out.
Dude, what the hell are you doing?
Hey, everyone.
Hi.
I want to apologize to all the girls in here,
but especially to all the girls that I coded.
No one deserves to be treated like they're just a number.
Just a dumb tradition.
A really [bleep] dumb one.
- Ohh. - But...
Matty's gesture was almost heroic,
and I wanted to let him know,
but Gabby beat me to it.
Wow, McKibben,
I guess you're not 100% douche bag after all.
Eh, no more than 35%.
Good move, whale rider, you left our office unlocked,
and now the phonebook is gone forever.
I'm sorry, Val.
You should be. I still had 30 pages to read.
Plus, the bonfire was my thing
before you came along and stole my fire, literally.
I know.
Maybe I was trying to impress you.
Maybe I haven't been able to get you out of my head since we met,
and okay, maybe I am stalking you a little.
- Really? - Really, really.
But I'm gonna stay out of your way.
In fact, I've already volunteered
for a different school activity.
Old habits, you know?
Biggie... Will, wait.
Thank you for lighting my fire.
Um, can you just put the head on?
Jenna, hey, did you... Did you like the piece?
It was beautiful.
Good.
You are so talented.
Owen, I can't date you.
I never would've slept with you
if I'd have known it was your first time.
Hey, I'm a senior.
I'm not looking for anything serious.
You deserve to be with somebody who can experience
all those firsts with you in a real relationship.
I'm such an idiot to think
that you could actually be into me.
I mean, you're like this super-hot girl,
and I'm kryptonite to hot girls.
Oh, no, no, no.
You're really sweet and funny
and intelligent and so talented and cute.
Lots of girls think you're cute.
Tamara just said so today.
Thanks, you know, but I'll see you around, okay?
Owen might be hurting,
but I knew I'd finally done the right thing.
My moral compass was pointing north,
and it turns out, Matty McKibben was actually
a pretty great friend.
_
I may have closed the lid on the Matty drama,
but I'd opened a Pandora's Box of hashtag hating.
The dude database was going viral,
and the balance of power had definitely shifted
from the guys to the girls.
And if anyone found out I was partly responsible,
I'd be #Toast.
Next on Awkward...
If you ever tell anyone this, and if anyone found out
I will gouge out your eyes with my thumbs.
The dude database has gone full-on viral.
- Did Owen just kiss your cheek? - What? No.
Game is the operative word here, player.
W...
When I don't answer my phone,
It's 'cause I don't want to talk to you.