Awkward.

Previously on Awkward...

I fucked your girlfriend.

Everyone is talking about you.

Your secret blog--

Not so secret anymore.

You humiliated me.

Jenna Hamilton tried to kill herself!

Again!

I was dead.

Metaphorically speaking.

Like Sylvia Plath, I'd taken my own life.

Except while hers ended in an oven,

mine ended on the internet.

My blog was no longer a safe haven,

so there was only one way I could take refuge

from the internal slaughter in my head.

I had to put pen to paper.

Turns out, releasing my blog to the public

was not the answer to my problems.

Once again, I was a pariah.

And even though I hadn't forgiven

my mom for writing the letter,

she was wise to my guilt trips.

So I couldn't expect she would let me stay home,

which meant I had to ensure it.

Mom, I have a fever!

My hand wasn't the only thing getting hot and bothered.

My mom was too.

Suddenly I didn't need to play sick anymore.

I was sick, and I needed to escape

before I was confronted with what I expected to see--

My mother with a...

Dad?

How are you feeling?

- Uncomfortable. - Understandable.

It's probably a little shocking

to see us together.

Seeing you together, not so shocking.

It's more of where and how.

Mm-hmm.

Just talk to us.

What's going through your head?

Your boobs.

Might want to belt up.

I thought you were dating Hannah.

So did I.

I wasn't.

Which is why I came over to clear things up.

- And you did. -

Are you guys back together?

We're working it out.

Right, there's still work to do.

And if that work was gonna happen in the house,

I had to vacate the premises.

Right, well, I am feeling much better now,

so I'm gonna head to school.

- Well, let me get dressed. - She can drive herself.

She is not driving the slut-wagon.

The thing will only bring her negative attention.

Car or no car,

negative attention was about the only attention

I could expect.

You sure you're feeling okay?

You don't look so good.

I'm fine.

I wasn't, but how do you tell your mom

you're about to walk into a public lynching?

Really?

Well, there are a couple small things

that happened recently which are making me

a wee bit apprehensive.

- Bitch! - Like that.

Don't call my daughter a bitch!

Not her, you.

What's going on?

So Jake broke up with me

and then caught me making out with Matty,

which shouldn't have been a thing,

'cause I was technically single,

but he thinks I'm a cheater because he didn't know

that I was with Matty before I was with him,

so he thought that we were seeing each other

while I was seeing him, that "him" being Jake.

Following?

So I exposed my blog

and basically everything about myself,

and I didn't realize that there would be collateral damage,

which I guess sort of definitely involves you

and the letter.

Everyone knows I wrote the letter?

You're disgusting.

I know it seems like I did this on purpose

because things aren't resolved between us.

I didn't mean to hurt you.

Have a nice day, honey.

We need to talk.

I can't. Not now.

Please, let me say my piece.

Writing that letter to Jenna was terrible.

- Agreed. - And cruel.

- I get it. - No, you don't.

But I do, because despite how together I may seem

I was once a misfit too.

Yeah, I know it's hard to believe,

but things weren't always smooth sailing

for this old kimosabe.

And do you know who always lifted me up?

- Your mother. - That's right.

And let me tell you, I was pretty heavy back then.

I had a tendency to eat my feelings,

but no matter how heavy my load

or my ass,

my mother could always lighten it

with her unconditional love

because that is what good mothers do.

They love their kids. They don't tear them down.

L-Dawg, I really expected

we were on the road to being besties,

but now I--

I don't think I can even be your friend.

What kinda day are we looking at,

lunch in the bathroom?

Nope, I'm clear for quad exposure.

I'm back in with the mafia, big time.

They got my parents to buy me a car.

You're kidding. Why?

It's a peace offering.

Becca's scared shitless of you,

and by proxy, now me.

Why is she scared of me?

'Cause putting yourself up for public consumption

is, like, batshizat on crack.

You're the scariest kind of loose cannon, Jenna.

You're a suicide bomber.

I wasn't trying to blow myself up.

Motive doesn't matter

but mission accomplished.

Your social suicide scared everyone silent.

I assumed it was merely the calm before the storm,

and as such I was battening down the hatches.

Watch it!

- Jenna. - Sorry, Julie.

Julie.

I had hit the hornets nest-- The Julies.

They were power brokers,

the kind of girls who could make or break a reputation

with a simple smile or a smirk.

Nobody wanted to mess with them,

and I definitely didn't want them to mess with me.

- What you did was ballsy. - And psychotic.

It was a mistake.

No, the mistake was ditching Matty for Jake.

Team Jake all the way!

Seriously, when Matty showed up at the dance,

total panty drop.

Forget you.

Nothing trumps the bit with Jake

when he decked out his mom's minivan.

It wasn't really a bit.

That actually happened.

Whatever. I just loved it.

Anyhoo, gotta go.

Back-up pants a-calling.

That was strange.

And unexpected.

She just said "back-up pants."

That was her quoting you quoting me.

Do you realize what just happened?

You've just been bitch-backed by the Julies.

- Okay. - You don't get it.

You're, like, a small cable show.

You may not have a budget or marketing,

but you're interesting

and you're catching on with the right peeps.

Peeps that get you and care what you think.

Nobody cares what I think.

But ironically, they did.

I had fans.

And they wanted dating advice...

Psst.

Fashion tips...

And a teenage perspective.

Suddenly everyone needed my opinion on their life

and to weigh in on mine.

It was overwhelming

and exhilarating.

I was a tastemaker.

Ugh, how is the hamil-troll's star rising while mine falls?

The bitch really crossed the line

exposing my relationship with Ricky.

I call shenanigans.

She didn't ho and tell.

Everyone already knew about you and Ricky.

Ho and tell?

Don't make me puke

with that side-stooge's lingo.

Look, I know Jenna's blog

didn't paint you in the best light.

But you gotta give her credit. She can spell.

I'm not going to give her credit