At school, Aria sees Mona making out with Mike and oooooh, it irks her. When they’re all done grabby-handsing each other, Aria marches over to Mona to demand an explanation and Mona says she had to find someone new to play with after the Liars ostracized her for the tenth time. She’s like, “I brought y’all coffee, I let you hang out in my mobile lair, I turned myself into the police on Ashley Marin’s behalf, and I didn’t run over a single one of you with my car for six entire weeks. And you still froze me out? Your mistake!”
Debate Team Andrew, who you will remember as the catalyst for The Great Hastings Bra Removal of 2012, reminds Spencer that they’ve got a big physics test this afternoon and that is some news to her. She doesn’t look Radley levels of rumped — her hair is still regular-sized — but the not sleeping is really starting to take a toll on her her perfect face. Andrew says he’ll cover for her if she wants to skip class and take a nap, mostly because he’s hoping to get better acquainted with her boobs. Spencer thanks him and asks him to come over later.
In her bedroom, he admires all of her trophies and ribbons and things and she’s like, “Look, hook me up with whatever Ritalin or Adderall you’re using to keep your academic shit together.” And he’s like, “Aw, man, for real? I thought you asked me to come over because you…” — and I awesomely quote — “…broke up with that carpenter.” She’s like, “Nope, but I did show you ten percent of my breasts on time.” He agrees that deserves at least one week’s worth of ADHD medication.
It’s an even weirder day than normal at Rosewood High. I mean, it’s no cow-brain-inside-a-locker weird, but there are a lot of adults messing around inside these halls today. Maggie was here. There’s this new guidance counselor that Aria tries to talk out of helping Mona, but he ends up talking her into needing therapy. And then here comes Papa Fields with just the solution to the problem of Emily being maxed out on wigging out: He wants to add more stuff to her schedule. It goes like this:
Papa Fields: Mr. Ezra Fitz, hello! I stopped by to ask you if there’s anything you can do to help Emily get over the fact that her mother and I abandoned her to live with the ghost of her first dead girlfriend and that girl’s batshit insane mother who still seems to think she’s alive.
Mr. Fitz: Do go on.
Papa Fields: Yes, well, Emily seems to have an affection for you, which I assume is due to the fact that you didn’t lock her in a basement to die like her last history teacher or abandon her to go make donuts in a castle in Austria like her last literature teacher.
Mr. Fitz: It’s probably those reasons that she feels so close to me, yes. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m boning her best friend.
Papa Fields: That’s what I figured. Listen, can you just give her more stress to help her feel less stressed?
Mr. Fitz: I have some papers she can grade and some parrot cages she can clean out, alone, at midnight.
Papa Fields: Excellent! Well, I’d better get going. I have to take my heart pills.
Papa Fields rushes home to tell Emily the good news and she comes thiiiiiiiis close to stabbing him in the face with a pair of scissors. Oh, man. I just remembered at the hoe down when Red Coat slithered through the hay in the back of Travis’ truck and Emily grabbed that pitch fork and started stabbing! and stabbing! and stabbing! with absolutely no regard for what the hell might actually be under there. Remember that? Even Spencer was like, “…yikes.” I kind of think killing Cousin Nate afflicted Emily with some sort of sleeper agent bloodlust.
But that’s not even the weirdest/best thing that happens at Rosewood High on this day. No, that honor belongs to an interaction in which Mr. Fitz calls Mona into his classroom and asks her to close the door for a private meeting (…of the Jekyll and Hyde Club)!
I think we can all agree that the best course of action for the Liars at this point in time is: not to split up. And so of course they split up. Aria tracks down Maggie in the street and slaps a box of her possessions onto the ground and bitches at her for having the audacity to keep her son away from a guy who is not her son’s father, adoptive or genetic. Maggie goes, “Well, at least one of us has started making good decisions where Ezra Allen Poe Fitzgerald is concerned. I got seven years of free rent and dressage lessons for my kid out of it. Enjoy your paper bag mask.”