It was Friday afternoon. The quad was full of students blowing off steam in celebration of getting through another week of classes. Over to the side, a little away from the frisbees flying, guitars being played, and bubbles being blown, David Gordon sat under a tree, using its trunk to support his back while he did some reading.

"Hey, Gordo!"

He didn't have to look up to know who was calling out to him. He did anyway, and saw the smile that he'd heard in the voice. It was Lizzie McGuire, the only person he'd known his entire life other than his parents. Lizzie, Gordo, and Miranda Sanchez were long-time best friends who referred to themselves as the Three Amigos. Miranda had probably come up with the name; no one remembered. When they went without dates to dances at Hillridge Middle School, Miranda said, "It's the Three Amigos flying solo."

Lizzie had taken an interest in fashion, as girls often do, going into middle school. Her fashion sense sharpened in 8th grade, the year she just missed being named Best Dressed in the yearbook. Now that she was in college, her everyday style was a little more casual. She walked toward Gordo in her frisbee-playing clothes–blue UCLA shorts and a white Hollywood Flea Circus tank top. She carried a pair of flip-flops in one hand, and some strands of hair had come loose from her headscarf. Gordo thought she looked beautiful.

He stood up to meet her, and they greeted each other with a peck on the lips while their noses and chins touched, as they'd become fond of doing since meaning more to each other than just friends.

"Mm," they both said.

They sat down under the tree. "Whatcha readin'?" Lizzie asked, dropping her flip-flops next to the book Gordo had left open on the ground.

"Oh, that's for history of film. It's about the French New Wave in the '60s."

"That guy in the picture looks familiar. Have I seen him in anything?"

"That's Patrick Bauchau, so, yeah, you have."

"Oh? What in?"

"Lots of things, probably. Ray, that movie about Ray Charles. A TV series called The Pretender. Oh, also a movie called Promised Land," said Gordo.

"Promised Land?" Lizzie couldn't quite place the title.

"Yeah. I think we saw it at a Swiss film festival. It was kind of a desert road picture about a grown-up, washed-up child star. Lalaine was in it."

"Oh, yeah, that girl who looks like Miranda."

"Uh-huh. She can sing, too. She got a recording contract with Warner/Reprise about a year after that movie."

"Good for her. I'll have to look for her CDs. Speaking of which, where is Miranda?"

"Haven't seen her, but isn't she auditioning today?"

"Right, right, yeah. She's come a long way from Rhonda Doppapopoulos," Lizzie said.

"Well, she was very poised the next year, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, until the flying smoothie from hell knocked us off our feet and landed on those Style Shack pants that I just had to have." Lizzie rolled her eyes at the memory from 8th grade.

"And you changed back into the bargain-basement pants your mom found, and everybody told you how cool they were as they went by. You haven't missed a bargain-hunting session with your mom since then, have you?"

"Nope," Lizzie said, her playful tone complementing Gordo's teasing tone. "We've found some cool stuff in bargain basements. I think I still have those pants that Mom found."

"Unless Matt sneaked into your closet and gave them to Melina in exchange for her Paul O'Neill baseball card."

"Uh-uh. No way. He doesn't go around giving my stuff to his girlfriend."

"Oh, they're going out?"

"Kind of. It's more like they're going out and they don't quite realize it. The last time I was home, they were there, working on something for school. She went to get a Coke out of the fridge, and he watched her walk all the way there. A minute later, he went to get some snacks to go with their drinks–"

"Oh, she brought him one when she got hers?"

"Mm-hmm. Anyway, he went to get munchies, and she watched him the same way he'd watched her."

"I'd like to see that," Gordo said with a knowing grin.

"She was pretty subtle, for her anyway. She kept her glass up around her mouth the whole time he was walking away from her. And when he came back, she was reading over her notes."

"Sounds like those two on Joan of Arcadia."

"Grace and Luke? I guess. If Grace allowed herself to be studying with Luke where anybody could see them."

"There is that. Wait–weren't they part of a study group?"

"Yeah, they were. I was thinking of just the two of them."

"Oh, right. I'm sure Grace put that in her contract," Gordo said.