"Are we interrupting anything?" Lizzie asked.

"No. Um, not—not really," Gordo replied.

"Gordo and I are going out tomorrow afternoon," Heather said.

"Oh, right, you hadn't figured out what day yet, " Miranda said.

"That's great, you guys!" Lizzie said. "Now let's dig into these smoothies."

--

On the walk back to Lizzie's …

"So, Gordo, you're picking me up at Lizzie's, right?" Heather asked.

"Sure, sounds good."

"Is casual okay? Nothing fancier than what we'd wear to school?"

"Oh, yeah. Glad you thought of it," Gordo said.

Heather turned to say something to Lizzie, and Gordo furrowed his brow slightly. Miranda noticed and made a mental note to talk to Gordo later, when the others weren't around.

On arrival at Lizzie's, Miranda was told that her parents were on their way to pick her up. "Oh, they'll be here any minute then," she said. "Heather, if I don't see you again, it's been cool hangin' with ya." She said her goodbyes, complete with hugs.

"Come and wait with me, keep me company 'til they get here," Miranda said to Gordo.

"My folks are expecting me for dinner, so I should go in a minute anyway," Gordo said.

A few steps from the door, Miranda said, "You seemed kind of fidgety on the way home. Everything okay?"

Gordo knew better than to try to fool her. "Not really. Heather asking about what to wear kind of threw me."

"Hmm. I saw your face kind of do this"—Miranda mimicked Gordo's furrowing his brow—"and I thought it was something like that."

"I didn't even think about it until she asked," Gordo said, his jaw tightening the way it did when he was upset with himself.

"It's okay. I'll be your life coach—again," Miranda said, with a little smirk after a pause.

"'Bowling will not make my fingers swell,'" Gordo said, quoting from a phrase Miranda had given him to help him with the stress of bowling.

"Excellent!" Miranda said, patting him on the head. "Now, about this date. It's summer, and nobody dresses up in the summer."

"Well, I wasn't going to wear my Rat Pack suit."

"Good. You're not as far gone as I was afraid of. So, anyway, you don't even have to wear long pants. I bet she won't."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. She'll want to look nice, though. What you and I are wearing right now is fine for best buds hangin'. For your date, you'll want to step it up just a taste," Miranda said.

"Like maybe a rugby shirt instead of a T-shirt?"

"Yeah, not bad. You've got the idea. Neat, clean, presentable, the whole bit."

"Presentable. I can do presentable. Thanks, Miranda." Gordo smiled appreciatively.

"You're welcome." She returned his smile. "Got your back. This was easier than the other time I was your life coach."

Yeah, no Phase 2 or cookies."

They shared a friendly chuckle at the memory, then Miranda recognized the car slowing down as it approached the McGuire house. "Oh, there's my mom. Bye, Gordo! Call me tomorrow if you need to!"

--

Miranda, in her living room, had just started to look through the latest Teen Attitude magazine—the "Hottest Hotties" issue—when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Miranda, it's me."

"Oh! Hey, Gordo, what's up?" The ringing of the phone had startled her, and Gordo's voice sounded tense.

"Well, it's my hair."

"What about your hair?"

"I don't know what to do with it."

"H-have you done anything with it?"

"No. I didn't know if I needed to use mousse or—"

"NO! I mean, no, you don't need mousse. Uh-uh."

"Uh, okay," Gordo said, not sure what to make of Miranda's agitated tone. "I just didn't know if I should try to slick it down or something."

"No, just wash it, blow-dry it, and brush it. If you slick it down, you'll look like a gangster on Hallowe'en."

"Ohh," Gordo said, trying to process Miranda's comment. "Okay. Presentable."

"Right. Wait—you weren't thinking of makeup, were you?"

"No! Yikes!"

"Oh, good. Juuust checking," Miranda said, her relief evident in her voice. "So, is there anything else you need me for?"

"No, I think I'm okay now. Thanks, and wish me luck."

"Good luck! And Gordo, she's the lucky one," Miranda said sincerely.