Stacy kept one eye on Greg and one on Lisa, prepared to signal as soon as that glazed-over, smug expression surfaced on Greg's face. Hair-pulling would prompt it, Stacy thought, feeling Lisa's hand slide into her hair, fingers already curling. The look-there it was, bright eyes and a devil-grin-appeared as soon as Stacy snapped her head back and reached for Lisa's face. Stacy squeezed Lisa's wrist-three fast pumps-with her other hand. In the flash of a half-second, they separated, hitched laughter already rising between them.

Greg shoulders hunched, his face fell, and Stacy could practically hear the hiss of his deflating ego. She turned her head and met Lisa's eyes as they collapsed against each other in a fit of giggles.

"Oh, God, you were right," Lisa said, bowing her head for another bout of laughter. "He thought we'd actually do that."

"He has the mind of a teenager who fantasizes about Derby Dolls and naked pillow fights. Of course, he did." Stacy smiled widely-she already felt the cheerful ache at the corners of her mouth-as Greg traded his wounded expression for embarrassed fury, spun, and stomped away without a word. She squeezed Lisa's shoulders, still snickering, and straightened up. "Want to get some lunch?"

Lisa smiled and wiped at her eyes. "I hope I can stop laughing long enough not to choke on my food," Lisa said and started with Stacy toward the cafeteria.