Read Online Fifteen by Beverly Cleary - Free Book Online Page B

Jane, resolving not to mention Stan so much, even though lately it seemed as if his name was always on the tip of her tongue.
    â€œBy the way, Jane,” said Mr. Purdy jovially, “I noticed a mysterious bicycle in the shrubbery thatnight you and Stan went to the movies. I wonder whose it was.”
    â€œPop, please don’t tease.”
    â€œTease? Who’s teasing?” Mr. Purdy asked.
    â€œPop, promise you won’t ever mention the bicycle to Stan,” Jane begged. “I’m sure he doesn’t want me to know he rode it over here.”
    â€œVery mysterious,” said Mr. Purdy. “Very mysterious the ways of the young.”
    It was not until Jane and Stan were in Nibley’s after the movie that a real problem arose. This time they had a booth to themselves, near the bubbling, boiling jukebox, and Jane did not order a childish dish of ice cream. She ordered a cup of coffee.
    â€œDo you really like coffee?” Stan asked curiously over his chocolate milk shake.
    The coffee tasted bitter. Jane added more cream. “Sometimes,” fibbed Jane, bravely taking another sip. She felt less sophisticated than she had hoped she would.
    â€œI don’t,” said Stan. “I can’t see why so many people like such bitter stuff.”
    â€œOh, you get used to it,” said Jane, trying to sound convincing. She took another cautious sip.
    Someone put a dime in the jukebox, and Stanlooked at Jane across the table. “Next Saturday is the last Saturday of summer vacation,” he said.
    â€œIt is, isn’t it?” Jane could feel that something special was coming.
    â€œHow would you like to go to the city for dinner, with two other couples, to celebrate?” he asked.
    Dinner in the city! White tablecloths, courteous waiters, things cooked with mushrooms and herbs, flaming desserts! What on earth would she wear? “I would love to go,” Jane told Stan, and at the same time she was sure her mother and father would never let her. But they had to, Jane decided. A date for dinner in the city was too important to miss. Jane was filled with a glorious feeling of confidence as she looked across the table at Stan. A boy did not ask a girl to go to dinner in the city unless she was somebody extra special.
    â€œGreg and Marcy want to go and so does Buzz Bratton, only he hasn’t asked a girl yet,” Stan went on.
    â€œIt sounds wonderful,” said Jane, although she was disappointed that Marcy was to be included. Buzz Bratton, she had known all her life. He was a small, wiry, black-haired boy with a crew cut, and now that he was a junior in high school Jane classified him as the yell-leader type. When she was inthe seventh grade and he was in the eighth, he used to wait for her after school on cooking-class day—not to walk home with her, but to chase her and snatch whatever she had cooked and was taking home for her family to sample. After devouring her baked stuffed onion or chocolate cornstarch pudding, he always pretended to have terrible pains in his stomach. However, now that he was older he might be fun on a double date, Jane conceded, if only he didn’t tease. A girl shouldn’t hold a baked stuffed onion against a boy forever.
    â€œDad said I could have the car that night,” Stan continued.
    At last they were going someplace in a real car, Jane thought ecstatically—or rather they were going if her mother and father weren’t stuffy and old-fashioned about it. Well, if they were, she would have to talk them out of it. She would plan her campaign carefully.
    â€œWe thought it would be fun to have dinner in Chinatown. I used to eat there a lot with my folks when we lived in the city. Do you like Chinese food?”
    Jane set down her empty coffee cup and hastily revised her picture of dinner in the city. “Yes, I do,” she answered, because now that she had managedto get the coffee down, she was sure she would enjoy