Free Fifteen by Beverly Cleary

anything when she was with Stan. She tried to remember if she had ever eaten any Chinese food. Yes—once when she and her mother went shopping in the city, they had ordered lunch at a department store tearoom, and chop suey had been on the menu. Or maybe it was chow mein. Anyway, something slithery that Jane did not remember clearly.
    That night, after she had watched Stan take his bicycle out of its hiding place in the firethorn bushes, Jane lay awake, tense from coffee and excitement. Her thoughts whirled like confetti in the wind—Stan handsome in a white shirt and tie arriving in a car instead of a truck…riding in the front seat beside Stan…sitting with him in a Chinese restaurant fragrant with incense (at least she thought a Chinese restaurant would be fragrant with incense; she wasn’t sure)…their eyes meeting across the teacups. The Chinese did drink tea. That she was sure of. How wonderful it was going to be! Now she was really grown-up, mature, sophisticated, a young woman with a dinner date. A dinner date with Stan.
    Long after she should have been asleep, Jane’s thoughts were interrupted by the peculiar muffledcry of a cat that has been successful in the hunt. Sir Puss had caught another gopher, Jane realized, and as she lay listening to his insistent cry, she knew he would not be silent until he had received the praise that he felt was his due. Mr. Purdy raised his bedroom window, and through her own window Jane caught a glimpse of his flashlight playing on the cat. “My, that’s a big one,” Mr. Purdy complimented him and, satisfied, the cat was quiet.
    The interruption started Jane’s thoughts spinning in another direction. She had to evolve a practical plan for persuading her mother and father to let her go to the city. Sunday breakfast was the best time to bring up the matter, because it might take her all week to win the argument. She would state that she was going to the city for dinner, as if it had never occurred to her that there would be any question about her going. Then she would overcome their objections one by one. “But Mom, you said yourself he was a nice boy.” “But Pop, he does drive carefully.” “But Mom, of course he’s a good driver or his father wouldn’t let him take the car.” “But Mom…” “But Pop…” Over and over again.
    On Sunday, however, Jane did not find the right moment to broach the matter to hermother and father. She waited all day, as alert as a cat at a mouse hole; but late in the afternoon, when she thought the moment had come and she was about to pounce on it, friends dropped in. They were persuaded to stay for supper and then lingered until Jane had gone to bed.
    On Monday Stan called to say that Buzz did not have a date, and did Jane know another girl? After thinking it over, Jane decided to ask Julie, because she felt guilty about having seen so little of her since meeting Stan and because Julie was also fifteen and would not make Jane feel uncomfortable. Jane waited until her mother was out of earshot to telephone Julie and extend the invitation.
    â€œOh, Jane! Dinner in the city—how marvelous!” Julie squealed with delight. “Mother and Dad have simply got to let me go!” Julie chattered happily on about how absolutely heavenly it would be to have a date with a boy who wasn’t an old family friend, even if he was a little short, and how she was simply mad about Chinese food, especially since it wasn’t fattening, and did Jane plan to wear a hat, because if she did Julie didn’t know what she would do. Then, after pausing to catch her breath, she asked, “But Jane, how did you ever talk your family into letting you go?”
    Jane sighed. “I haven’t. That’s the awful part. I haven’t been able to talk to them together yet and anyway, I’m scared to bring it up.”
    â€œI know,” sympathized