Free Girls Out Late by Jacqueline Wilson

looking stupid and saying sorry over and over again.
    See you—I
HOPE
! Russell
    He’s done a small sketch of himself—floppy hair, earnest expression, pencil in one hand, sketchbook in the other. There are little initial letters on the sketchbook, so tiny I have to hold them up to my eyes and squint. R L E. Rule? Role? No, Russell. R for Russell, E for Ellie? L? L? L? L? L? L? L? L? L?
    Russell Loves Ellie.
    I feel as if I’m on a giant switchback, swooping up and over, up and over, up and over.
    “Aren’t you making your old dad a cup of coffee too?” says Dad, coming into the kitchen.
    “Sure.” I shove the letter quickly into my pocket.
    “Nice letter?”
    “Hmm.”
    “He wants to see you again?”
    “Sort of, yeah.”
    “So what are you going to do? Your dad expressly forbids it.”
    “What?” I stare at Dad. “Are you serious?”
    Dad is trying to frown but his eyes are twinkling. “Sort of,” he says. “Look, Ellie, I got seriously panicky about Thursday night. It’s the first time you’ve ever been out after dark like that and I couldn’t stand it.”
    “I bet you went out with girls when you were my age.”
    “Maybe that’s why I panicked. I remember all too clearly what I was like when I was Russell’s age. It makes me cringe now. I didn’t treat girls like people. I was trapped in this awful stuffy boys’ school so I never knew girls properly. They were just amazing exotic creatures and we were struck dumb in their company and it was like this sick competition seeing how far you could go with them—”
    “Dad!”
    “I know, I know. And then we’d boast about it afterwards to our mates—exaggerating obviously, saying all this degrading stuff.”
    “Look, Dad, that was way back when boys were like Neanderthals. Russell isn’t a bit like that,” I insist, though I feel myself getting pink in the face, remembering the way we kissed.
    “I know, I know,” says Dad. “As soon as I met him I could see he’s just a nice decent kid who wants to be friends with my daughter. He told me you had this long intense conversation about art. He showed me his sketch of you, by the way, and it’s
good.
His style needs a bit of fine-tuning but for his age he’s got a great sense of line. Anyway, I felt like a total prat. I believed he was a sex-crazed loony slobbering all over you when all the time you were having this totally platonic artistic discussion.”
    “Yeah, that’s just the way it was, Dad, I told you,” I say, still pink in the face. “So, as you realize times have changed, is it OK if I go out with Russell? To do some sketching together!”
    “That’s the thing, Ellie. Times
have
changed. When I was young I stayed out till really late as a teenager and no one turned a hair. Even when Anna was young she went out to local discos and youth clubs when she was thirteen or fourteen. But now there aren’t any harmless little discos, it’s all wild raves. And you know I don’t want you going anywhere near Seventh Heaven again after they did that drug raid there.”
    “OK, OK, I promise we won’t
go
to Seventh Heaven.”
    “I don’t feel happy about you and Russell going anywhere, Ellie, not after dark. The town is attracting a whole load of yobs who just want to roam around picking fights and getting into trouble. I’m not surprised Russell’s dad was really worried about him being out late.”
    “Russell can look after himself, Dad. He’s not some sad little wimp.”
    “He could be Mr. Muscles Macho Man. It wouldn’t make any difference if a whole gang started in on him.”
    “You’re getting totally
paranoid,
Dad.”
    “Maybe. I don’t know. But how about if you and Russell met up after school and then he went back home around nine?”
    “Dad! We’re not
Eggs’s
age!”
    “I know, I know—but you’re as precious to me as Eggs and I don’t need another night like Thursday. Look, you’re still supposed to be in the doghouse for that. I’ll let you see