Fifteen by Beverly Cleary

parents are.
    It did not take more than an hour on the telephone for the girls to decide they would not wear hats, because if they both went bareheaded it wouldn’t matter what Marcy did about a hat; that Julie would wear her navy blue suit, because it made her look thinner, and Jane would wear her gray suit and the white blouse that had tiny tucks down the front and really was very pretty even though it did have one of those awful round collars Mrs. Purdy always insisted on. (“But Jane, they’re so becoming.” “But Mom, they’re so childish.”) Jane would wear her black shoes that looked like pumps except they had low heels, and Julie would try to talk her mother into a new pair of shoes. Both girls would wear, or anyway carry,white gloves, because after all they were going to the city, weren’t they? The city was not the same as Woodmont. They had to be well dressed to go to the city.
    â€œGood heavens, Jane,” Mr. Purdy remarked at the end of this conversation. “You and Julie are only going about eight miles to eat some food you probably won’t like, with a couple of high school kids who are, I would like to remind you, mere mortals.”
    Jane smiled vaguely at her father and did not bother to answer. For a fleeting moment she felt sorry for him—poor old Pop, with his cat and his begonias to keep him happy.
    Jane spent the rest of the week in joyful anticipation. She was an extra-special girl to Stan, and if her mother and father let her go to the city with him, she should have no trouble getting permission for beach picnics and swimming parties. What a wonderful summer this had turned out to be, and fall should be even better. For the first time since she entered Woodmont High she would feel that she really belonged.
    Thursday Jane met Julie and although they both had Cokes in their refrigerators at home, they walked to Nibley’s and ordered Cokes. Plain Cokes,not those chocolate Coke floats they used to order. This was a splurge for Julie, who had been dieting for four days and should have ordered tomato juice.
    An earnest-looking boy in the front booth was holding the attention of the crowd. “And so I went up to my counselor,” he was saying, “and I said, ‘Why can’t I know what my IQ is? After all, it’s my IQ,’ and he told me if I found out I had a real low IQ of about twenty-seven or something I might get discouraged and quit studying.”
    The boy paused, and the two girls exchanged a quick glance. “I’ve simply got to find time to wash my hair before we go to the city for dinner with Stan and Buzz,” remarked Julie in a voice that was not exactly loud but nicely calculated to carry to the crowd around them.
    â€œAnd my counselor said if I found out I was a genius I would think I was so good I would quit studying anyhow,” the boy continued, but his audience was losing interest.
    â€œI wish I had a yellow blouse,” said Jane, as if she were completely unaware of the interest others were taking in their conversation. “Stan always likes me in yellow.”
    â€œSo then my counselor said, ‘I’ll tell you onething. Your IQ is over a hundred,’” the boy went on, but now no one was listening.
    The faces reflected in the mirror behind the milk shake machines revealed that the girls around them were wishing they had dates for dinner in the city too, and that they were sure to spread the news to every girl in Woodmont. Jane and Julie left Nibley’s feeling that they had enjoyed an unusually pleasant afternoon.
    On Friday Stan came by to drive Jane to a babysitting job—an easy job this time, sitting with a baby who slept most of the time and whose mother only went out between feedings and who always left a snack for the sitter. It was really an ideal job and Jane was glad, because she did not want anything to intrude into her lovely glow of anticipation.
    â€œI’m sure