Fifteen by Beverly Cleary Page A

glad you can go tomorrow,” said Stan when it was time for Jane to get out of the truck.
    â€œI’m glad too,” said Jane shyly, hopping to the ground. “I know we’re going to have a wonderful time.”
    And the next day was Saturday.

Chapter 5
    By quarter to six on Saturday Jane, who had been too excited to eat lunch, was ready. She sat on the edge of the sofa in her carefully pressed suit, pulled on her white gloves, and after a few minutes pulled them off. Then she put them on again, decided they made her feel as if her hands belonged to Minnie Mouse, and peeled them off a second time. Perhaps someday she would learn to wear gloves gracefully.
    Promptly at six o’clock the doorbell rang. “Be still, my heart!” Mr. Purdy laid his hand over his heart and spoke in an exaggerated whisper.
    â€œPop!” implored Jane, as she opened the front door.
    Never had Jane seen Stan look so attractive. He had a fresh, scrubbed appearance and was wearing a gray flannel suit, a white shirt that set off his tan, and a green tie, just the right color for his greenish eyes. Jane stood smiling at him with admiration and sensed at once that something was wrong. Stan was painfully embarrassed.
    â€œUh…Jane.” Stan hesitated and then went on. “At the last minute Dad had to use the car on a business trip, and Greg and Buzz couldn’t get their cars either and…well, my cousin said I could…uh…take the Doggie Diner truck. I…I hope you don’t mind going in the truck.”
    Jane was engulfed in disappointment. Driving to the city on a special date in a truck, especially the Doggie Diner truck—how perfectly awful! But the expression on Stan’s face quickly made her stifle her own feelings. His eyes were pleading with her not to mind, to be a good sport about riding in the truck.
    Jane was filled with sudden sympathy for Stan. She could not let him down. “Of course I don’t mind,” she managed to say gaily. “What difference does it make? It has four wheels and a motor, doesn’t it? That’s all that really counts.” Her reward was Stan’s smile of relief. Darling Stan.What difference did it make what they rode in, as long as they were together?
    When she climbed into the front seat, Jane saw that Greg and Buzz were already sitting on cushions in the back of the truck. Buzz whistled when he saw her. “Hey, don’t you look nice!”
    â€œYou’re looking sharp yourself,” Jane flashed back at him. It always helped a girl to have a boy whistle at her.
    The first stop was Marcy’s house, a new house in the hill section of Woodmont. When Marcy walked out to the truck with Greg, she stopped and laughed. “No!” she exclaimed. “We aren’t really going in the Doggie Diner truck! How perfectly marvelous!”
    Out of the corner of her eye Jane could see Stan’s face turn red. Shut up, Marcy, she thought fiercely; can’t you see Stan is embarrassed enough as it is?
    â€œIsn’t this a scream?” Marcy went on, as she climbed into the truck beside Jane. “Isn’t this the funniest thing you ever heard of?”
    If it were somebody else who was going to the city in the truck, Jane admitted to herself, she would think it was funny. But since it was Stan who had got them into this situation, she could not laugh. She smiled reassuringly at Stan, but hiseyes were on the road. Sitting beside him made Jane feel pleasantly possessive and a little important, because her date was the driver. It made up for sharing the seat with Marcy, who was wearing an expensively casual tweed suit with a plain silk blouse and pumps with real high heels. Jane began to feel that her own dainty blouse with tucks and a round collar looked like a baby dress and that her suit was too obviously her best suit. Beside Marcy she felt as prim as…well, as prim as Miss Muffet.
    The last stop was Julie’s