Chapter 4: a date

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It was getting towards the end of the year; I'd just got home from school and was sitting at my dressing table (which had replaced my desk) looking at myself in the mirror. My old misgivings about what I was doing to myself were resurfacing, bought on by something that had happened at school that day.

My mother came in and sat down on my bed without saying anything.

"Oh, Mum," I exclaimed despairingly.

"What is it, love?"

"A boy at school has asked me to be his date for our end-of-year dance in two weeks time."

"I hope he's good-looking?" she said with a smile.

"Oh, Mum," I rebuked her, then added, "Well, yes, I suppose he's not bad."

"So?"

"I want to go to the dance, all my friends will be going."

"So?"

"But for me to have a boy as my date, it's stupid."

"No, it's not. Most of your friends will have dates."

"But what if he wants to do things . . . you know?"

"Darling, this is what girls have to deal with all the time. He's your date: you hold hands, you dance together, you have fun and at the end, a quick kiss goodnight if you want to."

"Do you think that's all it will be? He won't see through me, will he?"

"No way known, sweetheart. Have a good time, just avoid anything serious and that shouldn't be hard."

"I suppose not."

I had a great time.

The kiss goodnight was perhaps a bit more than 'quick', but it was okay, no big deal.

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