Girls Out Late Read Online Free PDF Page A

late.”
    “No, it’s not, look, some of the kids are still out playing.”
    There’s a little bunch of them whizzing around on the roundabout in the dark, sharing crisps and swigging Coke.
    “Well, I know it’s not
late
-late but I was supposed to be home ages ago.”
    “But we haven’t had a swing yet. Come on, Ellie. One quick swing.”
    “OK, one quintessentially quick swing and then I must
go home
.”
    “Promise. I love the way you talk, Ellie. You’re so different from other girls.”
    We walk over the tufty grass toward the play area. I’m glad I’m not wearing my high heels. I’m wearing shabby red trainers, the rubber treads worn right down—but I feel I’m bouncing on springs. It’s really happening. I’m Ellie and I’m walking hand in hand with this boy who likes it that I’m different. He likes
me,
he likes
me,
he likes
me
.
    We get to the swings and I think of all the times I’ve been here in the past. First with my mum, and there’s a sad little tug of my heart even now because I still miss her so much and she’ll
always
come first with me. Then there were the times Dad took me, pushing me so high on the swings I’d get scared I’d loop the loop right over the bar at the top. Nowadays Dad pushes Eggs, who once fell right off and nearly lived up to his nickname and scrambled himself. Magda, Nadine and I sometimes hang out in the park in the summer too and have long long long discussions about clothes and makeup and hairstyles and rock stars and
boys.
    And now I’m here with a boy, and he’s swinging and I’m swinging, kicking right up high until my trainers point higher than the tops of the silhouetted poplars edging the park. I put my head back and make it feel even speedier but I start to get giddy and when I slow down and jump off, the park suddenly tips sideways and spins by itself.
    “Whoops,” says Russell, and he reaches out and steadies me. “Are you OK, Ellie?”
    Then before I can answer he bends his head and kisses me. It’s just a little kiss, our lips gently bumping. We break away. I blink behind my bleary glasses.
    “Oh, Ellie,” says Russell, and he kisses me again. A proper kiss. A real pressed-up-close, mouths working, meaningful kiss. I never thought it would feel so strange, so special. I feel even giddier. I cling to him and he holds me even closer.
    There’s something spraying in my hair. Is it raining? And little flaky things land on my shoulder.
Snowing?
    Laughter.
    I push Russell away. The kids are surrounding us, deliberately sprinkling us with Coke and crisps.
    “Snog snog snoggy snog!” they jeer.
    “Get lost, you lot,” says Russell.
    He has a crisp sticking up in his hair like a little ribbon. I remove it—and we both start giggling.
    “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private,” says Russell, taking my hand. “Over by the trees?”
    “No, I must get back, really.”
    “Oh, come on—please, Ellie.”
    “I’m sure it’s time to go home.”
    “Like Andy Pandy. Did you ever see that
Watch
with Mother
video? I love little kids’ programs.”
    “Me too! I used to like
Sesame Street
best.”
    “And me. I used to draw them all with my felt-tip pens. All my little buddies in the nursery class wanted one of my special Big Bird portraits.”
    “You’ll have to draw the Cookie Monster for me, he’s my favorite.”
    “Did you like
Art Attack
when Zoe Ball was on it, ages and ages ago?”
    “Yes, I
loved
it.”
    “There’s this guy in my class crazy about Zoe Ball, and he paid me a fiver to do a special portrait of him with his arm round her.”
    “Hey, that’s a great idea. All the girls in my class are nuts about Leonardo DiCaprio so maybe I’ll do heaps of portraits of him and make my fortune.”
    “Some people say I look a bit like Leonardo DiCaprio—you know, my hairstyle and my features. Do you think so, Ellie?”
    I mumble something politely. He doesn’t look remotely like Leonardo DiCaprio. I’m glad Nadine and Magda