Ramona's World Read Free Page B

spelling would improve? It might get worse. Roberta stared as if she were trying to understand. Ramona stared back, still engulfed in self-pity, and thought, I wish somebody would call me darling and adorable like Roberta. But no, I’m just plain old messy Ramona. She stuck her tongue out at Roberta and immediately felt ashamed of herself. Her sweet innocent baby sister—
    Then, to Ramona’s astonishment, Roberta stuck her tongue out at Ramona. Ramona couldn’t believe it. Roberta was too little to understand. It must have been a coincidence. As an experiment Ramona stuck her tongue out again. Roberta smiled a real smile and stuck her tongue out again. It was a game. Ramona could scarcely believe what she had seen. “Mother, did you see that?” she asked in wonder. “Roberta stuck her tongue out when I stuck my tongue out, and she smiled, really smiled, like it was some kind of game.”
    Mrs. Quimby laughed. “I told you Roberta would take after you.”
    â€œBut she’s so awfully little,” said Ramona, still marveling.
    â€œBabies are more observant than we realize,” said Mrs. Quimby.
    Ramona’s troubles seemed to vanish. She had taught her baby sister to stick out her tongue. She could teach her other things when she was older, things like playing tic-tac-toe and roller-skating. As for spelling—pooh! Mrs. Meacham was just another teacher. Ramona had survived others, liked them, and even loved her kindergarten teacher. She would survive Mrs. Meacham, maybe get to like her, even though at the moment this seemed doubtful. Ramona didn’t care. Suddenly the sun was shining—it had shone all day, but Ramona hadn’t noticed, since she had gone to school—and now Roberta had copied her by sticking out her tongue.
    Ramona felt so good she held up her finger to Roberta, who grasped it in her tiny perfect hand. “See,” Ramona said to her mother, “I really am Roberta’s role model.” Then, in spite of herself, Ramona thought, r-o-l-e m-o-d-e-l .

3
AT DAISY’S HOUSE
    A s September sunshine changed to autumn clouds, life at the Quimbys’ house settled into a peaceful routine. Mr. Quimby, who managed the ShopRite Market, came home from work looking cheerful. Groceries had been delivered on time, no shoplifters were spotted, and no one had slipped on bits of lettuce dropped by careless produce customers.
    Mrs. Quimby found more time to read Moby Dick , a book with so many pages that members of the book club, most of them mothers or women who worked outside their homes or both, had difficulty finishing it. They postponed their meeting for another month. Ramona wondered why they didn’t just skip the hard parts.
    Roberta was a happy baby, busy enjoying her hands and feet. She could even put her toes in her mouth. So could Ramona, just barely, but no one else in the family even tried.
    Beezus was still filled with enthusiasm for high school. She liked all her teachers, and she had made a new friend, Abby Alexander, whose real name was Abigail. At dinnertime the Quimbys heard a lot about Abby: Abby wanted to be a math teacher or a dietician someday, Abby’s mother got her contact lenses, Abby got an A on her math test, Abby this and Abby that.
    All this left Ramona full of wishes. She sighed a lot and wished she had long hair like Daisy, and even though she had no need for them she wished she had bands on her teeth. She unfolded a paper clip, held the wire in front of her mouth, and smiled at herself in the mirror to see what she would look like if she wore bands. She wished she were a better speller without having to work at it, she wished Yard Ape would pay as much attention to her in school as on the bus, but most of all she wished there were girls her age on Klickitat Street. She wanted girls to play with. She wanted a best friend. That was why she ran all the way home from the bus stop one afternoon. She had news. A wish