Ramona's World (5 page)

“Not on the inside,” said Beezus in despair. “Just on the outside.”

“Oh, Beezus—” repeated Mrs. Quimby as if she could not find words to express her sympathy for her daughter.

Roberta seemed to understand that her home at the moment was not as happy as she wanted it to be. First she looked worried. Then she began to whimper.

“Sh-h-h,” soothed Mrs. Quimby, trying to distract the baby before she spoke to Beezus. “You are pretty. You have lovely eyes and shining hair.”

“Nobody ever says so.” Beezus's anger melted, leaving her wilted and tearful. “And sometimes my face breaks out in spots.”

“I think you're sort of pretty, even with spots.” Ramona, loyal to her sister, wanted her to be happy. If Beezus was happy, Ramona could look forward to being happy when she reached high school. Not that Ramona wasn't happy now. She was, except sometimes.

Beezus did not seem comforted. She sniffed and blew her nose. “I'm sorry for being such a—I don't know what.”

“Don't be.” Mrs. Quimby wiped her own eyes. “Everyone has to let off a little steam now and then. I'm glad to know how you feel. I don't know what your father will say, but cheer up. What's done is done. Next Saturday we'll go shopping for some pretty earrings and something to wear to the party.”

“Thank you,” said Beezus with a watery smile as her mother carried Roberta off to the bedroom to change her.

“One down, one to go,” said Ramona as if life were a football game on television. Beezus picked up a magazine and sat turning the pages without really looking at them. Ramona could tell she was trying to think what to say when she faced her father.

When Mr. Quimby came home from work, he left an armload of groceries in the kitchen before he came into the living room. “Hi, kids,” he said, and when he looked at Beezus, said, “Well, well, what have we here?”

Beezus dropped the magazine to face her father, ready to defend her ears. “They are my ears and I used my own money,” she informed him. “I don't care what you say.”

“Relax, Beezus.” Mr. Quimby kissed the top of her head and said, “So our little girl is growing up. I'm surprised you didn't have your nose pierced while you were at it.” He rumpled her hair affectionately.

“Dad, don't be silly,” said Beezus, obviously relieved. “You know I wouldn't do a thing like that.”

“You never can tell,” said Mr. Quimby. “Kids today . . .” He left to change out of his supermarket clothes.

Beezus fell back in her chair and said, “Whew. That's over.”

Ramona felt the same way. Now, if she ever wanted her ears pierced, which was hard to imagine, but if she ever should, all she would have to say was, Beezus had
her
ears pierced. And then when Roberta's turn came—Ramona did not even want to think of Roberta's tender little ears being shot with a thing that looked like a staple gun.

“Ramona, time to set the table,” Mrs. Quimby called out.

“Okay,” said Ramona, but she was thinking about Beezus growing up and about what it would be like to grow up herself. She felt the way she felt when she was reading a good book. She wanted to know what would happen next.

R
amona was impatient to go to Daisy's house again, especially now that Beezus was talking so much about the upcoming party. She liked the Kidds' big untidy house with a dog, a cat, and a big brother. She also liked licking juice bars while watching
Big Hospital
. When the next visit was arranged, Ramona and Daisy ran from the school bus to Daisy's house. Jeremy was already lounging in front of the television set watching an ice hockey game.

The girls exchanged looks. “Germy, aren't you going to walk Mutley?” Daisy asked as if the dog were all she had on her mind. On hearing his name, Mutley raised his head, decided Daisy's words were not important, and rested his nose on his paws once more.

“Nope.” Jeremy was definite. “And no, I'm not going to let you have the TV this time.”

“Oh, well.” Daisy was used to her big brother. “Come on, Ramona, let's go upstairs to my room and play dress-up.”

“Nice try,” said Jeremy.

As the girls climbed the stairs, Ramona could not help thinking that if the Quimbys' house had a second story they would have more bedrooms, and she and Beezus would not always be arguing over whose turn it was to dust the crowded space they now had to share because Roberta had Ramona's old room. Daisy, Ramona could see, was not neat at all.

Daisy pulled a carton to the center of her room and began to pull out clothes: satins, velvets, hats with flowers and veils, a long black cape, high-heeled shoes.

“Wow!” breathed Ramona. “Where did you get all this?”

“Oh—around,” said Daisy. “Mom collected most of it for me, because she loved to dress up when she was my age, only she couldn't find much to dress up in.”

Nice mom, thought Ramona as she chose a long red dress with a flounce around the bottom and slipped it over her head.

Daisy pulled out a long yellow dress trimmed with little things that glittered, but before she poked her head into it she pulled off her slacks. “Dresses don't look good over pants, and besides, I like the swishy feeling against my legs,” she explained.

Ramona, deciding she was right, pulled her pants off, too. Her dress felt smooth and silky against her bare legs. She snatched up a hat trimmed with some battered roses and set it on her head. Then she pulled off her shoes (her nice shoes!) and stuck her feet into high-heeled sandals, which made her glamorous, she felt, even if they were too big. “Look! I'm a star!” Ramona lifted her arms as if she were a dancer before she clonked across the room to look at herself in the mirror. “I'm gorgeous,” she announced, pretending she had long blond hair. “I'm beautiful. I'm me, gorgeous, beautiful me!”

“I'm Miss America.” Daisy twirled around. “I'm so beautiful all the other girls in the competition went home.”

Both girls clonked around, turning and swishing as if they were in a television fashion show. When they both turned their ankles and fell off their shoes, they collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles.

Then Ramona discovered a long pink dress and because she was already gorgeous and beautiful decided to promote herself to princess. She quickly changed while Daisy switched from Miss America to a witch in a long black velvet gown and a small green hat with only three small holes in the veil. “I'm wicked!” cried Daisy.

“Great,” said Ramona. “I never liked books with nice witches.”

“I'm going to shut the beautiful princess in a dungeon!” Daisy made a witch face.

“Where are you going to find a dungeon to shut me in?” Ramona was a defiant princess.

“That's easy.” The wicked witch pushed aside the clothes in her closet to reveal a small door, which she opened. Behind it was a dark space under the eaves, which was the attic.

Inside, in the half-light, Ramona saw a few boards laid across the joists to make a place for storing luggage. Beyond, Ramona could see, barely, the lath and plaster that made the ceilings of the rooms downstairs.

“See!” cried Daisy. “The wicked witch is going to shut the beautiful princess in the dark dungeon full of rats and feed her bread and water.” She grabbed Ramona and pushed her toward the closet within a closet.

“No, she isn't!” cried Ramona, twisting away from Daisy. “The princess is going to throw the witch in the dungeon and feed her cold oatmeal!”

“Yuck,” gagged Daisy. She shoved Ramona. Ramona shoved back. One shoe fell off. Daisy pushed harder and shoved Ramona through the little door into the dim space beyond. Ramona, in one shoe, stepped on her pink dress, lost her balance, turned, grabbed at nothing, and stepped off the boards onto the lath and plaster. There was an ominous cracking sound beneath her feet.

“Oh, no!” cried Daisy.

“Help!” shouted Ramona as the lath began to break beneath her weight, and she found herself sinking. Daisy screamed. The lath made snapping sounds. The pink dress ripped. Ramona heard bits of plaster hitting something below and felt her legs being scratched as the pink dress bunched up around her waist. Her other shoe fell off and hit something downstairs with a thump. She heard Mrs. Kidd cry out, “Oh my!”

Jeremy yelled, “Hey!” Mutley barked.

Desperate, Ramona bent forward over the joist to stop her fall and searched frantically with her feet to find something to stand on. There was nothing, only air. Above her, rain pattered on the roof.

“Ramona, hang on!” Daisy called out. “Jeremy, come quick!”

“I'm hanging.” Ramona was terrified. The sharp edge of the joist was pressing into her waist and her legs were cold. She wondered how much longer she could hang on. What if there really were rats in the attic? Dust was everywhere. Ramona sneezed. Below, Mutley barked harder, as if he were warning off an intruder. “Hurry,” she wailed. On the television a referee blew a whistle and a crowd roared.

“They're coming,” cried equally terrified Daisy, grabbing at the back of the pink dress. Thumping feet were heard on the stairs.

In a moment Jeremy pushed his sister aside and, standing on the boards, seized Ramona under the arms and tugged. “Dumb kids” was his comment.

“Ow,” said Ramona. Jeremy tugged harder and managed to pull her out of the hole she had made. “Yow!” escaped from Ramona even though she was grateful to be rescued. As she was pulled out of the hole, she had a glimpse below of the dining room table covered with rubble.

“Oh, you poor child.” Mrs. Kidd was filled with sympathy, concern, and relief.

Ramona was so glad to be standing on the hard floor with the remains of the pink dress heaped around her feet that she began to cry.

Mrs. Kidd hugged her and murmured, “There, there. You're safe now. Everything is all right.”

“No, it isn't,” wept Ramona. “I made a big hole in the floor—ceiling—”

“Whatever,” said Jeremy, and left the room to clump down to the television set.

“Thank you,” sniffled Ramona, remembering her manners even though Jeremy had left. “You saved my life.” She began to cry harder. She had broken the ceiling and could never come to the Kidds' house again and she and Daisy couldn't be best friends and she would be left with Howie and messy old Willa Jean to play with and—

“Daisy, find Ramona some Kleenex,” said Mrs. Kidd. Daisy produced a box from her dresser. Ramona mopped her nose and eyes as Mrs. Kidd helped her down the stairs.

“I'll get her pants,” said Daisy.

Downstairs, in the bathroom, Mrs. Kidd pulled off the pink dress. “Oh, my dear—” she said when she saw Ramona's legs. She began to clean the scratches with cotton and stinging liquid from a bottle. Then she covered them with Band-Aids, all sizes. When she had finished, Ramona gave a final sniff. Mrs. Kidd washed her face, kissed her, and said, “There. You're as good as new.”

A fresh worry, paying for the damage, crept into Ramona's mind. Payday, the checks her mother wrote to pay bills, taxes, and all those grown-up things whirled around in her mind.

“That was some hole you made,” said Jeremy as she and Mrs. Kidd went into the living room, where Clawed was peeking out from under the couch. Mutley, his tail drooping, looked anxious.

Ramona suddenly had a new thought. If Daisy hadn't been trying to shut her in a dungeon, none of this would have happened. Maybe it was Daisy's fault. Maybe she should be angry with Daisy. She was confused. She didn't want to be angry with her best friend. Still . . . she didn't know what to think.

Only then did Ramona gather her courage to look toward the dining room, where she saw in the ceiling a dark hole edged with broken lath and bits of plaster. The dining room table was covered with dust, rubble, and, in the midst of the mess, one high-heeled sandal. And the table had been set for—this made Ramona feel really bad—five places, one for her. Suddenly she didn't want to stay for dinner. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be home with her own mother comforting her for her scratches and for the loss of her best friend. She looked at Daisy, wanting to say, It was all your fault for pushing me, but she did not say it, not in front of Mrs. Kidd. She would wait until school Monday and then she would—