Free Ralph S. Mouse by Beverly Cleary Page A

took a deep breath, and went pb-pb-b-b . The car did not move.
    Some noisy skiers came in from outdoors but paid no attention to the kneeling boys as they crossed the lobby. The boys crouched behind the couch until they had gone.
    â€œSilly,” said Ryan. “That’s your old motorcycle noise. You’ve got to make a sports car noise to make a sports car move.”
    â€œStupid of me,” admitted Ralph, who had been too excited to think straight. He took another deep breath, made his voice as low as a squeaky voice could go, and went vroom-vroom . The Laser began to roll across the floor. Ralph was driving! He was actually driving this beautiful sports car. He drove it straight into the leg of a couch, where it stopped. Ralph vroomed again. The car did not budge.
    Matt, who had joined the boys to watch, asked, “How’s the little fellow going to back up?” Silence. No one had thought of this problem.

    Ryan’s mother stepped out of the elevator. “Hello, Ryan,” she said with a smile. “Is this your new friend?”
    â€œYes, this is Brad,” answered Ryan, with his hand on the Laser XL7 so his mother would not see Ralph.
    â€œHi.” Brad was unexpectedly shy.
    â€œI’m glad you could come home with Ryan,” said Mrs. Bramble. “What are you boys doing?”
    â€œPlaying with a little car,” said Ryan.
    â€œPlay quietly,” said Mrs. Bramble, “and if the manager appears, you’d better go out to our cottage. Or perhaps you could show Brad around. He might like to see the kitchen.” With that advice, she went off to make sure the maids had cleaned the ground-floor bedrooms properly.
    Brad sat back on his heels. “Your mom sure is nice,” he said.
    â€œYes,” agreed Ryan, his thoughts on Ralph’s problems.
    Vroom-vroom-vroom . Ralph made a noise like a racing motor. The car did not move.
    â€œWhat we need is your dad’s tow truck,” remarked Ryan. Ralph found the boys’ laughter most annoying.
    â€œI know,” said Brad. “If going vroom makes the car go forward, maybe saying vroom backwards would make it back up. Moorv .”
    â€œMoorv.” Ryan tried out the sound. “It’s hard to say, but if it works, that’s OK. Backing a car is slower than going forward. Try it, Ralph.”
    â€œMoorv.” The car inched away from the leg of the couch. “Moorv.” The car was free. “Vroom.” Ralph drove off in a wide circle and returned to his friends. “Do I get to keep it?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s all yours,” said Brad. “To make up for your broken motorcycle.”
    â€œDon’t you need it?” asked Ralph, unable to believe that anyone would give away such a car.
    â€œNot anymore,” Brad told him. “Not since I have a BMX.”
    Ralph was speechless with joy. He ran his paw lovingly over the dashboard of his very own car.
    â€œWait till your relatives see you riding around in a Laser XL7,” remarked Matt.
    Ralph leaned out the driver’s window. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought they all moved back upstairs.”
    â€œMost of them did,” said Matt, “but a few of your outdoor relatives still hang around, hoping you’ll bring the motorcycle back.”
    Just my luck, thought Ralph. That rowdy bunch.
    There was the sound of someone stamping snow off boots at the entrance of the inn. Matt hastily returned to his chair by the front door while Ralph quickly and skillfully drove his car under the clock. The boots turned out to belong, not to a guest, but to a man delivering the Cucaracha Voice . He shoved the papers into a rack and hurried out.
    Matt removed a copy of the newspaper, put on his spectacles, and read the headlines. Then something at the bottom of the front page caught his eye. “Say, do you boys know a Miss Heidi Kuckenbacker down at Sneed?” he asked.
    â€œYes,