Free Ramona's World by Beverly Cleary Page A

tray and wiping her face on her sleeve. Roberta picked up the spoon, beat it in her food, and crowed. Then, filled with glee at what she had done, she threw the spoon on the floor. Why bother with it when she had hands? She patted her food and rubbed her hair.
    â€œMother!” cried Ramona. “Roberta’s making a mess.”
    â€œCope, dear. I’m busy,” answered Mrs. Quimby from the hall. “Just do the best you can.”
    â€œE-e-e!” squealed Roberta as she threw her cup on the floor. Before Ramona could unfurl a banner of paper towels to wipe Roberta’s face, her hair, her high chair, everything, Roberta tried to pick up her dish, which was held fast by the suction cup. She scowled, picked up a handful of food instead, and let it plop out of her hand onto the floor. This pleased her so much she squealed again.

    â€œRoberta! Naughty girl!” cried Ramona, wiping peas off her own face. She never wanted to smell peas again. Roberta looked as if her feelings were hurt.
    This time Mrs. Quimby said, “Sorry, Sally. I hear a damsel in distress.” And ended her book club conversation. When she saw the mess in the kitchen, she sighed, reached for a sponge, and said, “Well, this really has been one of those days.”
    Ramona tried to scrub peas out of Roberta’s hair with a paper towel. She no longer felt like a big sister. She felt like a cross sister, even if Roberta was just a baby. Roberta smiled a peas-and-cottage-cheese-smeared smile.
    â€œDon’t worry about it, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby. She sounded tired. “Messes are a part of being a mother. A big part, now that I think about it. What was it you started to tell me before the telephone rang?”
    Ramona hesitated. Somehow her news no longer seemed important. “Oh, nothing much,” she said as Mr. Quimby and Beezus came dripping through the back door. “Only that a photographer is coming to take our school pictures tomorrow, and Mrs. Meacham says we are going to have a valentine box in our room.”
    â€œGood,” said Mrs. Quimby. “Grandpa Day and Aunt Bea always like to have your picture.”
    â€œRemember to say cheese,” said Mr. Quimby as he stepped over peas and cottage cheese.
    â€œPhotographers always tell you to say that,” said Beezus, the experienced older sister. She pulled off her raincoat and dropped it on a chair before she picked up Roberta’s cup from the floor.
    Mr. Quimby did not bother to take off his raincoat. He dampened a towel and began to wipe Roberta’s hands and face. “I see that Third Daughter has a mind of her own,” he remarked.
    â€œE-e-e,” squealed Roberta, happy to have her family waiting on her. That was the advantage of being a baby sister.
    Feeling somewhat dejected because she had not been able to feed Roberta neatly, Ramona went off to her room to see what she could find to wear for her class picture.
    The next morning Ramona put on a red plaid jumper and a white blouse with a ruffle around the collar. The shoulders and armholes were a little tight, but she loved the twirly pleated skirt, even if it had once belonged to Beezus. Under the skirt she wore a pair of play shorts so no boy could see her underpants if she happened to bend over. She brushed the back of her hair, although it wouldn’t show in the picture.
    â€œIsn’t your dress a little too—” began Mrs. Quimby as Ramona picked up her lunch bag. She must have changed her mind because she finished with “You look very nice today, dear.”
    â€œDon’t choke in that blouse,” said Beezus. “It looks awfully tight.”
    Ramona ignored her sister and walked off to the bus stop feeling neat, clean, and beautiful. The rain had stopped, and even though the day was cold, she left her raincoat unfastened because, like Beezus, she wanted to arrive unwrinkled. She walked instead of skipped so her hair would stay