Ramona Forever Read Online Free Page A

with a thump. A damp, dribbly baby, another Quimby. “Why would Mother do a thinglike that when she already has us?”
    â€œDon’t ask me ,” said Beezus, “but I’m pretty sure she is.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Ramona, hoping her sister was wrong.
    â€œWell, you remember how Aunt Bea is always asking Mother how she is feeling, as if she had a special reason for asking?”
    Looking back, Ramona realized Beezus was right.
    â€œAnd Mother doesn’t eat dessert anymore,” continued Beezus, “so she won’t gain too much weight.”
    â€œMaybe she just doesn’t want to get fat.” Ramona was doubtful about this. Her mother had always been slender, never worrying about her weight like most mothers.
    â€œAnd twice, back around Thanksgiving, Mother threw up after breakfast.” Beezus added another reason.
    â€œThat’s nothing,” scoffed Ramona. “I’vethrown up lots of times, and mince pie always makes me want to urp.”
    â€œBut ladies who are going to have babies sometimes throw up in the morning,” explained Beezus.
    â€œThey do?” This was news to Ramona. Beezus might be right. She was interested in such things. “Why don’t we go ask Mother?”
    â€œWhen she wants us to know, she will tell us. And of course, I might be wrong….” Doubt crept into Beezus’s voice before she said, “Oh, I hope I’m right. I love babies. I’d love to help take care of one of our own. I just know it would be darling.”
    Ramona sat on the bed thinking while Beezus opened her books. A little brother or sister? She did not like the idea, not one bit. If she had a little brother or sister, grown-ups would say in their knowing way, as if children could not understand, Somebody’s nose is out of joint. Ramona had heard themsay it many times about children who had new babies in the family. This was their way of talking about children behind their backs in front of them.
    â€œBut if it’s true, I sure hope Daddy finds a teaching job fast,” said Beezus. “Now go away. I have to study.”
    Ramona wandered into the living room, where her mother was lying on the couch watching the evening news on TV with the sound turned low so it would not disturb her husband, who was studying at the dining room table. Ramona knew she was not supposed to interrupt when he was studying, but this time she decided he wasn’t really working, just doodling on a piece of scratch paper with a worried look on his face. She slipped her head up between his ribs and arm.
    â€œHi,” said her father, as if Ramona had brought his thoughts back to the dining room.

    â€œHi,” answered Ramona as her father quickly turned over his page of doodles, but not before she had a glimpse of dollar signs and babies, doodles that must mean he was thinking about a baby.
    â€œYou have me to be your little girl,”Ramona reminded her father.
    Her father rubbed his chin against the top of Ramona’s head. “That’s right, and I’m mighty glad I do.”
    â€œThen you wouldn’t want another little girl, would you?” Ramona had to find out.
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” said Mr. Quimby. “I like little girls.”

3
Being Good
    O n Monday, Howie looked troubled when Ramona hopped off the school bus and turned toward her house instead of his. “Well—so long, Ramona,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
    â€œHave fun with your uncle,” said Ramona, and walked down Klickitat Street to the Quimby house, where she found the hidden key, let herself in the back door, washed herhands, ate an apple, put the core in the garbage, changed from school clothes into old jeans and a T-shirt, and sat down on the couch to read. She felt grown up and very, very good. How peaceful the Quimby house was compared to the Kemp house, where the television set was always tuned to soap operas and