Ramona and Her Mother by Beverly Cleary Read Free Book Online Page A

admit her father made excellent pancakes. Unfortunately, she was no longer very hungry. She felt all churned up inside, as if she didn’t know whether to cry or to burst out of the house shouting, My mother and father had a fight!
    â€œPlease pass the butter.” Mrs. Quimby might have been speaking to a stranger.
    â€œMay I please have the syrup?” Mr. Quimby asked politely.
    â€œThe funniest thing happened at school,” said Beezus, and Ramona understood that her sister was anxious to start a conversation that would smooth things over and make their parents forget their quarrel, perhaps make them laugh.

    After a moment of silence Mrs. Quimby said, “Tell me.”
    â€œYou’ll never guess how a boy spelled relief in a spelling test,” said Beezus.
    â€œHow?” asked Ramona to help the conversation along. Mr. Quimby silently served himself two more hot cakes.
    â€œHe spelled it r-o-l-a-i-d-s ,” said Beezus, looking anxiously at her parents, who actually smiled.
    Ramona did not smile. “But the man on television spells relief that way. He said r-o-l-a-i-d-s spells relief . I’ve heard him.”
    â€œSilly,” said Beezus, but this time she spoke with affection. “That’s just a slogan. Relief is r-e-l-i-e-f .”
    â€œOh.” Ramona was glad to know. Tabletalk sank back into silence while Ramona thought about spelling. Spelling was full of traps—blends and silent letters and letters that sounded one way in one word and a different way in another—and having a man stand there on television fooling children was no help. She was glad she had a big sister who understood those things.
    The evening was quiet. Mr. Quimby dozed in front of the television set. Mrs. Quimby took a shower and went to bed to read. Beezus did her homework in her room. Ramona tried to draw a monster eating a mouthful of people, but she could not make the picture on paper match the one in her imagination. Her monster looked as if he were eating paper dolls instead of real people. The house was unnaturally quiet. The television droned on. Both girls went to bed without being told.
    Unhappy thoughts kept Ramona awake. What if her mother and father did not love one another anymore? What if they decided to get a divorce like her friend Davy’s parents? What would happen to her? Who would take care of her? Beezus was closer to being a grown-up, but what about Ramona? She wanted to cry but could not. She felt too tight inside to cry. Tears teetered on her eyelashes but would not give her the relief of falling.
    Finally Ramona could stand her fear and loneliness no longer. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed into her sister’s room.
    â€œRamona?” Beezus too was awake.
    â€œI can’t go to sleep,” whispered Ramona.
    â€œNeither can I,” said Beezus. “Come on, get in bed with me.”
    This invitation was what Ramona had been hoping for. Gratefully she slipped beneath the covers and snuggled against her sister. “Do you think they’ll get a divorce?” she whispered. “They won’t talk to each other.”
    â€œOf course not,” said Beezus. “At least I don’t think so.”
    â€œWho would take care of me if they did?” Ramona felt she had to have the answer from someone. “I’m still little.” Beezus, of course, was her mother’s girl, but what about Ramona?
    Beezus seemed to be considering the question. “I’ll try,” she said at last.
    â€œYou aren’t grown up enough,” said Ramona, nevertheless comforted. Beezus cared.
    â€œI know,” admitted Beezus. “I read a book about a girl who took care of her brothers and sisters when their father died, but that was off in the mountains someplace where they all picked herbs and things. It wouldn’t work in the city.”
    â€œMother and Daddy won’t be dead.” Ramona was consoled by this knowledge.
    Beezus