Ramona Quimby 01 - Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary

Author:Beverly Cleary [Cleary, Beverly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061684906
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1955-12-21T22:43:44+00:00

Ramona was sitting on the floor beside a box of apples. Lying around her on the cement floor were a number of apples—each with one bite out of it. While Beezus stared, Ramona reached into the box, selected an apple, took one big bite out of the reddest part, and tossed the rest of the apple onto the floor. While she noisily chewed that bite, she reached into the apple box again.

“Ramona!” cried Beezus, horrified. “You can’t do that.”

“I can, too,” said Ramona through her mouthful.

“Stop it,” ordered Beezus. “Stop it this instant! You can’t eat one bite and then throw the rest away.”

“But the first bite tastes best,” explained Ramona reasonably, as she reached into the box again.

Beezus had to admit that Ramona was right. The first bite of an apple always did taste best. Ramona’s sharp little teeth were about to sink into another apple when Beezus snatched it from her.

“That’s my apple,” screamed Ramona.

“It is not!” said Beezus angrily, stamping her foot. “One apple is all you’re supposed to have. Just wait till Mother finds out!” Ramona stopped screaming and watched Beezus.Then, seeing how angry Beezus was, she smiled and offered her an apple. “I want to share the apples,” she said sweetly.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Beezus. “And don’t try to work that sharing business on me!” That was one of the difficult things about Ramona. When she had done something wrong, she often tried to get out of it by offering to share something. She heard a lot about sharing at nursery school.

Now what am I going to do, Beezus wondered. I promised Mother I would keep an eye on Ramona, and look what she’s gone and done. How am I going to explain this to Mother? I’ll get scolded too. And all the apples.What can we do with them?

Beezus was sure about one thing. She no longer felt mixed up about Ramona.

Ramona was perfectly impossible. She snatched Ramona’s hand.“You come upstairs with me and be good until Mother gets back,” she ordered, pulling her sister up the basement stairs.

Ramona broke away from her and ran into the living room. She climbed onto a chair, where she sat with her legs sticking straight out in front of her. She folded her hands in her lap and said in a little voice, “Don’t bother me. This is my quiet time. I’m supposed to be resting.”

Quiet times were something else Ramona had learned about at nursery school. When she didn’t want to do something, she often insisted she was supposed to be having a quiet time.

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