Ramona and Her Father

most beautiful, magic time of the whole year. Her parents loved her, and she loved them,

Ramona felt sad and somehow lonely, as if she were left out of something important, because her family was in trouble and there was nothing she could do.

A shivery feeling ran down Ramona’s backbone, as if magic were taking place.

Didn’t grown-ups think children worried about anything but jack-o’-lanterns? Didn’t they know children worried about grown-ups?

Say, who is this Mr. King?” “What Mr. King?” asked Ramona, walking into his trap. “Nosmo King,

No family is perfect. Get that idea out of your head. And nobody is perfect either. All we can do is work at it. And we do.

She felt good from making a lot of noise, she felt good from the hard work from walking so far in her tin can stilts, she felt good from calling a grown-up pieface and from the triumph of singing backwards from ninety-nine to one. She felt good from being out after dark with the rain on her face and the streetlights shining down on her.

Maybe her father was angry with her. Maybe he had gone away because she tried to make him stop smoking. She thought she was saving his life, but maybe she was being mean to him. Her mother said she must not annoy her father, because he was worried about being out of work. Maybe she had made him so angry he did not love her anymore. Maybe he had gone away because he did not love her. She thought of all the scary things she had seen on television-houses that had fallen down in earthquakes, people shooting people, big hairy men on motorcycles -and she knew she needed her father to keep her safe.

I remember when Ramona named one of her dolls Chevrolet after the car.” Everyone laughed.

Don’t eat so noisily. My grandmother used to say, ‘A smack at the table is worth a smack on the bottom.

Having a sister who tried to act like the Virgin Mary was not easy for a girl who felt as Ramona did.

Clank, crash, clank. Ramona forgot about her father being out of a job, she forgot how cross he had been since he gave up smoking, she forgot about her mother coming home tired from work and about Beezus being grouchy lately. She was filled with joy.

My, Juanita, you’re getting to be a big girl. How old are you? I can’t keep track.

What shall we draw?” she asked.

Ramona and her father

Look what we get to herd,

She’s made me lots of costumes.” Maybe “lots” was stretching the truth a bit.

She was happier than she had been in a long time.

RAMONA AND THE MILLION DOLLARS