Beezus and Ramona - Beverly Cleary [15]
“Tiddlywinks, tiddlywinks, I want to play tiddlywinks,” chanted Ramona, shaking her head back and forth.
“Not after the way you spoiled our checker game,” said Beezus. “I wouldn’t play tiddlywinks with you for a million dollars.”
“Yes!” shouted Ramona.
“Children!” Mother put her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. “I’m trying to talk to your Aunt Beatrice.”
For a moment Beezus forgot her quarrel with Ramona. “Is she coming over today?” she asked eagerly.
“Not today.” Mother smiled at Beezus.
“But I’ll tell her you wish she’d come.”
“Tell her she hasn’t been here for two whole weeks,” said Beezus.
“Tiddlywinks, tiddlywinks,” chanted Ramona, more quietly this time. “We’re going to play tiddlywinks.”
“We are not!” whispered Beezus furiously. And as she looked at Ramona a terrible thought came to her. Right that very instant she was so exasperated with Ramona that she did not like her at all. Not one little bit. Crashing her tricycle into the checkerboard, throwing a tantrum, and shoving a dog into the bathroom—how could one four-year-old be such a pest all in one afternoon? And Ramona wasn’t one bit sorry about it, either. She was glad she had driven Henry home with her naughtiness. Just look at her, thought Beezus. Cookie crumbs sticking to the front of her overalls, her hands and face dirty, and those silly paper ears. She’s just awful, that’s what she is, perfectly awful—and she looks so cheerful. To look at her you wouldn’t know she’d done a thing. She’s spoiled my whole afternoon and she’s happy. She even thinks she’ll get me to play tiddlywinks with her. Well, I won’t. I won’t, because I don’t like her one little bit!
To get away from Ramona, Beezus stalked into the living room and threw herself into her father’s big chair. Not one little bit, she thought fiercely. But as Beezus sat listening to her mother chatting and laughing over the telephone, she began to feel uncomfortable. She ought to like Ramona. Sisters always liked each other. They were supposed to. Like Mother and Aunt Beatrice. But that was different, Beezus thought quickly. Aunt Beatrice wasn’t like Ramona. She was—well, she was Aunt Beatrice, loving and understanding and full of fun. Ramona was noisy and grubby and exasperating.
I feel so mixed up, thought Beezus. Sometimes I don’t like Ramona at all, and I’m supposed to like her because she’s my sister, and…Oh, dear, even if she’s little, can’t she ever be more like other people’s sisters?
4
Ramona and the Apples
“Mother, I’m home,” Beezus called, as she burst into the house one afternoon after school.
Mother appeared, wearing her hat and coat and carrying a shopping list in her hand. She kissed Beezus. “How was school today?” she asked.
“All right. We studied about Christopher Columbus,” said Beezus.
“Did you, dear?” said Mother absentmindedly. “I wonder if you’d mind keeping an eye on Ramona for half an hour or so while I do the marketing. She was up so late last night I let her have a long nap this afternoon, and I wasn’t able to go out until she woke up.”
“All right, I’ll look after her,” agreed Beezus.
“I told her she could have two marshmallows,” said Mother, as she left the house.
Ramona came out of the kitchen with a marshmallow in each hand. Her nose was covered with white powder. “What’s Christopher Colummus?” she asked.
“Christopher Columbus,” Beezus corrected. “Come here, Ramona. Let me wipe off your nose.”
“No,” said Ramona, backing away. “I just powdered it.” Closing her eyes, Ramona pounded one of the marshmallows against her nose. Powdered sugar flew all over her face. “These are my powder puffs,” she explained.
Beezus started to tell Ramona not to be silly, she’d get all sticky, but then decided it would be useless. Ramona never minded being sticky. Instead, she said, “Christopher Columbus is the man who discovered America. He was trying to prove that the world is round.”
“Is it?” Ramona sounded puzzled. She beat the other marshmallow against her chin.
“Why, Ramona, don’t you know the world is round?” Beezus asked.
Ramona shook