damp paper towels in her hands. She did not want to risk even the softest noise by throwing them into the wastebasket. Lunch period came to an end, and still she sat. Her body felt numb and so did her heart. She could never, never face Mrs.Whaley again. Never.

59

Mrs. Larson’s typewriter clicked cheerfully away. Ramona was forgotten, which was the

way she wanted it. She even wanted to forget herself and her horrible hair, now drying

into stiff spikes. She no longer felt like a real person.

The next voice Ramona heard was that

of Yard Ape. “Mrs. Larson,” he said, as if he had been running in the hall, “Mrs. Whaley said to tell you Ramona didn’t come back

after lunch.”

The typing stopped. “Oh, my goodness,”

said Mrs. Larson, as she appeared in the doorway.“Why, Ramona, are you still here?”

How was Ramona supposed to answer?

“Run along back to class with Danny,”

said the secretary.“I’m sorry I forgot all about you.”

“Do I have to?” asked Ramona.

“Of course,” said Mrs. Larson. “Your hair

is almost dry.You don’t want to miss class.”

60

Ramona did want to miss class. Forever.

The third grade was spoiled forever.

“Aw, come on, Ramona,” said Yard Ape,

for once not teasing.

Surprised by sympathy from Yard Ape,

Ramona reluctantly left the office. She

expected him to go on ahead of her, but

instead he walked beside her, as if they were friends instead of rivals. Ramona felt strange walking down the hall alone with a boy. As she trudged along beside him, she felt she had to tell someone the terrible news.“Mrs.

Whaley doesn’t like me,” she said in a flat voice.

“Don’t let old Whaley get you down,” he

answered. “She likes you OK.You’re a good

kid.”

Ramona was a little shocked at hearing

her teacher called “old Whaley.” However,

she squeezed comfort from Yard Ape’s opin-

ion. She began to like him, really like him.

61

When they reached their classroom,Yard Ape, perhaps thinking he had been too nice to Ramona, turned and said to her with his old grin, “Egghead!”

Oh! There was nothing for Ramona to do but follow him into the room. Sustained Silent Reading, or DEAR, as Mrs. Whaley

called it, was over, and the class was practicing writing cursive capital letters. Mrs. Whaley was describing capital M as she wrote it on the board. “Swoop down, swoop up, down,

up again, and down.” Ramona avoided look-

ing at her teacher as she got out paper and pencil and began to write the capital letters of the alphabet in careful, even script. She enjoyed the work, and it soothed her hurt

feelings until she came to the letter Q.

Ramona sat looking at the cursive capital

Q, the first letter of her last name. Ramona had always been fond of Q, the only letter of the alphabet with a neat little tail. She 62

enjoyed printing Q, but she did not like her written Q. She had made it right, but it looked like a big floppy 2, which Ramona