“Remember, you can’t do good work in

school if you don’t eat a good breakfast.”

Ramona paid scant attention to this little speech that she heard almost every morning.

Out of habit, she drank her milk and man-

aged most of her toast. In the garage the car stopped growling and started to throb.

Ramona had left the table and was brush-

ing her teeth when she heard her father call in through the back door to her mother,

“Dorothy, can you come and steer the car

while I push it into the street? I can’t get it to go into reverse.”

Ramona rinsed her mouth and rushed to

the front window in time to see her father put all his strength into pushing the now

silent car slowly down the driveway and into the street while her mother steered. At the 100

foot of the driveway, Mrs. Quimby started the motor and drove the car forward beside the curb.

“Now try it in reverse,” Mr. Quimby

directed.

In a moment Mrs. Quimby called out,“It

won’t go.”

Ramona put on her coat, picked up her

lunch box, and hurried out to see what happened when a car would go forward but not

backward. She soon discovered her parents

found nothing funny about this state of affairs.

“I’ll have to take it to the mechanic.” Mr.

Quimby looked cross.“And then take a bus,

which means missing my first class.”

“Let me take it, and you hurry and catch

a bus now,” said Mrs. Quimby.“The answer-

ing service can take the doctor’s messages a few minutes longer until I get to the office.”

Then, noticing Ramona standing on the

sidewalk, she said,“Run along or you’ll miss your bus,” and blew Ramona a kiss.

101

“What if you have to back up?” asked

Ramona.

“With luck I won’t have to,” her mother

answered. “Hurry along now.”

“So long, Ramona,” said Mr. Quimby.

Ramona could see that he was more con-

cerned with the car than with her. Perhaps this knowledge made her feet seem heavier

than usual as she plodded off to her bus stop.

The ride to school seemed longer than usual.

When Yard Ape said, “Hi, Egghead,” she did

not bother to answer, “Deviled Egghead to you,” as she had planned.

When school started, Ramona sat quietly

filling spaces in her workbook, trying to insert the right numbers into the right spaces but not much caring if she failed. Her head felt heavy, and her fingers did not want to move.

She thought of telling Mrs.Whaley that she did not feel good, but her teacher was busy writing a list of words on the blackboard and would probably think anyone who interrupted was a nuisance.

Ramona propped her head on her fist,

looking at twenty-six glass jars of blue oatmeal. Oh-h-h. She did not want to think about blue oatmeal or white oatmeal or any oatmeal at all. She sat motionless, hoping the terrible feeling would go away. She knew she should tell her teacher, but by now Ramona was