Beatrice’s little sister. Teachers always like Beezus; she was so prompt and neat. When

both girls had gone to Glenwood School,

Ramona often felt as if teachers were thinking, I wonder why Ramona Quimby isn’t

more like her big sister.

When Ramona reached the bus stop, she

found Howie Kemp already waiting with

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his grandmother and Willa Jean, who had

come to wave good-by.

Howie looked up from his lunch box,

which he had opened to see what he was

going to have for lunch, and said to Ramona,

“Those new sandals make your feet look

awfully big.”

“Why, Howie,” said his grandmother,

“that’s not a nice thing to say.”

Ramona studied her feet. Howie was right,

but why shouldn’t her new sandals make her feet look big? Her feet had grown since her last pair. She was not offended.

“Today I’m going to kidnergarten,” boasted Willa Jean, who was wearing new coveralls

and T-shirt and a pair of her mother’s old earrings. Willa Jean was convinced she was beautiful, because her grandmother said so.

Ramona’s mother said Mrs. Kemp was right.

Willa Jean was beautiful when she was clean, because she was a healthy child. Willa Jean did not feel she was beautiful like a healthy child. She felt she was beautiful like a grown-up lady on TV.

Ramona tried to act kindly toward little

Willa Jean. After all, her family was depending on her. “Not kidnergarten, Willa Jean,”

she said. “You mean nursery school.”

Willa Jean gave Ramona a cross, stubborn

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look that Ramona knew too well.“I am too going to kid nergarten,” she said. “Kid nergarten is where the kids are.”

“Bless her little heart,” said her grand-

mother, admiring as always.

The bus, the little yellow school bus

Ramona had waited all summer to ride,

pulled up at the curb. Ramona and Howie

climbed aboard as if they were used to getting on buses by themselves. I did it just like a grown-up, thought Ramona.

“Good morning. I am Mrs. Hanna, your

bus aide,” said a woman sitting behind the driver.“Take the first empty seats toward the back.” Ramona and Howie took window

seats on opposite sides of the bus, which had a reassuring new smell. Ramona always

dreaded the people-and-fumes smell of the

big city buses.

“By-byee,” called Mrs. Kemp and Willa

Jean, waving as if Ramona and Howie were

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going on a long, long journey. “By-byee.”

Howie pretended not to know them.

As soon as the bus pulled away from the

curb, Ramona felt someone kick the back of her seat. She turned and faced a sturdy boy wearing a baseball cap with the visor turned up and a white T-shirt with a long word

printed across the front. She studied the

word to see if she could find short words in it, as she had learned to do in second grade.

Earth. Quakes. Earthquakes. Some kind of team.Yes, he looked like the sort of boy whose father would take him to ball games. He did not have a lunch box, which meant he was