direct. “She said you refused to make an owl like the rest of the class and that for no reason you crumpled up the owl Susan worked so

hard to make.”

Beezus was standing in the hall. “Oh,

owls,” she said, remembering. “Next you

make Thanksgiving things.”

Tears filled Ramona’s eyes. Mrs. Griggs

was so unfair. Turkeys came next, and trou-

ble would start all over again.

“I was sorry to hear it, Ramona,” said Mrs.

Quimby.“What on earth got into you?”

Ramona’s stiff lips quivered. “She’s

wrong, Mama,” she managed to get out.

“Mama, she’s wrong.” Ramona struggled for

96

control. Now Mr. Quimby and Beezus were

listening shadows in the doorway. “Mama, I

did make an owl. A good owl.” Ramona

drew a long shuddering breath and

described what had happened: how Mrs.

Griggs had praised Susan’s owl and said she

hadn’t wasted paste, and how she had

thrown away her own owl because she did

not want people to think she had copied from Susan. “And so I scrunched her owl,”

she concluded, relieved to have told the

whole story.

“But what difference did it make?” asked

Mrs. Quimby.“The class was making owls for

fun. It wasn’t the same as copying arithmetic or spelling papers.”

“But it does make a difference.” Beezus

spoke with the wisdom of a higher grade.“It

makes a lot of difference.”

Ramona was grateful for this support. “I

wanted my owl to be my very own.”

“Of course, you did,” said Mr. Quimby,

who had once drawn cartoons for his high-

school paper.“Every artist wants his work to be his very own, but that does not excuse

you from trying to destroy Susan’s owl.”

Ramona let out a long shuddering sigh.

“I just got mad. Old copycat Susan thought

she was so big.”

98

Mrs. Quimby smoothed Ramona’s blankets. “Susan is the one I feel sorry for. You are the lucky one. You can think up your

own ideas because you have imagination.”

Ramona was silent while she thought

this over. “But that doesn’t help now,” she

said at last.

“Someday it will.” Mrs. Quimby rose from

the bed. “And Ramona, Mrs. Griggs expects

you to apologize to Susan for destroying her owl.”

“Mama!” cried Ramona. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, Ramona, you do.” Mrs. Quimby

leaned over and kissed Ramona good-night.

“But, Mama, it isn’t fair! Susan is a copy-

cat and a tattletale.”

Mrs. Quimby sighed again. “Maybe so,

but that does not give you the right to destroy her property.”

Mr. Quimby kissed Ramona good-

night.“Chin up, old girl,” he said.“It will all 99

come out in the wash.”

As her family left her room, Ramona

heard Beezus say, “Mrs. Griggs always was

big on apologies.”

Ramona lay in bed with her thoughts as

jumbled as a bag of jacks. Susan’s property

was just an old paper bag, and who cared

about an old paper bag. Susan cared, that’s

who cared. Ramona could not escape the

truth. Why was everything so mixed up?