the night. She looked inside her closet to

make sure Something was not hiding in the

shadows before she slid the doors shut tight.

She pushed her bed out from the wall so

that Something reaching out from under the

curtains or slithering around the wall might not find her. She picked up Pandy, her bat-tered old panda bear, and tucked it into bed with its head on her pillow. Then she

climbed into bed beside Pandy and pulled

the blankets up under her chin.

In a moment Mrs. Quimby came to say

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good-night. “Why do you always push your bed out from the wall?” she asked and pushed it back.

“What do we do tomorrow?” asked

Ramona, ashamed to admit she was afraid of

the dark, ashamed to let her mother know

she was no longer her brave girl, ashamed to confess she was afraid to sleep alone in the room she had wanted so much. If she told

her mother how she felt, she would proba-

bly be given the old room, which would be

the same as saying she was failing at the job of growing up.

“We are doing the usual,” answered Mrs.

Quimby. “School for you and Beezus, work

for Daddy and me.”

Ramona hoped to hold her mother a little

longer. “Mama, why doesn’t Picky-picky

like me?”

“Because he has grown grouchy in his

old age and because you were rough with

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him when you were little. Now go to sleep.”

Mrs. Quimby kissed Ramona and snapped

off the light.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Ramona?”

“I—I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Good night, dear.”

“Mama, kiss Pandy too.”

Mrs. Quimby did as she was told. “Now

that’s enough stalling.”

Ramona was left alone in the dark. She

said her prayers and then repeated them in

case God was not listening the first time.

I will think good things, Ramona told

herself, and in spite of her troubles she had good things to think about. After Ramona

had to apologize to Susan, some members

of Room One were especially nice to her

because they felt Mrs. Griggs should not

have made her apologize in front of the

class. Howie had brought some of his bricks

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back, so they could play Brick Factory if it ever stopped raining. Linda, whose mother

baked fancier cookies than any other Room

One mother, shared butterscotch-fudge-nut

cookies with Ramona. Even little Davy,

who usually tried to avoid Ramona because

she had tried to kiss him in kindergarten,

tagged her when the class played games. Best of all, Ramona was actually learning to read.

Words leaped out at her from the news-

papers, signs, and cartons. Crash, highway, salt, tires. The world was suddenly full of words that Ramona could read.

Ramona had run out of good thoughts.

She heard Beezus take her bath, get into bed, and turn out her light. She heard her mother set the table for breakfast, shut Picky-picky in the basement, and go to bed. If only her