Ramona's World

came. It was a warm September day, and Ramona, neat and clean, with lunch bag in hand, half skipped, half hopped, scrunching through dry leaves on the sidewalk. She was early, she knew, but Ramona was the sort of girl who was always early because something might happen that she didn’t want to miss. The fourth grade was going to be the best year of her life, so far.

Ramona was first to arrive at the bus stop in front of Mrs. Pitt’s house. Mrs. Pitt came out the front door and began sweeping her front steps.

“Hi, Mrs. Pitt,” Ramona called out. “Guess what! My baby sister is two months old.”

“Good for her,” said Mrs. Pitt, agreeable to a baby in the neighborhood. Babies did not scatter candy wrappers or old spelling papers on the lawn in front of her house.

Ramona pretended she was playing hopscotch until her friend Howie, who was already familiar with Roberta, joined her along with other children, some with their mothers, who were excited about