Ramona pretended she was riding a stagecoach pursued by robbers until she discovered her eraser, her beautiful pink eraser was missing. “Did you see my eraser?” she asked a second-grade girl, who had taken the seat beside her. The two searched the seat and the floor. No eraser.
Ramona felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. “Was it a pink eraser?” asked the boy in the baseball cap.
“Yes.” Ramona was ready to forgive him for kicking her seat. “Have you seen it?”
“Nope.” The boy grinned as he jerked down the visor of his baseball cap. That grin was too much for Ramona. “Liar! She said with her most ferocious glare, and faced front once more, angry at the loss of her new eraser, angry at herself for dropping it so the boy could find it. Purple cootie, she thought, and hoped the cafeteria would serve him fish portions and those canned green beans with the strings left on. And apple wedges, the soft mushy kind with tough skins, for dessert.
Page 18 Ramona Quimby, Age 8 by Beverly Cleary
Pink Pearl print by Jordan Crane