Read Online A Girl from Yamhill by Beverly Cleary - Free Book Online Page A

in the Sheaves” or “Yield Not to Temptation” any day.
    At first, reading was dull but easy. The stories, though they could scarcely be called that, were about Ruth, John (What was that h doing in John?), and Rover. I managed “See mamma,” “See kitty,” and “I have a kitty.” (Why were there two m ’s and two t ’s when one would do just as well?) Reading picked up after that, for gold stars were pasted on pages beginning “I have a doll,” “I have a ball,” and “Rover is my dog.”
    Then chicken pox kept me home from school for a week, perhaps longer, and ended my balletlessons as well. When I returned to school, I had fallen behind. I got no more gold stars.
    One day Miss Falb swooped down and whipped my hands with her frequently used weapon, a metal-tipped bamboo pointer. Probably this was for letting my mind wander, though I was not sure because I was so surprised. My hands burned, but I felt I must have been bad because at home I always knew any punishment was deserved. I tried to hide my tears of pain and humiliation and was too ashamed to tell my parents.
    Miss Falb made children sit on a stool facing the corner. Once I was ordered, without being told why, to the cloakroom, where I huddled, sniffling, among rubbers and lunch bags. For weeks after that, the smell of peanut butter sandwiches made my stomach curl. Once a plump and cheerful girl named Claudine was punished by being sentenced to crouch in the dark cave under Miss Falb’s desk with Miss Falb’s feet in their ugly black oxfords. When her sentence was reprieved, she emerged chastened but not much worried. Claudine, a city girl all her life, was braver in class than I.
    Soon every school day became a day of fear. When I needed to go to the toilet, I was afraid to ask to be excused because Miss Falb had scolded the class for asking to leave the room so often. Iwas also afraid to go alone down the steps to the girls’ lavatory in the dim basement. One day, inevitably, I wet my pants. Miss Falb sent for the janitor to mop up my puddle and ordered me home to change my clothes. I walked six blocks with my wet bloomers slish-slishing with every step. Mother put me in fresh clothes and sent me back to school, where I was sure the whole class would remember my disgrace all the rest of their lives.
    I began to beg to stay home from school.
    â€œI’m surprised at you, Beverly,” said Mother. “Show your spunk and remember your pioneer ancestors.”
    One day I enjoyed a treat. Donald, the boy who boarded next door, came down with chicken pox. Since I had already had chicken pox, I was sent to play with him. He was generous with his Tinkertoys, and even though he was older, he did not mind playing the Uncle Wiggily board game with me. I had a good time.
    However, it soon developed that Donald had, not chicken pox, but smallpox. I, too, came down with smallpox. Even a fever and itching scabs were better than a day in Miss Falb’s classroom.
    Drama surrounded smallpox. The health department nailed a red quarantine sign to the front of the house. The milkman left milk on the bottom step and fled. My father was not allowedto live at home. He packed a suitcase and moved overtown to stay with his sister Minnie, who owned a small apartment house where any member of the family in need of help was welcome. For a treat, he had Meier & Frank’s department store deliver delicious cookies topped with pink marshmallow cushions strewn with coconut. Mother read aloud The Princess and the Goblin , I ate those delicious cookies, and I did not have to go to school.
    Mother thought my scabs would never drop off. In time, of course, the last scab fell away, the red sign was removed, and Mother lit the required fumigation candles throughout the house before she closed it up and took me overtown to the health inspector at the City Hall, who pronounced me fit for school. I did not realize