Ramona Quimby was nine years old. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and no cavities. She had a mother, a father, a big sister named Beatrice who was called Beezus by the family, and-this was the exciting part-a baby sister named Roberta after her father, Roberta Quimby. "Look at her tiny fingernails," Ramona marveled as she looked at the sleeping Roberta,"and her little eyebrows. She could spread news about her baby sister. That day finally came. It was a warm September day, and Romona, neat and, clean, with lunch bag in hand, half skipped, half hopped, scrunching, through, dry leaves on the sidewalk.
Texte: HarperFestival is an imprint of Harper Collins Publishers
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.11.2011
Alle Rechte vorbehalten
Widmung:
there no dedication