Henry and the Paper Route (9 page)

When the girls were far enough away so that he would not have to speak to Murph, Henry rode up to Beezus. “Hi,” he said,
above Ramona's howls. “Need any help?”

“I don't know what would do any good,” said Beezus, and Ramona stopped howling to listen. “Ramona insists she is going to deliver papers.”

“I'm a paperboy,” said Ramona. “I have to deliver papers.”

“You keep quiet,” snapped Beezus.

“She sure gave old Murph a bad time,” said Henry, trying not to show how entertained he had been.

Beezus sighed. “You know how Ramona is when she gets to pretending.”

“I know,” answered Henry, remembering the trouble he had had with Ramona during the paper drive, when she pretended she was a monkey. Oh, well, thought Henry, Murph will figure out a way to handle Ramona. Murph could do anything. That was the handy thing about being a genius.

The days that followed were difficult ones for Henry. He played with Nosy,
brushed Ribsy, went swimming at the Y.—all the things he usually did—but something was wrong. Somehow he could not get interested in anything. If he were smart like Murph, he could invent a robot of his own to keep him busy, but the trouble was, he was not smart like Murph.

Then one afternoon when Henry was putting his bicycle in the garage, he was surprised to see Murph, with the empty
Journal
bag over his shoulders, riding up the driveway toward him. Now what can he want? Henry wondered, and cautiously decided to let Murph have the first word.

Murph came to the point at once. “You can have the route,” he said.

Henry was too surprised to speak.

Murph looked extremely uncomfortable. “I said you can have the route,” he repeated.

“You mean you don't want it?” Henry asked incredulously.

“Nope,” said Murph, as Tiger caught up
with him and collapsed on the driveway, panting.

“How come?” asked Henry, finding it hard to believe that a boy who had a paper route would be willing to give it up.

“Ramona,” answered Murph.

“Ramona!” exclaimed Henry in disbelief. “She's just a little kid!” A genius licked by a four-year-old! If he hadn't been so surprised, Henry would have laughed out loud.

“I know,” said Murph miserably, “but she sure can make a lot of trouble.”

To keep from answering, Henry pretended to find something wrong with the chain on his bicycle. He wanted the route, all right. He had wanted it for weeks, and no matter how much trouble Ramona caused Murph, Henry did not intend to let any four-year-old girl stand in his way. It was not the thought of Ramona that kept him from answering. It was Mr. Capper. Henry was
not sure the district manager would let him have the route.

Murph must have guessed what Henry was thinking, because he looked down at the driveway and said, “It's all right with Mr. Capper.” Murph hesitated before he went on. “I asked him, and he said he would be glad to have you take the route.”

The route is mine, thought Henry in a daze. Mr. Capper said so.

Murph looked thoroughly miserable as he continued. “I guess I shouldn't have taken the route when I knew you wanted it, but I just had to have it. Dad said my other route was too far away from home. I needed money to buy parts for Thorvo. Dad thinks Thorvo is a waste of time, so I have to earn the money for parts myself and…well, I just had to have the route. But I've been having so much trouble I probably would have lost the route, and anyway, I don't want
it. It takes all my time trying to straighten things out, and I don't have any time left to work on Thorvo….” Murph's voice trailed away, and he looked unhappily at Henry through his glasses.

Henry found himself feeling sorry for Murph, whether he wanted to or not. It must be hard to have a father who thought building a robot was a waste of time, and to have to wear glasses, and not to be a good ballplayer. Why, Murph didn't even have a good dog like Ribsy. He only had tired old Tiger. And then Henry realized the importance of what Murph had said. The route was really his. “Sure, Murph,” he managed to say at last. “I'll take the route.”

“Swell.” Murph was visibly relieved. He removed the
Journal
bag, pulled the route book out of his hip pocket, and handed both to Henry. Then he began to speak eagerly, as if he wanted to make up for what he had
done. “I'll have to put Thorvo away for a while until I figure out how to earn some money for parts, and if you still want to go ahead with that private telephone I have most of the stuff we would need. And we wouldn't even have to go to the library to find out how to do it, because I already know how to build one.”

“You do!” exclaimed Henry. “Hey, that's swell!” A genius was going to be a pretty good person to have around the neighborhood after all.

“Maybe we can get started Saturday,” said Murph, as he started to leave. “You'll be pretty busy with the route after school.”

“That's right. My route will take up a lot of my time,” agreed Henry. “So long. See you Saturday.” Stunned by his sudden good fortune, Henry continued to stand on the driveway in a daze. He had a paper route, and all because of Ramona, but somehow
he could not quite believe it. In spite of the bag and the route book in his hands, his good luck did not seem real.

The next day at school, in order to convince himself that his route was real, Henry mentioned it every time he got a chance. When school was finally out, he went straight to Mr. Capper's garage, where he enjoyed being one of the gang at last. Even more, he enjoyed starting out with the heavy bag of papers over his shoulders. The route was real, all right.

Henry had not gone far, however, when he saw something that made him pause. Ramona was sitting on the curb, with her feet in the gutter and her hands folded in her lap. She was no longer wearing the sunglasses, and Beezus was nowhere in sight. “Hello there, Ramona,” said Henry. In a roundabout way he had her to thank for the route.

“Hello, Henry,” said Ramona demurely.

I don't see what Murph was so bothered about, Henry told himself, and went on delivering papers. Ramona continued to sit on the curb like a good girl. She just wants to watch, thought Henry, feeling grown-up and businesslike. Since she wasn't wearing her sunglass frames, she had probably forgotten all about pretending she was a paperboy. He grinned at the thought of Murph's being intimidated by a little girl who sat on the curb with her hands folded in her lap.

Cheerfully Henry rode into the next street, but as he tossed papers he began to have an uneasy feeling that something was wrong. Ramona had been too good. It was not natural. She must be up to something.

Just to be on the safe side, Henry circled the block so that he was riding up Ramona's street once more. And there was Ramona skipping along the sidewalk, with her arms
full of the papers he had just delivered. She was tossing them wherever she felt like letting them fall.

That Ramona! I might have known, Henry told himself. “Hey, cut that out!” he yelled furiously.

Ramona tossed a paper onto a lawn—the wrong lawn. Henry took off after her. When he reached her he let his bicycle fall to the sidewalk while he grabbed at the papers Ramona was clutching. “You give me those,” Henry said fiercely.

“No!” screamed Ramona. “I'm going to deliver them!”

Henry knew what was going to happen next. He had seen it all before, only the first time he had thought it funny. Where was Beezus, anyway? She might know what to do. Henry jerked the papers away from Ramona, who threw herself on the sidewalk exactly as he had expected. This is where I
came in, thought Henry grimly.

Ramona shrieked and grabbed his ankle with both hands. Henry tried to shake her loose, but she hung on.

“Beezus!” Henry yelled. “Beezus, come here!” Faces began to appear at the windows, and Henry felt extremely foolish and not at all businesslike to be standing there yelling for a girl to come and help him. Ribsy, who had been left at home so that he would not get into fights with dogs along the route, came running down the street at the sound of Henry's voice.

Beezus ran out of her house. “Ramona Geraldine Quimby!” She sounded completely exasperated. “You're supposed to be in the house. You know Mother said you had to stay in your room.”

Ribsy barked furiously.

“I'm a paperboy,” said Ramona stubbornly.

“Get her off my ankle, will you?” said Henry. Tackled by a four-year-old, with the whole neighborhood watching! Henry felt a flash of sympathy for Murph.

Ribsy grabbed Ramona's coveralls in his teeth. There was a sound of tearing cloth. Ramona screamed.

“Ribsy, cut that out!” Henry ordered. Now people would probably think Ribsy
was a ferocious dog attacking Ramona, and there was no telling what trouble that could lead to.

Beezus pried Ramona's fingers from Henry's ankle and started dragging her sister toward home.

“Quiet, Ribsy!” Henry said to his barking dog. “It's all right, fellow. She wasn't really hurting me.”

“I'm sorry, Henry,” Beezus apologized above her sister's howls. “I don't know what we can do. (Ramona, be
quiet
!) Mother says she has to stay in her room until the papers are delivered, but if she doesn't get out one day, she gets out the next.”

“We've got to do something,” said Henry desperately. “I can't have people phoning complaints about not getting their papers all the time. I'll lose my route. Can't you think of something?”

“I've tried,” answered Beezus. “The trouble is, when Ramona knows we don't want
her to do something, that just makes her want to do it all the more. Mother says she is just plain contrary.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Henry gloomily as he looked at Ramona, who had stopped screaming and was listening with interest. Suddenly the sight of Ramona looking so pleased to be the center of attention made Henry angry. Who did she think she was, anyway? She wasn't so important. She was just a girl who went to nursery school and played in a sandpile; that was all. She wasn't going to get him into trouble. He was eleven years old and she was only four. If he couldn't figure out a way to keep her from bothering him, he wasn't very smart. Maybe he wasn't a genius, but he was still smarter than a four-year-old. If she continued her game, and of course she would unless he did something about it, he would get into as much trouble as Murph had. And Henry
had no intention of going to Mr. Capper the first thing and saying he couldn't deliver the papers because of a girl who went to nursery school. No, sir!

Henry glared at Ramona and thought hard. The thing to do was to outwit her. But how? He had done it once when she had pretended she was a monkey and he would have to do it again. He could get some old papers and fold them and let her deliver them. No, that wouldn't work. People would pick them up and think he had delivered old papers. Somehow, he had to keep her from pretending she was a paperboy. He could…What
could
he do? And all at once Henry had an inspiration. If only he had enough time….

Henry looked at his watch. The papers did not have to be delivered until six o'clock. That would give him just about half an hour to see if his idea would work before
he finished his route. All he needed was a box, some wire, a pair of scissors, and some red paint—no, his mother's lipstick would be quicker—and a few other things.

“Beezus, you hang on to Ramona,” he directed. “I'll be back in half an hour. No matter what happens, don't let her get away.”

Ramona looked fascinated. She could hardly wait to see what was going to happen.

“Henry, what are you going to do?” Beezus called after him.

“You'll see,” answered Henry mysteriously. “Come on, Ribsy!”

Henry rode home as fast as he could, and when he got there he worked fast. He had to, if he was going to finish his idea in time to deliver his papers. Scraps of cardboard and bits of Scotch tape fell to the floor, but Henry did not bother to pick them up. There wasn't time. At last, and not a
moment too soon, his creation was finished.

Henry's creation consisted of a cardboard hatbox with a wire coat hanger fastened upside down to the top. In one side of the box he had cut holes for eyes and a mouth. These he had outlined with lipstick, because Ramona said she liked red eyes. Henry set the hatbox over his head and looked into the mirror. Not bad, he thought, not bad at all. Really gruesome. Of course it was pretty crude, but a girl who could pretend that a jumping rope was a monkey's tail would not be too particular.

“Goodness, Henry!” exclaimed Mrs. Huggins, as Henry dashed through the living room. “You scared me!”

Henry did not stop to talk. He rode as fast as he could to the Quimbys' house, where Beezus and Ramona were waiting on the front steps.

“Henry!” exclaimed Beezus, when she saw his cardboard head. “Are you getting
ready for Halloween?”

“Nope,” said Henry, as he lifted off his head and held it out to Ramona. “How would you like to be a mechanical man like Thorvo?” he asked, and held his breath as he waited to see if Ramona liked his suggestion.