Balboa High School - Zonian Yearbook (Balboa, Canal Zone Panama)

Page 64 text:

, 1 i THE ZONIAN II F rid ay Afternoon Laughing and chattering, we clamber into the bus quickly this afternoon. 0ur arms + are burdened with books that will not be opened until Monday. Thus do good intentions bloom and fade. Oi, oi, oil Two whole dayslu rejoices Mary, tossing her books and her self onto a seat. Almost too good to be true. And say: we have two new boys on the Post nowf, Ellen reminds her friends. 1 Then let's have a party at my house tomorrow night, Dick suggests. . Okel We'll be down right after the Hrst show, Betty assents. Yes, there's a good picture on that I want to see, remembers Leah. ' r 1 I saw it in the States. It's keenln Tom tells us. Are you going to the horse-show in the morning, lVlary? Ellen wants to know. Of course I am. I'm in it! ll 5 I'd forgotten all about that. How about a nice spill for our benefit? Indeed notl You can take your own spillsln l , I suppose I ought to study this week-end, Harry breaks in. Some of you others ought to, too. L I , You would think of schoollu somebody bursts out. At a time like thisl Well, I, for one, don't intend to crack a book. Who's with me? A chorus of voices shatters the atmosphere. Let's start in properly, then, by celebrating at the post exlu suggests Betty. Hood is the first one out. Whoopeel he shouts. Here goes my allowancelu 1 1 . , . N l 1 1 fb Modellei by Lillian Wine l l Q , 1 52 , if I l

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f gt l is 1 Q 1 E? 3 1 2:9 -- 5 9. Q R 'fl 'i 'ff1'i?'QQ-'ff..ii35?figQ 1 ' ljgf. .. - -. :-:'f.a-- Q, iestions they s dramatics 'cle and the Circle is for rector. VVe +lains all the gns are for. t we fail to sults and let iam Greene, ng strangely fted none of 'hat is rarer 1 -.,--- li- o ... - - - M THE ZONIAN SCHGOL BUS By VIRGINIA FOSTER I Monday Morning Discouragement is written on every face. Mary, for instance, looks guiltily at her Latin, sighs, then rests her head on Mae's shoulder, hoping to get ten minutes more of sleep. ' Have you done your Spanish? Betty asks Ralph. How do you get that way? drawls Ralph. She won't call on me today. If by chance she does, however-H H-just another case of too badln finishes Betty. Yeah? Alarmed, Betty opens her Spanish and desperately tries to figure out a translation. But presently the pages flutter as she raises her hand to hide a yawn. What's the use? I don't know a word of what l've read! Her eyes and book close at about the same time. Ellen looks at Leah, suggestively shifting her eyes to the dozing Mary. Leah nods, Wrinkles her nose, and begins tickling the slumbrous one. Oh, stop thatln This from Mary, angrily. You're always picking on me. l'm so sick of it alll Now isn't that too bad, you poor abused childlu Ellen offers irritatedly. lust what do you plan to do about it? Mary opens her lips to speak but, thinking better of it, contents herself with a chilling glance in her antagonist's direction. Then she puts her head back on Mae's shoulder. Mae, however, has different plans. ' No you don'tl l'm tired, too, and I don't intend to allow you to use me for a leaning- post! Mae abruptly jerks her shoulder from under Mary's head. Mary's temper rises as her head falls. What about that 'D' in Latin, Mary? Leah tactlessly inquires. Hadn't you better study once in a while? Oh shut upl It's none of your businesslu snaps Mary, breaking into tears. N ow she's off! exclaims Hood disgustedly. For goodness' sake, don't be such a babylu shouts Betty in her highly pitched voice. But the bus has stopped. HYou call this pickin' 'em up and puttin' 'em down, explains Dick as he alights. No one laughs. lt's no laughing matter to have to go to school on Monday morning. Hood is the last one out. He stands with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, staring upward at the school building. Sing-Singlu he spats.

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.. Our arms l intentions er self onto Post now, to know. you others nisl YVell, tty. allowance! Modelled by THE ZONIAN C ON TEN TMEN T A sandy shore- A sunny sky- A brisk but gentle breeze: I ask no moreg Content am I, Content with merely these. DESPAIR Irene Wachsberg By MARY MARGARET MC CORMACK Small boats adrift- Some face the west, And some, indifferent, face the east, Lonely souls, apart from all the rest. ' Have they, too, sought the ending of the misty bow, Never reaching, quite, the pot of gold? Have they, too, known the futile dreams l know? Their sails come tumbling from the sky-like mineg They wonder what the end will beg And of their memories they build--a shrine.