Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

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THE SCREECH OWL 15 Oh, Sandy!” Her voice shook now. Well, that is, nearly. I passed everything. My papers came today. I report in ten days. Isn’t it grand, Char? I’ll be doing what I’ve always wanted to. I’ll learn to fly a plane!” He tried to squeeze it all in one breath. Char wasn’t looking at him now. Her eyes smarted as she spoke. I’m glad you got what you wanted. It’s great.” I wish you’d help me tell Mom and Dad,” he said earnestly. Of course I will, if you want me to, Sandy,” said Char. Together, holding hands, they went. They’d miss each other, the skating parties, the old swimming hole, and their picnics together. As they walked hand in hand, they weren’t just Char and Sandy, but the average boy and girl of their age, all faced with the same problem of waiting and dreaming of tomorrow. Veronica Nowick, ’48. ❖ The Skunk That Didn ' t Smell Samantha T. Skunk was a — skunk. She was a beautiful glossy black except where a broad, snow-white stripe ran from the tip of her nose down her back to the tip of her tail. Her hair was long and silky, her eyes shiny. But in spite of all this, Samantha was bitter against the world. Samantha didn’t smell! Ah! You don’t know what bitterness this lack of smell caused Samantha. Samantha was almost entirely friendless except for her mother. Being so lonely, she spent all her time trying to learn how to smell. Samantha had bottles of perfume that made her smell, but not the right way. Samantha ate a lot of onion and garlic that made her smell, but still not the right way. At last she gave up, said goodbye to her mother, and left home. For years Samantha lived by herself, experimenting, but she did not succeed. One day she was sitting alone in the woods. At last she became tired, so she got up and walked away. While Samantha was walking along, a strange odor was wafted on the breeze. She sniffed again, and at last the thought came to her — she smelled ! ! Joyously she retraced her steps till she came to the spot where she had been sitting. There, wilted and odoriferous, was a crushed skunk cabbage. Later, after many experiments, Samantha succeeded in concocting a liquid from the skunk cabbage which made her smell. Then happily she set off for home with a gallon jar of her private joy juice.” When she reached home she shouted to her mother, At last I smell!” and lived happiiy ever after. Barbara Parker, ’47. ❖ ❖ Fugitive He didn’t have to stand for that kind of treat- ment, and with a determined tug at his trousers, Melvin set forth doing something about it. By now he was a good two blocks away from home, and each step forward gave him a new sense of freedom, overshadowed, however, by a slight feeling of loneliness. He tugged at his trousers again. Dad certainly packed a lot of force into that punishment. He’d be sorry, and Mom would be, too; they’d see, he’d show them they couldn’t treat him like that! Twenty minutes passed and Melvin seemed in no haste. In fact he was only a block further, so deep were his thoughts. In the distance he heard the 4:30 train whistle, and realized with dismay that he was getting hungry. Then the flood of memories quickly overpowered those hunger pains. He thought with satisfaction, Won’t they be sorry when they see me starved to death.” He was near Billy’s house now. Billy had been his playmate when they had lived at West 42nd Street. Suddenly his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of sobbing. There was no one on the street; the sound floated out from the stairs leading down into the garbage alley. He stopped, put his hands in his pockets, and peered into the dimly lit alley. A little curious,

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14 THE SCREECH OWL Walking down the passage way, he e ntered an- other room. When he found himself in the magazine room where were stored the bombs and ammu- nition, he noticed a box of dynamite with long five-minute fuses in it. He placed it between the pile of bombs and after a hasty search found a match and lit the fuse. Then he scurried out of the room out onto the deck where his plane was waiting with its motor idling. They had been using it for scouting American held terri- tory so that the Americans would not suspect anything. Bob climbed into the plane, then two attendants saluted and pulled the chalks from under the wheels. As Bob eased the throttle the plane moved forward, gaining speed every foot. He pulled back on the stick and the fighter shot forward into space, head- ing for home. Looking below, he saw a huge flame leap skyward as the carrier exploded into pieces. Laughing with joy, he called headquarters on his radio and warned them of the coming dan- ger. When Bob landed at his base he gave the whole story to his C. O. What pleased him most was not the promise of a Navy Cross but the morning headlines Jap Task Force Sunk.” He knew then that the Jap captain had been wrong. It was Tokyo or Bust.” Anthony Mariani, ’45 ❖ ❖ ❖ Alone Two soft brown eyes, wistful, pleading, are asking over and over the question, why there is no hand to pat him this morning — no familiar voice to call him to a little rough and tumble game. The friendly armchair is now empty, a vacant place greets him. For him the sun has fled, the future holds no hopes or joys, the very sky has fallen. Little he knows or cares that the whole world bows its head in sorrow and weeps, for the world has tumbled down about this tiny crea- ture, as, sad and lonely, little Fala mourns his master. Ethel Salonen, ’ 46 . Eighteen Sandy Merrill jumped over the hedge and ran across the lawn, not noticing the flower he had crushed beneath his foot. He leaped over the porch railing, then, letting the screen door slam, was in the house. Sandy, who was all of eighteen, had just graduated from high school and was working in a downtown store. He was tall, yet it seems only the day before he had been a little boy. A trace of boyishness remained in his sparkling eyes. Sandy was always happy and full of pep. Today when he came home Mom felt he was almost too happy, as though something he had waited for had happened. She tried to get it out of him at supper, but apparently he didn’t want anyone to know. He had eaten a good meal, had asked for a second helping, so she ceased to worry and didn’t mention a word to Dad about it. But something did happen, something he had been waiting for. That night Sandy went to Char’s house. Char was the girl whcf had lived down the street. It was Char who had been his constant companion ever since they were knee high. It was Sandy who gave her her nickname, her real name being Charlotte. As he walked he recalled the fun they had had and the places they had been together. He chuckled when he recalled the time she cried when he broke her best doll, and then the time he caught the measles from her. Yes, she was the one he would tell first. As he reached her house, he almost ran. Char was tidying the porch and arranging a bouquet of garden flowers. She looked sweet in a crisp white pinafore, her hair loose over her shoulders and falling in natural curls. Hi, Char,” Sandy panted, I’ve got a sur- prise for you.” A surprise?” she asked looking up, her bright eyes filled with wonder and excitement. There was a moment of silence. Sandy Merrill, what are you hiding from me?” she demanded. Her voice was eager now. Not Sandy Merrill, Char, Aviation Cadet Charles Merrill,” Sandy corrected.

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16 THE SCREECH OWL but still hesitant, he slipped into the familiar place. It was Billy, but a tearful, huddled form, so unlike his former pal. At the sound of foot steps, Billy glanced up, recognized him, but said nothing. To Melvin this was somewhat of a surprise. But at four years of age, there was never a great exchange of words, and they sat side by side, united by a touch of sorrow. Through a space of a few minutes, Billy con- tinued his sobbing, now and then lifting his fist, cold and red, to brush away the half-frozen tears. Here was real cause to run away from home; now he’d have company. He jabbed Billy on the arm. Wanna run away with me?” No answer. He sat still and then tried again. They don’t want me, and maybe your Daddy doesn’t want you.” Then Billy glanced at Melvin, gulped once, and fairly shouted, He does so, and I want him, and Daddy has to go away to war and leave us!” A fresh outburst of tears prevented him from continuing. So Melvin sat and stared at Billy’s anguish, and to his four-year-old mind came thoughts of his daddy; not of the whippings, but of the good times they had had together. In his silent company he sought to comfort Billy. His chum felt this, and they sat in the gathering gloom, quiet, two little men of the world. Then Melvin stood up. Gotta go now,” he muttered. See you tomorrow.” Partly recovered, Billy answered, Come in the morning.” Thus they parted, with little said. Their language was one of silent understanding; a steady flow of words wasn’t necessary. Melvin made home in record time, his mind constantly on Billy’s sorrow. With a cheerful greeting to his mother and dad, he washed up and presented himself for the evening meal. Who said anything about running away from home? Best place in the world, and even a four-year-old knows it. Gladys Novicki, ’4 5. Toll of the Sea The sun was coming up from the east, break- ing the dreary darkness with his bright dancing rays. As he looked down, he saw miles and miles of calm peaceful water. It was difficult for him to imagine the tranquil scene below had been an inferno of fury and destruction that lashed and destroyed ever) thing in its reach three days ago. Looking over to the south, he saw the remains of a pleasure yacht; pieces of wood were floating; a scrap of red cloth lay blazing in the morning light, and an empty box tossing gently with the waves com- pleted the scene of destruction. The sea had once more taken its spoil of lives and material. As he came closer to earth, the sun glanced away to the north to see if the two men who survived the catastrophe still remained on their small, crude raft. One of them was just open- ing his eyes Wake up, Joe!” he cried weakly. His com- panion did not move. Might as well let him sleep. There’s nothing to stay awake for. I don’t mind not having any food, but I wane water so badly. We must be near land! We have to be ! Oh, wake up, Joe ! I have to talk to someone,” he yelled as loudly as his parched throat would allow him. Though he shook his friend, Joe remained motionless. In despair he stood up and looked at the horizon, straining his eyes to pierce the end- less expanse of water. The sun had reached his peak, hurling his fiery rays to earth, but neither man seemed to notice. The survivor remained erect for a long time, silent and motionless. Suddenly an expression of joy spread over his face. He closed his eyes and looked again and again. Turning quickly, he flung himself beside his sleeping compan- ion. Wake up, Joe! We’re safe! We’re safe!” he exclaimed excitedly, Look. ' There is a lighthouse over there.” We’ll be there in sev- eral hours! Wake up!” Joe didn’t stir. He never would again. Joyous at the sight of the distant lighthouse,