Oglethorpe University - Yamacraw Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

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' ! was soon to discover why they called it the Last Chance Cafe. »» ' «iui5! ' ' It was called The Bookstore. I found everything I needed there ex- cept a P.I. dis- count.

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Something told me Mac was here. Maybe it was the soaring Old World archi- tecture. Maybe it was the red spray paint that said, ' Mac Was Here. ' CD O i CD

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At registration, I signed up for all the early morning classes so I would be spotted by as few people as possi- ble. I knew that I would also have to live there on campus, soaking up the feel of the place, trying to do better with girls than I had the last time I had been in school. I had a hunch that things had changed in a big way since the fifth grade. The R.A. who checked me in obvi- ously had something nasty to hide. He must have known about my hunt for Mac. He must have been thinking of ways to put me on ice, to eliminate me, even as he smugly jingled his in- nocent-looking keys. I could tell by the look in his beady eyes. I could tell by the way he took me up, slowly to the third floor of the brick pile called Weltner and showed me the garret I was to call home for at least the next four months. Here it is, he said, tapping on the door and watching it fall to the floor with a crash. So this is it, I sighed, as I crunched over the cardboard corpse of the door. Looking around the room, I drew in my breath in a long gasp. I had been in rough spots be- fore, but not as rough as this one. But I could take it, or my name wasn ' t Styles. Porter M. Styles. Ill sztjilllllll III o S f§