Oglethorpe University - Yamacraw Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

Page 13 text:

I couldn ' t let anyone know I was here for a purpose — I couldn ' t let anyong know I had a set objective in mind. Oth- erwise, I wouldn ' t fit in as a typical student. I was soon to discover why they called it the Last Chance Cafe. Pick- ing my way over the students, I pl aced myself in a strategic position, a position where I could see anyone entering or being carried out. If Mac was anywhere near as reckless as I remembered him, I had to see him eventually. Then I met with opposi- tion — some guy with an apron came in and told me I ' d have to leave my carefully chosen seat. He gave me some flimsy excuse about my mak- ing people nervous, staring at them from the middle of the salad bar. Bouncing my lasagna, I walked slowly to a table. They had taken me out of action temporarily, but that was true of everyone else who had come to the cafeteria, too. It wasn ' t over yet.

Page 12 text:

Soon 1 realized that perhaps I looked out of place in this strange new world. Now that I had made it past registration and check-in, I needed to complete my cover. I needed a disguise — a complete change of identity. I picked my brain, looking for a way to blend in with the rest of the crowd. Then I noticed stu- dents in college-type clothes, all car- rying books and wearing jackets with O.U. stenciled on them. 1 was de- termined to find the source of all these clothes and books. After hours of shadowing and stealth, they led me to it. It was called The Bookstore. I found everything I needed there ex- cept a P.I. discount. Then, I made my next important discovery. I was hungry. Very hungry. Casual questions about someplace to eat pointed the way upstairs from the bookstore. But I noticed quick looks of fear and warn- ing. Just before 1 left, an innocent- looking young girl slipped me a tiny crucifix and said her prayers were with me. I went upstairs to the cafe- teria.

Page 14 text:

Throughout my whole time here, I had an odd feeling of being watched, of being followed. And it seemed that everybody was in on it except main- tenance — I could never find them. The classes offered my only avenue of escape from the mounting para- noia that kept nip, nip, nipping at my mind! There, at last I could sleep peacefully. In Western Civilization, I had the uncanny feeling that all this had hap- pened before, a long time ago. Col- lege Math was fun, too, but I knew my real purpose was to find Waray. It was hard, at first, to keep myself from enjoying the soft caress of the headphones against my ears, but I kept my mind alert. The soft whir of the cassette whispered, Interpo- late, interpolate. I knew that even in the midst of class, I couldn ' t allow myself to be hypnotized by the sound of negative integers. I had to keep my senses at their fullest pitch. Most of the days passed without any leads on the whereabouts of Mac, until I met my Chemistry lab partner. She was some dame. At first she seemed like just another dumb redhead. Then I saw her roots. I could never put my finger on just what it was about her, but a little voice inside me told me that this doll meant trouble. Styles,