Orono High School - Crimson Crier Yearbook (Orono, ME)

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Suddenly a small figure came running down the street and knocked him down. In back of the boy came a policeman. The boy kept on running and by the time the policeman had helped Joey up the boy had disappeared. Joey thought of what his mother had said about being a good boy, but he had to have something to eat. The boy he had just seen had stolen and gotten away with it. It was Joey's only chance. He entered a small store and walked quickly to the bread counter. Be- fore taking anything he looked around to see if he was being watched. He grabbed the bread and had nearly reached the door when someone yelled, Stop thief! . Joey broke into a run and dodged down an alley. He heard people run- ning past. All at once he heard a voice behind him. Why are you hiding here? Joey jumped, startled, and motioned for the boy to be quiet. After the people had gone by, the boy said that his name was Wally. Then he repeated his question. Why are you hiding ? Joey started at the beginning and told him the whole story. And now I don't know what to do! I don't want to steal again and I can't get a job, Joey finished. Why don't you come home with me until you decide what to do? Wally asked. My mother would love to have you, and my brother and I need pro- tection against my four sisters. Dad loves kids. He says, 'The more the merrier. ' Well, Joey said, if you're sure it's all right. I'd love to. Wally's mother was wonderful. She was always joking and laughing. His father said that the only thing that bothered him was that his wife hadn't told him about Joey before. Here he is ten years old, he would say, and I never even knew I had three boys. Joey had never been happier in his life. The only trouble was, in the back of his mind, he knew that he couldn't stay with Wally's family. They didn't have much money, and there were so many mouths to feed. They were carefree, though, and made Joey feel as if this were his home. After a week Joey made up his mind. He couldn't stay. He would have to run away and look for a job again. The next morning he set out. He didn't know where he was going, but at least he was clean and not hungry. He tried to get work at many places, but they all refused him. He hunted all day without success. As it was growing dark, he came to a park and dropped onto one of the benches. He was too tired to worry about anything, and exhaustion claimed him. As he slept, he dreamed about his mother, about Wally and Wally's family. Joey! Joey, wake up! Someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked into the face of Wally's father. Joey, do you think this is a very nice place for one of my sons to sleep? After all, I thought our beds were more comfortable than this. He lifted Joey into his arms and at last Joey was going home. A WINTER DAY by Raymond Savoy '57 The weather today is frightful, But the fire is so delightful. I wish I were home in bed, But I have to go to school instead. The wind is blowing, it sure is snowing, and I'm getting wet. But what do I care, this isn't summer, it's still winter yet.

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A JOURNEY'S END by Carol Reed '55 It is hard to imagine the terror gripping Joey's heart as he huddled in the corner of the dingy room, trying to keep warm. His mother lay on a cot be- side the stove, her face very white and her eyes red-rimmed from fever. The last stick of wood was glowing feebly in the stove. He heard a low murmer from his mother and rushed to her side. Joey, dear, she said, I'm terrible sick. I'm afraid I'm going to die. Please remember to be a good boy. Joey remembered the time, two years before, when his father had been taken to jail, and since then he hadn't seen him. His mother worked hard, but her health failed and now she was dying. He heard his mother continue, There are some pennies in the cupboard. Take those and try to get a job. Her soft voice broke, and she winced with pain. Goodbye, Joey. Remember-- be a good boy for I love you very much. Joey looked closely at her. He called to her, but she didn't answer. His head dropped to his mother's breast and he sobbed, brokenhearted. The fire had gone out and the room was very cold. Joey lifted his head, it was dark. Hetwas frightened. Taking the money from the cupboard, he ran out of the house. Very much later he lay exhausted in an alley. He didn't know how far he had run or where he was. He only knew that he was so tired ..... When he woke, it was morning. He got up, very stiff from cold and also very hungry. He looked down the street at the line of stores. Squaring his shoulders, he started up to a newsstand and spoke to the man selling papers. You don't know where I could get a job selling papers, do you? The man stared at him. You look too young to me, he said and went back to his work. Joey walked dejectedly down the street. He noticed a grocery store with a boy wanted sign in the window. He went in and asked for the manager. A rough looking man came across the store and spoke, You want a job, eh? Well, if you plan on workin' here you got to work hard, see? Y-yes sir, I understand. Well, okay, you can start right now. Take this order to 212 Center Street, and make it snappy. , Joey took the package and stumbled out of the store. He was so tired, so hungry. If he could only have something to eat. Now what had the manager said? Center Street? Where was Center Street? He asked the policeman on the corner to direct him to Center Street. It was almost a mile away. An hour later he returned to the store. No one seemed to notice him. Finally the manager stalked up to him. All right! Where have you been all this time? Y0u've had time to deliver that order three times. I can't keep a boy as slow as that. Besides you're too young anyway. But sir. . . Joey began. Don't you 'but sir' me! I can tell you're lazy and probably a thief Just by looking at you. Get out of here before I throw you out! Joey left feeling terribly let down. Now he felt even more hungry. How was he going to get any food? Suddenly he remembered the few pennies in his pocket. He took them out and counted them. He had 13 cents in all. He knew that he couldn't get much to eat with 13 cents. He ordered toast and milk at a little diner and ate it slowly, hoping it would stop the ache in his stomach. When he had finished, he paid the man 12 cents. With his last penny he bought a large piece of hard candy and left the diner.

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HURDLE HELL by David Adams '54 A cold biting wind greeted me, making shivers run up my back under the ma- roon warm-up suit as I clumped around the massive brick fieldhouse and headed for the athletic field with its black ribbon of cinder track, surrounded by empty gray grandstands. These scuffed old sprinter's shoes that pinch my feet and make such a fa- miliar clicking sound on the hard black top of the parking lot, certainly aren't made to traverse anything but the soft cinders of a track, I remarked to a friendly bulldog tha.t was copying my jogging movements and barking in return that if God had wanted us humans to run with great speed on a cold, windy day he would have provided us with a furry coat, four legs, and sharp claws, too. But run I must with the wind picking the dust up at my heels and flailing my bag- gy sweat suit. f The coach had said, It's cold out, so you hurdlers and middle distance men take two stiff laps. The laps were stiff, but it was my legs that really deserved the term. On the third straight-away the chill began to leave me although the wind made me gasp for each breath. I lengthened my stride into that of decent half milers and began to feel that perhaps this time I would find my pace in the hurdles. Perhaps in spite of the buffeting wind and my stiffness I would, with just a little more push, just a little better form, and just a little more stretching of my stride be able to. . . Well, I'd try anyway. How wonderful it would be to glide over each hurdle with form and speed without hesitating at each barrier, wondering from which leg to leap. The opportunity would soon come because I could see our .other hurdlers warming up for a practice run. After doing a few practice starts, we lined us on the starting stripe. All right, boys, the coach yelled above the wind, Give it everything you've got! Take your places. That familiar nervousness swept through me as I crouched with one knee on the sharp cinders. With my feet planted firmly in the starting blocks, I looked ahead and waited for the starting commands. Get set! barked the coach. Slowly I rose onto my hands, thinking of the sixteen paces that must be taken to that first hurdle and trying to relax at the same time. With the bark of the starting gun the racers surged out of the blocks and down the track, swinging their arms for added momentum. I took the first hurdle with my weight too far forward causing me to break my stride. I'll have to really stretch to make that second one, I thought, as a gust of wind staggered rne. I realized I wouldn't make it over as I caught my trailing leg on the hurdle, sending me crashing into the cinders. For a while all I was aware of was a ter- rible burning sensation. I had traded quite a bit of my skin for cinders of the track. It hurt terribly, but what disturbed rne more was that I found when Itried to get up I had strained my leg muscles. A cleansing shower and mercurichrome would take care of the scratches, but charley horses don't heal quickly. A meet with Old Town coming up that Saturday, the big All Conference meet the next week, and I was very unhappy. Of course, the fact that we lost the Old Town meet by a small margin with me watching on the side lines didn't help any. I watched with burning envy as my team mates matched their speed, strength, and endurance against the rivals. 64