Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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LEAP YEAR AND A LOCKER KEY nMany I borrow the key for locker lwonty-fivc, please ?'l asked Nan. Certainly he would he very pleased to let her have it. She grabbed the key and hurried down the hall. The girls were com- ing in from lunch, the warning bell had already rung. Nan didn't glance to right or left. If one of the silly, curious girls said any? thing about the party, Nan felt sure she would slap her. She rushed 11p to her locker; the key didnlt fit; it was me wrong-no, finally it slid into the key hole and opened the door. She reached and pulled frantically around for that composition talr let, but found instead, almost under her very nose, right where it must have been pushed through one of the little ruund pigcon holes, a piece of fmlscap paper, cronkcxlly folded aml addressed in an almost illegible and decidedly masculine hand: Miss Nancy O'Rear, Long Beach Polytechnic High School, Long Beach. Calif. She fingered it a minute, womalrfashion. before opening it; then a sudden inspiration dawned upon her. She tore the note open and read The frown vanished from her forehead, the pucker disappeared, and two dimples pceped timidly from their hiding place. It was. all very clear now. It had probably been there all morning, and Jerry, poor, innocent Jerry, how she had misjudged him! She slipped the note into her packet as if it had been the most unimportant thing in the world. Then she smiled again, one of those nice little inward smiles that make you feel warm and happy all over. Uh! but I'm hungry! Ethelynne M. Smith. l12. Page Eleven

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C AERULEA whole wiclc wnrld lmrl there ever hecn such a miserable, abused, unhappy creature. Everything harl gone wrong from the alarm clock on. In the first place, not handing the warning of the little, shrill-voiced alarm, she had drifted blissfully back into untroubled slumbcrs, and consequently as she reached the corner she saw her car sail tantalizingly by. There had heeu nothing to do but walk, so walk she did. llcr shoes were painfully new, and she could fairly feel her morning curls unkinky in thc foggy morning air. When she had finally waded through dust, Mumhlcd over ClOdR, fallen down small jumpingwoff placeg, and other like 111isl'ortuncs, she reached school. She harl searched vainly for her locker key. It was. gone. She rushed to the office; she was politely informed that the duplicate key was lost, evidently harl been taken from the office. The principah with his bunch of kcys, had been her last hope. He had been called to the city. All of these had been troubles, but they faded into iusignift- cance beside the great trouble. The Bunch had decided to give a Leap Year party, foolish things anyway, Leap Year parties, thought Nan, and each girl had to invite :1 hey. She had waited. and hesitated, and thought, and weighed their respective twcightsl virtues and worths in the balance, and fmally from the throng she had chosen Ierry. She knew perfectly well she was going to ask him, all the time, but it was fun to consider deeply erc she tool: such an important step. Only that morning she had written him the note inviting him, and heavily umlergcorcd after the fashion of feminine note writers were the words: lbBe sure and let me know before noon. And he hadn't let her know, and he had had several Oppon tunities. They had passed often in the study hall. and it was too late to ask any one else. She could hardly wink back the tears when she thought of the dream of a dress, all new and soft and silky and blue and covered with tiny roscbuds, spread out on the guest? chamber bed. Her head came up with a jerk. Miss 13- had told them the day before if they came to Latin class without their composition tablets she wouId have to seml them to the othce. and Nan's tablet lay securely inside her locker. She would simply have to get into it, if she had to break in. Some one came inm the ronmt It was the principal. Page Ten

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w Sons of m. 4 Walter CH Longfellow will pardonj Should you ask me whence that fragrance, Whence that spicy, pungent odor, With the scent of cauliflower, And of cheese and macaroni, Noodle soup and baked potatoes, When our appetitc's the strongest; Wafling toward us on the hreezes I should answer I should tell you- From that little building yonder, From the place we all call lCanyf From whose kettles. steaming saucepans, Flocks 01' students, when they hunger, Strive to find the food they want there. Then resounded in the class room, Pealing from the othce signal, At the jerk of the big clock hand Just the hell we all had longed for! Downward through the mass of Students, Stepping madly over Freshmen, Rushing down the steep, long stairway, Tearing through the endless hallway, Fill I reached the big quadrangle, Joined the line of famishcd people. Seeming hours did I stand there, First on one foot, then the other, Reading over, over, over That day's menu on the billboard, Just the eats that I had wished for. Oh, thm tempting, beckoning fragrance! Floating out the open doorway! Soon Pd have the lunch I wanted! When the doorway I had entered, Quickly did I seize a black tray, And a snowy paper napkin, Took my place before the railing. Vainly then I scanned the platters, Of the kettles of potatoese lPage Twelve