Rancho Alamitos High School - El Conquistador Yearbook (Garden Grove, CA)

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Art and Literature VOICE INSIDE As I walked into the house I heard somebody calling. Hey! Hey you! I looked all around. then thought to myself , I'm going crazy. I knew nobody else was home. Down here on the floor. when I looked down I realized my brother's levis were talking. Now listen! I have been quiet long enough. I have to get some- thing off my pockets. All I could do was take the nearest seat. My name is Lee, and today is my birthday. Do you realize I am three years old? Yep, I've been living with your brother for three years. Believe me- it hasn't been easy. Being a pair of levis is a rough job. Keith always forgets to wash me - sometimes I get washed once a month. And I really hate it when Keith goes to all those stupid parties. He has to act big, spilling beer and wine on me. I hate beer and wine. I'd rather have mixed drinks. When it's around twelve o'c1ock, the party is going strong, the music loud enough to make the walls shake, and me - I'm wet from waistline to cuffline, drunker than a skunk. About this time Keith has to go outside into the cold air so he can look at his friends' motorcycles. As they fiddle with the greasy parts. Keith sits in the dirt which turns into mud as soon as it touches me. Then Keith always wipes his black hands on me. It is very difficult to breathe with all that gunk filling my pores. About three or four o'clock, we get up to go home. And like every other night, I'm thrown on the floor. By this time I'm so exhausted, I want a good night's sleep. Instead. the dog comes running in, and plunk, he lies on me. That wouldn't be so bad except he scratches all night long, and throws all his fleas on me! Sorry for bothering you, but I just had to tell somebody why I look so old and worn out. As Lee said this, Keith walked into the room and picked his levis up. As I tumed to leave the room , I heard Lee whisper, If there is any truth to reincar- nation, in my next life I think I will be a motorcycle. Everybody takes care of them. Steve Neely 12th Grade ,I :,: ::g-af ny , S, Ui 1 X N, .I'- ig- Iohn Montoya 12th Grade o-1-ugfnpr' L fn.: U ' ' XL4 1 5

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Jim Gurzi 11th Grade li V ' e' ' A. o . V 'V' . , . . , , t . , - ,, -' Sf' I.: '-s: e N Q M . :Q 0 ' .. 'Tia X X ' ' - 31,-1 , . 4.--1 A n : a V,-,,..,,Nn I, f Jeff Carlson 9th Grade 'Sz' . I, U.. aIE..' 'N . . S I O .N 0.3, BEFORE THE RACE The warm protective cloth covering completely is gone now . The wind and dark clouds. bitter cold , stab and slap my almost naked skin the sweat freezes and dries I breathe hard. A leaf falls from a nearby branch. The breeze grabs it with its icy palms and throws it toward the lake. Small ripples white-capped and flowing receive the dead leaf and send it sailing past a duck - the bird looks so comfortable, warm and content. I can hear my heart now it is in rhythm with my foot steps. Unbearable , the tension rips and tears my inner organs while the wind whips my back. Into the group I migrate the grass scraped dry hidden softness by the river of air yet underneath, the hints of hidden moisture. It's warm here in the pack, all breathing hard . white mist hanging from the breath, Restless. everyone moving about. The outside voices hush. Even the wind calms the group freezes, everyone leans forward as far as possible every inch counts . A command. I close my eyes and talk to someone I barely understand. I-le is close to me now. I open my eyes my fear is gone the cold is gone my mind is blank the lasting instant of waiting. It's over now with the sharp terrifying signal the mob moves. The waiting is finally over. Steve Neely 12th Grade Tornado The old grey barn sleeps soundly in the night. Unnoticed is the subtle arrival of the murderous clouds. A sudden roar breaks the tranquility of slumber As the wretched funnel-shaped cloud appears on the horizon. Ringing in my ears is the sound of wood being ripped from its foundations like arms and legs wrenched from their sockets. It lasts only a minute, or half. The funnel's work is done . It left its mark behind. The old grey barn will sleep no more . Nadine Bergstrom 11th Grade