Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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L J-Fd-6 Q Q.::v6,-- '9' an ..s -- -I .-. L 4 c Z' 1' f .-Q Q Fi fi-ff-' U l ag' .Hg dlyenas., .. JUST BIG B 0 HER n ga L at Qt fgggg ffez. .1 ' 2 MK .aint Q A ug., -in 'I S 2 ff ' 1 3, grid, , - Q! S Q x .. ll . , ll .ya 7 ITD, go get a loaf oi' bread from the groceryf' -' tio yourself 3 ' I won't. Mother said you had to go. ,I i Is that so? We'll see whether I have to go or notf, '. Well, you will, so hurry up before the store closes, Qs A and don't get fresh or l'll tell mother on you. gf ' This last in a shrill, penetrating, feminine voice. And g uttered in the hearing ot' others! What an indignity to . gif I' suffer, and from a kid sister at that! Happy thought! He would threaten her, threaten her ' with the power that only an elder brother possesses. It you don't go to the grocery, I wonlt take you to the play rehearsal tonight. I should worry, was the response in an air of assumed nonchalance. Ilut the tone was wavering, and it spelled triumph for Bud. He was proud ot' his work: he had made a psychological thrust and it had pro- duced a tremendous etlect. He seized the chance. All right, then, l'll go. I'd lots rather go to the grocery now, than 'take you and your kid friends to that rehearsal tonight. And oil' he strutted with a victorious stride and a you'll-be-sorry air. 1: w: ::: ::: :f: ::: :sf re: a: :e: tk Evening came and he was still set in his decision not to act as escort' tor three young ladies between the ages of eight and ten. Ut course, said his mother with a resigned sigh, after the battle had waxed long and furious, it you won't take them l'll have to. llis chivalry was touched: with an inward shudder he forced himself' to say, I s'pose l'll have to take 'em it' you put it that way, but, turning to his sister, understand, it's not for your sake l'm doing it. They had gone attei' the XValton kids, Was Mrs. Walton saying something? Thank you so much tor taking the youngsters down tonight. lt is pert'ectly lovely ol' you. lla-re was compensation! lle glared triumphantly at his sisterg hut

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his glare turned to one of rage when she calmly remarked, Yes, he kicked awfully about it, but mother finally made him come. After that, humiliation upon humiliation! The car was crowded with people returning from picture shows. The opportunity was most favorable for trampling poor Bud underfoot. His sister did not lose her chalice as he assisted the awkward creatures into the car. Oh, Bud, give me my nickel! Go on in, he responded grullly, I'm going to pay the fare, all right. Give me my nickel! I want to drop it into the box! Her voice rose high and shrill above the murmur of the car. Shut up, for heaven's sake! Can't you see the whole car's turned around to look at us? With a look of virtuous indignation, she snatched the nickel from his hand, dropped it in the box with a satisfying clatter, and sailed past him into the car with her two companions in her wake. Then began the laughing and the chattering and the snickering and the shrieking and the giggling. Why, oh, why, he thought with despair, do girls always gig- gle'? With every succeeding, too-audible comment on the passengers in the car, his ears became more incandescent. The elderly man across the aisle smiles, at the other end someone snickers. Bud assumes a cerise com- plexion. The car stops and a young lady enters. Good evening, Joan. Bud tips his cap and shudders as he thinks of the kids. A moment's uninter- rupted conversation and all has gone well. He regains hope. Suddenly- Is that his girl '? inquires the shrill voice of one of the Waltons. He prays for a hole to crawl into, but the day of miracles, he discovers, is over. The car speeds on, and he relapses into a semi-coma, which is broken into only by the words coming from the seat across the aisle: Who do you suppose those curious children are, Walter? They approach their corner, and a small riot at once begins among his charges. Let me ring the bell ! No, I'm going to! After a brief struggle they all ring the bell in turn, like a fire-alarm gone mad, 1'ush out to the rear platform, and squirm off, with the dis- graced Bud at their heels. Under the arc-light at the corner, his lips move in a sort of frenzied whisper, and the burden of that whisper is Never again! Never again! Never again! But he knows in his heart, that, the next time, he will do the same, and that they will do the same, and that, until he gets beyond the sensitive age, nothing can remedy his situation. -LUCY ASHJIAN, '23, YY vi!