Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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“The mechanic is out on a call”, he said. “Is it all right if I wait for his call?” “You may”, said Diane. After all she didn’t have much of a choice. She couldn’t very well ask him to wait out in the rain. “I think there’s some coffee left cn the stove. Would you like some ?” “That would be nice”, agreed Mr. Brady. Diane went into the kitchen and as she was turning on the stove, she heard the tall stranger making another call. I’ll just stand here by the door and wait until he’s through, she thought. She made a pretense of rattling cups and saucers, but couldn't help overhear- ing the conversation. He was saying, “Car is bogged down in the mud . . . six miles from the border . . . girl of about seventeen ap- pears to be alone . . . this will be a pleasure . . . perfect spot for me to stay . . . yes, I’m armed...” As he finished, Diane walked into the living room with the cups. Her heart pounded, her hands kept shaking and her mind kept say- ing . . . Diane, be brave. Mr. Brady went into the kitchen to help her with the coffee pot. They heard a banging sound coming from the back of the house. Diane noticed that his hand went instinctively over a bulge in the right trouser pocket. That must be the gun, she thought. Why oh why did I ever let him in ? The man came back with the same friendly smile on his face. “Your screen door blew open in the back.” he said. They sat down in the living room to drink their coffee. Diane had never drunk coffee before and she thought she musn’t allow him to guess how terrified she really was. This strong liquid would give her the courage she needed. She gazed at the clock on the mantle and realized that her family would be home any minute. Just then the phone rang, and at the first beep Diane was on her feet, rushing across the room to answer it. “Hello, Diane”, said mother. “How are you getting along,” “F-f-fine”, she stammered. “The storm is really getting worse dear. We started home, but went about five miles and the water was up to the headlights of the car so we couldn’t go on. We’re at Mr. Loomis’ farm. He’s out right now but when he comes back he’ll give us a ride home in his truck.” All through the conversation Diane’s spirits were fading to the tips of her toes. Should she tell her mother what she had done? It wouldn’t do them any good to get upset they couldn’t get home now anyways, she figured. “We should be home within an hour,” mother went on. “Diane, is anything the matter? You sound so nervous.” Diane glanced around her noticing that Mr. Brady was standing behind her obviously hearing the whole conversation. “Yes, mother, just uneasy about the storm, I guess”, she somehow managed to say. “All right, dear. We’ll see you in an hour.” As she walked away from the phone, Mr. Brady was all smiles. “Don’t be afraid of the storm, I know how to amuse girls of your age. How about a game of checkers ?” he said. “All right,” said Diane. Although she knew she would never be able to concentrate on the game. Just as the game was ending, they heard a truck drive into the yard. Diane bounded for the door, threw her arms around her father and sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again.” “Do what, Diane?” exclaimed mother. Just then Mr. Brady came into the room from the kitchen. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Reedy?” he said. “I’m Jim Brady. I’m a plain clothes detective from the border patrol. I came to warn you that a very dangerous armed murderer has escaped from across the border and your house is the first on the route we expected him to take. Since Diane was alone, I felt that I should stay with her until you people came home.” “You have our warmest thanks, Mr. Brady,” said Diane’s father. “Would you care for a snack before you go ?” “No, thanks, but I’ll accept a push with that truck outside. My car is bogged about half a mile down the road.” Mr. Brady left with Mr. Loomis, and about ten minutes later the phone rang. Diane’s Four

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DIANE, BE BRAVE Joyce Roberts ’66 Although it was only 7 p.m., the June sky was completely dark and there seemed to be little hope that there would be a break in the steady downpour. With mixed emotions Diane watched her family leave. Too bad she couldn’t go with them, but she was nursing a miserable head cold. This was the first time that she had ever been left alone in the house for the eve- ning, and what a wonderful feeling; she felt so grown-up. After all she WAS fifteen and hadn’t she just recently overheard one of tne neighbors say that she could pass for seventeen? Just because she lived in the country didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of staying home by herself. She walked over to the stereo and put on a pile of soft, relaxing records, then curled up on the sofa with a book that had a book report due on it in a week. Just as the records had begun to play there was a knock on the door. Diane rose slowly from the sofa. “Whoever it is, certainly is perisistent’’, she thought. As she peeked through the window of the door, she saw a tall, slender man in a gray, weather-beaten overcoat. His hat was pulled down over his eyes to shield him from the downpour, and he wore a worried look on his too-thin face. I don’t recognize him she thought, as she backed against the wall. A startled expres- sion crossed her face as he continued to ring the bell. Must have seen me peeking through the windows she surmised. Sure sounds as though he thinks he ought to be let in. Maybe he’s a friend of Dad’s. Think I’ll open the door just a crack, and see what he wants. As the door opened, with the safety latch still locked he smiled. That smile seemed to spread from the even white teeth to the en- tire contour of his face. “May I ask a favor of you, Miss?”, he asked. “My car is stalled about a half mile down the road, and I would appreciate it if I could use your phone to call a mechanic.” She paused for a moment remembering her father’s warning NOT to let strangers in the house. But, who could refuse this man with the friendly smile? His voice was so soft. He seemed so harmless. After all it WAS raining and he said his car was stalled. He was all muddy and wet and the nearest house was another half mile away. Slowly she unlatched the door. Shaking off his coat and hat he entered. “Sure is a nasty night,” said the stranger. Diane nodded, unable to speak because of the sudden panic that spread over her. His soft voice went on pleasantly and his eyes still smiled as he spoke, but she couldn’t help from looking at the ugly red scar that started at his right eyebrow, plunging through the sandy hair to the crown of his head. “My name is Jim Brady”, he said. “What’s yours?” “I’m Diane Reddy. The phone is in the living room,” she murmured. The tall man removed his muddy rubbers and walked through the living room to the phone. Diane heard him dial a number and ask for the mechanic. What have I done, she thought, and the terror seized her anew. Three

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father answered it, and she was standing near enough to overhear the conversation. It was the Border Police checking to see if they had seen a stranger in their area. Mr. Reedy said, “No, but thanks to your plain clothes detective, Mr. Brady, who just left, my daughter was well protected while we were away for a few hours. There was a pause at the other end of the phone. Then she heard the man say, “We have no Mr. Brady. Me must be with the state police. However keep all doors and windows locked . . . the man is armed . . . and dangerous and a vicious murderer . . . he has an ugly red scar running down his . i r’-t e; ebrow to the crown of his head.” A WANDERER’S AUTUMN DAY Fausto DiTullio ’66 If you have never been in Maddox County, Vermont, in the fall don’t read this. If you do, the temptation to go there will be too great for anyone to resist. The rolling countryside stretches for as far as the eye can see. You won’t see any of Man’s cold con- crete jungles here. What you will see is Nature at her most colorful best. When you look at the countryside for the first time, it actually seems to be aflame with vibrant red color. The grazing cows in the pasture move slowly, eating a mouthful of grass every few feet or so. Groups of people talk casually as they slowly walk to Mass. Whatever they do, the people of this small Vermont town do it slowly and without any commotion. These people have never known time schedules or the five o’clock rush hour. How much better this world would be if people just took their time, instead of running pell-mell to work, or to a golf game, or to a P.T.A. meeting. The wind was crisp this October morning, just crisp enough to remind everybody that winter was approaching. As I looked toward the lake, I could see ripples of water being pushed across by the wind. A month from now children would be skating happily across its frozen waters, but now it served as the best place for trout fishing in Ver- mont. As I walked toward the covered bridge which spanned the lake, I could see golden- cclored leaves dancing madly through the air. as though having their last fling before bedding down for the winter. The high, clear blue sky of this Autumn day clashed beauti- fully with the bright orange countryside. I surprised a squirrel as he was in the process of gathering his food for the cold winter months. But just then the people began filing out of the church heading toward home for the turkey dinner which is a traditional Sunday meal to these people of Linden, Vermont. Approaching the covered bridge, I spotted a handful cf small beats, their passengers eagerly awaiting a Big One. Crossing over the bridge, I headed for the hill which over- looked the neighboring countryside. The wind was a little nippier and a little crisper at the top. To my east could be seen the checkerboard fields of corn, and to my west the outline of the Green Mountains, some of which already were covered with fluffy white snow. Looking at the outline of the moun- tains against the big autumn sky gives you a wandering feeling, that feeling that makes you hungry for travel and adventure. Here Five