Washington High School - Washingtonian Yearbook (Fremont, CA)

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-i ' a Kathleen Clarke had lived in Panama since she was small. Kathleen was now nearly nineteen. Her skin, never delicate, was browned from ex¬ posure. Her eyes were blue and her hair a glorious brown that no amount of tropical sun could harm. She was slender and athletic. ‘‘Come, called Kathleen to her brother, ‘ IPs time for a swim.’’ ‘ Coming,” answered Art. Kathleen was waiting in her swimming suit. The becich was just be¬ low the house, so they always went down in their suits. Kathleen could swim like a fish. Ever since they were children she and her brother had swam. At the beach they found their crowd. It was near dusk, the time a swim is most enjoyed in Panama. “Who’s that?” questioned Kathleen of Art. Strangers on this beach were few. Only people living near, American people, came there to swim. “Oh, I meant to tell you,” replied Art. “He’s a cousin of Pete’s. He has just come from the States. He’l l be here the rest of the season. I’ll introduce him to you.” “All right, he looks like a good addition to our crowd. Can he swim ?” “Don’t know. Find out.” “I’ll have to. If he doesn’t swim, he’ll be a flat-tire.” Art introduced Kathleen to the stranger, who was Roger Mendon. He was light-haired, tall and good-looking. “Kathleen,” said her brother. “You’ll have to call your race off. Jim isn’t here.” Page Twenty-eight

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I’age Twenty-seven

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' ‘Why can ' t I take his place? broke in Roger. “You can if you can swim, replied Kathleen. “Seems a shame though. Jim is the best swimmer around here. Although Fve beat him sometimes. “Well, suppose you try beating me? I’ll give you a good chance. “Take it, said Art, then whispered something in his s ister’s ear. “Art always has confidence in me, thought Kathleen. “Maybe Robert Mendon isn’t such a good swimmer. “I’ll take the chance, Kathleen said aloud. “But I don’t want any ad¬ vantage. “Well, all right if you won’t take it. The crowd of young people had gathered on the clean white sand to watch the race. “Who, they were thinking, “is this young man who dares to think he can beat our Kathleen? The sun had set and the depth of darkness had grown. The two dots were barely visible as they swam to the raft. The crowd could not dis¬ tinguish whether the one ahead was Kathleen or not. But it was Kath¬ leen! With clean swift strokes she reached the raft. Then she turned back. Where was Roger? She had thought him barely behind her. As she swam on, she saw a form approaching in the darkness. Could he have a cramp? She raced on till she reached him. He had no cramp but was slowly ploughing through the water. “Come, said Kathleen, “swim back with me. You’ll never reach the raft. “I’m going on, sputtered Roger, determined and stubborn. “You’re not. You’re coming back with me. I’ll take no chance of your drowning. What made you say you could swim? Why you can barely paddle. Kathleen made the desired impression. Roger was at once submissive. “Now, said Kathleen, “I’m not going to say a word about this. I’m going to teach you to swim. As they swam back in the total darkness, Roger was thinking, “Darn rotten I am. Some little sport to take it like that. —LUCY SHINN, ’27. Pag-e Twenty-nine