There was a blurred photograph of Nick Grutler going to the basket with what could have been a swollen pumpkin in his hand. '' Where are your glasses, Jessie?" ' 'Bug off, Sara.'' In the basketball section in particular, and to a lesser extent throughout the football and wrestling pages, every other picture looked as if it had been shot underwater. A moment later she was laughing her head off. Quickly she turned to the sports section. The cover was dark blue, featureless except for a silver name tag on the top and a tiny gold rope emblem in the lower right corner, which Sara had to assume bore some relationship to Tabb High's bronco-bull mascot. Did I not say it months ago? Sara smiled with glee as she squatted on the floor of the recently reconstructed snackīar and tore open one of the boxes and pulled out a copy of the annual. There had been some concern-so the rumor went-about the quality of the athletic photographs. The yearbook club had been late sending the book to the printers. The books had only arrived the night before and had to be unpacked and sorted into alphabetical order. The task called for a crack-of-dawn rising. As ASB president, she had inherited the job of passing out the yearbooks. The last day of school began early for Sara Cantrell.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |