crack between the heavy curtains. Monica opened her eyes and looked around the room. Her eyes rested on an over-flowing ash tray. The thick taste in her mouth reminded her of the night before. She looked at the fat alarm clock on the table. The face blurred and then came into focus. 11:30. ‘Monica sat up and felt a throbbing pain just behind her righ t eye. She stood up and walked over to the ttable. The smell of stale cigarette smoke made the muscles in her throat tighten and she gaged. She picked up the ash tray and walked to the waste basket. She dumped the crumpled cigarette butts in the basket and set the dusty ash tray on the bookcase. Monica picked up a long thin book from the book shelf. She sat on the arm of the chair and ran her fingers over ‘the smooth cover. She ) read out loud “Jefferson High School 1962-1963.” She slowly turned the pages and looked at the smiling faces. She stopped turning the pages and stared at the picture of a dark-haired girl. She had a solemn - graduation-frown, but smiling eyes. Monica _ Sheffield succeed, I’m through.” She pulled away from his hands and walked over to the window. She saw the soft grey fog swirling around the yellow arc light. She reached up and stroked a _ lock of her black bangs. She heard him move across the room and open the door. His rough voice grated her nerves. “If that’s the way you want it, baby.” She heard the door click softly as it closed. -The next morning grey light filtered into the dim room from a read out loud “Monica voted girl most likely to 1963.” She shut the book and dropped it in the chair. She stood up and walked over to the ‘table. The hard plastic telephone receiver felt cool in her hand. She picked up the phone in her other hand walked over to the window. She set the phone on the window sill and parted the curtains. She saw the soft grey fog swirling around the now-dark arc light. She dialed the phone and heard the old ring in the phone. The ringing stopped and she heard a rough voice say, “Hello?” “This is Monica, Chad.” TWO WAYS By TO LIVE Debbie Mester The day was one of those perfect summer days that you can only read about or imagine. The mountains rose to the sky with heavendesigned stillness above the green, green grasses below, and were peppered with tiny specks of tall, green pines that stood in contrast to tthe early morning purple of the mountains. The clouds were floating about rather lightly, looking for a place to settle in the strikingly blue sky. On the right side of the valley crashed a great river .. . shaded in the early morning ... irridescent and ice cold. In the mountains, the rivers run to or away from hundreds of little lakes tthat nestle into the many valleys below. One of hese lakes stood opposite the tall mountains with the snow capped tops. The lake of so many moods, shining, wild, but now glimmering in peace, veiled by the faintest line of mist, through which a little white boat stole silently like a swan, And flowers ... the golden daisies, the bluebells, and the many colors of ‘the commonly beautiful Indian paint brush stood silently swaying in the early afternoon breeze. The air was scented with their perfume and of the rich brown soil, and the strong ‘odor of pines. The land was alive with the sounds of singing sparrows and chirping crickets, the plaintive cry of the sea gull, and the rustle and sharp twill of the pheasant... and in the middle of all this I sat, Jill Crosby, dragged into it by my most thoughtful parents, and bored with the idea of spending my whole summer with the daisies. The morning after our arival at my grandparents’ cabin in:ithe mountains was very pretty, but did not compare in any way with our summer house on the beach. After my grandmother’s significant mountain breakfast, which consisted of pancakes, milk, bacon, oatmeal, rolls, ham, hash-browns, orange juice, and fried eggs, I decided to take a walk and find out what I had to live with for the next three months. I drank only a glass of orange juice because of my yearly summer diet, but had to sit at the table until everyone was finished Mv mother’s funny that Way. “May I be excused please?” “Is that all you’re going to eat?” came the familiar statement from across (the table. “Yeh,” I answered. “All right dear. Where are you going?” she asked quickly. “Out!” I answered loudly. She didn't say anything then, but lines of worry were beginning to form in her face, and I began to wish that I hadn’t been so short with her. “TI won’t be gone long,’ I said, walking outside The glare of the sun made me blink and I had a hard time focusing my eyes, I turned around and gave my grandparents’ cabin a long hard look. The cabin wasn’t really bad. In fact it was a very nice cabin. It was just the idea of living in it that bothered me. The cabin was one of the biggest in the valley. Eight rooms: living room, den, kitchen, two baths, and three bedrooms. The whole thing was furnished in lavish poster beds, spinning wheels, butter churns--that sort of thing. My grandparents had money, and a mountain cabin had always been their dream. I thought the whole