"WEST ECHO! W! W!! ‑ E! E!! - S! S!! ‑ T! T!!" shouted cheerleading captain, Sandy Mustradi at last Friday's game.

Dark, slender 'San' told me she goes with a certain ex‑Mainite and collects charms, but she was so busy cheering that I had to resort to other sources for information.

I approached some of her girl friends and asked them for help. Soon they were busy discussing Sandy's life.

"Golly, 'Mustrad' is one of the nicest seniors around. 'Member when she made homecoming court! She looked so cute!"

"Yeh, and she's such a sharp dresser. She's got loads of clothes."

"She's active in Student Council and Pep club."

"And in V‑Show! She's been a cheerleader for three years, too."

"We call her 'Mustard' sometimes. I love the way she laughs and jokes around. She's such a nut."

"She sure gets flushed when the guys tease her‑especially about Barb Webster."

"Remember the times she's forgotten the words to a cheer? That one night she just stood out on the court watching the other cheerleaders. She was as red as my sweater."

"Sandy has a lot of spirit, though, and she thinks everybody should have more pep and come out to back our teams."

"She's a good dancer ‑ isn't she going to Northern?"

"Yes, I think so. She wants to be an elementary school teacher.'

I wrote as fast as I could, gathering more and more bits ‑"Her most‑used expression is "You're Crazy", and she likes English best."

"Of course her favorite subject of all is Dick. She's so sweet."

They kept talking; I kept writing, but after a while, I got lost. After all, just how fast can a fink write?