school premises. For some mysterious reason, I am a target for
about 200 persons! No matter where I am at school, I always
hear mocking giggles, malevolent hints like “a nasty giraffe” or
“a stupid religious hen”, jeers, vomit-like exclamations,
ostentatious spits. It seems there is always something about me
they don't like: my oily hair, my excessive height (1,77 m), my
thin and still undeveloped body (45 kilos), the way I walk, the
way I talk. When I answer back to the jeers, they call me
“vixen”. When I ignore them, they call me “stupid”.
After the second break today, as soon as I got into the classroom,
Dimitri Haribdis hastened towards me and got on my way,
holding a broomstick in his hand (where did he find that?) . “You
ain't passing, you tart!” he said, chuckling maliciously. I don't
know what that word means exactly, but it didn't sound good.
Anyway, I wanted to go to my desk, so I pushed the broomstick
away with all my strength. “You, tart!” he roared again and
sought to stop me with his plump body. I pushed him aside and
made for my desk. “You can't take on girls!” said someone, and
the rest of the pupils laughed.
Wednesday, 7th December 1977
During the sixth hour, while we were having a lesson of religion,
those rascals of my classmates managed to get on my nerves
again: I was sitting alone at the last desk, as usual, when I
realized that everybody was looking my way, guffawing
irrepressibly. I blushed of embarrassment, unable to imagine
why. After half an hour of giggles and sly looks, Helen, who's
sitting in front me, decided to turn back and enlighten me:
“Your legs...” she whispered to me.
“What?”
“Close them!”
I obeyed at once and the whole class burst into wild laughter.
The master didn't utter a word and waited patiently for the uproar
to settle.
However, now that I am thinking about it more calmly, I wonder:
I sit at the last desk, on the right side of the room; beside and in
front of me there are rows and rows of seated pupils. So, how is
it possible that somebody actually saw “something” down there,
taking into account that my pinafore is of midi length?
Saturday, 10th December 1977
I never expected that to happen, but it happened this afternoon:
My mother discovered my secret diary, a big red notebook,
where I write down my everyday experiences (constantly being
derided by the whole school), how I feel (sorrow,
disappointment, self-pity), and what I can do about it (whatever I
do is never enough). This diary is my only ally in life, since I
don't dare talk to anybody about my problems in this wretched
school. Every time I try to say something to mum, her only
advice is “Don't be sad and don't pay any attention to them. You
must always show good manners”.
Anyway, as soon as she read my diary, she got out of control:
“Come here, you, nitwit! What inanities have you written here?
' Dear red notebook, I am alone in the world, everybody hates
me, you are my only friend' ! What's this? Are you sick or
something? Let me catch you at such nonsense again!”
Then, she tore my notebook to bits, she pushed me on the bed
and started smacking and pinching me all over, shouting in a
shrill voice: “Why are you complaining about your life, you
ungrateful bitch? When I was at your age, I worked all day and
gave all my money to my parents! I wasn't left a drachma! Are
you listening to me, you fool? Non even one drachma!” - and she
kept on hitting and pinching me, while I was begging her to stop.
I spent the rest of the day crying and wondering why she hates
me so much.
Monday, 19th December 1977
I was in a hurry to leave for the English tutorial school but the
belt of my skirt was nowhere to find. I told my mother, she
managed to find it after a lot of search, and brought it to me
mumbling angrily “dead loss, you dead loss”. Then she tried to
help me put it on but she tightened it around my waist so
furiously, that I could no longer breathe. I felt very dizzy, I lay in
bed and finally missed the English lesson. “Have I really done so
much harm to you?” whined mum, putting on her usual martyred
look.
Monday, 23rd January 1978
This is the first day in our new school, which is situated at the
site “Little Bridge”, right opposite to the mountain. The building
is very nice, painted in tints of beige and yellow, but the desks
were dusty. My classroom is on the first floor. All pupils were
dismissed one hour too soon this evening, because a light bulb
caught fire and we were told to go away.
I am optimistic about this change. I feel that things will get better
for me from now on. My alopecia has been cured and the
blinking is gone. Even my terrible colds are not so terrible any
more, thanks to some new antihistamines. This winter I got sick
only three times and each cold lasted five or six days; not eight
months non-stop, like it did until last year.
Moreover, I think I'm falling in love again: This time it's with
Alex Tellos, the best pupil in the class. He is in the bad habit of
sucking up to the masters all day, but he is very clever and
handsome.
Tuesday, 21st February 1978
This morning we were given the algebra tests back. I got an 18.
There were no mistakes on my paper. The only thing marked in
red was the phrase “very good” written in the end. By the way,
why an 18 and not a 20?
I think I have got two new problems: During the last break I
noticed that two classmates, who hadn't given me a reason to
think about them so far, were looking at me askance, gossiping
and giggling continuously. I'll see what I'll do with them.
Saturday, 25th February 1978
This is the happiest Saturday of my life: I was the class monitor
and Alex, my darling, lied to me that he had been given
permission to stay in during the second break. Then, he looked at
me tenderly and asked me to show him the solution to a maths
problem. In the next break he told me the same lie. This time he
wanted me to help him with a geometry exercise. I have the
impression he loves me.
In the afternoon I told mum all about Alex and his growing
interest in me, and she took the occasion to give me the usual
lecture -the same ever since I was an infant:
“You must be careful with men, or some shrewd guy will fool
you and then dump you like a squeezed lemon! Always
remember that good girls don't go out on dates. You must never
go to a cafeteria with a man. If you do, he will certainly put
drugs in your drink and then he will do to you whatever he
wants!”
“Really?” I wondered. “All boys do that?”
“Yes, they all do that!”
“You mean, all these young guys who go to cafeterias with their
girlfriend, put drugs in her drink? All of them? At the same
time?”
“Yes, this is exactly what they do, all of them! That's why you
should never go out with a man! A woman must be clever, not be
fooled by trumps. So, listen to what I'm saying: When you grow
up and get into university, you will meet some handsome
undergraduate, but you won't go on a date with him. You will
only sit with him on a bench once or twice, just for some
minutes. Then you will explain to him that you are a decent girl
with moral principles and that you can't be knocking about with
someone who's not your husband -and risk being seen by a
neighbour! So, you will tell him to come and ask your father for
your hand! If he is worthy, he will understand and he will marry
you as soon as possible. If he is not, let him go!”, concluded
mum, with an air of expertise. I guess she could be right, yet I
wonder: Why doesn't she ever say these things to my sister?
Saturday, 11th March 1978
This morning we had no lessons at school; instead we had a
fancy dress party, on the occasion of the carnival season. Panos
and Peter came dressed up as women and Joanna as a beggar.
They went to the headmistress's office and she kissed them. All
pupils were dismissed at 11:00 o' clock. I left with Virna, with
whom we sit together at the same desk, and another friend of
hers, whose name is Kate. As we were walking down the road
talking and laughing, suddenly Kate confided in us that Alex is
in love with her and that he has told her so! Good heavens!
In the afternoon I paid a visit to my good friend, Mary. We
listened to some records and talked about the new cinema films.
Later on, we went to a party thrown by a friend of hers. It proved
to be a flop: The hostess had invited fifteen girls and fifteen boys
from her class, but only eight girls turned up. Anyway, that was
the first time I danced in front of other people. While I was
dancing, an unknown girl accosted me:
“Sorry, do you go to the gym?”
“No,” I answered.
“To a dance school?” asked another one.
“No, nothing like that.”
I began to wonder where they were getting at.
“To a swimming pool?”
“Neither.”
“You should have answered ' yes' ,” was Mary's opinion, when I
told her.
Obviously, the ladies were making fun of me...
Saturday, 18th March 1978
Aunt Penelope has started her old tricks again: Every time she
meets me, she sends me on errands: “Go there and buy me that”.
More often than not, when I return from an errand she
immediately sends me on another one. I can't put up with this
any more.
Yesterday evening she happened to see me in my yard, as I had
just returned from school.
“Yvonne, come here!” she called but I was not at all in the mood
for running here and there at this hour.
“I can't, I have work to do!” I replied sharply and made for the
back door, without even looking at her.
This morning aunt Penelope came over and began to complain at
once: “I called Yvonne last night because I wanted to give her
some pastry, but she told me she had work to do and she refused
to come. So, those delicious cakes were finally eaten by other
people! Bad for you!”
“I was tired,” I excused myself awkwardly.
The good thing is that it will be a long time until she sends me
on errands again.
Finally, I have realized that Mr Tellos is a mean little man, full of
vulgarity and selfishness. I've heard so by many girls but I
refused to believe it, until I saw it my own eyes this morning:
The great lover is in the habit of sending love letters to all the
girls in the class. During the geometry lesson, I stole a glance at
a written message he had just sent to Virna: “You pussy is very
nice”, it read. When I saw it, I was taken aback. The other girls
seem to be flattered with messages like this, but I don't want to
know him any more!
Saturday, 1st April 1978
April Fools' Day today. According to the old custom, people tell
any lies they want so as to trick the others and have fun. As soon
as the bell rang for the first lesson, we changed classrooms with
C3, hoping to miss physics. Nevertheless, the physicist came and
gave us the lesson although we were in another room, while the
mathematician went to the others who had occupied our
classroom. So, our little trick didn't wash.
In the second hour we had algebra and we came up with a new
plan: All girls from C3 and C4 gathered in the classroom of C4,
while all boys were in the classroom of C3. However, when the
mathematician and the literature mistress arrived, they made us
return to our classrooms. So, neither this time did we shirk the
lesson.
During the next break I met Dora, whom I've known ever since
we were in primary school. Sometimes we talk, but we've never
been close friends. I was surprised when she invited me to her
birthday party, which is tomorrow.
In the fourth hour Mr Tellos sent me a love-letter signed with the
name of another classmate. It read “You are very beautiful, I love
you”. I gave no answer. In the sixth hour, during the history
lesson, Alex sent me three more messages but I didn't even deign
Poor thing, he thought that all girls were dying for one of his
famous love-letters! Let alone it's already the talk of the class
that the “lady-killer” keeps sending me letters that I just ignore. I
had lots of fun today!
Sunday, 2nd April 1978
At 7.30 in the evening I went to Dora's party. Firstly I was
astounded at the size of her house, then at its luxury. It is a real
palace! Yet, the most unusual thing was that I felt quite
comfortable there: Strangely enough, it was easy for me to talk
to many of the guests, most of whom I had never seen before.
Someone was telling hilarious jokes and we were all laughing,
while waiting for Dora's older brother to give us the record
player. He and his friends were behind closed doors, in another
room, and they needed the record player because they were in
the middle of a strange role playing game called “President of
the USA” or something like this.
A little later, when the game ended, the older boys came out of
the room and danced with us. A tall, gorgeous man asked to
dance with me. I felt somewhat embarrassed because I'm not
used to dancing, and when I do I am a little clumsy. I left the
party at ten o' clock, according to mum's advice. When I got
home, there were two delicious skewers waiting for me on the
kitchen table.
Thursday, 6th April 1978
This is the most revealing day of my life: Only today did I
finally realize what kind of “angels” all my classmates are, but
most of all three bitches who seem to have all the strings in their
hands. What happened to me this morning, was not a simple
hoax. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. I am awfully
ashamed of myself and scared stiff of what I am going to face.
Now I'm certain that all of them have been trying to destroy me,
especially my soul. They eventually managed it today. I am
already full of hatred. I want to take revenge. I want to kill, not
only the three bitches, but all my classmates.
Let's take things from the start: During the whole week, that
“lady-killer” of Alex kept sending silly love-letters to me as well
as to all the girls in the class. Not only did I refuse to answer
them, but I also avoided even to open them, because he often
gets vulgar.
This morning he didn't send me anything; however, these three
harlots thought it would be funny to write some false love-letters
for me, signed with his name. It was evident that the first three
messages were phoney because the handwriting didn't match.
However, the fourth one was so perfect that I believed it was
really Alex who had sent it. In the meantime, I was under
tremendous pressure from all the other girls: “If you don't answer
the messages, everybody will think you are too silly to
understand!” Antonia told me and the others seconded her
promptly. So, I decided to reply, asking him never to bother me
again.
The disaster reached a peak during the break: Those three rascals
wrote another message for me, Tellos happened to see it and he
started pulling my leg. I felt extremely ashamed and
disappointed. I wished I were dead. But it didn't stop there: Now
the whole school is deriding me, they are calling me names, they
all believe I'm stupid, and I have no idea on how to prove the
opposite. The only thing I really want, is to blow up the
classroom with everybody inside! I hate them all! I don't know
how to get even with them. What can I do? Who can help me?
Nobody, I'm afraid.
As soon as I got home, I went to my room and burst out crying
for the rest of the afternoon. My mother saw that something was
wrong and she urged me to tell her everything. After a lot of
hesitation, I told her the whole story. To my surprise, she didn't
advice me to “forgive, forget, and show good manners”, as usual.
Instead, she listened to me with interest and understanding; she
even persuaded me to write down on a piece of paper the names
of the three harlots: Helen Fourakis, Mary Tripis, Anna Tsaldaris.
“...But I want you to promise that you will neither come to
school and complain, nor mention anything to anybody about
them,” I said.
“Don't worry, I know what to do,” she reassured me.
Friday, 7th April 1978
I had the time of my life at school today: We were having a
chemistry lesson, when Antonia suddenly started whining “...but
we've knocked it off...” (apparently, she had done something
too), while many of my classmates were fidgeting at their desks,
full of worry. I wondered why and then I saw my mother in the
schoolyard, heading for the headmistress's office.
When the bell rang, everybody came to me, one by one, and
asked anxiously: “Did you mum say anything about me?” … “Or
about me?” and so on. I assured them that I had no idea about
my mother's initiative, probably they didn't believe me, I couldn't
care less. Even Alex Tellos was pale with fear:
“Did your mother mention anything about me? That was not my
fault!” he said timidly.
“I don't know, maybe!” I replied.
He was scared stiff but he tried to play it cool. As about the three
rogues, they almost admitted their guilt; and they were no longer
in the mood for tricks and nonsense.
When the headmistress got into our classroom, she showered
abuse on everybody, she also said she knew about the three
ladies; then she gave us a geography test, I didn't know a thing, I
couldn't care less either. Oh, yes, It was a wonderful day today!
Saturday, 8th April 1978
The three bitches had tantrums all day today. Why? Yesterday
afternoon, right after classes were dismissed, the headmistress
called them in her office and hauled them over the coals for three
hours, as Mary Tripis complained this morning, still whining. I
certainly can't say that I feel sorry for them.
... However, this rare victory of mine will bear serious
consequences: Right from the very next day, I become a target
for the whole school. Not only my classmates, but also pupils
from other classes despise me openly and call me “mollycoddle”
or “sneak” all the time. Wherever I am, I can hear torrents of
mockeries, catcalls, jeers. The whole school has turned against
me because I dared talk to my mother and because the three
whores got a blasting from the headmistress (so much of a
punishment). What did they expect, really? Put up with their
wickedness for ever, without reacting anyhow, finding it even
amusing? They are lunatics, all of them!
Thursday, 4th May 1978
This afternoon my mother, my sister and I went to see an oculist
in Kolonaki, because all three of us have eye problems. We
arrived half an hour too soon, and Alice kept nagging mum
because she wanted a toast here and now.
We entered a big cafeteria which, strangely enough, was
absolutely empty. As soon as we got in, the waiters started
looking at us askance, whispering to each other. Some other
people came in, but they didn't sit at the tables; they went down
the stairs next to the bar and disappeared into the basement.
Mum walked to the bar and ordered three toasts: one for my
sister, one for me and one for her. The bar-woman prepared them
quickly, she asked 150 drachmas for them (!), and then she said
to mum, in a low voice: “Take your children and get out of here
at once!” We got away at the double.
According to the doctor's diagnosis, my mother has presbyopia,
and my myopia has risen a little. As about the small brown
tumour my sister has in her left eye, thank God it has stopped
growing. Fortunately, it is at the side of the eyeball and can't be
seen by others.
Mum, Alice and I took 100 drachmas and walked to the funfair
witch takes place in Sourmena square (about a kilometre away
from our house), on Sunday after Easter. Firstly, we got a lottery
ticket and won a toothbrush. Then we went to the mirrors; I had
great fun there, because some of them showed me short and fat,
just like an ordinary female. A little later, we went to the
swinging boats. Whom did I happen to see there? George
Franzis, the most handsome man in the world! He looked taller
and thinner than he did last year, he was dressed in crimson, he
was simply gorgeous! He saw me too, we looked at each other, I
thought he would stop and talk to me, but he just kept walking. I
didn't dare speak to him. I just glanced at him and kept going...
Sunday, 21st May 1978
This morning I went to Mary's house in Voula and stayed there
all day. I can't say I had a bad time, but the truth is that my friend
has been acting like a diva lately and this gets on my nerves.
In the evening her uncle and aunt turned up. They have a son at
our age. At their presence, Mary became even worse. She was
always trying to be clever, she was rude to me or even ignored
me completely. At a moment, I disagreed with her about
something and she let fly at me:
“I've had enough of you! Go to hell!”
I was dumbfounded at her insolence, but I stood silent and
checked in my anger.
“Has she abused you like that before?” her cousin asked me.
“No,” I answered embarrassed.
“That was a good start!”
Later on, it was revealed that Mary's cousin and I attend the
same gymnasium but he is in C2 class. I have never noticed him
so far and, as he told me, I didn't remind him of anything either.
“That's weird! How come don't you know me? The whole school
has been talking about me!” I let slip but then I shut up
immediately.
All night long, in my bed, I kept wondering: What's wrong with
Mary? Once we used to get along so well. It seems my friend has
changed; she is no longer the carefree girl I used to know. Day
by day she is becoming a woman, while I obstinately remain a
child. Mary likes flirting all men around her, while I don't give a
dime. I am still in love with George Franzis. Mary enjoys going
to the park and swaying her hips to all the boys there.
When I frowned at the whole performance this afternoon, Mary
looked at me scornfully and said:
“You are a girl, too! You should sway your hips a little!”
Yet, this is impossible for me, maybe because I'm still tall and
thin like a rake, not at all in the mood for airs and graces. Female
mincing and simpering is just not my cup of tea...