Monday, 5th September 1977
Full of joy and optimism, my mother and I went to the school this morning so as to enroll me in the third class of gymnasium. However, mum had the brilliant idea of giving our true address (13, Nereid st.), instead of the fictitious one (24, Tyrtaios st.) we had given the previous two years. As a result, I was not admitted at the high school of Glyfada because Nereid street is out of its territory. We were told I should go to the gymnasium of Argyroupolis, miles from nowhere, at the foot of Mount Hymettus. Willy-nilly we took a taxi and went there, but I wasn't admitted to that school either; according to the masters, our address is in the territory of the high school of St Tryfon -which is the most reasonable thing.
We got away at the double and ended up at the above school, which is situated near the homonymous church. It looked rather gloomy, and it was full of pupils and parents who were trying to get stowed in its poky rooms. I didn't want at all to enroll in it, as it was ugly and in a bad state of repair; besides, it had a bad reputation. Last but not least, I was sure that George Franzis would never come here.
I was really relieved when I heard that neither in that school could I be admitted! According to the pudgy physical education mistress, who was responsible for the enrollments, I was supposed to attend the high school of Argyroupolis. We explained that we had just come from there but she wouldn't listen. So, we took another taxi and went back to Argyroupolis. To no avail, of course.
Finally, I was admitted in the gymnasium of St Tryfon, after my mother had begged a lot. I could feel my heart sinking, as the image of George was already fading in my conscience. When we took the way back home, we were both exhausted and sad...
Wednesday, 21st September 1977
This is my first day in the third class. I looked everywhere, hoping to see any old classmates from the unforgettable B4 of last year, I hoped to find some, but I only met the two Christides sisters, who were very friendly to me. Only they and I have ended up here.
This means I'm never going to see all those dear persons again, most of all my George! I have lost him for ever. The more I realize it, the more I get depressed. Let alone that all the boys here are complete nonentities in comparison with George. All I can have from him now, is memories...
Monday, 10th October 1977
I don't think I will manage to participate in the parade of the 28th October this year. For some strange reason, the nasty physical education mistress hates me and she just refuses to include me in the file.
“Won't Yvonne come to the parade?” a girl wondered.
“What is Yvonne good for?” answered the mistress ironically.
It's not that I'm looking forward to taking part in the stupid parade. However, if I don't participate, I will get a very bad mark in physical education, which will lower the average grade of the school report. Therefore, I had better inform my mother about this.
Tuesday, 18th October 1977
After my mother's complaints yesterday, the physical education mistress finally had to include me in the file, in the very first row because of my height. The other pupils have been looking at me askance ever since. In fact, the whole school has been talking about me, calling me a “mollycoddle”. During the rehearsals for the parade, my schoolmates never stop admonishing me: “Move your arms higher!” … “Make bigger steps!” … “Go slower!” etc.
This morning they really got on my nerves, so I turned back and told Joanna, who was the lead singer of the serenade: “Why, are you jealous that I am in the first row?” They all shut up at the moment, but I could feel they were already plotting the reprisals.
... On the day of the parade, the whole school will gather along the coastal road of Glyfada, and wait for our turn to march before the town dignitaries. As soon as Nelly Christides saw me, she groaned sarcastically: “So, you are here! Couldn't you have broken your leg and not have come?”. I didn't utter a word; I was only speechless at such malice from a person I considered a friend.
Thursday, 3rd November 1977
As soon as the bus to school came and the door opened before me, I came face to face with an unknown pupil, who was looking at me mockingly. All at once he saluted me like a soldier and shouted: “Heil Hitler!”. The whole bus shook with laughter. I got on as if nothing had happened, totally ignoring the derisive giggles around me. Anyway, the trump was not alone, he was in a big gang. Trumps never go about alone. If I had reacted anyhow, things would have become even worse for me...
Friday, 18th November 1977
Frankly, I just can't understand what is happening to me: Although I have found myself in a foreign environment, away from the old good classmates and away from George, for the last two months I have been doing my best to show positivity and adaptability, so as to fit in my new school. I am one of the best pupils, and I also push myself to approach and talk to some children during the breaks. I try really hard to get over my innate inclination to solitude and shyness, which had abated last year; yet, now it has grown again because of the extreme hostility I have to confront every day.
Despite my endeavors to fit in, the result seems to be poor if not negative. I really don't know why, but I have become the laughing-stock of the whole school. For the time being, the only thing I can do is show indifference.
The only girls who talk to me are the two Christides sisters, with whom I return home every day after school. This afternoon they advised me to be more extrovert, cheerful and friendly towards the other children: “They think you are selfish and haughty. That's why some spread bad rumours about you, saying that you are uppish, foolish and obsessed with religion. Unless you change your attitude, they will never stop deriding you”, concluded Stella, while Nelly was smiling enigmatically.
Saturday, 26th November 1977
Every day I have to wear this horrible orthopedic belt, which makes my breathing hard and gives my body an unnaturally straight posture; let alone it doesn't really hide my cyphosis, since it doesn't prevent my shoulders from drooping. Every morning, when I put it on, I feel like throwing up. Moreover, this belt has worsened my aerophagia, which first appeared last year. When I get sick with it, I can hardly breath, I feel like choking, and it doesn't go away unless I lie in bed.
I have some other health problems too: Since last month I have been suffering from a strange eye illness that makes my eyes blink continuously and uncontrollably. In addition, a stammer I've had since I was a child, has deteriorated remarkably. Also, my hair has become too greasy, wild and scanty; “diffused alopecia”, diagnosed the doctor.
This morning, as soon as the bell rang for the third break, a classmate approached me. It was Peter, a well known trump and bully, together with four of his friends. He smiled ironically and sought to deride my blinking and stutter: “Do... do... do you know that... that... that... you are very... ry... ry beautiful?” There followed a torrent of giggles and jeers.
Monday, 5th December 1977
It has become a real torture for me to stand anywhere within the 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 sc
hool.
“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.
Monday, 21st March 1978
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 to read them.
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.
As soon as 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 o
nly 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.
Sunday, 7th May 1978
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 last year, dressed in crimson, 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...
Sunday, 18th May 1978
This time it was Mary's turn to come and stay with me for the weekend. I can't stand her any more. She's become such a smart aleck! She thinks she is the most beautiful and shrewd woman in the world. All she is interested in is throwing herself at any man she meets, including my friend Gregory who is twelve years old now.
During these two days, she was constantly itching to go to the local park and flirt any man she found there; moreover, she kept shouting English or French phrases so as to be heard by everybody. “Don't try so hard, we can speak English too!” a boy pulled her leg yesterday. Then, she was in the sulks and hardly talked to me from Saturday afternoon till Sunday evening, when she left with a long face.
Monday, 19th June 1978
I considered it weird that Mary called me this morning and asked me to visit her at 1:30. “We'll take lunch together, and we'll have a nice time! Bring your sister along, if you like,” she said and I agreed, thinking that she wanted to make up for her bad behaviour at the weekend.
So, Alice and I arrived on time, we rang the bell three, four times, but nobody answered the door. We walked around for a quarter or so, into the heat of the summer, then we rang Mary's bell again, still nothing. We repeated the walk, we tried again at 2:05, to no avail. In the end, we took the way back home disappointed and exhausted for nothing.
Later in the afternoon, when I called her on the phone, Mary excused herself that she had to go somewhere for five minutes, right at the time of the appointment. Nonsense. I've been very patient with Mary, but I think enough is enough. I don't like these comings and goings anymore...
Thursday, 22nd June 1978
It was about noon when Mary phoned me and, without dropping the slightest hint about my birthday which was yesterday, she started boasting that she had passed the class with an average of 16. I congratulated her, though I know she barely got a 12. Then, she suggested we meet in the afternoon, but I told her straight out that we had better put an end to our friendship, since we can't communicate any more.
“Why, Yvonne? Why can't we communicate? Did we have a row? What happened?” she sounded sorry.
“We didn't have a regular set-to, but you hardly talked to me during the whole weekend and you always wanted to have the upper hand. You can't bear the slightest objection.”
“Nobody likes objections!” she said sharply.
“Anyway, that was it, we are through!” I concluded.
“Shan't we meet again?”
“No. Goodbye, Mary.”
“Goodbye...”
Wednesday, 28th June 1978
This is the last day of the entrance examinations to lyceum. I would take an exam in ancient Greek and I had to go to the high school of Argyroupolis, at the back of beyond. I don't know why, but I was confused and got off the bus five or six bus-stops before. As soon as I realized it, I started wandering in the streets in a frantic condition, desperately looking for the huge building. I knocked on many doors answered by drowsy people who had no idea where that high school was. Finally, after a frenzied trek through thorny fields, I found it at last! My relief was indescribable.
I was more than half an hour late, but fortunately the subjects hadn't been given yet. Helen, who was sitting behind me, wanted me to help her and kept nagging me all the time, just like she had done in all the previous exams. I had no other alternative but literally shout to her “Leave me alone!”. The invigilator turned round and gave us a stern look, but she didn't say anything. Phew!
In the end, after all papers had been collected, the pupil sitting in front of me turned and talked to me. It was Helias, a polite boy with blond hair and blue eyes, one of the few good children in my class. He took a deep breath and, without beating around the bush, asked to get off with me; I found him agreeable and nice, yet I was not at all in the mood for such things and I discouraged him immediately. Besides, I found it rather strange that he chose
to talk to me today, the last day of the exams. During the whole school year we had never spoken to each other, we didn't even say “hello”.
“Shall I give you my photo, so that you will remember me?” he asked sadly.
“I can remember you without it!” I replied flat.
Friday, 30th June 1978
The school year is over, and I feel very happy about it because this was the worst year of my life. The whole school sucked, but especially my class (C4) was a regular bedlam, full of mad rogues who thought they were the eighth wonder of the world. They just couldn't put up with anyone different from them. “They are trumps and if they see a good child, they seek to make his or her life miserable”, as the headmistress herself had said to my mother.
I passed the class with an average grade of 17.7, and got into General Lyceum with an average of 85%. Not so bad for someone who was derided by a whole school incessantly, vulgarly, malevolently. On the other hand, many “geniuses” in my class, popular and sexually experienced, didn't manage to move up. To name just a few: Anna Tsaldaris (a harlot), Dimitri Haribdis (help! A dragon at large!), Peter (a trashy Don Juan), Joanna (a bimbo), Vanda (a sly fox) etc. In all, 14 out of 38 children in my class will have to repeat the class...
Monday, 10th July 1978
The best and the worst day in my life: The school year has just started and I have to go to that awful high school again. On arriving there for the first time after three carefree months, I hope to meet some of my old schoolmates from the gymnasium of Glyfada. None of them is there, apart from George Franzis! We are looking at each other, we start talking cheerfully, he is gorgeous as always. I feel great, but then something nasty happens: I wake up and my frustration is beyond description...
In the morning I decided to walk to the high school of Glyfada and have a look at the results of the third class. I didn't see George's name anywhere and I was very disappointed. In fact, there is not much left of the unforgettable B4 of last year: Out of 61 children, I saw the names of 30 only -which means that my hopes are lost once and for all.
Wednesday, 12th July 1978
This afternoon my mother and I went to see a local physiotherapist. After he had examined me, he said I would need ten sessions of physiotherapy for my back. He also showed me some exercises to do at home, and I must keep doing them until I'm eighteen years old.
I'm really bored even at the thought of physical exercise, but at least I will get rid of that horrible orthopedic belt, since the physiotherapist considers it to be completely unsuitable for me:
“The belt immobilizes the body, while such cases of scoliosis require motion! Who prescribed that thing?” he wondered.
As soon as he heard the name of the other doctor, he gave us a meaningful look and said:
“And he sent you to his brother, right?”
Right...
Friday, 21st July 1978
This afternoon my dear sister managed to get on my nerves again: We were both lying in bed, watching TV. Alice was about to eat an apple and I was looking at an interesting poster of a Greek singer, which I bought the other day.
Suddenly, Alice began whining: “I want you to give me this picture, right now!”
“I won't give it to you, it's mine!”
“You are evil! Give it to me!”
“No! Why do you want it, anyway? You don't even like these songs!”
“I want it! I want it now!” she shouted and I refused again.
“I'll show you now!” she roared and hurled the apple at my belly with all her strength.
It hurt a lot, I burst into crying with pain and Alice snatched the paper cover from my hands and tore it to a thousand pieces. There followed a battle royal, I made a strongly-worded protest to mum about my sister's achievements, but she looked at me stern and said: “She's only half your age, you shouldn't pay her any heed” -the same old tune.
I ran to my room furious; a little later, mum came and told me that Alice was sorry about all that: “She tore your picture by mistake, she didn't mean it, she didn't know what she was doing, don't be so strict to her, try to understand...”
“Alright, now leave me alone,” I replied and mum walked out with a long face.
Wednesday, 20th September 1978
This is the last free day for me, after three months of relative insouciance. During August, my family and I spent twenty days of vacations in Spain on my father's ship; nice, amusing holidays which I deserved after a horrible school year. We even had the chance of watching live bullfighting! It was very interesting, yet I was astonished to find out that the whole thing was a foul play. All six bulls were obviously sedated. Especially the first one could hardly walk. The matador's victory is preordained. The bull doesn't have the slightest chance of surviving the successive, coordinated blows of the bullfighters. I don't know why, but I identified myself with the bulls...
Unfortunately, schools are starting again tomorrow. Why do I have to return to that bedlam? I had a wonderful time in the summer, and I'm not at all in the mood for meeting all those rascals again. How shall I face all those hateful persons?
Chapter 11: Class A Lyceum