Monday, 3rd November 1975
I am a pupil of gymnasium (junior high school) now and I can't say I like it: To me it's still an unknown place, with unknown faces. My old schoolmates are nowhere to see. Alone amongst hundreds of unfamiliar persons, I feel like a fish out of water. My self-confidence seems to be gone. I spent my first month here standing near the stairway for hours, while big parties of children were coming and going all around me, full of joy and liveliness. A few times I attempted to get into a circle and talk with the others, but as soon as I approached everybody got away at once, as if an alarm had sounded.
The only friend I managed to find was Lina, a beautiful, tall girl with long brown hair and good manners. She was very friendly to me and she also introduced me to her party. Yet, it's been a week now that Lina has disappeared from school and her friends have been avoiding me ever since. I will never see her again...
I sit alone at a desk in the left row. Right behind me, there is a corpulent lump sitting, called Nicky. All she does is pester me continuously, so much that I can hardly listen to the lessons. I often complain and tell her to get off my back, but she never lets me be. When I pay no heed to her, she starts hitting me or pushing her desk towards me, like a maniac. Sometimes she squashes me so bad that I can't even breathe.
This morning, during the ancient Greek lesson, she pushed her desk against me so violently that I got a terrible backache and spent the whole hour crying. I wonder, though: The masters here are very strict. If you just whisper to somebody during the lesson, they throw you out of the class immediately. However, Nicky makes a din whenever she pesters me, but the masters never make the slightest remark to her.
Wednesday, 19th November 1975
There are also some boys, who go to the second class; whenever I see them on the way to school, they start screaming like lunatics: “Hey you, nitwit! You walk like a stork, you hen!” Only this morning did I realize they mean me! I can't do anything about it, so I just ignore them. Still I wonder: Why do they have it in for me? I'm nothing but an insignificant pupil of the first class. And another thing: The same boys happen to be my classmates in the English tutorial school, where I go twice a week. They pay absolutely no attention to me there. Isn't this weird?
Friday, 12th December 1975
I was standing alone beside the stairway, as usual, when a group of three girls approached me unexpectedly. They are all in my class, and they are all disabled: one of them suffers from very severe scoliosis, another always wears a collar around her neck, and the third one is on a wheelchair because her left leg is half a metre shorter than her right leg; nevertheless, she is an excellent student.
All three of them are polite and friendly, I am doing my best to go along with them, yet neither this friendship is meant to last: It will end very soon, without any specific reason, in a vague sadness.
Monday, 26th January, 1976
During the breaks I often get pestered by two arrant vixens from a higher class. As far as I have heard, they bother other children too. Obviously, they take pleasure in causing problems to lonely, shy pupils. I, who always stand alone by the stairway, am the ideal victim for them. Almost every day, they come and make fun of me or prick me with a needle.
In the second break today, they suddenly snatched my hair clip and ran away at once. When the bell rang, I dared go into their classroom and inform the mistress in front of everybody. Finally, they were obliged to give me my hair clip back. As I was leaving, I told them ironically: “Many happy returns!” The whole class burst into laughing.
Tuesday, 27th January 1976
However, I was not meant to relish that rare victory for long: This afternoon, right after school, the two termagants happened to get on the same bus as I did. So, they approached me stealthily from behind and snatched my hair clip again. I had to stand up, leave my seat and follow them to the rear of the bus, in order to get my hair clip back. They laughed mockingly and threw it down, close to their feet; I had to bend down in order to pick it up. Once again I felt the bitter taste of humiliation, let alone I lost my seat in the bus.
Wednesday, 11th February 1976
As about the problem “Vlassis”, it still exists and it is getting worse: The psychopath has taken great care of making me famous in the underworld of the city. More often than not, I hear my name being cried out by hoodlums I have never seen before. I have marked out four brothers, who often go around together with Vlassis: Each one of them is taller than the other, but none of them is taller than me; they all have the same nasty, angular, crimson face of a lunatic and whenever they see me they start calling me names: “Yvooooonne! You cameeeeel! You giraaaaaffe!”
I really don't know what's going on around me; as I grow up, the world is becoming more and more insupportable, entirely unsuitable for me. I can hardly bear it any longer, as it's getting too difficult for me to adapt myself to its demands. I often wish I were someone else, someone “clever”, who can cope with life on this planet...
Monday, 1st March 1976
Today my class went on a day trip to Nafplio: I would have had a nice time if I had had company and if the boys sitting behind me hadn't been bothering me all the time. I was greatly surprised when I realized that they were those rogues who usually deride me on the road. But how indeed? They are in a higher class!
Anyway, to my bad luck they were sitting right behind me, constantly hitting my seat and making fun of me with aggressive cries and giggles. I just kept a stiff upper lip and didn't utter a word. There was nothing else to do. I couldn't even change seat, since the coach was chock-full.
Sunday, 14th March 1976
This morning I woke up in a very bad mood. I don't feel like playing on the road with my friends, or doing anything else; maybe because last night I accidentally eavesdropped a certain conversation between my father and his brother, uncle Andrew:
“What are you saying now about Yvonne? Alice is as sharp as a needle, Alice is a fly customer!” said my uncle, full of admiration about my sister.
“Let me tell you,” replied dad. “Alice is cleverer than Yvonne, but Yvonne is a better pupil!”
“Big deal! Alice is better at everything else!”
I felt very sorry and started crying silently in my bed. It was almost midnight and everybody thought I was asleep.
Tuesday, 4th May 1976
As years go by, it gets more and more obvious that Alice is stealing the show from me. According to relatives and friends, she is always the “astute”, the “lively”, the “mincing hussy”, while I am the “quiet”, the “gawky”, the “slowcoach”. The truth is that I am getting taller and thinner: I am 1.67 m tall now, I weigh about 43 kilos and my body still remains entirely childlike.
Once again, this afternoon I heard compliments such as “You, beanpole!” and “Hey you! Lanky camel!” from strangers on the road. Moreover, I understand that pretty soon I will have to give up childhood and street games once for all. I neither want this to happen, nor become a “woman”.
As about Jasmine, she has already turned four. She is still very beautiful, still quadriplegic. She can neither stand, nor sit, nor talk. She can't even say “mum”. However, I don't mind spending hours with her in my lap, every time my parents need to be away from home -that is every day. I like rocking her on my knees, while listening to music for hours. If I leave her on her bed even for five minutes, she bursts into crying. I also accompany my mother to the center for spastic children, where we take Jasmine for kinesitherapy, although it has become obvious that these sessions bring no result at all.
In the evening I asked dad to help me with a maths problem. In the end, he told me bitterly: “I have a problem too: Jasmine has been ill ever since she was born; I have spent more than a million drachmas for her, but she has shown no improvement so far. When will Jasmine be cured?”
Wednesday, 5th May 1976
Something strange happened today at school, during the music lesson: The whole class was singing a song from our book, when suddenly I saw Mr Mantas, our fastidious music master, running towards me.
“Are you singing?” he asked the girl sitting in front of me, then the one next to her. They both answered affirmatively.
Finally, he asked me: “How about you? Are you singing?”
“Yes, I do” I replied.
He glared at me and ordered “Don't sing!”, leaving me dumbfounded. “I heard a dissonance somewhere here”, he explained quickly and returned to his seat at once.
... So, I will never sing with the others in class again. Maybe the master was right about the dissonance, the truth is that I have never been sweet-voiced. Yet, I wonder: There are sixty pupils in my class; only I was so out of tune, that the master had to prohibit me from singing? And he noticed that now, after so many months? What did he fear anyway? That I might spoil the serious concert?
Monday, 12th May 1976
During the music lesson, Mr Mantas called some pupils on the blackboard and told them to do a singing exercise and beat time with their hand as well. He also called Ivy, the star of our class, who admittedly performed very well. Then, it was my turn. I did my best and I sang the piece as melodiously as I could, without making the slightest mistake in the notes or the tempo.
When I finished, I heard the master's verdict: “Alright; but I asked you to sing the notes, not recite them!”
I stayed speechless and motionless for about five minutes. But why? I have the impression that I did fine! I wondered. In the end, I repeated the exercise hesitantly, with a trembling voice.
“Sit now”, said Mr Mantas finally, making a sour face.
Friday, 25th June 1976
I finished the first class with a grade of 16, which is mediocre, not so auspicious for my future. All year long I have been jealous of Ivy, who kept the attendance register and always got a 19 or a 20 in all subjects. During the whole school year, she never took a lower mark, not even an 18, in some minor test.
Strange, though: Indeed she always excelled in all tests and examinations, but she never raised her hand in class and she was seldom asked to say the lesson. And another thing: Ivy kept the attendance register because she had got into gymnasium with a grade of 17.5. However, there were two other pupils who had managed to take an 18. Nevertheless, Ivy was the one who was chosen to take the attendance register…