The Diary of a Young Girl Read Online Free Page A

to promise to be home by ten to eight in the future. I’ve been asked to Hello’s on Saturday.
    Wilma told me that one night when Hello was at her house, she asked him, “Who do you like best, Ursul or Anne?”
    He said, “It’s none of your business.”
    But as he was leaving (they hadn’t talked to each other the rest of the evening), he said, “Well, I like Anne better, but don’t tell anyone. Bye!” And whoosh … he was out the door.
    In everything he says or does, I can see that Hello is in love with me, and it’s kind of nice for a change. Margot would say that Hello is a decent sort. I think so too, but he’s more than that. Mother is also full of praise: “A good-looking boy. Nice and polite.” I’m glad he’s so popular with everyone. Except with my girlfriends. He thinks they’re very childish, and he’s right about that. Jacque still teases me about him, but I’m not in love with him. Not really. It’s all right for me to have boys as friends. Nobody minds.
    Mother is always asking me who I’m going to marry when I grow up, but I bet she’ll never guess it’s Peter, because I talked her out of that idea myself, without batting an eyelash. I love Peter as I’ve never loved anyone, and I tell myself he’s only going around with all those other girls to hide his feelings for me. Maybe he thinks Hello and I are in love with each other, which we’re not. He’s just a friend, or as Mother puts it, a beau.
    Yours, Anne
    S UNDAY , J ULY 5, 1942
    Dear Kitty
,
    The graduation ceremony in the Jewish Theater on Friday went as expected. My report card wasn’t too bad. I got one D, a C—in algebra and all the rest B’s, except for two B+’s and two B—’s. My parents are pleased, but they’re not like other parents when it comes to grades. They never worry about report cards, good or bad. As long as I’m healthy and happy and don’t talk back too much, they’re satisfied. If these three things are all right, everything else will take care of itself.
    I’m just the opposite. I don’t want to be a poor student. I was accepted to the Jewish Lyceum on a conditional basis. I was supposed to stay in the seventh grade at the Montessori School, but when Jewish children were required to go to Jewish schools, Mr. Elte finally agreed, after a great deal of persuasion, to accept Lies Goslar and me. Lies also passed this year, though she has to repeat her geometry exam.
    Poor Lies. It isn’t easy for her to study at home; her baby sister, a spoiled little two-year-old, plays in her room all day. If Gabi doesn’t get her way, she starts screaming, and if Lies doesn’t look after her, Mrs. Goslar starts screaming. So Lies has a hard time doing her homework, and as long as that’s the case, the tutoring she’s been getting won’t help much. The Goslar household is really a sight. Mrs. Goslar’s parents live next door, but eat with the family. Then there’s a hired girl, the baby, the always absentminded and absent Mr. Goslar and the always nervous and irritable Mrs. Goslar, who’s expecting another baby. Lies, who’s all thumbs, gets lost in the mayhem.
    My sister Margot has also gotten her report card.Brilliant, as usual. If we had such a thing as “cum laude,” she would have passed with honors, she’s so smart.
    Father has been home a lot lately. There’s nothing for him to do at the office; it must be awful to feel you’re not needed. Mr. Kleiman has taken over Opekta, and Mr. Kugler, Gies & Co., the company dealing in spices and spice substitutes that was set up in 1941.
    A few days ago, as we were taking a stroll around our neighborhood square, Father began to talk about going into hiding. He said it would be very hard for us to live cut off from the rest of the world. I asked him why he was bringing this up now.
    “Well, Anne,” he replied, “you know that for more than a year we’ve been bringing clothes, food and furniture to other people. We don’t want our belongings to be