My School Diary #1

Friday, 1/9/2017

Dear Diary,

Most people get really nervous and worried but also excited on their first day of school. I was no exception, especially since I was starting a new school.

I often wonder why Mum and Dad gave me the name Alan Lagding. This is not, in my opinion, a very pretty name for a girl, though I've long gotten used to it. I thought this would affect how people treat me in class. I was afraid that someone would bully me because of my name. After all, that was what often happened in the lower school; people were petty. Extremely petty. I'd like to think I'm not, but who knows? You're the one who gets the final say on who you are but you can't control how others think of you...you can only hopefully convince them. Anyway, I explained this to Mum and begged her to let me use a different name in school or change my name altogether, but she said no. She said I should be proud of my name because it was who I was.

I sort of get that now.

This very morning, I was sipping cereal with milk, using a spoon to shove the pieces unceremoniously up my mouth. Mum and Dad were in the kitchen talking about work and some newspaper article they read yesterday. I was obviously not paying attention because 1, I didn't know what they were talking about (duh, I hate newspapers) and 2, I was much too nervous about getting on the bus.

I heard the sound of an engine on our street and peering out the window, I saw the telltale orange of the school bus. Bidding Mum and Dad goodbye, I slipped out from the back garden, grabbing my bag (already packed with a lunch, water bottle, school supplies, textbooks, and PE uniform, awaiting in front of the back door). The damp grass crunched underneath my feet, still damp from the sprinkling last night, not to mention it was drizzling.

I was one of the two people that boarded the bus from our street. I wasn't really looking at the other girl who boarded the bus, paying more attention to the general atmosphere inside. It felt, physically, like a sterilised air-conditioned room with cotton seats and a narrow walkway. The decently dry air was a big contrast from the moisture that was practically clinging on my skin from the drizzle outside and I welcomed it. It was bursting with a warm chatter of children, reuniting with old friends, playing games, welcoming new ones getting in the bus.

I heard snippets of conversation surrounding me. "What did you do on your summer break?" was a popular one. So was "What's your name?". I also heard a group of girls talking about Minecraft in the corner and some boys playing tic tac toe on a notebook that was dangled on one of the boy's laps.

I finally took the time to tail the girl who lived on the same street as me. I followed her hair to her face and when I looked at her, my mood fell, dramatically, as I might as well add. What were the chances? I don't want to mention her name, but I will in a bit. I also wished with all my heart that we could stay apart and just pretend the other didn't exist, though I got the opposite of that, but we'll talk about it later.

Who is she? She was the only person I knew and was also my sworn enemy. Shocker. I know.

At the front of my classroom door (4BD), I swallowed. This is it. I was going to be in control of how people saw me, I told myself. I would make friends. This is it, indeed. I took a deep breath and went inside. I scanned the list of students posted on the door, visible as soon as someone passed the door, and my heart sunk to my stomach in dread. Great. Brilliant. Guess why? Anyone? Look at the previous two paragraphs. Make another guess? It was just as I feared. Right next to my name was her's. She was in the same class as me. Duh.

I can't hide the truth now, I suppose. One way or another, you'll know. I'd like to not dwell in the past, considering I want to think we can be friends, now (you'll see why a bit later), but I suppose this is unavoidable. I'll have to tell you her name and who she is and why I hated her so much, anyway.

Her name is Lucy Filir. She was born a month or so earlier than me. The moment she was born, her parents spoiled her. They would carter to her every whim. If she didn't have a toy and I had it? Mr Filir would buy it immediately the next day from the toy shop. If she wanted boiled sweets but there weren't any? Mrs Filir would go out and buy some from the nearest stall. Mr and Mrs Filir were best friends with Mum and Dad. Emphasis on were. Past tense.

They met in some kind of rich and fancy group meeting and they talked about everything, relying on each other as political supports. The problem was since Mr and Mrs Filir gave their daughter everything she wants and as she wants pretty much everything, they soon grew quite poor and could no longer afford to spoil their daughter like before, and she made a big fuss about it, too.

Feeling pressured by his daughter, Mr Filir begged for some money from Mum and Dad, vowing to return it in 2 years. I was 5, then. I'm 9 now. That's 4 years passed if you can't do the maths yourself. Double the amount of time they agreed to. Of course, they said yes because they thought friendship was worth a bit of extra effort, and also more than a bit of gold. "2 years," Dad had told them firmly. "If you need us to extend it, please ask first," Mum had added, gently.

Two years later, Mr Filir mysteriously cut contact (I can't imagine why?) with Mum and Dad. The Filir's never returned the money. "We're not angry because of the money lost, Love," Mum had told me. "We can earn that back. We're angry because they broke our trust." I quite agreed. Our family's loss – all because of her. Lucy. So, now you know.

I sat at the front of the classroom (as usual) and prayed with all my being that she doesn't notice I'm here and try to talk to me. Fat chance, my brain taunted me. You're sitting at the front of the classroom, right next to the door. She totally won't notice you, Alan. Really subtle, you were. At least, I can only hope that she doesn't want to talk to me either, I reasoned. At least, I thought she was ashamed about before. I would be if I were her. Luckily I'm not. Phew...

Unfortunately, she walked down the aisle, heading straight for my desk. I remember what she said to me like it's flashing before my eyes this very moment. "Hi, Alan. I'm really sorry about what happened before between Mr and Mrs Lagding and my parents. It was all my fault; I was so foolish, then! I know you probably don't want to be my friend, but I'm hoping we can start over. I'm Lucy Filir."

I considered her offer and apology, but mostly her apology. My parents and hers will probably not like this new arrangement, but ought not we try to make peace, end this? "I'm Alan Lagding," I said, shaking her hand firmly. Her hand was warm to the touch. "Nice to meet you, Lucy Filir."

Maybe today wasn't such a bad day, after all. And when Mum asked me how my first day was? I told her it was awesome.

- Alan Jennifer Lagding