THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

Yours, Anne
TUESDAY, MARCH 28, 1944
My dearest Kitty,
As much as I'd like to write more on politics, I have lots of other news to report
today. First, Mother has virtually forbidden me to go up to Peter's, since,
according to her, Mrs. van Daan is jealous. Second, Peter's invited Margot to join
us upstairs. Whether he really means it or is just saying it out of politeness, I
don't know. Third, I asked Father if he thought I should take any notice of Mrs.
van Daan's jealousy and he said I didn't have to.
What should I do now? Mother's angry, doesn't want me going upstairs, wants me to
go back to doing my homework in the room I share willi Dussel. She may be jealous
herself. Father doesn't begrudge us those few hours and thinks it's nice we get
along so well. Margot likes Peter too, but feels that three people can't talk
about the same things as two.
Furthermore, Mother thinks Peter's in love with me. To tell you the truth, I wish
he were. Then we'd be even, and it'd be a lot easier to get to know each other.
She also claims he's always looking at me. Well, I suppose we do give each other
the occasional wink. But I can't help it if he keeps admiring my dimples, can I?
I'm in a very difficult position. Mother's against me and I'm against her. Father
turns a blind eye to the silent struggle between Mother and me. Mother is sad,
because she still loves me, but I'm not at all unhappy, because she no longer
means anything to me.
As for Peter. . . I don't want to give him up. He's so sweet and I admire him so
much. He and I could have a really beautiful relationship, so why are the old
folks poking their noses into our business again? Fortu- nately, I'm used to
hiding my feelings, so I manage not to show how crazy I am about him. Is he ever
going to say anything? Am I ever going to feel his cheek against mine, the way I
felt Petel's cheek in my dream? Oh, Peter and
Petel, you're one and the same! They don't understand us; they'd never understand
that we're content just to sit beside each other and not say a word. They have no
idea of what draws us together! Oh, when will we overcome all these difficulties?
And yet it's good that we have to surmount them, since it makes the end that much
more beautiful. When he lays his head on his arms and closes his eyes, he's still
a child; when he plays with Mouschi or talks about her, he's loving; when he
carries the potatoes or other heavy loads, he's strong; when he goes to watch the
gunfire or walks through the dark house to look for burglars, he's brave; and when
he's so awkward and clumsy, he's hopelessly endearing. It's much nicer when he
explains something to me than when I have to teach him. I wish he were superior to
me in nearly every way!
What do we care about our two mothers? Oh, if only he'd say something.
Father always says I'm conceited, but I'm not, I'm merely vain! I haven't had many
people tell me I was pretty, except for a boy at school who said I looked so cute
when I smiled. Yesterday Peter paid me a true com- pliment, and just for fun I'll
give you a rough idea of our conversation.
Peter often says, "Smile!" I thought it was strange, so yesterday I asked him,
"Why do you always want me to smile?"