We had reading at school again in the afternoon. I like it. I do not know the children in my reading group and many mothers are present to assist. I like to walk through the school. I am not in a classroom yet because there are too many children. I wonder what school will do or perhaps the children leave? The other children in the same grade I never meet. I still wish I had that teacher, the teacher that belongs to the school. I only visit that classroom on Sunday's. The Sunday school teacher uses it. Through the window, I can see the house of the bully and it's a mother. At the end of that row are a small lane and our backyard. To join the reading group I need to cross a big hall and climb two stairs. All classes are upstairs except the first and second grade, the principal's office, and the coffeeroom of the teachers and the auditorium. That's where my class is now. Attached to our auditorium is the other school. The schools can use both if they celebrate something. We do not celebrate much, not with parents only December 5th and Christmas. Christmas is the best with the school's own orchestra and chorus. A teacher tells a story while the lights are switched off. There are candles and hot chocolate and cookies. Each child receives a book, orange, and chocolate.
At home, it was not okay. My mother is furious and the pale girl leaves. She packed her things and my mother brought her to the train station. I don't understand what the fight is about and I don't want to know it. I took my shoes off, stood in the kitchen, and waited. I always wait because no matter what I do it's always wrong and a reason to scold at me. This time she isn't angry with me but it doesn't matter. Angry means angry and she will punish me for it.
She did punish me. She said I could make tea while she left. I fed the dogs as well. Bread and a raw egg because it's Friday. I had to climb on the working place to get their vitamins. It is a white powder. I hope they won't choke in it or it makes them sneeze. What makes people think dogs and cats like to eat powder? It doesn't smell nice. I took a cookie out of the pot on the kitchen table and cleaned up everything. I checked the dishwasher too because my mother will hate it if it's filled with dirty dishes. I carefully walked through the house at my toes. I didn't touch anything, just checked if everything is at its place just like she does. The curtains in the right way around the corners, everything at the right place. I took a cloth with me to wipe off the dust and check the fingerprints, I did the doorknobs too.
The answering machine played and I heard someone leave a message. The house looked fine just fine. Everything clean and straight just like she wants it.
I put the sheets back from the laundry in the closet. They are all white and folded in the same way and the same size. All sheets need to be in the closet in the same way. The corner to the right and the whole stack needs to be straight, in one line. I did my best I really did but she saw the difference. She saw it, kept pointing at it, and scolding at me. No! I do not see the difference and I do not want to get the dog leash. I helped her. I did her job and she's still angry with me. Why?! She kept beating me with the leather leash and threw all the sheets out of the closet. I had to clean up the mess I made. What mess? She did it! I saw her do it but I cannot say it because if she hits me even more.
She left me with the mess she made. I heard her making phone calls. She always does that, blame me. She will blame me for that pale girl who left too. The girl who never spoke to me. I was at school, I didn't spend time with her, I didn't share my room with her but I am the bad person here. I didn't leave only tried to help her. She calls her mother, my aunt, everyone, and tells them what I did. What the child with the crinkle in her head did. After that, they call each other and next to my mother again. They keep calling, calling, calling. Next, they scold at me through the phone. They do not ask me what happened. They are adults and I do not care if they are afraid of my mother. They should ask me, help me but they don't care if my mother beats me up. They don't care because no one does it to them. As my dad was back home she told him, told him what I did..."don't you see what that child did", she said. He didn't because he wasn't at home but he did because she told him.
She is right he isn't a real man.
Friday
October 2, 2020
A kid's diary
Writing an essay
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/writing-an-essay-f6323dad
A good day
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/a-good-day-da1d9e8f
Homesick
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/homesick-2fac0272
Brilliant