This afternoon I went in to see Mr. W. about my book report outline and Vincent was there! I like him! He's so smart and cute and so tall and -- um, um! I like him!
I had 3 tests today: History (BAD), English (GOOD) and Biology (BAD). I've got to start paying attention!
Ah! Vince talked to me! I hope he likes me! If I only knew how to be popular like other girls. I WISH I DID!
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I wish I had a 1964 nickel for every exclamation point in my diary. I'd be rich today.
Mr. W. was a much-feared teacher, a sarcastic wit who could be brilliant and flattering but then put you down in front of the whole class for the sake of a laugh. I heard that he later found another line of work. Good move.
I have googled Vincent recently and he's a physician doing cell research, specializing in leukemia. When I noticed him he was a transfer student from a prep school.(Rumor had it he had been kicked out, which gave him an especially attractive badboy image.)
It makes me cringe to think how desperate I was for love and acceptance. So much of my high school years were spent on the social margins.
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