The Winnie Cooper Diaries

September 4, 1968

5:45 am

I feel like today is a day that is going to change my life forever.

It's the first day of seventh grade and I've been up since four AM because I'm so nervous. I don't have to leave for the bus stop for another two hours. I guess I might as well use one of the ten composition books mom bought me for school and get some of this stuff out of my head.

I wish Brian was here. He's always so calm and cool about everything. Even the day he had to leave for Vietnam and mom was crying and I kind of was too, he just hugged us and told us not to worry. If he can be so strong about going halfway across the world (or wherever Vietnam is), then I can be okay about the first day of seventh grade. Right?

I think the reason why I'm so nervous is that I've decided I want to re-invent myself this year. No more little Winnie Cooper with her pigtails and cat eye glasses and tomboyish clothes. No way. I'm practically a grown up now. I've been doing extra chores all summer to save up enough money for some new clothes. Two weeks ago, Mom took me shopping at Macy's for a perfect first day of school outfit. Then, as a surprise, she took me to get contacts! It's weird, it's like my whole face is different without the glasses. Like you can actually see me, or something.

I decided to save the contacts and new clothes for today, though. The first day of seventh grade. The first day of the rest of my life! My glasses-free face is ready for the world, along with my shorter-than-my-dad-likes yellow skirt, pink shirt with three quarter yellow sleeves, and tall white boots. And I'm letting my hair down – literally. I'm never going to let mom braid it ever again. It's fine just the way it is – super long, brown, and naturally pin straight, with bangs cut bluntly across my forehead. That's me. Winnie Cooper.

Ugh, I keep forgetting! GWENDOLYN Cooper. Winnie is such a silly name! Why did Brian have to start calling me that? "Gwendolyn is such a big name for such a little girl," he told me once. I guess when I was a baby and he was seven, Gwendolyn was a mouthful. And then the name just stuck. But I'm not a little girl anymore.

I wonder what Kevin and Paul will say when they see me at the bus stop. I hope they don't laugh at me! We've all known each other forever and they've never seen me without my glasses, or dressed in anything other than jeans or overalls. Except maybe on Sundays, we go to church sometimes – but my new clothes are definitely not church clothes! Ugh, I hope Kevin's brother Wayne doesn't make a big deal of it. Wayne is the worst! Somehow I ended up with the best big brother in the world, and Kevin ended up with the worst. Brian likes to look out for me, and Wayne loves to torture Kevin. Sometimes I feel so bad for him.

… actually, I think I'm starting to feel a whole lot of things about Kevin, and it kind of scares me. Because I know he doesn't feel that way about me. I don't even know when it all started, my weirdness about him. Maybe that day at the beginning of summer, when Brian was still here. The neighborhood boys were all out in the street playing football, and all us girls were just standing around and jumping rope and pretending not to watch the boys. Wayne threw the ball and Kevin totally fumbled it, it was a little embarrassing. Especially in front of all us girls.

The ball rolled to my feet and I picked it up. "It was a pretty hard pass," I offered, handing the ball back to him. Behind me, I could hear all of my girlfriends giggling. Traitors.

"Well, yeah," he said a little awkwardly. I could almost see the gears in his head turning as he tried to come up with some sort of explanation. "I think it had sort of a reverse spin on it," he shrugged.

"Come on, Kevin, stop gabbing with your girlfriend," Wayne yelled triumphantly.

I just rolled my eyes, but then Kevin started acting really offended. "She's not my girlfriend," Kevin insisted, a little too indignantly for my liking.

I wasn't, but why did he have to go and say it like that? I crossed my arms tighter around me as the girls resumed jumping rope behind me.

Then something terrible happened. I started to think, what if I was his girlfriend? Then what?

Next thing I knew, Wayne was yelling at us, "Hey girls, come over here, Kevin's going to show you what a French kiss is!" And that put the image in my mind of Kevin actually showing me what a French kiss is. I didn't even particularly want to think of that at that moment, but the vision came and I couldn't stop it.

Then Wayne tackled Kevin and started beating him up for no apparent reason. Most of the guys just stood there and watched, but Paul tried to stop him at least. Wayne just ignored him and continued his beating.

"Hey Wayne! Knock it off before I do the same thing to you!"

Finally, a voice of reason. My brother, who stopped working on his 1959 El Camino long enough to come to Kevin's rescue and smoke a cigarette.

There must be something authoritative about my brother, because Wayne listened to him. I think Wayne just wishes he was as cool as Brian. A lot of people wish they were as cool as Brian. But to me, he's just my big brother.

I walked up to him and said, "Thanks."

He exhaled some smoke, squeezed my shoulder, and said, "No big deal, Win."

I looked over at Wayne and Kevin again, making a visor with my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. "I just don't get why he has to act like that." At this point, I could have been talking about either brother.

"Because he feels small and like he has to prove himself," Brian replied. Again, I wasn't entirely sure which brother we were referring to. Brian touched my shoulder again protectively. "You'll be okay, kid," he stated.

"I'm not a kid," I responded automatically, flipping my pigtail over my shoulder.

"I know. Want to hang out for a bit?"

"Yeah," I said, and watched him while he continued working on his car, handing him a tool occasionally. If we hadn't both known he was leaving soon, he might not have asked me, or I might not have said yes.

Brian left at the end of June. We get letters from him sometimes. They don't say much – he's not much of a writer. And actually, we haven't heard from him in awhile. Mom's praying he'll be home for Christmas.

The rest of the summer passed very much like that day, except that Brian wasn't there to keep Wayne in check. I had spent so many long, hot days sitting out on the front curb with a friend, or two, or three, while the boys played football or baseball or whateverball in the street. Sometimes the ball just happened to end up close to me and my friends, and Kevin would always be the one to come retrieve it. I'd always pick it up for him, even though he could have just as easily gotten it himself. I'd hand it to him with a smile, and he would smile back. And I would just kind of shake my head. If we were lucky, Wayne wouldn't terrorize us for this little exchange.

The alarm just went off. I'd better start getting ready for the rest of my life – I mean school.