September 1st

Surely I can do this. I can do this! I've been homeschooled all my life, and now, I'm going to high school for the first time – in my life. I'm a sophomore, not a freshman, so being new will be quite strange and will most certainly feel weird.

Papa insisted on doing this, and I agreed – not just because he wanted me to do this, but because… I don't know many people of my age. At the convent I was always the shy one, I was never popular – I think I read a book that called people like this "Wallflowers", but I prefer "shy". I've concluded that I am not pretty enough for anything, and that's why I'm not popular.

If using the internet for so many years (even though it was banned in the convent, Papa let me use it even then – at his room when I visited him!) has taught me anything, it's that I have to be confident in me. That's what Wikihow said, but I don't think Wikihow understands me that much, my situation seems rather rare.

I wonder what the kids will think of me… will they like me? Will they want to play with me? I am fifteen, and I have barely any friends – well, there's Eva, from the convent, but she left a year before I did and we e-mail each other quite often (turns out she is at a private school now, which is funny because it's so similar to the convent!), but we're not close friends anymore! I also thought that she might've been embarrassed to be with me because I'm not pretty. Oh well, I'm homely, that's alright!

Papa got me this diary so I can write about my feelings – being at a public school is hard, according to him, and I might not cope with it well!

I'm going to leave for school now, but I'll take you with me. I think there's a lunchbreak – I'll probably have lunch alone, so I could write in you about anything.

12:00 – Oh my god! This is terrifying! I know I shouldn't be afraid of anything, I should be fearless and do better than my best, but still…

In English, I sat next to a boy who didn't spare a second look at me – his hair was sandy, and he had almond-shaped green eyes. I don't think he likes me very much; but he was the only one without anyone sitting with him! I enjoyed the class and I got a proper greeting by a lot of the kids, but none of them really care about me now. Oh, how I miss Papa! Perhaps I should text him? Or Toussaint? But Toussaint doesn't know how to read messages or text anyone yet… hmm… Papa has an IPhone, but I have a Samsung – with a touch screen, of course!

In P.E. I was shocked because I had to change into shorts and generally athletic clothing and I felt uncomfortable – I am so clumsy, I got hit in the head twice on the course of fifty minutes! Perhaps I'll get the hang of it.

Math was fine at first – I sat next to a girl with reddish brown hair, blue eyes and a cold, odd stare – her skin was strange, too. She seems like a nice person, but rather mean, at the same time. I think the teacher called her Eponine – Eponine something… She looked like she knew everything about the world, like she had a lot of experience in everything. Her phone is red, and very old, and I think it's her mother's old phone – or her father's, but it looks like more of a phone a woman would own. We exchanged only but a few words, but her voice is raspy, and low. I might have annoyed her.

Anyway, back to Math – I don't like it! I really don't! But Dad would say, "You can do it – there isn't anything you can't do!" He strives for me to be perfect.

I'm observing the kids who are having lunch now – an hour of just eating, the whole school together. There must be over 2,000 pupils in this school – how peculiar! There was 100 of us in the convent.

I wonder how they can all fit in the cafeteria. I have my own table – it's small and far from the rest, but it's mine, I guess. I'm sitting alone…

In the table closest to me, a large group of boys are sitting – including the boy who probably deemed me boring during English. The others are very peculiar – there's a boy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and one of the handsomest young men I've ever seen; he was probably a senior, I think. Next to him, was another boy that seemed strange – his nose was stuck in a book, much like me in the convent. He had brown hair that was slightly longer than average, presumably brown eyes, and was just as tall as the blonde boy. He seemed bookish, and smart, and not surprisingly, very likable to me. After that, was a clearly radiant, flamboyant young man, with a striking appearance. Radiant blue eyes, slightly tanned skin, and soft-looking brown hair. He looks so… full of himself, popular, yet nice. A weird combination! Next to him is the boy from English, and after that is a boy who looks like a senior, with pitch-black hair and eyes, tanned skin and a funny face. He looked… drunk! Papa told me drunk people are not good and warned me to not ever drink (I think he first talked to me about this when I was 9) so I won't. Oh, two boys just joined them – the first one has very light brown hair, light eyes and he looks like he came out of those old 18th century portraits of young men. Next to him, the last one, is… oh! He was round, beautiful eyes, lips not too full yet not too thin, and he seems a little bit shorter than the rest. Perhaps he is a senior too, because the look on his face shows maturity, and wisdom. He seems shy, and collected; and rather clumsy! In his own, cute way. I think he's cute. I don't think I could be friends with any of those strange boys, because I'm not a blonde cheerleader or a popular girl, so that's out of the question.

Ooh, the bell just rang, I have to head to class now.

4.15 – Oh, how I ran! The bus driver that is driving some of the students home, didn't let me out at my bus stop, and I was slightly upset, but then I ran all the way home, laughing because I had forgotten how much I enjoy running for fun – I would never do anything that takes the fun out of running. I also cut out a small flower for Toussaint, to show her my love. She's been so helpful in the past few months!

I had fun in school, though I was scared, and I didn't make any new friends. I'm worried! I share the same bus as the boy from English and as the 18th century boy – they were chatting vividly about poems and medicine which confused me – it appears that the 18th century boy thinks he has pneumonia while the other one was making up poems to make the hypochondriac relax…

I noticed that most girls here dress… immodestly. I honestly would never wear anything above knee-length, not just because it makes me feel uncomfortable, but because I feel immodest. They also have all dyed their hair blonde or red, in unnatural colors which do not suit them. How peculiar! I think I'll keep my natural brown hair; I don't want to be fake.