Chapter 8

It's also possible that this was my way of coping with jealousy and hatred and suppressing those emotions, or that it was a disguise for my low self-esteem and perceived charm. Of course, I easily put up with Leila's dominance and her bullying.

Beyond that, the teacher's attitude was evident; she did often sit Leila next to her, but she seemed to do so not to reward her, but to keep her in line. The teacher continued to praise Marisa Sartore, Carmela Peluso, and especially me. Her praise made me feel like I was shining, becoming more disciplined, diligent, and perceptive. When Lila was not being disruptive, she would easily pass me, and Ms. Oliviero would praise me first in a more restrained manner, and then would praise Lila. I think I would feel very frustrated if Sartore and Peluso passed me, but if Lila passed me, I would accept it in silence. During those years, my greatest fear was that I would not be ranked with Lila in the grade set by Ms. Oliviero and that she would no longer say with pride that Cerullo and Greco were the best. If she had said one day that Cerullo and Sartore were the best in the class, or Cerullo and Peluso, I would have died on the spot. So I tried with all my might, not to be first - which I didn't think I could do at the time - but not fall to third, fourth, or last place. I studied extra hard, and I threw myself into a lot of hard things besides studying, things that were far away from me, just to keep up with that girl, that awful, dazzling girl.

Leila was dazzling to me, to the rest of the class she was just awful. From first grade to fifth grade, because of the principal - Ms. Oliviero was also a factor - Leila was the most hated girl in the entire school, if not the entire city.

The principal would have each class compete, at least twice a year, so that the best students, and the best teachers, could be chosen. Ms. Oliviero loved these competitions the most because she was always at odds with her other colleagues, sometimes to the point of fighting. The teacher used Lila and me as weapons to prove that she was great and that she was the best elementary school teacher in our urban area. So she used to bring us to other classes and have competitions with other kids, both in the boys' class and in the girls' class, sometimes at the principal's will. I was usually the front-runner, probing the strength of my opponents, and I usually won, but not in an exaggerated way that would make the other teachers and students feel ashamed. In those days I was a pretty little blonde girl with braids, happy to express myself, but not reckless, I was literate and inviting. I was the best at reciting poems and mnemonic lists, doing multiplication and division operations, and listing the names of Alpine peaks. If I won, the other teachers stroked my head and the students could sense that I had worked hard to recite those things, so they didn't hate me.

It was a different story with Leila. In first grade, she was unbeatable. The teacher said that if she worked harder, she could take the second-grade test directly, and at less than seven years old, she could skip a grade to the third grade. After that, the gulf between us grew wider and wider. Leila could do complex math problems mentally; she could dictate without making a single mistake; she always spoke in dialect, like everyone else, but if needed, she spoke written Italian, sometimes using difficult words - like "cumulative", "lush ", "flourish", "delight". Whenever the teacher put her on the floor to compete in verb tenses and conjugations, or to do math problems, it was simply impossible for everyone to compete calmly, and there was usually a flurry of emotion. Lila was too strong for anyone and she would have no problem winning big. For those of us who acknowledged her invincibility, it was an admission that we would never be able to keep up with her and the competition would be useless; for the teachers, it meant that we were very mediocre students. Leila's mind reacted so quickly, she could catch very subtle things and deliver the killing blow, and she was always bold and sharp. She always wore messy and dirty clothes, and she always had scars on her elbows and knees, adding new ones before the old ones had healed. Her big eyes are very flexible, always narrowed to a slit before giving a brilliant answer, and her gaze is not at all childish, it can be said to be a bit inhuman. Every move she makes says one thing: it's no use hurting her, and no matter what, she will return the favor.

The hatred for Leila is palpable to everyone, and I can perceive it too: both boys and girls hate her, but the boys show it more obviously. There was a hidden reason why Ms. Oliviero liked to bring us to the other girls' classes to frustrate the female teachers and students. Her favorite thing was to take us to the boys' classes to frustrate the male teachers and students. For some unknown reason, our principal was very supportive of the latter kind of competition. It even occurred to me that the teachers at the school had money on our contest, probably with high chips, but I could be exaggerating, and it could just be a cathartic way to break that deadly atmosphere; or for the principal to stomp on teachers who weren't competent or obedient enough. What happened was that one morning when we were in second grade, Ms. Oliviero took us to a fourth-grade class that Ms. Ferraro taught, and Enzo Scanno, the naughty son of the woman who sold vegetables, was in that class, along with Marisa's brother, Nino Sartore - the boy I liked.

All of us knew Enzo because he was an old repetitive student. On several occasions, he wore a sign around his neck on which Mrs. Ferraro had written "Donkey" and he was dragged through the classrooms by his teacher. Mr. Ferraro had white hair, a slab cut, a tall, thin man with a small, wrinkled face and a sharp gaze. Nino, on the other hand, was a very good boy, gentle and quiet, and also very famous, and I liked him a lot. Of course, Enzo was negative marks in their studies, and we all avoided him because he loved to beat people up. Our rival in academics was Nino, and we found another rival there - Alfonso Carracci, the third child of Don Achille, very neat, who was a second grader like us, but he looked younger than his actual age of seven. The fact that Mr. Ferraro had called him in as well showed that he looked more favorably on Alfonso than on Nino, even though Nino was two years older.

There was no appointment to call Alfonso, which caused a dispute between Oliviero and Ferraro, but in the end, we combined several classes and we all played in a large classroom. The teacher quizzed us on verb conjugation, multiplication mnemonics, and the four operations, first on the board, and later on mental arithmetic. Three things struck me very much about that competition at that time: the first was how quickly Alfonso Carracci overtook me, so unhurried and precise that he didn't get carried away even when he beat you; the second was Nino Sartore, who, amazingly, barely answered the questions; he looked confused as if he couldn't understand the two teachers' questions, and the third was how Lilla seemed reluctant The third thing was that Lila seemed reluctant to compete with Don Achille's son as if she didn't care whether she could win him or not. When it came time for mental arithmetic, the competition became intense: addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Although Lila was not very active, sometimes she did not answer as if she did not hear the questions, Alfonso started to make mistakes, especially in multiplication and division. This way, if Don Achille's son loses, then Lila is no better and they are tied. But then there was an accident. Twice when Lila didn't answer, or Alfonso miscalculated, everyone could hear the contempt-filled voice of Enzo Scanno, who sat at the back of the classroom and shouted out the correct answer.

This amazed the students, the teacher, the principal, Lila, and me: How could a lazy, average qualified, and rascally student like Enzo be better at mental arithmetic than me, Alfonso, and Nino? Suddenly, Leila seemed to wake up, and Alfonso was soon out of the game. Under the teacher's approving gaze, Lila and Enzo began to duel.

Enzo and Lila were neck and neck, and the score was tied for a long time. Suddenly, the principal crossed the teacher and called Enzo, the son of the woman selling vegetables, to the blackboard and made him stand next to Leila. Enzo gave a dry smile to a few of his minions, a little nervous, and he came to the blackboard and stood opposite Leila, grim and uncomfortable. He and Leela were still comparing mental arithmetic, with increasing difficulty. Enzo said the answers in dialect as if he were not in the classroom but on the street, and the teacher would correct him, but the answers were always right. Enzo seemed to be winning and he was very proud and seemed to be amazed at his ability. Then he started to miss, and Leila seemed to wake up completely at the last minute, with her eyes narrowed and very determined, and her answers very accurate. Enzo finally loses, but he doesn't admit defeat and starts cursing and shouting a lot of profanities. The teacher told him to go kneel behind the blackboard, but he wouldn't go. The teacher hit him on the head with the whip, tugged him by the ear, and pulled him to the corner where the students were punished. That was the end of the school day. From that point on, the group of boys started throwing stones at us.