I studied first and second grade in a school, from which, many years later, to my great surprise, I would find out that they called it “the school of witches”. At that time (in the first year I was seven years old) the school was for me like any other, but today, remembering it, I realize that people were right to call it that. It was the typical house with two or three pointed roofs, like an inverted “v”, very sharp. The floor was made of wood and it creaked when you walked on it. The noise we made when we went out to recess was deafening. The school no longer exists. It was demolished to make way for more modern buildings.

My school was mixed, that is, it was for girls and boys. In first there were several girls, one of whom I liked. Her name was or is Betty; I haven’t heard from her again. But I wasn’t the only one who liked her. My friend Lema (it’s his last name; I never knew his name) was also attracted to her. In second grade there were only two girls in our room and they sat together, in the front seat: Betty and Ana.

One afternoon, already in second grade, when we left school we decided to follow Betty, to see where she lived. Surely as spies we would have starved to death, because she realized we were following her. Her house was not very far from the school, about three blocks or so. Finally, she turned to the left and when she arrived at her house, she could see her older brother (approximately fifteen years old), who was at the door and Betty, very annoyed, signaled to him that we we were following her.

Realizing that the brother was coming towards us, we began to run as we had never done before. Lema and I had a good run and we ran and ran for at least two blocks. For us it was as if we were running for our lives. Finally, we stopped and turned to see if the brother was following us, but the street was deserted. There was no one. Calmer now, each of us went to our homes.

What did catch my attention is that pretty Betty lived in a very, very poor house, it was almost a shack. Although this did not put us off at all. She still liked us.

On another occasion, I don’t remember well, I must have been following her again, but this time I was alone and she wasn’t going to her house directly; let’s say she was walking around her neighborhood. What I do remember perfectly is that, suddenly, Betty and other girls her age appeared in front of me; They were very upset, you could see the anger on their faces and they started hitting me. The blows didn’t hurt but I was absolutely amazed that they did that to me. It was something that did not fit in my head; I imagined them as sweet and innocent.

Fortunately, just then a group of older boys appeared, also from my school, probably fourth or fifth grade. Seeing them, the girls started running scared. The boys yelled at them, very upset too and not content with making them run away, they started throwing stones at them. Passing by my side, one of them told me: “Go home, be careful.”

In class, neither Lema nor I ever talk to Betty; we were very shy. I remember that once, when the teacher hadn’t arrived yet, we approached the girls and talked to them, but in reality it was Ana who was talking; she was more talkative and Betty more quiet.