June 12, 1942I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been ableto confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort andsupport.COMMENT ADDED BY ANNE ON SEPTEMBER 28, 1942: So far youtruly have been a areat source of comfort to me, and so has Kitty, whom Inow write to regularly. This way of keeping a diary is much nicer, and now Ican hardly wait for those moments when I’m able to write in you. Oh, I’m soalad I brought you along!SUNDAY, JUNE 14, 1942I’ll begin from the moment I got you, the moment I saw you lying on the tableamong my other birthday presents. (I went along when you were bought, butthat doesn’t count.) On Friday, June 12, I was awake at six o’clock, whichisn’t surprising, since it was my birthday. But I’m not allowed to get up at thathour, so I had to control my curiosity until quarter to seven. When I couldn’twait any longer, I went to the dining room, where Moortje (the cat)welcomed me by rubbing against my legs.A little after seven I went to Daddy and Mama and then to the living room toopen my presents, and you were the first thing I saw, maybe one of my nicestpresents. Then a bouquet of roses, some peonies and a potted plant. FromDaddy and Mama I got a blue blouse, a game, a bottle of grape juice, whichto my mind tastes a bit like wine (after all, wine is made from grapes), apuzzle, a jar of cold cream, 2.50guilders and a gift certificate for two books. I got another book as well,Camera Obscura (but Margot already has it, so I exchanged mine forsomething else), a platter of homemade cookies (which I made myself, ofcourse, since I’ve become quite an expert at baking cookies), lots of candyand a strawberry tart from Mother. And a letter from Grammy, right on time,but of course that was just a coincidence.Then Hanneli came to pick me up, and we went to school.During recess I passed out cookies to my teachers and my class, and then itwas time to get back to work. I didn’t arrive home until five, since I went togym with the rest of the class. (I’m not allowed to take part because myshoulders and hips tend to get dislocated.) As it was my birthday, I got todecide which game my classmates would play, and I chose volleyball.Afterward they all danced around me in a circle and sang “Happy Birthday.”When I got home, Sanne Ledermann was already there. Ilse Wagner, HanneliGoslar and Jacqueline van Maarsen came home with me after gym, sincewe’re in the same class. Hanneli and Sanne used to be my two best friends.People who saw us together used to say, “There goes Anne, Hanne andSanne.” I only met Jacqueline van Maarsen when I started at the JewishLyceum, and now she’s my best friend. Ilse is Hanneli’s best friend, andSanne goes to another school and has friends there.They gave me a beautiful book, Dutch Sasas and Lesends, but they gave meVolume II by mistake, so I exchanged two other books for Volume I. AuntHelene brought me a puzzle, Aunt Stephanie a darling brooch and Aunt Lenya terrific book: Daisy Goes to the Mountains.This morning I lay in the bathtub thinking how wonderful it would be if I hada dog like Rin Tin Tin. I’d call him Rin Tin Tin too, and I’d take him toschool with me, where he could stay in the janitor’s room or by the bicycleracks when the weather was good.MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1942I had my birthday party on Sunday afternoon. The Rin Tin Tin movie was abig hit with my classmates. I got two brooches, a bookmark and two books.I’ll start by saying a few things about my school and my class, beginning withthe students.Betty Bloemendaal looks kind of poor, and I think she probably is. She liveson some obscure street in West Amsterdam, and none of us know where it is.She does very well at school, but that’s because she works so hard, notbecause she’s so smart. She’s pretty quiet.Jacqueline van Maarsen is supposedly my best friend, but I’ve never had areal friend. At first I thought Jacque would be one, but I was badly mistaken.D.Q.* * Initials have been assigned at random to those persons who prefer toremain anonymous. is a very nervous girl who’s always forgetting things, sothe teachers keep assigning her extra homework as punishment. She’s verykind, especially to G.Z.E.S. talks so much it isn’t funny. She’s always touching your hair or fiddlingwith your buttons when she asks you something. They say she can’t stand me,but I don’t care, since I don’t like her much either.Henny Mets is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, except that she talks ina loud voice and is really childish when we’re playing outdoors.Unfortunately, Henny has a girlfriend named Beppy who’s a bad influence onher because she’s dirty and vulgar.J.R. – I could write a whole book about her. J. is a detestable, sneaky, stuckup, two-faced gossip who thinks she’s so grown-up. She’s really got Jacqueunder her spell, and that’s a shame. J. is easily offended, bursts into tears atthe slightest thing and, to top it all off, is a terrible show-off. Miss J. alwayshas to be right. She’s very rich, and has a closet full of the most adorabledresses that are way too old for her. She thinks she’s gorgeous, but she’s not.J. and I can’t stand each other.Ilse Wagner is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, but she’s extremelyfInicky and can spend hours moaning and groaning about something. Ilselikes me a lot. She’s very smart, but lazy.Hanneli Goslar, or Lies as she’s called at school, is a bit on the strange side.She’s usually shy — outspoken at horne, but reserved around other people.She blabs whatever you tell her to her mother. But she says what she thinks,and lately I’ve corne to appreciate her a great deal.Nannie van Praag-Sigaar is small, funny and sensible. I think she’s nice. She’spretty smart. There isn’t much else you can say about Nannie. Eefje de Jongis, in my opinion, terrific. Though she’s only twelve, she’s quite the lady. Sheacts as if I were a baby. She’s also very helpful, and I like her.G.Z. is the prettiest girl in our class. She has a nice face, but is kind of dumb.I think they’re going to hold her back a year, but of course I haven’t told herthat.COMMENT ADDED BY ANNE AT A LATER DATE: To my areatsurprise, G.Z. wasn’t held back a year after all.And sitting next to G.Z. is the last of us twelve girls, me.There’s a lot to be said about the boys, or maybe not so much after all.Maurice Coster is one of my many admirers, but pretty much of a pest. SallieSpringer has a filthy mind, and rumor has it that he’s gone all the way. Still, Ithink he’s terrific, because he’s very funny.Emiel Bonewit is G.Z.’s admirer, but she doesn’t care.He’s pretty boring. Rob Cohen used to be in love with me too, but I can’tstand him anymore. He’s an obnoxious, two-faced, lying, sniveling little goofwho has an awfully high opinion of himself.Max van de Velde is a farm boy from Medemblik, but eminently suitable, asMargot would say.Herman Koopman also has a filthy mind, just like Jopie de Beer, who’s aterrible flirt and absolutely girl-crazy.Leo Blom is Jopie de Beer’s best friend, but has been ruined by his dirtymind.Albert de Mesquita came from the Montessori School and skipped a grade.He’s really smart.Leo Slager came from the same school, but isn’t as smart.Ru Stoppelmon is a short, goofy boy from Almelo who transferred to thisschool in the middle of the year.C.N. does whatever he’s not supposed to.Jacques Kocernoot sits behind us, next to C., and we (G.and I) laugh ourselves silly.Harry Schaap is the most decent boy in our class. He’s nice.Werner Joseph is nice too, but all the changes taking place lately have madehim too quiet, so he seems boring. Sam Salomon is one of those tough guysfrom across the tracks. A real brat. (Admirer!)Appie Riem is pretty Orthodox, but a brat too.SATURDAY, JUNE 20,1942Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Notonly because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems tome that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings ofa thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I feel like writing,and I have an even greater need to get all kinds of things off my chest.”Paper has more patience than people.” I thought of this saying on one ofthose days when I was feeling a little depressed and was sitting at home withmy chin in my hands, bored and listless, wondering whether to stay in or goout. I finally stayed where I was, brooding. Yes, paper does have morepatience, and since I’m not planning to let anyone else read this stiff-backednotebook grandly referred to as a”diary,” unless I should ever find a real friend, it probably won’t make a bit ofdifference.Now I’m back to the point that prompted me to keep a diary in the first place:I don’t have a friend.Let me put it more clearly, since no one will believe that a thirteen year-oldgirl is completely alone in the world.And I’m not. I have loving parents and a sixteen-year-old sister, and there areabout thirty people I can call friends.I have a throng of admirers who can’t keep their adoring eyes off me and whosometimes have to resort to using a broken pocket mirror to try and catch aglimpse of me in the classroom. I have a family, loving aunts and a goodhome. No, on the surface I seem to have everything, except my one truefriend. All I think about when I’m with friends is having a good time. I can’tbring myself to talk about anything but ordinary everyday things. We don’tseem to be able to get any closer, and that’s the problem. Maybe it’s my faultthat we don’t confide in each other. In any case, that’s just how things are, andunfortunately they’re not liable to change.This is why I’ve started the diary.To enhance the image of this long-awaited friend in my imagination, I don’twant to jot down the facts in this diary the way most people would do, but Iwant the diary to be my friend, and I’m going to call this friend Kitty.Since no one would understand a word of my stories to Kitty if I were toplunge right in, I’d better provide a brief sketch of my life, much as I dislikedoing so.My father, the most adorable father I’ve ever seen, didn’t marry my motheruntil he was thirty-six and she was twenty-five. My sister Margot was born inFrankfurt am Main in Germany in 1926. I was born on June 12, 1929. I livedin Frankfurt until I was four. Because we’re Jewish, my father immigrated toHolland in 1933, when he became the Managing Director of the DutchOpekta Company, which manufactures products used in making jam. Mymother, Edith Hollander Frank, went with him to Holland in September,while Margot and I were sent to Aachen to stay with our grandmother.