Our secondary school gave its classes in various buildings: shacks in shambles in the woods, a desolate office building next to a chemistry factory, and, most importantly, an musty stone building so old that one could smell the dead souls of generations long gone. This building was called the dépendance, which was a French word which none of us could neither pronounce nor explain but which meant something like extra building. It was here were we committed our most atrocious crimes against our fellow students. It was here that we tied with impossible knots a girl to a staircase post. It was here that we covered with dog poo the saddle of a bike. It was here that we wrote swastikas on bare legs. And it was here that we locked me up for half a day in a shed and threw my schoolbag in the lake behind. No, I am lying. In the last case, we didn’t do that, they did that. I felt a bit weak that day.
( En español )