Chapter Text
Gilbert Blyth was exhausted. He just got off a 9-hour flight from Calgary. Before that, it was a 3-hour long train ride from the town he was staying in. It was 2 am and they already a full day of traveling, but they still had a forty-five-minute long bus ride to get to get back to Avonlea. His dad got the tickets as Gilbert guarded the luggage in the terminal. He sat on his Dad’s suitcase, his own duffle bag beside him. He could smell the salt water of the ocean. On the Island, you could never really lose the vaguely salty smell. It was so small, you were always within 30 minutes of the coast by car. He loved that about home, and was the biggest thing he missed in Alberta, besides his friends.
“The bus will be here in 30 minutes,” his dad said, coming back over. We should move over to seats closer to the bus stop. You can get some shut-eye while we wait.”
“You should be the one to sleep,” Gilbert objected. “You need it. Your health.”
“No, you're the young one,” his dad returned, “You should catch up on your sleep. You got school tomorrow.” Gilbert rolled his eyes to object but agreed to sleep in the end. His father woke him up when the bus came. They boarded and they both fell asleep on the ride home. When they got off in Avonlea John fetched the car while Gilbert looked out at the city he missed so much. He couldn’t see much from the bus stop, but he recognized everything. He looked out at a boring office building but recognized it from all the times he, Charlie and Moody would walk down it to get from the ice cream shop to the pier. He has so many memories of this street. He had so many memories of every street in this town.
They rode home in silence. The beaten up red pickup was the same as it always had been. The red stain on the carpet, the notches on the seat, he traced his hands over every nook and cranny. For some reason, the drowsiness mixed with being back in the town for the first time all summer was making him sentimental. He wanted to call his friends, but it was 3 in the morning. School started at 9:30, so everyone would be well asleep. He should be too.
When they got home and brought their luggage in. Gilbert collapsed on his bed without taking off his clothes. He wanted to go right to sleep but he knew if he did he would sleep until noon. He crawled out of bed, retrieved his cell phone charger from his backpack and cell phone from his jacket pocket. He plunged it in, double checked he had two alarms set if he slept through the first, and fell into sleep.
-
Gilbert woke up to his alarm. He sighed at the sunlight streaming in through the open blinds. He tried to appreciate the moment, but soon his alarm got too annoying. He set the first one for 8:30 so he’d have time to make breakfast and get into his best clothes. However, in the moment, the only thing he wanted was another 30 minutes of sleep. He went to turn it off and closed his eyes waiting for the second alarm. Suddenly, he was filled with dread. He checked his phone again. It was 9:00! He slept through the first alarm. He had to get going or he’d be late.
He rushed over to the duffle bag with all his clothe and pulled out some random clothes and put them on. He checked the time, 9:06. He took his backpack and dumped all the contents onto his bed. It had his laptop, books and all the travel supplies he needed in his carry on. He went over to his desk. He prepared all his back to school stuff before he left, so he grabbed the binder and stuffed it into his backpack. He also grabbed the pencil case and calculator. He needed something to do during his free time, so he grabbed The Great Gatsby from the pile of books on his bed and left the room with his backpack stuffed. He left his room a mess. He couldn’t focus on that right now. He checked the clock. 9:14. He rushed out the door, calculating in his head. It was a 15-minute walk to school, but he also needed to find his class.
He sprinted, bursting through the front doors at 9:26. He went over to the class list. He was in grade 8, his last year of elementary school, so he already knew his way around. The start of every year they post all the class lists a few places around the school. The kindergarten classes were posted in the yard, Grades 1 to 4 in the Gym, Grades 5 to 8 in the hall at the entrance to the school. He ran to the Grade 8 part of the lists. A quick scan revealed he was in Mr. Phillips’s class in room 113. He ran to it, checking his phone on the way. 9:28, he was really cutting it close for the first day. He sprinted to class, the door was wide open and he rushed in, tripping on the doorstop and falling into the room.
Luckily, someone was there to catch him. He looked up and saw the most beautiful face staring down at him. The sun was streaming in through the window behind her, giving her beautiful red hair a saintly glow. Gilbert swore he knew every girl, boy, and dog in Avonlea, but he had never seen this face, or one that equaled its beauty. He stared up at her in reverence, unable to breathe.
“Mr. Blyth,” the teacher said from behind the angle in front of her, “I heard you came in late last night, I was sure you weren’t coming in for a day or two.”
Gilbert pulled back from this mystery girl and righted himself. “I wanted to get here for the first day,” he explained.
“Very well,” Mr. Phillips sighed, “Take a seat. There’s one back there.” Mr. Phillips pointed to the third row, beside the Moody and behind Charlie, his two best friends. Gilbert usually sat in the front, but those seats were already all taken. He went to his seat, still very distracted by the beauty at the front of the class.
“As I was explaining,” she said, eyeing Gilbert suspiciously before turning back to Mr. Phillips to continue their conversation, “I was never really properly educated, so it might take me a while to catch up, but I will try my best to meet the challenges you put forth.” She was wearing a simple teeshirt and jeans, but they were both a few sizes too small. Her hair fell in braids on either side of her face, but they weren’t simple braids. They were twirled at the top hanging loose at the bottom in a way that was vaguely reminiscent of an old movie, but Gilbert couldn’t put his finger on it.
Mr. Phillips rolled her eyes and asked her to return to her seat. She did, the seat in the front row Gilbert would have taken. She was one row to the left and two rows up, and Gilbert couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Who was she?
He leaned over to Moody, and asked: “Who is she?”
Moody leaned back. “Her name is Anne,” he responded, “Anne Shirley.”
Gilbert held that name in his mouth, whispering it over and over again, smiling. “Where did she come from?”
“No one really knows for sure,” Charlie said, turning around.
“She showed up one day with Matthew Cuthbert,” Moody continued. “No one really knows what happened, but next thing we knew he and Marilla had adopted her.”
Gilbert thought about this. There was such an air of mystery around her, he wanted to know what secrets she had. He stared at the back of her head so intensely. He wished he could look at her all day, but "O, Canada" started playing. They all stood up and looked to the front of the class. When they were younger, they would all sing, but after around Grade 4 they became 'too cool' for it. Josie was the first to stop, and everyone followed her lead. Gilbert kinda always hated that they stopped.
Today was different. Today, Anne started singing at the top of her lungs. Everyone was surprised, but Gilbert joined in and so did Diana. Soon, the entire class joined in, except Josie who stuck her nose up. After the anthem, they all sat down for morning announcements. The announcements were very short, a brief welcome address from the Principal, a few reminders that the junior field is off-limits to primary students, also that they still need kindergarten lunch monitors and that anyone grades 6, 7, or 8 who want to volunteer they should do so in the office. Once the announcements were done, Mr. Phillips started his lesson.
“Welcome to the last year of elementary school. May it go by quickly so you could all be out of my hair and the high school teacher’s problems.” Mr. Phillips held his hand to his forehead to make it painfully obvious he had a headache. “I will be your main teacher, but you will go to others for gym and library. We will be learning about Geography, English, Maths, Physics, and History.” Mr. Phillips continued, and started to explain for the first weekdays they will be brushing up on what they learned last year, before jumping into the new stuff. Gilbert was excited, but he couldn’t help notice that Anne was clicking the back of her pen nervously.
They continued learning that morning and wanted to them to take a diagnostic test for where they all are in their education. It was meant to test how far along they were so Mr. Phillips could accurately tell where to start teaching from. He passed them out, then waited patiently while they finished. They were supposed to return them to the front desk at the end. Gilbert completed his quickly, then waited. Everyone else got up to hand theirs in, but he waited till Anne left her seat, so he could be right behind her while they waited in line. Mr. Phillips kept on chastising Moody on his handwriting, causing a small line, for which Gilbert was fortunate. He could look at the back of her head all day. He had never seen such a beautiful color of hair, he wanted to touch it. He had to get her attention somehow, but at the thought of actually being able to talk to the goddess in front of him, he got so flustered he did the only thing he could think of, he pulled her hair, calling her “Carrots.”
-
Anne had grown up in Nova Scotia, but grew up wasn’t the right word to use. It implied that she was once a child, but the reality is she never got the chance. She was treated like a child by only two people, and they died in a fire when she was 4. After that, she was bounced to an aunt who had an abusive husband and Anne was forced to work to make money because the family was poor from the husband’s drinking. She tried to run away a few times but was caught by the police every time. She spent a few nights in juvy, where she was taught to defend herself. She wasn’t taught by a mentor, she was taught by experience. Those experiences came in handy when she was put back into the foster system. She was constantly being pulled, hit and ripped apart by the other people in her foster school, especially the boys. She bounced around various foster families and parts of the system until she had it and ran away. She went to Charlottetown to escape the Nova Scotia authorities who were looking for her. She sang on the streets to earn money, as well as reciting poems, but they weren’t as much of a hit. She slept with friends when they let her, never in one place for long. She didn’t want to, but sometimes she had to steal to be able to eat. Luckily, Matthew found her and took pity on her. He took her out of that life, assuring her she would never have to look over her shoulder again. She was also able to go the school, and she loved it, even if it had only been a couple hours. She didn’t have much, the Cuthberts were not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but she was safe. She had that, at least, and it was the most she had in a while. She didn’t have to worry about being beaten or grabbed.
Suddenly, she felt someone grab her braid and pull hard, yelling “Carrots,” while the tugged. She did the only thing she knew how to do, the thing she had to do on the streets and in the foster system, the thing she was thought to do. She attacked whoever was attacking her.
Her elbow flew back, to where the attacker's face would probably. She had done it so many times, all the times, it was pure instinct at this point. She whirled around, to face her attacker and barely registered the face of the boy who came in late that day when she violently shoved him backward. The boy stumbled back, his head smashing into the blackboard behind him as he collapsed on the ground.
For a few seconds, no one moved or breathed. It came out all of a sudden, no one knew how to react. Gilbert held his head up to the back of his head, and the room broke out into chaos. All the people standing beside Anne in line ran away from her. The people in the first few rows ran to the back of the class with them, in a game of “get away from the crazy girl.” Mr. Phillips started yelling at her, but Anne’s feet stayed right where they were, her eyes fixed on the boy in front of her.
-
Gilbert touched the back of his head and looked at his hand. No blood, that was a good sign. He looked up at where he hit his head. There was a small crack on the corner of the blackboard. He must have hit it hard, but then again it was really old. It probably hadn’t been replaced since the school opened. He felt something trickle down his face, from his nose into his mouth. He touched it and pulled back a red hand. His nose was bleeding. He tried to get up, and found that he could with only a bit of dizziness. He briefly wondered if he might be concussed, but he never lost consciences, didn’t vomit or have amnesia. He was only a bit dizzy, but it could have just as easily been caused by getting up to quick after not eating breakfast. He was also a bit disoriented, but tried to pay attention as he went over to Mr. Phillips’s desk for some tissues for his nose. He looked around and saw everyone pushed against the back wall, looking at Anne like she was a leper. He also looked at Anne, who had her eyes on the ground as Mr. Phillips continued to yell at her.
“And what is more, Miss Shirley, you have hurt a fellow student. You will be expelled, you can make sure of it. I’m not sure how thing are run wherever you came from, but here in civilized society, such displays of temper or not tolerated.”
“It was my fault,” Gilbert spoke up, “I tugged at her braid. She was just defending herself.”
“She should not have reacted like that,” Mr. Phillips stated, turning around to face Gilbert directly.
“What was she supposed to do?” Gilbert asked. “Not defend herself if someone attacks her?”
“She shouldn’t have hit you like that. Look at your nose.”
“It’s what I deserve.”
Mr. Phillips was getting annoyed, so he turned back to Anne. “You will go and report to the principal what you have done.” Anne turned to leave, still looking at the floor. “And take Mr. Blyth with you, he needs to be do something about the bloody nose you gave him when you attacked.”
“When you defended yourself,” Gilbert corrected the teacher, as he walked out with Anne. She held the door open for him, which Gilbert didn’t know whether to interpret as good old Canadian kindness, or an opening for friendship. He took it as the latter, even though the bloody nose he had made him think the first was more likely.
“Thank you,” he said, returning the Canadian politeness for the door. He walked beside her in silence for a moment, thinking of something to say. He knew every brick in this school, and knew all the steps to the office, so he knew there was only so many. He had to say something quick. Anything. “I like your braids,” he said, then cursed himself for saying that.
Anne nodded. “I noticed,” she commented.
“Yeah, they’re… Ummm… They’re very… Uhhh.” He pointed vaguely at the twisty part but couldn’t describe them.
“I was going for a Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz look,” she confessed.
That’s where he recognized it from! “They look really nice,” he complimented. “You’re all set for adventures over the rainbow.”
She smiled a bit at this, which filled him with joy. “Here we are,” she said, pointing to the office door. His heart fell, knowing their brief conversation was done. He held the door open for her. She mumbled a thank you as they both went into the office. Pricilla Andrews greater them.
“Hello Anne, how was your first day-Gilbert what happened to your face?” Pricilla got up and ran over to him.
“I hit him,” Anne confused.
“In self-defense,” Gilbert added.
“I’m supposed to see the Principal,” Anne continued.
“Hold on,” Pricilla said. She gave Gilbert a few more tissues because he bled through the last ones. “You can both have a seat,” she told them as she disappeared down a separate hallway at the back of the office. Gilbert took a seat to the right of the door, causing Anne to sit on the left, causing Gilbert to switch seats to sit beside her. Anne rolled her eyes, and they sat in silence for a while. Gilbert looked for something to talk about.
“Pricilla is part of the Andrews family,” Gilbert explained, figuring Anne didn’t know much about the town’s history or gossip. “Her dad is principal at the High school. Her mom is a doctor. She just graduated high school last year, and is going to University in Quebec next year, but is the receptionist here for a gap year while she decides what she wants to study.”
“I know,” she responded. “Diana told me.”
He tried to look for something else to say, but before he could Pricilla came back. “Mr. Barry is ready for you, Anne. Gilbert, you should stay here till your nose stops bleeding, and I’m going to google concussion symptoms but beyond that, there’s not much I can do. I don’t think we need to call the ambulance.”
Anne got up and went back towards the hallway from which Pricilla came from. “Good luck,” Gilbert called after her.
-
Anne went down the hallway, her feet like lead. She came to two doors. One read “George Barry, Principal” and the other Anne didn’t even bother looking at as he found the one she was looking for. She knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said a voice from within. Anne came in, sheepishly. “Sit down,” Mr. Barry said. Anne sat, as Mr. Barry started his speech.
“You hit another student. At this school that is not acceptable. Miss. Andrews said you did it in self-defense, is this true? I would like to hear it from your point of view.”
Anne swallowed hard. “I was in line to hand him in my test to Mr. Phillips when someone tugged my hair from behind. Instinctively, I elbowed him in the face and pushed him back into the chalkboard. It cracked.”
“What cracked,” Mr. Barry asked, concerned.
“The chalkboard,” Anne clarified, “not his skull. He has a bloody nose, but there doesn’t seem to be any signs of a concussion.”
Mr. Barry sighed in relief. “Well, that’s tough. There is a protocol for this. It is an assault of a fellow student without a weapon, that means a mandatory 3-day suspension. Frankly, I’m very disappointed in you. My daughter seems to have developed a fondness for you during the summer, but frankly, I don’t know what to make of you now with this display of temper. I’m not sure you should be talking to her, I don’t want this kind of influence around her.” Mr. Barry leaned back in his chair, thinking about the problem in front of him. “You know, in all my years of being at this school, I have never had to give out more than a two-day suspension. You are a problem, Anne. Go back to the office, we will call your mother and she will pick you up. Your three days will start tomorrow, so you will come back on Friday. Now go.”
Anne nodded and left the office. She returned to where Pricilla was kneeling over Gilbert with a shoe box, making sure he was alright. Gilbert brushed her off as soon as Anne walked in.
“What happened?” Gilbert asked.
“Three-day suspension,” Anne responded, taking a seat on the opposite side of the door, far from Gilbert.
“So you’ll be back Thursday?” he perked up.
“Friday,” Anne corrected. “The suspension starts tomorrow.”
Gilbert let the moment fall, looking at Anne intently. She was still looking down at her feet, straining face to appear made of stone, worried about showing even the tiniest hint of emotion. But it started to break down. A tear fell down her cheek, then another. She tried to make it stop, but soon she was crying. She tilted her head down, trying to hide her tears behind her hand. Gilbert knelt by her with the book of tissues, offering them to her. She couldn’t look at him she was so ashamed but took the tissues anyway. He gently put a hand on her arm, stroking comfortably. She let it happen. Eventually, she was done crying her silent tears and sat back in her chair. Gilbert sat beside her. There was a bit of an awkward pause as Anne blew her nose and made sure her face was clear of tears when she sat up again.
“Are you okay?” Gilbert asked, worried about the fact that the angel in front of him was so sad.
“I’m fine,” Anne responded. Gilbert didn’t believe her, nor did Pricilla Andrews who was eyeing them out of the corner of her eye. “It’s just. I’m already a problem to Marilla and Matthew, now I’m a problem to you, and the principal, and everyone in the entire school. I’m just a burden on everyone. Now, Marilla will have to leave the store to come to get me. I shouldn’t be here.”
Gilbert wanted more than anything to hold her and tell her how much he cared about her but knew she would not appreciate it. Instead, he softly whispered to her “You are not a problem. You are not a burden. You are you and you are perfect.”
Anne brushed him off, but smiled and righted herself anyway. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another, and when she opened her eyes, she straightened her back and put on a brave face. She kept that face on while they waited. Gilbert’s nose stopped bleeding, but he stayed there anyway. Marilla came in, fuming silently while also trying to keep her composure. Gilbert could see where Anne got it from, but he suspected it ran deeper, into her mysterious past. Marilla quickly signed the paper work and told Anne to leave with her, but Gilbert quickly stopped Anne.
“Sorry, but I was wondering if I could have your phone number.” He held out his cell expectantly.
“I don’t have a phone,” Anne responded.
“Oh,” Gilbert was disappointed. “Do you have a Facebook? Email?”
“No.” Anne said, trying to push past him to get out the door and back to Marilla.
“How do I contact you?” Gilbert asked, running after her.
“Talk to me the old-fashioned way,” she shouted back at him as the bell rung, filling the halls with people, obscuring the girls.
Gilbert stared at the place where they stood. She would stick with him, he knew that much. The girls in modern clothes, with the 50s hair and the timeless, tortured soul.