Chapter Text
“Is there a problem up here?”
The group of girls in front of Gilbert varied, one can’t have hit puberty yet but others were closer to his age, but that didn’t seem to prevent them from ganging together against their obvious target.
At his arrival, however, the apparent leader simply sneered and tossed a book over her shoulder, loose pages fluttering around the dingy attic they were in. The group made their way out, filing past Gilbert to go make mayhem elsewhere, he guessed. The only one left was a skinny girl with bright hair that was now on the ground, trying to collect the pieces of the haphazardly thrown book.
“Any more dragons that need slaying?” Gilbert asked, but the flat look he received in response just made him blush. “Uh, sorry. Dumb joke. Here… uh, here’s one-oh-two and two-ten?”
He knelt and picked up a few errant pages of a novel, identifiable only by the title printed at the top of every other page. With a cautious smile and a lift of an eyebrow, Gilbert tried to hand them to the girl.
“Thanks,” Anne mumbled, taking the pages she was handed and reaching for the last one. She shifted off her sore knees and started to sort the pages, thankful they were numbered and easily organized. A few moments passed and she glanced back at the boy to find him still there, just staring at her. After making eye contact, he apparently decided to make himself at home and sat with his legs crossed a few feet from her.
“I’m Gilbert, by the way,” he said, brushing some dust off his jeans and trying to look friendly. “I just got sent here yesterday. Does uh… does that kind of thing happen a lot?”
Anne looked up again to catch his frown, with matching downturned eyebrows, and shrugged.
“Won’t happen to you. You’re too tall. Too old,” Anne murmured, tossing a braid over her shoulder as she pulled the pile of papers into her lap, worn dress pulled across her crossed legs, absently flicking through the corners to see how far she’d gotten in her organizing.
“What about you?” Gilbert asked, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees.
“Not tall enough, not old enough,” she said simply, keeping her eyes on the remnants of her book, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand and leaving a trail of dirt that stood out against her pale skin.
“How old are you, then? I’ll be eighteen in six months, so I won’t be here long. Bit of a waste, really, but they seem to be sticklers about shit, aren't they?” Gilbert huffed, irritated, but hoping sharing information about himself would get her talking to him. He didn’t feel like going back downstairs to be around the others in the boys’ wing, but no longer felt like being alone like he originally intended on his trip up to the top of the building.
Anne hesitated, fingers stopping at page one hundred that was beside a page three hundred and five. “I just turned sixteen,” she admitted. “And they are. Very adamant about their archaic law and order.”
Anne’s eyes fell to her hands and stopped at the grime under her fingernails. She remembered a brief time when her hands had been covered in dirt, but from good, honest labor (as she had seen it be called in a book once). Playing in the mud had never been a pastime allowed in any of the foster homes she had briefly lived in and especially not in the home she was in now. But the one time she had been on a farm, surrounded by earth, had felt different. Anne still hadn’t been there to play, but she also wasn’t there to work. She simply helped because she was asked, because she wanted to, because she could do something that would allow her to later see the literal fruits of her labor. Poking tiny holes in the milled soil had seemed so fanciful and had willed her imagination to grow just the same. Hope had also grown at the place she had known would be her last chance, but, as she should have expected, she hadn’t been there long enough to see anything sprout from that soft bed in the yard. She hadn’t even been there long enough to get a teacher at school to spell her name correctly.
“... Hey?”
Anne flinched back into the musty attic at the light touch to her knee. Her eyes shot over to the boy pulling his hand back, his brow furrowed with concern.
“I didn’t get your name,” he said, aiming to keep his voice light.
“Anne,” she said.
“A-N-N? Or A-N-N-E?” Gilbert asked curiously.
Anne looked back down at her book, title long since peeled off the cover, and poked some of the pages back into place. “With an ‘e’,” she shrugged. “Or just, whatever. They aren’t big on individuality here. Just stick with your own bunk, but the rest is a bit of a free-for-all.”
“How long have you been here?” Gilbert asked, frowning again.
“In and out since I was young. In for good for three years now,” Anne said. She found this guy surprisingly chatty but decided not to be too ungrateful for someone to talk to, especially if it wouldn’t last long. “I had my last shot when I was thirteen, which was a feat in and of itself, really. But the system’s silly rules pulled me straight back here.”
“Was the couple not religious enough?” Gilbert guessed derisively.
“Mister and Missus were really Mister and Miss. I was there for a few months before they realized they were just brother and sister. Nothing weird, just never married, like that’s a crime or something,” Anne muttered, feeling the familiar pit in her stomach at the thought of her time with them, but long-since used to making herself care less each time. “You only have a few months, you could probably get away with running for a bit, if you’re good at it.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Two years is too long. They have it out for me a little, anyway, and I don’t think I should test it. But you’re a boy, you probably could.”
Gilbert shook his head. “I did some running. It’s not that worth it. Besides, I can handle a few months,” he shrugged.
“Did you go anywhere?” Anne asked hesitantly, trying not to appear like she really wanted to know. She hadn’t dared to let real thoughts form of what she might do once she was free of this place, and especially not of where she would go. She wouldn’t have anything once she walked out of these doors, they didn’t even allow the children to have cellphones, but she knew she had to keep her thoughts of the future somewhat realistic.
Gilbert took a breath, glancing at the dirty window that let in a few beams of sunlight.
“When my dad died a few years ago,” he started, feeling Anne’s eyes on him and knowing she was listening. “That made me officially an orphan. And I ran. Hopped on some trains to go out west. When I wanted to go east, I got on a boat. Got caught. But I was lucky enough to be sent to live with some old family friends I hadn’t seen since my dad got sick.”
“That’s lucky,” Anne whispered, scooting over a bit to lean against the attic wall.
Gilbert let out a deep breath, his frown becoming more prominent as he picked at the hem of his pants.
“They had a kid. I was kinda worried they wouldn’t have room for me anymore,” he murmured before clearing his throat and blinking rapidly. “But I became an uncle instead…”
“That sounds lovely,” Anne said, keeping her voice soft as she thought of the unimaginable idea of having a family like that.
“And then Mary got sick too.” Gilbert’s voice was almost too quiet to hear but Anne heard as she watched his breath hitch and tears fall from his eyelashes. “And they wouldn’t let a single father keep me, even though I’m almost eighteen. They wouldn’t even let me go to the funeral...”
Anne remained silent, having no words to give to this new boy. She both understood all too well his plight, the harm this instability could cause, but also knew she had never been anywhere quite long enough to form the bonds Gilbert obviously had with the people he spoke of. He had had time to grow attached to his father and the family that took him in, and she knew she would sound insensitive to tell him how lucky he was to have loved and lost, no matter how true she felt it was. But she also felt she could understand better than most the feeling of being pulled back and forth, of being on a hole-filled boat, victim to the whims of the tide. Anne herself had another two years of this to look forward to, but wondered if less time would feel just as volatile.
With thoughts turning through her head that she had long since given up on voicing aloud, all Anne could do was express some sort of solidarity. Oddly, most of the children in this home had similar stories, but Anne couldn’t tell if they all pushed each other away in anger, or just her. But… she wondered if maybe this boy hadn’t been here long enough to get that negative energy boiling in his gut. Or maybe he was just different.
Silently, Anne shifted closer, her dress bringing some of the floor dust with her, and put her hand on top of Gilbert’s where it was clenching itself into a fist.
In return, Gilbert had also run out of words and, also silently, just let his hand relax and turn over to hold Anne’s properly. To his surprise, the action mimicked the way his lungs seemed to loosen. He focused on taking deep breaths as, beside him, Anne brought her knees to her chest and made herself smaller, neither of them looking at their clasped hands.
The next day was Monday, which signalled the start of the school week for the kids at “the Home” as they called it. No matter what schooling the children did or did not have prior to being thrust in the place, they all attended the classes designed by the matron. The classes were divided by age but not as strictly as real schools. For all the disappointment it caused her, Anne somewhat benefited from being at the place for so long because she at least stopped jumping from school to school, never being anywhere long enough to drag together decent grades. While the teaching at the home left much to be desired, Anne ended up just teaching herself as much as she could with what few books they had. She kind of wished she could be allowed to help some of the younger kids, maybe, because she felt it a waste to not try to foster a love for learning. But not much love of any kind was fostered in this place.
The room designated for the older children was crammed with desks assigned to each “student” but was strictly alphabetical. As a “Shirley,” Anne was on the far left near the back most of the time (with the population constantly fluctuating as kids aged out every month and new ones aged in), but nothing stopped her from taking her notes. When she first arrived back at the home for good, she had tried to dredge up some enthusiasm in the classroom, but quickly learned such a thing was not appreciated. But what wasn’t able to come out of her mouth could go down on paper. They weren't given much, but she found she could often ask the almost-eighteen-year-olds for their leftover notebooks before they left and they wouldn’t care enough not to acquiesce. Anne never knew what happened to them after they left, not sure if they were able to keep going to school or not, but could only do her best for herself in this place.
The first half of the day went as usual. The person teaching the class (Did a teacher need qualifications? Did this man have them?) droned on about Canadian history and took no questions from the mass of students before him. Most had learned to stop asking, but it seemed Gilbert didn’t know that yet. He was near the front of the class, making Anne assume his last name started with “b” or “c,” and had raised his hands a few times before letting it fall on his desk in frustration.
Anne didn’t expect to see much of him after they had left the attic the day before, once it got too dark. The matron was quite strict about not interacting in class, sitting in assigned seats, and, especially, the separation of the boys’ and girls’ dorms. There were a few other boys that were close to Gilbert’s age and she assumed he’d figure that out soon. She had written a little about the moment they shared in the attic (she found it sounded nice when referred to as such) in the notebook she kept stashed away that she used as a journal. But she didn’t try to catch his eye or anything once the teacher signalled they were free to go to lunch for the little time they had before they were expected to return.
The main stairway was where Anne often had her lunch. The matron gave up long ago on making them all stay in one place to eat and just focused on punishments if they returned to class late. Anne was often left alone, the group of girls that like to pick on her usually kept to themselves during the day when their time was more closely monitored. So Anne ended up startled and she flinched when someone suddenly sat beside her, her school notebook falling from her lap to slide down a few stairs.
“Oh, sorry,” Gilbert said, gripping his lunch to his lap as he reached down to fetch Anne’s notebook. “Are these your class notes? Do you think I could borrow them later? I can’t tell if whatever that guy is teaching us is stuff I learned so long ago I forgot or something no one teaches at real school anymore.”
Anne looked over at him to find his kind eyes on her, crinkled slightly as he smiled at his own remark. She hadn’t expected him to try to find her, so she was surprised at his appearance now. But as she processed his request, she felt her stomach clench a little in resignation at him just using her for her notes, which she figured was a safe assumption.
“Yeah,” she mumbled, turning back to her meager sandwich.
“Thanks,” he said earnestly as he set her notebook down beside her before stuffing half his cheese sandwich in his mouth. Gilbert couldn’t help but keep glancing over at Anne as they ate in silence, the noise of a house full of children streaming through the hallways. He was trying not to let his current circumstances get to him, but he knew that was easier for someone who had a shorter timeline and could see the light at the end of the tunnel, even if it was obviously going to drag on. He couldn’t imagine being here for as long as Anne, and with so much time left. He wondered if she had always been the apparent opposite of her bright hair that stood out from the crowd, or if, maybe, her quietness was something learned. Based on the lunchtime noises he could hear and the ruckus he had attempted to escape yesterday, Gilbert couldn’t really answer that question for sure.
“You can take that one,” Anne said, breaking the silence and pointing to the notebook she had dropped. “I have another one for math and science, which is what we focus on after lunch.”
“Do they include the Soulmate section in history or in science?” Gilbert asked, his left hand unconsciously going to the spot on his right wrist where a mark would show up, ironically, at the same time as he was freed from this place.
Appetite gone, Anne stuffed her trash in the paper bag they were given and let it fall to the step on which her feet were resting.
“They don’t,” she said flatly.
“Don’t what?” Gilbert asked, his eyebrows expressing his confusion. “My school lumped it in with sex ed—”
“They don’t do that either,” Anne interrupted, cheeks heating up.
“Wait, what?”
“They don’t have anyone telling them what to teach as much as regular schools,” Anne shrugged. “They don’t think teaching us about sex ed or Soulmates is appropriate. So they just don’t.”
“You guys don’t know—”
“We know,” Anne said, hunching over a bit as she leaned against the railing, arms wrapping around herself. “It kind of gets passed around. But um… It’s a bit taboo? Not everyone gets a Mark here so… no one really talks about it… loudly, I guess.”
At this, Gilbert looked shocked, eyebrows flying up his forehead.
“What? I thought that was, like, really rare?” Gilbert asked, incredulous but trying to keep his voice down.
Anne just shrugged, glancing away from the way he kept his eyes and all his focus on her.
“It’s not like they come back and tell us, but it gets around. Not all have one when they get their bus ticket to leave, on their birthday,” Anne mumbled, absently tugging on the hem of her second-hand jeans that showed too much ankle.
Gilbert frowned, looking from Anne to some of the other kids that were walking the halls. They all looked to be wearing clothes that didn’t fit all that well and also that they were often fed lunches like the one he finished: meals that were just on the edge of not enough.
He couldn’t remember what his old teacher had said about people that don’t get a Soulmate Mark on their birthday. He mostly remembered his class tittering and giggling because most had parents to teach them this stuff anyway. Gilbert had heard plenty of stories from his father since he often wanted to hear about his mother and the Mark she shared with John. An image of Bash came to mind as Gilbert remembered his friend showing his Mark to his newborn daughter and little Delphine reaching for it with her tiny hand. It made him think of Mary and the fact that Bash no longer had a Match out there, not anymore. But for some of these kids in this house to walk out the door without even that to lead them anywhere out in the world? It made his stomach turn against the crushed chips he had been given in his sad brown paper bag.
Anne snuck a glance at Gilbert but turned away again at the painful look on his face. From a young age, she had longed for a few things out of life that she had never ended up receiving. But when she was old enough to notice that some of the other girls left with empty wrists once the doors were opened to them, Anne always got a pit in her stomach when she thought about it. She devoured any novel she could find, of course, but the romance stories had a special place in her heart. She could imagine herself as one of these heroines that, despite their circumstances in life, ended up finding their Match. As she got older, however, her imagination limited itself to just those books. She could see herself as Elizabeth or Sue or any of the other girls that woke up every day with a Mark standing out against their skin. But she couldn’t imagine herself as… herself. All she could see was the freckles on her arm every morning.
Anne almost wished she could go back to when she believed herself to be a long-lost princess or any other fanciful idea that filled her head when she was younger. Believing in what could obviously never happen felt more comfortable than trying to think about something that may happen but had a very good chance of never coming to fruition. The problem being that she had no idea how the odds swayed.
A mangled bell sound rang through the house and it erupted in more noise as all the kids started to herd back towards the classrooms.
Anne picked up her trash and snatched Gilbert’s out of his lap as she jumped up.
“I try to get some time outside before dinner when the weather is nice,” she said, looking down at him and gesturing to her notebook. “So. When you’re done with those.”
She then scurried down the stairs to get back to her desk on time, leaving Gilbert frowning on the stairs behind her.
The only place to get a moment’s peace in this place was, unfortunately, the musty attic. The only place to see anything of beauty, however, was the backyard that was, unfortunately, always overrun by screaming children.
Anne couldn’t fault them for having any amount of fun with what little free time they actually had, but being able to enjoy a nice book under a tree was never going to happen out there. She took what she could get, though, and tried to spend some time getting fresh air when the weather permitted, despite the continuous shrieks threatening her with a headache.
That Monday evening, Anne sat on the rusty bench by the edge of the property, going over some of her notes from the latest math lesson. With that subject being her least favorite (one could only self-teach so much when they start mixing letters with all the numbers), Anne let her frustrations get the better of her and tossed her notes onto the ground to lean back against the unforgiving bench.
When she looked up to avoid looking down at her notebook in the grass, Anne found Gilbert walking towards her. She hesitantly returned the friendly wave he gave her as he dodged the “it” in the latest game of tag taking up the area with the just-too-tall grass.
“Hey,” he greeted, plopping down on the bench beside her and handing her her other notebook. “Thanks for that, it helped. Luckily, whatever whats-his-face was talking about after lunch was stuff that sounded familiar so I think I’ll be okay with that. I’m not sure how much this’ll screw up my graduating, but I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”
Anne nodded, setting her notebook for her preferred subjects in her lap. She blinked at Gilbert as he stayed where he was seated, looking at her despite the hoard of seven-year-olds running like a flock of birds around them.
When it became obvious he wasn’t going to leave like she expected him to, Anne said, “They say we have our high school degree once we leave…”
“Any college counselors around…” Gilbert trailed off at Anne’s flat look. He sighed. “I guess I just have to hope my acceptance letter still holds up after this.”
Anne sat up straighter. “Do you know what you want to study?” she asked, a bit more life in her voice.
“I want to study medicine,” Gilbert said, a sad smiling coming to his face. “It feels a little naive now to think I could help people one day but… maybe?”
“I like that idea,” Anne said softly but honestly, turning herself to face Gilbert on the bench. “We need more people with ideas like that.”
“We can all try, at least,” Gilbert said, his head tilting slightly as he looked at Anne, noticing that she was holding herself smaller and that she seemed to do that often. “What about you?”
“Helping people?”
“No, what do you want to study?”
Anne frowned and pulled her knees up against her chest so she was now sitting sideways on the bench.
“I don’t know. Something useful, I guess. So I can get a job,” she shrugged, knowing she had to be particularly practical once she left this place.
“Not literature? The book you had in the attic yesterday, I don’t think that was on my high school reading list at least.”
Anne shrugged again. Books had always been her refuge but fantasies obviously weren’t realistic.
“Mr. Phillips says english degrees are as useless as degrees in art, that’s why we don’t have art classes and only have english a few times a week.”
“One day of Mr. Phillips has taught me more about his teaching abilities than anything else,” Gilbert said derisively, causing the corner of Anne’s mouth to twitch. “I hope he’s not the one in charge of teaching any of these boys how to shave or anything, not with that thing on his lip.”
If anyone had looked over at the pair on the bench, they would’ve seen Gilbert Blythe looking rather pleased with himself as Anne Shirley, uncharacteristically, dissolved into giggles at whatever he had said.
“I won’t be able to not think of that in class tomorrow,” Anne gasped from behind her hand as tears of laughter welled.
“Maybe he’ll call on me if he thinks I’m laughing at him,” Gilbert chuckled, unable to stop from grinning over at the girl beside him as he noticed the fading light catching in her hair as she tried to wipe at her eyes.
“That’s not something you want to play with, Gilbert,” Anne said, shaking her head as her giggles died down.
“Seems these kids might need some entertainment,” he joked, smirking to show that he wasn’t serious.
“I think everyone’s mutual disdain for Mr. Phillips is the only real unifier here,” Anne said ruefully, pulling today’s single braid over her shoulder to fidget with it.
“I’m surprised no one’s started a mutiny,” Gilbert teased, looking out at the passing wave of kids. “I bet Lord of the Flies is not on this school’s curriculum.”
Anne glanced down at the end of her braid, wrinkling her nose both at the color and the idea of an uprising. “Things can always get worse, Gilbert,” she said simply and honestly, making his smile fall as they both watched the kids surrounding them.
Anne’s words made Gilbert think of some of the children he had seen on the street in some of the cities he had been in when he ran away. He now understood how privileged he had been, in having a family like the Lacroixs to live with, and even now, still having a roof over his head at the least. He turned from the yard to Anne, watching her eyes flick from kid to kid. He wondered if, as soul-crushing this place seemed at times, she had experienced worse.
“It can get better, too,” Gilbert murmured, catching Anne’s gaze as she looked back at him.
Anne didn’t respond as she watched him watch her. She had hoped for that very thing once, even twice, but knew just getting through the day, every day, was what she needed to focus on. But she couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, the next six months might go a bit quicker for some reason.
A few days later class ended for the day but Anne didn’t stand from her desk like the everyone else. She stayed frowning at the last math problem they had done, chewing her lip in frustration at how little she understood the formula Mr. Phillips spent the afternoon making them recite (as if that helped them learn how to use it).
“You look like you’re trying to make your notes burst into flames,” Gilbert teased as he walked up to her after noticing she hadn’t gotten up yet.
Anne sighed, looking up at him. Every day since Monday Gilbert had met her after class for the free time they had before dinner. She wasn’t quite sure why, and had seen him brush off some of the other older boys who had tried to talk to him, but wasn’t stupid enough to ask for an explanation.
“I hate math,” Anne said drolly, slamming her notebook closed.
“It’s not so bad,” Gilbert shrugged, keeping his tone light. “It’s a pattern so things can’t go off course too much. I learned this stuff last year, you want me to help?”
Anne’s first instinct was to push him away, sure he was going to use this to make fun of her. But he just smiled down at her, obviously expecting her to say yes as he couldn’t think of a reason for her not to. She wasn’t sure if she’d regret falling for his earnest eyebrows on his earnest face, but she did know she didn’t have anyone else to ask for help, even if she hated doing so.
“Fine,” she muttered, caught off guard as usual at the sight of his grin directed at her. Anne stood and followed as Gilbert led them back outside and to their usual bench despite how uncomfortable it was. He seemed used to the outdoors and Anne had always appreciated what little time out in nature she got.
As they made their way outside, Anne and Gilbert passed the group of girls that had been bothering her when they first met. They didn’t say anything to her, not with Gilbert there, but she saw a few of the older girls smile at Gilbert, which he didn’t notice, and then turn their glares back onto her. Anne just walked a little faster, knowing they’d find fault in her no matter what she did, but figured that was just something she’d have to deal with later.
Once settled on the bench, flecks of rust rubbed into their clothes, Anne allowed Gilbert to start from the beginning and explain the current mathematical predicament of the day. Unsurprisingly, Gilbert had much more patience as a teacher than Mr. Phillips. Surprisingly, Anne caught on faster than expected as she wrote down as much as possible to help her future self. After a while their focus strayed away from schoolwork.
“Most of those movies have Soulmates in them,” Gilbert said, eyebrows furrowed as they talked about the rare movie night the kids were granted. “I thought you said they didn’t like talking about that?”
“But the morals of the stories are very blatant so the matron thinks they’ll teach us all to be good little boys and girls,” Anne said sneered.
“I mean, I guess a monthly movie night makes sense if you want to make these guys be quiet for an hour and a half,” Gilbert mocked, looking pointedly at the sticks a group of the younger kids were waving around. “I’m just surprised at some of the choices.”
“Anything with magic is out, too ungodly, of course. If they mention Soulmates, they can’t, like, get too detailed. A boring heternormative relationship is preferred. No blood or gore. Ideally not too many movies with pets so no kid gets any ideas about sneaking one in. Absolutely nothing that promotes asking too many questions, especially not of an authority figure,” Anne listed off, trying not to laugh at the grimace on Gilbert’s face.
“No wonder you spend all your time with your nose in books,” Gilbert said, shaking his head.
“I do love reading. It’s harder for the matron to censor those while keeping enough of our ‘library’ stocked as the rules dictate, especially since she depends on donations mostly,” Anne said, her arm resting along the back of the bench so she could lean her head against it.
“I guess not having TV to watch kinda forces kids to use their imagination more.”
“You’re not wrong in that,” Anne said. “That’s all I had back then…”
“What about now?” Gilbert asked, sitting sideways on the bench like Anne.
Anne’s gaze slid down to a piece of the bench with flaking rust that she was picking at. “I write, sometimes. When I can.”
“Oh, wow, that’s cool,” Gilbert said, sounding surprisingly earnest to Anne’s ears. “Can I read any?”
Anne sat up a little, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s nothing intelligible, yet,” she said hurriedly.
“Then I guess I’ll have to wait to see an Anne Shirley original at my local bookstore,” Gilbert grinned. “I’ll even buy it as a hardcover.”
“Sure,” Anne laughed, rolling her eyes.
“I’m serious,” Gilbert said, tapping her foot with his, able to tell she was joking more than he was.
“Uh huh. I’ll dedicate it to you,” she teased.
“To my muse, Gilbert Blythe,” Gilbert said seriously, giving her a mock bow.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Anne said, shaking her finger at him mockingly and biting back a smile as he snorted in laughter.
Anne leaned over her bed, glad that despite its many lumps, it was only a single so it wasn’t as difficult to cover with the fitted sheet. Most of the girls had already made their beds but Anne was left last since she had been made to deliver all the freshly laundered linens as punishment for being caught reading the night before.
Just as she had everything tucked in tightly enough to pass inspection, her mattress was suddenly shoved off the frame.
Anne held back as sigh as she stood up and found a small group of the older girls encircling her.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Anne mumbled before she was the one being shoved. She hissed when her shin caught the sharp edge of the bed frame as she landed on her butt on the unforgiving springs.
“Shut it, Shirley,” Cora snapped as the eldest and the de facto leader. “Or you’ll make us late to class.”
Anne refrained from asking how that would be her fault and just frowned up at the girl, ignoring her throbbing leg.
“We’ve seen you mooning over the new boy,” one of the other girls, Breanna, sneered.
“Cora has dibs so you need to back the fuck off,” another (Molly?) ordered, ignoring Anne’s confused look.
“Or else we’ll tell the matron what you’re really doing up in that attic,” Cora taunted, crossing her arms as she quirked a dark eyebrow.
“What we’re doing?” Anne asked, genuinely lost now.
“You know the matron will believe the worst, especially if you’re involved,” Breanna said snidely.
Anne frowned as her stomach flipped uncomfortably. She had read enough books to take a stab at whatever they were referring to but also felt embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t educated enough to know for sure. She didn’t know what to do with this as she really preferred not to receive any of the matron’s attention, but also wasn’t sure she could stop talking to Gilbert even if she wanted to.
“Fine,” she said, knowing no other answer would get them to leave. Anne stood, stumbling slightly as she twisted to pull her mattress back upright. It looked horrible but she’d have to fix it later. It wasn’t until she had been allowed to leave the dorm and was on her way to class that she realized it was blood leaking down her leg just past the hem of her dress.
“Anne!”
Anne turned in the hallway, catching Cora’s eye as she passed, but waiting for Gilbert to catch up to her.
“Your leg!” Gilbert gasped, tilting his head to look at her cut. “You need something on that—”
“We have class—”
“Not like that you don’t,” Gilbert said sternly, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the kitchens and not noticing the other girls’ eyes following them as they went.
Anne huffed as she allowed Gilbert to tug her along, beginning to limp a little.
“The little kids’ teacher is a trained nurse—”
“The kitchen has to have a first aid kit, that’s all we need,” Gilbert said authoritatively. He was glad the kitchen was empty, he was sure this wasn’t exactly allowed, but he had been ready to plea his case anyway. “Okay, sit.”
Anne rolled her eyes but obeyed, sitting on a stool by the island and watching Gilbert putter around. She wrinkled her nose as he went into the pantry. “They’ll know if you—”
“I’m not getting anything to eat,” Gilbert interrupted, coming back to kneel beside her and dropping his haul. “We just need a little honey.”
“Okay, Professor Lupin—”
“Shut up,” Gilbert grinned as he made himself more comfortable on the ground and started to clean her cut.
Anne opened her mouth to tease him some more but her words left her head as she felt his hands so gentle on her leg. All thoughts of the other girls’ threats also disappeared as she watched his brow furrow in concentration as he helped her more kindly than any adult ever had.
“Thanks,” was all she could mumble as he finished, making sure her bandage was on properly.
Gilbert raised his head and found Anne staring down at him. He was sitting closer to her than ever before and found himself counting a few new freckles. Only when the signal for class flooded through the house did either move.
“Here,” Gilbert said, standing and helping her up. He pulled something out of his pocket and slipped it into her hand with a wink.
As they made their way to class, knowing Mr. Phillips wasn’t going to be pleased, Anne looked down and found a stolen chocolate truffle and she could only smile around the evidence she had to stuff in her mouth lest they were caught.
“It’s Delphine’s birthday,” Gilbert said with a bittersweet smile when Anne asked him what was wrong after taking a look at his face at lunch. He didn’t talk about Bash, Delphine, or Mary often. Both because it would hurt too much, in so many ways, but also because he felt one of the unspoken rules about this place was not talking about what you have or don’t have, or did have, outside these walls. He knew enough of Anne’s story and could only guess most of the other kids’ were similar.
Anne reached up from her spot on the step below his to take his hand and squeeze it in solidarity. She could tell he was close to the little girl, not really knowing what kind of title she had in Gilbert’s life but did know that titles meant different things to different people. She knew blood meant nothing when it came to family.
“We could do something in her honor,” Anne suggested hesitantly, biting her lip as she pulled her hand away from his and half-noticed him absently scratching at his wrist, right where a Mark would appear in a few months.
“Like what?” Gilbert asked, stuffing the last of his squashed sandwich into his paper bag, no longer hungry.
Anne pursed her lips, glancing around before leaning in. “Meet me at the bench after class,” she whispered.
“Where we always go after class?” Gilbert asked sarcastically, earning a flick to the shin.
“So you shouldn’t have any trouble remembering,” Anne sniffed, standing up with her trash and walking away towards a garbage can, not noticing the way Gilbert’s eyes followed her.
Once class was over for the day, the physics lesson making it drag on, Gilbert was one of the first out of the room. Anne put her textbook away at her own pace, feeling Cora’s eyes watching her, but eventually made it outside to where she could see Gilbert waiting.
After reaching the bench, Anne looked around furtively before gesturing for Gilbert to follow her around to the side of the house once she deemed the coast clear.
Anne stopped at a large tree and, after checking for onlookers again, slipped behind it so she was completely out of view of the rest of the yard. Gilbert could only follow.
“Hope those jeans are flexible,” Anne teased, missing Gilbert’s eyebrows shooting up as she bent over to tie her dress together between her legs like she read about in a book once. Without waiting for a response, Anne used two large nails sunk into the trunk of the tree to make it to the lowest branch thick enough to hold her weight. She pulled on various branches to be sure it was safe, and, before Gilbert knew it, she was at least fifteen feet above ground.
“Anne?”
“Come on, quick,” Anne hissed before she completely disappeared into the foliage.
Gilbert huffed but had no other choice. He glanced around before beginning his ascent, very aware he was not making it look as graceful as Anne had. Once he reached her, doing his best not to look down, he found her nestled in a nice naturally formed nook, grinning over at him. It was the brightest he had ever seen her smile and he wondered if she was really some sort of changeling that had been left at the wrong place.
“Are we allowed up here?” he asked instead, frowning as he tried to find a safe spot to sit.
“Nope,” Anne said cheerfully, nudging him over to a branch across from her.
“But—”
“It’s only for special occasions,” Anne insisted before elaborating. “I used to spend a lot of time up here. Before I was sent to… the last place. That was the worst switching I got here, when the matron eventually found out I had snuck those nails and somehow got them in the tree. But how else was I supposed to get up to that first branch?”
Anne was too busy looking down, legs swinging, to see the frown on Gilbert’s face.
“Did that make you stop?” he asked carefully.
“That and she threatened to cut it down. I think she’d actually need to get permits, to be honest, but I didn’t want to risk it,” Anne said, reaching up to pluck a leaf off the branch above her.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Gilbert started.
“It’s fine, Gil, I promise. Just this once. Just a tiny adventure, for Delphine,” Anne insisted softly.
Gilbert didn’t say anything as he looked at her, seemingly at home in this large oak. She was almost a different person from the one he watched leave the ground moments ago. It made him both wish he could go back and give young Anne a whole magical garden in which to play and hope that Delphine would be there after his birthday and he could spend a whole month playing outside with her. Anne probably had no idea how he saw her, part fae in this tree, but also knew his new desire to be out in nature with his niece was her actual intention.
“One of your stories should be a fantasy,” he said instead. “Maybe a character could control nature or something.”
Anne’s chin dipped to her chest as she smiled, shrugging him off. “Maybe,” she said, trying not to think of a few ideas just like that she had jotted down in her notebook.
While the students were sure Mr. Phillips and the other grumpy teachers would appreciate it, those forced to try and learn at the Home did not get summer breaks. Even Anne would have found some pleasure in not going to class five days a week, but she also knew that no one had any idea what they would do for two months without the class structure. Anne had laughed at Gilbert’s incredulous look when he found out, but also believed all the kids probably benefited from such a format as most were woefully behind on the education front anyway.
Being stuck in a classroom as a heat wave took over July was definitely enough of a punishment that even Mr. Phillips became somewhat lax and finished his science lesson early, allowing them to intermingle for once, until the bell rang.
Anne idly scratched at the scab on her shin before tugging at the hem of her dress a little. It had gotten tighter lately but was also the thinnest one she had; she couldn’t be paid to put on some of her winter dresses, the few she had, in this weather. She glanced up at the movement around her and found Gilbert making a beeline towards her as the other kids formed little pods like magnets.
As Gilbert passed Cora and her friends, they all turned and glared at Anne as one, like they had practised it. Anne hadn’t told Gilbert about their threats, but, in not changing her actions in any way, she had inadvertently called their bluff. She assumed they might have gotten in trouble as well if they tried to tell the matron their lies. But that hadn’t stopped them from making their displeasure known. They had started to do a bunch of little things to get back at Anne. Nothing in front of Gilbert, though, and nothing that would leave a mark like the one she got from the bed frame. She did have bruises all across her shoulder from them constantly running theirs into her in the hallway. She also had to learn to feign a lack of hunger whenever they did something like pour glue into her lunch bag or, one time, somehow get a mouse into her sandwich. Anne honestly was not sure what she did to deserve a friend like Gilbert, no matter how limited their time together was. He wouldn’t question her if she said she didn’t feel well, but more often than not forced her to take half of his own lunch, even if it was just to save for once she felt better. She felt she had lived a lifetime with girls like Cora and knew just staying out of their way was the best policy, but it was nice to have someone to hide out with even if he was kind of the cause of her troubles.
“I grew up in a farming community, I still can’t get over this lack of summer break,” Gilbert grumbled as he all but threw himself into the empty seat in front of Anne’s desk.
“Did you grow anything?” Anne asked curiously. No one mentioned their childhood much but it was almost like poking your tongue at the hole in your mouth after losing a tooth. His comment made her think of her last foster home and she couldn’t help but ask questions despite the light stabbing feeling in her chest.
“My dad and I had a few apple trees,” Gilbert said, shifting so he was sitting backwards in the chair and leaning on the backrest. “I think my great grandfather or something used to have more but we just had enough for ourselves, really. I couldn’t imagine trying to manage a full farm. Some of my old neighbors still do, somehow.”
Anne opened her mouth to mention the gorgeous farm she had once seen, up close, but thought better of it. Her last foster home really hadn’t been all that different from all the rest, even if it felt separate somehow. Either way, she hadn’t stayed, and that was all that mattered in the end.
“Must have been beautiful when they bloomed,” Anne said instead, finding herself studying the sad smile that came across Gilbert’s face.
“Yeah,” he breathed, blinking down at his hands. Gilbert picked at some of the dirt under his thumbnail as his mind wandered to his childhood home. Technically, he still owned it and he assumed it was still there. He hadn’t wanted to go back after he ran away and he had stayed in Bash and Mary’s apartment with them when they took him in. For the first time in a while, he wondered if maybe he should visit. Maybe a change of scenery for everyone would be nice. He surprised himself a little as he realised he was picturing Anne in his old kitchen too, along with Bash and Delphine.
The bell rang, causing Anne and Gilbert to jump as it broke them both out of their thoughts. Gilbert looked down and found that he had been absently scratching at his right wrist and tried to rub the itch away as he stood and joined the herd exiting the classroom.
Anne fidgeted with the twine bow she had wrapped around her roll of papers in an imitation of a scroll. She wished she could have done a bit more for this boy that she considered her first real friend, but this would have to do. And she secretly thought, but would barely admit to herself, that if anyone was going to understand and appreciate this as a gift, it would be Gilbert.
It was early but none of the kids at the home were allowed to sleep in so this was their normal. Anne could tell that the seasons were beginning to turn, she could smell it in the air, and she felt that made it appropriate on such a momentous day for her friend. It wasn’t until the clock was ticking closer to the beginning of class that Anne realized she had been standing outside the boys’ dorm for longer than usual.
“Hey,” she called out to one of the older boys that had arrived not long before Gilbert. “Is Gilbert still in there?”
“Who?” the boy asked with a disdainful look on his sunburnt face.
Anne rolled her eyes. “Gilbert. White. Tall. Brown Hair. Sits next to you in class?”
“Blythe? Think the matron got him his bus ticket before the effing sun was up,” the boy complained before waving her off and walking away.
Anne gaped at the boy’s retreating back as she stood in the empty hallway. She heard the familiar sound of crumpled paper and looked down to find her hand clenching the roll of papers on which she had stayed up all night writing. It was a story (fictional but heavy on the allegories as it involved a princess and a knight trapped in a crumbling castle) that she had written for Gilbert. For his birthday. But he was already gone, out the door before she had even woken up.
The pit in her stomach was heavy. But so very familiar. Anne thought she had outgrown this feeling of disappointment and hurt but figured it may be a lifelong ailment that grows and sticks to you like a barnacle. A barnacle stuck to a rock without the tools to scrape it off.
Anne once had a box of keepsakes that she had successfully kept hold of through a few different foster homes. It didn’t have much. No movie or plane tickets for her. But a nice shell she found on her first and only trip to the beach even though it was too cold to swim. A bird feather as long as her hand. A dried flower from her Snow Queen. She had no idea where that box was now. Treasures stolen, box broken. A thrashing for trying to steal something to put in it, even though that wasn’t what happened. One upon a time, Anne would have put her story in a box with her other trinkets. A different Anne might have even had letters from people who wanted to speak to her, with her, inside such a box.
But this Anne knew better. So she gently placed her scroll in the rarely used recycling bin on her way to her classroom, opening her mouth to speak to no one since she walked alone, as usual.