What About Yesterday? - anne with an e

Chapter 13, Part 2 - We Fell In Love In October

Diana Barry was accustomed to a certain level of ruckus. Back home, her sister personified something like a hot air balloon. Capitalising off every noise, every surface; up and up tensions would build filling each inch, each room. Because their parents decided to present absence in some areas of their upbringing, Minnie May careened off the walls, screamed into ears, and cried more often than not like someone ripped apart her dolls. Diana often felt the attraction of doing just that- destroying those pearly white faces with their polka dot gowns for the pure satisfaction of it- but she knew she couldn't. For she loved her sister. Sometimes, she thought, it was the only relatively intact thread connecting her to her parents. She felt protective of her sister in a way that even puzzled her self. That violent, moody, tone deaf girl should not hold any of her affection. But Minnie May was such a different sort of daughter, with bright eyes and a strategic mind- and delicate emotions that were overbalanced by the smallest of words. She was concerned over her parents effect on their youngest. At least Diana's relationship with them was clear one. With her mother, they disagreed on most topics, fought with equal fever, and then admired- admittedly specific and small- aspects of one another. Mrs Barry appreciated, however silently, her daughter's skill with children, as well as her decided likability. Diana knew her mother argued on her own terms, and she respected her determination in relation to deals, agreements and other, non-emotionally dependent relationships. And her father... well, he was a stranger who held most if not all authority over her- as he had the power to hold her back from the entirety of her future- and of course they were bound to each other by blood. So Diana knew how things functioned with her parents- she liked to distantly think of them as colleagues, with fleeting, long ago fondness. Her sister was more complicated. How could she not be? She was young, effectively alone in that big house, with parents who no longer remembered what it was to be a child. And her hyperbole existence was enough to make anyone cast and extra eye, or stretch out an arm, in between her and talk of propriety, husbands and finishing school.
Diana was used to a certain level of ruckus. Stella Maynard was not. So when winter exams became only a week away, and the boarding house filled with the tears, groans and squeals at all hours of night and day- Stella stole up the winding staircase, away from the maddening circus in the living room, and settled her self to revise in the quiet. She jumped when the door opened, but relaxed immediately when she saw it was only Diana. Then her brow furrowed in confusion, as she saw her friend's flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes. She exclaimed in rush, pacing the room.
"I need to get ready now for the meet because I definitely won't have any time after tutoring but all I can ever seem to do, is clear up other people's messes-"
Stella listened, then after pause offered,
"Do you want to come sit?"
After they had talked for a while, Diana's chest began to rise and fall at a more stable pace, and they resolved to distracted themselves with their studies, as Diana also began to get ready for tonight.

"Honestly, who actually needs all these formulas?" Stella mumbled with a scowl, tossing aside her work book.

"You do. To pass this test." Diana pointed out pedantically. As for herself she studied a range of vocabulary, scribbled out in the recognisable scrawl of a certain red head, with flourishing loops and not much care for following the lines. All the while she powdered her cheeks with an unusual ferocity which she attempted to disguise with her pained, drawn smile.

Stella shrugged, brow raising in defiance. "But I don't need to. Not really."

Diana spied her curiously. "Oh really?" She had hardly seen Stella protest about her studies before. Had she kept quiet until now, or was she only just observing it? She had always been quieter than most, and disliked noise when she had to focus- hence her finding refuge upstairs. But the more time Diana spent with her, she began to see the rougher, rebellious side to her. Sometimes she could be as sarcastic as Jane. When it was just Stella and Di together, she could talk and talk by her self at length. At those times Diana saw a bit of Anne in her. Anne from a few years ago, she corrected her self. For now, Anne would hold her rambles back. You could see them, flicker across her face, an endless trail of stories and possibilities. But her mouth remained closed, not even a word of them escaping her lips. Perhaps when they returned to Avonlea, she'd start telling stories again, or allowing her daydreams to colour the world. Diana pleaded against her own logical response. She refused the believe, in any circumstance, that Anne had possibly grown-up.