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༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶


" But I didn't take it "

- Anne Shirley




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CHARLOTTE LET OUT A GROAN, fiddling with the collar of her dress. The feeling of it strangling her was itching at her throat.

"Stop messing," Marilla scoffed as the three walked under cherry trees towards the Barry's. Marilla looked away from Charlotte and towards Anne. "Whatever is the matter with you child, you havent said a word since we left. You're not yourself."

The three walked up the road towards the house, Charlotte squinting her eyes in the sun to see Diana, her sister and her mother standing outside the house waiting for them.

"Good Afternoon Miss Cuthbert."

"Afternoon Mrs. Barry," Marilla nodded.

"Please, call me Eliza."

Charlotte silently snickered, earning herself an elbow in the ribs from Marilla.

"And you must be Anne."

Charlotte frowned as Anne simply nodded. In the day she had known the girl, she hadn't gone more than seven seconds without speaking, now she was silent.

"Good afternoon," Diana smiled at Anne.

"Afternoon," Anne replied politely.

Charlotte didn't say anything, only eying Diana up and down.

"Thank you for having us, Eliza," Marilla said.

"Marilla, Anne, Charlotte, please come in."

Charlotte clenched her jaw, catching the forced smile plastered on Diana's mothers pampered face. She didn't want to be there in that moment, she would rather be riding her horse through the field. Diana wasn't her friend, just another girl from Charlottes class.



"I don't believe you said two word during tea."

"Scared me if I'm honest," Charlotte mumbled, walking behind Diana and Anne,

"You didn't even remark on the cake," Diana continued. "Mother let me help her bake it special. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Anne smiled at her. "The cake was scrumptious."

"Have you always been shy or does it come from being an orphan?"

"Trust me Diana, this one is not shy," Charlotte scoffed, throwing her head back to admire the sky. She had always loved nature. It cleared her head, like a getaway for her head when she was stressed, or studying.

"I'm less shy than reticent," Anne said, picking at her fingernails.

"Goodness, there's another twenty-five cent word," Diana chuckled lightly.

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 ᵍⁱˡᵇᵉʳᵗ ᵇˡʸᵗʰᵉWhere stories live. Discover now