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"Sometimes, you're not very nice."

- Jerry Baynard.

---

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING?"

Charlotte looked up from the book she was scribbling on, her eyes locking with Jerry's. As he tried to glance at her words, she moved the book away from his eye vision. "Writing."

"Writing what?"

"Poetry." Charlotte always found herself to be better at expressing her thoughts and feelings better on paper than towards people.

The two looked up as someone began climbing up the ladder. As Anne came into view, practically jumping towards Jerry, the two jumped, Anne huffing. "What are you doing?"

"Working, you?" Jerry replied. "Doing something boring?"

"Hardly, Nate gave me this book."

"Nate gave me this book," Charlotte mocked in a high pitched tone, Anne turning to look at her with a scowl.

"What's your problem today?"

"There's something wrong with that guy," Jerry replied.

"Why do you say that?" Anne asked.

"I just-"

"Well, I find this book interesting," Anne continued, cutting Jerry off. "And Nate happens to understand that reading is a necessity. Reading is in my life's blood."

Anne shuffled forward, to shove the book in Charlotte's face. "I mean look. Look at this glorious sentence."

Jerry let go of the pitchfork he was holding, letting it clatter on the ground. "Sometimes your not very nice."

"What do you mean?" Anne asked, climbing off the stack of straw to stand next to him.

"No school for me, remember?"

"I could teach you to read," Anne replied. "Words are made up of letters from something called the alphabet. There are twenty six letters in it and it has infinite combinations to make up every word there is."

Jerry just looked back at her.

"Let's start with your name." Anne crouched down in front of the hay stack Charlotte was on, drawing a 'J' in the straw, following it by the other letters in his name. "That's your name."

Anne looked up at the girl in front of here. "Have you left this barn since last night?"

The brunette didn't look up at her, continuing to scribble down words on her papers. "Shush, I'm doing poetry."

"Is being mean your way of showing people you care about them?" Anne asked her, cocking her head as the girl didn't give an answer. "By the way, don't forget we're going to the beach tomorrow."

"I'm so excited," Charlotte replied dully.

—

"Isn't this the most beautiful day there ever was?"

Charlotte looked up at the redhead as her braids whipped in the wind. Anne was sat between Matthew and Marilla, Charlotte in the back. She liked sitting there, at least she had leg room.

"I'm still trying to understand why you two haven't been to the beach since you were children," Anne asked the two Cuthbert's as the carriage moved along the road. She drowned out the conversations out until the carriage stopped, watching as Anne jumped out and ran towards the edge of the cliff.

Charlotte watched as the redhead turned to wave to her, the brunette offered her a wave back. ANne's face lit up as she looked out at the water, at the wind.

The four got to the beach eventually, Charlotte helping lay out the mats while Anne stood there. "Isn't it glorious?"

Charlotte huffed as Anne laughed, sprinting out towards the sea. Marilla rolled her eyes, tuning to Matthew. "Will you stop her?"

"Come in, it's lovely," Anne yelled back at her.

"No it's cold, Anne." Shock molded itself onto Marilla's face as Matthew ran after her.

"Bring her back here."

Charlotte crossed her arms, watching the scene of Marilla yelling at Matthew, Anne yelling at Charlotte to come in the water, Matthew yelling at Marilla to come in. Her eyes widened suddenly as Anne went under the surface of the waves, not coming back up.

Her shoulders relaxed as Matthew lifted Anne out of the sea, the biggest smile on the red heads face as she laughed.

"Anne, are you alright?" marilla yelled out, reciving a wave and a grin from the girl.

Charlotte sighed, sitting down on the mat she layed out, pulling out her poetry book from the inside of her sock. The only way she could get emotions out, or feel anything inside her other than anger was to write down her thoughts.

There was this thing inside her, she didn't feel anything other than rage and hatred at anyone. The other thing inside her was emptiness. She didn't know why, only she hated the feeling. She wished she could be like Anne sometimes. Free, happy, likeable. But she knew she wasn't, and she probably never would be.

—

"Just write another Bert story."

Charlotte looked up from her story towards Diana and Ruby, the two arguing about a story Ruby should write. This was the second time Charlotte had come to these club storytimes, and since the first session, she knew every story Ruby wrote was about Gilbert Blythe.

"Hasn't she used all the possible names ending in Bert yet?" Charlotte muttered.

"She always writes a version of the same thing," Diana replied.

Ruby looked at the two, offended. "No I don't."

"About a dashing here named Albert, Hubert, Rupert, Pilbert-"

"Pilbert?" Ruby interupted Diana. "That's ridiculous, I would never write a story about a boy named Pilbert."

"It's not like we can't tell that your not so cleverly disguised stories are all about Gilbert," Diana spoke.

Ruby spoke louder, her voice overlappig Diana's. "Well, you always murder everyone because you don't know what do to with your characters."

Once Ruby had registered what Diana had said, an appaled look drifted across her face, followed by desperation. "No, they're not!"

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "That's a big fat lie."

Ruby turned to look at her. "How else am I supposed to deal with the fact he's been gone for eight months and three days and he may never come back?"

"How about you write about that?" Charlotte smiled sarcastically. "Girl who has never talked to hero, upset because he dies on battlefield without ever even looking at her."

"You're not helping," Ruby whinged. "My heart is breaking and it will break even more if I never get to see him again. Charlotte do you not miss him at all?"

Charlotte shrugged. Her and Ruby had become good friends since the fire. She did miss Gilbert, only a small bit. Though she missed him enough to dedicate letters to him, but didn't miss him so much she would ever send them. "I haven't thought about it."

"How about a tale of a sad and handsome scientist who one day stumbled upon a secret that could save the world?" Anne said to Ruby.

"However do you think of amazing things all the time?" Diana asked. "I almost forgot, I've got a lette from Aunt Josephine. She's very keen to read some of our stories. Let's only send her our very best."

"Well, we should then send her all of Anne's," Ruby said.

"Let's send her one each, to be fair," Anne replied. "Charlotte, will you send some of your poetry?"

"No," Charlotte replied instantly. "That's only for me."

"Well, what about the stories you've been working on, or those little letters that you write for fun-"

"I said no."

---

22/12/2023

I'm now realizing I've written up to the Christmas chapter, but there is no way I'll be able to get it out in three days. 

Just wanted to say that.

And thank you for 1k reads. Hopefully you are all enjoying this book!