(no subject)
lets see:
He wasn’t the sort of boy…
He wasn’t the sort of boy who was used to being ignored. It’s not that he felt as if he was more significant than any other boy in Avonlea, not so. It was just that he was the sort of boy that drew a person’s attention. With his warm hazel eyes and thick, dark curly hair, girls flocked to him in giggling groups and flushed cheeks, wanting to gain his attention and hoping for a tease. The bolder ones even went as far as to drop their books in anticipation that he would respond by offering to walk them home while holding the readers. Gilbert was used to this; was used to the silly ringlet-ed girls with the dazed eyes, was used to the envious boys who tried to copy his behavior.
And so Gilbert grew up a popular boy, and after returning from the West he found himself stuck in a class with children younger than him. He had friends, yes. One could not grow up in a place such as Avonlea without acquiring mates. However, Gilbert was the sort of boy who gave the impression of having a shallow, teasing, surface. He had the ability of reflecting his surroundings off himself like a mirror- he let those around him see just what he wanted them to see and that wasn’t usually a lot. Because of his uncanny ability to fit in even when he knew he didn’t, Gilbert found himself to be very popular- and found that everyone else established that he was a shallow, easygoing chap. And that was alright, because Gilbert knew better, his superb grades spoke for themselves. Gilbert had a plan, oh yes; he was a young man whose heart and head were full to the brim with ambitions. He would show everyone in Avonlea, nay, the World! Gilbert Blythe had plans, full proof plans- he was going places.
However, he was still a young man. Being only 16, Gilbert figured he could spend some time pulling the pigtails of Joanne Moss, and making fun of Diana Berry’s dark hair. He laughed to himself at the anticipated reactions; the blushing cheeks, the fluttering lashes- it didn’t bother him. The girl’s weren’t interesting, they just looked amusing. When they blushed it looked like a sun burn, when they fluttered their lashes it looked like a bug had gotten in their eye, or they were squinting pathetically in the bright sunlight. Gilbert figured all girls were like that- ridiculous, yet fun to laugh at. So imagine his bemusement when he winked at one and was snubbed. Snubbed! Him, Gilbert Blythe! He was so astonished he didn’t quite know what to do. Naturally he stood up and opened his mouth to call out to her, to ask Anne Shirley, he had discovered her name not ten minutes before, why she deigned to turn her pretty little nose away from him! Except, in Gilbert’s haste to talk to her, he quite forgot that his left foot was still tied to his partner’s- Moody. It was an embarrassing reminder of his defeat in the three legged race- he was not making a wonderful impression. Thus, sadly, Gilbert only managed to go half a step before he stumbled forward, mimicked a windmill in an attempt to catch himself, and ultimately tripped, finding himself back on the grass. After suffering through a friendly taunt thanks to Moody, Gilbert looked up to find that that Anne-girl had disappeared without so much as a backward glance or polite inquiry concerning his fall.
And Gilbert, much to his chagrin, was hooked.
He prepared himself that Monday before heading off to school. Oh yes, he had himself fully prepared. He had spent the time since the picnic trying to talk himself through her reaction to his wink. ‘It had to have been bad lighting,’ he thought. For surely this Anne-girl was susceptible to his charms. Surely she would respond just as all the other silly girls did. With funny flushed faces and batting eyelashes. Yes, it must have been the weather. Or perhaps she was just shy- a likely theory. Because, as noted before, Gilbert Blythe was not the sort of boy who was used to being ignored. He was going to put all of his energy into teasing her, he was going to make her blush and stutter, and then he would see that his conclusions about girls were in fact justified, and right- for Gilbert was not used to being wrong either. Especially in matters concerning silly school girls.
He got to the school house early, so as to avoid Josie Pye who had become rather clingy as of late. He sat himself down across the aisle from the only other empty seat in the girls’ section of the school room. He knew she would be sitting there. Sure enough, when school began its session, Gilbert found himself in just the situation he wanted to be in: tossing crumpled up pieces of paper at that Anne-girl. After the eighth piece bounced off her head, without her reacting with so much as a red cheek, Gilbert was beginning to doubt his plan. This girl was different; she didn’t seem to be responding with the obscene fluttering of lashes. Actually, Gilbert recalled that after the initial piece of paper she had stiffened up, which was definitely not part of the plan. Gilbert decided a different approach was needed. He was surprised to find that he had to resort to name calling. Usually on his first tease he got the classic reaction- especially if he had never talked to the girl before.
‘What could I call her,’ Gilbert asked himself. ‘There’s really nothing particularly bad about her looks, though her clothes are rather dull.’ However, Gilbert was the sort of wholesome boy who knew that one could not make fun of another’s situation in life, because it was terribly rude- not to mention non Christian. Besides, he had heard she was an orphan, and he was old enough to realize what an asylum must be like. That still, however, did not solve the problem of what to call her in order to accomplish his plan. Gilbert rather liked her looks. In fact, he was rather surprised at how much he admired her. He had caught himself staring at her a, unheard of, five times that morning! So really, he was not only digging for a fluttering eye-lash reaction for amusement, but Gilbert was also rather afraid he might actually like to look at this Anne-girl. ‘And that,’ He thought. ‘Just wasn’t possible. She’s a silly girl just like every other girl and I’m going to prove it!’ So he decided he would pick on her hair. A vibrant shade of red, it was just about the same shade as his favorite color, and Gilbert felt a weird feeling in his stomach at that thought. He squirmed in his seat, still clutching his reader, so he was seemingly paying attention to his studies.
‘Yes, the hair, it’s perfect. Perfect for name calling that is.’ Gilbert furrowed his brow and stared hard at his literature reader. Now he had to decide what to call it. He supposed he could call her a Cardinal, like he called Diana Berry Crow, but that didn’t seem so much an insult. He could call her fox, but her hair wasn’t nearly that red it was more of a bright oran…ge. Ah- he had it!
Gilbert prepared himself, he let go of his reader, licked his lips and leaned diagonally across the way.
“Carrots!” He hissed teasingly, and then leaned back quickly in his seat lest the teacher look up from Prissy Andrews and catch him bothering the girls. He watched her stiffen, but frowned as she did not blush or turn around. Quite unpredictably frustrated himself, Gilbert leaned across again, reached his hand out, grabbed a surprisingly soft braid, and tugged-
“Psst!...Carrots!” And he got his reaction.
In retrospect, later that day and many years following that, Gilbert Blythe figured he had had it coming to him.
“Really,” He supposed one night, as he leaned back in his favorite chair and held his wife’s hand. “One can only tease people so much before something happens. It was just a matter of time.”
But at that time, the last thing that 16 year old Gilbert Blythe expected as he leaned back in his seat flushed with victory, was for the little red-head to stand up, turn around with fire in her eyes, call him a “hateful boy”, and on top of that proceed to break a slate over his head! He watched, after his stuttering attempt to get her out of trouble- it was his fault he reasoned but why, WHY was he stuttering-, as she was marched to the front board. He watched as she wrote her lines- Anne Shirley has a very bad temper. And he suffered through mortification as he felt his cheeks turn red. ‘How is it,’ Gilbert pondered sullenly. ‘That she got this reaction out of me, and why do I want to apologize so badly?’
One thing was for sure, Anne Shirley was unlike any one, any girl he had ever met. Throughout the day, Gilbert Blythe formed a plan. He would apologize to that Anne-girl and then he would go about getting to know her while investigating that funny feeling in his stomach- the feeling of which Gilbert had a dawning suspicion of. Yes, he had a plan, a full proof plan.
Snubbed! Again! How did this girl do it! Gilbert Blythe had a dilemma, along with a stomach ach which he had assessed and drawn his own conclusions to. He was walking home arm in arm with a girl, yet he was looking over his shoulder longingly at another one. He opened his mouth to say something back to the red-head, got a yank from Josie Pye, and was forced to turn around in order to straighten out his feet as he stumbled. That Anne-girl had snubbed him, him! Now, Gilbert Blythe was not the sort of boy who was used to being ignored- nay, snubbed! And he was going to do something about it. And as he walked home, an unfortunate companion of Josie Pye, he snuck glances over his shoulder at the Anne Shirley-girl, whose red hair, done in braids, seemed to soak in and reflect the sunlight causing her head to become- if possible- more vibrant. ‘My favorite color,’ Gilbert moaned to himself. ‘And she thinks I hate her- and what’s more she hates me! And I shouldn’t have called her carrots, I shouldn’t have picked fun even though I wanted a response from her-I wanted to be noticed.’ But she had turned red, Gilbert acknowledged somewhat smugly. And it had been quite funny the way her faced clashed with her hair, the way her big eyes got all sparkly and filled up with fire, and she was quite adorable when she was angry.
‘I’m in trouble,’ He thought morosely, trying to tug his arm away from the clinging Josie Pye. ‘That Anne-girl is something else.’
And years later, as he leaned back in his favorite chair and stroked his wife’s hand while casting her a look of adoration, Gilbert Blythe could not deny the fact that yes, his Anne-girl was something else in deed.
wut now.
He wasn’t the sort of boy…
He wasn’t the sort of boy who was used to being ignored. It’s not that he felt as if he was more significant than any other boy in Avonlea, not so. It was just that he was the sort of boy that drew a person’s attention. With his warm hazel eyes and thick, dark curly hair, girls flocked to him in giggling groups and flushed cheeks, wanting to gain his attention and hoping for a tease. The bolder ones even went as far as to drop their books in anticipation that he would respond by offering to walk them home while holding the readers. Gilbert was used to this; was used to the silly ringlet-ed girls with the dazed eyes, was used to the envious boys who tried to copy his behavior.
And so Gilbert grew up a popular boy, and after returning from the West he found himself stuck in a class with children younger than him. He had friends, yes. One could not grow up in a place such as Avonlea without acquiring mates. However, Gilbert was the sort of boy who gave the impression of having a shallow, teasing, surface. He had the ability of reflecting his surroundings off himself like a mirror- he let those around him see just what he wanted them to see and that wasn’t usually a lot. Because of his uncanny ability to fit in even when he knew he didn’t, Gilbert found himself to be very popular- and found that everyone else established that he was a shallow, easygoing chap. And that was alright, because Gilbert knew better, his superb grades spoke for themselves. Gilbert had a plan, oh yes; he was a young man whose heart and head were full to the brim with ambitions. He would show everyone in Avonlea, nay, the World! Gilbert Blythe had plans, full proof plans- he was going places.
However, he was still a young man. Being only 16, Gilbert figured he could spend some time pulling the pigtails of Joanne Moss, and making fun of Diana Berry’s dark hair. He laughed to himself at the anticipated reactions; the blushing cheeks, the fluttering lashes- it didn’t bother him. The girl’s weren’t interesting, they just looked amusing. When they blushed it looked like a sun burn, when they fluttered their lashes it looked like a bug had gotten in their eye, or they were squinting pathetically in the bright sunlight. Gilbert figured all girls were like that- ridiculous, yet fun to laugh at. So imagine his bemusement when he winked at one and was snubbed. Snubbed! Him, Gilbert Blythe! He was so astonished he didn’t quite know what to do. Naturally he stood up and opened his mouth to call out to her, to ask Anne Shirley, he had discovered her name not ten minutes before, why she deigned to turn her pretty little nose away from him! Except, in Gilbert’s haste to talk to her, he quite forgot that his left foot was still tied to his partner’s- Moody. It was an embarrassing reminder of his defeat in the three legged race- he was not making a wonderful impression. Thus, sadly, Gilbert only managed to go half a step before he stumbled forward, mimicked a windmill in an attempt to catch himself, and ultimately tripped, finding himself back on the grass. After suffering through a friendly taunt thanks to Moody, Gilbert looked up to find that that Anne-girl had disappeared without so much as a backward glance or polite inquiry concerning his fall.
And Gilbert, much to his chagrin, was hooked.
He prepared himself that Monday before heading off to school. Oh yes, he had himself fully prepared. He had spent the time since the picnic trying to talk himself through her reaction to his wink. ‘It had to have been bad lighting,’ he thought. For surely this Anne-girl was susceptible to his charms. Surely she would respond just as all the other silly girls did. With funny flushed faces and batting eyelashes. Yes, it must have been the weather. Or perhaps she was just shy- a likely theory. Because, as noted before, Gilbert Blythe was not the sort of boy who was used to being ignored. He was going to put all of his energy into teasing her, he was going to make her blush and stutter, and then he would see that his conclusions about girls were in fact justified, and right- for Gilbert was not used to being wrong either. Especially in matters concerning silly school girls.
He got to the school house early, so as to avoid Josie Pye who had become rather clingy as of late. He sat himself down across the aisle from the only other empty seat in the girls’ section of the school room. He knew she would be sitting there. Sure enough, when school began its session, Gilbert found himself in just the situation he wanted to be in: tossing crumpled up pieces of paper at that Anne-girl. After the eighth piece bounced off her head, without her reacting with so much as a red cheek, Gilbert was beginning to doubt his plan. This girl was different; she didn’t seem to be responding with the obscene fluttering of lashes. Actually, Gilbert recalled that after the initial piece of paper she had stiffened up, which was definitely not part of the plan. Gilbert decided a different approach was needed. He was surprised to find that he had to resort to name calling. Usually on his first tease he got the classic reaction- especially if he had never talked to the girl before.
‘What could I call her,’ Gilbert asked himself. ‘There’s really nothing particularly bad about her looks, though her clothes are rather dull.’ However, Gilbert was the sort of wholesome boy who knew that one could not make fun of another’s situation in life, because it was terribly rude- not to mention non Christian. Besides, he had heard she was an orphan, and he was old enough to realize what an asylum must be like. That still, however, did not solve the problem of what to call her in order to accomplish his plan. Gilbert rather liked her looks. In fact, he was rather surprised at how much he admired her. He had caught himself staring at her a, unheard of, five times that morning! So really, he was not only digging for a fluttering eye-lash reaction for amusement, but Gilbert was also rather afraid he might actually like to look at this Anne-girl. ‘And that,’ He thought. ‘Just wasn’t possible. She’s a silly girl just like every other girl and I’m going to prove it!’ So he decided he would pick on her hair. A vibrant shade of red, it was just about the same shade as his favorite color, and Gilbert felt a weird feeling in his stomach at that thought. He squirmed in his seat, still clutching his reader, so he was seemingly paying attention to his studies.
‘Yes, the hair, it’s perfect. Perfect for name calling that is.’ Gilbert furrowed his brow and stared hard at his literature reader. Now he had to decide what to call it. He supposed he could call her a Cardinal, like he called Diana Berry Crow, but that didn’t seem so much an insult. He could call her fox, but her hair wasn’t nearly that red it was more of a bright oran…ge. Ah- he had it!
Gilbert prepared himself, he let go of his reader, licked his lips and leaned diagonally across the way.
“Carrots!” He hissed teasingly, and then leaned back quickly in his seat lest the teacher look up from Prissy Andrews and catch him bothering the girls. He watched her stiffen, but frowned as she did not blush or turn around. Quite unpredictably frustrated himself, Gilbert leaned across again, reached his hand out, grabbed a surprisingly soft braid, and tugged-
“Psst!...Carrots!” And he got his reaction.
In retrospect, later that day and many years following that, Gilbert Blythe figured he had had it coming to him.
“Really,” He supposed one night, as he leaned back in his favorite chair and held his wife’s hand. “One can only tease people so much before something happens. It was just a matter of time.”
But at that time, the last thing that 16 year old Gilbert Blythe expected as he leaned back in his seat flushed with victory, was for the little red-head to stand up, turn around with fire in her eyes, call him a “hateful boy”, and on top of that proceed to break a slate over his head! He watched, after his stuttering attempt to get her out of trouble- it was his fault he reasoned but why, WHY was he stuttering-, as she was marched to the front board. He watched as she wrote her lines- Anne Shirley has a very bad temper. And he suffered through mortification as he felt his cheeks turn red. ‘How is it,’ Gilbert pondered sullenly. ‘That she got this reaction out of me, and why do I want to apologize so badly?’
One thing was for sure, Anne Shirley was unlike any one, any girl he had ever met. Throughout the day, Gilbert Blythe formed a plan. He would apologize to that Anne-girl and then he would go about getting to know her while investigating that funny feeling in his stomach- the feeling of which Gilbert had a dawning suspicion of. Yes, he had a plan, a full proof plan.
Snubbed! Again! How did this girl do it! Gilbert Blythe had a dilemma, along with a stomach ach which he had assessed and drawn his own conclusions to. He was walking home arm in arm with a girl, yet he was looking over his shoulder longingly at another one. He opened his mouth to say something back to the red-head, got a yank from Josie Pye, and was forced to turn around in order to straighten out his feet as he stumbled. That Anne-girl had snubbed him, him! Now, Gilbert Blythe was not the sort of boy who was used to being ignored- nay, snubbed! And he was going to do something about it. And as he walked home, an unfortunate companion of Josie Pye, he snuck glances over his shoulder at the Anne Shirley-girl, whose red hair, done in braids, seemed to soak in and reflect the sunlight causing her head to become- if possible- more vibrant. ‘My favorite color,’ Gilbert moaned to himself. ‘And she thinks I hate her- and what’s more she hates me! And I shouldn’t have called her carrots, I shouldn’t have picked fun even though I wanted a response from her-I wanted to be noticed.’ But she had turned red, Gilbert acknowledged somewhat smugly. And it had been quite funny the way her faced clashed with her hair, the way her big eyes got all sparkly and filled up with fire, and she was quite adorable when she was angry.
‘I’m in trouble,’ He thought morosely, trying to tug his arm away from the clinging Josie Pye. ‘That Anne-girl is something else.’
And years later, as he leaned back in his favorite chair and stroked his wife’s hand while casting her a look of adoration, Gilbert Blythe could not deny the fact that yes, his Anne-girl was something else in deed.
wut now.