Anne leaned halfway out of the window, upper body braced against the frame. She trailed her fingers through the blossoms on the tree outside her window. Earlier that day, she'd handed in her final essay for the semester. She couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than to await Paul's visit in the company of one of her favorite trees. She leaned farther, going onto tip-toes, to bury her nose in the soft white blooms. The scentless flowers tickled her nose. She drew back and scratched the shapely organ.
"Anne!" called a familiar voice, and Anne waved joyously to her friend. He looked much taller and older, and his curly hair was beginning to grow out of control.
"I'll be right out, Paul!" She hurried down the long front hallway of her share house and opened the front door. "How have you been?" She pulled him into a hug.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it, Anne," he said, extricating himself from the hug and looking up at Anne. "Remember that a few months ago I finally finished my morning oatmeal? Well, Grandma started giving me more oatmeal, and it's been tough, but this morning I finished the whole thing." The corners of his mouth quirked up, and he joined Anne in laughter. It was so good to see him laugh. Sometimes he seemed so solemn.
"If you keep that up, you'll be taller than me by the end of the year," Anne said, ruffling Paul's hair and leading him inside. She and Paul stopped to take an appreciative whiff of the air. "You'll have to help me eat all the croissants I made! Would you like some tea? Hot chocolate?" She cooed at Rusty, perched on the counter, before moving him to the floor. She got out a saucepan and milk.
"Oh, Anne, you shouldn't have. I'm still full from all that oatmeal." Paul looked at the cookie sheets full of cooling croissants. "Never mind!" Anne slid a plate across the counter towards Paul, who caught it with one hand. He began piling croissants onto it. Anne snagged two mugs out of the cupboard overhead and poured milk into each. Paul sank his teeth into one of the croissants and groaned, eyes closed.
"Shh, don't tell your grandmother," she said, taking out half a bar of chocolate and breaking it into half. She dropped each half into one of the mugs of hot milk. "Here, stir this," she said, handing Paul a spoon. She laughed at the sight of Paul stirring the hot chocolate with a flaky croissant clamped between his teeth. "So, you finally finished your oatmeal. What else have you been up to?"
Paul set the croissant onto the plate and brushed the buttery crumbs off his hands. "Well, we took a field trip to the science museum and learned about space. Space is so weird, Anne. And Grandma is considering getting a cat, but only because of the mouse problem." He took a long sip of hot chocolate. "I played my last soccer game last week and this guy on the other team split my lip. Oh, and I wrote a poem that got published in a book of kids' poetry! Though I'm not a kid, am I, Anne?"
"No, you're not a kid," laughed Anne, remembering when she worried about the same thing. "That's wonderful, Paul! Your first piece in print! What was it about?" She folded the counter-wiping rag by the sink and sat down by Paul with her own plate of croissants. She thought back to her own first published piece, the advertisement for Rollings Reliable Baking Powder. How upset she'd been with Diana, though of course she never showed it.
"Good question," said Paul, frowning. "I'm not sure. I started writing something about space—this was after the museum—and it got away from me. Something like the web of the universe dipping and folding, and us swaying with the rhythm, our loves and lives all part of the cosmic dance..." He shook his head and took a big bite of croissant. Butter leaked out of the croissant and onto the corner of his dimpled mouth. He took the napkin Anne offered him and wiped away the butter.
"I have written many, many pieces that have gotten away from me, too. Though I don't think I've ever written about space. Maybe I should." Anne bit into her croissant and melted. "These turned out very well, don't you think?"
"Of course!" Paul said, grabbing his fourth croissant. "Oh, I almost forgot. Grandma gave me this note to give you." Paul dropped the croissant onto his plate. He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "It's instructions for this weekend."
Anne unfolded the sheet of legal paper. "She says tomorrow we're going to tour the high school at two, and Sunday we're supposed to go to church." She scanned the rest of the sheet. "She also leaves instructions about what we're supposed to eat." She set the note on the counter and turned to see if she had all the ingredients Mrs. Irving had requested. As she sorted through vegetables in the crisper, she commented, "I'm afraid we can't go to church."
"Mmph?" Paul asked, croissant crumbs raining down.
"This is such a small town that there isn't a Presbyterian church here," Anne said, shutting the fridge. She set a handful of potatoes on the cutting board and began to dice them. "I just enjoy the outdoors." She gazed out the window, her knife drooping from one hand. The hills, currently green, rolled down to the river at the bottom of the valley. She shook her head and returned to her potatoes. "Now come over here and peel some carrots for me." Paul finished his hot chocolate with a dramatic slurp and joined Anne at the cutting board. Anne dropped a kiss on his curly head and passed him the peeler.
Paul drifted to wakefulness as buttery sunlight poked him in the eyelids. He couldn't remember where he was. He opened his eyes to a room he knew couldn't be his grandmother's. While it was as neat and tidy as possible, the bookshelf in the corner held a collection Paul knew could only be Anne's. One shelf held feathers and delicate eggshells in blue, brown, and speckled white. A collection of pebbles, shells, and crystals held court on the next shelf down. The next shelf held pressed flowers and leaves. Paul sat up. He pulled the covers off his legs and swung his feet to the worn floorboards. He padded over and picked up a pink shell speckled with brown.
"Are you up?" called Anne's voice from behind the door. Paul jumped and caught the shell before it had fallen far, settling it back onto a puff of cotton wool on the shelf. He wiped his palms on his flannel pajama bottoms.
"I'm awake and decent!" Paul called back, folding the blankets into a neat stack. A couple of them looked like Mrs. Lynde's work. Paul guessed that Anne and her housemates had crocheted the others. He wished his blankets at home were this cool. He closed his eyes and sighed. He had caught himself being critical of his grandmother so often lately, and he didn't mean to complain. He shouldn't complain.
"Good morning," Anne chirped, taking the blankets from him and stowing them away. "Stella's making pancakes. You'll want to get some before Phil eats them all." She lowered her voice. "Her girlfriend Joan came back from Sweden yesterday. They stayed up until 3 celebrating. Phil has a bit of a hangover." Anne glanced at Paul's pajama pants. "I'll leave you to change!"
Paul laughed as he closed the door behind her. Good old Anne. She could make anyone feel at home right away. He swapped his sleeping shirt and flannel bottoms for a button down and khakis. Spitting his toothpaste into the sink, he gave his reflection the once-over. It would have been good to get a haircut, but it was too late now. Instead, he slicked some gel through his dark curls and smoothed a finger over each of his eyebrows. He wanted to make a good impression on this tour for his grandmother's sake.
He exited the bathroom, passing one of Anne's house mates, and hurried downstairs. One girl leaned against the counter prodding the pancakes with a spatula. Another lounged across two bar stools, sunglasses on and plate loaded. Anne was chopping peaches and humming a song from The Beauty and the Beast. The electric kettle in the corner whistled and belched steam.
"Good morning, Paul!" Anne smiled. She pointed to the girl manning the griddle. "That's Stella." Stella waved her spatula at Paul. "And that's Phil." She pointed to the one wearing sunglasses. "Everybody, this is Paul-"
"Oh, you used to tutor him, right?" Stella asked, flipping two golden pancakes onto a plate and passing it to Paul. Paul nodded and began scooping peaches onto his pancakes. Anne passed him a jug of cream.
"'Sup?" Phil asked. She flashed Paul a half-hearted peace sign as she shoveled another bite of pancakes into her mouth. Paul sat on the only bar stool she hadn't taken and tucked his feet under the bottom bar.
"She's not usually like that," Stella told Paul in a stage whisper. She poured batter onto the griddle in two perfect circles. "It's her hangover making her like this." She picked up her own plate and took a bite of pancake.
"Love you too, Stella," Phil mumbled, flipping her off. Paul watched Phil from under his generous fringe of lashes. He'd never been around hungover people before. He watched a glob of syrup make its way down her chin.
Stella waved her spatula at Phil. "Not in front of the child!"
"I'm not a child," Paul protested, setting down his fork. "I'm a teenager." Stella and Anne exchanged a glance and grinned. "I'm thirteen," Paul muttered, giving up and digging into his pancakes.
Stella flipped the last of the pancakes. She set her plate on the counter next to Paul's and shoved one of Phil's shoulders. "Come on, move, these are for everyone." Phil groaned and moved over so that she occupied only one chair. Anne pulled up a chair from the living room and joined everyone else at the kitchen island.
"What's the plan for today, Stella?" Anne asked, spearing a peach.
Stella did a little dance, drops of cream flying everywhere from her fork. Anne wiped some drops off her cheek. "Today I'm celebrating the end of semester! I'm going to drive into the city and do the touristy bit." She danced over to the stove, hips popping, to turn off the griddle.
"Are you also going to see Emma?" Anne insinuated, winking at Paul.
Stella, who'd been looking at Anne, went pink and turned her back on everyone. "Well, yes, she sort of invited herself along." Stella washed the bowl and measuring cups with utmost attention. Paul and Anne chuckled into their pancakes. "What are you and Paul doing today, then?" Stella asked. Anne glanced at Paul.
"We're touring a boarding school today," Paul said, stabbing his pancakes. "I might start going there in the fall." Anne set down her fork and leaned over to touch his arm. Paul leaned away from her hand. "It's fine, I don't mind either way about it." He chased a slice of peach around his plate before capturing it and popping it in his mouth whole.
"The tour isn't until two, so I thought we would drive around a bit first and see the countryside." Anne looked up at Priscilla's entrance. "Good morning, Pris! This is Paul, you've heard me talk about him, right?"
"Oh yes, I've heard lots of stories," Priscilla said, shaking Paul's hand. She made herself a plate of pancakes. "What brings you out here to the middle of nowhere?"
"We're touring a potential school this afternoon," Anne said. She watched Paul eat without pause. She got up to get herself another pancake and drizzled it with syrup. Pris nodded sagely, also watching Paul, and pulled up a chair for herself. Paul glared at them both from beneath his lashes. He hadn't realized his feelings about this new school were so obvious. He had thought he was a better liar than that, not that he lied often.
"What are you doing today, Pris?" asked Anne, and the girls discussed their plans. Paul got up and rinsed his dishes. The dishwasher had a little sign on it that said clean dishes in Anne's practical cursive. He stacked his dishes in the bottom of the sink and reached to open the dishwasher.
Anne noticed and waved him off. "We'll do that later. We have to go if we want to see anything before two!" So she and Paul waved their goodbyes to the gang and bundled into Anne and Priscilla's old Bug. The car was loaded down with snacks, hiking boots, and reusable water bottles. Anne pointed out various attractions on a paper map. Paul chose a waterfall and a former one-room schoolhouse moonlighting as a museum. Anne popped Adele into the stereo and they were off. They sang along to the music, Paul singing dramatically into a water-bottle microphone. They pointed out horses and cows along the grassy country highway. Now and again Anne would launch into a story of her adventures in this meadow or along that crossroad. These stories enthralled Paul. Anne was fearless, and she seemed to have a million friends. He had friends, but he still sometimes felt lonely. He didn't have one best friend he could tell anything to. Anne had Pris and Stella and Phil and Gilbert and Diana.
"Here we are!" Anne said, driving down a little side road to a graveled parking lot. She jerked the gear into park. She reached over the seat to grab her hiking boots and the boots they'd borrowed from Stella's younger brother. She set her flats on the floor and laced up her boots. "Ready?" She looked over to see Paul's laces in a tangle. "Here, look, you loop the laces over the hooks, cross them, and loop them again. Then tie them." Paul held his hands up, relinquishing control, and Anne fixed the laces. They got out of the car and stood for a second in the radiant warming light. It graced the leaves on the nearby flowering trees, turning them to peridot and emerald, and glittered off the river far below. Anne and Paul gripped the railing at the edge of the ravine. Below them, rocks perched precariously above the frothing water. Scraggly trees clung to handfuls of dirt between the rocks.
The pair ambled down the path to the waterfall, exclaiming all the way. Paul thought he could feel a poem coming on. "This looks like a postcard," he said. He looked over the edge of the pathway at the thickets of green vegetation on the other side of the ravine. "It looks like where elves would come to do their washing, just down there on that big flat rock. And if you listen you can hear the rocks and the water having a conversation."
Anne's eyes shone. "I daresay they're talking about how beautiful it is today. I bet they feel like their souls could soar away and join the clouds. That's how I feel right now." She paused in the middle of the path and spun in circles, arms thrown out to either side. "I think my soul is most like a tree or a flower, but sometimes I'm more like a rock. Grounded in the earth, soaking up the sunshine and holding it within me even when the sun has gone down for the day." They skipped down the path together, dancing around the rocks and tree roots jutting up from the earth, laughing when they almost tripped, grabbing hands for an instant when they did trip, waving their arms in the air to enjoy the breeze.
When they got to the overlook, both sat on the edge of the platform and dangled their legs between the bars. Paul exulted in the feeling of spray across his legs. He leaned back, closing his eyes, soaking it all in. Anne pressed her face to the bars and watched the rainbows caught in the droplets. They watched clouds drift by and spun yarns about what lived in the caves behind the waterfall. Eventually, Paul let Anne pull him up, and they walked back to the car. They kept a careful eye out for birds and animals along the path. Once there, Anne checked her watch and gasped. "We'll have to do the schoolhouse tomorrow. If we don't hurry, we'll be late!" They leapt into the car. Paul swapped back into his loafers while Anne threw the car into reverse and left the lot. He munched on a granola bar, careful to catch any crumbs in a napkin. Anne held her hand out. Paul dropped a granola bar into her hand.
"Do you want to put on a CD?" Anne asked, checking over her shoulder as she merged onto the highway. She unwrapped the granola bar with one hand and took a careful bite, laughing as oats rained down on her lap. Paul flipped through the CDs stacked in the glove compartment and settled on Hozier. This time, instead of singing, he stared out the window. Anne snuck glances at him from time to time. Paul was struck by how lovely her voice was as she sang along to Hozier under her breath. As far as he knew, she hadn't sung in public much. She'd read poetry at various events, though, and she'd done debate for a while. Debate reminded him of the issue at hand: high school. He didn't want to go to this school. True, he'd be closer to Anne. He could see himself spending every weekend at the cozy share house, eating delicious breakfasts and writing poetry. But he had a few friends at home he wouldn't want to leave. He wasn't good at social media, so his friendships relied on shared soccer games, jokes, and the like. They wouldn't survive in the same way.
On the other hand, who knew what he could build here? Avonlea was a bit of a dead end romance-wise. There weren't many boys who liked boys on the island, at least not ones that made it public knowledge. This school was near a big city. He could make friends, maybe more. He looked away from the window and took an apple out of the massive picnic basket Anne had packed that morning.
"Ready?" Anne asked, smiling over at him, looking as though she knew exactly what was going through his head. He supposed she might. After all, she'd gone to boarding school, too. That was where she'd met the gang. And now she was away from home for university, though now that she was an adult, that was something she'd have to get used to.
"Ready." Paul accepted her fist bump and shook his head. "That's really nerdy coming from you, Anne."
"Isn't that my job? To be your nerdy former tutor that studies books from hundreds of years ago and offers awkward fist bumps?" Anne grinned at him and turned off the highway. "We're almost here."
The school was a gorgeous old building set in rolling lawns, with a garden peeking out from behind it and various sporting courts dotted off in the distance. It looked exactly like a postcard.
"Is this real?" Paul asked, turning to Anne.
She locked the car and put her hands on her hips. "I think so. It's beautiful, isn't it? Cordelia would love to live here..."
"Who's Cordelia?" Paul asked.
Anne shook her head absently. "Oh, someone I knew when I was little. Let's go, we only have a few minutes!" She nudged Paul until he fell in step beside her. He grabbed her hand as they mounted the steps, so she stopped and turned to him. "It's hard to make new friends, but you can do it, Paul! You're so good at poetry and soccer and you'll have a wonderful time here. It's a great school. You can learn all about space, or Greek mythology, or art, and you'll be inspired, you'll see!" She waited until he nodded and gave him a hug. He opened the massive front doors, and she followed.
Paul couldn't help being impressed. The school had great facilities for just about everything. They even had an astronomy department. The school was located far from the nearest city, so there was hardly any light pollution. He took a peek through the telescope and was stunned to see a shooting star. Anne, of course, was taken with the school's rare book collection. Paul gasped over that too, though he tried not to let it show. The principal finished off the tour by showing them their other gardens, the centerpiece of which was a gorgeous fountain. The sun came out from behind the clouds and flashed rainbows at the visitors.
"It's a sign," Anne and Paul whispered to each other, and laughed.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
They stuck around after the tour, soaking up the school's atmosphere at one of the tiny cafes. Paul ordered a chocolate milkshake ("only because Grandmother would never let me at home!") and Anne, laughing, ordered the same. They watched the students stream by them. One student in particular caught Paul's eye. He was also Latino, though with a much darker complexion than Paul.
Anne raised her eyebrows and followed Paul's gaze before he flicked his eyes away, blushing. "Say hello!" she urged.
"Oh, I couldn't, Anne!" Paul said in agony, hiding behind his milkshake.
Anne sighed when she saw his expression and shrugged. "Your choice."
Surprised that Anne wouldn't push him to talk to the stranger, Paul sat up straighter and looked at the guy out of the corner of his eye. He was just on the other side of the cafe, tossing a hacky sack with some friends, watching to make sure the girl at the counter couldn't see. Then milkshake splattered all over their table. Anne and Paul both shrieked when the cold milkshake hit their skin.
Hacky Sack Boy jogged over to their table. "I'm so, so sorry!" he exclaimed, grabbing napkins from the next table and trying to mop up the milkshake all over the table. "Can I-?"
Paul nodded, and the mysterious boy dabbed at his shirt with the napkins. Anne smirked at Paul over Hacky Sack Boy's shoulders, and Paul glared back. If he hadn't known it was impossible, he'd swear Anne had cooked up a scheme for the boys to toss the Hacky Sack with a little too much force.
"Again, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm Mat. Mateo." He ran a hand through his dark curls. "Are you thinking of going here?"
"I'm Paul," Paul said, smiling. "Yeah, next fall maybe. Do you like it here?"
"It's awesome." Mateo grinned in response. "We have a sick soccer team."
"I love soccer!"
"Yeah? I'm the captain! Come meet the boys!"
Anne smiled at Paul, so he went off with Mateo. She wiped up the rest of the milkshake and leaned her chin in her hands, watching Paul and his new friends. When he came back to her table, half an hour later, Paul's smile could have lit up the room.
"Good?" Anne asked.
"Better than good!"
"Well, we don't have to leave yet," Anne said. "I'll be in the rare books room if you need me." Paul grinned and rejoined the soccer team.
"I think Mateo was flirting with me," Paul confided on the ride home.
"What was he doing?"
"I don't know, he just touched my shoulders and arms a lot. And he smiled a lot. He has a nice smile." Paul swallowed down his own smile and looked solemnly out the window.
"That sounds like a good sign," Anne said, trying not to laugh. "So what did you think of the school?"
"I think I could go here," said Paul. "The telescope was cool."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" Anne said. "It'll be nice to see you more often."
"I'll never leave your house," Paul grinned. "Except when I have soccer practice."
"Perfect." The pair grinned at each other, and Anne offered another fist bump.
"That's still really nerdy, Anne," Paul sighed, returning the gesture.
"I'll take it."
