"Marilla Cuthbert!" came the booming voice of Mr. Davies, the schoolhouse teacher. "I want to know where Marilla Cuthbert is!"

Marilla shyly slid her hand into the air. "I-I'm right here," she stuttered.

Mr. Davies' voice boomed throughout the schoolhouse. "I said, where is Marilla Cuthbert?!"

Marilla wanted to cry, she had never felt so intimidated in her life. She was a well-behaved girl, always doing what was asked of her. Therefore, no one had ever scolded or shouted at her. Marilla felt the world was going to end soon. Life was certainly changing for the worse. At her first day at a new school, the teacher was already yelling at her!

Before she could wipe the tears welling up in her eyes, Marilla felt a slight tap on her shoulder. Quickly turning around, Marilla saw a boy around her own age, with a soft smile on his lips. "Say it again," he encouraged with warm, hazel eyes. "Mr. Davies is practically deaf, and his temper is quite awful. You can do it, I know you can!"

"If Marilla Cuthbert doesn't reveal who she is, someone is going to be in serious trouble. Where is Marilla Cuthbert?" fumed Mr. Davies.

Marilla quietly slid up from her seat, "Here I am, Mr. Davies," she mumbled.

Mr. Davies turned around briskly, and stalked toward Marilla, towering over her. "Ahhh," he said with a scary smile, writing a brief note in a leather-bound book, resting in his big-knuckled hands. "So you are the Marilla Cuthbert I was calling all this time. Welcome to Avonlea, Marilla. And because you are a new student, I will show you mercy. When you hear your name called, you must answer right away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, b-but, I—"

"That would be enough, Miss Cuthbert. Excuses are not allowed in this school. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Yes, who?"

"Yes, Mr. Davies."

"Now class, let's begin the day."

Marilla had never felt so humiliated in her life. At once, a flash of realization struck her in the heart; life would never turn for the better. She stepped back to take a look at her future, and envisioned more dull days, loneliness, and humiliation.

Once again, Marilla was tapped on the shoulder.

She slowly turned around to find the hazel-eyed boy who had encouraged her previously. "I knew you could do it!" he whispered. "Don't worry, Mr. Davies is an awful man. Nobody likes him."

Marilla turned to face the front of the classroom, and smiled. Perhaps life could turn for the better.

"So you were a sensitive girl," Anne began slowly.

Marilla nodded, "Oh yes! I never knew how sensitive I was until I moved to Avonlea. I used to cry for everything. If Matthew was alive, he'd attest to that!"

"Marilla!" marveled Anne. "You never cease to surprise me! I had no idea you were like that! But I must say, why-"

"I thought you promised that you wouldn't interrupt me," Marilla said with a slight smile.

"Sorry about that Marilla. My lips are sealed."

Twelve year old Marilla shivered in the cold, autumn breeze. Alone. Abandoned. Hungry.

She hadn't the time to make her lunch, after doing morning farm work, cleaning the house, and preparing lunch for her father and brother. She came to Avonlea with a clean slate, having high hopes of making friends, because what she needed but never had was a friend. Someone to laugh with, and someone's shoulder to cry on.

The words of her dying mother echoed in her soul, "Whenever you feel lonely, think about me. No matter where I am, or which condition I am in, I will always be there for you."

Tears began to stream down her flushed cheeks, as her heart ached for her dear mother.

"Dear mother," Marilla said through salty tears, "I need you right now. I hate this place, and I want to go back to the States - where you really are. I feel so lonely and deserted. No one wants to talk to me, and the teacher hates me!"

She sighed, it did feel great to say it aloud. After taking a deep breath, Marilla quickly wiped her sniffling nose and looked around. "I'll just take a walk around the school," she said to herself. "A nice saunter will certainly distract me from my awful situation."

Marilla rose from the cold, wooden bench and stretched her thin arms.

"There you are!" came the familiar voice of the boy who talked to her at the schoolhouse. "I've been looking all over for you! I was gonna introduce you to the girls."

Marilla's short, chestnut brown hair went in different directions as she fiercely shook her head. "There will be no need to."

The boy sat beside her on the bench and sighed, "You're awful shy, aren't you."

Marilla shrugged her shoulders, "I dunno."

"You don't like talkin' too."

"I suppose so."

The boy sighed again, "I understand. I know a few people like you."

Marilla was waiting for the strange boy to walk away from her, after a moment of silence. But to her surprise, the boy spoke again.

"Say! I forgot to introduce myself to you!" he exclaimed as he began to chew on a bright, red Honeycrisp apple.

After chewing three, gigantic bites, he placed the ripe apple on the bench, and held out a sun-tanned hand, "John," he said. "The name is John Blythe." After Marilla didn't say anything, John continued. "And you are Marilla, right?"

Marilla nodded as her dark eyes looked hungrily at the delicious apple.

"Would you mind if I call you Mar? I like calling people by their nicknames."

Once again, Marilla shrugged her shoulders, "I dunno. I suppose not."

"Well then, welcome to Avonlea, Mar!" he said. "Where are you from?"

"Well," Marilla began shyly, "I originally came from the States."

John's hazel eyes widened in excitement, "The States?! You mean the United States of America?!"

Marilla managed a smile, her long eyelashes sweeping down as she looked at her fair hands, "Yep, that's what I mean."

"But what made you leave the States? From what I've heard, it's luxury down there!"

Before Marilla could speak, her stomach let out a deep growl, and soon, her skin resembled that of a tomato.

John's eyes widened in realization, "Fiddlesticks! I am so selfish!" he held out the half-chewed apple he was eating. "Here, take this."

Marilla shook her head, "I cannot take what does not belong to me."

John thrust the apple into her shaking hands. "Well now it belongs to you. You need something to eat. Don't worry about me, I already had my lunch. What do you think about the apple? Does it taste good?"

Marilla took a juicy bite, "It-it's delicious," she muttered, using the back of her hand to wipe the sweet juice on her lips. "Thank you."

"No problem!" John said proudly. "The Blythes are known for their apples. Come stop by one day, and my mother will give you a whole basket of 'em!"

He happily watched Marilla devour the apple. "I could bring you lunch every day," he began. "My mother wouldn't mind at all!"

Marilla's head snapped up, "NO!" she practically screamed. "I cannot let you do this!"

"Honest," John said in confusion. "She certainly wouldn't mind!"

"I do not need your help to solve my problems. I will not allow you to bring me lunch!"

And with that, Marilla ran as fast as her legs could take her to the brick schoolhouse, leaving a confused boy, sitting on a wooden bench.

"Marilla, sorry, but I have to say something!" Anne blurted, sitting up.

Marilla shook her head, "What is it then?"

"John was such a nice boy. Why did you have to run away from him when he offered to bring you lunch everyday? That was certainly not nice of you."

Marilla shrugged her shoulders, "I was always taught that it wasn't right to take what could be given to others who need it more."

"What do you mean?"

"Although my family wasn't well-off, there were people in more need."

"I understand now."

"Well then, let's continue the story."

"One quick question!" Anne exclaimed.

"For the good Lord's sake, this will be your last question!"

"When I first met you, I found it strange that you always said 'Fiddlesticks!' when something bad happened. Did you get that from John?"

"Of course I did," Marilla said. "Let's continue the story, shall we?"

"Please continue!" Anne said excitedly, laying back down on the pillow.

That wraps up Chapter 2. Sorry for my poor grammar! I was in one of those moods, being too lazy to edit the story. (Don't judge! I know you can relate!) Moving on, get ready for more adventure and drama! Please leave a review, and give some writing advice. I'd gladly accept it because I want to improve my writing skills. Anyhoo, have a great day/night!

-Kristine