Winter had wrapped Avonlea in its cold embrace, the days shortened and the nights long and filled with the whisper of snow against the windows. For Thomas, the season brought with it a relentless pace of work, both in his efforts to catch up academically and in the myriad tasks required to bring their homestead up to scratch.
The classroom was abuzz with anticipation as Mr. Phillips organized a spelling bee, an academic duel that pitted boys against girls, igniting a friendly but fierce competition. As the contest whittled down its participants, the tension heightened, leaving Anne and Tillie for the girls, and Gilbert, Moody, and Thomas for the boys.
The word "Amorous" proved to be Tillie's downfall, her misstep drawing a collective sigh from the girls' side. Moody, too, faltered at "Gorgeous," his elimination evening the odds but ramping up the pressure on those remaining.
Then came a series of rounds that saw Anne, Gilbert, and Thomas showcasing their spelling prowess, their correct answers volleying back and forth much to Mr. Phillips's growing concern for time. Recognizing the stalemate, Mr. Phillips made a decision that took everyone by surprise.
"Thomas, you'll have to take a seat. We could be here until sundown otherwise," Mr. Phillips announced, a hint of regret in his voice for having to alter the course of the competition.
Reluctantly, Thomas complied, feeling a mix of disappointment and pride as he took his seat among his peers, their applause a warm acknowledgment of his performance. Now, it was down to Anne and Gilbert, the final contenders in this linguistic standoff. A few more words and both were yet to yield.
However, as Thomas observed from his seat, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. Anne, for all her focus, appeared increasingly uneasy, a contrast to her usual composed demeanor during academic challenges.
Then came the moment that would define the contest. "Engagement," Mr. Phillips pronounced, from somewhere at the back of the classroom.
The room held its breath, every student hanging on the ensuing silence. And then, the unexpected slip—Gilbert omitted the critical 'e' after the 'g,' a mistake that seemed uncharacteristic of him, especially given the stakes.
The girls' side of the room erupted in victory, their cheers and applause filling the space as Anne was declared the winner. Yet, amidst the celebration, Thomas remained contemplative, his eyes on Gilbert. The briefest moment of confusion had cost Gilbert the contest, but the immediate, almost nonchalant correction he offered while congratulating Anne hinted at something more.
As Gilbert took his seat, Thomas gave him a puzzling look, receiving only a shrug as a response. Soon after the lessons for the day were over and students dispersed.
Thomas burst through the door of the Creekside Manor, brushing a flurry of snow out of his hair and glanced towards the hearth. His father sat there, enveloped in the glow of the fire, a letter in hand and a furrow of concern etched deeply into his features. The sight was enough to stir a sense of unease in Thomas, though he greeted his father with a practiced nonchalance, busying himself with the simple task of preparing a quick meal.
As he settled at the kitchen table with a ham sandwich and a cup of water, he became acutely aware of his father's gaze upon him, penetrating and filled with an unspoken gravity. His father finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a chilling note of formality.
"It is time you resumed your training," he declared, the words heavy with implication "we've been idle for long enough."
Thomas's reaction was a mixture of surprise and resignation, his disinterest in the subject palpable. Yet, the reminder of his father's condition - and the unavoidable imminent danger - gave him pause. His father's insistence on the necessity of being prepared, of fulfilling a duty that seemed as much a burden as it was a legacy, was not new to Thomas.
Yet, the reality of their situation, underscored by his father's recent injury, reminded Thomas that he was right. Despite his reluctance, Thomas acknowledged the weight of his father's words.
"I understand," he conceded, though the sentiment was more an acquiescence to the inevitable than a genuine embrace of the task ahead.
With a nod that seemed to finalize the matter, his father rose from the table, leaving Thomas alone with his thoughts and a meal that suddenly seemed unappealing. The conversation, brief as it was, had cast a shadow over the evening, the prospect of resuming his training—a facet of his life he had naively hoped to leave behind with their move to Avonlea—now an inescapable reality.
Rising from the table, his appetite gone, Thomas set about his chores with a mind troubled by thoughts of the weekend to come.
On Friday, during lunch break, Thomas found himself not in his usual preferred spot in the Willow Tree, but on the floor at the back of the classroom, his back against the wall - he did not want to ruin the pages of his book in the light flurry outside.
With his geography textbook in one hand and his lunch in the other, he attempted to multitask - eating while revising. As he was trying to memorise the major towns within Nova Scotia, he couldn't help but wonder about the uncharacteristic tardiness of Gilbert that morning, though the teacher had not punished him.
The classroom, usually filled with lunchtime chatter, carried a different energy today. Amidst the muffled conversations, Anne's voice pierced the air, tinged with frustration.
"This is so inconvenient," she declared, her annoyance unmistakable even from a distance.
Thomas's gaze lifted from the pages of his textbook, curiosity drawing his eyes to the far side of the room. There, nestled between the desks, was the familiar sight of the girls' fort, a makeshift structure of seats and blankets that had become a staple of their lunchtime gatherings. It was an odd ritual, but Thomas had gotten used to it.
The distraction reminded Thomas of the shift in behavior from the girls, a distance that had formed seemingly overnight, their interactions with him now marked by a cautious reserve. The reasons behind this change were still a mystery to him, one that he had yet to unravel. His contemplation was abruptly cut short by the ringing of the bell, its shrill tone signalling the end of lunch and the impending return to the day's lessons.
The geography lesson, typically a straightforward affair, took on an unexpected intensity as Mr. Phillips delved into questioning the students, a practice he seemed to particularly enjoy. After testing a few of the students on various regions of Canada with mixed success, he turned his attention to Gilbert.
"Which districts comprise the Prairies? Gilbert," Mr. Phillips asked.
Gilbert stood up to answer, "The districts of Athabasca, Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Assiniboia."
"Now that is a clever student," Mr. Phillips praised, acknowledging Gilbert's correct response as he took his seat.
The focus then shifted to Anne, the next in line for scrutiny.
"Which provinces comprise the Atlantic Maritimes?" Mr. Phillips inquired, his gaze fixed on her.
As Anne rose, Thomas noticed something others didn't seem to - an unusual tremor in her demeanor, her usually steady presence shaken by a visible nervousness. Her voice, laced with unease, barely carried across the room.
"'I'm sorry, what was the question?" she asked.
Mr. Phillips's response dripped with condescension. "Oh, could you not hear me? Was I not speaking loudly enough?" he mocked, amplifying Anne's discomfort.
"I'm sorry, I just..." Anne stammered, attempting to regain her composure, but Mr. Phillips cut her off sharply.
"The Atlantic Maritimes!" he shouted, his impatience clear. "Sometime today," he added, as Anne stood frozen, unable to respond.
Thomas's frustration with Mr. Phillips's behavior turned to outright anger. The teacher's disdainful treatment of Anne, his mockery, was intolerable.
When Mr. Phillips, dissatisfied with Anne's silence, turned the question to Thomas, he stood, his demeanor of calm defiance. His gaze, intense and unyielding, seemed to unsettle Mr. Phillips, if only for a moment.
"New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island," Thomas answered, his tone cold and imbued with a clear disdain for the teacher's methods.
Mr. Phillips watched him for a moment before replying.
"That would be correct. Take your seat. The speed of your improvement is remarkable, perhaps in time you will no longer be the worst student in my class," his voice laden with mockery and an undercurrent of animosity.
As Thomas retook his seat, the murmurs and snickers from some classmates felt distant, his concern for Anne overshadowing the petty dynamics of the classroom. Gilbert's worried glance did little to improve Thomas's mood. The rest of the lesson seemed a blur, Thomas finding a hard time to concentrate after the earlier occurrence.
As the day came to a close and everyone was putting on their coats, Thomas found himself before a curious scene unfolding. Gilbert, in his characteristic blend of humor and helpfulness, was sharing tips on "mnemonic devices" for memorization with Diana and Anne. The conversation, light-hearted at first, took a sharp turn with Anne's interjection.
"Diana, could you please tell Gilbert Blythe that I don't need his help?" Anne's voice, edged with annoyance, cut through the chatter of the coatroom.
Gilbert, ever the embodiment of ease, shot back with a playful retort. "Why don't you just tell me yourself? I'm right here."
"I suppose I just did," Anne snapped, her words laced with a cool disdain that left no room for misinterpretation.
The brief clash ended with Gilbert offering a congenial wish for a nice weekend before he exited. Compelled by curiosity, Thomas hastened after Gilbert, eager for insights into the odd exchange he'd just witnessed.
"What was all that about?" he asked once he'd caught up, his breath misting in the cold air.
Gilbert chuckled before responding.
"Ah, it's a long story. Started with a harmless joke about carrots, and she's been on my case ever since," he explained, his amusement not quite masking the undercurrent of regret in his voice.
As they reached the point where their paths diverged, Thomas found himself still puzzling over the nature of his own missteps with Anne and the other girls that might explain their odd behavior towards him.
Wishing Gilbert a pleasant weekend, Thomas wrapped his scarf tighter against his neck, the air growing colder with each passing day. He might have looked forward to the weekend, despite offering little rest, if not for the conversation with his father the day before. Now all he felt was dread.