The next morning, a cold breeze woke Thomas. He stuck his nose over the blanket and peered at his open bedroom window. Despite the weather still being agreeable, autumn was in full effect and the temperature was steadily dropping.
Thomas rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of his bed, shambling across the room and shutting the window. He looked outside - the trees, once a uniform shade of green, now burst with the fiery colors of autumn - reds, oranges, and yellows that seemed to set the landscape ablaze under the soft morning sun.
It was Friday, yet it was his first day of school. Nowadays there were few things that bothered Thomas, but he couldn't help feeling a sense of nervousness mixed with dread.
In the past, Thomas had been attending various schools very irregularly due to his difficult circumstances, mainly relying on homeschooling and studying on his own. Although he very much enjoyed reading and learning, the better part of the last year had afforded him little luxury to do so.
Nevertheless, he walked across the room and began getting dressed. He put on a simple outfit - some black trousers along with a white shirt. Thomas glanced at some of the vests in his closet, but decided against wearing one, instead he grabbed a simple red cravat and tied it around his neck - an accessory he often wore.
He grabbed his shoulder bag which he had already filled the day before and headed downstairs. His father was already sat by the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading what appeared to be a letter.
"Good morning," Thomas greeted, getting himself a cup of water and taking a seat across from his father.
"Morning," his father didn't meet his gaze, instead keeping his nose buried in the paper "Pack your lunch?"
Thomas flinched, he had completely forgotten.
"Um.. no I, uh, forgot" he stammered a little, which was very uncharacteristic for him.
He saw his father grin ever so slightly, still preoccupied with the letter.
"Well good thing I took the liberty of packing some for you then" he finally put the letter down and looked at his son "don't get used to it - there's some sandwiches"
"Are they shrimp paste?" Thomas hoped not, he hated shrimp.
"Guess you'll find out," his father replied, standing up from the table.
Thomas looked at the far side of the table, there was a roughly wrapped bundle of the mystery sandwiches. He retrieved it and deposited it deep in his bag before heading outside and towards the creek.
He knelt down and splashed a handful of water on his face, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Glancing at his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair.
"No breakfast?" he heard his fathers voice from the entryway and glanced behind him.
"No.. not hungry" Thomas hollered back.
"Well then you best get going unless you want to be late" his father turned and went back inside.
Thomas reached into his pocket, retrieving a simple pocket watch and checking the time. His father was right - the walk to the school would take some time and wouldn't want to be tardy on his first day.
And so he set off at a brisk pace, along the hardly visible path by the creek, following his fathers earlier instructions on how to get to the Avonlea school. With each step, leaves would crunch under his feet, along with the soft gurgle of the creek, and the distant calls of migrating birds would make an odd symphony.
Rays of the morning sunlight were creeping through the gaps in the trees and the air was fresh and cool, filled with the distinct scent of damp earth.
He arrived at his destination quicker than he anticipated. The structure before him was a long, white building with a small bell tower. As he got closer the previously faint sound of voices got louder. Thomas steeled his mind and before he knew it he stood before the steps leading up to the front door which was wide open. There were a handful of kids on the side of the building but they hadn't seemed to notice him yet.
He closed his eyes for a brief second, taking a deep breath and refocusing his senses before heading up the steps and inside the school.
Right past the front door was a small coat room, the hooks on the walls littered with hats and jackets. After that was the main classroom, the large room was divided in two by a passageway in the middle with seats on either side. Dead centre of the room was a wood stove, and the front of the classroom was decorated by one large and another slightly smaller chalkboard along with the teachers desk.
It wasn't long before a few of the children took notice of Thomas lingering in the doorway, poking each other and shifting their attention his way. Thomas knew there was no avoiding what was coming, so he took several steps into the classroom.
At this point the room fell silent, everyone was now aware of Thomas's presence.
He stood tall and confident, scanning across the faces before him. A group of girls were huddled together on the left side of the room, exchanging whispers and hushed giggles between them and glancing at him every so often. On the right side, a few boys were sizing Thomas up. Soon thereafter, he was approached by two of them. The shorter one with dark hair spoke first.
"Hi there, you must be new. I'm Moody," he said, extending a hand with genuine warmth "Moody Spurgeon".
Beside him, the taller boy with blonde hair, similar to his own, stepped forward.
"And I'm Cole. Welcome to Avonlea.''
"Thomas Rockport, pleased to meet you," Thomas shook their hands, doing his best to shoot each of them a friendly smile.
Before Thomas could say more, a voice called out from the back of the room, "Making friends already, are we?" Another boy had entered the room, his tone teasing but not unkind, he ambled over to join the group. His approach was more guarded but his smile was friendly enough.
"Charlie Sloane," he shook Thomas' hand "my brother told me about you.".
"And you've already met Moody, so you're off to a good start," Charlie added with a grin, eyeing Moody with a playful rivalry that was well known among their classmates.
Thomas felt some sense of relief. "I was worried about starting school in the middle of the year, but everyone seems really welcoming," he thought to himself.
Moody, sensing Thomas's ease, decided to take it a step further.
"We should show you around," he suggested, gesturing to the classroom and beyond. "there's plenty to see, and you'll want to know where everything is before the lessons begin".
Thomas nodded and followed the boys outside. After a brief tour of the school grounds, the boys found themselves by the creek on the side of the school, the same one Thomas had followed to get here.
As Thomas found himself gradually relaxing due to the friendly attitude from Moody, Cole, and Charlie, the dynamic shifted noticeably with the arrival of another boy.
"I heard there's a new kid," the boy strolled up with the confidence of someone who knew the terrain all too well, his tone carrying an edge as he sized Thomas up.
There was a challenge in his eyes, a readiness to establish the pecking order that had long governed the dynamics among the boys.
"Billy Andrews," he introduced himself with a posture meant to assert dominance.
The tension in the air was palpable, and for a brief moment, Thomas wondered if he had spoken too soon about feeling welcome.
"Thomas," he replied simply, his voice calm and steady.
"Thomas, is it? Well, just so you know, we have our ways around here. Don't expect to just waltz in and have it easy," Billy's words were clearly meant to intimidate the newcomer.
Thomas, however, stood his ground. Meeting Billy's gaze, there was a quiet confidence in his demeanor, an unspoken assurance that he was no stranger to challenges. Perhaps it was the steadiness in Thomas's eyes, or maybe an intangible aura of mystery that surrounded him, but the effect on Billy was immediate and unexpected.
For a moment, Billy seemed to reassess the situation. The confidence with which he had approached began to waver under Thomas's unbroken composure. The yard was silent, all eyes on the duo.
Billy's stance softened, the bluster draining away as he seemed to search for his next words. "Well, just... make sure you keep up," he finally muttered, the confrontational edge gone from his voice. It was a retreat, wrapped in the guise of advice.
Thomas nodded, the briefest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I intend to," he responded, his voice even. There was no triumph in his tone, just a simple statement of fact.
And just like that the moment had passed, the tension in the air was gone. Billy left for the classroom along with Charlie, leaving just Thomas, Moody and Cole by the creek. As the dust settled from the brief confrontation with, Thomas found himself the centre of a different kind of attention. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a group of girls whispering among themselves, casting furtive glances in his direction. Their curiosity piqued by the new boy's calm demeanor, they gathered their courage to approach first.
Diana Barry, ever the diplomat, led the initiative. With a grace that spoke of her upbringing, she offered Thomas a smile as warm as the morning sun.
"Hello, I'm Diana Barry," she said, extending her hand in friendship. "It's not often we have new students join us mid-year."
"Thomas Rockport," he replied, accepting her hand "pleasure.".
Next to Diana stood Ruby Gillis, whose eyes sparkled with an unmistakable interest. "And I'm Ruby," she chimed in, her voice dreamy. It seemed as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words, instead she just stared at Thomas.
Thomas shot her a quick smile and a hi, before the next girl approached.
"Jane Andrews," she introduced herself "good job handling my stupid brother".
"Thank you?" Thomas replied, a hint of amusement in his voice at her assessment.
The final girl, who had been hanging back slightly, stepped forward with a hint of reluctance that quickly switched to fascination as her eyes met Thomas'.
"Josie Pye," she introduced herself, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue. "You're quite the mystery, Thomas Rockport".
Thomas wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. The immediate warmth and curiosity of the girls was a stark contrast to the boys' more cautious acceptance. He couldn't help but notice that Ruby and Josie seemed enchanted by him - Ruby with her constant beaming smile and Josie, despite her initial reserve, unable to stop making eye contact with Thomas. It was clear that his unexpected arrival, coupled with the poise he demonstrated, had stirred something more than just curiosity among some of his classmates.
Luckily, Thomas was saved by the bell signaling the imminent beginning of the day's lessons. The girls hurried off ahead of Thomas back into the classroom, while Thomas took a moment to recompose himself in the front coat room after the intense dosage of interactions. Despite his natural charm, Thomas didn't feel too comfortable in social situations, he preferred a more solitary lifestyle.
As the bell's echo faded, the classroom filled with the shuffling of feet and the muted chatter of students finding their seats. Thomas, scanning the room for a place to settle, noticed a single empty table in the middle row. He made his way over and took a seat, placing his books neatly in front of him. Moments later, he was approached by another unfamiliar face.
"Seems I'm a bit late today," the boy remarked, surprised to see a newcomer in his usual seat, before he took the other empty seat next to Thomas. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Gilbert Blythe."
"Thomas," he replied, offering a hand. "Recently moved to Avonlea."
"Welcome to the fray," Gilbert said with a smile, shaking Thomas's hand "Moved from where?"
Before Thomas could come up with an answer, Mr. Phillips, the teacher, called the class to order. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary on Thomas, a hint of disapproval in his eyes for the disruption of the usual seating arrangement.
"Class, it appears we have a new student among us," Mr. Phillips began, his voice carrying a tone that was less than entirely welcoming "let's hope Mr. Rockport can keep up with our curriculum. We wouldn't want him falling behind on his very first day, now would we?"
A few students snickered at Mr. Phillips' remark, but Gilbert offered Thomas a reassuring glance, a silent message of solidarity in the face of the teacher's unwelcome attention.
As Mr. Phillips launched into the day's lesson, Thomas found himself unable to focus, which was unusual for him. He stared blankly at the equation on his slate in front of him, none of the numbers making any sense.
The math lesson was well underway when the classroom door swung open with an urgency that immediately drew all eyes away from the blackboard. A girl, two braids of red hair and an expression of mortified apology, stood at the threshold, breathless from her rush.
"Miss Anne Shirley, how kind of you to join us," Mr. Phillips began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "given your penchant for tardiness, perhaps standing at the front of the class for the remainder of the day will help you remember the importance of punctuality."
Without a word, Anne moved to the designated spot, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Something about her struck a chord within him, a realisation dawning that he had seen her before at the train station on his first day in Avonlea.
As Thomas watched Anne take her place at the front of the classroom, he couldn't help but be drawn to the details of her appearance that made her stand out so vividly against the rest of the class. Her hair, although worn in two simple braids, was fiery red. Her eyes, a striking blue, held a depth that Thomas found himself inexplicably drawn to, as if she could see more than others did.
Anne's face, alight with a blend of embarrassment and resolve due to her tardiness, was adorned with a constellation of freckles that Thomas found absolutely enchanting.
Her expression, even in the face of Mr. Phillips' reprimand was resolute, yet there was a softness there, a kindness that suggested an innate strength of character.
Thomas felt a rush of new and unfamiliar feelings arise deep within him.
As the lesson droned on, Thomas found it increasingly difficult to anchor his thoughts solely on mathematics. His gaze wandered, almost of its own accord, to Anne, standing with a quiet dignity at the front of the classroom. Her presence was like a beacon, drawing him in despite his efforts to concentrate. Anne had noticed him too, her eyes displaying a hint of curiosity about the newcomer. Every so often, their eyes met, exchanging glances.
Their silent communication did not go unnoticed. Mr. Phillips, ever vigilant for distractions, caught Thomas's gaze lingering once too often.
"Mr. Thomas Rockport, since you seem so entranced by anything but my lesson, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate the solution to this equation," he said, pointing to a complex problem on the board.
The classroom held its breath as Thomas stood and approached the blackboard, a wave of anxiety washed over him. Thomas felt the weight of the classroom's eyes upon him. He tried to focus, to marshal his thoughts and prove himself capable. But his mind was foggy, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. In a moment of desperation, he glanced to the side, where Anne was just a few steps away. Their eyes met briefly yet again, and in that fleeting connection, something shifted. It was as if her resilience, her unspoken encouragement, lent him strength.
With a deep breath, Thomas turned back to the equation, the numbers and symbols slowly aligning in his mind. The classroom was silent, the anticipation palpable. Methodically, he began to solve the equation, his initial hesitation giving way to a growing confidence. As he wrote down the final step, a moment of suspense hung in the air before Mr. Phillips, with a cursory glance, confirmed the solution was correct.
A spontaneous burst of applause and cheers broke out among some of the students, a rare break in the usual monotony of the math class. Mr. Phillips, quick to restore order, silenced the class with a stern look, but the moment of rebellion, of shared triumph, lingered.
As Thomas made his way back to his seat, Gilbert gave him an approving pat on the back, a silent acknowledgment of his success. And there, from the front of the room, Anne shot him a quick smile, before her eyes returned to the floor. It was a subtle exchange, but it spoke volumes to Thomas.
As the final bell rang, signifying the end of the day's lessons, the classroom quickly emptied, leaving behind a trail of echoed laughter and chatter. Anne still stood at the front, a silent testament to the day's earlier events, while Thomas lingered by his desk, having been singled out by Mr. Phillips for a 'brief chat.'
Thomas approached Mr. Phillips' desk, his steps hesitant yet resolved. Before he could utter a word, Anne's voice, clear and vibrant, filled the space. "Mr. Phillips, may I ask when-"
Her inquiry was abruptly severed, cut short by Mr. Phillips' dismissive hand. "Miss Shirley, you will speak when spoken to," he chided sharply, his tone brooking no argument. It was the first time Thomas had heard Anne speak, her voice imbued with a strength and clarity that belied her earlier silence. Despite the interruption, her words lingered in the air, a reminder of her presence and resolve.
Turning his attention to Thomas, Mr. Phillips inquired with a scrutinizing gaze about his educational background, his questions probing and direct. The conversation shifted quickly to a reprimand for the distraction Thomas had caused during the lesson, a warning underscored with a sternness that left little room for retort.
"Such disruptions are not tolerated here, Mr. Rockport. I trust this will be the last time."
With a curt nod, Thomas was dismissed, his earlier triumph at the blackboard overshadowed by the weight of Mr. Phillips' words. As he turned to leave, his gaze met Anne's, a silent exchange of solidarity in the face of a common adversary. Her expression, a mix of resilience and disappointment, spoke volumes. Thomas offered an apologetic look, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared ordeal.
Anne, it seemed, was due for further reprimand from Mr. Phillips', a continuation of the day's punitive measures. The unfairness of it sat heavily with Thomas as he exited the classroom, the echo of Mr. Phillips' stern voice marking the end of his first day in school.
Outside, the light was fading and sounds of his distant departing classmates could be heard. As Thomas stepped into the freedom of the late afternoon, his thoughts lingered on Anne.