Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

A/N I am so thankful for approaching one thousand views on this story! Thank you for all of those who have stuck with Anne throughout this journey, and who have fallen in love with her as much as I have. Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow if you enjoy!

Even with the small episode outside of the schoolhouse, if the day had continued as it started, it would have been a good day. But it didn't, and even though Anne was right about Josie not telling anyone about the scene on the beach, Anne was still almost in tears. The geometric shapes all blended together on the paper, and the basic equations may as well have been rocket science to her. Her fingers nervously tapped the desk, and she fidgeted, drew her eyebrows in, and clenched the pencil until her knuckles turned white, as if any of that could possibly help her.

"Anne? Anne, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Anne mumbled, not bothering to look up at her teacher's face. "Just thinking."

But Miss Schmidt would not be so distracted, and she squatted so she could look Anne right in the eye. "Anne, look at me."

Anne begrudgingly lifted her watery eyes, and for one brief second, the two held each other's gaze. There was something in Miss Schmidt's eyes, something that seemed tangible but had to be abstract, because isn't that was all things that existed in eyes were? Anne rested her hand against the side of her head, clenching her teeth to keep all the stupid questions out of her head. Isn't that what they were, anyway?

God, carrots, I swear I'm going to sew your lips together.

Miss Schmidt cleared her throat, and Anne once again averted her gaze, beginning to scribble down numbers on her paper in the vain hope that she would be left alone. "You know," Miss Schmidt said, her sweet, southern drawl slow as she patted Anne's hand, "Student services called down. They want to see you."

Anne groaned. She knew it was a lie, but it seemed the only way to get out from under the teacher's gaze, so she put away her books. "Okay." Her throat felt dry, her hands clammy, and she felt like she was going to throw up; she hated guidance counselors. She was nothing but a lost cause to them, or, if this place was different, she would be another project. She wasn't either one of those, but what she was exactly she couldn't tell you.

It was something that plagued her mind as she walked down the empty hallway, with spatters of talking on either side of her from their respective classrooms. The school seemed so lively today, which Anne appreciated to an extent. She herself felt a little more lively than a wet rag, so that was an improvement. Still, it seemed to mock her as she made her way to student services, and she cleared her throat as she folded her arms over her chest, trying to curl into herself as much as possible.

Student Services was nothing more than a hole in the wall in the school, a medium sized office tucked in between the gym and the art room. Anne remembered seeing the receptionist in passing, a brunette woman who's smile never quite reached her eyes. It could have been anything, but in Anne's mind it was because she was a queen, running from the ghost of her baby, murdered by enemy forces when they were pillaging the castle—

"What's your name, honey?" She asked, her voice a bit higher pitched than Anne appreciated. Even the tag, honey, seemed like nothing more than a formality, as if being friendly with kids was a way to get a paycheck.

"Anne Shirley," Anne said, keeping her head up even as she shoved her hands into her jean pockets. She was not going to feel small now, because if she felt small now, when would she ever grow? She was strong. She was big. She was a giant.