Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Twenty-Four

For most, they would never set foot in any place more cruel that the schoolyard. And although this may not have necessarily rung true for Anne, that didn't keep her from feeling nauseas. She doubted Diana would have told anyone, not even Charlie, and there was no one else who could say for sure where she had gone, or so she assumed. There were the town gossips, like the insufferable Rachel Lynde. Maybe they all knew.

The day was cloudy, the sky was a mix between blue and a dull grey, and the weather had begun to resemble the chill of fall more than the airy summer. Anne was bundled up in a Cape Cod sweatshirt and jeans. The sweatshirt was big enough so Anne felt like she could draw herself inside of it, and feeling a little bit more hidden did do a little bit to keep her from vomiting in Matthew's truck.

Matthew felt almost as anxious as Anne herself, especially as he looked over at her occasionally, staring out the window. She was watching the clouds float by, trying to distract herself by thinking up stories about them or making pictures out of them. One cloud looked like one of the sails often seen at the docks, and she imagined that some fairy was boarding a sail boat to find adventure in the sky. Did fairies separate the sky like people did the ocean? Maybe there was a Polar Sky—no, a Polaris Sky—and maybe there was a Sky of Arid Stars. She quite liked that, even if etymologically it didn't make any sense.

Sometime among her dreams Matthew pulled up to the school, and Anne could feel her stomach drop. "We're here," Matthew said uneasily.

"Yeah," Anne said, clearing her throat. Still, she couldn't get herself to get out of the car, but could only clutch her bag until her knuckles turned white.

Matthew didn't bother telling her it would be alright, because he remembered quite clearly her response to that the first day he had dropped her off. But he didn't what to say if it wasn't that, so for a moment he could only look at her wistfully. "I'll be praying for you."

She looked at him, slightly startled by the statement. "Oh." She looked down, and so did he. But somehow, she got the strength to open the door, and she shouldered her backpack. "Thank you." He smiled at her, and she smiled at him. It wasn't exactly a full, genuine smile, but it wasn't forced either, and that certainly meant something.

She stepped down from the truck, waving goodbye. She felt a sudden urge to comfort him, so she said, "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Matthew said, nodding his head. "I know you will."

Anne nodded her head, looking at him for a long moment, dragging her right foot against the concrete.

And then, after looking down, Matthew smiled at her again. "I love you."

I love you. They were just three words, but they warmed her up from her toes to her scalp, where her red hair spilled down in waves. But not even that was the right word to use—Anne felt like she was on fire, a mixture of a wildfire and a home fire that families that gathered around to warm themselves by and revel in each other's company. She felt complete.

All of her troubles were forgotten as she looked at him in awe, immediately stilling. For a moment, Matthew blushed, wondering if he had something wrong. But then, slowly, yet still filled with passion, Anne said, "I love you too." They weren't the words she wanted to use to describe how she felt about Matthew—she wanted to say that he made sunrises beautiful, and sometimes, he made stars become amazing light shows and not an alarm that beckoned in her worst nightmares.