How could she have been so reckless?
Every few minutes, Marianne turns over in her bed in order to look at that one dreadful drawer, where that dreadful drawing is hidden. This time, she accidentally catches a look of herself in the mirror and a sigh escapes her lips.
She looks dreadful, too. With her hair completely disheveled, her face red and dark bags under her eyes she resembles some creature from Anne's imagination. It's a product of a sleepless night and a lot of crying done under the cover of her duvet.
And, in truth, it's a product of her own stupidity.
Marianne should never have even though about drawing Gilbert Blythe (no matter how good of a model he might be). It was foolish of her to do so, and careless, and just a very, very bad idea in general. What was she thinking, to keep all those drawing unguarded? Had she learnt nothing from that one time when the boy's father saw them?
God, she's definitely not right in the head.
And not only does she feel humiliation now, but guilt and anger, too.
Guilt - because she lied to Marilla this morning, saying that she wasn't feeling well enough to go to school, that the headache was so bad it made her feel nauseous. She just couldn't face anyone today, she feared (while being completely aware of how stupid it was) that anyone looking at her today would be able to tell what had happened.
Anger - because she quarrelled with Anne the previous evening. The moment she pushed the drawing into the drawer, she marched to Anne's room. Reasonably, she knew it wasn't the redhead girl's fault, but, with Anne's interference in Matthew's correspondence still fresh in her memory, there was a part of Marianne that suspected her of sending Gilbert his likeness on purpose. And so, when she asked whether Anne had borrowed some paper from her without asking first, her voice sounded harsh, an accusatory tone ringing in the air. The fact that the girl would deny acting deliberately only infuriated Marianne more, because it meant that she was the one being awful, shouting and throwing accusations (which, of course, only brought more guilt).
The only thing she can be glad about in this situation is the fact that she somehow managed to avoid telling Anne the truth of the reason behind her outburst. Marianne knows she will have to explain everything sooner or later (probably sooner, since she decided to apologize to Anne as soon as she comes back from school), but for now it's the sole consolation she has.
She didn't even have time to think about the contents of Gilbert's latter, too preoccupied with being unreasonable. Marianne tries to focus now, to remember his words without actually having to reach for the envelope; he's not coming back in the foreseeable future, isn't that what he wrote? That he's not ready to return to Avonlea just yet. Despite being so conflicted, he actually seemed to be glad to have this opportunity to travel the world. And he admitted that he would like to continue their correspondence...
Marianne knows she should be happy for him, but she cannot help feeling somehow disappointed.
Deep down, she wished for Gilbert Blythe to write that he is coming back.
🌼
Marianne meant to talk to Anne the moment the redhead girl returns from school, but she must have fallen asleep. Apparently, the exhaustion from all that worrying finally won, because now, as she opens her eyes, she's met with darkness, both outside and in her bedroom.
Rubbing her eyes with her fists, Marianne sets her feet on the floor. As consciousness comes back to her slowly, she hears a voice coming from behind her door.
"Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am!"
Even in her current state, she can recognise the distress in Anne's voice.
"I am the unhappiest girl in Prince Edward Island."
A pang of guilt hits her instantly, her first thought being that she must be the reason behind the girl's crying. She deserves to go to hell for hurting someone like Anne, of that much she is sure.
"Well, if I'd decided worthwhile to dye my hair, I'd have dyed it a decent colour at least."
What?
"But I didn't mean to dye it green! It applied the dye as the directions said. I used up a whole bottle, and..."
Marilla's words and Anne's response stop Marianne in her tracks, right in the doorway of the redhead girl's room. With wide eyes, she takes in both figures seated on the bed. What she sees first is Marilla's worried face, and then she notices Anne's hair.
Anne's green coloured hair.
The question "What happened?" slips out of her mouth before Marianne has the chance to remind herself to be sympathetic.
"It was like I'd been bewitched. When I saw myself with raven hair, I didn't want anything more than to look like myself again! I looked like a demon possessed. I tried and I tried to wash it off, but it wouldn't come out. I... I thought maybe laundry bluing would... would strip it off!"
"Well, that explains it."
"I can never, never live this down. People her pretty well forgotten my other mistakes, but they'll never forget this!"
And then Marianne finds herself kneeling in front of a chair, Anne's hand in hers while sounds of scissors in use echo I'm the room. Her goal concerning the apology is all forgotten now that she has the younger girl's tears to worry about. Even if her previous anger with Anne had been right, Marianne's heart would still break upon hearing her worry about people thinking her not respectable and Josie Pye teasing her.
(Although she must admit, she would probably understand why one could find the situation a little funny, seeing as Anne has been very dramatic about the whole thing. It actually reminds her of the time when the redhead girl was convinced she was dying the first time she had gotten her monthly cycle.)
Yet Marianne knows she cannot allow herself even a small smile. It would probably be best to just let Anne live it through the way she sees fit, considering the fact she wouldn't listen to any reasonable consolation.
Maybe it's because Marianne know that or because she still feels guilty for her behaviour towards the younger girl last evening. But the moment both her and Marilla leave Anne asleep in her bed and close the door behind them, Marianne grabs her aunt's hand, the scissors still held in her fingers.
"Actually, Marilla, I have something to ask of you."
🌼
It's far to early in the morning for Marianne to truly realise the weight of her decision. She doesn't really pay much attention to her reflection in the mirror as she dresses herself, and Anne is far to lost in her own despair to notice anything until they reach school and Marianne takes off her bonnet.
"I'm a monstrosity, Diana. In fact, you bes forget me now and- What happened to your hair?"
Marianne's hand instinctively goes up to her forehead, brushing a few strands of loose hair out of her eyes. Her hair is only little longer than Anne's, more evenly cut, but she still feels conscious of the fact that it is no longer going down past her shoulders. And it's beginning to dawn on her now what she's done, especially considering the fact that they are about to face the other pupils.
Marianne may not care much about Josie Pye's or Billy Andrews' opinion, but it doesn't make her fear of hearing it any smaller.
"I'm not foolish enough to think that it'll fix the situation," she says now, trying to seem much more confident than she truly feels. Her hair is already gone, she can as well not waste the sacrifice and make Anne believe it doesn't bother her that much. "But I thought you may feel less terrible if you are not alone. So, I asked Marilla to cut it."
"You seem so calm, but you had such beautiful hair. My was hideous even before I dyed in that awful green, but yours is such a waste..."
Marianne smiles. "It will grow back in no time, you'll see. And we can all agree now that red is the perfect colour fo you, I think."
Anne doesn't seem convinced (and, truth to be told, Marianne isn't either). But than she takes her own hat off. The look on her face, so full of fear of being cast away by Diana, who's yet to see her short hair, is heartbreaking. When the Barry girl unties one of her own ribbons to give it to Anne, repeating the same words Marianne has just said, the oldest of the three feels the sudden urge to hug her.
"Not nearly soon enough."
The next thing she knows, Anne's hand slips into her own as they both make their way into the classroom. Squeezing her fingers, Marianne tries her best to ignore all the faces turning to look at them, but it doesn't really work that well. Apparently, it's either seeing others react with disbelief or imagining it, and she doesn't know which of these options is actually worse.
And then it doesn't really matter anymore which option is worse. None of it matters, because at the front of the classroom boys make space for someone to come through.
And it's just her luck that this someone is Gilbert Blythe.