In Avonlea, the sun shone high and golden in the pale spring sky, casting a soft glow over the rolling hills and quiet country lanes. The air was sweet with the promise of the season—buds on the maples, blossoms trembling on the wild apple trees, and the faintest scent of lilacs drifting from the gardens. Avonlea was not a place where secrets stayed hidden for long; it was a small, close-knit town where news traveled faster than the wind that carried it, and where every soul—whether farmer, teacher, or child—seemed to know the doings of their neighbors before those neighbors even knew them themselves.

At the little whitewashed schoolhouse, a lively murmur buzzed among the girls gathered before lessons began. Excitement had been brewing since early morning, sparked by none other than Josie Pye, who swept in with the air of one holding the juiciest morsel of gossip in all Prince Edward Island. She wasted no time in pulling Tillie, Jane, Ruby, Diana, and Anne Shirley Cuthbert into a tight circle, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“You’ll never believe what I saw yesterday,” Josie began, her voice pitched just loud enough to capture attention, though she pretended a kind of careless nonchalance. “Gilbert Blythe walked the new girl home after school. All the way to her house!”

The group gasped in unison, Ruby Gillis clasping her hands to her chest as if struck by Cupid himself. Diana Barry exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Anne, who flushed crimson at the mere mention of Gilbert’s name.

“As if that weren’t enough,” Josie continued, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, “this morning I passed by her great big mansion—you know, the one at the edge of town, with the tall iron gates—and there was Gilbert, waiting for her at the front! Like a proper gentleman, ready to walk her to school.”

The words hung in the air like a spark ready to catch. For Gilbert Blythe was not simply a boy; he was, to nearly every girl in Avonlea, the very image of charm and promise. His mischievous smile, quick wit, and dark curls had made him the subject of countless whispered daydreams. To hear that he had attached himself to someone new, and not just anyone but the daughter of a fine English lord newly arrived from London, was a revelation of the grandest—and most alarming—kind.

“She’s dreadfully pretty,” Tillie murmured, half in admiration, half in envy. “And so refined,” Jane added. “I heard her father sent for books all the way from Europe for her studies.” “Oh, books!” Ruby sighed, though her mind was more likely full of romantic imaginings than arithmetic.

Anne, however, said nothing at first. She stared out the window where the sunlight spilled across the green fields, her thoughts a confused whirl. She told herself she ought not to care whether Gilbert walked the new girl to school or not—but her heart insisted otherwise.

The chatter continued until, suddenly, Ruby gave a little squeal. “Look! There they are!”

All heads turned toward the path that wound its way to the schoolyard. And indeed, there was Gilbert Blythe, walking alongside the new girl. She was dressed neatly, her light hair tied back with a ribbon that fluttered in the breeze, and though she carried herself with the polished air of someone raised in privilege, she was smiling shyly at something Gilbert had just said. He laughed in return, the sound carrying across the yard, light and careless.

The girls fell silent for a heartbeat, each watching with her own mixture of curiosity, admiration, and envy. It was as though a small stone had been tossed into the still pond of their everyday lives, sending ripples across friendships, affections, and unspoken dreams.

the girls watch them approach, their chatter suddenly hushed. Anne steals a glimpse of Gilbert and the blonde girl, feeling a flutter of jealousy she doesn't quite understand. Meanwhile, Gilbert seems oblivious to the whispers and stares around him. He simply smiles at the blonde girl and holds open the door to the schoolhouse

"After you."