Today is part one of two where we are talking to Stormi Lewis about her novels. Over the next 2 weeks you will hear about writing since she could put sentences together, getting in trouble in school for writing longer stories, life being bipolar and using that to fuel helping others, pulling out old stories you’ve written to write your novels, learning how to market your books in a way that works for you, unique ways to create your characters, and her advice to do things your way so you enjoy the process more.

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Stormi Lewis, a resident of Kansas City, MO, is a multifaceted individual who has led an extraordinary life. She has served as a cocktail server/bartender, professional ballerina/tapper/jazz and contemporary dancer, American Sign Language interpreter, business manager/marketer, and Lincoln concierge, amongst other roles. Her diverse experiences have led to the accumulation of fascinating stories, resulting in her becoming a multi-published author in the nonfiction bibliography genre. However, a story that she created during her middle school years still demanded to be told, and thus, the Sophie Lee Saga was born. If you wish to be informed about the release of Stormi's next book, please visit www.chasingstormi.rocks to subscribe to notifications.

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Welcome to Freya's.

Fairy tales.

We believe fairy tales are both stories we enjoyed as children and something that we can achieve ourselves.

Each week we will talk to authors about their favorite fairy tales when they were kids and their adventure to holding their very own fairy tale in their hands.

At the end of each episode, we will finish off with a fairy tale or short story read as close to the original authors version as possible.

I am your host.

Freya victoria I'm an audiobook narrator that loves reading fairy tales, novels and bringing stories to life through narration.

I'm also fascinated by talking to authors and learning about their why and how for creating their stories.

We have included all of the links for today's author and our show in the show notes.

Be sure to check out our website and sign up for our newsletter for the latest on the podcast.

Today is part one of two where we are talking to Stormy Lewis about her novels.

Over the next two weeks, you will hear about writing since she could put sentences together, getting in trouble in school for writing longer stories, life, being bipolar and using that to fuel helping others, pulling out old stories you've written to write your novels, learning how to market your books in a way that works for you.

Unique ways to create your characters and her advice to do things your way so you enjoy the process more.

Birth of the Legend The disappearance of a college student marks the beginning of a new game, one that Algos had carefully orchestrated before his departure.

Little did Claudia Hayes know that when she woke up, her life would take a twisted turn.

Instead of studying psychopathic serial killers, someone enhanced her to become one.

The leading lady in a sick game of chaos.

Clarice's father gave her everything she ever wanted in death, or so she thought.

An unknown legend is awakening, and the cost of its emergence may prove too high for Clarice to bear.

Now a new player has arrived to take away everything Clarice ever wanted.

She must decide whether to save her niece from being consumed by evil or become second in command to her father's greatest creation.

Once again, the prophecy unfolds as a raven awakens and an intruder joins the fray in the dream realm.

Sophie's losing control of her gifts.

Rebecca is missing, and she's not the only one.

Corbin must save the woman he's falling in love with before she falls victim to Claudia's plan of destruction.

People are getting taken out in shocking and mysterious ways, and their only connection is being a part of book talk.

However, a secret society known only as the guild knows the actual truth.

The legend they vowed to protect has come to life.

But as the Guild's corruption threatens to consume the realms with pure evil, as Claudia's plan develops, the only hope is for the few members left to survive.

The ultimate battle?

Will they find the raven in time to save the realms?

Or will the legend they were sworn to protect destroy them?

The legend is now in motion, and the only question is who will survive?

So the podcast is Freya's Fairy Tales, and that is fairy tales in two ways.

Fairy tales are something we either read or watched or listened to as children.

And it's also the journey for you to spend weeks, months, or years working on your book to get to hold that in your hands as a fairy tale for you.

So my first question I like to start off with is what was your favorite fairy tale or short story when you were a kid and did your favorite change as you got?

So growing up.

I was Orphan Annie red hair.

And when Anna Green Gables it was about the time that the TV show was being made.

And so I got the books, and I just loved that she punched the kid in the face for making fun of her red hair.

And I was like, you are a soulmate for me.

Now, this would be the movies, right?

Which was a TV movie.

Yeah, there was a TV adaptation.

And I can't think of who played Annie.

She was amazing.

But, yeah, Anna Green Gables.

When she punched the other kid in the face, I was like, yes.

I was so tired of being bullied.

But Nana also another series that was very dear to my heart because of Nana.

So Nana was working in a grocery store, and I guess they tried to do, like, a Book of the month where they would knock down the price and put it in the front of the store.

And so she spent what, little I mean, she really didn't have extra money because she raised four boys as a single mom.

So it was always like, a struggle to kind of put things together.

But my sister and I were already born, and so she would spend the extra money she had to buy the Book of the month.

And so I actually have the whole Little House on the Prairie because that was her favorite story.

Okay.

So those two were kind of staples growing up because I would spend the night with Nana, and she would read to me, and then she would fall asleep while she was reading.

And this was like her favorite story to tell was that I would wake her up giggling, going, hey, I'm the one that's supposed to fall asleep.

So my love of books came very early.

Now, to ask me what my favorite is is, like, asking me my favorite song or movies or ice cream.

You really can't just pick one.

Okay, favorite genre, then?

Favorite genre.

I never really read rom coms until I got older, and so they're really good about when I'm having a bad day or you just need to laugh because being bipolar, sometimes I have to read the opposite of what I'm feeling to kind of pull me out of it.

So rom coms are usually a go to because there's always an HEA happy ending.

I kind of like those.

I'm kind of the same.

I'll read these big, elaborate fantasy books or darker books or whatever.

And I need the granted, it may still be a darker thing, but I need that shorter romance book to break up the usually fantasies are really long.

Yeah.

I call it palate cleansing.

You know how you have to cleanse your palate before you taste test something and they give you coffee beans?

Yeah.

So rom coms are kind of my palate cleansing because I stab a lot of people.

And so it's just kind of a nice way to balance that out.

I had to palate cleanse between narrating for the first time.

I read your second book, followed up by the second book in another series.

And both of them were so intense that I was like, my brain just couldn't do I'm like, I can't, because that's a lot of what I narrate is fantasy and romance and these big stories with these big characters and sometimes you get to the end of them and you're like, yeah, that book was okay.

But then other times you're just like, oh, my God, what am I supposed to do now?

So at what age did you start writing?

So I wrote as soon as I could put sentences together.

Basically, I used to get in trouble at school because they would say, we asked you to write a short story, not a novel.

I already was getting in trouble in school and by the time I got to high school, I was getting a lot of my teachers giving me a hard time because I was writing more advanced for what other kids were writing in my age group.

And so I started getting a lot of you didn't write this.

This is plagiarism and stuff.

And it just really discouraged me.

So I actually didn't pick up writing again outside of college papers until 2017 when I wrote my first nonfiction book.

And, well, 2015, I was doing blog posts.

Okay.

Because I was trying desperately.

I had developed because being bipolar, I got made fun of a lot and kids really went out of their way because they thought it was hilarious that they would push trigger buttons and I would explode.

And so I was always crying and just really upset and stuff.

But in the process, I developed not just a people pleasing habit, but an addiction.

Because I didn't know I was bipolar until about 22, so I just knew there was something weird.

Yeah.

And so I thought that if I went the extreme on the other way, people would forgive me.

When you did myself.

Never worked out, but it didn't stop me from developing.

It was almost an addiction at that point and it was really getting me into abusive relationships and stuff like that.

So I knew that if I didn't break the cycle that it was like I wasn't going to survive this.

So I started getting on groupon and just doing random stuff.

I did like archery because it was like the best way to test stuff out for like a day.

Right, and you get a discount too, so it's pretty cheap most of the time.

Yeah.

And then I would just to hold myself accountable, I was writing a blog, which is how Chasing Stormy started.

And then somehow I went to yoga class and the instructor was like, I love this idea, we're going to Belize, come join us.

And at first my automatic response was, yeah, I can't do that.

And I thought, no, this know, stepping outside of my comfort zone, that's what this is all about.

So for the first time, I didn't plan anything.

I got on a plane and I met 15 strangers in a country I knew nothing about and found out it was a couple's trip.

And I was the only single person, but she had told everybody about the blog and people were coming up to me that I didn't know, saying, oh my gosh, when I read this, I feel like you're telling my story, only you're actually doing this stuff.

And so then I was like, okay, I think I have something bigger than I realized I had.

And by the end of the trip, I had never really shared my experience with my abusive marriage and being a domestic violence survivor because I never really thought of myself as a victim.

But I was like, I have a story and it might help other people.

And so when I got home, I talked to a couple of friends, and I didn't know what I was doing, but I threw a book together and I put it out there, and now I'm taking it down so I can kind of clean it up and rewrite it, because now I have a better idea of what it's supposed to be like.

But yeah, by the time I left that trip and in case you're wondering, termites, if you don't think about it, it's like walking around the jungle with a breath mat.

Because they were like, every time I turned around they were like, you got to do this for the blog.

And I was like, do I really need to eat a bug?

Do I really?

So I ended up doing a lot of things.

Even I almost drowned when I was little.

And so I don't like water on my face.

But they wanted to go snorkeling and I was like, oh, there's no way.

But I was like, I'm fine, I'm fine.

And the whole time tears are running down my cheeks and they're like, are you okay?

And I'm like, no.

But our tour guide was super nice and super cute, so that helped.

But he took me aside and he was like, we will do this.

And I feel like I got a better tour because everybody else was like, I didn't see anything.

And he was like diving down and bringing stuff up and going, hey.

But I also watched jaws and in the deep blue in all of those movies where people got left in the middle of the ocean really helping either.

But I did go snorkeling.

I made it all the way around and it was very liberating.

So that was when I wrote my first book was when I came back from that trip and I wrote a second nonfiction because a lot of people that kind of helped raise me were either passing because of cancer and my studio dance studio owner was getting Alzheimer's and so was nana and stuff.

So I just wrote a little thank you card book for them and then I didn't write anything for a while and I just didn't feel like I was doing anything because I was finishing getting my bachelor's and all of that.

And COVID came and I had just gotten a job with travel insurance, customer service, and I got hired in February and by March they had sent us home.

And so I was suddenly getting screamed at in my living room 24/7 because I couldn't really get away from it because I have a very small apartment and it's only a one bedroom.

So I had to set it up in the living room because it's like two giant monitors and all this other stuff and I just never had that separation.

And so my anxiety was going up from the lockdown and being yelled at.

I just feed off of other people's emotions.

It really started not doing well.

And my friend was like, you've got to write again.

And I said, well, I haven't really done anything between now and then to be like a really excited about and my mom had just mentioned because they don't like when I write and share my stories of real life.

So she was like, you could be like a Nora roberts or and so we went back and forth and I said, well, I did start this story because I actually wrote Sophie in middle school, okay?

And kind of started one of the.

Short stories that got too long, one.

Of the short stories that got too long and it was kind of gotten rid of and said, writers never make any money.

You need to find a better path.

And I told my friend about it and she was like, oh my god, I would so read that.

So I wrote a couple of chapters because I didn't have it anymore, so I had to start from scratch.

And our buddy Mario actually lived in the apartment complex with me and he came down and he was like, this would be a great trilogy.

And I'm like, dude, two chapters.

Not even a book what are you talking about?

A trilogy?

But it was a challenge that my inner Sophie was like, yeah.

And then I got to the third book and I was in the shower because that's when all of our best thinking comes, is in the shower.

And I was washing my hair and went, Dang it, I'm not done.

So I had to republish as a saga.

And that is how we went from three to now three to now five.

We'll not count the part of the manuscript that was lost because you were a kid.

How long did it take you to write the key from starting to finishing that book?

How long did that take you?

So I was writing on my breaks and I was writing when I wasn't working because it was great having balance.

So it was a month to write and a month to edit.

And I had other people edit it, the first one.

And then I just had a lot of fun marketing because I like being a nerd and coming up with different ways to market.

I mean, all your TikToks, you've got like a power drill or a shovel.

Yeah, something equally as ominous.

And then I went to Hobby Lobby and they had Fred in a bag.

So now I have Fred, my little skeleton.

Yeah.

And now I can't walk through a hardware section and not go, can I get banned from using that in a video?

Depends on the context there's that it does.

Well, they don't like any knives you can't show.

You kind of have to be a little creative.

Which, again, I love coming up with random stuff.

So it's funny how much my life has changed because I used to listen to music and I would automatically choreograph.

Even by the second grade, I was choreographing routines.

Wait, they do let there's an author that always has swords on the wall behind him.

So I think you just have to make it a display situation.

And then now I hear music and I'm like, that is the perfect song to unalive future people.

So I make TikTok videos and 60 songs are really fun because I'll pick random songs that people are like, I think we're alone now.

I did.

And they were like, I would never have thought of that as a stalking style song until you did it.

I'm like I know, right?

So you said the first one, you had people help you edit it.

So what did you you obviously typed, actually, your books don't say the end.

But anyways, you finished the book and then you sent it off to friends of yours or actual editors or how did that first one go about?

There were a couple of people that were actual editors that I happened to be friends with, and so they volunteered to do it because all authors are poor, but I'm still trailer park poor.

And so they offered to do it and then, unfortunately, by the time their second book came out, they were battling cancer and whatnot, and so it just became not feasible.

So that's how the first one got edited, was Friends, and then my dad reads them, which was very interesting because I forgot about some of the spicy scenes because I was more focused on the Stabby scenes.

And then I was reading through it, and I went, oh, crap.

No, this is not going to end well.

And so we agreed that I just give them a heads up, and we call it handholding for both of our sakes, and just leave it at that.

So I'm like Paige whatever.

To whatever.

They're going to be holding hands, just so you know.

And I think he does read them.

We just don't talk about them.

Because by the time we got to the Protector, I was still working, and he called me on my lunch break, and we had the whole conversation on if the carpet matches the drapes, which was disturbing enough, but he was like, You've got to change this.

And I said no.

And he's like, but they always match.

And I was like, no, they don't.

And he wouldn't drop it.

And I was like, dad, just drop it.

And he was like, TMI.

He's been high school sweethearts with my mom, like, never been with anybody else, so he was like, but your mother.

And I was like.

I don't want to know.

I don't want to know.

And because he does get stuck on certain things, he was just stuck on it.

So I just had to yell, because your daughters don't, and just hung up real quick.

And I was like, we cannot have these conversations like, these are the scenes we are not allowed to talk about, because I will never be able to look at you the same way.

I have also had those conversations with my parents.

I'm your child.

I don't want to know those things.

I don't want to know.

But he was like, I want to make sure it's accurate.

And I'm like, Trust me, out of all the rabbit holes I have gone down, this is accurate.

Okay?

Let it go.

We just talked about you googling chocolate being injected into people, so you definitely go down some rabbit holes.

I do.

I didn't realize it was supposed to be a trilogy initially.

So you finished the three books, realized it needed to be at least five books.

Let's not pretend that you might not extend it later.

That is true.

We've talked about it, and it can be extended later.

It'll provide closure.

But if I have to open that can of worms again, I can.

So you finished that.

What did you do to kind of promote the first book when you released it?

So I had been on Instagram, and I didn't get on TikTok until after the Pandemic because I kept hearing that my people were on there but I was like, are, you know, because I was working at Starbucks and saw all the kids making those dancing TikToks and the screw with the Starbucks worker.

And so I was already over TikTok before I ever actually got TikTok.

And when it came to marketing, I just did what everybody advised.

I did a lot of homework, but I found that it wasn't really working for me.

The thing is that you kind of have to find something that makes you comfortable.

And when I first started marketing The Key, it didn't feel comfortable.

And I did a ton of podcast interviews.

That was kind of what I started with because it wasn't like I had the bipolar story and everybody was like, if you get on TV and I'm like, nobody wants to talk about mental illness unless you're already behind bars.

It's just not something that TV actually picks up or anything like that.

And I didn't have the money to run ads, so I really started with podcast interviews, and I found that each time one posted, I kind of sold a couple of books because they appreciated the journey and everything.

But the first book, I mean, I put it out and I just kind of kept going.

And you have to realize that when the first one did come out, we were finally starting to find out what was going on with Nana.

So there's the dream realm, and I thought after The Key, it was going to be one and done, in all honesty.

And then we started finding out that Nana had cardiovascular dementia and know, we got told six months and different things like that.

And so in reality, the Protector, as you know, grew, and it had a council of death and all of that, and it was just really me kind of processing, having to let my most favorite person on the planet go, but not knowing when we knew it was going to happen.

We just didn't know when.

And so then Mother's Day came and she just went downhill really quick.

And so she actually passed the day after Mother's Day, and I had to hold her hand.

And hospice told us, you have to give them permission.

They will hold on until they have permission.

And so I told her she could go, and then she passed right after that.

And then the Protector came out that Friday, so it was very bittersweet.

So I did not promote the protector other than to know, I'm sorry Nana passed, but it is out.

So a lot of people bought it just because of what I was going through at the time.

The Key came out on my birthday because I felt like Sophie and I are very similar.

Like Sophie, I didn't grow up with imaginary friends.

I grew up with Sophie in My, so I wanted her to originally come out on my birthday.

So we both, you know, I had done a couple things for it, but it didn't quite fit right.

And then the second one I didn't promote at all because too much was going on.

Stormy liked the story of Anne of Green Gables as a kid, specifically the chapter where Anne breaks the slate over Gilbert's head.

Anne of Green Gables is a 1908 novel by Canadian author Lucy Maude Montgomery, published as L.

M.

Montgomery.

Written for all ages, it has been considered a classic children's novel since the mid 20th century.

Set in the late 19th century, the novel recounts the adventures of eleven year old orphan girl Anne Shirley, sent by mistake to two middle aged siblings, Matthew and Merlin Cuthbert, who had originally intended to adopt a boy to help them on their farm in the fictional town of Avon Lee in Prince Edward Island, Canada.

The novel recounts how Anne makes her way through life with the Cuthberts in school and within the town.

Since its publication, Anne of Green Gables has been translated into at least 36 languages and has sold more than 50 million copies, making it one of the bestselling books worldwide.

It was the first of many novels.

Montgomery wrote numerous sequels, and since her death, another sequel has been published, as well as an authorized prequel titled Before Green Gables, this prequel was written in 2008 by Budge Wilson to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the book series.

The original book is taught to students around the world.

The book has been adapted as films, television films, and animated and live action television series.

Musicals and plays have also been created with productions annually in Canada, Europe and Japan.

Today we'll be reading the slate chapter from Anne of Green Gables.

Don't forget we're reading LeMorte de Arthur.

The Story of King Arthur and of his noble knights of the roundtable on our Patreon.

You can find the link in the show notes anne of Green Gables, Chapter 15 a Tempest in the School Teapot what a splendid day, said Anne, drawing a long breath.

Isn't it good just to be alive on a day like this?

I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it.

They may have good days, of course, but they can never have this one.

And it's splendid or still to have such a lovely way to go to school by, isn't it?

It's a lot nicer than going round by the road that is so dusty and hot, said Diana, practically peeping into her dinner basket and mentally calculating if the three juicy, toothsome raspberry tarts reposing there were divided among ten girls, how many bites each girl would have.

The little girls of Avonley school always pulled their lunches, and to eat three raspberry tarts all alone, or even to share them only with one's best chum, would have forever and ever branded as awful mean the girl who did it.

And yet, when the tarts were divided among ten girls, you just got enough to tantalize you the way anne and Diana went to school was a pretty one, Anne thought.

Those walks to and from school with Diana couldn't be improved upon even by imagination.

Going around by the main road would have been so unromantic, but to go by Lover's Lane and Willowmere and Violet Vale in a birch path was romantic, if ever anything was.

Lover's Lane opened out below the orchard at Green Gables and stretched far up into the woods to the end of the Cuthbert farm.

It was the way by which the cows were taken to the back pasture and the wood hauled home in winter.

Anne had named it Lover's Lane before she had been a month at Green Gables.

Not that lovers ever really walk there, she explained to Marilla.

But Diana and I are reading a perfectly magnificent book, and there's a Lover's Lane in it, so we want to have one, too.

And it's a very pretty name, don't you think?

So romantic.

We can't imagine the lovers into it.

You know, I like that lane because you can think out loud there without people calling you crazy.

Anne started out alone in the morning, went down Lover's Lane as far as the brook here.

Diana met her, and the two little girls went on up the lane under the leafy arch of maples.

Maples are such sociable trees, said Anne.

They're always rustling and whispering to you until they came to a rustic bridge.

Then they left the lane and walked through Mr.

Berry's back field and passed Willowmere.

Beyond Willowmere came Violet Vale, a little green dimple in the shadow of Mr.

Andrew Bell's big woods.

Of course, there are no Violets there now, Anne told Marilla, but Diana says there are millions of them in spring.

Oh, Marilla, can't you just imagine?

You see them.

It actually takes away my breath.

I named it Violet Vale.

Diana says she never saw the beat of me for hitting on fancy names for places.

It's nice to be clever at something, isn't it?

But Diana named the birch path.

She wanted to, so I let her.

But I'm sure I could have found something more poetical than plain birch Path.

Anybody can think of a name like that.

But the Birch Path is one of the prettiest places in the world, Marilla.

It was.

Other people besides Anne thought so when they stumbled on it, it was a little, narrow, twisting path winding down over a long hill, straight through Mr.

Bell's woods, where the light came down, sifted through so many emerald screens that it was as flawless as the heart of a diamond.

It was fringed in all its length with slim young birches, white stemmed and lissombowed, ferns and starflowers and wild lilies of the valley, and scarlet tufts of pigeon berries grew thickly along it.

And always there was a delightful spiciness in the air and music of bird calls and the murmur and laugh of woodwinds in the trees overhead.

Now and.

Then you might see a rabbit skipping across the road if you were quiet, which with Anne and Diana happened about once in a blue moon down in the valley.

The path came out to the main road, and then it was just up the spruce hill to the school.

The Avonley School was a whitewashed building, low in the eaves and wide in the windows furnished inside with comfortable, substantial old fashioned desks that opened and shut and were carved all over their lids with the initials and hieroglyphics of three generations of schoolchildren.

The schoolhouse was set back from the road, and behind it was a dusky fur wood and a brook where all the children put their bottles of milk in the morning to keep cool and sweet until dinner hour.

Merla had seen Anne start off to school on the first day of September with many secret misgivings.

Anne was such an OD girl.

How would she get on with the other children?

And how on earth would she ever manage to hold her tongue during school hours?

Things went better than Marilla feared, however.

Anne came home that evening in high spirits.

I think I'm going to like school here, she announced.

I don't think much of the master, though.

He's all the time curling his mustache and making eyes at Prissy Andrews.

Prissy has grown up, you know.

She's 16, and she's studying for the entrance examination into Queen's Academy at CHARLOTETOWN next year.

Tilly Bolter says the master is dead gone on her.

She's got a beautiful complexion and curly brown hair, and she does it up so elegantly.

She sits in the long seat at the back, and he sits there too most of the time to explain her lessons, he says.

But Ruby Gillis says she saw him writing something on her slate, and when Prissy read it, she blushed as red as a beat and giggled.

And Ruby Gillis says she doesn't believe it had anything to do with the lesson.

And surely don't let me hear you talking about your teacher in that way again, said Marilla sharply.

You don't go to school to criticize the master.

I guess.

He can teach you something, and it's your business to learn.

And I want you to understand right off that you are not to come home telling tales about him.

That is something I won't encourage.

I hope you were a good girl.

Indeed I was, said Anne comfortably.

It wasn't so hard as you might imagine, either.

I sit with Diana, our seat is right by the window, and we can look down to the Lake of Shining Waters.

There are a lot of nice girls in school, and we had scrumptious fun playing at dinner time.

It's so nice to have a lot of little girls to play with, but of course I like Diana best and always will.

I adore Diana.

I'm dreadfully far behind the others.

They're all in the fifth book, and I'm only in the fourth.

I feel that it's kind of a disgrace, but there's not one of them has such an imagination as I have, and I soon found that out.

We had reading and geography and Canadian history and dictation.

Today.

Mr.

Phillips said my spelling was disgraceful and he held up my slate so that everybody could see it all marked over.

I felt so mortified Merla.

He might have been politer to a stranger, I think Ruby Gillis gave me an apple, and Sophia Sloan lent me a lovely pink card with May I see you home on it.

I'm to give it back to her tomorrow, and Tilly Bolter let me wear her bead ring all the afternoon.

Can I have some of those pearl beads off the old pincushion in the Garrett to make myself a ring?

And oh, Marilla, Jane Andrews told me that Minnie McPherson told her that she heard Prissy Andrews tell Sarah Gillis that I have a very pretty nose.

Marilla, that is the first compliment I've ever had in my life, and you can't imagine what a strange feeling it gave me.

Marilla, have I really a pretty nose?

I know you'll tell me the truth.

Your nose is well enough, said Marilla shortly.

Secretly she thought Anne's nose was a remarkable pretty one, but she had no intention of telling her so.

That was three weeks ago, and all had gone smoothly so far.

And now, this crisp September morning, anne and Diana were tripping blithely down the birch path.

Two of the happiest little girls in Avonlea.

I guess Gilbert Blythe.

Will be in school today, said Diana.

He's been visiting his cousins over in New Brunswick all summer, and he only came home Saturday night.

He's awfully handsome, Anne, and he teases the girls something terrible.

He just torments our lives out.

Diana's voice indicated that she rather liked having her life tormented out than not.

Gilbert Blythe, said Anne.

Isn't his name that's written up on the porch wall with Julia bells and a big take notice over them?

Yes, said Diana, tossing her head.

But I'm sure he doesn't like Julia bell so very much, I've heard him say.

He studied the multiplication table by her freckles.

Oh, don't speak about freckles to me, implored Anne.

It isn't delicate when I've got so many.

But I do think that writing take notices up on the wall about the boys and girls is the silliest ever.

I should just like to see anybody dare to write my name up with a boys.

Not, of course, she hastened to add, that anybody would.

Anne sighed.

She didn't want her name written up, but it was a little humiliating to know that there was no danger of it.

Nonsense, said Diana, whose black eyes and glossy tresses had played such havoc with the hearts of Avonley Schoolboys that her name figured on the porch walls and half a dozen take notices.

It's only meant as a joke.

And don't you be too sure your name won't ever be written up.

Charlie Sloan is dead.

Gone on you.

He told his mother his mother, mind you, that you were the smartest girl in school.

That's better than being good looking.

No, it isn't, said Anne.

Feminine to the core.

I'd rather be pretty than clever, and I hate Charlie Sloan.

I can't bear a boy with goggle eyes.

If anyone wrote my name up with his, I'd never get over it.

Diana Berry.

But it is nice to keep head of your class.

You'll have Gilbert in your class after this, said Diana, and he's used to being head of his class, I can tell you.

He's only in the fourth book, although he's nearly 14.

Four years ago his father was sick and had to go out to Alberta for his health, and Gilbert went with him.

They were there three years and Gil didn't go to school hardly until they came back.

You won't find it so easy to keep head after this, Anne.

I'm glad, said Anne quickly.

I couldn't really feel proud of keeping head of little boys and girls of just nine or ten.

I got up yesterday spelling abolition.

Josie Pi was head, and mind you, she peeped in her book.

Mr.

Phillips didn't see her.

He was looking at Prissy Andrews.

But I did.

I just swept her a look of freezing scorn and she got as red as a beat and spelled it wrong.

After all, those Pie girls are cheats all round, said Diana indignantly as they climbed the fence of the main road.

Gertie Pie actually went and put her milk bottle in my place in the brook yesterday.

Did you ever?

I don't speak to her now.

When Mr.

Phillips was in the back of the room hearing Prissy Andrews's Latin, diana whispered to Anne that's Gilbert Blythe sitting right across the aisle from you, Anne.

Just look at him and see if you don't think he's handsome.

Anne looked accordingly.

She had a good chance to do so, for the said gilbert Blythe was absorbed in stealthily pinning the long yellow braid of Ruby Gillis, who sat in front of him, to the back of her seat.

He was a tall boy with curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile.

Presently Ruby Gillis started up to take a thumb to the master.

She fell back into her seat with a little shriek, believing that her hair was pulled out by the roots.

Everybody looked at her, and Mr.

Phillips glared so sternly that Ruby began to cry.

Gilbert had whisked the pin out of sight and was studying his history with the soberst face in the world.

But when the commotion subsided, he looked at Anne and winked with inexpressible droolery.

I think your Gilbert Blythe is handsome, confided Anne to Diana, but I think he's very bold.

It isn't good manners to wink at a strange girl.

But it was not until the afternoon that things really began to happen.

Mr Phillips was back in the corner, explaining a problem in algebra to Prissy Andrews, and the rest of the scholars were doing pretty much as they pleased, eating green apples, whispering, drawing pictures on their slates, and driving crickets harnessed to strings up and down aisle.

Gilbert Blythe.

Was trying to make Anne Shirley look at him, and failing utterly because Anne was at that moment totally oblivious not only to the very existence of Gilbert Blythe, but of every other scholar in Avonley School itself.

With her chin propped on her hands and her eyes fixed on the blue glimpse of the lake of shining waters that the west window afforded, she was far away in a gorgeous dreamland, hearing and seeing nothing save her own wonderful visions.

Gilbert Blythe.

Wasn't used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure.

She should look at him, that red haired Shirley girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren't like the eyes of any other girl in Evanley school.

Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne's long red braid, held it out at arm's length and said in a piercing whisper, carrots.

Carrots.

Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance.

She did more than look.

She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin.

She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears.

You mean hateful, boy.

She exclaimed passionately.

How dare you.

And then thwack, anna had brought her slate down on Gilbert's head and cracked it.

Slate, not head, clear across.

Avonley's School always enjoyed a scene.

This was an especially enjoyable one.

Everybody said oh.

In horrified delight.

Diana gasped.

Ruby Gillis, who was inclined to be hysterical, began to cry.

Tommy Sloan let his team of crickets escape him altogether.

While he stared open mouthed at the tableau.

Mr Phillips stalked down the aisle and laid his hand heavily on Anne's shoulder.

Anne Shirley, what does this mean?

He said angrily.

Anne returned no answer.

It was asking too much of flesh and blood to expect her to tell before the whole school that she had been called carrots.

Gilbert it was, who spoke up stoutly.

It was my fault, Mr Phillips, I teased her.

Mr Phillips paid no heed to Gilbert.

I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit, he said in a solemn tone, as if the mere fact of being a pupil of his ought to root out all evil passions from the hearts of small, imperfect mortals.

Anne, go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon.

Anne would have indefinitely preferred a whipping to this punishment, under which her sensitive spirit quivered as from a whiplash with a white set face.

She obeyed Mr Phillips took a chalk crown and wrote on the blackboard above her head anne Shirley has a very bad temper.

Anne Shirley must learn to control her temper and then read it out loud so that even the primer class who couldn't read writing should understand it.

Anne stood there the rest of the afternoon with that legend above her.

She did not cry or hang her head.

Anger was still too hot in her heart for that, and it sustained her amid all her agony of humiliation.

With resentful eyes and passion red cheeks, she confronted alike Diana's sympathetic gaze and Charlie Sloan's indignant nods and Josie Pie's malicious smiles.

As for Gilbert Blythe.

She would not even look at him.

She would never look at him again.

She would never speak to him.

When school was dismissed, Anne marched out with her red head held high.

Gilbert Blythe.

Tried to intercept her at the porch door.

I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne, he whispered contritely.

Honest I am.

Don't be mad for keeps now.

Anne swept by disdainfully, without look or sign of hearing.

Oh, how could you, Anne?

Breathed Diana as they went down the road, half reproachfully, half admiringly.

Diana felt that she could never have resisted Gilbert's plea.

I shall never forgive Gilbert Blythe.

Said Anne firmly.

And Mr.

Phillips spelled my name without an e, too.

The iron has entered into my soul, Diana.

Diana hadn't the least idea what Anne meant, but she understood it was something terrible.

You mustn't mind Gilbert making fun of your hair, she said soothingly.

Why, he makes fun of all the girls.

He laughs at mine because it's so black.

He's called me a crow a dozen times, and I never heard him apologize for anything before either.

There's a great deal of difference between being called a crow and being called carrots, said Anne with dignity.

Gilbert Blythe has hurt my feelings, excruciatingly Diana.

It is possible the matter might have blown over without more excruciation if nothing else had happened.

But when things begin to happen, they are apt to keep on.

Avonley scholars often spent noon hour picking gum in Mr.

Bell's spruce grove, over the hill and across his big pasture field.

From there they could keep an eye on Eben wright's house, where the master boarded.

When they saw Mr.

Phillips emerging therefrom, they ran for the schoolhouse.

But the distance being about three times longer than Mr.

Wright's Lane, they were very apt to arrive there breathless and gasping, some three minutes too late.

On the following day, Mr.

Phillips was seized with one of his spasmodic fits of reform and announced before going home to dinner that he should expect to find all the scholars in their seats when he returned.

Anyone who came in late would be punished.

All the boys and some of the girls went to Mr.

Bell's spruce grove as usual, fully intending to stay only long enough to pick a chew.

But spruce groves are seductive and yellow nuts of gum beguiling they picked, and loitered and strayed, and as usual, the first thing that recalled them to a sense of the flight of time was Jimmy Glover shouting from the top of a patriarchal old spruce master's coming.

The girls who were on the ground started first and managed to reach the schoolhouse in time, but without a second despair.

The boys who had to wriggle hastily down from the trees were later and Anne, who had not been picking gum at all, but was wandering happily in the far end of the grove, waist deep among the bracken, singing softly to herself with a wreath of rice lilies on her hair as if she were some wild.

Divinity of the shadowy places was latest of all.

Anne could run like a deer.

However run she did, with the impish result that she overtook the boys at the door and was swept into the schoolhouse among them, just as Mr.

Phillips was in the act of hanging up his hat.

Mr.

Phillips'brief reforming energy was over.

He didn't want the bother of punishing a dozen pupils, but it was necessary to do something to save his word.

So he looked about for a scapegoat and found it in Anne, who had dropped into her seat, gasping for breath with a forgotten lily wreath, hanging a skew over one ear and giving her a particularly rakish and disheveled appearance.

Anne Shirley, since you seem to be so fond of the boy's company, we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon, he said sarcastically.

Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe.

The other boy, snickered Diana, turning pale with pity, plucked the wreath from Anne's hair and squeezed her hand.

Anne stared at the master as if turned to stone.

Did you hear what I said?

Anne?

Queried.

Mr.

Phillips.

Sternly.

Yes, sir, said Anne slowly.

But I didn't suppose you really meant it.

I assure you I did.

Still, with the sarcastic inflection which all the children, and Anne especially hated it, flicked on the raw.

Obey me at once.

For a moment Anne looked as if she meant to disobey.

Then, realizing that there was no help for it, she rose, hudily, stepped across the aisle, sat down beside Gilbert Blythe.

And buried her face in her arms.

On the desk, Ruby Gillis, who got a glimpse of it as it went down, told the others going home from school that she'd actually never seen anything like it.

It was so white, with awful little red spots in it.

To Anne, this was as the end of all things.

It was bad enough to be singled out for punishment from among a dozen equally guilty ones.

It was worse still to be sent to sit with a boy.

But that that boy should be Gilbert Blythe was heaping insult on injury to a degree utterly unbearable.

Anne felt that she could not bear it, and it would be of no use to try her whole being seethed with shame and anger and humiliation.

At first the other scholars looked and whispered and giggled and nudged, but as Anne never lifted her head, and as Gilbert worked fractions, as if his whole soul was absorbed in them and them only, they soon returned to their own tasks, and Anne was forgotten.

When Mr.

Phillips called the history class out, anne should have gone, but Anne did not move, and Mr.

Phillips, who had been writing some verses to Priscilla before he called the class, was thinking about an obstinate rhyme still and never missed her.

Once, when nobody was looking, gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it you are sweet, and slipped it under the curve of Anne's arm.

Whereupon Anne arose, took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, dropped it on the floor, ground it to powder beneath her heel, and resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert.

When school went out, Anne marched to her desk, ostentatiously took out everything therein books and writing, tablet, pen and ink, testament and arithmetic and piled them neatly on her cracked slate.

What are you taking all those things home for, Anne?

Diana wanted to know as soon as they were out on the road.

She had not dared to ask the question before.

I'm not coming back to school anymore, said Anne.

Diana gasped and stared at Anne to see if she meant it.

Will Marilla let you stay home?

She asked.

She'll have to, said Anne.

I'll never go to school to that man again.

Oh, Anne.

Diana looked as if she were ready to cry.

I do think you're mean, what shall I do?

Mr.

Phillips will make me sit with that horrid Girdy pie.

I know he will, because she's sitting alone.

Do come back, Anne.

I'd do almost anything in the world for you, Diana, said Anne sadly.

I'd let myself be torn limb from limb if it would do you any good.

But I can't do this, so please don't ask it.

You harrow up my very soul.

Just think of all the fun you will miss mourned Diana.

We're going to build the loveliest new house down by the Brook, and we'll be playing ball next week.

And you've never played ball, Anne.

It's tremendously exciting, and we're going to learn a new song.

Jane Andrews is practicing it up now, and Alice Andrews is going to bring a new pansy book next week, and we're all going to read it out loud chapter about down by the Brook.

And you know, you're so fond of reading out loud, Anne.

Nothing moved Anne in the least.

Her mind was made up.

She would not go to school to Mr.

Phillips again.

She told Marilla so when she got home.

Nonsense, said Marilla.

It isn't nonsense at all, said Anne, gazing at Marilla with solemn, reproachful eyes.

Don't you understand, Marilla?

I've been insulted.

Insulted?

Fiddlesticks.

You'll go to school tomorrow as usual.

Oh, no.

Anne shook her head gently.

I'm not going back, Marilla.

I'll learn my lessons at home, and I'll be as good as I can be and hold my tongue all the time, if it's possible at all.

But I will not go back to school, I assure you.

Morla saw something remarkably like unyielding stubbornness looking out of Anne's small face.

She understood that she would have trouble in overcoming it, but she resolved wisely to say nothing more just then.

I'll run down and see Rachel about it this evening, she thought.

There's no use reasoning with Anne now.

She's too worked up.

And I have an idea.

She can be awful stubborn if she takes the notion.

Far as I can make out from her story, mr.

Phillips has been carrying matters with a rather high hand.

But it would never do to say so to her.

I'll just talk it over with Rachel.

She's sent ten children to school, and she ought to know something about it.

She'll have heard the whole story, too.

By this time, Marla found Mrs.

Lind knitting quilts as industriously and cheerfully as usual.

I suppose you know what I've come about, she said, a little shame facedly.

Mrs.

Rachel nodded.

About Anne's fuz in school, I reckon, she said Tilly Bolter was in on her way home from school and told me about it.

I don't know what to do with her, said Marilla.

She declares she won't go back to school.

I never saw a child so worked up.

I've been expecting trouble ever since she started to school.

I knew things were going too smooth to last.

She's so high strung.

What would you advise, Rachel?

Well, since you've asked my advice, Marilla, said Mrs.

Lind amiably.

Mrs.

Lind dearly loved to be asked for advice.

I just humor her a little at first.

That's what I do.

It's my belief that Mr.

Phillips was in the wrong.

Of course, it doesn't do to say so to the children, you know.

And of course, he did write to punish her yesterday for giving way to temper.

But today it was different.

The others who were late should have been punished as well as Anne, that's what.

And I don't believe in making the girls sit with the boys for punishment.

It isn't modest.

Tilly bolter was real indignant.

She took Anne's part right through and said all the scholars did, too.

Anne seems real popular among them.

Somehow I never thought she'd take with him so well.

Then you really think I'd better let her stay home?

Said Marilla in amazement.

Yes.

That is, I wouldn't say school to her again until she said it herself.

Depend upon it, Marilla.

She'll cool off in a week or so and be ready enough to go back of her own accord, that's what.

Well, if you were to make her go back right off.

Dear knows what freak or tantrum she'd make next and make more trouble than ever.

The less fuss made, the better, in my opinion.

She won't miss much by not going to school.

As far as that goes, Mr.

Phillips isn't any good at all as a teacher.

The order he keeps is scandalous, that's what.

And he neglects the young fry and puts all his time on those big scholars.

He's getting ready for queens.

He'd never have got the school for another year if his uncle hadn't been a trustee.

The trustee for he just leads the other two around by the nose, that's what.

I declare.

I don't know what education in this island is coming to.

Mrs.

Rachel shook her head as much as to say if she were only at the head of the educational system of the province, things would be much better managed.

Marilla took Rachel's advice, and not another word was said to Anne about going back to school.

She learned her lessons at home, did her chores, and played with Diana in the chilly purple autumn twilights.

But when she met Gilbert Blythe.

On the road or encountered him in Sunday school, she passed him by with an icy contempt that was no wit thawed by his evident desire to appease her.

Even Diana's efforts as a peacemaker were of no avail.

Anne had evidently made up her mind to hate Gilbert Blythe.

To the end of life as much as she hated Gilbert.

However did she love Diana with all the love of her passionate little heart, equally intense in its likes and dislikes?

One evening, Marilla, coming in from the orchard with a basket of apples, found Anne sitting along by the east window in the twilight, crying bitterly.

Whatever's the matter now, anne she asked.

It's about Diana, sobbed Anne luxuriously.

I love Diana.

So Marilla.

I cannot ever live without her.

But I know very well when we grow up that Diana will get married and go away and leave me.

And oh, what shall I do?

I hate her husband.

I just hate him furiously.

I've been imagining it all out, the wedding and everything.

Diana dressed in snowy garments with a veil and looking as beautiful and regal as a queen, and me, the bridesmaid, with a lovely dress, too, and puffed sleeves, but with a breaking heart, hid beneath my smiling face, and then bidding Diana goodbye.

Here Anne broke down entirely and wept with increasing bitterness.

Marla turned quickly away to hide her twitching face, but it was no use.

She collapsed on the nearest chair and burst into such a hearty and unusual peal of laughter that Matthew, crossing the yard outside, halted in amazement.

When had he heard Marilla laugh like that before?

Well, Anne Shirley, said Marilla as soon as she could speak, if you must borrow trouble, for pity's sake, borrow it.

Handier home.

I should think you had an imagination, sure enough.

Thank you for joining Freya's fairy tales.