Chapter 27

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Punishment

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On the following day, Mr Phillips was seized with one of his spasmodic fits of reform and announced, before dismissing the class for lunch, that he should expect to find all the students in their seats when he returned. Anyone who came in late would be punished.

Mr Bell's indoor spruce grove had been chosen by all the lads and several of the girls for their lunch hour, with the intention of simply staying long enough to "take a look." But spruce groves were tough to handle, and yellow gum nuts enticing; they plucked, loitered, and strayed, and as usual, the first thing that jolted them back to reality was Moody Spurgeon shouting, "Teacher's coming!"

The girls were the first to leave and arrived in the schoolhouse on time, although with only a fraction of a second to spare. Later came the boys who had to wriggle their way through the grove. Florence, who had been strolling around the greenhouse rather than selecting flowers like everyone else, was the latest of all. She hadn't even noticed students were fleeing until the very last minute.

Florence could run fast. She ran so fast at that moment that she even overtook some of the boys at the door and was swept into the school among them just as Mr Phillips was in the process of hanging up his coat.

Mr Phillips' brief reforming energy was gone; he didn't want the bother of punishing a dozen pupils who were late, but he knew that it was something necessary to do in order to save his word. So, he looked about for a scapegoat and found it in Florence, who had dropped onto her seat, gasping for breath.

"Florence Robinson, since you seem to be so fond of the boys' company, we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon," he said sarcastically. "Take your books and go sit with Gilbert Blythe."

The other boys snickered. Prissy, turning pale with pity, squeezed her hand reassuringly. Florence stared at the teacher as if that was the worst thing he could've possibly asked her to do. This was so embarrassing.

"Did you hear what I said, Miss Robinson?" Mr Phillips queried sternly.

"Oh, I heard you just fine," she said slowly, "But I didn't think you meant it."

"I assure you I do." He still had the sarcastic inflexions which all the children, especially Florence, hated. It flicked on the raw. "Obey me at once."

For a moment, Florence considered disobeying him entirely. Then, realizing that there was no help for it, she rose haughtily, stepped across the classroom, and sat down beside Gilbert Blythe. Gilbert smiled kindly at her, but she just buried her face in her arms on the desk.

The other kids stared, muttered, nudged, and giggled at first (mainly the boys). But, while Florence scowled at each of them, and Gilbert continued to concentrate on the lecture as if it didn't concern him that he was seated next to a girl, Florence faded into obscurity. She assumed she was grateful to Gilbert for the fact that the rest of the class quickly forgot about her seat. He wasn't laughing or making fun of her like the others, which made her feel a little better.

***

"I simply despise that man," Florence told Cole after school that day as the duo walked across the schoolyards, not yet willing to return to their respective homes.

Cole chuckled. "You and me both."

Truthfully, Florence wasn't even sure why she was so hung up over the subject of being forced to sit with the boys. Was it because she'd never actually sat with any of the boys before? Or was it that Mr Phillips clearly needed a scapegoat and he found it in herself?

Cole's voice dragged her out of her absent-minded thoughts. "Don't let him get to you. Mr Phillips will forever be Mr Phillips." For some reason, Cole's reason caused her to smile. As if remembering something, Cole fetched out his notebook from his book bag and flipped to a certain page. Satisfied, he showed the page to Florence.

It was a sketch of her.

She supposed that the sketch looked a lot like herself, but her hair was a little longer now and she was a bit older, too. A grateful look crossed her face as she realized just how long Cole must have been working on this drawing of her.

"Cole . . ." she started, voice cracking. Clearing her throat, she added with a weak smile, "You truly have a talent."

"So, I've been told." Cole grinned as she hit his shoulder playfully.

"Don't go getting all cocky," she scolded with a smile, "But I really mean it, you know. Do you know what you want to do after school? Have you considered going into artistry?"

At that, Cole's once happiness had visibly died down, replaced with a look of sadness. "Mother wouldn't like it."

Florence's smile faltered a little. In today's world, no parent would support their child's desire to pursue a career in the arts. Their justifications would be that there was no real career line in that section or that the individual would end up living in rags.

It honestly didn't make much sense to her, but she couldn't really say anything against his mother's beliefs.

A teasing look returning, she wrapped a friendly arm around Cole's shoulder. "Well, I can't say anything about that. But if you ever need some drawing inspiration, you know where to find me."

Cole gave her a look before they both began to laugh.

***

Meanwhile, Billy Andrews sauntered inside the classroom, looking for a familiar someone. He had been searching all across the fields, but she was nowhere in sight. He approached Prissy, his older sister, who was sitting at her desk.

"Hey, sis," he half-greeted, wanting to get straight to the point. "Where's that friend of yours?"

Prissy raised a brow. Billy didn't usually ⸺ if at all ⸺ approach her whenever they were at school. He deemed that it was 'not a part of his image' to be conversing with his sister. Whatever that meant, but she didn't exactly care because Billy could be really annoying at times. "There's far too many to count. Who are you⸺"

"Robinson," he replied hushed. "Where is she?"

"She didn't sit with me at lunch today. I think I saw her going to the fields⸺"

Before Prissy could even finish that sentence, Billy rushed away. She just sighed and continued reading her book; Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. It was a book that Florence had actually recommended to her, so she just had to give it a read.

When Billy reached outdoors, he quickly began scanning the area for Florence. He soon did find the girl, to his dismay; she was walking across the snowy field. She wasn't, however, alone. Cole was by her side.

Unknowingly, a sneer made its way onto Billy's face. 

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