prince ♛ cole mackenzie

19 | a fib for a good cause

Silas rested his head in his arms atop the desk, watching Cole from the corner of his eye. He seemed to be in pain with his wrist, now without a bandage or sling. He lifted his arm to examine where it had broken.

"How's it feeling?" Silas asked.

"It's . . . better," sighed Cole, "I still can't write or draw."

"Just give it a few days. It'll heal."

"But what if it doesn't? What if I never draw again? I'd have to become a farmer. Or— or a shopkeeper."

"I think you'd make a really great shopkeeper."

"This is serious, Si."

"Drawing isn't the only form of art there is. And a broken wrist won't last forever; you'll be able to draw in no—"

"Alright, bright little minds. Open your readers. Let's pick up from where we last left off," Mr. Phillips told the class.

Silas gave Cole a small, reassuring smile. "I'll see you after class. Hang in there."

*   *   *   *   *

"Isn't it the point of life to seek what excites you?" Anne complained. "I mean, what happens? Does one smile to death?"

"My parents and I have never even been invited before! But God forbid Father had gone out with the world's tiniest sniffle," added Diana.

The girls lamented to each other on the other side of the den. Silas and Cole sat quietly while Cole struggled to sketch. From time to time, he would glance around the hut in irritation or chew his bottom lip.

"It's absurd that ladies aren't allowed to travel without a male companion," continued Anne.

"Agreed," Diana said.

"You should take a break," Silas said under his breath.

"I can't. If I stop drawing, I'll completely lose any hope I have of returning to it. Ugh!" Cole grunted and stood, looking at the little fire they had created.

"Cole, what're you—"

Silas was too late to grab his arm and stop him from tossing the sketchbook into the blaze. Flames lapped at the edges, slowly devouring its pages.

"Oh! Goodness me!" exclaimed Diana.

"Cole! What are you doing?" Anne hurried to grab for a stick on the ground to save the book.

"Leave it!"

"Cole, you've been drawing in that for forever. You can't just throw it in the fire!" Silas helped Anne lift the book, though it was no use. The spine was charred and the pages were ashes when they dropped it onto the earth.

"I said leave it!"

"Cole, why would you do such a thing?" Diana said.

They watched Anne lift the book; the remaining few pages were sketches of Anne, Silas and a fox. It was not Cole's best work, he had to admit. The injury had damaged his ability to do the one thing he loved most. No, Billy had.

"It should've been better by now."

"It will be," Anne insisted, "You just need time."

"I got my splint off weeks ago, Anne. It's just not the same. I can't draw anymore!"

"Cole, it's—"

Silas hesitantly reached his hand towards Cole's arm, but Cole left the den with his book bag before they could comfort him. The girls scrambled to grab their belongings. "Just— Cole, just wait. Cole!"

"Cole, you can't just walk away from your art," Silas followed him into the bitter snow.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Please, Cole. Hiding your feelings from everyone until you take them out on your beloved sketchbook isn't the best way to deal with this. We want to help you."

Diana and Anne joined them. "Could this day be any colder to match out wintery moods?"

"That's precisely why Aunt Josephine has her party. A summer-themed soirée to chase away the winter gloom," Diana mentioned without thinking.

"Oh, could it be any more perfect? It's what we all need," Anne said.

"Cole especially."

They did not speak for some time, too melancholy to begin conversation on another topic. Anne broke the silence.

"Cole is a man . . . Cole is a man! Diana, what if we could convince your parents to let Cole accompany us to Charlottetown?! Marilla would have to relent! How can she say a party isn't for children if you're both going? And Silas isn't too much shorter than Cole. It's marvellous!"

"You are very tall," smiled Diana.

"Cole, isn't it just the thing you need in your time of deep sadness?"

"To attend a party in a room filled with strangers?"

"We'll be there together," Silas spoke.

"My folks would never let me miss a Saturday on the farm, anyway." Cole was biting his lip again, deep in thought.

"If I can come up with a plan, will you do it?" Anne pleaded.

"Just imagine all the wonderful things you can draw when your wrist is fully healed," he added.

Cole hesitated before answering, "Alright."

Anne pulled a delicate pen from her pocket suddenly and displayed it before their eager eyes. "The pen of duplicity. Perfect tool for concocting a most perfect lie."

"A fib?"

"For a good cause."

♛ ✧ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*.

𝓥: road work ahead??