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THE GIRL WHO WALKED LIKE AIR
Avonlea Schoolhouse, 1899
Anne Shirley leaned back in her seat, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised as she watched Mrs. Stacy struggle to balance in a pair of black leather heels she’d borrowed from the village dressmaker. At seventeen, Anne had been modeling for three years—since she’d been scouted at a county fair when she was fourteen—and she could walk in stilettos so high they made most women dizzy, moving across any surface like she was gliding on clouds. Only Gilbert knew her secret, and he’d kept it tighter than a corset string.
“Now, class,” Mrs. Stacy said, wobbling slightly as she shifted her weight, “heel shoes are becoming increasingly popular in cities for formal occasions. The key is to keep your back straight, your shoulders back, and distribute your weight evenly across the ball of your foot—”
She took a step forward and nearly stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the blackboard with a small gasp. Ruby Gillis clapped her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with concern. Jane Andrews stood up quickly, ready to rush forward and help. Billy Andrews let out a low whistle. Moody Spurgeon pushed his spectacles up his nose and scribbled something in his notebook. Josie Pye just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
Anne couldn’t help it—she let out a sharp, bright laugh that cut through the quiet classroom.
“Something amusing, Anne?” Mrs. Stacy asked, her face flushed pink with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation.
“Nothing, Mrs. Stacy,” Anne said, though the corner of her mouth was still twitching with amusement. “It’s just… heels aren’t that hard to walk in. You look like you’re trying to stand on a pair of fence posts.”
Josie turned to look at her, her eyes narrowing. “Easy for you to say, Shirley. You’ve probably never worn a pair in your life.”
Anne stood up slowly, her movements deliberate and graceful. She was wearing her usual school dress—plain dark blue wool—but her feet were tucked into a pair of low-heeled leather shoes she’d bought specifically for class. “Never worn them?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please. I’ve been walking in heels since I was fourteen. It’s like breathing once you get the hang of it.”
Ruby’s eyes went wide. “You have? But… but you’re always wearing those sensible shoes to school!”
“Because sensible shoes are for school,” Anne said, walking to the front of the classroom. “Heels are for when you need to make an entrance. And trust me—when you know how to wear them, you can walk like you own the whole damn world.”
Gilbert watched from his seat, a small smile playing at his lips. He’d seen her walk the runway in Paris, in New York, in Toronto—her head held high, her hips swaying with effortless grace, heels so high they looked impossible. He knew exactly what she was capable of, and he was looking forward to the show.
Mrs. Stacy looked at Anne, then at the pair of heels on her feet, then back at Anne. “If you’re so confident, Anne,” she said, a note of challenge in her voice, “perhaps you’d like to demonstrate?”
“With pleasure,” Anne said, walking over to where Mrs. Stacy had set the borrowed heels on the desk. She knelt down to take off her shoes, and Billy leaned forward, his eyes wide with curiosity.
“Those are serious heels,” he said, whistling again. “How do women even walk in things like that?”
“Like this,” Anne said, slipping her feet into the shoes with practiced ease. She stood up slowly, and the difference was immediate—she seemed to grow several inches, her posture straightening until she looked like she could touch the ceiling. Her shoulders were back, her chin was high, and her eyes were bright with a confidence that made everyone sit up straighter.
“Now watch closely,” she said, her voice clear and sharp. “First rule—never look down at your feet. If you can’t see where you’re going, use your peripheral vision. Second rule—take small steps. You’re not trying to race anywhere. Third rule—sway your hips slightly as you walk. It helps with balance, and let’s be honest—it looks good.”
She took her first step, and the classroom fell silent. She moved across the wooden floorboards like she was gliding on air—each step precise, each movement fluid. She walked from one end of the classroom to the other, then turned and walked back, pausing in the middle to spin around gracefully, her dress swirling around her ankles.
Ruby was staring with her mouth wide open, her eyes shining with admiration. Jane had pulled out her sketchbook and was furiously drawing Anne’s silhouette. Billy was leaning so far forward he nearly fell out of his seat. Moody had stopped writing and was just staring, his spectacles sliding down his nose. Josie had uncrossed her arms and was watching with a mixture of jealousy and respect. Even Mrs. Stacy was staring, her face filled with wonder.
“Good Lord,” Billy breathed. “She’s like… like she’s walking on water or something.”
“More like walking down a runway,” Gilbert said quietly, and everyone turned to look at him. He cleared his throat quickly. “I mean… she just looks like she knows what she’s doing.”
Anne walked back to the desk and knelt down to take off the heels, her movements still graceful even as she bent over. “See?” she said, standing up in her sensible shoes again. “Not that hard. You just have to know how to carry yourself. Most women try to walk in heels like they’re wearing boots—stiff and awkward. You have to be fluid. Like you’re dancing.”
Josie stood up, walking over to the desk to look at the heels. “Can I try them on?” she asked, her voice surprisingly quiet.
“Be my guest,” Anne said, leaning against the desk with a smirk. “But fair warning—they’re not as easy as I make them look.”
Josie slipped her feet into the shoes and stood up, wobbling immediately. Ruby rushed forward to steady her, and Jane put down her sketchbook to help. “I can’t believe you do this without even thinking about it,” Josie said, her face flushed with effort as she tried to take a step.
“Practice,” Anne said, her voice still sarcastic but with a hint of kindness. “Three years of practice, to be exact. And a lot of blisters. Trust me—you don’t want to know how many pairs of heels I’ve gone through.”
Moody pushed his spectacles up his nose and cleared his throat. “How did you learn to walk like that, Anne?” he asked. “It’s not like there are classes for such things in Avonlea.”
Anne looked at Gilbert, who gave her a small nod. She’d told him she could tell the class some of the truth—just not all of it. “I had a… mentor,” she said carefully. “A woman who taught me when I was younger. She said that if you’re going to wear heels, you should wear them with confidence. That they’re not just shoes—they’re a statement.”
Ruby was still staring at Anne, her eyes wide with admiration. “You’re like a… like a lady from the city,” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone walk like that.”
“Cities are full of women who know how to wear heels,” Anne said, walking back to her seat. “It’s not that big a deal. But if any of you want tips—how to choose the right pair, how to break them in, how to walk without looking like you’re about to fall on your face—I’m happy to help. For a price, of course.”
She winked, and the class laughed, the tension breaking. Billy stood up and walked over to the desk, looking at the heels with curiosity. “Can I try them on?” he asked. “Just to see what it feels like?”
“Be my guest,” Anne said with a grin. “But don’t come crying to me when you can’t walk straight.”
Billy slipped his feet into the shoes and stood up, immediately wobbling so much he had to grab onto the desk to stay upright. The class burst out laughing, and even Anne couldn’t help but giggle as he tried to take a step and nearly fell over.
“Alright, alright,” he said, laughing as he took the shoes off. “I think heels are best left to the ladies. Though I have to say—Anne, you make it look easy.”
“Everything looks easy when you know what you’re doing,” Anne said, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied smile.
The rest of the lesson was spent talking about fashion trends in the cities, with Anne answering questions and offering tips. Jane asked how to choose heels that wouldn’t hurt your feet, and Anne explained about arch support and proper fit. Ruby asked how to walk in heels on uneven ground, and Anne demonstrated how to adjust your steps to the surface. Josie asked how to keep heels from slipping on wet floors, and Anne told her about adding rubber soles or using heel caps.
Moody was taking notes furiously, asking questions about the history of heels and how they’d evolved over time. “Did you know that heels were originally worn by men?” he said, pushing his spectacles up his nose. “In Persia, they were used by cavalry to keep their feet in the stirrups. They became popular with European men in the 17th century, then later became associated with women’s fashion.”
Anne raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You do your research, Moody,” she said. “Though you forgot to mention that in the 18th century, heels got so high that women had to be carried around by their servants. Not exactly practical, if you ask me.”
Billy laughed. “Can you imagine? Having to be carried everywhere just because you’re wearing shoes?”
“Some women would consider it worth it,” Anne said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Though I prefer to be able to walk on my own two feet. Even in heels.”
Mrs. Stacy walked over to Anne’s desk, looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. “Anne, you clearly know more about this than I do,” she said. “Where did you learn all of this? Your mentor—was she a dressmaker? A fashion designer?”
Anne looked at Gilbert again, and he gave her another small nod. “She was a model,” she said carefully. “A very famous one. She traveled all over the world, and she taught me everything she knew. She said that modeling isn’t just about looking pretty—it’s about confidence, about knowing how to carry yourself, about making people see you.”
Ruby’s eyes went wide. “A model? Anne, did you… did you ever model with her?”
Anne hesitated for a moment, then said, “I did some small jobs. Local things. Nothing major.”
Gilbert had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. He’d seen the posters of her in store windows in Toronto, the magazine covers she’d graced, the crowds that had gathered to watch her walk the runway in Paris. She was far more than just a “local model”—she was one of the most sought-after young models in North America. But he knew she wanted to keep that part of her life secret, at least for now.
Josie leaned forward, her eyes sharp with curiosity. “Local jobs? Like what? The county fair? The village store?”
“Something like that,” Anne said, waving a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. The point is—heels are just shoes. What matters is how you wear them. If you wear them with confidence, people will notice you. If you wear them like you’re scared of falling, people will just feel sorry for you.”
She stood up and walked to the front of the classroom again, even in her sensible shoes moving with the same grace and confidence she’d shown in heels. “So here’s my advice—if you want to wear heels, go for it. But practice first. Wear them around the house, wear them on flat ground, wear them until you feel like you could run a marathon in them. And most importantly—never let anyone tell you you can’t wear what you want. If you want to wear heels, wear them. If you want to wear boots, wear them. It’s your feet. It’s your life. Own it.”
The class sat in silence for a moment, then Ruby stood up and clapped. Soon the whole class was clapping, even Josie, who was smiling despite herself.
“Anne Shirley,” Billy said, grinning, “you’re full of surprises. First you can sing like an angel, now you can walk in heels like a… like a queen or something.”
“More like a model,” Gilbert said quietly, and everyone turned to look at him. He cleared his throat quickly. “I mean… she just has a lot of talents.”
Anne walked back to her seat, her face flushed with pleasure. She’d never told anyone except Gilbert about her modeling career, and it felt good to share even a small part of it with her classmates. She knew they’d have questions, knew they’d wonder why she’d kept it a secret, but for now, she was just happy to have shared something she loved with the people she cared about.
After class, the students filed out, still talking excitedly about Anne’s demonstration. Ruby walked over to her, her face bright with admiration. “Anne, that was amazing!” she said. “Can you teach me how to walk like that? I have a dance coming up next month, and I want to wear heels, but I’m terrified I’ll fall over.”
“Of course,” Anne said with a smile. “We can practice in my backyard tomorrow afternoon. Bring your heels, and I’ll show you all my tricks.”
Jane walked over, her sketchbook tucked under her arm. “I drew this,” she said, handing Anne a page with a beautiful drawing of her walking in heels. “I want to be a fashion illustrator one day, and you’re the perfect model.”
Anne looked at the drawing, her eyes shining with pride. “It’s beautiful, Jane,” she said. “You’re going to be famous one day. I just know it.”
Josie was the last to leave, walking over to Anne with a small smile. “You know, Shirley,” she said, “you’re not as bad as I thought you were. And you really do know how to wear heels.”
“Thanks, Josie,” Anne said, grinning. “Maybe one day you’ll even admit that I’m better at it than you are.”
“Not likely,” Josie said with a roll of her eyes, but she was still smiling as she walked out of the classroom.
Once everyone was gone, Gilbert walked over to Anne’s desk and leaned against it. “You were amazing in there,” he said. “Though you could have told them the whole truth. They’d be impressed, not shocked.”
Anne shook her head, packing her books into her satchel. “Not yet,” she said. “I like being Anne from Avonlea. The model is someone else. Someone who lives in cities and walks runways and has her picture in magazines. I don’t want that to change who I am here.”
Gilbert nodded, understanding. “I get it,” he said. “But one day, you’re going to have to tell them. They deserve to know the real you.”
Anne looked at him, her eyes softening. “I know,” she said. “And one day I will. But for now… let’s just enjoy the fact that they think I’m just a girl who knows how to walk in heels.”
She stood up and took his hand, walking out of the classroom with the same grace and confidence she’d shown earlier. Even in her sensible shoes, she walked like she was on a runway—head held high, shoulders back, ready to take on the world.
Gilbert squeezed her hand, smiling. He knew that one day, the whole world would know Anne Shirley—the model, the singer, the girl who could walk in heels like she was walking on air. But for now, she was just his Anne, and that was more than enough.