As I said, Deflation is completely unrelated to Blythe Spirit. Deflation is, if you will, an experiment with Gil's conceit. You see the Gil I present here is shamelessly self-assured, whilst "my" Gilbert, the one in Blythe, is somewhat more restrained. Enjoy!

The picnic promised to be a good time: there was ice-cream, and lemonade, and cake, and cookies…Gilbert dragged his mind away from confectionery and baked goods for a moment. There would also be a three-legged race, among other races. And Gilbert was the fastest runner of all the boys.

Gilbert was more or less the teenage paragon of Avonlea. Girls swooned at his feet, every boy clamored to be his friend, he was healthy and strong and—well, good-looking. The amount of times he had heard this last statement about himself would have turned any boy’s head. Indeed, Gilbert was, at thirteen, in a fair way to become conceited and arrogant soon.

After all…who could bring him down?

At the picnic Gilbert decided to scout out a good partner for the three-legged race. Gilbert’s best friend Fred Wright, who was also a swift runner, was nearby, so Gilbert tackled him first. “Oi, Fred!”

Fred looked around in surprise, nearly spilling his flimsy glass cup of lemonade down his front. “What? Oh, hey Gil. What’s up?”

“I need a partner for the three-legged race,” he said casually, choosing his words carefully, “so…if you know any one who’s really good…and wants to run with me…”

Fred laughed, actually laughed.

“What?!” demanded Gilbert, abandoning all pretense. “Why’re you laughing at me, Fred?”

Fred chuckled. “You might want to get home from vacation earlier next year, Gil Blythe! Everyone’s paired up!”

Gilbert groaned aloud. “Great. Just great. What am I gonna do?” He burined his head in his hands.

“Well…” grinned Fred.

“Well, what?” Gilbert looked up quickly, as if afraid he would miss Fred’s words by continuing to stare at his palms.

“There is Moody Spurgeon…” Fred suggested.

Gilbert clapped Fred on the back. “Fred, you’re a lifesaver.” He ran off to find Moody.

“Gil!”

Gilbert looked up. There was Moody himself, waving his hat at Gilbert.

“Oh—Moody!” exclaimed Gilbert enthusiastically.

“How was your summer?” queried Moody politely.

“It was fine—look. Can you be my partner for the three-legged race?”

Moody’s eyes lit up, and his gangly figure seemed to straighten and grow taller. “Really, Gil? You mean it?”

“Course I do.”

“Okay, then!”

So what if Gilbert had never actually seen Moody run? With long legs like those, they were bound to win!

The races began in five minutes…of course, Gilbert won all the single races…and he was so used to receiving the little blue- or red-satin ribbons that he shoved the whole handful unceremoniously into his trousers pocket.

The three-legged race was scheduled last.

As Gilbert and Moody tried to collaborate upon the matter of tying the strip of fabric around Moody’s right and Gilbert’s left ankles, Gilbert was surprised to hear feminine giggles coming from his right. He looked up.

Diana Barry was talking in a low voice as she and another girl bound their own ankles together. Gilbert couldn’t see who the other girl was because Diana was in the way; but Gilbert could glimpse blue cloth behind Diana’s pink flummery.

Gilbert was very surprised. Girls were all very well and good, but…why were they racing? To prove they were as good as boys at running?—ha! (Did they even think they had a chance of winning?) To be silly—as was the tendency of every girl in Avonlea?

Well, maybe Diana Barry was a little more rational than most other girls…but if that was Ruby Gillis next to her, Diana’s intelligence was effectively negated by Ruby’s—

At this interesting moment, the girl next to Diana laughed again. Her braid slid off her shoulder and dangled in mid-air.

Okay…I guess it’s NOT Ruby. But who could it be? No one in Avonlea had hair so red…except maybe Moody himself, who was decidedly on Gilbert’s other side, relieved that he could tie the fabric without interference from Gilbert, and decidedly not female.

“Hey, Diana!” he called aloud.

Diana finished tying the fabric neatly in a knot and looked up at Gilbert—with an air of contempt, but Gilbert could sense her excitement at having been addressed by Gilbert.

“Who’s your friend?” he asked. Moody was peering over Gilbert’s shoulder also, with curiosity.

“Anne Shirley,” replied Diana, in a dignified voice.

Anne Shirley had two braids of shockingly red hair, grey eyes, freckles, a rather pretty nose…and a real expression of disdain as she looked at Gilbert.

Just then, however, Mr. Barry—Diana’s father, could be ehard to say, “On your mark…”

Moody and Gilbert straightened mostly, as did the girls.

“Get set…”

The two boys rocked back and forth on their heels, ready to be set loose…as did the girls.

“GO!” Mr. Barry’s yell could be heard over the crisp CRACK of the little pistol he had just shot into the air.

Gilbert and Moody, along with the rest of the race’s line-up (only two of which children were girls), surged forward, staggering with the handicap of three legs and broader “shoulders”.

Gilbert and Moody had not gone four feet before Moody’s longs legs—the legs Gilbert had hoped would help him win the race—stuck out under Gilbert’s feet at an odd angle—

“Whoa, aaaaaaaahhhhh blhphhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The next few moments were a confusion of grass and hair and sweat and yells and arms and legs.

It took a few minutes to untangle the pileup that had occurred with almost every pair of runners in the race…at the bottom of which pile lay Gil and Moody. Finally, everyone else having removed themselves, moody and Gilbert sat up, too dazed to stand.

“Sorry, Gil,” gasped Moody dejectedly.

Gilbert laughed. “Don’t worry, Moody, it’s o…”

His voice trailed off as he watched Diana and her friend Anne Shirley receive red ribbons…the ribbons that should have gone to Gilbert and Moody!

“…kay?”

Gilbert was not actually mad. What he was, was impressed. Impressed that a girl—well, two girls—had managed to run faster than every other boy…pair of boys.

Just then Anne Shirley looked around. Her eyes fell upon Gilbert.

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at Anne Shirley in commendation…then winked.

But instead of blushes and not-so-subtle glances back at him, Gilbert received a condescending eyebrow and a frown from Anne Shirley! She turned back to Diana and favored her with a brilliant smile.

Gilbert fervently hoped Anne Shirley was in Avonlea for good, not merely visiting Diana.

Because, Anne Shirley, even if you don’t look like any other girl I’ve ever seen in Avonlea doesn’t mean I won’t be able to get you to act they way they do around me when school starts next week. You’ll see…