The Dead Poets

8

I have to admit, walking through the eerie forest, past the ongoing stream, under the starry sky, all the while hand in hand with Charlie, felt quite nice.

I don't know how to explain it, but there's something about him I find quite intriguing.

He's different from most boys here. He's not the most studious, in fact quite the opposite, but his humour and personality surpass most by miles.

Albeit, I'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Plus, I quite like the attention he gives me, as he desperately tries to get me to fall for his "charms" as he so humbly refers to them as.

What scares me the most— is that it's beginning to work...

I quickly push those thoughts to the back of my mind as we reach the cave.

Charlie hops in first, quickly turning back around and helping me in after him.

I silently thank him, before taking a seat on a dirt-covered boulder, next to Todd.

Once everyone has arrived, Neil stands, carrying an old and tattered leather book in his right hand.

"I hereby reconvene the Dead Poets Society," he begins.

"I'll now read the traditional opening message by society member Henry David Thoreau," Neil continues, and I can't help but wonder where he got that book from. I figure he must have dug it up from the library, but even on my many trips there, I have never seen such book.

I ignore my wondering mind, trying to place my attention back towards Neil.

"I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life. And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived..."

Neil finishes the reading, closing the book, as a moment of silence came over us all, as we tried to soak in the words Neil had just read.

"Okay intermission," Charlie calls aloud, breaking the silence.

I roll my eyes, seeing as we have only been in the cave for all of fifteen minutes.

After ordering Meeks to lay his jacket down on the dirt covered ground, he instructs the rest of us to place all the food we managed to steal from today's meals in the centre.

To say the spread wasn't the least bit appetizing, was an understatement.

Laid before us was a box of raisins, two apples, some sort of green vegetable, and a half eaten dinner roll.

"Who brought half a roll?" Charlie questions, to which Pitts shyly smiles through a mouthful of what appears to be the other half.

The remainder of the meeting consisted of everyone taking turns reading from the old book Neil brought, and even some of our own poetry.

After a few hours, and total exhaustion, we return to our rooms.

I walk alongside the other boys through the dark, cool forest, as we make the somewhat long trek back to Welton.

We walk mainly in silence, not an awkward silence, but a comfortable silence. Soaking in— as Mr. Keating would say— the enchantment of the moment.

That was, until we finally reach our hall. And as I make my way towards my door, Neil stops me.

"Violet?" He asks, gently grasping my arm.

"Hmm," I hum sleepily, indicating for him to continue.

"You know—ugh— Charlie really likes you. I mean a lot... he talks about you quite a bit, and well despite how much I've grown to like you, it's becoming a little tiring," He says, chuckling lightly at the last part.

My eyes widen, my cheeks growing hot at Neil's sudden confession.

"I— I—" I stutter, unsure exactly of what to say.

"Just think about it. I know he can be irritating at times, but he's a really great person," Neil finishes, offering me a genuine smile.

"I will," I promise, before saying my goodbyes to Neil and parting ways.

As I lay in bed that night, I find myself lying awake, staring at the same plain white ceiling, and thinking of Charlie.

Oh no...