The Dead Poets

9

Finally, it was the last period of the day and I had successfully managed to avoid Charlie. Which would be short lived, since we had our last class- english- together.

Although I knew Charlie 'liked' me, Neil telling me last night made me realize he truly liked me.

Not just simply because of my anatomy...but because of my personality- and I gather that doesn't happen often to guys like Charlie Dalton.

"Alright class, open your textbooks to page 21," Mr. Keating instructs, taking a seat at his large wooden desk placed at the front of the room.

"Ugh...Mr. Perry!" Mr. Keating says slowly, after scanning over the class.

"Will you please read the opening paragraph titled 'understanding poetry'." He asks, to which Neil opens the old book to the correct page, adjusting his reading glasses before continuing.

"Understanding poetry, by Dr. J Evans Pritchard. To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech..." Neil read, to which I began to become distracted by the constant and rather demanding thoughts of Charlie running through my mind.

For most girls, having a boy like Charlie, developing a liking for them would thrill and entice them.

But I'm not most girls...

The idea of a relationship terrifies me. I was homeschooled all my life, with my only social interactions being limited to that of my tutors and my parents 'hired help'.

Charlie on the other hand, was extremely outgoing, charming, smooth talking, and charismatic. Many characteristics that I, although admire, do not possess.

I suppose it's my own demons and insecurities holding me back. Although I have never been faced with so many options, I believe under different circumstances, I would gravitate more towards someone like Todd, or Meeks.

Quiet and reclusive, yet undeniably intelligent and caring. But something about Charlie intrigued me. From the moment I laid eyes on him and his laid back, cool and collected demeanour, I became hooked.

"Excrement!" I heard Mr. Keating yell, instantly pulling me from my previous thoughts.

"That's what I think of Mr. J Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry!" He shouts, referring to the previous chapter Neil had read.

"Now I want you to rip out that page!" Mr. Keating yells rather excitedly. As I scan over the faces of the other students, I notice everyone is as hesitant as I am-that is everyone but Charlie of course.

The sound of a page being harshly torn from a book causes all of our attentions to be drawn to the back of the class, as a rather smug looking Charlie humorously dangles the ripped out page above his head on display.

"Thank You, Mr. Dalton." Keating praises, to which the smirk plastered on Charlie's face grows even wider.

"Tell you what, don't just tear out the page, tear out the entire introduction!" He shouts, seeming to encourage the other boys, as they all follow suit, myself included.

"It's not the bible." Mr. Keating informs Cameron, upon noticing he's the only student who hasn't done as instructed. Although not surprisingly, seeing as he's a stickler for rules.

"You're not going to go to hell for this." He promises, causing me to giggle, to which Keating sends me a playful wink and Cameron shoots me a dangerous glare.

"What the hell is going on here?" Another professor, with a personality-or lack there of- like Nolan's enters the room rather abruptly.

Mr. Keating then appears from a small room, hidden in the back of the classroom, carrying a black waste bin in his arms.

"Mr. Keating..." The older professor begins, seeming at a loss for words, due to the rather astonishing scene unfolding in front of him.

"Mr. McAllister." Keating responds nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't know you were here..." Replies a baffled Mr. McAllister, seemingly at a loss for words, before turning around and exciting the classroom with a huff.