CHAPTER FOUR!
( WOMEN SWOON. )

   JOAN AND VIOLET sat down at the edge of the girls' table and ate quickly. The two of them wanted to be done with lunch so that they had time to finish their history homework before the looming due date. Before Joan even finished eating, she glanced over at the boys' table and saw them all passing around a book excitedly.

"What do you think they're looking at?" she asked Violet, overcome with curiosity.

"Why do you care so much?" she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Stop that. I'm just a curious person," Joan tried to defend herself, "Whatever, not my business anyway." However, as she was turning her head away, Charlie caught her eye, eagerly motioning for her to come over to his table.

"I guess you'll find out soon," Violet chuckled.

Joan looked at Charlie like he was crazy. Not getting up to socialize with other tables during lunch was an unwritten rule of Welton, let alone a table of the opposite gender. They would indefinitely be questioned and would most likely receive demerits if their reason was not deemed acceptable by the staff, which of course, nobody's reasoning was ever enough for the staff. There seemed to be a large number of unwritten rules at Welton, as well as many very clear, written rules. Joan shook her head despite her curiosity.

"I'll ask him later," Joan said, turning back to Violet.

"For someone who claims to find him ridiculously annoying, you sure do talk to him a lot" Violet grinned.

"Shut up, he has nice friends is all," Joan reasoned kicking Violet lightly under the table. Violet just giggled and continued to wolf down her mystery meat.

❦

As Joan and Violet ventured outside, they were quickly joined by none other than Charlie Dalton.

"Guys, come check this out!" he said enthusiastically. He slung his arm over Joan's shoulder and she quickly grabbed Violet's hand. Charlie steered them towards the group of boys who were walking purposefully down the stairs.

Once they intercepted the group, Charlie took the book out of Neil's hands and held it in Joan's face. "Check this out! It's Mr. Keating! Captain of the soccer team, editor of the school annual, Cambridge bound, Thigh man, and the Dead Poets Society."

Joan took the annual into her own hands and studied the picture.

"Wow, he was very accomplished," Violet admired.

"Wait a minute, what's the Dead Poets Society?" Joan looked up at the faces of the boys inquisitively.

"That's what we're going to go figure out right now. Come on, let's go," Neil said excitedly. He held out his hands, non-verbally requesting the book back. She handed it to him and followed the group towards Mr. Keating.

"Mr. Keating?" Neil called from the front of the pack, but Mr. Keating didn't respond. "Mr. Keating? Sir?" Still it was to no avail.

"Try Oh Captain, My Captain," Joan suggested. Neil smiled and nodded.

"Oh Captain, My Captain!" he shouted.

At that, the captain immediately turned around.

"Gentleman, ladies," he acknowledged.

"We were just looking in your old annual," Neil said, handing Keating the leather book.

Keating took it into his hands carefully. As his eyes scanned over the page he brought his hand up to his face, whether it was in embarrassment or nostalgia, Joan couldn't tell.

"Oh my god. No, that's not me," he joked, looking back at the students. "Stanely 'The Tool' Wilson." Keating grinned, crouching down as he continued to look at the faces of his past. "God."

Neil crouched down next to Keating, "What is the Dead Poets Society?" Neil asked.

"I doubt the present administration would look too fondly upon that," Mr. Keating smiled.

"Why?" Neil was completely overtaken by curiosity now, if he hadn't been before. "What was it?"

"Now, can you keep a secret?"

"Sure," Neil nodded as he leaned closer. Then everyone else crouched down or leaned in, eager to hear Keating's secret.

"The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase from Thoreau that we'd invoke at the beginning of each meeting. You see we'd gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley; the biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment, we'd let poetry work its magic," Keating said it with such passion that Joan couldn't help but want to know more. Hearing him speak this way made her yearn to be a part of something that she could feel strongly and deeply about.

"You mean... it was just a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?" Knox asked skeptically.

"No, Mr. Overstreet, it wasn't just 'guys', we weren't a Greek organization, we were romantics. We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created. Not a bad way to spend an evening eh?" Everyone chuckled lightly. It didn't sound bad at all. Joan looked pensively at the river behind Keating. How can I do something like that? Something so simple yet so powerful? Being cooped up like a prisoner at Hell-ton for so many years seemed to leave a cavity in her heart that she hadn't even noticed until now.

"Thank you Mr. Perry for this trip down amnesia lane. Burn that, especially my picture." With that, Keating stood up and strolled away while whistling a melodic tune.

After everyone else stood and laughed at Keating's final request, Neil stayed still. He gazed off in front of him like Joan had just seconds ago. His eyes seemed to be penetrating reality, looking at something beyond the blue.

"Dead Poets Society," he repeated.

"What?" Cameron questioned. Just then the awful bell rang, beckoning everyone back into the gates of Hell.

"I say we go tonight," Neil announced. He stood tall and with purpose, he certainly had a talent for getting people to listen to him.

"Tonight?" Charlie clarified.

"Wait a minute," Cameron said uneasily.

"Everybody in?" Neil looked at each individual square in the eyes.

"Where's this cave he's talking about?" Pitts too, seemed reluctant.

Neil nearly cut him off, "It's beyond the stream. I know where it is."

"That's miles," Pitts groaned.

"Sounds boring to me," Cameron stated. The group began to walk back to the school.

"Don't come," Charlie snapped. Joan laughed quietly at his response, never wanting to give Charlie the satisfaction. Watching Cameron and Charlie bicker was probably one of the funniest things that happened at Hell-ton, and luckily it happened regularly.

"Do you know how many demerits we're talking Dalton?" Cameron asked rhetorically.

"So don't come, please," Charlie said, looking back at Cameron in annoyance.

Cameron got defensive, "Look all I'm saying is that we have to be careful."

"No shit, Sherlock," Charlie retorted sarcastically. Joan laughed again, louder this time, and received a glare from Cameron, which only fuelled her laughter. Charlie looked over and smiled at Joan.

Hager's barking split the air, "You there, hurry up!"

Neil turned around abruptly to face the group, "All right, who's in?" He cocked an eyebrow, challenging everyone to join him.

"Oh, come on Neil! Hager's right-" Cameron argued.

"Forget Hager, no. Who's in?"

"I'm in," Charlie said first. He looked daringly at the rest of the group.

"Hell yeah," Joan agreed, grinning widely. This was exactly what she'd wanted, the chance to be a part of something real.

"I'm warning you, move," Hager yelled from the doors.

Cameron looked around anxiously before muttering, "Me too."

"I don't know, Neil," Pitts said apprehensively, pushing past the group towards Mr. Hager.

"What? Pitts-" Neil urged.

"Pittsie, come on!" Charlie said.

"His grades are hurting, Charlie," Meeks said, jumping to Pitts' defence.

"You can help him Meeks," Neil suggested.

"What is this, a midnight study group?" Pitts asked cynically.

"Forget it, Pitts, you're coming. Meeks, are your grades hurting too?" Neil looked to the bespectacled ginger.

Meeks looked to Violet who smiled warmly at him. "I'll try anything once," he said.

"Except sex," Charlie laughed.

"There you go again," Joan commented.

"Ha ha ha," Meeks said, blushing while everyone laughed around him. "Violet, you coming?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll come," Violet smiled, clearly touched that she was asked to be a part of something. Joan grinned and patted her shoulder as they rushed to not be late.

"I mean as long as we're careful," Cameron said.

"What about you, Knox?" Charlie asked. Everyone hurried into the building except for Charlie and Knox, but they could hear Charlie shouting through the door.

"I don't know Charlie," Knox hesitated.

"Come on Knox, it'll help you get Chris," Charlie smirked, feeding on Knox's weak spot.

"Yeah? How?" Knox was intrigued.

"Women swoon," Charlie laughed, running into the building.

Knox chased after him desperately, "Why do they swoon? Charlie, tell me why they swoon. Charlie!"

Charlie rushed up to join the rest of the group, walking quickly before Knox jumped on his shoulders.

"How do they swoon?" he asked again, this time almost demanding an answer as Charlie laughed.

Before walking into her next block, Joan noticed that Todd hadn't said anything. She felt a little sorry for the kid and gently tapped his shoulder.

"You coming?" she asked him. He simply shook his head and turned away. Joan decided not to press him, he seemed anxious enough already.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
❪ ⋆࿐໋ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒎. ❫

Hey everyone! Things are finally
getting started, the Dead Poets
Society has been rediscovered.
I hope everyone is in a good
headspace right now with COVID
and all, you are all beautiful people
and deserve to feel that way.