𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 • Neil Perry

Chapter 2

PINCHING at the tips of her new white gloves had turned into a habit very quickly for Milly. She tried not to, but after spotting every member of the Dead Poets Society amongst three hundred boys in the same uniform, all accompanied by their parents, she could hardly breathe. Even sitting next to Steven is a hard pill to swallow in itself.

It had been no longer than an hour since breakfast passed, so controlling her temperament took every bit of will power in her system.

The stone chapel seemed smaller behind a cinema or television screen. The bagpipes that played along the aisle seemed so much louder from the inside of its walls; she could practically feel the tune in her chest.

The moment Headmaster Gale Nolan took the podium, Milly gave herself silent permission to tune out. She had heard the spiel before.

Suddenly the cotton of her gloves had become the most interesting thing in the world.

"Ladies and gentlemen... Boys... The light of knowledge," he declares dramatically.

The ceremony continued respectively, and upon her mother's prompting, Milly contributed to the applause every now and again. Truth be told, without the elbow nudges, her ears wouldn't have heard so much as a bomb strike.

I'm at the beginning, Milly thinks to herself. And that very thought played on a continuous loop in her mind, until the very moment she was outside again. Parents bid their sons farewell, and Milly looked for cameras as if she was on The Truman Show.

A part of her, the hopeful part, kept wanting this all to be an elaborate prank—a ruse if you will. Milly wanted Ashton Kutcher to jump scare her into the next century.

But what she wanted didn't matter. She knew that. She also knew exactly what she stepped into the moment she let her 'mother' close that window. This was all just a matter of acceptance and perseverance.

"And you have all of your meds?" Mrs Meeks presses her son. He silently accepted as she fixed his collar constantly and brushed at his hair with her fingers.

His father, on the other hand, shook hands and greeted fellow gentleman.

"Yes," Steven says testily.

"Even the aspirin?"

"Yes."

"Because you know how you can get," Mrs Meeks continues. "Even the ointment might not be enough for that sorry rash you get on your neck sometimes—"

"Yes, yes!" Steven reached his boiling point, moving away his mother's hand from his neck. "I have everything. You guys are freed from the shackles of parenting."

"Maybe I don't want to be," his mother frowns, pinching his cheek.

"You should have thought about that before you sent me to boarding school," Steven retorts sarcastically.

"The funny-bone sticks. Let's hope there are no dogs around, ah," Mr Meeks clawed his son's shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "You have a productive year ahead of you. Make the most of it."

"Don't I always?"

"He means the radio," Milly interjects. She was glad to not be on the receiving end of an explanation for once. "Take it easy on it."

"I don't mock your hobbies, you don't mock mine. Capeesh?" Steven then bent down to pick up two of his suitcases. "Au revoir." And he was turning around and heading for the dormitories.

"Get his other suitcase, Jerry," Mrs Meeks instructs.

"I'm on it," Mr Meeks replies. "I'll see you by the car."