soon came the dreaded due date of the oral poetry assignment. celia nervously tapped her feet under her desk as she looked over at neil, who was turned in his seat to talk to meeks. she didn't really know why such a simple assignment scared her so much, but she was anxious about stuttering over her words when speaking in front of the group.
"miss keating." her father said, making her look up from her previous blank stare into space. "the floor is yours."
celia uncomfortably cleared her throat as she felt everyone's eyes settle on her. with a glance over at neil, who was giving her an encouraging smile, she stood from her seat, clutching her paper so hard she feared it would crumble.
"'when i make my way to the edge of the pillar, i can feel the breeze breathing sweet whispers through my hair. and when i close my eyes, at the edge, i can see it. i can see my feet leaving the ground as my wings catch onto the wind. i am flying. it feels so real. but, when i open my eyes, i find that i'm not soaring. my mind has betrayed me once more. my feet remain on the solid ground. what if i fall? i can't risk the pain. i can't risk the loss. all i can think is 'what if i fall? what if i fall?'. then, breaking the silence of my thoughts, i hear the small echo of a voice, ever persistent. 'but what if you fly?'"
the class clapped, and celia looked up, almost having forgotten that she was reading to an audience. she met neil's gaze, and was flustered by the look of pure adoration etched onto his face.
"excellent, miss keating." her father praised, a proud smile on his face. "excellent. mr. perry, you're up."
neil seemed pulled out of a love struck trance as he stood, nearly tripping over his own feet as he unfolded his paper. "'i never set out to write about you. but your name fits each sentence like a perfect rhyme. your smile fits through each pose and through my mind. my own allegory is hidden within my smiles and stares, in hopes that one day i could meet you there. you are poetry personified, and i will recite you until the day i die'"
as he finished speaking, he looked up at celia, blushing as he focused on her smile.
"'to chris.'" knox read when it was his turn. charlie, from behind celia, looked up, grinning. this was about to be good. "i see a sweetness in her smile. bright light shines from her eyes. but life is complete; contentment is mine, just knowing that..." he stuttered as he heard the students begin to snicker, "just knowing that she's alive." defeated, he crumpled his poem as he walked back to his desk. "sorry, captain." he apologized. "it's stupid."
keating shook his head. "no, no. it's not stupid. it's a good effort. it touched on one of the major themes, love. a major theme not only in poetry, but life. what knox has done," he explained, "demonstrates an important point, not only in writing poetry, but in every endeavor. that is, deal with the important things in life-- love and beauty among them."
he began to pace in the front of the class. "and don't limit poetry to the word. poetry can be found in music, a photograph, in the way a meal is prepared-- anything with the stuff of revelation in it. it can exist in the most everyday things, but it must never, never, be ordinary. by all means, write about the sky or a girl's smile. but, when you do, let your poetry conjure up salvation day, doomsday, any day. i don't care, as long as it enlightens us, thrills us, and-- if it's inspired-- makes us feel a bit immortal."
"o captain, my captain," charlie called, "is there poetry in math?"
the class began to chuckle, but keating was serious as he nodded. "absolutely, mr dalton! there is elegance in mathematics. if everyone wrote poetry, the planet would starve, for god's sake. but there must be poetry. and we must stop to notice it in even the simplest acts of living, or we will have wasted much of what life has to offer. now, mr. hopkins, you were laughing at mr overstreet's poem. you're up."
the boy slowly walked to the front of the class, unfolding his paper. "'the cat sat on the mat.'"
celia snorted out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hands a little too late. charlie began to laugh too, making the two in the back of the room the beginning of a laughing fit.
"congratulations, mr. hopkins." keating said. "yours is the first poem to ever have a negative score on the pritchard scale." the entire class had now erupted into the laughter they'd been trying to hold in. "we're not laughing at you, we're laughing near you." the teacher promised hopkins. "i don't mind that your poem had a simple theme. sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things, like a cat, or a flower or rain. you see, poetry can come from anything with the stuff of revelation in it. just don't let your poems be ordinary. now, who's next?"
he then approached todd's desk.
"mr. anderson, i see you sitting there in agony. come on, todd, step up. let's put you out of your misery."
the boy shook his head. "i, i didn't do it. i didn't write a poem."
"mr. anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. isn't that right, todd? isn't that your worst fear? well, think you're wrong. i think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal."
he moved to the chalkboard at the front of the room and gean to write. "'i sound my barbaric... yawp... over the rooftops of the world.'" he wrote. "w. w. uncle walt again. now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. now, todd, i would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric 'yawp.' come on." he said when the boy didn't move. "you can't yawp sitting down. let's go. come on. up."
todd reluctantly stood, following keating to the front. "yawp." he said lamely.
"come on, louder."
"yawp." not much better.
"no, that's a mouse. come on. louder."
"yawp." still sad.
"oh, good god, boy. yell like a man!"
"yawp!" todd suddenly shouted.
"there it is." keating smiled. "you see, you have a barbarian in you, after all." he stopped todd from returning to his seat, turning him back to look at the photo of walt whitman that hung proudly on the wall. "the picture of uncle walt up there. what does he remind you of? don't think. answer. go on."
"a.. a madman." todd threw out.
"what kind of madman?" the teacher pressed. "don't think about it. just answer again."
"a c-crazy madman."
keating shook his head. "no, you can do better than that. free up your mind. use your imagination. say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it's total gibberish. go on, go on."
"uh, uh, a sweaty-toothed madman."
"good god, boy, there's a poet in you, after all. there, close your eyes. close your eyes. close 'em. now, describe what you see." he put his hands over todd's eyes.
"uh, i-i close my eyes."
"yes?"
"uh, and this image floats beside me."
"a sweaty-toothed madman?"
todd nodded. "a sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain."
"oh, that's excellent. now, give him action. make him do something."
"h-his hands reach out and choke me." keating removed his hands, but todd kept his eyes closed. "and, and all the time he's mumbling."
"what's he mumbling?"
he thought for a moment "m-mumbling, truth. truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."
the sound of students laughing made todd open his eyes, but the teacher quickly gestured for him to close them again. "forget them, forget them." he encouraged. "stay with the blanket. tell me about that blanket."
todd stuttered. "you.. you push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. you kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. from the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream." he opened his eyes.
celia looked at him in awe. after a few moments of silence, she let out a small woop, clapping her hands. the entire class then joined in, all cheering for him.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"i went to the woods because i wished to live deliberately." the group all spoke together. "i wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life."
"god," knox interrupted, "i want to suck all the marrow out of chris! i'm so in love, i feel like i'm going to die!" the group all collectively groaned at his outburst. "but she's in love with this moron! what would the dead poets say about this?" he dropped his head into his hands.
neil and celia walked into the cave then, both entirely late. "at least you know what you want." charlie mumbled. "see, neil, neil here, he wants to act. and knox, you know you want chris."
"want her? i need her, charlie." knox groaned, falling onto his back.
"meeks," charlie continued, "you're the brain here. what do the dead poets say about somebody like me?"
"the romantics were passionate experimentals, charles." meeks said, using his full name for effect. "they dabbled in many things before settling, if they ever did."
"not like there are many places to be experimental at welton." pitts pointed out.
charlie thought about this observation for a second before he smiled. "i hereby declare this the charles dalton cave for passionate experimentation!" he announced. "carpe cavem, boys! seize the cave!"
"that sounds disgusting." celia replied as he turned to her, noticing her and neil's presence for the first time.
"where've you two been?" charlie asked, receiving shrugs from the two.
the truth was that they'd been at the library for a few hours reading in the bay window. after a while, neil had leaned over and pressed an innocent kiss on her cheek, making her flush.
the kisses were rare for them, since they were still crossing the daunting bridge between friends and lovers. but, neil was managing to find ways to sneak them in on occasion, such as then.
"i know we've.. we've only been doing these little.. the, uh.. the dates.. for a little over a week." he'd said after a bit more reading, holding onto her hand. "but, i was wondering.. if you'd maybe want.. to risk the jump with me?"
"hm?"
"your poem. jumping into something like a relationship is scary." he admitted. "but i don't think we'll fall. i won't let us. i think we have the potential to fly, i really do. and i want to try with you, if you'll have me."
celia hadn't expected him to put that much thought into her poem. if she was being honest, she wasn't entirely sure he'd even catch on to what she was talking about in it; the fear of new relationships. she'd put thought into neil's, however, and had thought about how eager and blissful he seemed to be about them.
"i would love to," her smile smirked at the edges, "but you're going to have to be more specific than that." she teased. she wanted to hear him say the words.
"would you.. celia.. care to be my girlfriend?"
the girl pretended to think about it for a moment before laughing, nodding her head. "yes, neil, i would love to be your girlfriend." she replied, smiling at him. they remained sitting across from each other on the small window. "but, this means we'll have to do the scariest thing possible."
neil laughed. "and what's that?"
"tell my dad."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
neil had wanted to rip off the bandaid. he decided that they should go straight from the library to her father's office to tell him about their relationship, which had been the real reason that they'd been so late to the cave meeting. "hey, dad." celia had said, gently tapping her knuckles on the door frame.
"celia! and mr. perry." he smiled at the two, inviting them into the office.. or bedroom. "excellent work in class today, both of you. what brings you two here?"
they turned to look at each other before celia sat down, looking at her father. "we.. we wanted to tell you something."
keating looked puzzled as he took off his glasses. "by all means." he said, clearly paying attention now.
"we, um.." neil began.
"we're dating." she finished. "and neil asked me today to be his girlfriend, and i said yes."
the man didn't seem shocked at all, which shocked the two teenagers. "oh, believe me, i knew."
"what?" his daughter asked, uncrossing her legs and nearly dropping the cup of tea that he'd handed to her. "how did you know?"
"it was painfully obvious." he replied, laughing at her dumbfounded expression. "i, too, am a romantic. i can see when two people love each other. and your poems today.. oh, you should've seen how you looked at each other as if the other had hung the stars." he smiled as they both blushed. "if you're here to ask for my blessing, you already have it."
neil politely held out his hand for keating to shake. "thank you, sir." the two looked into each others' eyes, and it seemed as if a silent interaction happened before neil stepped away.
the teacher hugged his daughter then, smiling. "now, you two get out of here, i have some paperwork to sort through."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
and so, neil and celia were ridiculously late to the meeting. on their way out of keating's office, they'd noticed a used and discarded lamp, which neil had picked up and now carried into the cave.
"friend, scholar, welton men." neil said, ignoring charlie's previous question about where they'd been.
meeks gestured to the lamp. "what is that, neil?"
"duh." pitts said. "it's a lamp, meeks."
neil then took the lampshade off, revealing a carving shaped like a man on the base. "no." he said to pitts. "this is the god of the cave."
"the god of the cave." meeks repeated, nodding his head in amusement.
charlie then began playing miscellaneous notes on his saxophone, which celia hadn't noticed until then was strapped around his neck. "what do you say we start this meeting?" he stood, clearing his throat. "gentlemen, 'poetrusic' by charles dalton."
"oh, no." meeks said, making celia laugh. she sat down at her usual spot by neil, watching as charlie began to play erratic notes on his instrument.
"laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling." charlie spoke dramatically. "gotta do more. gotta be more." he played more. "chaos screaming, chaos dreaming. gotta do more! gotta be more!" he then played what sounded like an actual song, finishing his performance.
"wow!" meeks praised, clapping.
pitts laughed. "that was nice. that was great. where did you learn to play like that?"
"my parents made me take the clarinet for years." he explained.
cameron smiled. "i love the clarinet."
"i hated it." charlie replied instantly. "the saxophone.. the saxophone is more sonorous."
"vocabulary." meeks marveled sarcastically.
"sexophone?" celia asked, watching as charlie nodded his head.
"see, ceil, you get me." he said.
knox, who had been quiet since his previous outburst, suddenly jumped up. "i can't take it anymore." he said. "if i don't have chris, i'm gonna kill myself."
charlie, as well as everyone else, sent him a surprised look. "knoxious, you've gotta calm down."
"no, charlie." the boy shook his head. "that's just my problem. i've been calm all my life. i have to do something." he stood and began to exit the cave.
"where are you going?" neil asked, turning to look at him.
"what are you gonna do?" celia added.
"i'm gonna call her." he replied simply, chuckling like a giddy maniac. the others immediately made to grab their coats before following him, charlie playing tunes on his saxophone the whole way.
"hello?" chris spoke on the other end of the line when knox called her.
embarrassed, he immediately hung up the phone, turning back to the boys (and celia) who were all standing around him. "she's gonna hate me." he worried. "the danburrys will hate me. my parents will kill me." no one said anything, just looking at him silently. "all right, goddamn it. you're right." he said, even though none of them had spoken. "'carpe diem.' even if it kills me." he turned back to the payphone, putting in another coin.
"hello?"
knox gulped. "hello, chris?" he then smiled. "hi. this is knox overstreet." he looked back to the boys. "she's glad i called." he mouthed. the group leaned in as chris began to talk about something, though none of them could hear her. "would i like to come to a party?" knox restated, looking to them for help.
"yes." charlie, who was closest to him, said. "say yes."
"well, sure." knox said, looking over to his friend. "okay, great. i-i'll be there, chris. friday night at the danburrys'. o-okay. thank you. thank you. i'll see you. bye." he hung up the phone, instantly moving to celebrate with charlie. "yawp! can you believe it? she was gonna call me! she invited me to a party with her."
charlie didn't seem impressed. "at chet danburry's house." he reminded him.
"yeah."
"well?"
"so?"
charlie gave him a dumbfounded look. "so, you don't really think she means you're going with her?"
knox blinked. "well, of course not, charlie. but that's not the point. that's not the point at all."
"what is the point?"
"the point, charlie, is, uh-"
"yeah?"
"that she was thinking about me. i've only met her once, and already she's thinking about me. damn it. it's gonna happen, guys. i feel it. she is going to be mine. carpe. carpe!" knox dramatically flipped his scarf around his neck as he walked away, leaving the group to laugh at his eagerness.
"so, what made you two so late?" charlie asked again, turning to neil and celia.
the boy shrugged his shoulders. "we were hanging out."
charlie sent him a look. "you're both too good at time management to just.. be late. what were you doing?"
"we were telling the captain.. we told him that we're a couple."
"oh ho ho!" charlie smiled, patting neil on the back. "so you finally asked her?"
"she's right here." celia said.
the boy turned back to her. "okay, so did he finally ask you?"
celia laughed. "you are potentially one of the most nosy people i've ever met." she said, not answering his question. she and neil both walked away then, leaving charlie to stand by himself, confused.
"well? did he?"