CHAPTER SIX!
( A REAL POEM. )
"IN A MEAN abode in the shanking road, lived a man named William Bloat. Now, he had a wife, the plague of his life, who continually got his goat. And one day at dawn, with her nightshift on, he slit her bloody throat." Pitts read. Chuckles filled the cave at this.
"Oh, and it gets worse," Pitts said.
"You want to hear a real poem?" Charlie smirked, handing you his cigarette.
Meeks got up and tried to hand Charlie the book.
"No, no get this outta here."
"What, did you bring one?" Meeks asked.
"You memorized a poem?" Neil looked surprised.
"I didn't memorize a poem. Move up," Charlie told Neil as he ushered him off the rock. "Ladies you may want to look away for this one."
Your gaze flitted to Violet, but neither of you looked away from Charlie completely. You were too curious.
"An original piece by Charlie Dalton," Meeks laughed.
"An original piece," Knox repeated.
"You know this is history, right? This is history," Neil said.
Charlie cleared his throat as he took centre stage. He pulled a magazine page out of his pocket and slowly unfolded it to reveal a naked woman. He had ripped it straight out of a Playboy.
"Oh my god," you couldn't help but laugh. You looked from Charlie to Violet who was staring at the picture looking a little disgusted, but when she met your gaze she laughed as well. The boys all gawked at the photo in amazement.
"Oh, wow," Meeks muttered as everyone laughed.
"Where did you get that?" Cameron asked.
"Teach me to love? Go teach thyself more wit. I, chief professor, am of it. The god of love, if such thing there, may learn to love from me," Charlie read rhythmically.
"Wow! Did you write that?" Neil asked, impressed.
"Abraham Cowley," You and Charlie said in unison. He smiled and winked at you before giving the stage back to Neil. He took a seat next to you and dramatically put the page back in his coat.
"You're ridiculous," you chuckled, handing him his cigarette back. He took an exaggerated drag and blew the smoke in your face.
"Maybe, but you gotta admit, that was pretty good," he winked again.
You laughed but nodded, "Yes, it was."
"Alfred Lord Tennyson. Come my friends,'Tis not too late to seek a newer world, for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset. And though we are not now that strength which in old days, Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;--One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Neil read from the book, moving his flashlight as he read.
"Alright Violet, you're up!" Meeks smiled, patting her shoulder. She looked around hesitantly before standing up and walking to the centre. She flipped through the poem book until she landed on one that caught her eye.
"The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies, With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies, When love is done." Violet spoke in a clear and melodic voice. You were impressed. You pondered her poem for a moment and a few people clapped for her. "Oh, uh Francis William Bourdillon," she added.
"That was really good," you said. She smiled at you before sitting back down.
"Alright, who's next?" Charlie inquired, scanning the faces in the room before turning to you. "Y/N, your turn!"
"Well..."
You looked at him in slight annoyance, you didn't really like public speaking. With everyone's attention on you specifically, you got anxious. However, you had brought a poem with you. Charlie picked up on your apprehension and rubbed your arm gently.
"You got it, you'll do great," he whispered. He smiled at you, genuinely, it wasn't out of pride or mischief for once. You nodded and stood up.
"Alright, alright."
"Yes! Go Y/N," Neil cheered.
"You want the book?" Violet asked.
"No, I brought one," you held up a ripped out page. You'd brought it from one of your own poetry books.
You fumbled with the page for a second before unfolding it. You cleared your throat and began to speak.
"We never know how high we are, Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite, Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the cubits warp, For fear to be a king." With each line you gained more confidence. You spoke until the words ran out and you were forced to stop, though something in your heart longed to keep going. You wished the poem were infinite. "Emily Dickinson."
The uncomfortable feeling of eyes on you returned and you rushed back to your seat. You heard people clapping but wished they would just move on, your empowerment already fading. You sighed, you wished you could feel as bold as you did when reading poetry all the time.
"Told you. That was great," Charlie said once you sat down.
You thanked him sheepishly and looked you at your hands which were twiddling with the poem page. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. You gazed back at Charlie who was already staring at you with his brown eyes. You leaned into him slightly, enjoying the comfort of his hold.
Meeks stepped up and opened the book. He began chanting a poem rhythmically. "Then I had religion, then I had a vision. I could not turn from their revel derision. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black-"
"Meeks, Meeks," Charlie said, adding to the chant.
"...cutting through the forest with a golden track. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track."
One by one people rose to their feet. Knox picked up a tin container and started hitting it like a drum. Everyone began making music with what was around them, sticks, combs, whatever they could find.
"Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track." Everyone joined in as they marched out of the cave, chanting the chorus as if it were the only words they knew.
You continued repeating it until you reached the line where the field and forest met. You reluctantly began your trek towards the school. Once you reached the point where you would have to part with the boys, you whispered solemn goodbyes. Charlie pulled you in for a tight hug, and you hugged back. He didn't let go until Knox called him up and he pulled back. He looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it.
"This was really fun," he murmured.
"I'm glad we did it," you agreed, knowing you should leave but not wanting to move your eyes from his. "Goodnight, Charlie," you finally said.
"Goodnight, Y/N. Oh, and goodnight Violet."
"Goodnight Romeo, I think Juliet and I better get going," she giggled, turning you towards the girls' staircase. You started up the stairs quietly.
"Oh shut up, that is not what's going on," you told her. Despite this, you couldn't help but turn back to look at Charlie once more. He hadn't moved.
You sneaked into your room and slowly shut the door. Once you were safely inside, you both let out a breath.
"I call bull shit," she smirked, repeating what you had told her when she denied liking Meeks.
"I'm serious, it's- it's not like that."
"Whatever you say, Juliet."
"Oh my god, do not start calling me that," you sent her your best attempt at a glare, which to your dismay, she only laughed breathily. "By the way, don't go thinking that you holding Meeks' hand went unnoticed," you warned.
"All right," she stared out the window pensively for a moment before continuing. "Well to change the subject, tonight was quite possibly the most fun I've ever had."
"It was, I'm so glad we did it. I feel like, I don't know, I just wish it wouldn't end."
"Me too," she stepped into bed as did you.
"I liked your poem, it was well said," you added.
"Well, I liked yours too. I didn't know you liked Dickinson. You should let me read that book you have sometime."
"Of course, it's the purple one on my desk. Emily Dickinson Collected Poems."
"Thanks, oh and one more thing. Do you think Meeks looked... uncomfortable... when I was holding his hand?" Violet queried.
"Not at all. The opposite really," you confirmed.
Violet let out a quiet laugh. "Goodnight, Y/N."
"Goodnight, Violet."
You got into a comfortable position and attempted to ease your mind into slumber. One thing kept you awake, and as much as you tried to deny it, it was Charlie. You tried to convince yourself that he wasn't anything to you, nothing but a friend. Something at the back of your head kept reminding you of the warmth of his embrace, and you couldn't silence it.
❪ ⋆࿐໋ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒎. ❫
AUTHOR'S NOTE.
Hi! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I really hope that you enjoyed reading it. It's currently almost 1:00 am where I live so I should probably get to bed (but let's be honest I'm not gonna). I don't have much to say except that I hope everyone is doing well. Thank you for reading and I'll see you next time!
- s.