CHAPTER ELEVEN

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Lilith woke up to Azalea hovering over her.

"Motherfu-"

"Oh good, you're awake. I need your help."

Lilith grumbled and rolled out of bed onto the floor. She couldn't help but smile as she thought of yesterday's events. The kiss, more specifically.

"When you're finished daydreaming about Charlie, could you help me with my own love life?" Azalea asked.

"Yeah, sure what's up?"

Azalea blushed and began playing nervously with her fingers.

"I have a date."

"Meeks finally grew a pair and asked you, didn't he?" Lilith teased, throwing her roommate her tie.

"Yes. Yes he did, and now I'm freaking out."

"You have nothing to be worried about," Lilith assured the fidgeting girl. "Meeks is adorable, he wouldn't hurt a fly."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Azalea muttered, quiet enough Lilith couldn't hear her.

A sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Coming!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

As usual, the day was monotonous and dull.

Until the bell rang. However, this was a good thing. The seniors had English today.

Midway through the class. Mr. Keating clambered to the top of his desk, staring down at all his beloved students.

"Why do I stand up here?"

Lilith could sense Charlie's sarcastic comment before it had left his mouth.

"To feel taller."

The class laughed.

"No! Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. You see, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourself. Come on. Come on!"

To no one's surprise, Neil and Charlie were the first to stand up, followed by Camille, then Lilith. Slowly the rest formed a line.

Neil looked out over the desks and saw tradition. Conformity. He despised the way no one was willing to admit Welton's standards, while a nice idea, were restricting and outdated.

Charlie saw opportunity. Sure, his other classes might be full of shit, but this one wasn't. The idea of someone listening to his own beliefs, not the ones force-fed by the school, was almost daunting. Luckily, Charlie was not an easily daunted soul.

Mr. Keating continued to speak as Neil and Charlie hopped down and were replaced with Lilith and Camille.

"Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. Even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try! Now, when you read, don't just consider what the author thinks. Consider what you think. Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Don't be resigned to that. Break out!"

Lilith and Charlie stood shoulder to shoulder, watching their peers ascend the desk.

"They're afraid to look," Lilith muttered, looking interested.

As if he had read her mind, Mr. Keating spoke again.

"Don't just walk off the edge like lemmings. Look around you."

The bell rang again, signaling the end of class. Only a few boys had yet to stand upon the desk, Todd among them.

"Now, in addition to your essays, I would like you to compose a poem of your own, an original work."

The class let out a loud groan of misery.

Keating merely flicked the lights on and off, mocking their pain as he exited the classroom.

"That's right! You have to deliver it aloud in front of the class on Monday. Bonne chance, gentlemen and ladies."

Todd was now standing on the desk, looking around in both fright and curiosity. Mr. Keating poked his head back in the classroom.

"Mr. Anderson? Don't think that I don't know that this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole."

And with that, he flicked off the lights, leaving Todd to jump off the desk amidst laughter and darkness. He hated being singled out. Hated it.

Neil caught up to him as he started down the hallway.

"Got any ideas for your poem yet Todd?"

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh come on, I know you're keeping something magical locked up in that mind of yours," Neil teased, shoving him lightly.

Todd's shoulder tingled where Neil's hand had brushed it.








A/N 1/1/22

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