WE ARE GOLDEN--DEAD POETS SOCIETY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Despite everyone's protests, Azalea was determined to attend classes the net day, hungover, and bruised as she was. 

"Lea, you're the smartest person in the school. You can miss one day of classes."

"No. I don't have a good enough excuse to skip."

Meeks threw Lilith an exasperated look. She shrugged sympathetically. 

"You have actually a very good excuse, Azalea."

"Excuse? For what?"

Charlie had appeared in the doorway to walk Lilith to breakfast.

"Excuse for not doing my calculus homework," Azalea lied smoothly. She did not want more people than necessary to know about last night's events.

Lilith rolled her eyes, and Meeks sighed as she and Charlie left.

"Lea-"

"You and I both know that if I tell anyone, they either won't believe me or tell me to deal with it. And frankly, I'm going to take the second option."

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

The day's classes passed in a blur until English. Mr. Keating selected Knox, Cameron, and Camille to walk around the courtyard, each at their own pace. 

"No grades at stake, just take a stroll," he instructed them.

Camille walked in front, taking slow easy steps. Cameron followed worriedly behind, while Knox seemed lost in a daydream.

Finally, their steps matched up to create a beat.

"There it is," Keating announced.

"I don't know what I've been told-"

The other students, who had begun to clap, responded back.

"I don't know what I've been told-"

"Doing poetry is old-"

"Doing poetry is old."

Mr. Keating began to walk beside Camille, matching his pace to hers. 

"Left, left, left-right-left. Left, left, left-right-left. Left, halt!"

They stopped their walk.

"Thank you, gentlemen and lady. If you noticed, everyone started off with their own stride, their own pace."

He began to walk quickly.

"Miss Vincent, taking her own sweet time, daydreaming of someone perhaps. Mr. Cameron, you could see him thinking, "Is this right? It might be right. It might be right. I know that. Maybe not. I don't know."

He changed his gait, walking with his hips forward.

"Mr. Overstreet, driven by deeper force. Yes, we know that."

Laughter rippled through the class.

"All right. Now, I didn't bring them up here to ridicule them. I brought them up here to illustrate the point of conformity: the difficulty in maintaining your own beliefs in the face of others. Now, those of you -- I see the look in your eyes like, "I would've walked differently." Well, ask yourselves why you were clapping. Now, we all have a great need for acceptance. But you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go, "That's baaaaad." Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Now, I want you to find your own walk right now. Your own way of striding, pacing. Any direction. Anything you want. Whether it's proud, whether it's silly, anything. Gentlemen, ladies, the courtyard is yours."

His class spread out around the courtyard. Hopkins and his friends began to walk around outrageously, bobbing their heads and wiggling their legs. 

"You don't have to perform, just do it for yourself," Keating called. He caught sight of Lilith and Charlie leaning against a pillar, the boy's arm around the girl's shoulder. 

"Will either of you be joining us?"

"Exercising the right not to walk," Charlie smirked.

"Thank you Mr. Dalton, Miss DuBarry. You just illustrated the point. Swim against the stream."