Gotta Be More(Dead Poets Society)

To Think of Time

Welton, Vermont. 1960.

"What are you two blockheads doing?" I asked, "We're going to be late for math." Pitts and Meeks glared up at me from their mess of wires spread out all over the table. 

"Yeah, and what are you going to do if you get caught?" Sneered Cameron as he walked by with his stack of books.

The three of us rolled our eyes in unison. "It's just a radio." I mumbled. 

"Yeah and I'm not the one who broke it." Pitts mumbled even quieter.

"Well, you're not wrong." Said Meeks, as Pitts silently began to put away the radio, "We are going to be late for class." Sometimes I wondered if those boys where talking telepathically. As we shuffled down the hallway with our ridiculous hoard of books, Neil and Charlie caught up to us. "Morning, fools." Greeted Neil in his dramatic way, then interrupted before I could reply, "So listen, the meeting has to be moved to tonight because Knox told me he has a date tomorrow."

"Well since when does Knox set the calendar?" Asked Charlie. 

"Come on, Char... I mean Nuwanda."

"Thank you, was that so hard? Nobody tries to remember my name around here."

"Sorry, Nuwanda..." We all mumbled. 

"Fine, tonight it is." Sighed Pitts. "But I still expect everyone at the study session today."

"Wouldn't miss it." I sighed, "Math is gonna be the end of me."

"Sounds like (y/n) needs to lighten u- ow, what?" Complained Neil as Meeks elbowed him. 

"Nolan's coming." Meeks whispered, and we all scattered like mice to get to class.   

"Hey," Pitts whispered to me, "You have chemistry with Neil next class, right?"

"Yeah why?"

"I was thinking about this for the next meeting..." he slid me a few crumpled sheets of paper under the desk, "If you could read it, and then give it to Neil?"

I smiled, "Sure." 

"I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!" Neil read aloud. "This is great! Good job, Pitts... next class we'll tell him that we have to read this tonight."

"You bet. Uncle Walt strikes again." I chuckled as I copied off of Neil's chemistry notes. 

"Well hurry up with that!" He practically pulled me out of my chair and we rushed out into the hall towards Mr. Keating's classroom. "Oh good, Todd!" He waved his hands in the air, "Hey, Todd! Over here!"

"Shh!" Todd stared at us with anxious eyes. 

"Did you do the assignment?" I asked him. 

"No, I forgot. So I'm just going to turn in the first chapter of my novel and hope that Keating likes it just as well."

"Would you two get in here?" Interrupted Meeks, peering around the door. "Especially you, (y/n), if you care so much about being on time."

"Yeah, yeah." I appeased Meeks by taking my seat between him and Pitts, just before Keating appeared at his desk. 

"Good morning." He greeted us. 

"Good morning, Captain!" Most of the students roared back. 

"Who is ready to read from their assignment that is due today? I see quite a few nervous faces..."

A few people snickered, and, to no one's surprise, Neil's hand shot up. 

"Yes, Mr. Perry."

"You are not thrown to the winds... you gather certainly and safely around yourself, yourself! Yourself! Yourself forever and ever!" 

I wondered how Neil could commit a line to poetry to memory so quickly. It looked like he had sucked it in through his nose rather than read it with his eyes.  

"Ah." Keating remarked, "To think of time." He turned to the chalkboard and wrote the out the name, with a W.W. underneath. "Unfortunately, this is not a Perry original, as suggested by the assignment. These are the words of Walt Whitman."

"So I guess he likes it?" Pitts leaned over and whispered to me. 

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Looks to be the case."

He smiled his shy smile. "Great."

"You have good taste, Pitts, really." 

He scoffed, "Now I didn't say that."

"I know, I did." 

Late that afternoon, we gathered around a table in the dorm with our math books and the radio. "I still can't hear anything!" Said Meeks, adjusting the position yet again. 

"Give it a rest, Meeks." Pitts sighed. 

"We almost had it this morning." He stated, seeming confused.

"Whatever, just..."

Meeks and I stared at him. "Okay, look." He pulled out a paper from his bag and slid it across the table. "This is my last history grade."

"Ouch." Meeks winced. 

"Yeah, tell me about it." Pitts huffed. 

"Oh... come on, Pitts." I shrugged. "You help me with math just about every night, I'll help you with history."

"What?" He raised his eyebrows. "What's your grade?"

I produced my last history test from my bag, showing the red letter A. He nodded, seeming impressed. "Alright, you're on."

I heard a feet thumping loudly and the song of bongo drums. 

"Oh, Nuwanda, not again..." I complained, staring at the red paint on his chest.

"(y/n), not even you can stop....verility!" The boys all broke into chatter, speaking over each other in a way that made the conversation useless. 

All was silent except the creaking floorboards as we snuck out that foggy night. Although it was Vermont in February, I wasn't shivering quite as much as I thought I would. Arriving at the familiar and welcoming cave, I shrugged out of my coat and threw a couple of candy bars onto the spot on the ground where we always did. Pitts yawned and threw down some matches. 

"That's not food, Pittsie." Nuwanda pointed out. 

"We need matches to smoke, don't we?"

"Eh." Nuwanda waved dismissively and took a seat near the back of the cave. 

"Alright, alright." Neil climbed on the rock we were using like a soap box. "Here's what you all came here for... brought to you tonight by Gerard Pitts and Walt Whitman, come on up here Pitts."

"Well, as Mr. Keating said," Pitts took a puff from one of our pipes, "This is To Think of Time."

The rest of us listened to him carefully , breathing smoke into the air. 

"The dull nights are over, the dull days also?" Quoted Nuwanda when he was finished. "Boy I wish that were true."

"Hey, speak for yourself." Said Knox. "I'm hoping to be 'fulfilled' tomorrow night." 

"Oh, whatever." 

I heard a few lines on conversation before starting to drift off to sleep. 

"y/n." I woke up to Pitts shaking me by the shoulder. "Come on, it's late." I could tell by the dark circles under his eyes. 

"Aw, shit..." I rubbed my head and climbed to my feet. Meeks's flashlight illuminated the snowy trail of footprints that we followed back.