𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎

I told the others about what happened with Charlie. They were all just as confused as I was. I left out the part where Charlie had mentioned that went to a camp. Only he could give out that information because it was so personal. "I've never heard him act like that." Pitts said, looking to the other boys with concern.

"He's isolating himself." Meeks spoke up, making Rhonda smile.

"You could make a good psychologist, Meeks." She said to him, causing Meeks to turn red. This has become quite a habit of Rhonda's.

"I'm more interested in inventions." Meeks replied. "But thank you, though."

I looked to Rhonda, and she looked to me, letting out a little laugh. He was clueless, wasn't he? Or maybe he wasn't, and he didn't want to continue to be flirted with. "Yeah, no problem, sweetheart." Rhonda lit her cigarette and passed it around the room.

"If he didn't want his past, then why is he taking poetry? Isn't that odd?"  I asked, looking to Rhonda for answers.

"No." She paused, blowing out smoke from her nose. "Probably wants some sort of familiarity. Or maybe he just really likes poems."

I didn't know what to say. I wish I could apologize to Charlie and make him feel how I did. I was ecstatic to see him again. It felt like a dream come true. For a moment, he seemed to feel that way as well. He held my hand. He wanted to be with me. But then... he blew up. Thinking back, I had done that to him a bit. It's a miracle he didn't grow frustrated with me back then because we wouldn't be so close now.

He felt so close. He felt like I could reach out and touch him. Our happiness was sitting in front of us, but it was tired a string. He pulled it back, and everything I had the chance to reach forward to grab it. Maybe not, though? Maybe he wasn't the puppet master?

The next time I had poetry, I got there early and waited outside the classroom for him. I saw him approaching, and I got nervous. "Doll." He nodded at me.

"Dalton." I nodded back. I couldn't help but smile at him. He leaned toward me a bit so that the other students wouldn't be able to hear.

"I'm sorry." He said, quick with his words. "I lost my cool last week." He looked me in the eyes. They were shimmering with some sort of forgotten feeling. There was something about him that weighed him down, causing him to isolate. To crawl inside himself. Maybe we were more alike than I had initially thought.

"The boys and my roommate will be hanging out tonight near the library. Uh, do you wanna come?" I asked, hoping that he would take his chance. Seize the day. He didn't jump to answer. Instead, he stood there thinking. "Pitts, Meeks, Todd..."

"I don't know." He finally said, looking to me again. I saw his eyes gloss over. "I don't know if I can. I have a lot of math shit I have to get done."

"We were going to do our homework together." I spoke too quickly now, interrupting his flow of speech. He let out a laugh, which I did not expect from him. Though, past Charlie, I would've. Maybe he was still in there... somewhere.

"You really can't get enough, eh doll?" He winked at me and then rolled into the classroom. I followed him, shaking my head. Of course, I took my seat in the front, right next to him.

"Are you gonna come or not?" I asked, looking over to him. He didn't say anything, just kept smiling. "We can go after this class. We'll get there early. We'll, Rhonda will probably be there."

"Rhonda." He said. "Nuwanda."

"Shut up." I laughed, and he did too. "Idiot."

"Idiot." He mocked me, grabbing my poetry notebook. "What have you been writing, my dove?"

"Your dove?" I repeated, surprised about the new pet name. I tried to take the journal back, but he flipped through it.

"My dove. My symbol of peace." He mumbled as he read through my writing. "You've improved since the last time I've read your stuff."

"Thanks." I was embarrassed that he was reading my poetry, but at least it made him smile. That's all that mattered. The instructor walked in a few minutes late, apologizing to us students. I looked to Charlie, who just now handed me my book back. He was smirking, and I knew he wanted to cause an uproar.

Our teacher went through his lecture about what makes a good poem good. I disagreed with a lot that he said. I saw know rules in a poem. I saw no signs that led you down a certain path. Charlie was watching me. "Sir." He raised his hand. "She disagrees with you." Great, thanks, Charlie.

"Huh?" I laughed nervously, my face turning red. "No, not exactly. I guess... I just don't understand."

"Understand what?" He asked.

"Well, I guess... I don't know. I've always thought poetry had no rules. It's there to convey a feeling to the reader, whatever that may be. It's all individual, so you can't really put rules on that, right?" I hated that I sounded like a know it all, but Charlie watched me all proud like.

My teacher thought for a moment. "Yes, in a way, you are right." He began but went off on his lecture again. I sent Charlie a glare. In response, he took my hand in his.

We had an assignment due next week to produce three unique poems. They had to be on the same thing. We got to come up with our theme. I was excited for this project, but Charlie seemed indecisive.

When class was over, Charlie and I walked out together, hand in hand. "I hate you." I teased, reminding him of how he made me speak up to a teacher like that.

"You've got to learn." He said, smiling. "Some teachers are pompous assholes. Put them in their place. Tell them when they are wrong."

"Yeah, and end up like you on someone's black list." I teased back. He let go of my hand, placing his arm around my shoulder. I looked to him, my face turning red just how Meeks had when Rhonda flirted with him.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Charlie asked, moving his arm away. I regretted looking at him when he did that. I didn't understand what he meant. "Are you afraid?"

"Afraid of what?" I asked, cocking my head to one side.

"Of... you know." He didn't want to come outright and say it. "I mean, you're not a prude, but borderline."

"Hey!" I slapped his arm, and he started laughing.

"Ok, I won't talk about it. But... we have something, right?" He asked, and my heart began pounding. "Doll, ok. Sorry!" He laughed again, not wanting to make me uncomfortable. "Friends, then. Friends."

"Friends." I replied, though I wanted to say something else.