Dead Poets and Dying Roses

Twenty First Chapter

For half an hour I've been staring at his glasses. They lay cold in my hands. Finally I dare to put them on. I place myself in front of the mirror and try to find some similarities between Neil and me. Our fathers are brothers, there has to be something. Maybe our smile or our brows. Our cheekbones or the spark in our eyes. I can not bare to stare at my reflection any longer. I take off the glasses and go downstairs. Mrs. Perry is knitting in the living room. That's the only thing she does since the funeral. And my uncle? I do not know. Probably working. We haven't talked with eachother, but we haven't screamed at eachother either. "I'm going to Welton." I absentmindly murmur into the room. But my aunt barely registrates me and just mumbles something like approaval under her breath. No one cares where I go anymore. I ride over with my bicycle, coat open, feeling the icey air. Shall I freeze to death. I couldn't care less.

Meeting up with the boys and sitting in the trunk room in the basement feels like a cheap copy of what once has been. A shadow of our past selves. We are sitting in a circle, I'm in Charlie's arms, smoking a cigarette to calm my nerves. Otherwise I would loose it. When Meeks finally arrives, without Cameron, we know it's over. Charlie throws his hands in the air. "That's it, guys, we are all fried." At first the others don't get it, but they quickly fall silent as their friend lashes out about Cameron finking. They all look like children, who have been told that Santa Claus doesn't exist. "They need a scapegoat.", I sigh resignated, taking another drag at the cigarette. Keating. A rumble and footsteps rip us out of our thoughts. Hastily we throw our stuff in a bowl and try to get rid of the smoke. I kick the bowl under a table right in time, before someone rounds the corner. It's the lost member of the group. He seems nervous, attempting to engage with us, but Charlie doesn't let him, accusing him of snitching at an instant. Of course, as always, a fight breaks out between the two. I just roll my eyes as Cameron brings in the moral code of the school. Shortly after this Charlie can't hold himself back anymore and wants to attack the red-head. Knox and Meeks get a hold of him, before he can do anything he will regret and I have a good grip on his arm, too. Well, I seriously doubt he would really regret it that much. Knox still tries to talk some sense into his friend. "Don't touch him, Charlie. You do it and you are out!" "I'm out, anyway!", he calls out as an answer. He is furious, but I can hear the brokeness in his words. He is hurt like me. After all, he has been Neil's first and best friend. Their bond has been deep. I take his hand in mine and turn his face to me. "This rat is not worth it, okay." He looks at me with this wilderness, but he takes a step back. Not much longer and he will explode. And I would understand it. I have known the consequences of my actions. What it could cost. But I have also always been willing to take the fall and take the blame with me. So, I glare at this traitor angrily, while he tries talking the others into dumping it all at Keating, too. I press my lips together and keep quiet, until he takes my cousin's name into his mouth. "Mr. Keating put us up for all this crap, didn't he?", Cameron cries out desperate. "If it wasn't for Mr. Keating, Neil would be cozied up in his room right now, studying his chemistry and dreaming of being called doct-" "Oh, cut the crap, asshole!", I snap at him not believing, what he has been about to say. I want to scream at him, but I choke on my hate. But not Todd. "That's not true and you know that! He didn't put us up to anything!" Tears well up in his eyes as the emotions rail up in him. "Neil loved acting.", I hiss in Cameron's direction vengeful. My voice is raspy and low. He must have sensed the danger and shuts his mouth for a second. "Believe what you want, but I say: Let Keating frie. I mean, why ruin our lives.", he states, pointing with his finger. And that's it. I let go of Charlie's arm. That is all I need to do. Charlie shoots forward and hits his opponent in the face. Cameron flies back, blood streaming out of his nose, but a spiteful gleam in his eyes. "You just signed your expulsion papers, Nuwanda." He spits on the ground and speaks out one last threat. "And if the rest of you are smart, you'll do exactly what I did. They know everything anyway." We all just stare at him in silence. "You can't save Keating. But you can save yourself." I cannot bare his disrespect any longer. I step forward and strike him across the face. "You are an idiot and a coward, Richard. So, don't wonder, if you end up outcasted and alone.", I bring out quivering. Then I storm out. Through the corridors and out. Out of this basement, out of this building. Away from this fucking school. I'm panting and need to take a break. I lean forward, my hands on my legs to steady myself. My vision is blurry and my breath is ragged. It hurts to get the air inside my lungs again. Everything hurts. It takes me some minutes to collect myself. I wipe the tears away with my arm and walk back to my bike. Hopefully, I won't ever see those horrible human beings again. Mr. Nolan, my uncle. Cameron.

One day later the consequences are already noticeable. I'm strolling through the halls of Welton with a filled cardboard in hands, when I meet Mr. Keating. It's like I'm looking into a mirror. He carries his own box with items. So they've kicked him out. "Ms. Parks-Dubois, what gives me the plessure of meeting you here?" "It's the same reason as you, I suppose. I came to collect Neil's personal stuff." I breath in heavily. "My aunt couldn't bring herself to do it and my uncle...well, he doesn't want to have it at all. So, I'm here." A sad and knowing smile crosses Mr. Keating's face. "I'm truly sorry, Rosalie." "No, I am.", I throw in. "It's not fair, what they did to you." He chuckles lightly. "Oh, don't mourn me, I will be okay. You know that is the most interesting aspect of life. It's never easy. But it is our decision, if we give up or conquer it." His words sound so sincere, it's hard to not believe in them. "Atleast let me help you with that." I point at his box. "Oh, no. I can not-" But I cut him off. "I insist. At least let me do that for you." He seems to contemplate it and then nods with a soft smile. So, we scramble around in his tiny room, putting pictures and books into cardboards. Then I follow him through the halls until we reach a classroom. As Mr. Keating enters the room I stand frozen behind him as I spot Mr. Nolan. It's making my blood boil how he stands there, where he should have stood. I wait outside, my teeth clenched together thightly, while our former captain gets his items. The boys keep there heads low. They are ashamed. I don't blame them for spilling everything. After Cameron has talked, it all would have crumbled down anyway. A pleased grin steals its way on my lips as none of the pupil's can read the introduction of their book. Neil has told me about the infamous Pritchard-incident. It gives me a certain kind of satisfaction seeing Nolan getting angry. Let him be annoyed to death. Even Mr. Keating seems to enjoy the situation. It must break his heart to leave. As he is almost out of the room it is happening. Todd disrupts the silence and jumps up, pleading and swearing that they have been forced to sign the their teacher's release papers. Nolan is furious by now, trying to shut him up, but he fails. Keating just gives him an understanding look, then he turns around. He is about to go, when Todd climbs his desk. "Oh Captain! My Captain!" And I don't care what anybody else might think, but in this moment Todd has been the bravest boy I have ever met. His passion and loyalty spread like a wildfire through the classroom. Knox is the next to step up, then Pitts and Meeks. More and more people stand up, like knights that honour their king. Just a few stay down, but that doesn't stop anything. A lost fire inside of me burns up again and while Nolan screams around at the other boys, I use the distraction and climb on top of the next table, paying my tribute. Atleast they can't expell me. With bitterness in my heart I stare at Charlie's desk. He would have been the first to step up. I don't even look at Neil's former spot. Our message is clear and full of passion. "Thank you, boys.", Mr Keating acknowledges our rebellion and his eyes speak of proudness. And hopefully we have created a worthy and memorable end of his carreer. He deserves it.