The Dead Poets

4

Today was the first day of classes, and frankly, I was not looking forward to it.

Although, to be the only girl in a class of all males would excite some, it terrified me to the core.

I grab the textbooks assigned for the day, and after— begrudgingly— shoving them deep into my bag, I decide to make my way downstairs for breakfast.

I was fairly early— breakfast wouldn't even be served for another fifteen minutes— but I had decided I would avoid walking into a room of curious, gawking males.

It was as if seeing a girl was like spotting an alien— or some other rare and non-existent creature.

Clutching my bag tightly to my side, I make my way down the grand spiral staircases.

Although I'm not quite sure how I feel about this school yet, one thing I will say, is the architecture is spectacular.

There is a beautiful stream just a few miles from the school, running languidly around the property— which is adorned with huge oak and willow trees.

Dozens of large windows and tall columns, and flower beds surround the old building. I could spot just about a dozen ideal reading places.

If anything, it's definitely a beautiful sight to see.

I walk into the hall for breakfast, only to find the room empty.

I look outside, through one of the many large windows, and notice the sun is out. Deciding not to wait alone in the hall, I grab the book I'm currently reading from my bag, and make a beeline for a giant willow tree by the stream.

The cool, fall breeze on my face instantly relaxes me, as I slump down against the wide tree trunk and begin to read my novel. 

After being completely immersed in my reading, I quickly glance at the dainty wrist watch clasped to my arm, to see if the fifteen minutes had passed.

To my utter surprise, breakfast had finished and classes had begun nearly ten minutes ago.

Quickly gathering my belongings, I hastily shove them into my book bag, as I dash towards my first class.

So much for going unnoticed.

After what seemed like a never ending cycle of boring lectures and endless stares from curious boys, I had finally made it to my final class, english.

I walk into the class late. Partly due to my own tardiness, but also my lack of knowledge in navigating the school's— seemingly endless— corridors.

Thankfully, the teacher hadn't come in yet, so, naturally, I try to sneak in unnoticed.

Unfortunately for me, it seems my luck has run out for the day— if I even had any to begin with.

The only seat left in the class, was in the far back, next to none other than Charlie. 

I slumped down in the seat, silently hoping he wouldn't notice me.

"Rough day?" He asks, sporting his signature side smirk, while leaning back in his chair.

"—And it's not even noon yet."

I huff, deciding not to answer, hoping the teacher will enter at any second, interrupting our conversation— if you could even call it that.

"Fine, play hard to get," He winks, before returning his attention back to the sketch pad on his desk.

Just then, a whistling sound is heard at the front of the room, as—who I presume to be the teacher—slowly saunters past all the desks, exiting the classroom just as quickly as he had entered. 

"Well, come on," He states so matter-of-factly, sticking his head back into the doorway for a mere second, before continuing his slow waltz out of the room once again.

The students give each other confused glances, before picking up their books and hesitantly following the rather strange teacher out the door.