𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 [𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘]

𝑑𝑢𝑜

ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎 single class seemed typical for a preparatory school. the teachers did their job, they lectured and asked questions to the students. an annoying factor that she noticed in all her teachers so far, is that they ignored her raised hand.

her notes were perfect, and she had loads of homework, not to mention all the stares from the boys in each class. not one of them had even bothered to be nice and introduce themselves to her.

the next class was no exception. expecting this class was to be like all the others she had experienced that day, ophelia sat in the second row, closest to the window.

she looked out the window at the wonderful view of the colorful trees. she wished that that was her view from her window, at least there was color.

the whistling caught her attention. she recognized the sweet tune, it was one she learned on the viola years ago. she looked up to see the man who had helped her with her bags the day before.

ophelia's expression brightened, glad to see that she had a kind teacher. he walked in front of the class and proceeded to walk right out the door, still whistling.

the boy in front of ophelia turned to her confused. but he didn't realize who would be behind him. when they made eye contact, he immediately blushed and looked away, but ophelia didn't. she wanted to keep looking into his blue eyes.

"well, come on," the teacher called. ophelia was the first to stand up, notebook in hand, and follow him. she was following instructions, so she didn't see how she would get in trouble.

the classroom remained silent, with only the click-clack of her heels, that was mandatory for her uniform because of the dress code, against the floor.

keating smiled to see that she was the first one to step out of the classroom. she followed him to the front of the table and sat down on it cross-legged so her skirt would sit neatly on her thighs.

seconds later, the boys came out of the classroom not nearing the girl at the front.

"o captain! my captain! who knows where that comes from?" the class remained quiet. ophelia, feared of being ignored again, decided against raising her hand.

"anyone?" the teacher asked again, "not a clue?"

ophelia took her chance and slowly elevated her arm.

"yes," he said indicating to her.

ophelia smiled, a bright smile as she answered confidently, "it's whitman, sir."

"correct! it is a poem by walt whitman about mr. abraham lincoln. now, in this class, you can either call me mr. keating, or if you're slightly more daring, 'o captain! my captain!'"

ophelia, along with the rest of the class, smiled, amused by the comment.

"now, let me dispel a few rumors so they don't fester into facts. yes, i too attended hell-ton and survived. and no, at that time, i was not the mental giant you see before you. i was actually the intellectual equivalent of a ninety-eight-pound weakling."

he then proceeded to go on about a couple more things about his life here at "hell-ton" which gave no interest to ophelia. yet still she nodded as if she was listening.