The Dead Poets

46

"Violet? Violet!" Knox proclaims, busting through through the door way, his face flushed, as he holds a tie in each hand.

"I need your advice, the boys are no use," He says all too seriously.

I try to suppress my laugh at how over dramatic he is being, but fail miserably.

"Come on, this is serious," Knox whines, crossing his arms over his chest, his lower lip pushed out into a pout.

"Okay, okay," I say, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile.

He holds the black tie against his chest, then quickly switches to the navy blue option.

"So?" He asks growing ever so impatient.

"Hmm," I ponder aloud, knowing all too well the ties look virtually the same simply depending on the lighting.

"Go with the black, it's classy," I say, making my final decision. Although it's futile, Knox will change his mind just about a dozen times all before this evening.

Tonight is New Year's Eve. Charlie's parents are hosting their annual party into the new year. All the boys and their families are invited—including me.

I have yet to meet Charlie's parents, and to say I'm nervous is an understatement. I feared I wouldn't be good enough for them. From what I've heard, they're rather...old fashioned and, well, snobby.
Charlie's words, not mine.

Although I can't imagine they'll be all that bad, if they raised Charlie as their son. He is the furthest thing from snobby. I take a deep, shaky breath, calming my growing nerves.

"Violet? You alright?" Knox asks, worry written across his features. I almost forgot he was still here.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. Though Knox knows me far too well to believe it. He tosses the ties onto the wooden desk, before taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside me.

"Now, tell me what's really wrong. Please?" He urges softly, his golden puppy dog eyes trapping me, causing me to spill all my inner thoughts to him here and now.

"What if Charlie's parents don't like me? What if they insist we-we-" I stumble over my words, more fearful over the possibility of Charlie's parents putting an end to our relationship than I had thought.

Knox places a gentle hand on my thigh, his thumb rubbing back and forth slowly atop my skin.

"Not possible. They'll love you, alright?" His eyes hold onto my gaze intensely, ensuring I was understanding every word he spoke.

"Besides, Charlie's never been known to listen to his folks anyways," Knox says, a successful attempt to lighten the mood, causing a laugh to escape my mouth.

"Thanks," I whisper.

~

I huff, slamming the hairbrush atop the surface of the vanity. I cross my arms over my chest, glancing frustrated at my appearance.

I've brushed my hair in about as many styles as I can imagine, liking none of them.

I could just about cry, or scream, or both.