FUNNY GIRL! (DEAD POETS SOCIETY)

FOUR

SHE didn't like to admit it, but Max Wheeler couldn't deny it either. Charlie Dalton had grown on her immensely. The two had formed a strange friendship and discovered they had their similarities. They had corresponding personalities and kept each other laughing during school days. Perhaps the fact that Max sat beside the boy in English was part of the reason it was her favorite class.

Max gazed around the room, tiredly as Neil Perry read out an opening paragraph in their textbook. Her eyes fell on Charlie's desk and she let out a faint cackle at the improper illustrations he had drawn. He glanced over at the sound of her laugh and flashed her a grin as she shook her head, her brown eyes sparkling as she smiled.

"Excrement." Mr Keating stated monotonously, causing Max to snap her attention back to her class and teacher. "That is what I think of Mr J. Evans Pritchard." The class remained silent. "We're not laying pipe we're talking about poetry. Now I want you to rip out that page."

Confusion followed that instruction as the students glanced around at each other. Surely they couldn't do such a thing. When they were again commanded to do so, Max heard the sound of ripping paper from beside her and turned to see Charlie Dalton holding the sheet of paper in his hand. Influenced by the boy, Max immediately copied his actions and did the same thing, both were thanked by Mr Keating soon the whole room was filled with the sound of paper being torn.

Mr Keating left the room to retrieve a bin for the shredded paper, during his brief absence a man came bursting through the door and demanded to know what was happening. Charlie placed a crumpled page into his mouth as the room fell silent. "I don't hear enough rips!" Mr Keating called, reentering the classroom, bin in his hand. Mr McAllister stood in the doorway as the two teachers looked at each other. "Mr Keating," McAllister said, seeming astounded, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here."

"I am." Mr Keating smiled before McAllister excused himself and Mr Keating walked to the back of the classroom. "Keep ripping, ladies and gentlemen. This is a battle, a war, the casualties could be your hearts, your souls!" Max watched as Charlie spat the bull of scrunched up paper into the trash can before she tossed in her own. Mr Keating continued to speak wisely as the trash can was passed around to all the students for them to discard their paper. When they were given the order to huddle up, there wasn't a shred of reluctancy and the class immediately did so.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life." Max found herself listening attentively, letting every word sink in. "But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." Her eyes flickered over at Georgie and they gave each other affectionate smiles. "That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse." Mr Keating went on and everyone was entranced by the man's words.

Max Wheeler decided Mr Keating was the best teacher she'd ever had. And possible give one of the wisest people too. She listened eagerly for his next words.

"What will your verse be?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'll ask him for you!" Max insisted, staring across at Lilly Sinclair with a firm glint in her eye as she spoke. Lilly rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, Max!"

Max looked passed her friend at the boys in their English class who were sitting a few tables ahead of them. She caught Neil Perry's eye and in a second he was over and sliding in beside Marie. His eyes were sparkling as he surveyed them. He opened the book in his hand and pushed it into the middle of the of the table. Max leaned forward, peering at what he was indicating to and the four girls softly laughed when they spotted the picture of their English professor.

"Is that Keating?" Georgie asked, laughing in mild disbelief, looking up from the page to Neil who nodded. "Look at this, the Dead Poets Society."

"The what?" Max asked, confused as to why she would know what the Dead Poets Society was.

"Dead Poets Society!" He repeated, pointing at the printed words. "We're going to ask him what it is, you guys want to come?"

The four girls happily agreed to this and moments later the group of teens were outside the building, following Mr Keating.

When the maverick teacher didn't answer to his name, Neil called 'Oh captain my captain," which he answered to by turning around and greeting the boys and girls. "We were just looking at your old annual." Neil said, getting straight to the point and handed said annual to him.

Mr Keating chuckled as he was reminded of his days at Welton Academy. "Oh, my God. That's not me." He joked and there was scattered laughs from the spectating group.

"What was the Dead Poets Society?" Neil questioned as he crouched down next to their teacher.

"I doubt the present administration would look to favorably upon that." Mr Keating answered, seeming slightly uncertain answering the question.

"What was it?" Max persisted, finding his reaction quite intriguing and wondering why that was his answer. With a smile on his face, he asked if they could keep a secret, obviously nobody was going to say no to this and they waited for him to go on. "The Dead Poets Society was dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life, that's a phrase from Thoreau we'd invoke and the beginning of every meeting." He told them. "You see we'd gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley - the biggies. Even some our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment, we'd let poetry work it's magic."

Max Wheeler smiled at the thought. It was quite simple, really. It comforted her. "You mean, it was a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?" Knox Overstreet asked, not seeming to keen on the idea and causing Max to frown at him.

"No, Mr Overstreet, it wasn't just a bunch of guys." Mr Keating imitated the way the boy had pronounced the word. "We were romantics." Emphasizing on the noun he used to describe the Dead Poets Society. "We didn't just read poetry. We let it drip from our tongues like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned and Gods were created, not a bad way to spend an evening, hey?"

Max gently squeezed Marie's arm in excitement. Marie shot a warm smile to her chestnut haired friend. Keating passed the book back to Neil. "Thank you, Mr Perry. For this stroll down amnesia lane. Burn that, especially my picture." There was more laughs before he turned away and strolled away, whistling.

The school bell rang out but there wasn't much attention payed to it. Max glanced around, a glint in her eye. "We're doing that, right?" She asked. "I mean, he practically told us to!"

"No he didn't." Lilly said.

"He implied it!" The brunette exclaimed as Lilly continued to shake her head and Max glimpsed around at the others. Her gaze fell on Neil Perry, in her opinion, it seemed like he was some sort of leader among the boys. "I say we go tonight!" He announced as he shot up.

Max clasped her hands together excitedly and looked over at her three best friends. The group started to walk forward as a discussion about the meeting began. "Sounds boring." Cameron said.

"Don't go." Charlie and Max snapped in unison. Both of them grinned at each other and Max knocked her shoulder against his in a playful manner. This was an affectionate action that she usually did when she thought she was close with a person.

Charlie was the first person to agree to going, followed by the three of the four girls, Lilly was reluctant and remained silent. When Pitts was unsure of it his friends tried to convince him.

"I'll try anything for the first time." Meeks said, which was another way of saying he was in. "Except sex!" Charlie joked and Max burst out laughter as they grew closer to the door. She felt exhilarated in the moment and thinking about the meeting that was planned.