unscripted | dead poets society ✓

06 | to play with a firebird

     GIRLS WERE NO STRANGER to Neil, but Neil was a stranger to girls. They were never really his focus from the moment he was introduced to the world of the living, as enticing as they were. But one in particular managed to catch his eye, and that was Presley.

     Neil couldn't quite explain it to himself either. But something stirred in him while she stood in front of the boys back at the cave, reciting her poem with such vigor. She was the epitome of all things Neil couldn't imagine he wanted, and the more she goes against him, the more he wants her friction.

     For the longest time, Presley had acquired the unhealthy habit of staying away from human interaction. The fact that she was being home schooled helped, a lot, which had resulted in her being distant from her parents as much as she is distant to strangers. The last time she had an in-depth conversation with anyone was eight years ago.

     Mr. Keating was not counted because he was the only one opening up to Presley, and the gesture was not returned. For the duration they had been acquainted, the only difference between how she treats Mr. Keating and other people is that she smiles more to him, and that was all.

     Presley never relished the idea of addressing her problem, since she herself couldn't bring herself to admit it. Everyday she just lives as if it was an endless cycle, waiting for everything to end. And this new environment namely Welton Academy destroyed her life long routine, which resulted in her unconciously having a culture shock.

     And as she strode over the halls of Welton, she slightly flinched when someone put an arm around her shoulders without prior warning. That someone being Neil, who walked alongside her with a stupid grin plastered on his face, as usual. Presley shot him a condescending glare, despite the guy being taller than her. "Pres, you have to join us!" Neil whispered hastily.

     "Don't call me that." Presley snapped at him, unconsciously taking a step away from him, to which he just pulled her back closer to him. Presley resisted the urge to push the boy away in a harsh manner, pressing her lips into a thin line in distaste. "And since when did we become this close that you can put your arm around me and not expect a punch?"

     "Pres, come on, it'll be fun! You heard what Mr. Keating said! Carpe Diem, seize the day." Neil ignores her warning and continues on being persistent. This resulted in Presley letting out an exasperated sigh, removing Neil's arm from her shoulder as she stood in front of him.

     "Neil, I — "

     "Please?" He pleaded, cutting her off midsentence. Presley bites her bottom lip, knitting her eyebrows in annoyance as she stared incredulously at the irritatingly persistent boy. "Pretty please?"

     Sighing, Presley turns to avert her gaze from Neil, who's eyes remained on her the whole time. He thought she looked sort of adorable as she contemplated on giving an answer. "Why?" She hisses, the volume of her voice dropping lower.

     Neil only responded with a shrug, which Presley thought was so helpful. Staring incredulously at Neil, she lets out a scoff, shaking her head out of disbelief. With one last look at the boy, she turned around to walk away,  though this time, Neil didn't follow.

     Turning around to go back to the direction where he came from, he catches the other boys whose heads have stacked at his doorway, apparently watching the whole scene unfold. Shooting a pointed glare that way, Charlie had his signature smirk on his face, as Knox and Meeks snicker deviously. "What are you looking at?"

     "Why'd you do that, dumbass?" Meeks asks, a laugh eliciting from him. Neil rolls his eyes at this as he approaches them, shaking his head whilst pressing his lips into a thin line. The boy didn't expect Presley to agree immediately, but damn was she difficult.