Dead Poets Society

loudly. The boys turned toward him and settled in. “Gentlemen,” he said,
“’Poetrusic’ by Charles Dalton.”
    Charles blew a
stream of random and blaring notes on the saxophone, then suddenly stopped.
Trance-like, he began to speak: ‘“Laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling, gotta
do more. Gotta be more...“
    He played a few more
notes on the saxophone, then, speaking faster than before, continued, “‘Chaos
screaming, chaos dreaming, crying, flying, gotta be more! Gotta be more!’”
    The cave was silent.
Then Charlie picked up the instrument and played a simple but breathtaking
melody. The skeptical looks on the boys’ faces disappeared as Charlie continued
playing, lost in the music, and ending with a long and haunting note.
    The boys sat silent,
letting the beautiful sound wash over them. Neil spoke first.
    “Charlie, that was
great. Where did you learn to play like that?”
    “My parents made me
take clarinet, but I hated it,” Charlie said, coming back down to earth. “The
sax is more sonorous,” he said in a mock British accent.
    Suddenly Knox stood
up, backed away from the group, and wailed out his torment. “God, I can’t take
it anymore! If I don’t have Chris, I’ll kill myself!”
    “Knox, you gotta
calm down,” Charlie said.
    “No, I’ve been calm
all my life! If I don’t do something, it’s gonna kill me!”
    “Where are you
going?” Neil called as Knox headed out of the cave.
    “I’m calling her,”
Knox said, running into the woods.
    The society meeting
ended abruptly and the boys followed Knox back to the campus. Knox might not
die of passivity, but there was a good chance he’d die of embarrassment if he
called Chris, and the society pledges felt obliged to stand by their fellow
poet.
    “I’ve got to do
this,” Knox said as he picked up the dorm phone. The boys surrounded him
protectively as he boldly dialed her telephone number.
    “Hello?” Knox heard
Chris’s voice on the other end of the phone. He panicked and hung up.
    “She’s gonna hate
me! The Danburrys will hate me. My parents will kill me!” He looked around at
the others trying to read their faces. No one said a word. “All right, goddamn
it, you’re right! ‘Carpe Diem,’ even if it kills me.”
    He picked up the
phone and dialed again.
    Hello?” He heard her
voice.
    “Hello, Chris, this
is Knox Overstreet,” he said.
    “Knox... oh yes,
Knox. I’m glad you called.”
    “You are?” He
covered the phone and told his friends excitedly, “She’s glad I called!”
    “I wanted to call
you,” Chris said. “But I didn’t have the number. Chet’s parents are going out
of town this weekend, so Chet’s having a party. Would you like to come?”
    “Well, sure!” Knox
beamed.
    “Chet’s parents
don’t know about it so please keep it quiet. But you can bring someone if you
like.”
    “I’ll be there,”
Knox said excitedly. “The Danburrys’. Friday night. Thank you, Chris.”
    He hung up the
phone, overcome, and let out a loud yelp. “Can you believe it? She was gonna
call me! She invited me to a party with her!”
    “At Chet Danburry’s
house,” Charlie said flatly.
    “Yeah.”
    “Well?” Charlie
asked.
    “So?” Knox was
getting defensive.
    “So you really think
she means you’re going with her?”
    “Well, hell no,
Charlie, but that’s not the point. That’s not the point at all!”
    “What is the point?”
Charlie pressed.
    “The point is she
was thinking about me!”
    “Ah.” Charlie shook
his head.
    “I’ve only met her
once and already she’s thinking about me.” Knox almost jumped up and down.
“Damn it, it’s gonna happen. She’s going to be mine!”
    He raced out of the
phone room, his feet barely touching the floor. His friends looked at each
other and shook their heads.
    “Who knows?” Charlie
asked.
    “I just hope he
doesn’t get hurt,” Neil said.

Chapter 9

     
     
    Neil pedaled rapidly
through the town square on his way to Henley Hall for rehearsals. He cruised
past the town hall and a row of shops and continued along the quiet Vermont
road until he reached the white brick buildings of Henley Hall. He slid his
bike through the gate and parked it in the rack in front of the building. As he
entered the auditorium, the director called out to him.
    “Hurry up, Neil. We
can’t do this scene without our Puck.”
    Neil smiled and
dashed to center stage. He grabbed a stick with a jester’s head on the end of
it from the prop girl and