Chapter Text
The snow whipped around the boys as they walked back to Welton from Henley Hall, trotting alongside the dark road, kicking up snow and leaving footprints.
Having taken to the front of the gaggle in his adrenaline, Knox scuffed his way through the snow, hands shoved deep into his pockets, a wacky smile on his face.
Charlie walked behind Knox at a distance. The ghost of Charlie’s smile was a thoughtful frown. There was some kind of intellectual discontent which controlled his feet as he kicked chunks of powdery snow into the air.
"Didn’t know Neil had that in him,” Meeks remarked to Pitts.
Pitts nodded his agreement. “He’s good,” he added, emphatically.
"He’s really good,” Charlie butted in, turning over his shoulder. He looked back at the ground, watching his feet, snow gathering in his hair. Something wasn’t sitting right… Something Keating had said…
"Sure, he was good,” Cameron answered, appearing at Pitts’ right, “but did something seem off about him, after?”
"No shit,” Charlie murmured to the snowy ground, cramming his hands into his pants pockets. There was something strange in his eyes, a downturn to his lips.
When none of the boys responded to him, Cameron backtracked: “Ah, it’s probably fine. Mr. Perry was pissed about something or other, we’ve all been there…”
Todd was bringing up the back, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as the wind tugged at his jacket. His smile, like Charlie’s, was a ghost now, too. He was glad that Charlie had asked Mr. Keating if they could walk back—Todd needed time to think.
Charlie and Todd’s smiles had faded differently, but their ghostly frowns had similar motives: Laughing long enough to get the details about the “Chris” situation out of Knox, throw four snowballs squarely at the back of Cameron’s head, and to almost take the group down the wrong side street, Charlie’s smile had taken fifteen minutes to fall from his face. Todd’s smile fell quickly: he laughed with Charlie and the others about Knox, laughed at the first snowball thrown, and then his smile died. Something was wrong with Neil, and both Charlie Dalton and Todd Anderson were painfully aware.
When the show had finished, the boys were ecstatic, just waiting to see Neil, to take him back to Welton so they could run off to their cave and laugh and hawk and praise. But Mr. Perry had taken Neil to the car, whisked him away, got in Mr. Keating’s face—Charlie’s anger about that hadn’t hit him until he had trudged fifteen minutes through the snow, almost back to Welton.
The front gates were in sight now, at the end of the road as the boys walked up over the hill, beginning to get more uproarious. Meeks elbowed Pitts, who fell into Cameron, knocking him to the ground. Cameron tore up out of the snow, and scraped a handful of the white powder together.
"Pitts!” Cameron shouted, and when Pitts turned around, a snowball flew towards him, smacking him in the cheek with a sharp sting.
Reaching down to the ground, Pitts rolled his own snowball, tossing it straight for Cameron’s face, just as Cameron threw another one: although, this one missed, flying past Pitts and breaking up on impact against the back of Knox’s head. Knox whirled around, and total chaos erupted.
Charlie stopped walking, his thoughtful frown playing darkly on his expression. He grabbed a handful of snow off the ground, molded it into a snowball, and threw it back and forth between his hands. That’s when Todd grabbed Charlie’s upper arm.
Turning to Todd immediately, Charlie immediately saw his wide eyes, locked jaw, tight shoulders—the boys had witnessed a panic attack of Todd’s twice, witnessed the build-up to an attack four times (although the first time, they were unaware of what was going on)—and suddenly Charlie was on his guard. “Todd?” he said, glancing down at Todd’s iron grip on his arm.
"Something’s happening to Neil,” Todd answered. It was matter of fact. It was simple. When Todd said it, it sounded not like premonition or just fear, somehow, it sounded certain.
"Whaddya mean?” Charlie answered, wary but scoffing, trying to pretend like he couldn’t feel it, too. Something was wrong with Neil, something was happening to him: there was no explaining these kinds of things. Charlie was nothing if not one to trust his gut—and his gut said Neil was in danger.
"We gotta find him,” Todd answered. When Charlie raised an eyebrow, Todd continued: “It feels like he’s…like Neil’s…it feels like Neil is in danger. And his father is angry, and I just…” he trailed off. “I want to find him.”
Charlie pulled his arm out of Todd’s grip, trying to push down his own rare worry. “We don’t know that Neil—” It felt wrong as soon as he said it “—is actually…” A horrid thought occurred to Charlie. Something about what Mr. Keating had said earlier.
“Oh, come on, Charlie!” Todd’s voice raised. “Don’t you just—”
“Todd.” Charlie’s frown was back, and, this time, worse.
“No, Charlie, we should do something—”
“No, Todd, I know, just…your parents ever got you a BB gun or something like that?”
Todd’s mouth cinched shut again. He shook his head.
There was something dark in Charlie’s eyes. He glanced at the snow, then back at Todd. “Doesn’t matter. Nevermind.”
“Charlie?”
Charlie looked at the boys chucking snowballs through the air at each other. “Alright. I got a plan.” He turned and started walking towards Welton, shouting down to the guys fumbling in the snow. “C’mon, you deadbeats! Let’s go!”
Knox, Cameron, Meeks, and Pitts looked up from their snow battle to see Charlie walking quickly towards the gates of Welton, Todd running behind him to keep up. The boys looked at each other, then began scrambling through the snow to catch up.
“No, Charlie—” Todd ran up next to him, nearly slipping on the snow “—what were you gonna say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie answered, pulling his hands from his pockets to gesture widely with them. “It’s stupid, forget it.”
“Charlie.” Todd’s voice was tight.
Turning to look at Todd’s face, Charlie sighed. “Right, well, sometimes my father will take me out to a range and we’ll shoot, and we’ve been going since a few years ago.” Charlie pushed his hands back into his pockets. “Neil and I got talking about it once. Came up that his father had a revolver he keeps in his nightstand.”
“So?”
“You remember what Knox was sayin’ back in the cave, ‘bout how if he couldn’t have Chris…”
“If he couldn’t have Chris, he’d kill himself.” Todd answered.
Charlie stopped walking. He turned to Todd, pain in his frown. “And maybe Neil would too, for what he loves.”
Todd stared at Charlie.
“Think about it,” Charlie spat back, starting to walk again, and Todd began to follow. “Nolan, Mr. Perry, the way Mr. Perry got in Keating’s face, the whole thing. Mr. Perry’s gonna be pissed, and it might as well be over for Neil.”
“Just like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Charlie—”
“Come on, think about what Keating said! ‘Disturbing the universe’, ‘wormy beds’—”
“And we’re just going to—”
“Well, dammit, Todd, he’s my best friend!” Charlie stopped again. He was staring straight ahead, looking at the gates of Welton. He turned to look at Todd. “We’re going to his house.” He cleared his throat. “Like whatever it was Knoxious back there—” he looked over his shoulder at the other boys, who had almost caught up “—said to his one-night sweetheart. Dead Poet’s Honor. We’re going to Neil’s house. Dead Poet’s Honor.”
Todd nodded, his mouth slightly agape.
Charlie put his hand out. Todd shook it.
“Charlie, what’s with the hurry?” Knox panted, clapping Charlie on the shoulder as he walked up.
Turning to face the guys, Charlie dropped Todd’s hand. “We’re going to Neil’s house. You’re either in or you’re out. Make your decisions.”
Looks of confusion came across the guys’ faces.
“Chop, chop, come on,” Charlie responded to the silence.
“I mean,” Meeks looked from Charlie, to Pitts, then back to Charlie, “I’m in, but why are we going to Neil’s house?”
“Think about what Keating said earlier, after Mr. Perry took Neil. Are we worried about Neil or not?” Charlie sighed. “We gotta hurry this up. If you’re in, follow me, if you’re out, stay here at Welton, feel free.” He turned and started walking towards the gates, brushing snow out of his hair. “We’re all Poets, dammit!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Neil, too,” he muttered to himself.
Todd turned and followed after Charlie.
Knox, Meeks, Pitts, and Cameron shared a look.
“Why not?” Knox said, then ducked after Charlie and Todd.
“Guys,” Cameron said. “Are we really doing this? I mean, how are we even getting there?”
Pitts shrugged and looked at Meeks, who nodded. They followed after Knox.
Cameron sighed. And then he followed the group. “How are we even getting there?” he shouted.
“I’m driving, one of you can call shotgun!” Charlie shouted back over his shoulder.
“Driving what?” demanded Cameron.
“Mr. Nolan’s car!” Charlie broke into a run. And the rest of the Poets followed.