The next three weeks passed in a flurry of rushed whispers, secret glances, and late night talks for the Dead Poets Society. Monique didn't take any time in setting up right where her brother had left off, but Monique's, as hard as she tried, was still no John Keating. She lacked the one quality that spoke so highly of John- she was impatient. She rushed through her classes, thinking that by rushing she was getting the chance to cram more beauty in to the heads of her students. What she didn't quite understand was that, in order to appreciate all the beauty she was trying to get across to them, they needed time to appreciate it. But she didn't give them that. And so, unfortunately, a very small portion of what she was trying to get across was actually absorbed. But the students still loved her, despite this fault, and she began to grow on each student in a different way.

Each day, Monique grew more and more beautiful to Todd. He began to live for her smile, for the sidelong glance she would give him as she walked up and down the rows of students. He began staying later and later after class, insisting that he needed help, but insisting that the help he needed could only be administered from Monique. But, as much as he thought she was beautiful, and as much as he admired her skill as a teacher, sadness remained in his heart. He knew that his love wasn't going anywhere. He knew that she was a teacher, him a student, two people that would never come in to contact the way he wanted them to. Which is why, after two weeks of class with Monique, Todd became the same sullen boy he had always been. His thoughts got to him, as they always did in the end. He had broken out of his shell for a brief period of time- something he had done only once before when Neil was alive. The memory of the last time wsa still as clear as the moment it happened.

"Today's my birthday."

"Oh really? Well, happy birthday!"

"Yeah thanks. My parents sent me a desk set."

"Wait, this looks a lot like-"

"Yeah. Its the same one they bought me last year. But you know , the funny thing about this is, I didn't even like it the first time."

He giggled nervously as he watched his best friend pickup the desk set and turn it over gingerly in his hands, as if handling a precious jewel. He watched as a slow smile crossed his friends face.

"You know, I think you're underestimating the value of this desk set. Its really nice. If I were to buy a desk set- twice- it'd be this one! Actually, if you look at it, its rather aerodynamic, isn't it. Todd, I can feel it. This desk set wants to fly..."

He looked up at his best friend, a look of confusion in his eyes. Slowly, comprehension dawned and he jumped to his feet, grabbing the desk set out of his friends waiting hands.

"May I present the first unmanned flying desk set."

He chucked his birthday present off the top of the roof, laughing crazily like he hadn't done in years. He hugged is best friend and continued laughing until the tears poured from his eyes.

Todd looked up from his daydream in surprise. He met two large green eyes staring back at him.

"So glad you could join us, Mr. Anderson. Now that you're back, care to take a stab at answering the question?"

"Uh...what was the question?"

The class giggled nervously and a small smile crossed the full, rosy lips of Monique.

"Well, Todd, the class was just discussing some of our favorite lines of poetry. Care to input your favorite poem or portion of poetry?"

"Oh yeah, no problem," Todd cleared his throat and looked out the window, focusing on the woods outside the classroom, "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to live deep and suck all the marrow out of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not, when I came to die, discovered that I had not lived. Will that do it, Ms. Keating?"

"Yes yes, that's fine. Something interesting, class. If you notice, Mr. Dalton, Mr. Overstreet, Mr. Pitts, Mr. Meeks, and Mr. Anderson all chose the same piece of poetry that is in fact not poetry at all. The passage they quoted comes from Henry David Thoreau's Walden, a fabulous book. This brings us to another discussion point- what makes poetry, poetry? Can a book passage indeed be poetry?"

The rest of the class passed without incident and Todd was careful to control his daydreaming and pay attention in class. He couldn't help but dwell on the look of Monique's eyes so close to his, the way her lips looked when she smiled, the way her hair fell, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. The bell rang and Todd stood slowly, wanting to linger more. But he knew that he had a lot of homework to do, and that his hanging around wouldn't accomplish anything. He had one foot out the door when he heard her sweet, angelic voice call his name.

"Mr. Anderson, can I see you for a minute?"

Todd spun on his heel and walked silently up to her desk, where she was sitting, still smiling.

"Don't look so scared, Todd. This isn't a death sentence. I just want to talk to you about what happened in class today. Todd, you're not the kind of guy who doesn't pay attention. Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, Ms. Keating. Everything's fine. I'm sorry about what happened in class today. I guess I'm just really tired. I'm still not sleeping well, and I haven't' been since, well...since everything happened."

"You mean with Neil?"

"Yeah, Ms. Keating. Since everything happened with Neil. But I'll be ok. I'll pay attention in class from now on. I promise."

"I believe you Todd. But I do want to talk to you more about everything. I think that you have a lot of things going on inside you right now, Todd, things that shouldn't be bottled up. I'd really like to talk to you. Can you stop by my room tomorrow night at around nine?"

"I can try, Ms. Keating, but you know how strict they've gotten about the curfew now. Students aren't supposed to be out past nine."

"Don't you worry about that, Todd. I'll take care of the curfew. All you have to do is show up tomorrow. Do you think you can do that?"

"Sure Ms. Keating. Anything else?"

"Yeah, just a few more things. What was that verse from?"

"What verse?"

"The verse that you and Charlie and Knox and Pitts and Meeks all quoted so passionately. That's not just coincidence. You all quoted it word for word. Was it from an old reading assignment or...?"

"Not exactly, Ms. Keating. It's a long story, and I don't know how much you know about...well, about the club that we're all involved in, but it had a lot to do with that."

"Ah. I see. I should have known that it would have something to do with that. Now it makes a lot more sense."

"Anything else, Ms. Keating? I hate to be rude, but I really do have to go. I have quite a bit of homework to do."

"No, Todd. There's nothing else. You can go. I'll see you tomorrow at nine?"

"Yeah Ms. Keating. I'll be there."

Todd spun on his heel again and made a fast break for the door, trying to calm his heart. He had just regained control of his breathing as he reached the door when he heard her call his name again.

"Actually Todd, there is one more thing."

"Yes, Ms. Keating?"

"Call me Monique."

"Alright, Monique. I'll see you tomorrow."

Todd almost ran out of the class, hoping to escape before she said anything else. His head was spinning with everything that had just happened. He had just talked to the woman he loved. She had invited him over to her apartment to talk. She had looked him in the eyes and told him to call her Monique. Todd was ecstatic, scared, and an all-over teenager.

'What does this mean,' he thought to himself, 'does she really just want to talk? Maybe it's more than that! But, then again, maybe its not. It's probably not. She couldn't want to do more than talk...not with someone like me. She probably doesn't even WANT to talk. She just feels like she NEEDS to talk to me. Like I'm some poor charity case just because my friend died. Well, I don't I don't need someone to talk to. I'm fine by myself. If the other boys can do it, so can I. I'm no different than they are. I wish people would stop thinking I'm so fucking fragile. That's what I liked about Neil- he treated me like a person. Not some fucking china doll who was about to break. I'm fine. I am.'

"I'M FINE. I'M FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC," Todd shouted at the glass cases of old photos he found himself standing in front of. The farthest left case had become somewhat of a shrine to Neil; a glass case full of his photos and notes that friends had written him after his funeral. Millions of I miss you notes and Wish You We're Back cards and roses and teddy bears and pictures. But only one card of tears. The small white paper had only three words on it, but was stained with tears. It was Todd's note. Todd collapsed to the floor and put his forehead against the cool glass. The tears were now streaming down his face and he was so mad at the voices in his head for talking him in to this place again. He thought to himself again how much he would love to stay happy, just for once. Todd glanced up and found the note he had written Neil. Its three words, in small letters, were blurry from the tears that had somehow found their way onto the paper. Todd read the note for the millionth time.

I'll remember you.

Todd leaned his head against the glass once more and only to himself admitted defeat.

"I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all."