Todd Anderson wiped his sweaty hands and reached out for the gold door-knob in front of him. He looked down and eyes his reflection, upside down and warped in the convex metal. Suddenly his hand withdrew and found its way in to Todd's pocket. He turned his back to the door and took a quick three steps before turning back a round, a concrete look on his face. But just as his had touched the doorknob, again it retreated in to the safe confines as his pocket. Todd sat against the wall, leaning his head between his legs and running his hands through his hair. He didn't know why he had the trouble getting up the nerve to go and see Monique. She had asked him to come see her, she had invited him and even though he knew that he could never take it to the level he wanted to, he was still eager to go. Or so he thought.
Todd glanced around quickly as he heard footsteps approaching him in the hallway. The only thing more embarrassing than not being able to work up the nerve to see Monique was being caught a coward. Todd dashed quickly around the corner and down the stairs, passing only a janitor on his way down. Todd knew that Monique would not only be disappointed but that she would also most likely be deeply concerned. That was the kind of person Monique was. She was kind, she was caring and she worried about people. Those were just a few of the hundreds of aspects that made Todd love her so much. The light that caught her red hair and winked at him during class. The smell of her violet perfume as she leant over him, discussing a paper he had turned in. Her ability to quote the romantic poets, American authors, British playwrights and German philosophers- all traits that brought a smile to Todd's face. Not just any smile- the kind of smile that Todd had not had since he was just a little boy.
When Todd was fourteen, he was so excited to be going to his first school dance with a girl. His date- Sandy Beekman- was the first chair clarinet player, a soprano, and president of the knitting club. She had long brown hair and big blue eyes. Her teeth were crooked and her skin was pale and freckled, but Todd liked her anyways. He liked her because she liked him, and Todd hadn't ever been liked by anyone before.
Todd stood outside his school dance smiling, a small bouquet of daisies in his hand. He pulled nervously at his tie and looked around the nearly empty parking lot. he glanced at his watch, noting that his date was only ten minutes late. Todd crossed to a bench and set the small bouquet down beside him. He crossed his legs and yet again scanned the faces of girls around him, still not spotting the ivory skin of his lady love. Todd leant his head back and felt the breeze lift his hair gently before settling it back in to place. The next time Todd glanced at his watch he noted that his date was now almost a full half hour late. Sighing dejectedly, Todd picked up the small bouquet and began the mile and a half trudge home. On his way, he shoved the daisies deep in to the trashcan, adding his tie along with them.
The next day at school, Todd noticed everyone looking at him but not speaking too him. They averted their eyes and he felt their giggles follow him everywhere. He heard what no one would tell him- Sandy had stood him up, that she had told everyone that he was a desperate kid who had tricked her in to saying yes. That he was more of a loser than they ever would have dreamed. That day, after Todd had done his homework, cleaned his room, and done his share of the laundry, he sat down in his room and cried, the bedsprings shifting gently to match his sobs.
Todd ran with an aimless purpose towards the only place he knew he could go to feel alone yet complete. He felt the sharp slaps of pine branches as they slapped his face and hands and he pulled his coat tighter around him, trying to shield himself from the cold. He shoved his hands deep in to his pockets, where he found a copy of the poem he had written about Neil- the only poem he had ever dared to share with the Society. As he approached the half-hidden stone entrance of the cave, he pulled the poem out of his pocket and folded it in half again.
The cave was as cold yet as welcoming as it had ever been. Todd walked slowly, his head ducked even though he could have stood up straight if he wanted too. He made his way slowly around the fire pit, memories clouding his mind as tears clouded his eyes. Slowly, he sat down at the head of the fire pit and drew the poem from his pocket. He set the poem in the middle of the fire pit. He was looking around for a stone when another piece of paper caught his eye. He stood up and made his way to the corner of the cave, where he found the crumpled up newspaper article that had told them all of Mr. Keating's death. Todd stared at the crumpled ball of paper in his hands, moistening spots with fat, juicy tears. With great deliberation, he turned back towards the pit and set the newspaper article next to his poem.
Seeing what he needed by the edge of the pit, Todd picked up the flat flint stone and struck it against the pocket knife that lay on the rock by his side. Sparks jumped, but didn't catch. Todd struck the flint again, harder. This time a small spark caught hold to the edge of his poem, creeping its way along the edge, soon consuming both the poem and the article.
Todd watched the red-orange flames lick both edges of the paper. Todd felt a warm sensation start in the pit of his stomach, as spread towards the outer edges of his body, a mirror image of the flames that began to engulf the papers in front of him. Todd thought of all the things those papers symbolized to him. His poem- his coming out of the shell, his opening up and declaring his brotherly love for Neil out loud. The first time he had opened his heart- not only to others but to himself as well. The obituary of Mr. Keating's death. A death that meant more than the end of just Mr. Keating's life- that meant to death of the Dead Poets Society and whatever livelihood had been left among the boys. Two papers that should have meant more to him than they did. Should have mean enough to save and not burn. But Todd had set the both on fire, and had smiled as he did it. Todd was not burning paper, and he knew it. He knew that he was burning a part of himself that he did not want to live anymore- the part of him that felt, which dared to dream, that lived life to the fullest, sucking out all the marrow. As the two burned to ashes, a smooth voice wafted from the cave entrance.
"You can't burn your problems, Todd. You can't burn your pain or your memories."
Todd's head shot up and caught a glimpse of amber hair and bright green eyes. Todd let a small gasp and smile meet his lips.