Here is another 5,000 word monster of a chapter. I did try to split it into manageable halves this time, but it seemed to loose it's sense of completeness. I really am trying not to make this a habit. If you would prefer reading this in two sittings, I have indicated the most ideal stopping point within the chapter. I hope this helps.
It also has been brought to my attention that Young Gods is currently the FIRST most followed, and THIRD most reviewed & favourited story in the Dead Poets Society category on the FF site. I'm speechless. You are all absolutely incredible!
Thanks to AshleyKless, JenRiley16 and Cyanide Laced for your lovely comments. And Sarah, I'm thrilled to hear that you appreciate the dialogue. I try to match lines with personality and it's a relief to know that it's working! Gueststarring, thank you a million times for bringing me the aforementioned news. Also, it makes my heart sing to know that people spot the literary themes I weave through some of the chapters.
'Tis now the hour
When Contemplation, from her sunless haunts,
The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth
Of unpierc'd woods, where wrapt in solid shade
She mused away the gaudy hours of noon,
And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the sun,
Moves forward; and with radiant finger points
To yon blue concave swell'd by breath divine,
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven
Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of ether...'
~'A Summer Evening's Meditation,' Anna Laetitia Barbauld (1773)*
Chapter Fifty-one - 'Point our path and light us to our home'*
If hope was grounded in letters; then despair resided in numbers. As far as Kathleen was concerned, her covertly concocted theory rang true. Each strike of red ink from Cameron's descending pen dropped like stitches from Madam Defarge's knitting needles, and every circle of ink evoked the puddles of wine and blood in the Dickensian streets of revolutionary France.* Whether she would celebrate with wine or bleed from Nolan's rebuke still remained to be seen, but it was Sydney Carton's words that divined hope in the novel, and now Dickens' words allowed her a hope of getting through the test tomorrow. If Dickens - the respected author - had put such a spin on the fancies residing in her mind than they could hardly be wrong.
"Right," Meeks dropped into a vacant chair with all the drama of a man long harassed. "I have your information."
Kat purposefully kept her eyes on her paper as she lowered her pen to listen, but Cameron must have seen something shift in her expression. He rapped twice on the table between them.
"You forgot to convert the measure again."
"Sorry." She let her chin rest on her left hand as she hunched over the equations again, one eye trained on Meeks as he handed Charlie a blank envelope.
"Is the Science club getting boring, Meeks, or is amateur sleuthing your new hobby?" Knox looked from him, to the blank envelope, to the almost maniacal manner in which Nuwanda tore into it.
"Actually, it's more of a business venture."
"And that's who you choose as your business partner?" The words of mock disbelief left her mouth before she could think. Her eyes widened as they sought Cameron's glare.
"My skills are outstanding!" Charlie's hand flew to his chest in feigned hurt.
"Outstandingly questionable" Meeks muttered, shrugging when his partner's scandalised act resumed. "Unpaid work inspires no loyalty."
"Do you take insults?" He asked brightly as he unfolded the papers.
"Of course." Meeks' sarcasm dropped with his gaze to the papers, "It's not much."
"It's something!"
Neil sighed wearily. "Let's hear it, then."
"So, at eight that morning three boys were seen lingering in the corridor-" Meeks held up a hand. "No, Nuwanda. Two live in the dorm next door and get up early for track practice, the other was Spaz getting his morning allergy pills from Hager."
"Not much?" He repeated flatly, "that was nothing."
"This whole investigation is absurd" Neil tried; his protest drowned by Nuwanda's pursuit of detail. "He said he doesn't have it."
Charlie grinned sharply. "Then Meeks' detective skills will find my poem and Cameron won't have anything to worry about."
Kat leaned in as she slid her work across the table. The angle placed her between the roommates as she shot them equally quelling looks. Neil already held all the tension of a worn-down parent at only three o'clock.
"I still vote for building a polygraph." Pitts flipped to a sketch in the back of his textbook, "it would be so much better than a radio for college admissions."
"No one is forcing anyone to take a lie detector" Neil scolded. The corners of his eyes crinkled, "most of you would never pass."
"O ye of little faith" Kat teased, nodding at Cameron in thanks as he handed her corrections back. She had just reached for her pencil when a shadow fell across the desk. The boys fell quiet.
"Pechman." Knox greeted, sensing the continued resentment towards the boy from members of the science club. He felt some sympathy for him; the crumpled paper in Pitts' fist was a rather aggressive welcome.
He steadily ignored the glares fixed on him. Instead, he turned to face Kat. "Nolan wants to see you."
She blinked. "Oh. Um, thank you."
Pechman made for the door with all the speed of a man chased.
"He can't do that!" Kat jumped as Cameron slammed his workbook shut.
"Cameron, I know your club has sent him to Coventry, but he has to deliver messages from staff."
He paused his tirade. "Not Pechman, Mr Nolan. You have a math test tomorrow and he wants you to run along and sip tea!"
Confusion painted every face in the room as Cameron's speech hit its peak. It was the most rebellious statement Kat had ever heard him make. Laughter threatened to spill from her lips as she relaxed into her seat to watch the reactions his diatribe garnered. Her grandfather's whims could wait, she thought with amusement, what more evidence could she need than Richard Cameron's criticism?
"I never thought I'd see the day that Welton finally cracked him," Knox whispered, his eyes fixed on the show.
"It's more endearing than distressing" she replied, her voice low.
He snorted, covering it with a cough.
"Fascinating" Todd breathed, moving his chair next to hers.
Knox's coughs increased.
"Stop laughing! It's sweet!"
"No offence" said Meeks, peering over his glasses, "but I think Cameron's more concerned about his tutoring credentials."
Kat packed her satchel, rising from her seat reluctantly. "I can't say I mind when his credentials are my grades."
Neil reached out, catching hold of the loose sleeve of her jumper as she stepped around his armchair, "hold on - guys!" He surveyed the group, staring in silence until Charlie stopped gawping at Cameron. "Before you go," he looked briefly back at Kat, "I want to propose a meeting tonight."
"Isn't the play the night after tomorrow night?" Todd asked quietly.
He nodded, "I have to rest the night before and I think a meeting tonight will give me the courage I need, but with the math test-"
"It's fine with me." Kat laid a hand over his wrist and gently teased the fabric from his grip, her eyebrow arching at the tension in his body. "We've had so many late nights that my sleep schedule has adjusted."
"Great," Neil flashed her a reassuring smile as he grabbed Meeks' pen - ignoring his friend's owlish surprise - and scrawled 'IVY' across the back of his left hand in bold, capital letters. "Thanks."
Knox squinted at the slanted letters. "Ivy?"
"Prop collection."
Still laughing at Meeks' stupefied acceptance of the whirlwind theft, Kat took the final steps out of the common room. As the door slammed shut on Neil's plans the school seemed to spring to life in the dim, placid space. Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairwell; others from creaking floorboards behind the doors she passed. Each creak seemed intensified by blurring bodies darting in and out, their voices low and muffled by the moving slabs of wood.
The surging current ebbed into a faint whisper as she emerged by Nolan's office. Knocking thrice Kat gained entry; her left hand smoothing down flyaway hairs while her eyes swept the familiar den for the metaphorical beast of the abode.
Kat stopped abruptly as a neatly dressed woman stepped out from the attaching dining room. The woman's lips pulled back into a wide smile, her posture unwavering as she held out a hand to Kat. She took it hesitantly, careful not to crease the sleeves of the stranger's cream blouse.
"Sorry, I was looking for my grandfather, Mr Nolan. I was under the impression that he was expecting me."
"You are exactly where you are needed," the woman said warmly, guiding her towards the set table. "I am Mrs Hurst. Your grandfather has booked you in for an etiquette lesson with me this afternoon." Mrs Hurst gestured towards the tea spread. "Our lesson is a gift, Miss Murray. I am told that you were an exquisite hostess to the Van der Gardes. I am here to polish any edges and ensure that you do not fall behind during your term away from St. Mary's."
Kat sunk into the indicated chair. The knowledge settled like a stone in her stomach. Retribution. She had been foolish to think her comments were forgotten. Even in his absence, her grandfather had managed to exceed her already low expectations.
"There is no need to worry," Mrs Hurst brushed back an imaginary loose strand from her perfectly coiffed blonde hair. "It is natural to feel concerned about an occasion as grand as the annual Welton Christmas party, but I can assure you that our two hours are more than sufficient. You will shine!"
"Of course," Kat folded her hands neatly upon her lap. She hoped it would hide their trembling, "Thank you."
Half anger; half worry, she lost herself in the affable cadence of Mrs Hurst's voice. The starched table linens, the polished silver, the sound of controlled breaths, and the straight-backed chairs were so feared and familiar in Kathleen's mind, these elements of a code, an unspoken language ingrained from her fading girlhood. And she hated it.
Enough time had been wasted on invitation writing and afternoon teas with dreary boys and their fathers. No pulse existed in this vast and empty room, yet it felt stifling. Slowly she raised the teacup, her muscles taught with betrayal.
Untethered to all but numb endurance, two hours slipped by with instructions to offer dessert from the left, and adjustments made to her body as if she were a living doll in scenario after scenario until at last, Mrs Hurst beamed proudly at the results of her efforts.
It was only at her tutor's leave that her grandfather appeared by the dying fire. He stood upright, shining in the fading glare like a scissor edge; his jaw the adjacent blade suspended over her hopes.
"Well done" he began, "you are a true credit to your Grandmother, and yourself as the future approaches."
"My future," she said quietly, "is at university. No female boarding house requires these lessons."
"Etiquette forms habits that will not be ironed out," Nolan continued, "no matter the influences that may surround you. Welton moulds boys; the Ivy leagues polish them. Such truths, however unsavoury, are clear from your outburst. Arguments embarrass young men, Kathleen. The students you debate in class will not be your audience forever."
Her cheeks burned. The heat snapped her fraying control like a rubber band. "Are you asking that I refrain from embarrassing you by expressing my opinions? That I to do nothing but smile and run after your guests at soirées?"
Her grandfather's eyes hardened. "You will behave exactly as you have this afternoon."
"Like someone else?" She bit out, certain that her voice sounded strangled.
His thin frown turned more thoughtful than irritated. "It is time to grow out of these silly notions, Kathleen. Adults have responsibilities. I suggest that you find some gratitude for these opportunities. I am not indifferent to your difficulties as a young lady of society raised wild in the countryside."
Kat focused on the glint of the metal telephone on his desk, and the tang of smoke from the fire. She allowed the glare to burn the tears threatening the last of her restraint. She allowed them to reroute her thoughts to another life, a parallel life within these same walls. She thought of a life wrapped up in a boy with warm eyes and no sense and a worrying amount of courage, a sum so singular that it took her breath away.
Nolan's shoulders dropped with his last piercing words, mollified by her silence.
XXXX
Kat wandered like ghost though the hollow stone halls. Outside, the snow fell thick. It glimmered in the pale light of the large window, cutting through the greyness which drenched the top of the main staircase. Watching it made her feel mindless - an unusually welcome feeling - as she stood by the glass. She pressed her forehead to the windowpane - a fragile film joining the ice in her veins with the enormity of the cold, white expanse stretching beyond the coated trees.
Squinting through the breathy fog, an array of black dots danced into her vision. Kat raised her hands to trace their path. The dots moved closer. Her eyes focused, regaining their gleam as the dots transfigured into boys wrapped tight in navy wool. They darted from the stone walls to homemade forts, all embroiled in a snowball battle. Rolling up onto her tiptoes, Kat watched a tall figure whip off the hat of another, his mussed brown hair blowing loose. With a wild laugh, she abandoned the high window and rushed down the stairs to find the cloakroom. All of her renewed decorum deserted her as she hastily pulled on her own hat and gloves.
Her Mother's distant reproofs rang through Kat's mind as she flung open the external door, all buttons hanging free on the open sides of her coat. Her boots slapped the icy steps and slid precariously off the final block. Unheeded, Kat scooped up a handful of snow to weld by hand into weapons as she crept around the corner, locking eyes on the hatless teen. With a final breath of prickling air, she launched the crude munition.
WHACK.
Knox pivoted, his right-hand clutching at his forearm. She grinned, bringing her gloved hand up into a wave. The distraction cost him. In a split-second, his shoulder absorbed a further blow.
Gasping, Kat darted away from a succession of hits aimed by Knox's second attacker.
Pitts disappeared behind a rudimentary snow fort by the boathouse. Meeting Knox's eyes with a nod, she edged back around the building. Globes of snow rolled between her gloves as she moved, stinging her skin through the wet material. By the time he joined her, a sufficient pile had grown by her feet. Biting back his glee, Knox counted back from three.
With arms full they charged. Ferocious screams tore from their throats, an anthem of untamed rapture, raw and free. The scattered party ducked and dived under the fire; a few brave creatures rushing on through the fusillade.
SPLAT.
Kat took a chilling blow to the knee. Dropping her final rounds, she dodged another attack and took shelter behind Knox. He swore as the last snowball left his hands, one arm pushing his companion further behind him as Charlie closed in, Todd in tow.
"Where's Neil?" Knox asked, his eyes bouncing frantically between their competitors and the empty landscape.
"Defeated," Todd beamed, high-fiving Charlie without the latter's eyes leaving the duo edging back.
Kat peeked around Knox's arm, "well played."
"Don't congratulate the enemy!"
"Yeah," Charlie smirked, "join us."
She shook her head, pulling Knox a further step back as she reached for the bushes behind. "Never," she shot back, feeding a hastily formed snowball into the taller boy's hands. Like clockwork, they fired, and split off into a run.
"No!" Kat shrieked as an arm caught her waist.
"VICTORY!" Charlie slammed Knox into the cushion of snow, sinking down as his fist punched the air. Kat felt the biting cold as Todd pulled her to the ground. Laughing, they rolled onto their backs, arms automatically flung out to form snow angels as the stragglers sprawled out around them to catch their breath.
"What did Nolan want?" Todd's chest heaved as he turned his head to face her, his arms ceasing all motion. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She grimaced. "No, thank you."
"You know, you're not obligated to be polite once you've escaped Nolan's presence" called Nuwanda.
"Ironically, I am." She laughed miserably, "it was a two-hour etiquette lesson to rein in my behaviour."
Neil shot up, hands smacking down onto the snow. "No way!"
"Yes, really. He critiqued my unruly upbringing. Apparently, I should be grateful for his schemes." She tilted her chin upward, cheeks flushed below the cold glow of the paling sun. "I think he'd love me more if I were Catherine Earnshaw, remoulding myself in misery."
He flicked snow at her, "you could never love someone like Linton for material gain, nor anyone as cruel as Heathcliff. The comparison is all wrong!" Neil fixed a stern gaze on the girl lying across from him, speaking as if each word could command her blurring edges into focus. "And never mind dying to spite everyone, you'd kill them first."
"Are you suggesting I murder my way out of this predicament?"
"I could never condone breaking the law!" Neil exclaimed, his words contradicted by their mocking undertone.
"Only forgery," Todd mumbled.
"And trespassing," Charlie added brightly.
"Well, there's no reasoning with him so I may as well take advantage where I can." She smiled softly at Neil, the action lightening a few of the lines almost permanently carved into his forehead these days. "Just promise me that you'll all keep me busy at the Christmas party. I doubt my parents are willing to suffer Nolan's presence long enough to stay for it, but there's always the chance of a Christmas miracle."
"If not, you only have to endure Nolan for another week or so," Pitts chucked a snowball into the air and caught it with a grin. "You'll finally be free."
"I guess so," she agreed quietly. Her stomach flipped with homesickness not only for her family, but for her life with these boys, Keating, and the club.
"We should have a meeting tonight" Neil called, "it would cheer you up."
Kat rolled her eyes, "as if we need an excuse."
But Neil caught the rising pitch of delight in her voice and he reached out to curl his hand into Todd's as they lay in the snow. Under all this warmth of love and camaraderie, and under the blanket of dusk weaving shades of violet and rose through the world, the seven teenagers breathed as one unit, one heart, and one dream as they pressed back into the poetry of the earth.
XX BREAK XX
"Have you tried the inside pocket?"
"Yes, Knox. Twice." Kat heard the frustration bleeding into Neil's tone as she searched her own inside coat pocket. Still no hat. She spared a glance at her equally puzzled companion who had resorted to shaking out his coat.
"Oh, no." Neil dropped the garment with a curse, "it's still in my desk."
"To be clear," Nuwanda spoke from his post by the cloakroom door, "you left the book of verse, which is both essential for the meeting, and exactly what the teachers need to shut us down, in the science lab?"
Neil nodded grimly.
"Great." He let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, "just checking."
"Keep your voices down" Cameron hissed, pulling the knot in his scarf tighter. "It's not midnight yet, the staff could still be on patrol!"
"I can't find my hat," Kat pushed a hand into her hair. "I swear I hung it up to dry when we got back from the snowball battle."
"You did." Todd said quietly. He paced the edges of the room, "it was on the radiator by mine."
Knox poked his head around the door, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. "We can't have the meeting without the book and we're making too much noise to stick around. We have to get moving."
"There's no sense in everyone hanging around and getting caught" Kat agreed, dropping to her knees and reaching an arm under the radiator. Her hand scrabbled blindly underneath it for a few seconds. "Someone can stay here with me and we'll get the book once I've found this stupid hat."
"It's risky" Neil warned."
"So is life" she shrugged, reaching under the next radiator, "and catching hypothermia."
"I can stay," Charlie volunteered with a small shrug. "What's one more detention to me?"
"and me," Knox inclined his head.
"Two is risky enough."
Knox looked at Nuwanda for a long moment, almost as if he were studying a map. "Alright," he nodded, "we'll see you there."
Returning to her task, Kat barely noticed the boys file out. They truly had learnt to lighten their footsteps, she thought, tossing her loose hair over her shoulder for an unobstructed view under a bench.
"Where the hell is it?" Charlie batted at the coats, the light force of his hands propelling them forward in a motion akin to jumps to and fro on their hooks.
Her mouth spread into a smile. "I don't think violence will tempt it out of hiding."
"You willing to make that a bet?"
"I would" she said, sliding her hand from under another bench, "but that'd be unfair."
Something in her tone must have alerted him; there was no casual way to turn that quickly. Kat let the woollen accessory dangle from her ring finger.
"You could've scammed me out of a dollar." He strode towards the door and held it open for her.
She scanned the dark hallway before stepping out. "I'm sure the opportunity will arise again."
They set off carefully up the staircase, pausing for a minute of hushed debate before selecting the shorter route up to the science corridor. The dullness of the empty halls contained a sense of unreality. Dust and shadows blurred the watchful portraits lining the walls, and their tread became almost careless on the newer floorboards so far from the dormitories that the silence swelled to fill even the most haunting cracks in the mansion.
Nuwanda reached out for the door handle.
In the frosted window inches above the handle she spotted a sleepily distant light. Almost like...a burning gas lamp reflected in the window.
Kat started forward, grabbing wildly for his arm as the door swung open. She yanked him back, swaying sideways with the motion of his unexpected shift in gravity. He stared at the hand latched onto his elbow. His brow furrowed as he looked from the tight grip, to her panicked face, and over to the teacher sleeping over a stack of papers on the desk. Eyes wide, they took a step back.
Their shoes hit the loose metal bar at the threshold with a low clang.
The man shot up. His head swung to take in his surroundings, and the two figures bolting from the doorway.
Charlie swore as they hurtled into the darkness. Heavy footsteps stumbled into the narrow passage behind them. The frantic duo barely turned the corner without crashing, their dread building as the thudding steps gained on them in proximity as well precision.
Suddenly, a familiar landmark came into view - the old grandfather clock. Kat made a sharp turn, cutting across Charlie's path and pulling him into the hidden alcove behind the bulky, six-foot clock. He opened his mouth, but she clamped a hand over it, pleading silently until she felt him nod in understanding.
His arms tightened around her body. One hand gripped her right arm and the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him as they shrunk back into the shadows, adrenaline coursing through their veins. Her fingers interlocked with his around her bicep, and her left hand clasped his wrist. She felt the rapid flutter of his pulse jump as the footsteps neared.
They passed.
Tension held court for several minutes. Locked in on the oppressing stillness they waited and waited but the teacher made no return. Slowly, their shallow breaths slipped into deeper gulps for air. Kat's melting stress - a movement Nuwanda felt from the press of her shoulder to his chest down to his fingertips still wrapped in hers - brought a clarity so laughingly inconvenient that it ached.
"What kind of relic still uses gas lamps?" He asked, strenuously casual. "Is he too pretentious for electricity?"
She let out a breathless laugh. "Perhaps it's the ambiance."
"Ambiance is not recreating the Victorian age. Ambiance is candles."
Kat moved to glance up at him, almost hitting her elbow in the confined space.
"Is it safe enough to leave?"
Shaking her head, Kat paused to listen out for movement before she spoke. "He'll be back to turn off the gas lamp."
"No meeting for us, then."
"We could be cautiously optimistic" she replied, the inflection teasing.
"Me? Cautious? That would be disingenuous."
She squeezed their joined hands as she grinned. "I promise to never tell Neil."
"It might be worth it to see Cameron's shock." He scanned the nook, noting the tattered cushions propped up against the wall, so close in the tiny space that the fabric almost brushed his heel. "How do you know about this place?"
"We could be here while. Let's figure out how to sit and I'll tell you?"
He nodded. They stepped apart and both of their backs hit the closest wall. Shoulder to shoulder, they sank to the ground, so close that Kat would be in his lap if she were any bigger. In the low light, she could only hope for her blush to be indiscernible. Shuffling slightly to hug her knees, she told him about finding this place after wandering off as a child. Soon, her whispered childhood tales shifted into an admission of her hibernation the day after Chris' party. His rapt attention could be felt through every chuckle or sharp breath as she pointed out her hidden book and candle or told of long-forgotten tears shed away from Nolan's rage.
"Last night, Cameron mentioned something" Charlie said, breaking the lull in conversation. He kept his voice even, "about the way I treat people, and those girls at the meeting. About you."
Her chin snapped up, but his eyes remained fixed on his steepled knees. Cameron's words from outside the Chapel began to fit together in a pattern that made her indescribably angry. She took a breath, careful to keep her voice firm as it softened. "That night in the cave may not have been your best, but I have never known you to be the person Cameron sees."
"But what if, hypothetically, Cameron's right?" He tugged at his collar; the motion awkward in contrast to the worn cotton of his pyjama shirt.
Her eyes sought his. "He isn't."
"I didn't want to assume."
"You don't, not after that first incident with Fraser. You listened to me when I got upset that you didn't ask before starting a rumour about us. "
"That was a long time ago."
She shook her head, "it seems that way, but it's only been a couple of months." Kat's eyes locked onto the coloured fragments in the window, "what I'm trying to say is that you are one of the few people who doesn't insist they know best until I have no control over my life. Not only did you listen when I said I didn't like it, you apologised, and never did it again. It doesn't matter that you make a lot of mistakes because you never repeat them. You care about autonomy, freedom, and people for who they are, not who you want them to be."
It was his turn to fix his eyes on her, bewildered by the simplicity of his act and the magnitude of the resultant affection in her honeyed tone.
"It's one of the reasons why I l-" she stumbled, "why I trust you so much. I don't understand why you seem so baffled by the notion."
He shrugged.
Emboldened by the swirling darkness, she let her words swell with the very infusion of her unbridled stare. "Don't listen to Cameron. From what I've heard you've defended Meeks for years, you stayed up with Knox when he was the sick the night of the party, and it's just what you do. You're always looking out for us. Besides, Todd likes you and he doesn't befriend people lightly."
His arm tightened around her waist, and if she didn't know better, she would've sworn his eyes glimmered for a moment in the near darkness. Sedentary and solitary, all they could do was breathe in the scent of dust and daring in the glacial night, waiting and waiting for the augured change. He leaned closer; his chin downturned in the turbid light. The silk of her nightshirt rustled against his woollen coat; her cheek a whisper across his shoulder as she tilted her face upward to meet his darkened gaze.
"Kat?" Her blood surged; her breath pulled taut by the thread of something through the appellation that she wanted desperately to both wrap around her name for an eternity, and to unpick until it lay exposed at her fingertips, at their fingertips.
She exhaled. "Yes."
A tap, tap, tap underscored the weight of the word as it fell into the hair's breadth between them. The tapping grew louder, and more demanding as it absorbed the weight of the moment. They startled, flinching as if awakened from a dream.
Beyond the clock, the footfalls paused. A click sounded, and they returned with a glow that flung light around the edges of the alcove. They ducked forward, freezing behind the furniture until the activity dwindled into silence.
Cautiously, Kathleen peeked out. "Oh, thank God."
"Thanks, but I prefer Nuwanda."
She glared at him, refusing to dignify his remark with a response.
With inappropriate levity, he strode over to the empty classroom.
"You really do have a death wish," she muttered, her mouth twisted somewhere between a grimace and a smirk. Keeping careful watch on the door, she followed.
"Aha!" He retrieved the book with a flourish, waving it above his head as he shut the lid to Neil's desk.
With one last glance at the empty hall, Kat crossed the room and plucked it from his grip. A red bookmark slipped from the top as she flicked through its pages. Indulging in her curiosity, she scanned the words of Emily Dickinson's 'Beside the Autumn poets sing.'
He pointed to the teacher's desk "Before we go-"
"No," she protested in a whisper; taking his hand and dragging him out. "We've pushed our luck as far as I dare for one night."
He laughed under his breath as she marched him back into the fateful corridor. Loosening her grip, she moved to drop his hand - but it remained firm.
Kat ventured a subtle glance at him, keeping her steps in rhythm. He stared ahead, all but a flicker of something remained unreadable in his expression.
The night was frozen by the time they slipped out of the back door. Treading carefully, they descended the shaded steps. From the frosted lawn the mansion stood tall, orange illuminating a third-floor window. Exchanging a hurried look, they broke into a run, their feet sinking into the snow.
The beat of the forest - their footfalls, the owls, and the branches swish - inspired the notes of reverence and gratitude which lingered in the tune of these nights. As Kat slipped beneath the arching entrance, a lilting chant intermingled with the cool night air. Her cheeks flushed as she drew closer, holding the book of verse up in triumph as Charlie announced the near-miss of their return.
Voices battled for the floor as the story unfolded. Knox draped a scarf around her as the pair squeezed onto a log, their smiles warmed from the inside; fanning flames higher than the burning fire at their feet.
* Madam Defarge, Revolutionary France, Sydney Carton - A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens (1859)
* Catherine Earnshaw - Reference to 'Wuthering Heights,' Emily Bronte (1847)
* 'Beside the Autumn poets sing,' Emily Dickinson (1859)