Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Dead Poets Society... I am just inspired by it.

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We get to Welton in plenty of time for the opening ceremonies. I'm glad that it's the juniors who traditionally carry in the banners and all that. I'm not sure I could stand to be called upon to define any of the Four Pillars this year. I sneak a glance over at Todd as Dr. Hager, the oldest staff member, lights the candle of the seventh grader on the first pew, passing the light of knowledge from oldest to youngest in accordance with Dean Nolan's traditional speech. Todd seems a bit tense, but not nearly as strained as I was afraid he would be. After the Four Pillars are defined, the headmaster introduces the new English teacher, Mr. Robert Standish. Like Mr. Keating, he's relatively young, somewhere in his thirties, I think. Unlike Mr. Keating, there's no real character to his face. He's a Columbia man, according to Nolan's introduction, come here from teaching at Hotchkiss in Connecticut.

Father gives Mr. Standish a slightly suspicious look. "I hope this one doesn't try to inspire the boys to anything but their homework assignments," he whispers to Mother. "The last thing Welton needs is another scandal like last year's."

"Shh," Mother replies, although she nods her agreement.

I try not to let my face betray how I feel about Father's words. He doesn't know, I remind myself. He can't know, not now, anyway. Maybe someday I can tell him. But not now. I have to get through senior year first, before I can tell him... well, both of them... anything of real importance to me. Still, I'm glad Todd is on the other side of me, and didn't hear that little exchange.

Following yet another mumbled word or two from Mr. Alexander Carmichael, Jr., class of 1886 and the oldest living Welton graduate, the convocation comes to a close. We all file out of the chapel to say our farewells to our parents. Mother catches Todd unawares, hugging him as well as me, and Father shakes both of our hands. With a final wave, they make their way to the car for their drive home. Todd and I head over to the dorm.

We get our room assignment and bring our luggage upstairs. But before we can decide whether to unpack or go greet friends, Mr. McAllister comes around to send the seniors to Welton Hall for the annual assignment of extracurricular activities. I glance around the Honor Room, noting that our class is slightly smaller than many of the graduating classes I've seen since I've been here. But then again, our class is the first group to have been born during the war. I suppose it stands to reason that many people about the age of our parents didn't have as much opportunity to engage in the begetting of children once the United States got pulled into the war following the Jap attack on Pearl Harbor. There will only be thirty-nine of us graduating this year. Although it should have been forty.

Todd nudges me just then, interrupting my musing. Meeks and Pitts are waving from the far side of the room. We wave back, remaining quiet while Dr. Hager shuffles down the stairs, followed by four young men. "Anderson, Cameron, Dalton, Overstreet," he calls in his dry voice.

Charlie Dalton gives me a brief sneer as we approach the stairs, but schools his face into neutrality as we file into the office. As usual, Dean Nolan is seated with a hunting dog at his side.

"Gentlemen," he greets us with a nod. "Mr. Dalton, welcome back."

Charlie gives a polite nod. "Thank you, sir," he replies.

Nolan looks us over carefully. "You men are familiar with the process by which I assign extracurricular activities," he tells us. "However, the board of governors and I have decided to institute a few changes this year. From now on, each student will be permitted to join one activity of his own choosing. Anyone carrying six or more activities already will be given the option of dropping one to take up one of his own choosing." He gives Charlie a stern look then. "However, the school paper is not an option for you, Mr. Dalton. Not after the way you abused your position there last year."

I can feel Charlie tensing up next to me, but he maintains his neutral expression. "Very well, sir," he answers, his tone as controlled as his face.

The headmaster studies us for a long moment, then gives a nod. "Mr. Dalton: Service Club, rowing, soccer, and what will your choice be?"

"Drama, sir," Charlie replies. It surprises me for a moment. Charlie was the other writer in the Dead Poets Society, the English coach for everyone before Todd came to Welton. Neil was the actor. Then I remember. He's been dating Ginny Danburry, who attends Henley Hall and is involved with the drama club there. By opting for drama, Charlie's giving himself the opportunity to see his girlfriend more often than just on pass weekends.

Nolan nods. "Very well. Drama it is. Mr. Overstreet: Welton Society Candidates, the school paper, Sons of Alumni Club, soccer, and what else?"

"Debate Club, sir," Knox Overstreet requests.

"An excellent choice. Mr. Anderson: Service Club, school annual, soccer, and your choice?"

"Rowing, sir," Todd says firmly.

Nolan nods before shifting his gaze to me. "Rowing it is, Mr. Anderson. Mr. Cameron, you've had Welton Society Candidates, Debate Club, rowing, Service Club, Forensics, and Honor Council. Will you keep them all, or do you prefer to exchange one for something else?"

"I'd like to drop Debate Club for Biology Club, sir," I reply.

Nolan looks surprised at that. "Not quite what I expected of you, but perfectly acceptable," he tells me. "Right, gentlemen, you're dismissed. Make your senior year a successful one."

We file out behind Hager, then gratefully leave Welton Hall for the dorm. Todd decides to break the ice with Charlie. "Is it still Nuwanda?" he asks with a smile as soon as we're away from all teachers.

Charlie gives me a hard look before answering with a question of his own. "Is Cameron going to fink on me if I say yes?"

Todd shakes his head. "Of course not. Didn't Knox tell you anything about last term?"

Knox breaks in then. "I couldn't say as much as I wanted to. They open letters at Choate, he warned me about that right away. And on Fire Island, there was no real getting away from the families. But if we can find somewhere to talk..."

"How about the chapel?" I suggest. "If we sit in the middle, we'll be able to see anyone come in before they're close enough to hear us."

They nod and we change directions to head to the chapel. Charlie looks expectantly at Knox. "Well?" he asks.

"Remember I told you I was writing to the Captain?" Knox asks. At Charlie's nod, he continues. "Well, it was Cameron who got the address for us. He's changed for the better, believe me."

I give Knox a smile as Charlie's jaw drops.