SIX
"So, tell me about Welton."
"You mean Hellton."
They were sitting in a colorful diner with a checkered floor, metal inserts and some rock 'n' roll background music. October wanted to fall on her knees in raptures. Was that heaven? A custom-made heaven for her? Man, she could live in that very place and die there. She was having the most incredible day of her life.
She snickered at the pun, taking a sip of her orange juice.
"Is it that bad?"
"Worse than bad. It's a jail full of rules, and boredom, and lack of freedom, and pricks. You cannot have your own ideas, nor enterprising spirit. You cannot even choose your own extracurricular activities. Any laugh or sigh out of place means a demerit. Can you believe that? It's like they enjoy clipping our wings. We need to sneak out to breathe a bit."
"Sounds like a corral" October recapped.
"Good depiction. And they want us all to be…"
"… Sheep" they said in unison. Charlie smiled at her. She looked outside the window bashfully, before diving into his eyes once again.
"What about sports? Do you play any?"
"Of course. I'm a keeper" he teased, raising his right eyebrow and upper lip twice. She laughed.
"Listen, Dalton, if you want to hang out with me, you better stop acting like a Casanova, unless you really think that could have any effect on me. In that case, you got the wrong girl."
Plus, you don't need to mesmerize me. I'm already messed up, she mentally added, but kept that thought private.
"Alright, alright" Charlie surrendered, raising his palms and grinning. "What do you say we order something else?"
As October nodded, he gestured towards the waitress and, some minutes later, a huge peanut butter milkshake with two straws found its place on the table between them.
"It was no lie, by the way" Charlie resumed after a small taste of the sugary drink. "I'm the goalkeeper on the soccer team. I guess I'm not that bad at rowing, too."
October mentally painted the image of him rowing, and a spurt of heat embellished her cheeks. She coughed to dissimulate.
"And what about the other activities?" she asked, trying the milkshake in turn.
"The dickmaster chooses them" he punned, eliciting a chuckle from her. It was clear by then that she had no problem with his occasional coarse language. "School newspaper and service club are mine, apart from sport."
She focused on what she considered the best part.
"You write articles?"
"Not exactly. I'm one of the proofreaders."
"That means you must be even better than the writers themselves."
Charlie gave a half-smile.
"I'd never seen it that way. Why are you so interested? Is that something you like?"
October practically shone with joy.
"Oh, I love books. Their smell, their texture, their weight in your hands. You can imagine my reaction when I recently got a job at the local library. Literature and poetry are two of my biggest passions. I love losing myself in other worlds. I used to create them when I was younger, too."
"No way…" Charlie began, astounded. And, one hour later, filled with fervency, he had told her everything about his friends, Mr. Keating and the Dead Poets Society, secretly proud of her relish, her intrigued questions, her glowing expression.
"Why did you stop writing?" he asked after his narrative.
October had an unfathomable smile. Charlie got the feeling it was somehow sad, and that she wasn't going to provide a straight answer.
"Let's say that you need some things in order to do other things. You cannot write without a pen, can you?"
She was definitely not talking about an actual pen. Charlie racked his brains to reply properly.
"What if someone gets you a typewriter?"
October stared at him for a while and then a smile blossomed on her lips. It could have been a joke, it could have been a wordplay based on an almost correct deduction: in both cases, he had surprised her. She rested her chin on her hand, slightly shaking her head, and simply kept looking at him with her intense stare. Charlie's heart skipped a beat. He felt like her eyes were brushing his skin. He cleared his throat and took another sip to break the sweet tension.
"What about your previous job?" he tried. She bit her tongue and thought it over.
"Er… Kind of a secretary. I'm… A skilled typist. But tell me more about your passions" she smartly changed the subject, bringing that topic back. "I don't believe you restrict yourself to things someone else has chosen for you."
Charlie's irides twinkled.
"Why not?"
"Oh, please. Take a look at your own eyes. You're like a volcano. I can feel the lava under your skin. You cannot be held back, nor do you want to be. There's too much behind your facade. I dare you to prove me wrong."
He was left speechless for a moment. She was excruciatingly mysterious and yet fucking good at digging in him, and both sides were so addicting. His pupils ran along her face as if to learn her features by heart, get past them, find out what she had inside and completely get lost in her. The desire to open up her mind, and let her pour herself into him as well until they merged into a powerful awareness, was getting stronger by the hour, resulting in a sort of fire in his guts.
He suddenly remembered she was waiting for a reply; so he shook off his daze and lowered his stare, smiling. Thinking about it later, maybe it had been that fire to cause him to blurt it out.
"I'm fond of the saxophone."
October smiled with pride.
"Are you?"
"Yep. My parents made me take the clarinet for years, but I hated it. The saxophone is more…" Vocabulary, Charlie thought. Language was developed to woo women, wasn't it? "… Sonorous, you know?"
October beamed, to Charlie's delight.
"Perfectly. Do you also compose?"
"Sometimes. I'm not that good."
"Bullshit, I bet."
Charlie grinned again.
"You seem enthralled by music, too."
"I love any form of art. Paintings, sculptures. Theater. And music of course. I do love old…" She cleared her throat. "All the genres. You cannot even define it life without music, don't you think?"
Oh, yes. It was his opinion as well. He hadn't been wrong at all when he had regarded her as a kindred spirit. It was like they were endlessly hungry and each could feed the other with a piece of their own essence.
"I do" he murmured. They smiled at each other above the glass, before leaning towards their straws simultaneously.
Charlie had sat her on the crossbar of his bicycle for a slow tour of the park, the dying sun showering down onto them. They had kept on laughing for anything that caught their attention, sharing comments and morsels of childhood. Sitting so close, they had secretly cherished the scent and the heat their bodies gave off, making their souls ignite. He genuinely wanted that afternoon to last forever. But it was scientifically impossible. That was why he was at her doorstep, reluctant to part.
"You know I need to see you again, don't you?" Charlie asked, rhetorically.
October smiled for the umpteenth time that day.
"May I ask you why?"
Charlie stared at her intently.
"Because you're the first to know I play the saxophone."
She beamed, feeling her heart stumble.
"Really? Why?"
He got closer to her, merely inches apart.
"Maybe I'll tell you the next time we meet" he whispered.
She laughed, willfully ignoring the turmoil caused by his proximity, then quickly took off her beret and pushed it against his face, covering it from forehead to chin.
"You're so infuriating."
Charlie promptly swiped her hat, putting it on his own head and taking a few steps back, grinning devilishly.
"Hey! That's mine!"
"True, but now you're bound to go out with me again."
She rolled her eyes, not at all bothered.
"Till next Saturday, then. Same time?"
"How 'bout dining out on Friday?" he offered instead. "I'll be here around six."
October hesitated. "Are you sure you're allowed to…"
"Who cares. Just say yes. Please."
She sighed. It couldn't be worse than usual. After all, he was good enough to get into trouble even without her contribution.
"Deal."
A bubble of triumph and happiness inflated in his chest. He took her hand with his lopsided grin in place and brushed his lips against her knuckles ever so softly. October suppressed a fit of giggles.
"Uh, now don't get all gallant on me."
"C'mon. Don't you like when I'm charming?"
She grinned and pushed him away.
"Just go, before your headmaster starts to think it could be a good idea to get people hanging by their thumbs back in fashion."
Charlie laughed out loud and started leaving.
"Dalton?" she called then.
He stopped and turned, a questioning look on his face.
"I like it best when you're just being yourself."
She never forgot the smile broadening on his lips.
A/N: The dialogue about the extracurricular activities is based on one of the extra scenes, cut from the movie, which you can find online. Check them all out if you haven't yet, they're great!