SEVEN

It had been a warm and crisp afternoon, free from assignments, pain-in-the-ass teachers and fathers' reprimands. The Poets were all gathered in the cave, smoking pipes, each contributing with their own typical self: Knox grieving over Chris, Pitts and Meeks mocking him, Todd being as preponderant as wallpaper, Neil hyping up over a lamp-god and Cameron embezzling ground on the planet. Charlie, on his part, was basking in complete blissfulness. The whole world seemed within reach, as if nothing could dent his positiveness. October had applied a coat of marvel on anything, or maybe just on his eyes. She was filling not only his every thought, but every cell, every emotion, giving him a brand new point of view on himself. She could perceive him. She could see through him. And she could make him feel like he was worthy. That was why, that day, he had his saxophone with him. It was time his closest friends knew he could be as romantic as Knox, as smart as Meeks, as lighthearted as Pitts, as deep as Todd and as creative as Neil. But let's start with being as niggling as Cameron, he thought, chucking pesky notes in the air at random.

"Charlie, whatcha doin'?" someone asked amid the racket, annoyed by their friend's discordant tune.

"What do you say we start this meeting?" Charlie retorted. Then he stood up and cleared his throat, his pulse slightly increasing.

"Gentlemen… Poetrusic, by Charles Dalton."

He began to play erratic sounds on the saxophone, so that the group both groaned and laughed. They needed to recognize him first. Then he started reciting.

"Laughing…", because joy was the spark of life.

"… Crying…", because tears and shouts were the liquid and resounding expression of feelings.

"… Tumbling…" was the actual reason to raise when they scythed your dreams.

"… Mumbling" was all that remained when they ripped your loudness off.

"Gotta do more…", because what he was doing to screw the system was never enough.

"… Gotta be more", for her, with her, thanks to her.

He played more noises, blowing out the matchstick Pitts was using to light his pipe, causing a look of scorn to appear on his friend's face.

"Chaos screaming…", the one he had in his head.

"… Chaos dreaming", the one he wanted for the world to change.

"Gotta do more, gotta be more!" he yelled, pouring his whole heart into it. Then he breathed deeply, drawing inspiration from the beret he had stolen from October, right then adorning his head. He brought the mouthpiece to his lips, starting to play a real instrumental, his eyes closed. It was dejected though contemplative, like a lonely man looking at a starred sky in the dark. It tasted of smoke and lost love, of wind and wasted opportunities, and the twenties, and abandoned garrets, and dim street lamps.

The boys were totally awestruck and speechless. They had never thought their friend could be so un-Charlie-y. He knelt in front of Knox, who was breathing heavier and quicker by the second, visibly overwhelmed with anguish fueled by the melody. It was truly saddening to see one of his best friends in such a mood. He closed his song and ruffled Knox's hair, while the Poets clapped and cheered. They had loved it. He had done it. He felt somehow lighter, as his heartbeat slowed down.

"Wow!" Meeks exclaimed.

"That's great. Where did you learn to play like that?" Neil asked. Charlie had just started to tell them about his clarinet lessons, when a fed-up Knox hurled his pipe in an angry gesture.

"I can't take it anymore" he blurted. "If I don't have Chris, I'm gonna kill myself."

"Knoxious, you've gotta calm down" Charlie admonished.

"No, Charlie. That's just my problem. I've been calm all my life." A knowing smile slowly made its way on Knox's lips, clearly along with some sort of idea forming in his mind. After all, Charlie was venturing to get an apparently out-of-reach woman, why did he have to be such a chicken? "I'm gonna do something about that" he promised, then stood up, about to leave.

"Where are you going?" Neil asked.

"What are you gonna do?" Charlie added.

Knox turned towards them, thrilled.

"I'm gonna call her" he informed them with a rather sinister chuckle. Charlie was so triumphantly happy about his friend showing some guts that he let a new stream of crazy notes fill the air.

"Yaaawp!" Knox shouted, leaning against the wall behind him after having hung up the payphone handset, his eyes glued to the ceiling of the hall. Everybody cheered and Todd proudly smiled, as that yell was a bit of his own.

"Can you believe it?" Knox went on. "She was gonna call me. She invited me to a party with her."

Charlie internally grimaced at that choice of words. She was surely not going to call him, and she definitely didn't invite him to that party with her. He needed to dampen his enthusiasm before he got a kick in the teeth.

"At Chet Danburry's house" he therefore pointed out.

"Yeah" Knox confirmed, still lost in his reverie.

"Well?" Charlie tried again, hoping he could get it.

"So?"

Damn.

"So, you don't really think she means you're going with her?"

Knox snorted. "Well, of course not, Charlie. But that's not the point. That's not the point at all."

Charlie raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What is the point?"

"The point, Charlie…" Knox started to explain, wetting his lips to take time.

"Uh-huh?"

"… Is…"

He clearly had no idea of what to say, but he was too happy not to look on the bright side.

"Yeah?" Charlie urged him, in order to get what his brain was assembling on the matter and possibly open his eyes.

"… That she was thinking about me."

It was such a beautiful statement, so innocent and genuine, and so tender in its simplicity, that Charlie just smiled, followed by the other Poets. Could he actually slow his mate down, when he himself was craving for a certain girl to do nothing more than think about him?

"I've only met her once, and already she's thinking about me. Damn it. It's gonna happen, guys. I feel it."

He made his way through the group of boys with a new confidence in his stance and then spun around on his heels to face them again, a sparkle in his eyes.

"She is going to be mine."

He theatrically flipped his scarf around his neck and started to croon, then headed for the stairs, followed by the pleased glances of his friends.

"Carpe… Carpe!" Neil spurred in a low throaty voice.

Knox was such a good guy he deserved the best and, sooner or later, Chris would come to terms with that, Charlie was sure. He kept his eyes on his friend with a half-smile limned on his face until he was out of sight.

A/N: I tried to deepen the saxophone scene, since it's told from Charlie's point of view. I hope I didn't ruin it :)