Warning: This chapter is all about the punishment scene, which is fully described. So, if you're uncomfortable with such matters, please refrain from reading.
TWENTY
Charlie was standing in the bright room, his hands behind his back, calmly waiting for the verdict. Right after his stunt, the headmaster had spat that he wouldn't be mocked by him and immediately summoned the troublesome student. Knox and Neil had tried to talk to him, but he had headed straight towards Nolan's office. The sooner he got that over with, the better.
He gazed at the windows in front of him. How inconsistent. Such pure light in such a dark place. And how thin was that glass? Mere inches between him and the fresh air, the oxygen, the wind. The scent of greenery. The taste of freedom. The illusion of a world where everybody was free to do whatever they wanted as long as they didn't do any harm to their neighbor.
He was torn away from his reverie by the door, loudly bumping as Mr. Nolan shut it. Here we go, he thought. In the belly of the beast. He fantasized about a monstrous three-headed Nolan and smirked.
The old man slowly walked his way to the desk, turning around to face the boy. He looked at him with deep contempt. Filthy pest. He was, just like any other student under his administration, nothing but a filthy pest. He loathed them, he had always loathed them. Even when he himself was a teacher. He loved that job for its inherent power to shape young minds, not for the children themselves. The children were scum. Pimply idiots unable to do anything but stir up trouble. But he knew how to straighten them out.
"Wipe that smirk off your face" he demanded. Charlie complied, closing his eyes for a moment to roll them behind his eyelids, internally snorting, and tightened his lips.
"If you think, Mr. Dalton, that you're the first to try to get thrown out of this school, think again" the man stated. He sized him up in a patronizing manner. Filthy pest. I'll squash you. "Others have had similar notions and have failed just as surely as you will fail."
Charlie briefly cast a challenging and hateful glance at him. Do it. Squash me. I'll make it anyway. Things will change. The world will change. It has to.
"Assume the position."
Charlie's guts clenched unpleasantly. He had expected the usual demerit-and-detention combination – getting expelled would have been too optimistic. But that… Everybody knew that Nolan still cherished corporal punishment, thinking it could be useful to gain obedience. Bullshit. He just enjoyed inflicting pain. Sadistic asshole. And in his whole academic career, Charlie had always managed to dodge it. He had even come to think it was just a rumor. For a fraction of a second, he felt his presence of mind fail him. He pictured October, so sad and disappointed, and his father, gloating at his downfall. He felt he could just break down there and then. But he couldn't. He was better than that. He was stronger than that. Nolan was the weak, not him. What a debatable way to punish. What an archaic way to deal with things. He was disappointed. He was…
He bent over the desk, flipped his jacket over and rested his hands on the surface, staring at the windows again. The thin glass. The oxygen. I'm the one who is disappointed. I'm strong. It won't hurt. It won't last long. I'll be out in no time.
The man fetched a flat wooden paddle. It was holed. To avoid the drag force. To beat effortlessly. He hit his own hand with it as if to test its hardness, getting ready to strike, savoring the moment. He unbuttoned his right cuff for a better motion.
"Count aloud, Mr. Dalton" he ordered. He wanted him to be fully aware of his punishment. Filthy pest. You'll yield.
Charlie pressed his lips together to prevent them from shaking. His heart was beating wildly, like a terrified baby bird yearning to fly away.
I'll be out in no time.
The time froze and condensed, collapsing on itself.
I won't collapse. I'm strong.
The worst part was ignoring the exact moment he would get the blow, but that stubborn mantra seemed to offer enough distraction to his otherwise screaming mind.
I'm the one who is disappointed. It won't…
Thwack.
He shut his eyes. The burning was intense, but all in all bearable, and it subsided rather quickly. It doesn't hurt.
"One."
Thwack.
The second had been too close. He hadn't expected it. The pain got sharper and lasted a little longer. I'm strong. I'm strong.
"Two" he counted, fainter than before.
Mr. Nolan was incredulous. They usually caved in at the very first strike, or cried at least. This scumbag was a tough cookie. Or was he softening? He glanced at the boy's face, in search of some sign of weakness. Maybe he had to be more vigorous.
Thwack.
Charlie gritted his teeth and swallowed, shaking his head and trying to stay self-aware. He opened his mouth to utter the next number, but the pangs of suffering had become violent and spreading. It won't last long. C'mon.
"Three" he squeaked.
The man was pissed at that point. He struck again, harder than before, his features contorted with rage.
I'll be out in no time. The world will change.
Thwack.
"Four… Uh."
Charlie's voice cracked as he grunted. His flesh was throbbing. He hoped his skin wouldn't split open.
Thwack.
He grimaced in excruciating pain. He suddenly realized he couldn't really bear that. Stop. Please. Please. Stop.
"Five" he blurted out of his clenched teeth. He kept his eyes shut tight that time, as if doing so would ease the ache.
"What is this Dead Poets Society?" the man asked out of the blue. "I want names."
Bastard. He had waited for him to be in agony before shooting the question. Before trying to convince him to fink. Just as October had presumed. October…
Thwack.
He had made a promise.
Thwack.
To her.
Thwack.
To himself.
Thwack.
To his Poets.
Thwack.
One of his knees gave out and he lost his balance. He gripped the edge of the desk with one hand, the other one brushing the rug he had found himself staring at. A single tear ran on his cheek to the corner of his lips, where he licked it away. He slowly put both hands on the floor, breathing deeply. Maybe the coolness could pass from his palms through his veins to the lower part of his body.
The headmaster was torn between triumph and fury. He wondered if hitting him on other parts could be more productive, but thought twice. He didn't want to get fired, after all.
"The names, Mr. Dalton" he insisted. Since the boy remained silent, he got down on one knee to be at his eye level and tugged at his hair, forcing their eyes to lock.
"So?"
Charlie kept his face blank. Only his irides were shaking pools of hateful light.
"Charles Oscar Dalton. Charlie. Char. Slick. Ace. Darlie. Nuwanda" he listed. "It's me. It's always been me and always will be."
The headmaster clenched his jaw and abruptly released his grip, fuming. He stood up and turned around his desk to sit. He put his glasses on and collected some scattered paper sheets, tapping their edges on the surface to align them. Filthy pest. I'll show you.
"It being understood that your confession and apologies are expected and not only as a way for you to cease or entirely avoid what you're about to hear, you're on disciplinary probation for the rest of the year, Mr. Dalton. You'll do work duty every afternoon and every Saturday. You're relieved of your proofreading activities. And, if you set foot off campus, you'll be expelled. Now get out of my sight."
A/N: You have no idea how anxious this chapter made me! It's a thorny scene and I don't think it can be made light of. So I truly hope I was able to do it proper justice without adding too much unneeded drama.
I sourced again from the third draft of the screenplay for Mr Nolan indirect line He wouldn't be mocked by him (the original one being I will not be mocked, Mr Dalton) and for the final verdict: in the original intent, this would have been Todd's chastisement (all but the schoolpaper part) for his refusal to sign the paper to kick Mr Keating out.
In this regard, since Charlie doesn't sign it, we don't know his middle name (unless I missed it), so I made it up. I browsed through some lists of old male names from high society: I liked Oscar most, and I for one found it oddly fitting :)