landslide, neil perry

six.

"could you please not?" celia asked, turning in her seat to look at charlie, who had his feet propped on the top of his desk. the act wouldn't have minded the girl, if not for him using the vantage point to tap his feet on the back of her head.

the boy laughed. "sorry, i would 'not', my dear cel-lion, if not for the fact that it is so fun to see you get so angry about it."

she groaned, turning back around in her seat. she didn't miss neil's eyes on the interaction, and his chuckle and smile at her dramatic reaction.

the entire day had been slightly different than normal since her chat with neil on the rooftop. the two had seemingly connected over something other than poetry, which had before been their main similarity. celia felt that she had peeled back a layer to this seemingly happy-go-lucky boy, and that she was finally uncovering a level of trust with him.

"a man is not very tired," her father was saying in the front of the room when she started paying attention again, "he is exhausted. and don't use very sad, use-" he pointed to the back of the room. "come on, mr. overstreet, you twerp."

"morose?" knox said, clearly unsure of his answer.

"exactly!" the teacher praised. "morose. now, language was developed for one endeavor, and that is? mr. anderson? come on! are you a man or an amoeba?" todd looked up nervously, but didn't respond. "mr. perry?" keating offered, turning to the other side of the room.

neil looked up. "uh, to communicate." he guessed.

"no!" keating replied. "to woo women." celia rolled her eyes as she heard charlie laughing behind her. "today we're going to be talking about william shakespeare." the collective groan didn't seem to surprise her father. "i know. a lot of you looked forward to this about as much as you look forward to root canal work. we're gonna talk about shakespeare as someone who writes something very interesting. now, many of you have seen shakespeare done very much like this: 'o titus, bring your friend hither.'" he spoke dramatically, holding his arm out. "but if any of you have seen mr. marlon brando, you know, shakespeare can be different." he prepared for another impression. "'friend, romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.' you can also imagine, maybe, john wayne as macbeth going, 'well, is this a dagger i see before me?'"

the students all were dying of laughter, and neil turned in his chair to look at celia. "does he always do impressions like this?" he asked.

she laughed, nodding her head. "you should hear him read children's books; i'm still haunted by the memory of his animal noises."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

after a class of reading and impressions, keating jumped onto his desk. "why do i stand up here?" he asked. "anybody?"

"to feel taller." charlie replied.

"no!" keating rang the bell on his desk with his foot before continuing. "thank you for playing, mr. dalton. i stand upon my desk to remind yourself that we must constantly look at things in a different way." he glanced around the room. "you see, the world looks very different from up here. you don't believe me? come see for yourself. come on. come on!"

charlie and neil were the first up from their seats, and celia followed them to the front of the classroom as they climbed onto the desk. celia took neil's hand to help herself up, taking a look around the room before hopping down.

"just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try! now, when you read, don't just consider what the author thinks. consider what you think." keating told them. "boys, you must strive to find your own voice. because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. thoreau said, 'most men lead lives of quiet desperation.' don't be resigned to that. break out!"