𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

09. 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔

Monday morning hit you like a bus. Or rather, Monday morning hit you like a bus twice.

Sleep came fitfully, if at all. For most of the night, you were tossing and turning, mumbling verses under your breath to occupy your mind. More than once you rolled over and shot up in bed because you mistook a tree branch under your window sill for a hooded figure coming to take you away to the cave in the woods.

You stared out your window with eyes half-lidded. It was still foggy in the afternoon. Like dawn had never fully passed over the grounds of Welton. You didn't look away from the murky grey lake until you heard two heavy thuds from the front of the classroom, prompting you to jolt up in your seat.

Mr. Keating grinned down at the class from where he stood on top of his long wooden desk. "Why do I stand up here?" He asked, arms outstretched to invite answers.

"To feel taller," Charlie piped up with a lazy chuckle. A few boys who hadn't been at the meeting snorted. Lucky them, to never know what it felt like to trip and fall into a wet ditch in the pitch-black forest after everyone's flashlights had died.

"No. Bzz! Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way." Slowly, to exaggerate the weight of his message, Mr. Keating tucked his hands into his pockets and spun in a tight circle on the desktop. "You see, the world looks very different from up here."

Someone yawned and you realized a moment later that it was Cameron.

"Don't believe me? Come see for yourselves!"

You were already half asleep again when Charlie yanked you to your feet, pulling you up to the front of the classroom where nearly every other boy had lined up behind the desk. The first one to take Mr. Keating up on his offer was Neil—unsurprisingly. He took one quick look around the room, lifting his rounded reading glasses above his eyes, before hopping down with a loud stomp. 

Then went Knox, who didn't bother looking out at all before walking off the side.

"Careful, gentlemen. Special cargo coming through!" Charlie carved a path through your classmates, ushering you to the very front of the line. As gently as you've ever known him to be, he offered you his hand and helped you step up onto the chair before climbing onto the surface of the desk.

You took one sweeping look over the tops of everyone's heads. Charlie was right. You did feel taller. You looked back to your desk, empty and small without you in it, then the window. You could see over the bookshelves in the very back of the room. They were fuzzy and thick with dust on top. You had the subtle urge to draw a face in it.

Just before you considered hopping down, Meeks walked around the side of the desk to offer you his supportive hand. You mumbled your thanks, using your free hand to keep your skirt down as you made your way back to the floor.

The bell rang once you're back safe in your seat and you scurried to collect the rest of your things. It was common courtesy at Welton to wait for the instructor to dismiss you before leaving. As far as you knew, this was the only class that students actually adhered to that unspoken rule.

Keating talked as he packed up his leather briefcase. "...in addition to the essays you were assigned at the beginning of our lesson, I would like you to compose a poem of your very own."

A few people groaned—Pitts shook his head in disbelief and Todd instantly went frigid a few seats up—but your ears nearly pricked up in excitement at the opportunity. Now we're talking, you thought. 

"You will be delivering them aloud next Monday," Keating said, whisking his hand toward the door. "That will be all."

It wasn't until the eight of you were passing under the stone-arch on the edge of the courtyard that you realized Todd was lingering in the far back of the group, not just hiding behind Neil like he usually did when he didn't feel like joining in on the conversation.

You left the others to discuss the new poetry assignment, standing still so that they could pass you and leave you to walk side by side with the boy who barely noticed this until you opened your mouth. "I can tell this assignment scares the hell out of you," you teased.

His entire demeanor jumped and his eyes flickered off of the cobble path to meet yours. "...No it doesn't," he argued meekly. "I'm not...afraid of talking, you know. I just...I just hate it."

"Sure," you said, earning a worried sigh from the boy beside you. Todd's cheeks were reddened by the cold. His entire face was flush and rosy. You wanted to offer him your scarf, but you didn't think potential frostbite would be any worse than the teasing he would endure later from Neil and the others.

"You know I'd beat up any of these guys if they made fun of you."

He laughs and shakes his head, but it's more of a sigh. "No one makes fun of me, (Y/N)." Todd gulps and shrugs his shoulders. "Except maybe Dalton."

You burst into a fit of giggles and Todd finally smiled, reveling in the sound of your laughter. When it was clear that none of the guys had noticed your absence, you stopped walking and turned to address him face on. "I'll bet you're a great writer, Todd." You reached out to brush a bead of rainfall off of his shoulder. "I wish you'd give other people the chance to know that about you."

He smiled timidly and you continued walking, knowing that he would follow you when he was ready. You barely noticed the tips of his ears turn cherry red, but amounted it to the cold. Maybe you should have thought about offering him your earmuffs instead. 

(A/N: I'm updating like every book cause I'm procrastinating working on my Fear Street fic. Enjoy this! This is one of my favorite chapter titles I've come up with so far. Didn't edit this much, but if you see anything wrong feel free to drop a correction in the comments. I love the support this book is getting. Happy reading!)