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that?”
    “Didn’t you hear Keating say women swooned!”
    “But why?” Knox asked, still uncertain.
    The group started to break up, and Knox followed Charlie toward the dorm.
    “Why do they swoon, Charlie? Tell me, why do they swoon?” Knox’s question remained unanswered when off in the distance a bell rang, summoning the boys to dinner.
    After dinner, Neil and Todd went to study hall and sat down at a table together.
    “Listen,” Neil said to his roommate in a hushed voice. “I’m inviting you to the society meeting.” Neil had noticed that no one had asked Todd if he was in. “You can’t expect everybody to think of you all the time. Nobody knows you. And you never talk to anyone!”
    “Thanks,” Todd said, “but its not a question of that.”
    “What is it then?” Neil asked.
    “I—I just don’t want to come,” he stammered.
    “But why?” Neil asked. “Don’t you understand what Keating is saying? Don’t you want to do something about it?” Neil quickly turned a page in his book as a study proctor walked by, eyeing the boys suspiciously.
    “Yes,” Todd whispered, after the proctor was out of earshot. “But …”
    “But what, Todd? Tell me,” Neil begged.
    Todd looked down. “I don’t want to read.”
    “What?” Neil looked at him incredulously.
    “Keating said everybody took turns reading,” Todd said. “I don’t want to do it.”
    “God, you really have a problem, don’t you?” Neil shook his head. “How can it hurt you to read? I mean, isn’t that what this is all about? Expressing yourself?”
    “Neil, I can’t explain it.” Todd blushed. “I just don’t want to do it.”
    Neil shuffled his papers angrily as he looked at Todd. Then he thought of something. “What if you didn’t have to read?” Neil suggested. “What if you just came and listened?”
    “That’s not the way it works,” Todd pointed out. “If I join, the guys will want me to read.”
    “I know, but what if they said you didn’t have to?”
    “You mean ask them ?” Todd’s face reddened. “Neil, it’s embarrassing.”
    “No, it’s not,” Neil said, jumping up from his seat. “Just wait here.”
    “Neil,” Todd called, as the proctor turned and gave him a disapproving look.
    Neil was off before Todd could stop him. He slumped miserably in his seat, then opened his history book and began to take notes.

C HAPTER 7
    Neil talked in low tones to Charlie and Knox in the dorm hall as the evening parade of prebedtime activity went on around them. Boys moved about the hallway in pajamas, carrying pillows under one arm and books under the other. Neil threw his towel over his shoulder, patted Knox on the back, and headed toward his room. He tossed the towel aside and noticed something on his desk that wasn’t there before.
    He hesitated momentarily, then picked up an old, well-worn poetry anthology. He opened it and, inside the cover, written in longhand, was the name “J. Keating.” Neil read aloud the inscription under the signature. “Dead Poets.” He stretched out on his bed and began skimming the thin yellowed pages of the old text. He read for about an hour, vaguely aware of the hallway sounds quieting down, doors slamming shut, and lights being turned off. There goes Dr. Hager; he’s still up, Neil thought, hearing the resident dorm marshal shuffling up and down the hallway, making sure all was quiet. He seemed to stop right in front of Neil’s closed door.
    “Quiet,” Dr. Hager said aloud, shaking his head. “Too quiet.”
    Several hours later, certain that everyone was deep in sleep, the boys met at the gnarled old maple tree. They had bundled themselves in winter hats, coats, and gloves, and a few of them had brought flashlights to guide the way. “Gggrrr!” The sound of the school hunting-dog startled them as he sniffed his way out of the bushes.
    “Nice doggie,” Pitts said, stuffing some cookies in his mouth and leaving a pile of them on the ground. “Let’s move