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and a scarf, walking across the
lawn with an arm full of books.
    “Mr. Keating?” Neil
called after him. “Sir? O Captain! My Captain?” Keating stopped and waited for
the boys to catch up with him. “What was the Dead Poets Society, sir?” Neil
asked. For a split second, Keating’s face reddened. “I was just looking in an
old annual,” Neil explained, “and...” I
    “Nothing wrong with
research,” Keating said, regaining his composure.
    The boys waited for
him to say more. “But what was it?” Neil pressed.
    Keating looked
around to make sure that no one was watching. “A secret organization,” he
almost whispered. “I don’t know how the present administration would look upon
it, but I doubt the reaction would be favorable.” His eyes scanned the campus
as the boys held their breaths. “Can you boys keep a secret?” They nodded
instantly. “The Dead Poets was a society dedicated to sucking the marrow out of
life. That phrase is by Thoreau and was invoked at every meeting,” he
explained. “A small group of us would meet at the old cave, and we would take
turns reading Shelley, Thoreau, Whitman, our own verse—and the enchantment of
the moment let it work its magic on us.” Keating’s eyes glowed, recalling the
experience.
    “You mean it was a
bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?” Knox asked, bewildered.
    Keating smiled. “Both
sexes participated, Mr. Overstreet. And believe me, we didn’t simply read... we
let it drip from our tongues like honey. Women swooned, spirits soared... gods
were created, gentlemen.”
    The boys stood
silent for a moment. “What did the name mean?” Neil asked. “Did you only read
dead poets?”
    “All poetry was
acceptable, Mr. Perry. The name simply referred to the fact that, to join the
organization, you had to be dead.”
    “What?” the boys said in
chorus.
    “The living were
simply pledges. Full membership required a lifetime of apprenticeship. Alas,
even I’m still a lowly initiate,” he explained.
    The boys looked at
one another in amazement. The last meeting must have been fifteen years ago,”
Keating recalled. He looked around again to make sure no one was observing,
then turned and strode away.
    “I say we go
tonight,” Neil said excitedly when Keating was out of sight. “Everybody in?”
    “Where is this cave
lie’s talking about?” Pitts asked.
    “Beyond the stream.
I think I know where it is,” Neil answered.
    “That’s miles,”
Pitts complained.
    “Sounds boring to
me,” Cameron said.
    “Don’t come, then,”
Charlie shot back.
    “You know how many
demerits we re talking about here?” Cameron asked Charlie.
    “So don’t come!”
Charlie said. “Please!”
    Cameron relented.
“All I’m saying is, we have to be careful. We can’t get caught.”
    “Well, no kidding,
Sherlock,” Charlie retorted sarcastically.
    “Who’s in?” Neil
asked, silencing the argument.
    “I’m in,” Charlie
said first.
    “Me too,” Cameron
added.
    Neil looked at Knox,
Pitts, and Meeks. Pitts hesitated. “Well...”
    “Oh, come on,
Pitts,” Charlie said.
    “His grades are
hurting, Charlie,” Meeks said in Pitts’s defense.
    “Then you can help
him, Meeks,” Neil suggested.
    “What is this, a
midnight study group?” Pitts asked, still unsure.
    “Forget it, Pitts,”
Neil said. “You’re coming. Meeks, are your grades hurting, too?” Everyone
laughed.
    “All right,” Meeks
said. “I’ll try anything once .”
    “Except sex,”
Charlie laughed. “Right, Meeks, old boy?” Meeks blushed as the boys laughed and
horsed around him.
    “I’m in as long as
we’re careful,” Cameron said.
    “Knox?” Charlie
continued.
    “I don’t know,” he
said. “I don’t get it.“
    “Come on,” Charlie
encouraged. “It will help you get Chris.”
    “It will?” Knox
looked mystified. “How do you figure that?”
    “Didn’t you hear
Keating say women swooned!”
    “But why?” Knox
asked, still uncertain.
    The group