Read Dead Poets Society for Free Online Page A
Authors: Nancy H. Kleinbaum
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 it’s 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 hoys 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.
Chapter
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 it,” he hissed as the dog homed in on the food.
“Good thinking, Pittsie,”
Neil said as the boys crossed
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 it’s 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 hoys 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.
Chapter
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 it,” he hissed as the dog homed in on the food.
“Good thinking, Pittsie,”
Neil said as the boys crossed