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Cameron wanted to believe he was dreaming when he heard it.
He has just been awakened from the voices outside, small whispers that were harsh and loud.
He had noticed that Charlie was not in bed and was in the hall with what he presumed was everyone else.
Cameron rubbed his eyes and got up slightly, his lack of knowledge on what was happening this early in the quiet of the morning made him hesitant and slightly irritated.
However he didn’t make any effort to join them and instead froze completely when he heard the loudest sentence so far it was a very shaky,
“we’ve gotta tell him now, i mean that's his roommate.. it's Neil..”
He quickly identified this voice to be Charlie’s but he had never heard him sound so weak and unsure of himself. What he was saying was even more Confusing, what about Neil? He went straight home after the play and… and what?
Just as he was about to finally get up he heard a door opening which he thought to be the one for Todd and Neil's room. He stayed deathly silent but slowly crept to look outside the small crack left in the door. All of the poets were hanging around outside the entrance to their room opposite his own, not fully outside nor fully in. However, Charlie wasn't the same as he had walked in and went out of view.
Cameron thought about joining them but he quickly stopped his line of thought when he heard it,
Neils dead.
It was a soft broken piece of speech but it rattled throughout the air like a crack of thunder.
Shot himself, just last night.
Cameron scrunched his eyebrows, souring his face immediately. Like this was the single strangest thing he‘d ever heard. The drum of misery didn’t hit him yet or as hard as it did Todd. The poets all backed away as the grief stricken boy marched out. They all naturally followed him, all but Cameron. who just stood watching.
Snow panged at the ground, this should be joyful or exciting. But the winter landscape was suddenly dreary as he peered outside at Todd collapsing in grief. Everyone surrounded him, a black mass in the pure white snow. A miserable day in a short lived triumph.
Neil’s despair was known to everyone in the group, everyone saw it when his father was around or even the mention of the man. His features always faltered like he was resorting to a cold dead mask. One his father had helped him make.
Cameron knew of Neil’s happiness as well. You could see it everyday, like just the aspect of living and pursuit of his career in acting was enough to dance through the days, months and years.
He saw it in his face when he played puck. Enthusiastic and fulfilled. You could wonder who could ever want to crush his desires, but in reality that person was there all along.
Cameron also knew he was a stickler for the rules. He knew this because Charlie would remind him almost everyday and the fact he prided himself in it.
Well, some of the time.
He got good grades and was stern in keeping good behaviour despite his rambunctious group of friends. He however enjoyed most of their pursuits and found himself particularly fond of their latest one being the dead poets society.
At first he was definitely hesitant and most of all didn’t understand poetry. Cameron knew he wasn’t really ever good in the creative department, he liked straight facts and methods. But poetry had a tendency to flow outside of any measurement or instruction. Every piece of poetry Mr keating rehearsed sounded overly flowery and complicatedly metaphorical and this made the whole concept strange. To pour your experiences and or emotions into a few verses was so vague and yet simultaneously so specific, not anything like trigonometry or the civil war just outlines for a wide range of pieces.
So Cameron struggled with the fact that he may be bad at a subject for once. Long the days of simply studying Moby Dick or Great expectations, now in class he was forced to think on the philosophy of living a mundane life. Whether to be or not to be? He didn’t care or know the answer. This dull mindset hilted the moment the group decided to form this “dead poets society”. A club from Keatings years, that Cameorn mulled over why they were so enthusiastic about it in the first place.
To him, the whole thing just seemed like an excuse to sneak out and fool around after dark. Which naturally disdained the straight laced boy, however Cameron couldn't deny he ached to be a part of it despite all of this. Despite his love for order he also had a small part of him that wanted to be carefree.
His parents were ordinarily strict. Hard on his grades, behaviour and future career. But after all, who didn’t have parents like that? He knew damn well that Charlie did with the amount of whining he did about their lectures. But for some reason he couldn’t help but feel an immense pressure to be good, to be perfect. That stark rebellious nature and blithe attitude was one he couldn’t relate to.
But in the end he came along and found that his ideology was wrong.
He listened to the poets taking turns and reading from the five centuries of verse. This stirred something within him and he understood why Mr Keating yabbered on about the form so much.
He could also see how much Neil enjoyed it. He was an actor, so naturally he performed with great intensity and emotion. Cameron at that moment saw how much he wanted it. To be an actor.
Cameron, upon reflection, sees that he also yearned for freedom.
Cameron also sees how foolish they all were.
As soon as he heard that Neil committed such a heinous act he immediately knew that it was because of his fathers wishes.
He can't help but think that he should have just listened. He saw it now, Such ideas of freedom and doltish dreams distracted from the truth at hand.
The truth being that this isn't aligned with the real world. Their teacher could tell them these were important but could he also admit that these ideas killed Neil?
He saw it all in real time. Neils slow but steady rebellion that led to his untimely death. It was all Keating's fault, if it wasn’t for him Neil would be fine, he would be sitting with them during study group and debating over calculus or latin or chemistry, or whatever would still be in his life if it wasn’t for this society!
That’s what Cameron thought as he shakily signed his signature after spilling his whole guts about the group's activities. He knew what everyone would think. But he didn’t care, would they rather Neil was a doctor or dead?.
And he did see it when he entered the room that stunk of tobacco with all his friends. Naturally it was Charlie who sprang up first to interrogate him
“You told them everything, didn’t you?”
Cameron looked around at everyone, all staring at him.
He only glanced for a second before scoffing,
“What do you mean Charlie? I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know.”
Charlie then kept a very stern expression as he walked slowly over to him.
“I knew it god damnit, You can't even defend your friends in death you're just a rat until the end.” he said whilst pointing his finger at him.
Can't even defend your friends in death?-
“Listen Dalton, I don't know if you are aware but if they found out I lied about anything we did we would all be expelled.” Cameron exclaimed.
“If you guys wanted what's best you would do the same.”
No one said anything, silence was overcasted even on Charlie who just looked away.
“You know we aren’t at fault here right? it was Mr Keating that put these ideas in our head, if he didn’t bring this upon us we would all be fine.” Cameron muttered.
Charlie scrunched his face, “Mr keating? Is that what they said? He's at fault for this?” He questioned
“Well obviously, he's the one who made us start that society that led to Neil going against his father. It's his fault!”
Todd stood up suddenly and cried, “N-no Neil always loved acting in the first place, Mr keating was just telling him to live his truth Cameron!”
“Exactly! How many times do I have to say this? He brought this upon us, If it wasn't for him Neil would have been a fine doctor and none of thi-“
Before Cameron could finish speaking he felt that sharp rush of pain that Charlie punched into him. He fell back clumsily and stared up at their surprised faces.
He could only breathe heavily in shock at the sudden attack as Knox and Meeks came to immediately pull Charlie away from doing anymore damage.
“Well Dalton-“ Cameron felt his nose to confirm the rushing blood. “-You just signed your expulsion papers.
”And if the rest of you were smart, you would tell them the same thing I did” He said whilst finally standing up.
He didn’t expect anyone to say anything, but maybe he was hoping someone was on his side. With the lingering silence Cameron took this as a sign to leave and so he did, dramatically charging out of the room with a clear person in mind.
Cameron thought over what he said for quite some time whilst he was sitting on the edge of his bed with a bloody rag he no longer needed. Charlie wasn’t there, he was no doubt in Mr Nolan’s office getting his ear chewed off about what happened. He couldn’t handle seeing the boy anymore as their relationship had fully cracked. He knew Charlie and him weren’t the closest pair in the world, but he was his roommate and felt as if they at least were friends. But now Cameron was signing his one way ticket out of the school and felt mixed on whether this was what was right or wrong.
He believed what he said about Neil and how Mr Keating caused all of this, but to see the disappointment in all of his friends' eyes caused him great pain. He knew they wouldn’t spare him a glance once all was said and done. He wondered if they were ever actually going to be the same.
But it didn’t matter now as he couldn’t reverse the past. All he has to do is just excell throughout the year and maybe this will all be some strange memory he will recall when he thinks of theatre,poetry or painful punches.
It was quiet until his roommate barged in with a pained expression.
“You were right Cameron, my days at hellton are done”
Cameron didn’t respond as he felt a pang of guilt and some sort of satisfaction as Charlie looked out the window.
“Y’know my parents are pissed but i don't care”
Charlie then glanced back at Cameron.
“I would rather leave than have to room with you for even another day.”
Cameron looked down, “Charlie you know I had to right? I-I mean..”
“You mean what? You can't speak now? You can slander Mr Keating's name but refuse to explain afterwards?”
“I'm not slandering but you know-”
“No Cameron you made yourself perfectly clear, it's all Neils fault right? He just should've let his father walk all over him right?
“I never said that.” Cameron mumbled.
“Well you damn near implied it.”
“Whatever Dalton just pack your things and hurl yourself into whatever other school your parents can pay to get you in”
Charlie then scoffed quite dramatically before walking closer to Cameron.
“ I don't regret punching you at all, I hope you know that.”
Cameron stood up and walked past Charlie to get to the door before turning around to get the last word.
“And I don't regret telling the truth, I hope you know that Dalton”
He slammed the door shut and walked off, where to? He didn’t know. But he did know he was sick of his roomate and his dramatics. Sick of this heavy blame that was being placed on him.
He walks to the end of the hall to the room that leads up to Mr Nolan’s office. In the room there were many photos of young boys, much like the ones Mr Keating brought them to. He stared deep into all of their faces like he was begging for an answer. Begging for a voice to tell him what he did was right. But there was nothing. Just the silence that reminded him he was never going to get solace from anyone. His parents didn’t care, not when they sat in the office whilst he told them the truth about the club. No comfort or sympathy. Just the reminder he needed to follow the honour code and affirm the rules. He had a hard time looking at any of them in the eyes like he had a burning guilt recounting the “misdeeds” he and his friends got up to. He saw that the words I thought you were better than this were burning on his father’s tongue, Like he was utterly ashamed that this is what he had come to. Did he even care that one of his friends died? Or just the fact he stepped an inch out of line?
As he continued to stare deep at the photos, Mr Keating's words, Carpe diem, rang through his head like a bell. Was this really how one seizes the day? He couldn’t even look to him for advice now considering he would get fired and shamed after something like this. He wonders if Keating would even get angry at him for something like this, he wasn’t like any of their other teachers but Cameron knew he filthied his name egregiously and he wouldn’t blame him for any reprimand. Or maybe he would, Cameron could shake the anger he held towards the man as a major part of him still believes he was at fault for Neil’s death. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes he wondered what their days would have been like if they hadn’t gotten a new English teacher, Probably painfully ordinary. But the boy also wondered if that was for the best or the worst. Was it better If Neil went on to live a life he didn’t want? or that he had that short existence seizing what he wanted despite it coming at a cost?
His thoughts halted as Todd walked down the steps solemnly. He saw his very dreary expression with his glossy eyes and assumed that he was just interrogated for any final scraps of answers they could get.
Todd stopped at the end of the staircase when he noticed Cameron, making slight eye contact but seeming to shy away.
“I-is your nose any better?” Todd asked.
“Yeah i guess i mean nothing serious or whatever”
Todd nodded and looked away like he was trying to keep hold of himself.
“Listen Todd-“ Cameron started whilst laying a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “What I said… I was trying to ensure that Neil was… well I just wanted everyone to know that what happened isn’t fair”
Todd didn’t say anything.
“I know how much he meant to you- and to all of us and it didn’t feel right to protect someone who caused this”
Todd sighed.
“Yeah I-I know it's just… I should go probably”
Cameron didn’t stop him as he slowly slipped away and down the hall. His posture had never been so stiff and stern, like the events had startled him straight.
Cameron thought of when Neil ran down the hall singing his happiness about being chosen for puck.
He thought it to be annoying at the time, it occurred whilst a serious study on chemistry was taking place but now he would kill to hear it again.
He would kill for Mr Keating to have never come here.
He would kill for the mundanity he preached against.
He thought this whilst staring out at his window as Charlie left with his parents. His side of the room was now completely stripped bare.
He stared down at the textbooks that littered his bed and brought himself back to reality. This is a waste of time, he should be studying.
This isn’t a dream. He should be moving on. It's what his parents would want. It's what he wants.
To forget he could have ever been anything but Richard Cameron.