𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

08. 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

The only sound in your bedroom—other than faraway snoring—was the ticking of the small wooden clock that rested on your mantle. The bell tower on the lawn outside chimed twelve times over, but the noise was nearly lost to the night.

The world was dark and still and you figured you must've been the only one still awake in the faculty barracks. Even so, sleep was weighing on your eyelids, begging you to set down the book you were reading and curl up under the covers once and for all.

The Dead Poets Society was a bust, a voice in the back of your mind cackled. It was the same voice that told you to take off your shoes and shut off your bedside lamp. It wasn't going to happen. No one was coming to retrieve you. Everyone's gone to bed and you should too.

But you didn't succumb to the call of sleep. You forced yourself to sit upright in bed, pinching the tender flesh of your arm every so often to stay awake.

Midnight melted into twelve-thirty, then one o'clock, but you continued to sit awake. It wasn't until you finally huffed in defeat and reached over to shut off the lamp that you heard a gentle knock at your window.

You gasped, spinning around. "Jesus," you mumbled, eyes widening at the sight of seven hooded figures gathered just underneath your window sill. They were huddled between the two pine trees on either side of your first-story window. You could barely see the outline of Neil's face in the dim light of your room as he raised his fist to knock again.

"Shh," you hissed, scrambling out of bed. You raced across the carpeted floor and quickly unlatched the casement window before peering over the side.

"It's the middle of the night," you whispered, voice cracking into a giggle halfway through. You were only a little excited about the fact that the boys had actually shown up to take you into the woods. The other half of you was determined not to wake up the rest of campus in the process.

If your father knew you had company at this hour, you could kiss the Dead Poets Society goodbye. Hell, you could kiss Welton goodbye. And while that might've been good news to you a few months ago, you didn't think you could risk losing the first batch of new friends that you've made in years.

One by one, the boys pulled back their navy blue hoods. Neil tipped his chin back to grin up at you, arms crossed as he leaned his weight on the edge of the chipped window sill. "We had to wait until Hager fell asleep. Are you ready?"

"I've been ready for hours," you smiled, raising your voice slightly and leaning out more to scope out the rest of the small crowd. "Hey, guys."

"Hey (Y/N)," Meeks whispered, eyeglasses fogging in the silvery glow of moonlight. He received a shove from Pitts not a second later. It seemed like everyone was there and accounted for—even Todd, though he was hidden between Charlie and Cameron.

You opened your mouth to speak when suddenly you heard a knock against your bedroom door, which had thankfully been propped shut by your desk chair.

"(Y/N)? I heard a crash. Are you alright?"

Your father.

Charlie's lips parted but before he could do anything stupid, Knox clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled both of them down into the mulch. The others soon followed, jackets pulled up to their ears. Neil ducked last, allowing you to pull the window back toward you. Like study group all over again, you thought bitterly.

"Yes, father," you chirped, shooting the boys a quick look over your shoulder. You did your best to sound as groggy as possible. "Everything is fine. I just fell out of bed, that's all."

There was a beat of silence and you hoped he couldn't hear Cameron and Charlie's angry whispers behind you.

"Shh!"