"Remember we meet in the hall at midnight," Neil reminds the group in a hushed tone, as we sit at the long dining table huddled together during dinner.

After receiving many side glances from the headmaster, Nolan, we split apart, going off to our individual dorms until midnight.

To be honest, I was quite nervous. Not only had I vowed to stay out of trouble for the sake of my parents, I also wasn't too fond of the idea of being homeschooled again.

Although I miss my home, I've grown very fond of these boys—or the 'Dead Poets'— as I assume they will soon begin to refer to themselves as.

Staring at the barren ceiling, I lay in bed and think about tonight. Mr. Keating made these meetings sound so extravagant, but I find that hard to picture with members like Charlie and Pitts.

"Psst Violet," I hear Charlie whisper through the large wooden door.

I roll my eyes at his foolishness, then grabbing my coat and book, meet him in the hall.

"Where's the others?" I ask skeptically, upon noticing a solo, smirking Charlie in front of me.

"I have the sole honour of escorting you to our first ever Dead Poets Society meeting," He says winking, something I've gathered he does a lot. I was never able to master the wink, but Charlie could so smoothly.

"And why is that?" I ask playfully, still trying to maintain my unfazed demeanour in front of the devilishly handsome, yet too cocky for his own good, Charlie Dalton.

"Well Ms. Ross, if you have not yet noticed, I've grown quite fond of you over this past week. So, I asked if I may spend this time with you alone," he says, while wriggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

I playfully hit his arm, "Shall we?" I say extending my hand to him, which he gladly accepts, his cheeks slightly turning a light shade of pink, as we slowly tip toe down the many corridors, out of the building, and towards the Old Indian Cave.