CHAPTER SIX!
( A REAL POEM. )

   "IN A MEAN abode in the shanking road, lived a man named William Bloat. Now, he had a wife, the plague of his life, who continually got his goat. And one day at dawn, with her nightshift on, he slit her bloody throat." Pitts read. Chuckles filled the cave at this.

"Oh, and it gets worse," Pitts said.

"You want to hear a real poem?" Charlie smirked, handing Joan his cigarette. She opened her mouth to object but decided to just suck it up and hold it for him. Meeks got up and tried to hand Charlie the book.

"No, no get this outta here."

"What, did you bring one?" Meeks asked.

"You memorized a poem?" Neil looked surprised.

"I didn't memorize a poem. Move up," Charlie told Neil as he ushered him off the rock. "Ladies you may want to look away for this one, gents, I know you won't."

Joan's gaze flitted to Violet, but neither of them looked away from Charlie completely. They were too curious.

"An original piece by Charlie Dalton," Meeks laughed.

"An original piece," Knox repeated.

"You know this is history, right? This is history," Neil said.

Charlie cleared his throat as he took centre stage. He pulled a magazine page out of his pocket and slowly unfolded it to reveal a naked woman. He had ripped it straight out of a Playboy.

"Oh my god," Joan couldn't help but laugh. She looked from Charlie to Violet who was staring at the picture looking a little disgusted, but when she met Joan's gaze she laughed as well. The boys all gawked at the photo in amazement. Joan didn't know what to say so she just shook her head and waited for Charlie to start reading.

"Oh, wow," Meeks muttered as everyone laughed.

"Where did you get that?" Cameron asked.

"Teach me to love? Go teach thyself more wit. I, chief professor, am of it. The god of love, if such thing there, may learn to love from me," Charlie read rhythmically.

"Wow! Did you write that?" Neil asked, impressed.

"Abraham Cowley," Joan and Charlie said in unison. Joan took a drag from his cigarette, considering it tax for making her hold it. He smiled and winked at her before giving the stage back to Neil. Charlie took a seat next to her and dramatically put the page back in his coat.

"You're ridiculous," she chuckled, handing him his cigarette back. He took an exaggerated drag and blew the smoke in Joan's face.

"Maybe, but you gotta admit, that was pretty good," he winked again.

"I don't gotta admit anything," she smiled proudly.

"Alfred Lord Tennyson. Come my friends,'Tis not too late to seek a newer world, for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset. And though we are not now that strength which in old days, Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;--One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Neil read from the book, moving his flashlight as he read.

"Alright Violet, you're up!" Meeks smiled, patting her shoulder. She looked around hesitantly before standing up and walking to the centre. She flipped through the poem book until she landed on one that caught her eye.

"The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies, With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies, When love is done." Violet spoke in a clear and melodic voice. Joan was impressed. She pondered her poem for a moment and a few people clapped for her. "Oh, uh Francis William Bourdillon," she added.

"That was really good," Joan said. Violet smiled at her before sitting back down.

"Alright, who's next?" Charlie inquired, scanning the faces in the room before turning to Joan. "Joey, your turn!"

"I dunno," Joan shrugged, averting her eyes. She wasn't in the mood to be made fun of by Charlie over a poem, especially when poetry was something she saw as very personal.

She looked at him in slight annoyance, in addition, she didn't really like public speaking. With everyone's attention on her specifically, she got anxious. However, she had brought a poem with her. Charlie picked up on her apprehension and wiped the smirk off his face.

"You got it, you'll do great," he whispered. He smiled at Joan, genuinely, it wasn't out of pride or mischief for once. She furrowed her brow for a moment before she nodded and stood up.

"Alright, alright."

"Yes! Go Joan," Neil cheered.

"You want the book?" Violet asked.

"No, I brought one," she held up a ripped out page. Joan brought it from one of her own poetry books.

She fumbled with the page for a second before unfolding it. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

"We never know how high we are, Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite, Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the cubits warp, For fear to be a king." With each line Joan gained more confidence. She spoke until the words ran out and she was forced to stop, though something in her heart longed to keep going. She wished the poem were infinite. "Emily Dickinson, my favourite poet."

The uncomfortable feeling of eyes on her returned and she rushed back to her seat. She heard people clapping but wished they would just move on, her empowerment already fading. Poetry just felt so vulnerable. Joan sighed, she wished she could feel as bold as she did when reading poetry all the time.

"Told you. That was great," Charlie said once she sat down.

She thanked him quietly and looked at her hands which were twiddling with the poem page. Joan felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She gazed back at Charlie who was casually staring ahead as the book was passed around. Joan was surprised at how comfortable she felt. She leaned into him slightly, enjoying the warmth of his hold, telling herself it meant nothing.

Meeks stepped up and opened the book. He began chanting a poem rhythmically. "Then I had religion, then I had a vision. I could not turn from their revel derision. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black-"

"Meeks, Meeks," Charlie said, adding to the chant.

"...cutting through the forest with a golden track. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track."

One by one people rose to their feet. Knox picked up a tin container and started hitting it like a drum. Everyone began making music with what was around them, sticks, combs, whatever they could find.

"Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track." Everyone joined in as they marched out of the cave, chanting the chorus as if it were the only words they knew.

They continued repeating it until they reached the line where the field and forest met. All together, they reluctantly began their trek towards the school. Once the group reached the point where they would have to part ways, they whispered solemn goodbyes. Charlie tried to pull Joan in for a quick hug.

"Not so fast, Dalton," she said, patting his arm.

"What? I thought we just hit a milestone or something."

"A milestone?" Joan repeated, raising a brow.

"Yeah like: 'Jo let me get within two feet of her without glaring after every word I say' kinda milestone. Y'know?" he grinned, "I think that deserves a celebration hug."

"Oh so you're calling me Jo now?"

"I'm trying things out," he shrugged.

"Fine, but let's make this quick and painless,"

She accepted the hug, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. When Joan began to pull away Charlie just tightened his hold. Joan sighed but didn't object, she didn't like the fluttery feeling in her stomach.

He didn't let go until Knox called him up. He looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it.

"That was really fun," he murmured.

"What? The hug or the meeting?" Joan laughed.

"The meeting, the hug was awful," he clarified with a smile.

"Says the one who was begging for female touch just a moment ago. But yeah, I'm glad we did it," Joan agreed, knowing she should leave but not wanting to move her eyes from his. "Goodnight, Charlie," she finally said.

"Goodnight, Jo. Oh, and goodnight Violet," Charlie said, shifting his eyes to the stairs behind Joan where Violet stood with a smug smile on her lips.

"Goodnight Romeo, I think Juliet and I better get going," she giggled, motioning Joan towards the girls' staircase. Joan started up the stairs quietly.

"Oh shut up, that is not what's going on," she told Violet. Despite this, she couldn't help but turn back to look at Charlie once more. He hadn't moved.

The girls sneaked into their room and slowly shut the door. Once they were safely inside, they both let out a breath.

"I call bull shit," Violet smirked, repeating what Joan had told her when she denied liking Meeks.

"I'm serious, I stand by what I said about him being an insufferable over-confident flirt. I mean did you see his poem?"

"I saw you smiling and looking up at him with that tragically romantic stare and pink cheeks," Violet sang.

"Maybe I was staring at the girl," Joan grinned, "I swing both ways y'know," she winked.

"Whatever you say, Juliet."

"Oh my god, do not start calling me that," Joan sent Violet her best attempt at a glare, which to her dismay, Violet only laughed breathily. "By the way, don't go thinking that you holding Meeks' hand went unnoticed," Joan warned.

"All right," Violet stared out the window pensively for a moment before continuing. "Well to change the subject, tonight was quite possibly the most fun I've ever had."

"It was, I'm so glad we did it. I feel like, I don't know, I just wish it wouldn't end."

"Me too." Violet stepped into bed as did Joan.

"I liked your poem, it was well said," Joan added.

"Well, I liked yours too. I didn't know you liked Dickinson. You should let me read that book you have sometime."

"Of course, it's the purple one on my desk. Emily Dickinson Collected Poems."

"Thanks, oh and one more thing. Do you think Meeks looked... uncomfortable... when I was holding his hand?" Violet queried.

"Not at all. The opposite really," Joan confirmed.

Violet let out a quiet laugh. "Goodnight, Joan."

"Goodnight, Violet."

Joan got into a comfortable position and attempted to ease her mind into slumber. One thing kept her awake, and as much as she tried to deny it, it was Charlie. She tried to convince herself that he wasn't anything to her, just another jerk who thought he was a reincarnate of god himself. Something at the back of her head kept reminding her of the comfort of his embrace, and she couldn't silence it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
❪ ⋆࿐໋  𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒎. ❫

Hi! I don't know if Jo and Charlie's
dynamic is changing too quickly,
I'd love to hear opinions. Thank you
everyone so so much for reading, I
really do appreciate it.