CHAPTER NINETEEN!
( HOPE IS A THING WITH FEATHERS. )

   THE ADMINISTRATION KNEW about the club. They knew names, they knew details, and they wanted more. They wanted all the club members to come speak to Mr. Nolan with their families.

Violet was chewing at her nails, staring nervously at the wooden door. Joan stared at the ceiling. She was nervous, but anger overtook that. At this point she couldn't find it in herself to care what her parents thought about the club, and she certainly didn't care what Nolan thought of her. He was desperately trying to pin Neil's death on Keating, and that made Jo mad.

They had been sitting in the dorm room for what felt like days. The air smelled stale, the bedsheets felt cold and rough. The walls looked more beige than ever, and Jo found herself hating the stupid wooden furniture that leaned against the walls.

"I hate this place," she stated. Not really to Violet, not to herself. Just to the stuffy, grey air. "I hate it."

Violet didn't say a word. She was preoccupied with her own thoughts. Jo looked over to see Violet glancing between the clock and the door. Her usually sparkling eyes looked dull and anxious.

"You okay?" Jo asked.

"It just feels so hopeless. I mean, it wasn't Keating's fault, and now he's gonna have to take the fall for something so terrible. I just wish I could change things but I can't. I'm gonna have to go in there and face my parents and Nolan. I can't stop thinking about what my parents will think. I know I shouldn't worry about that but I can't help it," Violet said softly.

Jo sighed and stood up. She stepped over to her desk and pulled a purple book out of a stack of textbooks. She leaned against the wall and flipped open to a bookmarked page, one that she had read several times.

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me." 

Jo looked up at Violet to see her with a small smile. It was the first time Jo had seen anyone smile since Neil's death. She missed the warmth in people's eyes. "It's gonna be okay," Jo said. She tried to smile, but it didn't work, it was more like a tight lipped line than a smile.

Jo glanced back down at the book. Hope is a Thing With Feathers. The words stood out against the white paper. She ran her fingers along the page before slowly tearing it out of the binding. She placed the book back down on her desk, the gold title looking shinier than ever, The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson.

Jo's mind wandered back to that first time they all went to the cave. Before she left for the meeting she held this book in her hands, flipping through every page to find the perfect poem to read. Though she'd never admit it, she was so worried about what the boys would think of her, but she was so glad she decided to go. It was the beginnings something she would never trade for the world. Jo looked back at Violet and handed her the page. Violet took it from her hand and read the poem once more.

"Keep it in your pocket. That way they haven't really won, no matter what they make you do or say. You've got a piece of the forbidden Dead Poets Society in your own pocket," Jo nodded.

"Thank you," Violet replied. Just as the words left her mouth there were three harsh raps at the door.

"Violet Moore," a voice called loudly. She looked at Jo, but she didn't look as afraid anymore. Violet opened the door and immediately was lead down the hallway. Jo stuck her head out and watched the two figures disappear from view.

Once they were gone, she shut the door, then in the wooden chair and stared at her desk. It was all so stupid. Her whole life felt stupid, until she met Keating, and she wasn't going to let her life be stupid again.

She slipped her math compass out of her drawer and began to cut away at the surface of the wooden desk. She moved her tool until a message had been carved into the desk in big bold letters. She let herself laugh as she read it over, the irony was humorous. Travesty, horror, decadence, excrement. The four pillars of Hell-ton Academy.

Vandalism of school property seemed unthinkable months ago, but now it felt like something that she should've done a century ago. Jo was never really the rebellious type, but she certainly was the vengeful type.

Three knocks. "Joan Levy." She stood up and opened the door. Violet locked eyes with her for a brief second as she stepped back into the room. Before Jo knew it she was headed to Mr. Nolan's office.

Jo pushed the big doors open to find her parents seated across from Nolan. All three adults looked at her sternly. She stepped forward and looked Mr. Nolan in the eye.

"Have a seat, Ms. Levy," he ordered. Jo complied.

"Ms. Levy, I think we've pretty well put together what's happened here. You do admit to being a part of this Dead Poets Society?"

"Yes, Sir." The word sir dripped in sarcastic contempt. Enough for Jo's parents to send her warning glares.

"I have here a detailed description of what occurred at your meetings. It describes how your teacher, Mr. Keating, encouraged you all to organize this club and to use it as a source of inspiration for reckless and self-indulgent behavior. It describes how Mr. Keating, both in and out of the classroom, encouraged Neil Perry to follow his obsession with acting when he knew all along it was against the explicit order of Neil's parents. It was Mr. Keating's blatant abuse of his position as teacher that led directly to Neil Perry's death," Nolan stated, staring you down the whole time. Jo swallowed her rage, not saying a word. She clenched her fists tightly beneath the table, wishing she could pummel Nolan while her parents watched.

Nolan placed a page in front of her and advised her to read it carefully. Jo glanced down and skimmed it, every word adding more fuel to the dangerous fire that had been building inside of her for days now. Her eyes reached the bottom of the page where she saw that everyone had signed it, except Charlie. Charlie didn't even make it on the list.

"Where's Charlie?" she demanded.

"Expelled. That's what can happen if you don't make your choices carefully," Nolan warned. "If you've nothing to add or amend, sign it."

A dry, angry chuckle left her mouth. Jo took the pen from his hand and pressed it into the paper below her name. She considered for a moment what the consequences of her actions might be, staring at the ink that was bleeding through the page.

"Sign it, Joan," her father hissed. Jo blocked it out, still holding the pen onto the page.

"Keating had nothing to do with Neil's death. He gave Neil and all of us something that we've never had, something the rest of you were afraid of," she stated, pulling the pen off the page.

"And what might that be, young lady?" Nolan countered angrily.

"The ability to think for ourselves and not just listen to what all you old white men tell us to think! He gave us meaning," she replied. He shouldn't have asked.

"Joan!" her mother gasped incredulously.

"No, mother, you too. You're all pathetic you know that? Hiding behind the notion that this is Keating's fault. Either you're too much of a coward to face the truth, or you're too delusional to see it. Keating was never the tyrant," Jo spat. She took the pen and drew a line through the paragraph of lies.

"I told you what would happen if you didn't make your choices carefully," Nolan sneered, standing up to his full height. "You're hereby expelled from Welton Academy, the finest preparatory school in the United States. Congratulations, I hope you're happy with yourself, Ms. Levy."

"Thank you, I am," she glared back.

"Oh, you are in for it! I am so ashamed of you," her father nearly yelled, grabbing the back of her blazer roughly. He dragged Jo out of Nolan's office, ready to reprimand her right there in the hallway. He had an ugly look on his face, one that told Jo the next chapter of her life would not be a pleasant one. Despite it all, she swore she saw her mother smile proudly, if only for a second.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
❪ ⋆࿐໋ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒎. ❫

Sorry about the fact that there isn't
any Charlie this chapter, but he will
be in the rest of the chapters. The
book is coming to a close, and thank
you to everyone who is still reading I
really appreciate you so so much.