Choking on the Bone

All right, so I'm such a freak that I decided to rewrite the entirety of what I've already written on this story. I hadn't planned on elongating it this much, but over five thousand words is better than nearly two thousand, right? I guess. I decided to do this because I wanted to get more into the characters. Before it seemed very... impersonal, if that's a word. I don't care enough to check at the moment. Also, I've really been getting into the first person present tense thing recently, so I've decided to put that into a chapter story. The most I've ever done it in is a five-thousand-word one-shot, which I liked very much--not that it's on this site, though. Anyway, those are my reasons for changing it the way I did.

Now, for those of you who have not previously read this story, let it be known that this is a little bit AU. This is set up as if, when Neil told Mr. Keating that his father allowed him to continue with the play and possibly let him stay with acting, Neil wasn't lying. That's the major difference. Because of that, his father didn't get pissed off, he didn't commit suicide, Cameron didn't rat on them, Charlie didn't punch him and get expelled, and Mr. Keating was never fired. However, there is still some tension between Mr. Keating and the administration, but he remained teacher for the rest of the 1959-1960 school year and now, the next school year, he is still a teacher there. Then, after that, Welton went coed. There are only twenty-three girls that begin and only three of those are in the boys' grade, but it's new and exciting for them all.

I know this idea isn't new--not in the least--but I felt like doing it anyway. And I would have loved to have been able to do this all with the story left as it was, but the aura and everything else wouldn't be how I want it so I've decided to change it. I have, however, written several one-shots that do include the entire movie left as it is. Furthermore, I have yet to write anything slash, but I'm sure I will eventually. I'm not a very slashy sort of person, really, but I suppose that I'll write it eventually anyway.

Thank you so much for your time and patience, Anatui

Oh, and I mustn't forget my disclaimer: Dead Poets Society does not belong to me. It would be so wonderful if it did, but it doesn't so there's not much more to say on the matter. Also, there is a section of poetry near the end of this chapter that doesn't belong to me either. It's the first stanza of 'Wondrous Moment' by Alexander Pushkin as explained in further chapters. Oh, and I don't own Webster Dictionary.

Chapter 1 – Coeducation.
(Charlie's POV)

It's a wonderful word really. I don't think I'll forget the day when I found out about it. My father was actually the one to tell me. Neil's parents had called and told him, and he was reading an article about it in the paper when I went down for breakfast. He was terribly furious about it. I really don't know why. I guess he feels the same way that Mr. Nolan does: that girls don't need an education as expensive or as good as boys. Ridiculous, really. Luckily, the small protest formed by a women's rights organization overruled his opinions and the administration finally gave in.

Ah, how I greatly enjoy that word. Coeducation, coeducation. The more times I repeat it, the more I enjoy it. My Webster Dictionary says this about it:

Coeducation n : the education of students of both sexes at the same institution

You know, I've always wondered why dictionaries and all professionals use the term 'sex' instead of 'gender'. I'm not complaining. It's just that when I hear that word, even used in that context, my mind… er, drifts elsewhere. It's a distraction, really, to those people with hormones. I'm sure I'm not the only one. If I were… that'd be a bit weird, don't you think?

Of course, when I think like that, it might just be because it's difficult to satisfy my hormones when I'm surrounded by uptight male teachers and a bunch of guys that are my friends. Why do you think I so recklessly pulled that stunt about the article in the school paper for girls to be admitted to Welton last year? Come on! It's not because I wasn't horny. How could I not be? I'm a teenage boy, and, no matter what society says about it, my life has a certain drive that those not of mating age lack. Hey, it's not my fault. It's in the nature of the world. I just act on instinct, which, for some asinine reason, is thought indecent in the world of today. I just don't understand it.

It is rather doubtful that many girls will be attending Welton this coming year, but a couple is better than none. It is just starting now, so, according to the paper, there are only twenty-three girls attending—that's in all grades, though. Still, twenty-three! That might just be my new favorite number. Of course, not even half of those are within the proper dating age range, but still!

And so, blissfully, I begin my day and my journey back to the horrible Hell-ton, but, for some reason, I have a feeling this will be a good year. Girls, the Society still up and running, Mr. Keating still teaching. What more could possibly happen to make this year any better? …Actually, now that you mention it, I can think of a couple things, but I doubt very much that my parents will give up on their young Mr. Future Banker, as Neil dubbed me. So it won't be the best year it could possibly be, but, considering all the circumstances and the possibilities and the prospects, I think it'll end up being a great year, despite the certain aspects it may lack.

With high hopes and a sad, twisted desire for the new school year to begin, I go through my morning rituals: bathing, dressing, eating breakfast, dragging my luggage to our car. And, then, after that, we drive toward Welton. We don't really live all that far away from the school, so it only takes an hour to get there when, for many others, I know for certain it takes much longer.

During Mr. Nolan's beginning-of-the-year speech, I do my best to listen. All right, I take that back. I only really listen to the one part at the end where he welcomes the girls to the school and asks the boys to all be 'gentlemanly' to them. He's kidding, right? What guy is really going to be a gentleman to them? Well, there's always Neil, but he's a gentleman to… everyone, except maybe me sometimes when he's telling me to shut up about bugging Cameron. But the guy's an annoying goody-goody, so can you really blame me for bugging him all the time? He brings it on himself. I just hope I don't have to be in the same room as him like last year.

That's when the fun actually begins. My parents leave—thank God, because they're really such hindrances to teenagers—and I run into Knox, one of my two best friends. Together, we go off to discover that I am, indeed, not going to spend another year in the same dorm as Cameron—at this point, I'm thanking God so much that, if He hasn't forgiven me for my phone call stunt last year, there's nothing left I could possibly say or do to change His mind—and that I'll instead be in the same dorm as Knox this year. What a lovely, happy, wonderful surprise!

With only a couple seconds in our dormitory, we easily drop off our suitcases and take a quick walk around the halls of the familiar building. Quite easily, we find Neil and Todd in their own room, which they coincidentally share once again, and I knock a short rhythm on the doorframe like I would on my bongo drums to catch the two boys' attention. Both boys, Neil sitting on his bed next to his open suitcase and Todd standing up in the middle of the room, look over at the noise.

"Hey, guys," Knox says with a smile as we enter the room. He easily commandeers Todd's bed, which causes me to send an obnoxious scowl his way. The little thief! I wanted that bed! Disgruntled, I resort to sitting in chair, and, apparently, the look on my face makes the others laugh. We all exchange greetings—mostly Neil and Knox, but that's just them being them—and the room is filled with lovely and rather boring Smalltalk.

"How was your summer, Todd?" asks Knox in his silly polite manner.

"Fine," the boy responds—amazingly without a stutter. I'm sure Neil is growing rather proud of the boy for getting more comfortable around people. He's really more fun to hang around with now that he's loosened up some. He's way better than Cameron, at least.

"Study group?" suggests someone from the doorway. We glance over to see Pitts, tall as the sun above (not that we can see it, mind you), standing there.

Meeks is nowhere to be found, but we know he's around here somewhere. And Cameron… I don't care, but we all know he would be in his dorm, making sure everything is in order and in its proper place. He's like Susie Homemaker or something. Everyone else seems to be present.

"Already?" I ask almost incredulously. With all the excitement around here, how could they possibly want to study? Of all asinine and atrocious things in the world, studying? I don't understand them sometimes.

"Oh, so you don't want to be in the study group this year?" laughs Neil, raising an eyebrow at me, which amuses me and yet also annoys me at the same time. Damn him, even if he is my best friend.

"Why would I want to study when this year is going to be so great?" I return with a small smirk.

Knox laughs from across the room. Damn him, too, even if he's my other best friend. "What you really mean is, why would you want to study when you could be out with a girl, right?" he reasons with that strange smile of his. Yes, definitely damn him.

Not a word issues from my mouth. All I do is show off my devilishly handsome and infamous smirk to them. My personal favorite feature, really.

"You do know that there are only three girls that are actually in our grade, right?" says Neil, his eyes half-closed with mirth. Definitely damn him, too. "Is that really enough for you?"

I think Knox is even more amused by what Neil says, though, because he continues, "Three? As opposed to zero? Come on, Neil. You're just thrilling him even more. Cut it out before he bursts of excitement."

"You're making it seem like he's going to be with all three girls at the same time," Pitts said with all seriousness possible in the situation. He pauses for a moment before saying, "I doubt he'd be able to convince them all to have sex with a guy who calls himself Nuwanda."

What do they think I am? A whore? Au contraire, I am anything but. First of all, I'd need to be a girl for that. Second, I don't have sex for money. I have it for fun… and, of course, to ease those aching hormones in a lovely, delectable way—and I don't think I could possibly see how someone could argue with that. There are just some people I'll never be able to understand—them or their way of thinking.

"I'm not going to burst," I snap.

They all look at me, and even Todd has the audacity to laugh. All right, screw it. Damn them all, even if they're all my friends. They're all too annoying anyway. Meeks, too, even though he's not here. Oh, damn, but then I'd be stuck with Cameron, and I do not want that! Hmm, I could kill him and damn all of them. They're not really disappearing anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter much whether I damn them or not. Damn. What's making them laugh now?

"Uh, Charlie, that's a little off topic now, don't you think?" says Neil, grinning from ear to ear almost. "We're talking about the study group again." His smile takes on a new aura—something a bit more… shall I say, conniving?—and he continues, "Or were you off in some fantasy world?"

"I was not," I defend earnestly. "When?"

"When what?" asks Todd quietly yet curiously.

"Study group," I clarify. "When?"

"Tomorrow night," Knox replies.

My fingers find the pocket of my jacket that I didn't shed in my room for only one reason: ah, the ecstasy of my cigarettes. And I really need a smoke. Inside the pocket, I can feel both my packet and my lighter, and just touching them is enough to make me want them more.

"Somebody close the door," I demand, feeling the need to pull them out and light up a smoke immediately.

Pitts, who is closest and apparently just sat down on the other chair, stands up and moves toward the door to do so, but, from beyond him and at the door, another voice comes to stop him and all of our movements within the room. Oh, it's not Neil's father like he's always afraid it will be, especially after all the surprises his father brought along with him when he came last year, but somebody completely new and different.

Yes, standing there, in all the glory of womanhood and the beauty of… well, womanly beauty, is a girl. The first girl that any of us have seen up close since we got here. She's quite attractive, even if she's a little short—everyone looks short standing next to Pittsie, though, and it's not like I'm all that tall myself—and has a scowl on those pretty, rosy red lips of hers. As beautiful and angelic as she may appear—actually, she doesn't appear all that angelic with her long, sultry waves of chestnut brown hair and dangerously fiery eyes—her voice disproves any theory of her being an angel. The words she had said that made us stop (mostly me, mind you) were, "Why don't you get up off your ass and do it yourself?" Hmm, feisty. I like it.

"Um," says Neil, choking slightly on nothing but air—he would, really—and looking a little nervous—well, not so much as curious—about having a girl here at his dorm, "can we help you?"

With a small groan as my finger grazes the smokes in my pocket, I snap, "Oh, if you're going to come in, come in already and shut the door."

Amazingly, she obliges to the first part, but, not so amazingly, she doesn't to the second. Instead, she leaves the door wide open for anyone to see, sending me a short smirk of triumph until Pitts nervously closes the door behind her and I happily light up my cigarette that I've been itching to have for a while.

"That's disgusting," she spits. I notice a hint of an accent, but it's not very strong when she's spitting at me—not spitting saliva per se, but words. She's very attractive, but the personality is a bit of a letdown. Hmm, maybe I can ignore that. Or maybe she's just defensive because of the unfamiliar surroundings. The hell with it, I don't really care either way. Could be a tiger in bed, anyway.

"What do you want?" I ask rudely.

"I got lost," she admits, not looking at me at all but at Neil. Figures. She obviously can't admit defeat to me because I'm so awesome. Or because that would show weakness or some crap like that. Some people I'll never understand. Or maybe she's attracted to Neil for some weird reason. Actually, I can kind of see that. If I were a girl, I might be attracted to him. But I am so definitely not. I'm as manly as they come. And I'm a complete freak for trying to reassure myself of something I already know. How stupid of me. Hmm. At least I know I'm not dubious about the fact in the least, though. That's always good to know.

Knox begins to speak. "I'm Knox Overstreet," he says, reaching out his hand kindly, which she takes and shakes gratefully. Then he starts trying to explain to her how to reach the girls' dormitories. We all know where they are—not because we're horny teenage boys but because they're in a new structure that they just built over the summer break. Mr. Nolan had told us about the construction at the end of term last year, but he hadn't said what it was for and we hadn't realized until the article in the paper and all the other stuff. It's kind of scary to think that this was all going on behind our backs even before summer break, but that doesn't really matter.

However, I interrupt him with a small hand motion that I know for certain he sees because he immediately trails off, causing this girl to look confused for a moment and then a little bit irritated. In the meanwhile, I stand up, dropping my beloved cigarette on the floor and smashing it beneath my shoe, and say, "I can help you out," easily catching the girl's attention. I send Pitts a small devious look, letting him know that I took his last statement to me as a challenge, as I say, "The name's Charlie Dalton, but I'd prefer you to call me Nuwanda."

She appears rather taken aback at my statement but she quickly recovers. "Moira O'Brien." With that name, I easily place the accent I had previously noticed. It's Irish. Almost uneasily, she glances at the other boys here, hoping that they intervene or something. They do… kind of.

"Oh, by the way," says Neil hurriedly, "I'm Neil Perry."

She seems somewhat grateful for that, and I know for certain I'm not. Didn't I already damn him multiple times, though? Oh well.

"And this is Todd Anderson," Neil continues, pointing out Todd, who is a little bit too nervous to present himself properly to a lady… as if she's really a lady, though.

She nods at both of them with a smile, which is a very nice smile, by the way.

"I'm Gerard Pitts," adds Pittsie.

Knox just smiles at her as he's already introduced himself.

"It's lovely to meet all of you," she says.

I grin and move toward the door. "Yeah, that's nice," I say. "Come on, I'll show you around the grounds." I open the door again and step out, awaiting her to follow me. It takes a moment, but she complies eventually after bidding the others farewell.

From our place right outside the door, I know we can both hear what's said inside the dorm as we listen to Todd move toward his desk and chair that I had just so recently occupied. "Do you think it's safe for her to go with him?" asks Todd a bit nervously.

Knox laughs at the words. "Whether it is or whether it isn't, I don't want to be the one to question Charlie… at least not to his face. His motives have always been a bit… er, shall we say, skewed?"

I know for certain that I have a smirk right now as I glance over at the Irish girl, who's currently waiting for me to move with a scowl on her face. And so I decide it's time to begin our short journey across the school campus.

"Are you sure of your way?" I hear her ask, and her voice sounds like she's just eaten something that tastes foul.

I shrug cockily, something which I didn't even know could be done cockily until now, and reply, "Of course I am." I glance back at her as we reach the staircase and notice that she wishes for me to elaborate. Just to please her (and I guess to amuse myself), I explain to her what I've already mentioned here: that all the girls' dormitories are in the new building that they made over the summer.

Not wanting to let all conversation die, I add, "Say, how did you end up in our building, anyway?" It's a perfectly valid question, after all. It's a completely boys area, so it's rather odd to see a girl there. But then I might not have met her… well, not so soon anyway. She looks about our age, so I wouldn't be surprised if I see her during other things… like, I don't know, classes or something.

She pauses a moment to adjust her large bag on her shoulder, something I had completely overlooked before now, and I stop with her, only to continue when she does so that we walk side by side. "I was talking to Ricky," she finally answers. Her voice is no longer as if she's smelling something putrid, which is a bit nice and yet also less satisfying. Hmm. I have a strange, sadistic humor, don't I?

"Ricky?" I say, furrowing my brow. I don't recognize the name. But then I think that it could easily be short for something. It's definitely not what a parent of the kids sent here would name their child. "I don't know a Ricky."

She rolls her eyes like it isn't any surprise. "I doubt you like him."

"You know so much about me already?"

"I've actually heard of you once or twice from him. He doesn't really care for you. Apparently, in sixth grade, you played an awful trick on him. He was friends with a kid you call Spaz at that time, and you absolutely loathed each other."

I can barely believe my ears. I know that story quite well, but it sounds a lot better when I tell it. Finally, I manage to say, "You were talking to Cameron? Why would you ever talk to Cameron of all people?"

She laughs mirthlessly. "So you do know him. What's your point?"

"As in Richard Cameron?" I clarify. Just to be sure. I don't want to end up having it mistaken—not that I could.

"Yes, Richard Cameron," she says. "What's so wrong with him? He's a perfectly fantastic person."

I smirk and laugh and possibly snort a little at what she says. "What world are you living in, Irish?"

"The same one as you, Mr. Dalton," she replies curtly. I don't think she enjoyed me calling her Irish.

We finally exit the building and follow a small walkway covered by an awning above us. It's a short distance to the girls' small two-story building, and we lapse into a sort of silence that's only slightly awkward.

"You are Irish, aren't you?" I ask, tilting my head to the side as I glance down at her. "I didn't offend you when I said that, did I?"

"No," she snaps.

"No to what?"

"I am indeed Irish," she amends, "but you did not offend me, Dalton." She takes a deep breath, huffs, then continues with what she was saying. "I was just wondering if you called me that because you're discriminating against me in some odd way or if it was because you had already forgotten my name."

I scowl at her. "Moira O'Brien," I say, just to prove that I do actually recollect her name. "I wasn't discriminating either. I was just… having fun."

She snorts—and it's the strangest thing I've ever experienced, hearing a girl snort. There's something extremely odd about Miss Moira O'Brien. She's definitely not normal. She uses lewd language, she mocks me, and now she snorts, too. Most indubitably different from every other girl I've met. And it's not attractive in the least. The only reason I'm here is to prove a point, though, and not because of any attraction I might feel toward this girl. What Pitts said was a challenge. I can get any girl, even with the name Nuwanda. What is he saying about my chosen name, anyway?

"Oh, is that what you Americans call it?" she laughs.

"Now you're the one discriminating," I snap back deviously. Eager to change the subject for some reason as yet unknown to myself, I say, "How do you know Cameron?" Not that I really give a damn, but I suppose I should make a bit of an effort since she's proving difficult.

"Our parents are friends," she explains, keeping her statement short and unfriendly.

We enter the door to the newest construction at Welton Academy and I hold it open for her. She walks inside without so much as a courtesy nod. Hmm, I should make sure to add 'rude' or 'unappreciative' to that previous list I was making. I show her the common room, showers, and laundry facility on the ground floor. They're in exactly the same places as the ones in the boys' section. Then, we make our way up the small staircase to the second floor of the building and locate her dormitory.

Her room is empty when we open the door, but someone else has dropped off their things onto one of the beds. I make my way to the bed that is obviously hers and lay down on it, eager to both relax and annoy her. I watch her groan at my actions and set her bag down on the chair at the desk that is obviously hers and turn on me. "What?" I question as innocently as I can.

"Get off my bed," she demands.

"Awfully demanding, aren't we?" I grin.

"Awfully obnoxious, aren't we?" she sends back easily.

I nod enthusiastically at her words and say, "Oh, I most definitely am, Irish."

"Off!" Ah, so she's finally resorted to yelling. Took her long enough. I've definitely been waiting for it. To tell the truth, she's actually more attractive whilst yelling than whilst not. The look in her eyes is dangerous and yet… I don't know what it is, but I like it and I definitely like to know that I'm the one that made that happen.

"I say you get on," I challenge with my smirk.

"I say that I will never get on the same bed as you," she snarls angrily.

I just laugh, as silly as that may sound. "Never say 'never', Irish. And never say 'always'. Especially on a science test because those are always the questions you get wrong." I grin before amending my last statement, "Well, not necessarily always."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Why are you still here, Dalton?"

With a shrug, I reply, "I like being around you."

"No, you don't," declares Moira with a short humorless laugh.

"You know exactly what I feel now, too, huh?"

"I do not, and I don't want to. I'm sickened enough by you as it is that I don't want to know every little dirty detail of what you're thinking."

"How do you know there are a bunch of dirty details in my head?"

She snorts again. "All I have to do is look at you and I can tell. God, Dalton, you don't even try to cover up the fact that you're perverted in every way possible."

"Why should I if it's so blatantly obvious?"

"I mean that it's so blatantly obvious because you don't try."

"I understood completely, Irish. Don't try to make me out to be stupid, too."

"Well, how am I to know what you are and what you aren't? You're the one that's making a horrible first impression."

"Yours isn't too splendid either, Irish."

We move into another one of those strange yet somehow not really awkward silences again. I don't know why, but it's unnerving at the same time that it's relaxing. I really just don't understand her. Of all the things in this world that I don't understand, which has recently grown to a rather large amount of things, she tops it all off. She is the weirdest person I have ever met in my entire life. She lives in a time where women are told to sit down, shut up, and become a stupid little housewife but she's not going to shut up about her views on anything unless I cover that mouth up with something. Hmm, that could prove interesting… and possibly fun. It's really the strangest thing, though. Well, that and the fact that this is probably the most fun I've had in a long time. Who knew that annoying the hell out of someone could be so damn entertaining? I certainly didn't until now.

I wonder why Cameron kept her a secret for so long. She's obviously lived in Ireland for most of her life to get that accent, but she definitely knows Cameron, too—enough to give him a wretched nickname. Seriously, who in their right mind would call Cameron by the name Ricky? Cameron shouldn't be given a pet name of any sort. It's just… I don't know, wrong.

A short moment later, another girl enters the picture. She's slender—willowy even—and completely different from this Irish girl. Her hair is pulled back into little, golden ringlets that frame her oval face. She's easily my height with eyes of green-hazel.

In one look, I can tell that she's just as beautiful as Moira but in a completely different way. While Moira is strong and fervent and full of emotion, this new girl seems very delicate and dainty like some doll. I'm not sure which is more attractive at the moment, but I think I'll figure it out eventually.

"Hi!" the blonde girl exclaims ardently as she races into the room and jumps excited. "I'm Jessica Hennessey! You must be my roommate!" Her face is pretty, yes, but her constant voice… not so much.

Moira's reaction to this new girl is… well, quite different from her reaction to me. She's actually nice to this girl and not cold and brusque. "It's lovely to meet you," she says with a small smile. "My name is Moira O'Brien." And they shake hands.

To tell the truth, I think I'd pick Irish over this Jessica Hennessey, even if I'm less likely to get laid. And that's a bit strange, but, at the same time, I can understand that. While Jessica is excited, she isn't exciting. It's the same kind of girl I'm used to, so it completely lacks the adventure of the unknown. For some reason, despite how much she loathes me and how annoying I know she can be, I do enjoy Moira. Hmm, odd.

When Jessica turns to me, she says in that same animated voice, "And who are you?"

With one glance at her, I know all I have to do is something simple and she's head over heals. So I stand up, make my way toward her in the middle of the room, smile, answer her with, "Charlie Dalton," take her hand, bow, and kiss it like a gentleman. Hah, take that Nolan. I can too be a gentleman, even if it's just for those damn hormones. When I straighten my stance, I say something I know for sure will get her to like me:

"The wondrous moment of our meeting…
I well remember you appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear."

It's rather true, I suppose. She's definitely more like an angel than Moira is, but she lacks a certain quality that all angels need to have: the ability to shut up and look beautiful while doing it without looking awkward in the least. She doesn't seem the type to be able to do that.

"Aww, that's so sweet," laughs Jessica, her cheeks growing a rosy blush. "Did you come up with that?"

With a grin, I reply, "I did. Just for you."

Her blush increases, much to my amusement.

Apparently, it isn't to Moira's amusement, though. I can barely hear her snort (again) and mutter, "Alexander Pushkin." She will never cease to amaze me, really. It just so happens that said Alexander Pushkin is actually the author of the poem I just recited.

I let go of Jessica's hand and take another short bow, saying, "Ladies, I fear I must leave you now. 'Twas lovely to meet you, Miss Hennessey." And so I make my way toward the door to leave, but, just as I hear Moira breathe a sigh of relief, I turn back, my hand on the doorframe, sticking my head back inside the room. "Oh, and, Irish, my friends and I are having a study group tomorrow night in the boys' common room. You're welcome to join us. We're starting 'round eight."

Then I really do leave, but I certainly don't miss what she says in response: "I don't like people that smoke!"

On my journey back toward my own dormitory and the others, I know they'll want to hear what happened. I, on the other hand, mostly just want to know why Cameron kept this girl a secret for so long. Hmm, maybe he likes her. That could pose a problem. But, then again, it is Cameron, and I could really care less about him liking a girl. To tell the truth, I'm not even sure if he likes girls.

But I guess I'll have to tell them something. It definitely wasn't anything big. Actually, I think she's more fun to annoy than to woo. Strange but true. And it's certainly nice that she knows poetry (I swear, she really did say, "Alexander Pushkin," back there—it can't just all be in my head).

But she is coming to the study group, so that's got to count toward something. Of course, I know for certain that that's about the time they ask me how I know she's coming. Sure, I can see how some people might think that she hadn't agreed when she said that last thing, but I have a feeling she'll be there, though, sadly, it might not be my doing at all.

I know what Knox will say when I tell him what she said. He'll say that I have to stop smoking if I want this girl. But, really, I'm not even sure if I do want her. She's attractive, yes, and she's probably a wild cat during a romp, but I've never had to change anything for a woman and I don't plan on doing so—definitely not quit smoking, anyway, and definitely not for someone so demanding as her.

Hmm, I really do think this year will be great. The word 'coeducation' still has a certain ring to it that I doubt I'll get over soon. It's beautiful, really. I really do love that word.

Well, thank you, everyone, for reading this. Please leave me a review (I love those!).