"You all right, Neil?" Maria asked, looking over at him during free hours. The group had finished their homework, after much deliberation about a precalculus question that had even Meeks pulling at his hair and were now relaxing in the student lounge.

Neil was pulled out of his thoughts and gave Maria a tentative smile. "Yeah, I guess."

She quirked her head to the side, shifting in her seat to look face Neil more head-on. As she moved, Charlie glanced over at her and smiled briefly before turning back to the game of chess he and Meeks were playing. In a movement of unconscious familiarity, he intertwined his free hand with one of Maria's, brought it up to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

Maria focused on Neil, eyeing him closely. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?" She tried, noticing how Neil seemed a little distant and preoccupied. He hadn't even been there for dinner, having cited that he had grabbed something to eat after his rehearsal and wasn't hungry enough for a second meal of Hell-ton spaghetti and meatballs.

Neil hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not really," he replied, his voice a little unsteady. "I'm fine, Maria. Just thinking about stuff."

Maria could tell that there was more to it than that, but she didn't want to push him too hard. "Well, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me," she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

"In Charlie's room?" Neil quipped quickly, feeling slightly better at the chance to tease Maria.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Perry," she countered back, but her eyes shone with something that made Neil feel something deep inside him. He watched as she turned to Charlie briefly, and he placed a quick kiss on the side of her head in a comforting move.

That was passion, wasn't it? That was love, even if his two friends hadn't realized it yet.

Neil couldn't help but feel a little envious of the two of them, how easily and openly they could show their passion and love for one another. While he, sat here struggling with his own. His passion for acting - his love for acting - having met the biggest obstacle in his life - his father.

He could never show his love, his passion, that openly.

"If you are feeling a little nervous about performing," Maria said suddenly, turning back to him. "You should go talk to Uncle John. He always helped me calm down before a performance."

"Wait, Maria, you perform?" Knox asked, incredulous. "Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Maria shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "It's not a big deal," she said, trying to downplay things. "Just a couple of singing recitals her and there."

"Singing recitals?" Knox repeated, eyes wide at this knew fact.

Todd settled back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling a little proud that he was definitely the first to know of that.

While Charlie, never ever letting the chance to show off his girlfriend go, perked up quickly. "She's amazing," he gushed. "Sweetest voice in all of Vermont - no in all of the world -"

"Charlie..." Maria admonished quietly, shaking her head at him.

"You all have to hear her," Charlie said with a bright, prideful smile.

Todd suddenly jolted up. "What? Charlie, you've heard her sing?"

Charlie puffed his chest out with pride. "Course I have."

"When?" Todd fired back.

It was Charlie's turn to shift slightly and Maria noticed how cute he looked when he was a little shy. "When I was in her room earlier," he said, trying to look cool.

"My, my, Slick," Knox said, tutting his tongue.

"Bug off, Knoxious," Charlie said, throwing a pawn chess piece at Knox's head. "Just because you can't get into your girl's room, doesn't mean - Ow! Ow! Maria!"

Maria smiled innocently back at him, her hand quickly smoothing over where she had pinched Charlie on the arm.

"What, my sweet?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. "You owe me a kiss for that."

"For what?" She looked like the perfect picture of innocence.

Charlie scoffed playfully and moved to pinch her cheek lightly. "You're lucky you're cute," he mumbled against her mouth as he bent his head down to capture her lips in a light kiss.

Maria smiled into the kiss before pulling away, feeling a little shy around their friends even if the boys had gotten more than used to their public displays of affection.

"Maria," Todd called out, shooting her an overdramatic betrayed look. "You promised me I would hear you if I recited poetry. I feel duped now."

Maria opened and closed her mouth, shocked at Todd's animated expression and his show of crossing his arms over his chest and sighing out loud, despite the twinkling amusement in his eyes. "Now, Todd Anderson," she said, wagging a finger at him. "The deal was that you performed in the cave. I don't believe that's happened yet."

"Maria Keating, you lie," Todd fired back with a grin.

"Liar, liar."

"Pants on fire."

"Now, see here -"

As they continued to chat, Neil couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt washing over him. He looked around at his group of friends and he knew, he just needed to say one word and they would all be by his side immediately, ready to take his father down. He wanted to confide in his friends and wanted their comfort, but he also didn't want to burden them with this problem - not when they were all laughing and enjoying themselves like right now.

But the nagging feeling of uncertainty lingered in the back of his mind, and he failed to shake it off. So, Neil excused himself from the group, hoping that talking to Keating would help in some way.

••●••

Keating was seated at his desk in his office. He was writing a letter and occasionally looking up at the framed photos on his desk. One was a framed photo of him, his wife, and Maria. He smiled at the image, remembering the moment before the photo when Alyssa had bent down to kiss Maria's cheek while repositioning the bouquet of flowers his niece held in her hand to look better for the picture. She was always a perfectionist when it came to photos.

The other photo was one of just Alyssa playing the cello. He had always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, ever since they first met.

Keating sighed, lifting up the photo and feeling that swirling feeling of homesickness. My my, he missed her so. It seemed the age-old saying of "distance making the heart grow fonder" did ring true after all.

There was a knock at his door and Keating placed the photo down.

"It's open," he called out.

Neil entered and closed the door behind him.

"Neil, what's up?" Keating asked, noticing his nervous appearance. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Can I speak to you for a minute?" Neil asked.

"Certainly," Keating nodded. "Sit."

Neil went to take a seat but noticed the chair was piled up with books. He picked them up and Keating moved from his seat to help him.

"I'm sorry," Neil winced. "Here."

"Excuse me," Keating said, plucking the pile of books from his hand and dropping them onto his desk. "Bit of a bookworm, I am."

"Maria too, I noticed," Neil said, laughing lightly. "Once she's in a book, it's hard to get her attention."

Keating nodded. "Yes, my niece and I are the worse sorts of people to talk to once a book is in our hands," he laughed. "Can I get you some tea?"

"Tea. Sure."

Keating smiled and went to the table in the corner of the office and began pouring out two cups. "Would you like some milk or sugar in that?"

"No, thanks," Neil said, shaking his head. He peered around the office. "Gosh, they don't give you much room around here."

"No," Keating said, returning with the cups of tea. "It's part of the monastic oath. They don't want worldly things distracting me from my teaching."

Neil caught the twinkle of mirth in Keating's eyes and relaxed. It was so easy to be around Keating, to confide in him. At that moment, Neil was a little envious of Maria for having such a warm father figure to depend upon. It seemed that Keating supported everything Maria did and believed in.

Neil swallowed his emotions and glanced at the photos on Keating's desk and pointed at one. "Is that Maria?"

Keating glanced back at it with a paternal look and nodded affectionately. "It is," he said. "I believe she was fourteen then? Just after a singing recital. She was so nervous. I remember having to practically coax her out of her room and into the car. Like how you'd lure a puppy into their bed with some treats."

Neil laughed lightly at the thought and then glanced at the other photo - the one of the woman holding a cello. "She's pretty," he commented.

Keating smiled. "She's also in London. Makes it a little difficult sometimes."

"How can you stand it?"

"Stand what?"

"You can go anywhere. You can do anything," Neil said. "How can you stand being here?"

"'Cause I love teaching. I don't wanna be anywhere else," he said contemplatively. "When you love something with as much passion as I do with teaching, you make sacrifices."

Sacrifices.

There was that word again. It made something within Neil constrict tightly and he let out a shaky sigh. His father had sacrificed plenty to get him to Welton and was sure to have Neil remember it, but wouldn't he, Neil, be sacrificing so much if he were to listen to his father now?

If he were to really give up on acting? Wouldn't that too be a sacrifice on his part?

"What's up?" Keating asked, sensing that something was bothering his student.

"I just talked to my father," Neil said. "He's making me quit the play at Henly Hall. But acting - acting's everything to me," Neil looked at him desperately. "I- But he doesn't know. He- I can see his point. We're not a rich family like Charlie's and we- But he's planning the rest of my life for me, and I- H-He's never asked me what I want."

Keating looked at him for a moment. "Have you ever told your father what you just told me? About your passion for acting. You ever show him that?"

Neil shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can't talk to him this way," Neil said, dejectedly.

"Then you're acting for him, too," Keating said. "You're playing the part of the dutiful son. I know this sounds impossible, but you have to talk to him. You have to show him who you are, what your heart is."

"I know what he'll say," Neil said. "He'll tell me that acting's a whim, and I should forget it. That how they're counting on me. He'll just tell me to put it out of my mind, 'for my own good.'"

Keating reached over to clap a hand on Neil's shoulder. "You are not an indentured servant," he said. "If it's not a whim for you, you prove it to him by your conviction and your passion. You show him that and if she still doesn't believe you, well, by then you'll be out of school and you can do anything you want."

A tear fell onto Neil's cheek and he quickly wiped it away.

He didn't have that sort of time. He couldn't wait that long - until he was out of school to do something he truly and utterly loved.

Neil shook his head. "No. What about the play? The show's tomorrow night."

"Well, you have to talk to him before tomorrow night."

"Isn't there an easier way?"

"No," Keating said.

"I'm trapped," Neil breathed.

"No, you're not," Keating said firmly.

But Neil thought he was. He felt trapped between his passion and his father. He felt like he had no control over his own damned life. He knew that his father had his best interests at heart, but it felt suffocating.

How could he make his father understand his love for acting?

How could he convince him that it was more than just a whim? Neil didn't know what to do, and he felt truly and utterly hopeless - helpless.

He looked up at Keating, his eyes pleading for a solution. But Keating just looked back at him, his expression both reassuring and unwavering. Neil knew what he had to do - he had to talk to his father - but he didn't know if he had the actual courage to do it.

He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, with no safety net below. The only way to move forward was to jump but the fear of the unknown was overwhelming, was gripping.

As he walked out of Keating's office, Neil felt lost and alone. He didn't know what his future held and that thought terrified him beyond measure. He knew he needed to have a conversation with his father, but he didn't know if he was ready for the consequences it bore.

All he could do was hope that somehow, someway, things would work out in the end.

They had to, right?

••●••

He wasn't sure what he was doing, but Knox knew one thing and one thing for certain if he didn't do this, he would certainly regret it for the rest of his life.

Carpe diem, yeah?

He exited the door of the academy. The ground was covered with a thick layer of snow and he breathed out, watching his breath bellow in a cloud of smoke in front of him. He looked around to see if anyone was about and then hurried to the bike rack. He grabbed on and hurried off before his rationality told him otherwise.

••●••

"Chris Noel. Do you know where she is?" Knox asked when he entered the school. He gripped a handful of wildflowers in one hand.

"Um, I think she's in room 111," the girl answered, pointing down the hallway and Knox set off in that direction quickly.

"Thanks, he breathed."

Chris stood at her locker talking to a friend. She laughed at something they said, closing her locker without looking and froze when she noticed Knox coming toward her. She gulped, turning away.

"Excuse me. Chris," Knox called out to her.

Chris winced. "Knox, what are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize for the other night," Knox said. "I bought you these and a poem I wrote for you."

Chris pulled him aside, out of the main hallway when she noticed the curious eyes the other students were giving him. She looked at him desperately. "Knox, don't you know that, if Chet finds you here he'll kill you?"

"I don't care," Knox said. "I love you, Chris."

"Knox, you're crazy."

"Look, I acted like a jerk and I know it," Knox said and then thrust the flowers towards Chris. "Please, accept these. Please."

"No," Chris said firmly. "I can't. Forget it, Knox."

She turned to walk away and as the school bell rang, she entered her classroom, closing the door behind her.

Undaunted, Knox followed, opening the door and standing before her desk.

"Knox, I don't believe this," Chris said, staring at him with wide eyes.

"All I'm asking you to do is listen," he said and took out a sheet of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and began to read his poem, the classroom grew quiet as everyone stopped to listen.

"The heavens made a girl named Chris. With hair and skin of gold. To touch her would be paradise."

Chris held her head in her hands in embarrassment.

••●••

Knox snuck back into the academy through the side door. On his way, he snatched up a slide of toast from the counter and motioned to one of the staff to keep it secret.

They shook their head and rolled their eyes at him good-naturedly as he began to eat the toast and hurried away before the school bell rang to catch up with his friends.

Charlie noticed him first and pushed Cameron aside. "Get out of here. Cameron, you fool," he said with a laugh as Cameron swore back at him.

"Hey," Charlie said, grabbing Knox's jacket before the boy could slide away. "How'd it go? Did you read it to her?"

"Yeah," Knox said, trying to still his face and hide his bursting emotions.

The other boys of the group began to get all excited but Charlie shushed them quickly.

"What'd she say?" Pitts asked.

"Nothing," Knox said.

"Nothing," Charlie let go of Knox's jacket and pushed him aside. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"Nothing," Knox said, "But I did it."

He turned to walk down the hall and the others chased after him.

"What did she say? I know she had to say something," Charlie called after him.

"Come here, Knox," Pitts called too, desperate for a recap of the story.

But Knox only turned back and grinned at the group. "Seize the day!"

••●••

The word "COLLEGE" was scrawled across the board of Keating's classroom in big bold letters.

"Gentlemen, and lady," Keating said. "Today we will consider a skill which is indispensable for getting the most out of college - analyzing books you haven't read." He paused and looked around at the boys laughing.

"College will probably destroy your love for poetry. Hours of boring analysis, dissection, and criticism will see to that. College will also expose you to all manner of literature - much of it transcendent works of magic that you must devour; some of it utter dreck that you must avoid like the plague."

Keating paced in front of the class as he spoke. "Suppose you are taking a course entitled, 'Modern Novels.' All semester you have been reading masterpieces such as the touching Pere Goriot by Balzac and the moving Fathers and Sons by Turgenev, but when you receive your assignment for your final paper, you discover that you are to write an essay on the theme of parental love in The Doubtful Debutate, a novel - and I use that term generously here - by none other than the professor himself."

Keating looked at the boys and Maria with a raised eyebrow and then continued. "After reading the first three pages of the book, you realize that you would rather volunteer for combat than waste your precious earthly time infecting your mind with this sewage, but do you despair? Take an F? Absolutely not. Because you are prepared."

He continued his lesson as the class watched and listened intently.

And then he stopped. "Gentlemen, lady, analyzing dreadful books you haven't read will be on your final exam, so I suggest you practice on your own. ow for some traps of college exams," he grinned. "Take out a blue book and a pencil. This is a pop quiz."

They all quickly obeyed as Keating passed out the tests. He then set up a screen in the front of the room, and then went to the back of the room and set up a slide projector.

"Big universities are Sodoms and Gomorrahs filled with those delectable beasts we see so little of here: women," he said and smiled. "The level of distraction is dangerously high, but this quiz is designed to prepare you. Let me warn you, this test will count. Begin."

Everyone began their tests.

Keating lit up the slide projector and put a slide into the machine. He focused on the screen a slide of a beautiful, college-aged girl, leaning over to pick up a pencil. The girl had a remarkable figure, and, bending over as she did, her panties were exposed.

The boys glanced up at the screen from their tests. Almost all of them did double takes.

"Concentrate on your tests, boys. You have twenty minutes," Keating said, as he advanced the projector. This time he focused on a slide of a beautiful woman in scanty lingerie from a magazine ad.

"You look at those and I'll gouge your eyes out, Dalton," Maria whispered over to Charlie.

Charlie grinned. "Jealousy looks becoming on you, my sweet."

"Don't think your sugar lips can distract me," Maria said with a sweet smile. "I'll be watching you."

Charlie flushed, absolutely revelling in the heat of Maria's jealousy. Man, he loved it. But true to his words, he hadn't looked toward the screen, but rather, pointedly turned his body to face and steal glances at Maria only.

Keating watched his niece and Charlie from the back of the room, rolling his eyes slightly.

The other boys glanced up at the screen and down to their papers, struggling to concentrate.

Keating watched their obvious difficulty, amused, as he continued the slide show of beautiful women in revealing and provocative poses, tight blowups of naked female Greek statues - women in a seemingly endless, tantalizing stream.

The boys' heads bobbed up and down from the screen to their blue books - well, all save for a few oddballs. Charlie was too busy looking between his blue book and shooting flirty smiles at Maria who rolled her eyes, but watched him carefully just in case his eyes did wonder. On his paper, Knox had only written the words 'Chris. Chris. Chris.' over and over again as he stared numbly at the screen. And Neil looked blankly elsewhere, neither focused on the screen nor on his blue book.

When the twenty minutes were up, Keating finished the slides and collected the tests, holding in a smile as the boys took advantage of the fact he had left a final slide on the screen as he did so.

"That is it for today boys and lady, keep it in there," he said just as the bell rang.

Everyone got up to leave except for Neil, who stayed at his desk, hands clasped together. Keating slowly approached him and sat down. "Did you talk to your father?"

Neil swallowed. "Uh, he didn't like it one bit, but at least he's letting me stay in the play," the lie tickled the roof of his mouth. "He won't be able to make, make it. He's in Chicago. But, uh, I think he's gonna let me stay with acting."

"Really?" Keating looked surprised. "You told him what you told me?"

"Yeah," Neil lied again. "He wasn't happy. But he'll be gone at least four days. I don't think he'll make the show, but I think he'll let me stay with it. 'Keep up the school work.'" he mimicked his father's deep baritone and stood abruptly from his seat, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Thanks, Captain," he gathered his books and left the room before Keating could say anything more.