Aaliyah

me and @missoverstreet are lit platonic clapton and riley

*clears throat*

Neil ; Billy Joel, the Smiths

Todd ; Leonard Cohen, Florence and the Machine

Charlie ; David Bowie, Queen

Knox ; the Beatles, Elvis

Pitts ; ABBA (and it's non negotiable)

Meeks ; Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks

he’s bisexual but absolutely clueless about it. he’s only ever really crushed on girls and never even considered the possibility of him liking a boy. he’s not homophobic or anything, it just genuinely never crossed his mind

I imagine eventually he might have a crush on a guy and be like “wait a minute- oh.” and then just move on with his life as if nothing happened

he probably never officially comes out to the dead poets either. at some point he just starts yapping about a boy he’s crushing on without any further context (and nobody is very surprised)

his love language is gift giving, particularly gifts he made himself (e.g. poems!!)

on that note, he loves crafting. he likes to tear out empty pages out of his notebooks (or pages he doesn’t need anymore) and make little origami butterflies or hearts or foxes out of them

(he usually slips these into his friends’ bags or leave them in their dorm rooms. Todd was so confused the first time he found a little paper fox on his bed until the others told him ‘oh, that’s just Knox’)

STOP CALLING CHARLIE FUCKING NUWANDA

HE HAS A NAME. CHARLIE DALTON

ROBERT SEAN LEONARD as DANNY

the other poets don’t (at least i chose to believe for my own mental health) intentionally leave him out. i just think when your in a big group like that it’s easy to get left out.

what that thing? “there’s always a duo within a trio”?

i don’t think they leave him out or push him aside on purpose. i just think including cameron, who’s a bit odd, a bit of a kiss ass, isn’t on the top of their priority list.

And to add on to that— i don’t think cameron puts himself on the outskirts bc be thinks himself better. i think if you really watch the movie critically you see him wanting to be included at every turn.

he goofs off with the boys at dinner, he goes to the meetings even though he thinks them dangerous, he helps them study (idk about you but i have NEVER helped someone i didn’t like study..)

the poets don’t intentionally leave him out but they don’t make concentrated effort to bring him in. it’s no wonder when the group he’s never felt fully a part of disintegrates, he’s the first person to offer a tell all.

he wasn’t a terrible person plotting against them from the beginning. he was a 17 year old kid looking for approval from his peers.

I walked across the campus, not taking in my surroundings, lost in a haze of worry—that’s the moment I ran into Cornelia Perry. I didn’t know who she was in that moment, but I would soon. She wore a pastel blue dress and a simple white cardigan. Her long brown hair was perfectly curled, and she was beautiful, but that wasn’t quite the point. There was a confidence in the casual smile on her face, in the carefree way she had been leaning on a column, and the way she quickly shook my hand: “So I hear we’re going to be roommates. Cornelia Perry.” 

I was processing all this, much too slow, but after an awkward pause, I mumbled, “Dorothy Anderson.” In situations like this, there is much you think you are supposed to say, but nothing that you really know to say. 

I kept walking, slowly, to my dorm, but stopped when I heard Cornelia say, “Why’d you leave Balincrest?”

So, she knew some things about me. I didn’t exactly know how to feel about that. In general, I liked not to be perceived. “My sister went here.”

“Oh, so you’re that Anderson.”

I didn’t say anything in response—what was there to say? I was used to being compared to my sister. 

Especially by my parents.

***

I finally got to my dorm. It’s simple. You know, what you would expect out of a dorm: two single beds, two closets, two desks, a window. I stood near my desk, unpacking my suitcases and wishing I could hide there forever, but then I heard footsteps coming from the hallway. I heard the door creak open and turned my head sharply to see Cornelia walking in. I didn’t say anything to her, just turned my head back down to my desk. 

I heard a voice, making my head jolt. I must have looked rather ridiculous, what with all the head-turning I was doing. A girl with reddish-brown hair and similarly-colored freckles popped her head in. “Cornelia, study group tonight?” 

Cornelia responded, “Yeah sure.”

“Business as usual, eh? Hey, hear you got the new kid. Looks like a stiff!” The girl started laughing before catching my eye. “Oops,” she said awkwardly, though not as awkward as I felt, before walking away down the hall. 

Cornelia smiled at me somewhat sheepishly, and I got the feeling she was trying not to laugh. “Listen, don’t listen to Cameron. She was born with her foot in her mouth, you know what I mean?” 

I did not, in fact, know what she meant, but I was saved by a group of girls appearing in the doorway. Why did I have to be roommates with the popular one? 

Two of the girls both had long, brown hair, and the other short, curly blonde hair. Focusing on the hair was easier than looking them in the eye. One of the brown-haired girls leaned on the doorway and pointed at Cornelia. She had a smug expression on her face when she says, “Rumor has it, you did summer school.”

Cornelia smiled. “Yep. Chemistry. My father thought I should get ahead.” She moved her eyes as if she wanted to roll them but stopped herself. “How was your summer, slick?” She smirked on that word: slick.

“Keen.”

The girls entered the room. The smug girl whipped around and told the blonde, “Meeks. Door. Closed.” 

Meeks nodded dutifully, closing the door while saying, playfully, “Yes, ma’am.”

Cornelia leaned casually on the window sill before saying, “Ladies, what are the four pillars?”

“Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement,”  they all said in unison before laughing. The familarity between them all was obvious, and I stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, not really. I was too invisible to stick out at all. I just kept unpacking my luggage. 

The smug girl said, “Okay, study group. Meeks aced Latin. I didn’t quite flunk English. So, if you want, we’ve got our study group.”

Cornelia shrugged. “Sure. Cameron asked me too. Anyone mind including her?”

Smug girl seemed to pretend to consider this for a moment. “Hmm. Well. What’s her specialty, boot-licking?” She plopped herself down on Corneila’s bed. 

“Come on, she’s your roommate.”

Smug girl scoffed. “That’s not my fault.”

Meeks seemed to notice me for the first time. She smiled at me. She had a lopsided sort of smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Stephanie Meeks.” She pushed her glasses up her nose.

Cornelia got up from her place on the window sill and wrapped her arm around me. I was noticeably uncomfortable. Well, I thought it’s noticeable, but Cornelia didn't seem to notice. “This is Dorothy Anderson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Meeks said.

“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.

“Charlotte Dalton,” smug girl offered. “But everyone calls me Charlie. Suits me much better.”

The other brown-haired girl offers her hand to me. “Knoxleigh Overstreet.” I shook her hand.

“Dorothy’s sister was Elizabeth Anderson,” Cornelia explained, sitting down at the window again.

“Oh, yeah. Valedictorian. National merit scholar,” Charlie said.

“Well,” Meeks said with a slightly defeated tone of voice. “Welcome to Hell-ton.”

“It’s every bit as tough as they say,” Charlie warned, “unless you’re a genius like Meeks.” Her smirk seemed to grow when she mentioned Meeks.

“She flatters me. That’s why I help her with Latin.”

Charlie coughed. “And English. And trig.”

Well, they’re nice enough, I thought. I’ll just stay out of their way, and it should be fine.

There’s a knock on the door. “It’s open,” Cornelia called out.

The door opened, and a woman with a stern expression and even sterner eyes walked in. Cornelia practically jolted up from the window, her posture suddenly going rigid. “Mother, I’d thought you’d gone.” There’s a slight voice crack on gone. The other girls stood up too.

“Keep your seats, keep your seats,” Mrs. Perry said. “Cornelia, I've just spoken to Mrs. Nolan. I think that you're taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I've decided that you should drop the school annual.”

Cornelia shifted uncomfortably. “But I’m the assistant editor this year.”

Mrs. Perry’s expression seemed to soften. “Well, I’m sorry, Cornelia.”

“But, mother. I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Mrs. Perry’s expression turned cold again, and she walked out to the hallway. Cornelia hesitantly followed.

I could hear their conversation, and I couldn't help but eavesdrop. Sometimes that’s all my life was—existing, observing, and having no choice but to eavesdrop on conversations nobody cared if I listened in to or not.  

“Don’t ever dispute me in public. Do you understand?”

“Mother, I wasn’t disputing—” Cornelia’s tone was bordering on frustration, but I could tell she was trying to keep it in check.

“After you've finished school and find a suitable man to marry, you're on your own, then you can do as you damn well please. But until then, you do as I tell you. Is that clear?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Cornelia’s tone turned empty.

“You know how much this means to your father, don’t you?”

“Yes, mother. You know me, always taking on too much.”

“Well, that’s my girl. Now, listen, you need anything, you let us know, huh?”

“Yes, mother.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Cornelia walked back into the dorm, face expressionless. 

Charlie was visibly irritated. “Why doesn’t she just let you do what you want?”

Knoxleigh nodded. “Yeah, Cornelia, tell her off. It can’t get any worse.”

Cornelia scoffed. “Oh, that’s rich. Like you tell your parents off, Ms. Pre-Law and Ms. Pre-Med, even though neither of you actually get to become lawyers or doctors.”

Charlie shrugged, defeated. “Okay, so I don’t like it anymore than you do.”

“Well, just don’t tell me how to talk to my mother. You guys are the same way.”

“Alright, alright. Jesus,” Knoxleigh said. “So. What are you going to do?”

Cornelia slumped against the window. “What I have to do. Drop the annual.”

“Well, I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it. It’s just a bunch of jerks trying to impress Nolan,” Charlie said.

Cornelia crossed her arms. “I don’t care. I don’t give a damn about any of it.”

Meeks looked awkwardly around before saying, “Well, uh, Latin, eight o’clock in my room?”

“Yes,” Cornelia said, a bit too forcefully and gruffly.

“Dorothy, you’re welcome to join us,” Meeks said. 

I twisted my hands together, nervous at her mention of me.

“Yeah, come along,” Knoxleigh agreed.

I finally peeled my eyes off the spot on the floor I had been staring at. “Thanks,” I said, even though, of course, I wouldn’t be going, and I knew very well none of them would care.