Author's Note: So this is just a little idea that popped into my head a while ago...I don't know if it's really any good, but I found it to be kind of humorous :] Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of the poets...yet.
An eleven year old Neil gulped, glancing around him at the sea of boys and parents. His father was speaking to the Headmaster, some guy named Nolan, and his mom was off with a group of women, gossiping about this and that. First days at Welton were killer, especially when you couldn't find anyone you knew.
It was as he was scanning the crowd for a familiar face that a fist collided with his upper arm. He flinched, jumping away from his assailant, and rubbed what was soon to be a bruise. "Ow," he complained, glaring at the boy standing beside him.
He had pointed features and was sporting a confident smirk. "Good," he spoke. "You aren't crying. We can be friends, now. There was an annoying square over there that just starting bawling. Bootlicker." He presented his hand for a shake and boasted, "I'm Charlie Dalton."
Neil raised an eyebrow and cautiously shook Charlie's hand. "Neil Perry." He glanced behind Charlie to see another boy, this one much shorter and quieter. He was glancing around Charlie's side, eyes magnified by glasses, his hair curling in different directions.
Charlie noticed Neil's gaze and turned. "Oh," Charlie exclaimed, as if just remembering that boy was behind him. "This is Stephen Meeks. Meeks, this is Neil."
Stephen Meeks rolled his eyes at Charlie's authoritative ways. "I'm able to hear Charlie," he said, then returned his eyes to Neil. "Nice to meet you Neil." He nodded his head in greeting, extending his hand as well.
Neil smiled. "You too…Meeks." He wasn't used to calling boys by their last names, but if that's what they wanted, he saw no reason not to.
"Meeks was a good sport, as well, not a tear," Charlie explained, "So we can all be friends."
A voice rose above the din of the crowd. "MEEKS!"
The three boys glanced around, wondering just where the voice had sprung from. It didn't take them long to see a tall, lanky boy with a buzz cut sifting his way through the crowd. Charlie automatically raised a fist before Meeks grabbed his arm. "You don't need to punch him Charlie," he warned, giving him a look. "That's Gerard Pitts. I've known him my whole life. He won't even notice you've hit him."
Charlie looked slightly disappointed when he lowered his arm, but relented anyway, a scowl spreading across his face for just a second.
Gerard Pitts bounded up to the small group, a silly grin plastered on his mouth. "Hey Meeks! How was your summer?" It was apparent they had gone to school with each other before.
Meeks shrugged his shoulders. "Not too bad, lots of time with the family." He jerked his thumb at the other two boys. "This is Neil Perry and Charlie Dalton."
"I'm Gerard. Gerard Pitts." He reached out and took Neil and Charlie's hands from their sides and pumped them up and down.
Charlie had one eyebrow raised high as he leaned over to Meeks and whispered, "You're sure I can't punch him?"
*
The newly formed group was making their way to the dorms, interested to see who they would be stuck rooming with for the year, when they came across what appeared to be a fight in the courtyard. Charlie held up a hand to halt his friends and he watched curiously as a few older Weltonites pushed a boy their age around in a circle.
"C'mon guys, stop it," the young boy pleaded. He held up his hands as he stumbled around, brown hair mussed, but posed no real threat to the bigger boys.
"Charlie," Neil spoke up urgently, "Are your fists good for other things besides finding friends?"
Charlie rolled his eyes and smirked at Neil. "Do you even have to ask?" He confidently headed over to the trio of older students that were harassing one of his classmates. "Excuse me gentlemen, but what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Neil, Meeks, and Pitts stared on in amazement at Charlie's bold words. He was dead.
And, sure enough, Charlie and the other boy that had previously been shoved around returned ten minutes later, bruised and battered, but grinning all the same. "Guys, this is Knox Overstreet. He can be our friend as well."
Neil rolled his eyes. Apparently all of their friends had to be approved by Charlie. Not that he minded. It was a well rounded group that had been slapped together so far.
Strolling into their dormitory, the boys veered to the left, where a sheet with names and room numbers was posted. Charlie and Knox ended up being together, Meeks was with a boy named George Hopkins, and Pitts was with someone whose name he couldn't pronounce. He groaned. "Great, now I'm going to have to worry all the time about messing up their name."
Meeks pat him on the back. "It's okay, Pitts."
"Yeah, they have a weird name, and you're weird looking, so everything'll balance out," Charlie assured him with a smirk, receiving what could only be explained as a motherly glare from behind Meeks' glasses.
Neil ran a finger down the sheet, finding his name and mumbling, "Richard Cameron. 231."
Charlie's hand was suddenly grasping Neil's elbow in a death grip. "We can't be friends with him, Neil! That's the crier!"
Neil rolled his eyes, shrugging Charlie off good-naturedly. "Charlie, the poor kid's probably just as scared and alone as we are," he pointed out.
"So let him make his own friends!" Charlie hollered as the group stared down the hall in the direction of the rooms. Out of room 231 a small, orange-haired boy with an abundance of freckles, stumbled, looking completely lost. "Yeah," Charlie affirmed. "That's him. I say you fake allergies to gingers." Meeks continued to glare from under his glasses until Charlie realized what hue Meeks' hair was.
Neil shook his head. "Charlie, forget it. Richard needs friends too, and I say he's in." It was odd already considering them as a group, but he felt so comfortable around these boys that it was natural.
Knox, with that goofy grin of his plastered to his face, nodded. "Sounds good to me."
Pitts and Meeks, nodded. Pitts, to follow the herd, and Meeks, seeking justice for all orange haired boys across the world.
Charlie crossed his arms and grumbled, "Fine. But I'm telling you…the guy looks like a total nosebleed."
Author's Note: So yeah...that's a take on the possibility of how the Poets met each other...I figure if another young DPS story pops into my head, I'll just post it here, but as of right now...I don't have too many ideas. But I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading :D