by Collin Earl
****
"You and your mom have a really weird relationship." Casey looked perplexed. The look on his face made Monson snicker.
"Oh!" Monson smacked his forehead. "I forgot you wouldn't know."
"I wouldn't know what?"
"Molly isn't my mother."
"OK . . . then who is she?"
"My lawyer."
Everyone except Monson burst out laughing. This continued for a while until they noticed that Monson was not joining in.
"You’re serious?" Artorius said.
"It's a really long story, and it's kind of depressing, so let's not talk about it right now."
"Fair enough," Casey said, picking up his luggage.
"OK, but I want to hear this story, so don't forget to tell us," Artorius said.
"Why are you so interested in Molly?" Monson asked, flummoxed.
"She was crying," Artorius said, something close to wonderment in his voice.
"Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?"
"My dad is a lawyer," Artorius answered, "and I wasn't aware that lawyers could cry."
They all laughed this time.
"Mr. Gatt," Casey said, moving toward him. "I believe you were going to show us where we're staying."
"That I was, Mr. Kay," he replied with a bow. "If you will please follow me."
They gathered all their stuff once more and moved through the arch and down the center pathway toward the Atrium.
"This is your entrance," Mr. Gatt explained, looking over to Monson. "It makes it a lot easier than trying to navigate the boys' or girls' dormitories.”
Mr. Gatt took the boys through large glass double doors and started up a red brick path toward the center of the Atrium. The boys followed, marveling at their surroundings, including some expertly crafted stonework.
"Wow!" Monson said as he moved through the Atrium. "That's amazing."
There were statues—a lot of them: stone depictions of heroes and heroines, gods and goddesses, all on the bottom floor of the student dorm. At the center was a large and grandiose foundation with hundreds of spouting veins of water that arced and rippled in a variety of paths. As if this wasn't enough, on top of the fountain stood the statue of a giant, probably twenty-five feet tall and weighing at least a couple of tons. The features of the statue were finely shaped, especially the eyes. Spotlights illuminated his perch, forcing the eye to this spot in the Atrium.
"Jupiter," Mr. Gatt said simply.
"Ahh," Monson said, comprehension finally hitting him. Of course. Who better than the king of the gods to watch over the students? he thought. The old myths and legends of antiquity were one of the things Monson enjoyed most about history. The gods especially were of interest to him. Monson asked himself more than once what it would be like to have almost infinite power at your fingertips and still have all the imperfections and contradictions that are so much a part of the human condition. He had heard the saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely. Monson wondered if that was true.
He took a step closer and examined the fine detail and the smooth marble. He really liked this statue.
"So, who is this guy supposed to be?" Casey asked, obviously bored.
"Jupiter," Artorius answered.
"How did you know that?" Casey asked, sounding slightly surprised.
"Well," Artorius said, starting to grin. "The huge thunderbolt kind of gave it away. Then, of course, there was the whole part where Mr. Gatt just said it was Jupiter."
Monson thought he heard Mr. Gatt stifle a laugh, though when he spoke his voice sounded quite level.
"Over here, please. The Horum Vir's entrance is right around the corner."
Casey and Artorius grabbed their stuff and started after Mr. Gatt. Monson, however, stood for a moment more staring at the stunning sculpture. He looked up into the blank, staring face of Jupiter, king of the gods, and shuddered.
"Absolute power . . . ." He placed a hand on his chin and stared directly into the face of statue. "So how did that work out for you, Jupiter, old boy? It’s lonely at the top, no? Well, if it makes you feel any better it ain’t that great at the bottom either."
Monson winked. Why he winked at an inanimate object he wasn’t sure. He just felt inclined to do so and obviously the statue felt the same way: It winked back at him.
Monson froze. That did not just happen.
"Monson! Hurry up or we're going to be late." Casey's voice sounded a short distance off.
Monson called after him, keeping his eyes on Jupiter, "Late? Late for what?" Nothing came in response.
Monson tore his eyes from the king of the Roman gods and hurried after the others.