The House of Grey- Volume 1

by Earl, Collin

  "Got you, Arthur," the new boy said, landing the tip of the stick on the former's throat. "That's one for me. It appears you're in for a bad year."

  "Don't get cocky, Casey!" Arthur shot back angrily. "First day of school and you were lucky. You caught me off-guard."

  The new boy laughed. Turning around, he looked toward Monson. Dressed in expensive denim and a polo shirt, he was handsome, but for some reason the style didn't suit him.

  His features were normal enough, with dirty blond hair, a soft jawline, and smooth eyebrows. Yes, he was quite normal except for the eyes: They seemed a bit large for his face, almost like his mom had mated with a bat. Monson could tell that the boy came from money, just like the cute blonde girl, but the effect of the expensive clothes was lost in the sweaty figure standing before him. Another unexpected detail: The boy's hands were rough and callused, worn and heavy with use. Monson was impressed. This boy knew a hard day's work. Monson watched as he lobbed his mock sword from hand to hand. It looked very much at home.

  "Who's the new guy?" asked the boy called Casey, gesturing toward Monson. He stared at Monson, narrowing his eyes. "And what happened to his face?"

  Monson breathed deeply. It was about time to make his exit.

  "No idea," Arthur said, also looking at Monson. "I actually attacked him thinking it was you."

  "You attacked him thinking it was me? HA! How thick are you?"

  "Shut up, Casey."

  "Better watch it, Arthur," Casey said, swinging the stick back in an arc and flourishing it outrageously. "I don't want to have to give you another thrashing."

  "Oh, is that what it was?" asked Arthur, who sounded like he was starting to get angry. "How about I pull out the surburito and crush that fat melon of yours right now?"

  "Bring it on!" Casey said, also sounding riled up. "I'll stomp the fool out of you."

  "Guys, calm down," Monson said rashly, moving to stand between them. "We still have orientation to attend, and let's face it, it's way too early in the morning for a thrashing."

  Surprise etched in their sweaty faces, the two boys looked at each other and burst into laughter. Monson smiled at them, not quite sure what to do. He opened his mouth to say something, but realized that he couldn't think of anything, and shut it again. They all stood for a brief span more, Monson feeling awkward.

  Getting his fill, Monson turned away, embarrassed. He walked away, preparing to grab his stuff and go hide in a hole, but before he could move more than a few feet, a hand found his shoulder and whipped him back around.

  "Where do you think you’re going?" Casey said, inspecting Monson with a beady eye.

  "Well . . . I was just . . . . " Monson replied sheepishly. The two boys just smiled as they stood in silence.

  "This is the part where you tell us your name," Casey whispered, extending the hand he had used to grab Monson. He didn't sound angry, quite the opposite in fact. Monson replayed the events quickly in his head. He was starting to feel kind of stupid.

  "Monson," he said, shaking the outstretched hand, "Monson Grey. And you are?"

  "Cassius Kay, but you can call me Casey. Everyone does." Casey gestured to the larger boy, who wasn't paying attention to the exchange of pleasantries, but rather gazing at a group of girls several cars down. He had a comical look on his face as he eyed one of the girls longingly.

  "The brute ogling the ladies is Arthur Paine. He -- " But Casey was cut short when Arthur spun on his heel and bellowed angrily.

  "How many times do I have to ask you not to call me Arthur?"

  "I told you there's no way I'm calling you that ridiculous name," Casey said calmly. "I can't say it without laughing! That's how dumb a name it is!"

  "It's based on Lucius Artorius Castus," Arthur said, a smug look on his face, "as in King Arthur. How could that ever be a dumb name?"

  Casey moaned, covering his eyes with his hand. "How many times are we going to have to have this discussion? Artorius Castus doesn't exist, just as King Arthur doesn't exist. They weren't the same person because neither of them were real people. Besides, why would you change it to Artorius? Even if he were real, it's still a stupid name. "

  "And I've already told you, Cassius," Artorius said, trying to make Casey's name sound like an insult, "if Artorius wasn't real, then where did they get the Round Table, huh?"

  He said it with total conviction.

  "Did you really just ask me that?" Casey retorted.

  "I hate to interrupt," Monson said before they got back into the swing of their argument, "but why Artorius? What's wrong with Arthur? I think it's a nice name. Why change it?"

  Artorius sighed so deeply and with such melancholy that Monson had to wonder if he was serious. Artorius continued to look regretful, then said, "Do you know how many times I’ve been called Weasley in my lifetime?"

  Monson looked at Casey, a smile on his face, his lips parted. Casey, however, preempted him.

  "If you mention that book, I swear I'm going to punch you."

  "Wouldn't dream of it, though have you considered changing your name to Dudley? I think it suits you. "

  "Oh, you are so going to get it!"

  Monson laughed, but Casey wasn't done yet.

  "Ok, back to my original question. What happened to your face?"

  "Casey!" Artorius stammered, "You can't say things like that!"

  "What are you talking about?" Monson interjected. "You asked if I got in a fight with a meat grinder! How is that any better?"

  Artorius looked confused. "Is that bad? I thought it was rather manly."

  Casey sneered. "Only you would think that was manly."

  Casey looked back to Monson, obviously wanting him to answer. Monson smiled. He liked these two already.

  "Don't be jealous of my dashing good looks."

  "Don't worry about that."

  Monson, the retort on the tip of his tongue, was cut short by a call he recognized as Molly's. He totally forgot; they had somewhere to be. Gathering himself, he turned back toward the boys and said, "We'd better get moving. We don't want them to start without us."

  "Hold on," Casey said, starting to move away. "I'll get my crap and meet you guys at the central passage. You'd better go too, Arthur. I expect your mommy is waiting for you."

  "Bite me," Arthur growled, hurrying away. Casey laughed and cantered out of sight. Monson collected his belongings, including the mock weapon that lay forgotten on the ground. Once situated, he started to move purposefully toward Molly, who was standing not far away, beckoning Monson toward her.

  "Are you ready?" she asked as he neared her. She was eyeing him expectantly. He nodded but didn't say anything. Molly grabbed one of his bags and started toward the far corner of the parking lot. They walked briskly, chatting amicably. Monson wasn't really that interested; he was still thinking about the two boys he had just met. Eventually, they fell in behind a large group of parents and students who were talking quietly about something. There was a hint of conspiracy in their voices.

  "He's here? What do you mean, he's here?” a tall blonde woman was asking a man who appeared to be her husband. "Isn't he supposed to be locked up somewhere? I heard he's a criminal."

  "Those are all rumors. Actually, from what I heard they don't really know where he's been. Just that he disappeared suddenly and now is back. They weren't even sure he was going to redeem the position," the man said, leaning into his wife. "To think the new Horum Vir is someone like that when the Diamond is still attending. Preposterous."

  Diamond? As in the stone? Monson thought as a feeling of déjà vu assaulted him. He thought back to their entrance into the guest parking lot and the computerized voice. His curiosity sparked, Monson turned to Molly and whispered, "What's a Horum Vir? It sounds familiar."

  Molly smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Not a what, Monson," she said, "But a who." Monson, confused, looked at Molly, his gaze unwavering, waiting for her to explain. When she didn't say anything, he said, "Molly, do you know something that you
aren't telling me?"

  "Monson, honey," Molly said vaguely, "This isn't the time. You know that I can't walk and talk at the same time. I get all tongue twisted."

  "Molly, we're standing still."

  "How about that!"

  "Molly Allison Pennmentail, cough it up!"

  "Monson, dear," she said, her tone suddenly switching from happy to resigned, even weary, "there is something, but I don't know if you’re quite ready. Now is just not the time."

  He glared at her, trying to show his discontent. She didn't falter under his gaze, but stood firmly, holding eye contact. It appeared that she was trying to hold back a smile.

  "You're making fun of me." Monson's eyes narrowed. "Please tell me, what's the deal?"

  "Oh, all right," she said, choking back a laugh. "You have to promise not to get mad. It's not like I wanted to hide anything from you, I was just —"

  Artorius and Casey nudged into them, and Molly stopped talking. "Hey hey," Casey said, pulling in behind Monson. "Monson, honey, who are your friends?"

  "Uh . . . uh, " Monson stammered, trying figure out how to explain that they weren't really his friends, but the big kid had attacked him thinking he was the short, wiry one. Casey, saving him an explanation, bowed and said, "I am called Casey. 'Tis a pleasure to meet such a fine and desirable lady."

  "Dude," Artorius said, shoving Casey slightly, "what the heck are you bowing for? Nobody does that."

  Casey glared at him, and then cracked a smile when he and Artorius made eye contact. Artorius glared back, but also ended up grinning. He then took the opportunity to make his introduction.

  "Artorius," he said, holding out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  Molly eyed them both for a second.

  "Molly Pennmentail," she replied primly, ignoring his hand. Then, without warning, she bowed. Casey broke into a fit of laughter, and Artorius turned a bright red.

  Molly and Monson joined in the laughter, as did Artorius . . . eventually.

  Guided by lighted arrows, the students and parents migrated from the parking area into ornate covered walkways. As they moved along, Monson saw different groups of older students greet each other in a variety of ways from high fives to kisses, each of the students seeming to address each other in some unique way. Girls grouped together as if magnetically drawn to one another. The females laughed and whispered, eyeing boys expectantly, an air of secrecy lingering around them. Large groups of boys gathered in well-established and obvious cliques, with the normal clichéd partitions of jocks, geeks, and nerds doing their utmost to avoid one another. Monson gawked. There were a lot more people than he had expected. The realization made him uncomfortable.

  The hallway divided into two paths that presumably led off into different parts of the school. Many of the older students followed the right fork of the hall while the rest, including Monson’s group, steered to the left. Monson wondered where the others were going, but didn't care enough to inquire. Casey was talking sports with Artorius and Molly. They seemed to be disagreeing over something.

  "You're senile!" Artorius said bitterly. "I don't care how good we are, there is no way."

  "Arthur, you have to have faith, brother," Casey said, slapping him on the back. "Once they see us play, they won't be able to keep us off the field."

  "Casey," Artorius said in a reasonable tone, "all joking aside, you have to be realistic." He looked grim, like what he was saying was costing him a lot of effort. "There is no way that you and I are going to get on the top team, never mind actually playing. They have never had a freshman play varsity at Coren University. Never."

  "You know," Molly said, smiling and placing a hand on Monson, "Monson is automatically on the team."

  "What?!" Monson shot back, "What exactly am I automatically on?"

  "The Legion," Molly said, acting as if this was the most obvious answer.

  "Thanks Molly," Monson replied sarcastically, "and what is the Legion?"

  Casey was the one who answered. "The Coren University football team," he said in awe.

  "How did you do that?" Artorius asked, looking slightly annoyed.

  "I have no idea," Monson said with mild shock. He looked inquiringly at Molly. She merely smiled but said nothing. Casey and Artorius were both looking at Monson with something close to reverence. Monson felt his face turning red. He quickly started examining the courtyard and buildings that were now in front of them in order to avoid the gazes of Casey and Artorius.

  "OK, Grey," Casey said, breaking the silence. "I gotta ask, how did you pull—"

  He was cut off when Molly placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Apparently she didn't want him asking any questions.

  The courtyard of Coren University looked like it belonged in a brochure for ancient Rome. The yard was completely enclosed by a small rock wall about three feet tall and a walkway that ran parallel to it. The path zigzagged between large oaks and willows and was accented by lush and well-kept lawns. An abundance of gardens with all kinds of flowers and shrubs, many of which were on the tail end of blooming, added just the right touch of the outdoors. The gardens were perfect . . . or close to it.

  On the opposite side of the gardens, in the distance, older students pushed toward a large, looming building that was extravagantly lit. His group of what Monson could only assume was new students continued down the largest of the rocky paths looking nervous but excited. They walked for what seemed like a long time, owing partly to the sheer size of the campus. The nervous atmosphere probably caused that feeling to intensify, making the walk feel longer than it really was. As they traveled farther along, the students saw many buildings scattered around the grounds. Monson noticed the names of each building on large stone slabs placed methodically in front. The plaques were inscribed with names like "Caesar's Hall" and "Home of the Five Good Emperors." Casey and Artorius seemed to be enjoying the grandeur of Coren University just as much as he was. In the short time he had known the two boys, this was the quietest they had been.

  The three boys and Molly followed the other new students, who collectively seemed to know where they were going, until they came to the doors of a massive building. The slab outside it said ‘Coliseum’. It resembled a mix between modern architecture and the old Roman Coliseum. The transition between styles was smooth but deliberate, the characteristics of both at times coming together to create something distinct from the individual contributions. It was quite the sight.

  "Didn't hold anything back, did they?" came Casey's voice from behind him.

  "Kind of intimidating, isn't it?" Monson heard Artorius remark.

  Molly was the one who answered. "I think that's the point."

  All three boys looked at her, puzzled.

  "It all fits, if you think about it," she said, her eyes still on the building. "This school is the very definition of haughty. Some of the most renowned and talented minds of the last century have either studied or taught here. Very special people, my boys, more special than any of you could know. When you have special people, what better way advertise, than . . . well, this?"

  She looked at the boys as she gestured at Coren’s coliseum. "You take the good with the bad. There are some great things that are going to happen here for you, but keep your guard up."

  Monson, Casey, and Artorius all looked at her with confusion etched on their faces. Molly noticed their expressions and said, "All I'm saying is that I'm glad the three of you met, Cassius, Artorius, and Monson. The three amigos. It has a sort of ring to it."

  "Duh," Casey said, "they totally made a movie about it, but never mind that, how did you know—"

  The massive doors of the modern coliseum opened, effectively silencing everyone in the crowd. A man walked toward them, a slight bounce in his step. He was approaching middle age, probably no more than forty, with a little gray in his short, dark hair, and an experienced look about him. He wore a crisp, dark suit and walked with confidence and energy and wore a contagious smile across his face. The m
an covered the distance to the new students quickly, though probably not quickly enough for the anxious crowd. He stopped in front of the nervous students.

  "Welcome," the man said, giving some of the closer students a little wink. "I am Markin Gatt, a teacher here at Coren and your guide." He bowed slightly to all of them.

  "I am here to take you the rest of the way, as the path ahead is somewhat treacherous," he said with a knowing smile.

  The man scanned the crowd, still smiling, and lingered for a fraction of a second on Molly, but when Monson looked inquiringly at her he saw no signs of recognition. Maybe he imagined it.

  "Parents," the man was now calling out, "you will take the first right upon entering the Coliseum. Proceed up to the second balcony and take your seats there. You will be allowed to meet up with your children after the orientation."

  At this announcement, Monson looked around at the parents, who were obviously annoyed, while most of the students looked disheartened at the thought of an assembly. The murmuring that had been rolling through the crowd subsided.

  Mr. Gatt, apparently recognizing the looks of incredulity, smiled even wider. "It's tradition; the dean likes to talk to the students alone. He feels that this is a good time to begin the separation process."

  "’Separation process?’" Casey said, raising an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

  Both Artorius and Monson shook their heads, and then all three of the boys looked at Molly. She half-heartedly smiled.

  "Speaking of separation," Monson said, as something just then occurred to him, "where are your parents?"

  This question received two very different reactions.

  "My mom had to jet," Artorius said, unconcerned. "She wanted to be here, but she's a designer and has a show in Paris the day after tomorrow."

  "My guardians couldn't make it today," Casey said, though he sounded a bit bitter. "Work, you know."