The Monarch Room
©2018 Danielle James.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Prologue…
Roman
Mink brown eyes haunted me for the third night in a row. I woke up frustrated, shoving blankets and sheets to the side. I had to get those eyes out of my head.
I’d never known brown eyes to be so haunting . Brown wasn’t a haunting color. It was familiar and stable it was common and safe. Not these eyes.
These eyes pierced me and startled me from my sleep. I was sick of it, to be honest. I fell to my stool and flipped over a blank page on my sketchbook. It was anchored to an easel by a wooden clip. It was nearly the same color as those damn eyes I kept seeing.
I gripped a cool stick of charcoal between my fingers, noting the way my skin slid over it. I had it worn down to just the right point. Not too sharp, not too dull. I skimmed my palm over the stark white paper and began sketching those eyes. They were so deep; I could almost fall into them in my dream. They were the deepest pools of brown I’d ever seen. They shone like orbs full of possibility and potential.
My hand was tired but I didn’t stop until I’d captured those eyes. The thick lashes and hooded lids. The hope and clarity that shone on the outside but the fear that lurked beneath the surface.
I saw all that in a pair of random fucking eyes from my dream. I knew folklore said that there were no made-up faces. Every face you’ve ever encountered in a dream, you’ve seen in real life too. I couldn’t remember ever seeing these eyes in person though.
There were no other features attached to the eyes. No nose or lips. Not even a forehead to anchor them to. No brows to frame them. All I saw were mink brown eyes staring at me.
Calling me.
Begging for me.
They only had one objective…
To ruin my life.
**
Roman
I could hardly keep my eyes open at orientation for my new job since I was up until four in the morning trying to capture the haunting eyes that stalked me in my dreams. The strain of fatigue pulled at every tendon in my body making me feel like a block of lead. It didn’t help matters that the lights were dimmed to show a pointless video welcoming the new staff to Aspen Grove High.
I stifled a yawn and slid down in my chair a little, hoping nobody saw me shut my eyes for the last ten minutes of the video. I needed a power nap if I was going to put on a good front for my new bosses.
I jolted awake when I heard the slow claps of the other five employees that had been hired alongside me. The guy I was seated beside leaned over and smirked at me. “That video had you riveted, huh?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I chuckled. “Man, are they at least offering coffee?” I stood up and looked around briefly.
“Only after everything is over with,” he sighed.
“That’s not when I need it though.” We shared a short laugh. “Nice to meet you, I’m Roman Clermont.”
“What’s going on, Roman? I’m Matthew Wilmore. I’m the new calculus teacher.” Matthew seemed cool. At least he wasn’t giving me the judgmental glare like the others in the room.
The principal stood and clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. I made every effort to focus on him and listen to what was coming next. I needed to make a good impression because this was the best job I’d secured in a long time and the money I’d make from teaching at a private school would help me out of the fucked up situation I was wallowing in.
“Let’s take a short tour of our grounds and then you all can find your classrooms.” Principal Palmer was a short, stocky man with a voice that matched his build, bold and noticeable. “Here at Aspen Grove, we pride ourselves on organic learning. You’ll notice our motto is: go with the flow. We don’t treat our students like numbers or burdens. We nurture their minds and cultivate compassionate human beings to send out into the world.
When you go to find your rooms, you’ll notice we don’t utilize a number system like all other schools. Our rooms are named. Not numbered. You will have the opportunity to name your room as you see fit. Let it speak to you.”
I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. It sounded like a bunch of bullshit. The bottom line was quite clear to me: I was going to be teaching a bunch of privileged kids that didn’t want to be told what to do. Their parents’ money paid for them to coast through life and they didn’t expect to have to adhere to structure.
Well, they were all going to get a rude fucking awakening in my class. I wasn’t going to yield to wealthy parents, donations, or any of that bullshit. My students had better be prepared to pass my class on hard work and merit.
Screw going with the flow.
Work hard. Get results.
Once Principal Palmer was done with his boring speech, we were dispersed to find our rooms. I glanced down at the school map in my hand and found the Peacock Room. It was my room. The teacher before me named it.
I walked in and the smell of paint and paper hit me, making me relax. I looked around at the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and the large stretch of floor space and tried to imagine the walls covered with art from students learning to actually work and not coast.
I was going to change the students that walked through my doors, even if it meant I had to be an asshole. They would transform. That’s when it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I knew what I would name my room.
A knock on the door startled me, making me spin around. I looked to see Matthew checking my room out. “Aw man, you got all the windows. I guess they think calculus teachers don’t need natural light or something.”
“You didn’t get any windows? I refuse to believe in a school this huge, they stuck you in a broom closet,” I laughed.
“Nah, I have windows, they just don’t touch the floor like yours.” He stood by the window I envisioned sitting behind my soon-to-be desk and sighed. “Did your room speak to you like a babbling brook in nature? Have you picked out a name for your new baby?” He rolled his eyes and I laughed. I liked this guy. He got it.
“Actually, I have come up with a name. It’s not because the room spoke to me though. Fuck that…excuse my French.”
“Nah. Don’t excuse it. I’m glad to know someone else curses like a sailor. I thought I was going to be amongst a bunch of yacht owning, golf playing, dicks.” That was my life once upon a time but not anymore. I looked out of the window and sighed, letting my shoulders slump.
“That’s not me. Definitely not me,” I shook my head and pulled my thoughts away from the past. “Did you name your room yet?” I asked Matthew.
“I’m torn between the Galaxy Room and the Universal Room.”
“Galaxy Room sounds cooler,” I told him with a shrug.
“Then I’ll go with the Universal Room, just to piss you off,” he grinned. “After all, math is universal.”
“It is. I can see you’re going to be an asshole.” I rubbed my chin and Matthew slapped my back.
“Not a malicious one though. I’m more of a funny asshole. I’m guessing you’re more of a moody asshole since you’re an art teacher.”
“You make a lot of assumptions, Matthew. Anyo
ne ever tell you that?”
“Call me Matt.”
“You never answered my question,” I frowned.
“People tell me that all the time, Roman.” He strolled over to the door. “Hey, what did you decide to name your room?” He leaned his lanky frame against the door and looked at me for an answer.
“The Monarch Room,” I said, looking around.
“I get it. Transforming kids through art. See? Moody.” Matt laughed his way out of the room as I flipped him off. He was cool but he was also annoying. At least I had an ally though.
**
“Mr. Clermont, did you like your room?” Principal Palmer asked before I got ready to leave the building.
“I did. It’s a beautiful spot. How much longer before I get to come in and set up?”
“It should be ready for you in a couple of days. And Mr. Clermont, I’m going to tell you what I told the others…we pride ourselves on listening to the voices of the parents.
Aspen Grove has a lot of prestigious parents that are actively involved in their children’s education. When they make suggestions, we listen. Live by the creed that the parent is always right and you’ll have no problems here.” He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and I looked at it like any second I’d be contaminated with classist thoughts like him.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Principal Palmer. Thank you again for this opportunity.” I shook the man’s hand even though I didn’t want to, then I left for the day.
Like I thought, I was surrounded by puppets that performed for rich parents and laid down for entitled kids. Not me. When students left The Monarch Room they’d be transformed one way or another.
**
I sat up bolt right in bed, shaken awake by the feeling of being watched. I turned to my left then my right and when I saw nothing, my breathing slowed to a normal rate.
Nobody was watching me.
It was the mink brown eyes again. They were haunting me.
I tore away from my bed and crashed down to my stool, snatching away the previous night’s drawing. I preferred charcoal as my medium but right then the deep, hypnotizing brown of the eyes from my dream called to me.
I squeezed chestnut and hazelnut onto a pallet but it still didn’t match the vibrant brown of those eyes. I squeezed a drop of gold onto my mixture of browns and finally, I had the right shade. I went to work on my canvas and didn’t stop until I was staring into the same eyes that haunted me for the fourth night in a row.
I could only sleep once they were out of my head and on paper. It may have been four in the morning but some sleep was better than none.
**
Some things just weren’t healthy. Getting nine hours of sleep in forty-eight hours is one of them. It would have been poetic to say that I stayed up like a madman working furiously on lesson plans and classroom structure. It would have been poetic but it wouldn’t be true.
I only did those things because I couldn’t stand to see those brown eyes when I went to sleep. So in reality, it wasn’t poetic. I wasn’t an amazingly dedicated teacher or anything of the sort. I was hiding from haunting eyes.
I was elated to be in my classroom, decorating and setting up for the upcoming school year. Anything to avoid sleep. I started to feel like I wouldn’t sleep restfully until I saw those eyes in person once and for all. I needed to know what the face that went with them looked like. The only thing I knew for sure was the eyes belonged to a woman.
I moved around the open floor space in my classroom hanging monarch butterflies from the ceiling and attaching paintings to the wall. I paused and stared at the back of the classroom where sinks and a supply closet were located and wondered what that exposed brick would look like covered in monarch wings.
I saw the vision in my head and once I got something in my head, I couldn’t get it out unless I acted on it. Unless I pounced. I was like a lion in that sense. I fixed my sights on what I wanted and I stalked it until I got it.
One purposeful foot after the other carried me into Principal Palmer’s office. I knocked before sticking my head in and found him talking with a man who was wearing a suit that cost more than I made in a month.
“Ah, Mr. Clermont. What can I help you with?” Palmer smiled at me, showing perfectly white teeth that I’m sure he paid a shit ton for.
“I wanted to talk to you about the exposed brick wall in my room. Would it be okay if I had the students work with me to paint a mural of monarch wings on it?” I knew I was interrupting something important but I didn’t care.
I learned early that if you apologized and excused yourself once, you’d do it forever. I never apologized for my presence. I was there for a reason and it was just as important as whatever Palmer was talking about with the man in the expensive suit or he wouldn’t have let me in.
“I think that’s a lovely idea, Mr. Clermont. By the way, this is Dr. Okolo. He’s a neurosurgeon and he has a student attending Aspen Grove. He’s one of our faithfully dedicated parents. He actually stopped by to see the new teachers and leave a lovely donation, which we appreciate. Thank you, Dr. Okolo.” Palmer bowed his head like Okolo was a fucking king. I stood, indifferent. “Mr. Clermont is our new art teacher.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” I nodded.
“You’re a little young to be a teacher, aren’t you?” Dr. Okolo asked with a frown. A thick West African accent clung to his words.
“I’m old enough to have student loans,” I assured him. “Thank you, Mr. Palmer. I’ll work the mural into my lesson plans.” I saw myself out before Palmer asked me to entertain Dr. Okolo like a jester.
I found myself muttering obscenities on the way down the hall when I collided with a mess of sinfully deep brown skin and inky black curls. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” she stammered. She wasn’t paying attention because she had her nose in her goddamn phone.
I parted my lips to chastise her but I couldn’t find the words.
It was her .
The owner of the haunting brown eyes.
“Do you always bump into strangers in hallways?” I finally asked once I found my words.
“Yes. It’s my favorite pastime,” she deadpanned. Her nose crinkled just a bit in the center. Like she was hiding a sneaky smirk beneath the surface. I took her in with an artist’s eye and studied her features.
She was so petite. So short. Even with perfect posture, the top of her head only reached my lips. I let my eager eyes dance down her compact curves and drink in her cocoa skin. She seemed to be dusted with gold. Like the sun kissed her and only her.
Adding gold to my palette last night was perfect. It captured her eyes like a photograph. “You need to find a new pastime,” I told her.
“What is your name?” She tipped her button nose in the air like she’d had enough of me but her eyes told all her secrets. She was devouring me. I knew that look well. I wore a matching one.
“Roman,” I told her, taking a step closer. She smelled sweet like something from a bakery. Something I could eat…
“Roman, I’m Zuri.” She held out a single, tiny hand with bright blue polish coating manicured nails. I nearly crushed it with mine when we shook. “Your hands are dirty,” she frowned. She opened my palm to examine my hand and neither of us could deny the jolt of electricity that sparked when we touched.
“That’s not dirt. It’s charcoal.”
“Charcoal?” She didn’t say the word as if it were hard to understand. She said it like she was searching for other words to match it. Like she had an endless list of words in her head. “Dark and moody. Grays disguised as blacks. Powder sifting and seeping into cracks.” She rattled off the short poem then snapped her eyes to mine. They were as deep as I dreamt.
“So let me guess, you’re a poet?” I folded my arms and she watched me then glanced at her phone.
“I wouldn’t say that…but thank you. I like words. Certain words send me on a tangent and if I don’t get them out of my head they haunt me.” She sounded l
ike me. A lot like me. I was seconds away from asking her to go with me to have coffee after I finished my room.
I needed to sit across from her and delve into her brain. I needed an excuse to stare into her eyes. They were making it harder to breathe by the second.
“Ah, Mr. Clermont, right?” The guy from Palmer’s office strode over to me and offered a wide, toothy grin.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Okolo.” I cleared my throat and hoped the haze from standing in front of my muse would clear. I was still stuck on how beautiful she was though. It seemed like she was still stuck on me too because I felt the heat from her eyes while I spoke to Okolo.
“Doctor ,” he corrected with ice in his tone. “I see you’ve met my daughter, Zuri. I was speaking with Principal Palmer and it’s my understanding she’ll be in your art class this year. She only needs one elective credit. I trust this year won’t be a problem at all. Right Mr. Clermont?”
I was stunned silent for a moment.
The gorgeous, brilliant, pair of haunting brown eyes belonged to a student?
My student.
Shit.
“As long as Miss Zuri is ready to work, everything should be fine.” I had to mask my shock with a bright smile and professional tone. Zuri hid her mink brown eyes and glanced at her blue and white Converse. “Nice meeting you guys. I’ll see you on the first day.” I made my exit quickly.
What the fuck just happened?
How did that just happen?
I knew one thing for certain in the midst of all the questions rampaging through my brain. I had to push Zuri Okolo far out of my head. She was a student. That’s what she would remain.
**
Zuri
Roman Clermont wasn’t just charming with a hint of sarcasm. He wasn’t just a gorgeously tall man with a smile that could light a thousand candles. He was my new art teacher.
Last I checked the art teacher at Aspen Grove was some old, wrinkled white man that was happy to take my father’s money and pass me year after year. Like every other teacher there.
What the fuck happened to that guy?
The Monarch Room Page 1