The House of Grey- Volume 4

by Earl, Collin

  “Monson,” Brian walked to the side of the seating area. “This is a dance, not a conference on world peace or meeting of the Federal Reserve...”

  “The what?” Monson raised his signature eyebrow.

  “Never mind.” Brian chuckled affectionately. “This is not difficult. All you have to do is find a nice girl, ask her to the dance, and then go and enjoy. I know you like to dance. Molly told me so.”

  “She did what?!” Monson burned bright red. “Well, it’s true I like to watch some of those reality dance competitions, but that doesn’t mean I like to dance myself—”

  “Molly said that you danced all the time before your... incapacitation.”

  “She said what?”

  “Really?” Casey chimed in, suddenly interested. “What kind of dancing? Break dancing? Hip-hop?”

  “Ballet. Apparently Master Grey was quite the Nutcracker.” They watched as Brian’s calm smile became slightly malicious.

  “Brian!” said Monson sharply. “Now that’s just a downright lie!”

  Brian, Artorius and Casey all broke out laughing. Monson threw up his hands in defeat.

  ***

  Seeing as the Spring Solstice was the social event at Coren University, rumors concerning Monson’s nomination spread like a weaponized version of the black plague. Most of them involved Monson either blackmailing or manipulating his way onto the list. As such, by Monday night, the overall attitude towards Monson on the part of nearly everyone in the school, including the teachers, had surged from a passive, begrudging indifference to a full-boiled hostility. It was about the most idiotic thing ever.

  In defense of the other students, Monson thought they probably would treat any freshman that way. Still, the emotion seemed excessive; it was not until Casey explained that Monson fully understood the task set before him.

  The Spring Solstice wasn’t just some measly high school dance; it was far beyond that. It was like a college interview, scholarship application, artistic showcase, and backstage party all rolled into one. The honor of becoming royalty at the Spring Solstice was a huge deal. The endeavor was ripe with all kinds of career and educational opportunities, and many important people were involved. Many of the most successful newcomers in show business had made their connections through the “Meet and Greet” and the “Dinner of Eloquence.” A great many foreign figures and political leaders attended as well, giving the politically savvy an opportunity to network. Truthfully, just about every industry imaginable had a presence, from music to finance. Monson lamented his nomination upon hearing this. No wonder everyone was so pissed.

  Thoughts of the event occupied the minds of the students with an intensity that bordered on feverish; girls were looking at boys with newfound fire as they scouted their potential matchups. The boy nominees, who included Damion Peterson, Derek Dayton, Boston Timberland, and at least one other Monson did not know, all dealt with the familiar or newfound spotlight in different ways.

  Monson, who had already experienced an inordinate amount of attention, was receiving even more than his fair share as the student body vacillated between bitter discontentment and hopeful opportunism at his nomination. Monson was both a cursed, scarred, potentially psychotic freshman in high school (granted, no one knew he was psychotic – heck he didn’t even know if he was psychotic), and a candidate for one of the biggest honors in the uppity rich person world. People were torn about how they should treat him. The opportunistic side of the student body won out in the end, and he went from being ignored and looked down upon to being approached by random girls making awkward conversation about things like the weather. The situation wanted to make Monson put a bullet through his head. Artorius and Casey were not the least bit sympathetic.

  “When did I walk into the twilight zone?” Monson fell into step next to Artorius and Casey. The two had been waiting patiently while a group of sophomore girls who Monson had never seen, let alone talked to, accosted him.

  “It’s a big opportunity.” Casey spied over his shoulder at the girls who were waving enthusiastically. “The youngest Horum Vir in history is now nominated by the School Senate, a task that most had understood to be impossible. You’ll be hobnobbing with directors, producers, fashionistas—just to name a few. You’re going to get a lot of hype in the coming weeks leading up to the dance. Your date, whoever she ends up being, will get the same treatment.”

  “Well, people are shallow,” Monson said with a sneer. “You see that blonde who’s waving all sexy-like? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she was there when Derek and his goons tried to jump me right before winter break.”

  “Pity.” Casey tried not to laugh. “She’s cute.”

  “I don’t find this funny.” Monson glared at Casey. “And you so aren’t helping.”

  “OK, OK. You’re right. I haven’t been very helpful.” Casey put a thoughtful finger to his cheek. “Let me think. Arthur, who are you planning to ask?"

  Artorius, who was still watching the group of sophomore girls, turned back around. He shied away, an embarrassed look on his face. “Already asked someone.”

  “WHAT?” Casey spat, visibly shocked. “Who? When?”

  “Indigo,” said Artorius, his face a bright shade of red. “I asked her at lunch on Sunday. She told me ‘yes’ this morning, but on one condition.”

  “Condition?” Monson scratched at his chin. “What was it?”

  “That we had to go in the same group as Monson.”

  “What the heck is that?” Casey’s face was screwed up in a mix of thoughtfulness and irritation. “You know, I gotta say, she is a seriously weird chick.”

  “No disagreement here,” seconded Monson.

  The boys walked leisurely, reaching the Inner Gardens, the location of Monson’s meeting with Baroty so many months ago. These days, Monson and his friends tried to avoid the Gardens, as they had become a sort of informal meeting place for students. The Gardens were not as close as the grounds outside The Barracks, but seeing as most of that was ripped up in the service of Baroty’s vision for the campus, it was within reason that the students would find somewhere else to hang. Most of the “cool” kids could be found there if they were not studying or doing one of the various other activities that Coren had to offer. Monson was not a fan of the crowds but Casey liked the atmosphere, which Monson secretly thought had something to do with Kylie’s frequent presence there. He kept this observation to himself, as Casey was so sensitive about her.

  “What are you doing here, Grey?” A smoothly arrogant voice startled the three boys. Monson pivoted to his left to see none other than Derek Dayton sitting smugly on the grass surrounded by his usual goons and groupies.

  “Ah, Derek,” Monson replied coldly. “You’re looking—”

  “Delightful, Grey.” Derek touched his own face fondly. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of ripe, or maybe moldy,” retorted Monson, a thin smile playing about his lips.

  Derek’s eyes narrowed.

  “You haven’t answered my question, Grey.”

  “And what question was that?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Here?” sneered Monson, feeling too annoyed to avoid the confrontation. “I would think that was obvious. I’m standing here, Derek. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I forbade you from coming here.”

  “Yes, you did, didn’t you.” Monson offered a very friendly and very fake smile. “But there’s a problem with that. You’re under the assumption that I care about what you say. Oh, and FYI….”

  Monson leaned down towards Derek to whisper, “I don’t.”

  His comment hung in the air for a moment, the quiet following like a hangover.

  “Always the hero, aren’t you Grey?”

  “Not by choice, Derek.” Monson motioned to the others.

  “Your day is quickly coming, Grey. Just you wait.”

  “You really are an idiot, Derek. What does that even mean
? Are we going to meet at high noon? Draw pistols at the sound of the clock? You know, I don’t even care why you hate me so much.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” A quiet yet penetrating voice shot through them, causing all to glance towards the sound. “I think your hairline is receding, Derek. You may want to get that checked out.”

  Soft, slightly pink cheeks and lips visible below the brim of a dark baseball cap, which tightly constricted a mountain of shiny black hair. Cyann stepped forward, closely followed by her sister Indigo.

  “Ah…Cyann!” Derek spoke in his fruity anguished voice. “Why don’t we skip all the preliminaries? We all know what you think of my looks.”

  The girls sitting at Derek’s feet stared at Cyann with open disgust, their hatred of the eldest Harrison actually emanating like heat from asphalt. Cyann pushed the front of her hat up a bit, revealing her icy blue eyes.

  “It seems your fan club has something to say.” Cyann peered down at the girls. Derek glanced towards his groupies, who quickly averted their eyes. Cyann’s ability with a bokken was legendary. There was no way they would risk an open confrontation with her, not if they wanted to keep their faces intact.

  “Good girls,” cooed Cyann softly. “Come boys, let’s leave Derek to his harem.”

  Cyann promptly herded the others away from Derek.

  “It’s OK, Cyann,” yelled Derek after them. “I love to watch you go.”

  Cyann ignored him, leading the group to a grassy knoll where they sat under the sweeping branches of a massive weeping willow. The place was hardly serene, however. Not far away, a cluster of football players including Damion Peterson were tossing a football, making rude comments, and generally acting like stereotypical jocks.

  Monson sat down and inadvertently caught a glimpse of Taris Green across the makeshift field. She was beaming at one of her friends who was apparently in the middle of a riveting story judging by the expressions of her audience. Monson continued to watch as Taris giggled enthusiastically. His smile widened. Funny how certain people could add so much to a setting; Taris was truly one of those people. Her behavior was neither forced nor exaggerated—her smile was laid-back and confident—and she just emitted likeability.

  Monson focused on her eyes, which were not quite as attentive as Monson knew they could be. It was as if...as if she was looking right through her friend to something else. He sat for a moment more, trying to determine what exactly she was thinking, but as so often happened at times like these, those times when he wanted to look a little longer, Taris glanced in his direction. Her eyes met his.

  They watched each other for a moment; then, in true Taris fashion, she winked and blew him a kiss.

  “She just totally caught you,” Casey started to chuckle. “Man, that girl likes to tease you.”

  Artorius was the one who answered. “HA! Grey likes to be teased by that girl! Who are you kidding, Case? Besides, at least he’s got something going on.”

  “She’s not even that cute.” Indigo adjusted her expression, a gnarly look spreading over her face. She stared at Taris even as Taris rejoined the conversation with her friends. “She looks like a hedgehog with all that—”

  “Not even that cute!” Casey sputtered in outright indignation. “Are you insane? She’s one of the hottest girls in—”

  “As far as upperclassman girls go.” Monson noticed Artorius’ obvious emphasis on “upperclassman.” “But Kylie’s cuter than Taris.”

  Both Indigo and Casey narrowed their eyes at Artorius, the daggers manifesting themselves with spiteful clarity. Artorius did not notice, however. “And Cyann is cuter than both of them so I’m not sure what you two are arguing about.”

  Now there was an interesting development. After Artorius’ declaration, Monson tried in vain not to stare at Cyann. He settled his eyes upon her and watched as a slight rosy tinge colored her olive skin. An amazing phenomenon. Artorius was right. Cyann really was beautiful.

  “Anyway, Monson, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted.” Casey threw a nasty glance at Indigo. “I think I have a way to get these random chickadees to leave you alone.”

  Monson tore his eyes away from Cyann. “I’m all ears.”

  Casey nodded. “So check this, the only way to get these random girls to leave you alone is to set the bar so high that they won’t have the courage to approach you.”

  “What the heck does that mean?” responded Monson curiously.

  “It means you need to ask someone to this dance.”

  Monson glared at Casey as he replied sarcastically, “Thanks Case, that’s a lot of help. Whatever would I do without you?”

  “It’s the best way and you know it.”

  “That’s a terrible idea. Besides, there isn’t anyone that I want to ask.”

  “You mean there’s no one that you aren’t too much of a coward to ask,” challenged Casey.

  “That’s not it at all!” Monson shot back angrily. “I’m not afraid to ask a girl to a dance. It’s just that there’s really no one I want to take.”

  “So if I told you to ask someone, you’d do it? No fear of rejection, no hiding in the bathroom, you’d just walk right up to her and ask? You know—no big deal.” Casey was clearly skeptical.

  “Of course.” Monson folded his arms indignantly.

  “OK then.” Casey glanced around their little circle. “Why don’t I pick someone and you ask her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No, listen to my plan.” Casey cleared his throat. “You ask someone who is totally hot and super-popular, who will probably just say no. If she says yes, then sweet, you’re good to go, but you’ll be expecting her to say no. Once she does, you’ve set the bar so high that all these other girls will have to leave you alone, thinking that you’re ‘that type’ of guy. Furthermore, we can establish that you’re not full of crap.”

  Monson sat there, looking off into the distance, his eyes unfocused, and thought for a while. As stupid as it sounded, there was a rather perverse logic to Casey’s suggestion. However, the whole idea of actually asking someone with the intention of getting rejected seemed painful, not to mention overtly idiotic. So what should he do?

  A sharp poke to his midsection brought Monson back to reality.

  “Monson!” Artorius poked him again.

  “Ouch, Arthur, that hurts.” Monson scowled. “What is it?”

  Artorius pointed in the direction from which Monson had just turned. A group of girls he recognized from their year sat not far from their little group. All were looking his way, smiling and giggling behind their hands.

  Monson gave a resigned wave of the hand. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. OK. Let’s get this over with. Who do I ask?”

  “That’s a good question.” Casey grinned deviously. “Let me ask you a question before we start, Grey.”

  Monson cocked the eyebrow. “What’s that, Case?”

  “Are you sure there isn’t anyone who you want to ask?”

  “No, not really.”

  Casey shook his head and shrugged. “OK then. Now this girl has to be popular, and pretty, and not random. It probably wouldn’t have the impact you’re looking for if you just asked some chick you didn’t even know. No, it has to be someone you’re familiar with, or at least someone you’ve talked to. I wonder WHO would have that kind of sticking power.”

  In the midst of Casey’s mock consideration, Monson knew he had made a big mistake. “Taris Green.”

  I should have seen that one coming, thought Monson, even as his jaw jerked open. “No way Casey, you’re on crack. There is no way that I’m going…”

  “I knew you were chicken,” Casey crowed with a triumphant smile on his face.

  This was probably Casey’s plan from the beginning, but for what purpose, Monson did not know. He narrowed his eyes, letting all his discontent bore into Casey. He was stuck between a rock and a really hard place. He could either embarrass himself so thoroughly that he would have to hide for
the remainder of high school or he could live with Cassius Kay and the never-ending reminders of his “big talk” for the rest of his life. Monson decided that the latter was a much greater evil.

  “OK, I’ll ask her.”

  “Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” shouted Indigo.

  “What’s with you?” asked Casey, a knowing smile on his face. “Does that upset you, Indigo? But why on earth would—”

  “Shut up, Cassius,” she growled with forced calm. “Not that I care, but why should he go through the embarrassment of asking Taris when there are other girls who are way cuter and might even say yes?”

  “If I didn’t know any better, Indigo,” Casey cut across her. “I’d think you were jealous.”

  “Indigo does have a point,” Cyann remarked in a quiet voice. “I don’t really know Taris very well, but the odds of her saying yes are not all that good. Why not ask someone who would actually go with you?”

  “Cyann,” breathed Monson, though no one could hear him.

  “So you don’t want to ask Taris?” Casey threw his hands around his neck, sounding relaxed as he did. “Then who do you want to ask?”

  “Excuse me.” A familiar voice interrupted them, disconcerting the group much more than the situation really warranted. Damion Peterson stood before them spilling awkwardness from every pore.

  He looked at each one of them, saying their respective names in turn. “Monson, Casey, Artorius, Indigo, how are all of you?”

  “We’re...OK.” Casey sounded unsure. “And yourself?”

  “I’m fine.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed, exacerbated by the many people becoming aware of their conversation. The noise within the Gardens died out around them as the eyes of the student body watched quietly.

  “The reason I came over is…” Damion stumbled stupidly over his words. “I mean...what I wanted to say was...Cyann, can I have a word?”