The House of Grey- Volume 1 (16 page)

“You must be new, and judging by your appearance, a 'shipper' to boot,” Derek stated conclusively. "I wish they’d teach you scholarship children a thing or two before they allowed you in.  Being the upstanding individual that I am, I’ll educate you on the Roman custom for greetings. When someone of greater status honors you by speaking first in greeting or interrogation, it is customary to answer with your name and occupation, thus showing the proper respect to your superior.”

“Really,” said Monson. “So you’re suggesting that you have greater status then I.”

Monson spoke not to the boy but to Casey. “Did you get the memo on that? Because I don’t remember voting.”

Casey shrugged. “It was probably rigged anyway. “

Monson knew he was being vicious. He simply did not care at this point. 

“Apparently you don’t know who I am, because if you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But even if you’re uneducated in social pleasantries I’d have thought who I am was obvious.” Derek’s rapturous smile returned to his face, and he squeezed the two foreign blondes on his arms. The girls squealed. “I’d get caught up on the customs of your school, freshman.  You know what they say: 'When in Rome....’”

“Hmmm,” Monson looked thoughtfully at Derek. “You know that's funny. I've never heard of that custom. What period is it from?”

Derek's smiled faded a bit and his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, don’t tell me, you aren’t just spouting something you heard? Please don’t say you don’t even know where the custom came from or why they had it?”

“It was from the early part of the Roman Republic,” retorted Derek spitefully. “I would have —”

“A.D or B.C.?” interrupted Monson.

“A.D.” Derek’s smirk was becoming outrageous.

“Now you’re just guessing,” said Monson, laughing. “If you don’t know, why not just say so?”

“Why you little—”

“For your information, the Roman Republic only existed until the mid-part of the second century B.C., when Julius Caesar overthrew it. From that point on, it was an empire, which existed in the West in Rome until the fifth century, and in the East in Constantinople until the fourteenth century. Oh, and there never was a customary practice of greeting in the Roman caste system. Most of the time the Senators and other important people didn’t even acknowledge the commoners, let alone actually speak to them. What you’re spouting is probably some jumped-up school tradition created to make the upperclassmen happy or to help other
special
individuals like yourself feel important. And while we’re on the subject, we are not
in
Rome, so I hope you’ll forgive me for not doing what the Romans do. Seeing as you don’t really know anyway.” 

A thick silence settled on the crowd of students.   Derek looked as if he had been smacked, while Mauller and his group of friends gazed on in shock. Monson wondered if he had gone too far and would now have to fight his way out. He considered the prospect of having the crap beat out of him the first day of school as he looked at the arrogant jerk in front of him. Totally worth it. Might as well finish it properly.

“My name is Monson Grey. Nice to meet you,” Monson gave a little bow. “Now, if you will excuse me? I think my friends and I are probably already late.”

Monson started to move pass Derek, but Derek slammed a hand in front of him, blocking his path.

“Grey, you say? As in the—”

“New
Horum Vir
,” said Monson, finishing Derek's sentence. “That's right.”

Derek sneered as he eyed Monson. “These past months haven’t been good to you. I remember you being prettier.”

Monson felt a flush of anger. “Sorry to disappoint, but you shouldn’t worry, Derek, was it?  Right now, you’re the prettiest girl at the ball.”

Derek’s sneer took a turn for the deadly. “I think you and I should have another chat somewhere a bit more private.”

And there it was. It was time to throw down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” inquired a vaguely familiar voice.

Everyone including Derek, who flushed bright red, apparently recognizing the voice, turned to the newcomer. A group of familiar upperclassman girls pushed their way through. They looked scandalized — like the very thought of such bullying was unspeakable. Monson, thankful for the distraction, was about to make his exit when someone spoke to him.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t happy to see me?”

A soft hand caught his. The touch was so inviting, he instinctively turned. He saw a field of strawberry blonde hair and emerald green eyes watching him earnestly.

Taris Green.

“So, we meet again,” she said with a gentle smile. “You seem to have a knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t know.” Monson returned her smile. “I was just about to make my escape. Care to join me?”

She laughed, and it sounded more genuine than her laughter the previous day. She wiped at a corner of her eye. “I think this time
you
are hitting on
me
, Mr. Grey.”

“Yes, how improper of me.” Monson bowed. “I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Derek sarcastically. “But do you know each other?”

“Of course,” said Taris, keeping her eyes firmly on Monson, a fact that was not wasted on Derek. “Mr. Grey and I go way back.”

“Oh yeah,” agreed Monson, trying not to laugh. “
Way
back.”

Derek continued to eye them suspiciously. Before he could say anything else, Taris opened her bag.

“I have something for you.” She took a small box out of her bag and handed it to Monson. “It's part of your award. I don’t know if you have one already, but the school provides this one so they can always get ahold of you.”

Monson opened the box, a bit embarrassed by everyone watching.

“A cell phone? Why would I need one of those?”

“I’m just the Student Senate’s messenger,” said Taris with a shrug. “I just do what I’m told.”

“You just do as you’re told? I find that hard to believe.”

She stuck her tongue out at him a playful way.

Monson absentmindedly pulled out the phone and turned it on. It was very nice as far as cell phones go, thin, black, and slick. The phone even greeted him by name when he turned it on. “Hey, I already have someone's number in here,” said Monson, slightly confused. “I thought this was a new phone. Why would it have a number in it?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” said Taris, as she took a step closer to him. Behind her Monson watched Derek’s fists ball up in anger. “I put my number in your phone. You know, in case you have any questions.”

The reaction to this was oddly profound.  The twin boys against the wall started whispering to each other with hurried voices in a language no one else understood. Mauller whistled and glared spitefully at Derek. Derek’s face flushed with anger. The rest of the girls just gaped at Taris, dumbfounded.

Monson surveyed the group’s reactions. He suddenly had the impression that everyone in the room wanted to hurt him. It was not a pleasant experience.

“Thanks for this,” said Monson, raising the phone. He then clicked a button and listened as Taris' phone rang. She grabbed and held it up so only Monson could see the name. “My Hero,” it read. He looked at her inquiringly, to which she just gave an enigmatic smile and a wink.

He caught the name she was under in his phone. “My
Princess
?”

Taris’ smile took a turn for the wicked. “Only very special people get to call me that. That number is up to two now. Consider yourself lucky. I’m out like a daddy light. Bye-bye, Mr. Grey.”

Taris turned and walked away without another word, but not without looking back. Derek’s expression was murderous. Monson decided they should leave, and he, Artorius, and Casey walked in silence until they were sure they were out of earshot. Only then did the conversation finally start up again.

“I think we just found the main antagonist,” said Casey, looking behind him. “Thinks a lot of himself, that one.”

“And perhaps an initial love interest, too?” Artorius rubbed at his chin. “Grey, you lucky bastard.”

“What in the world are you two talking about?” exclaimed Monson, totally confused. “You act as if we’re in a movie or something.”

They both laughed at this, though Monson couldn’t see what was so funny. 

“Right on, Grey!” said Artorius, looking over at Casey. “Gooney Boy over there wants to be a filmmaker, novelist, and
mangaka
. He always talks like that. You’d better be careful, he’s probably already working on a screenplay of your life story.”

“I couldn’t do that,” said Casey with mock disappointment. He wore the same look of exaggerated contrition that he used when they were talking to Derek. Monson waited patiently for the punch line. When none came, he asked,

“OK, I’ll play along. Why can’t you write this story?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not really.”

Casey’s expression changed to a mix of pity and understanding.

“I can’t write this story because I’m the main character. That would just be tacky.”

“Wait...what?” asked Monson, running his hand through his hair. “How can you be the main character in the story of my life? Wouldn’t I be the main character?”

“Well, traditionally, yes,” said Casey in a very matter-of-fact voice. “But I demoted you because you’re so boring.”

That comment got Casey a smack on the arm and helped to dispel some of the lingering tension.

“So if I’m not the main character,” asked Monson. “What am I?”

“Comic relief,” said Casey, narrowing his eyes in a very comical way. “Don’t worry. I'll give you some good one-liners.”

Chapter 10 – The Voice

Upon arriving in their first class, the trio took seats at the back of the room. Casey and Artorius followed an already irritated Monson, who simply wanted to avoid bringing attention to himself. Because it was the first day, many of the students arrived early, waiting for the teacher to show up and start class. They talked in low voices unpacking computers and tablets while they waited — in vain, as it turned out, as the start of class came and went with no teacher.

     "Where the heck is she?" whispered Monson, although he didn’t know why, as there wasn’t anyone in the classroom who cared if he talked.

     "I don't know,” Casey whispered back "I heard that she's a little weird. Maybe she’s planning a sort of dramatic entry. You know music, lights, and such."

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Monson placed a binder on his desk. “You and your movie mania.”

“Of course,” replied Casey indignantly. “I maintain that life would be a great deal more interesting if people broke out in random song and dance, supported by a laugh track.”

"You’re mental. You know that, right?”

“Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” 

They lapsed into silence, though the room was far from quiet, the students getting more boisterous as class time continued to tick away.

"Where could she be?" asked a pale frumpy-looking boy in the front row.

"Maybe she's sick?"

     "Isn't there a fifteen-minute rule?"

     "This is BS!"

     "Well, she'd better get here soon," said Monson, "or she's going to have a mass walkout. Probably not the best thing to happen on the first day of class."

     "I'm sure she's coming,” said Artorius absentmindedly, flipping through his textbook. "My cousin told me Ms. Blake has a great love for the theatrics. Apparently last year she showed up in a gorilla suit."

     "Creepy," said Casey. “She must have been a drama major in college. Only people that can't cut it in the outside world pull crap like that. I mean really—" A snicker from his other side cut him off and made them all shift in their chairs.

     A girl with lank, shoulder length brown hair and thick, square glasses with ridiculously large rims sat next to them giggling as she looked down at the same textbook as Artorius. Her eyes were a bit on the glassy side.

"Whoa," said Casey in surprise. "Where’d you come from?"

The girl blasted him with a face full of pout. “I’ve been here since you sat down. Am I really that unworthy of notice?”

Her voice sounded overwhelmingly forlorn.

Casey cocked his head to the left, clearly indicating that was exactly what he thought. Monson punched him on the arm.

“Ouch! What was that for, Grey?’

“You know dang well what that was for.”

Casey held up his hands. “OK, OK, I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Monson turned towards the girl, searching for something to say. He saw the book she was reading.

“So, do you like to read?”

      The girl did not answer at once. She continued to look at her book, and then turned towards Monson. To everyone's surprise she asked, "Aren’t you the new
Horum Vir
?" Her voice had changed, however; it now sounded girlish and annoyingly high-pitched.  She also stared at his face with a mix of horror and wonder. This annoyed Monson. It annoyed him a great deal.