The House of Grey- Volume 3
Read The House of Grey- Volume 3 Online
Authors: Collin Earl
The House of Grey- Volume #
3
By Collin Earl
Copyright 2012, SilverStone Books
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Chapter 37 – Christopher Samuel Baroty
The House of Grey Volume 3 –
A Message from the Author
This volume contains one of the very first scenes I though of when I started the House of Grey Podcast. Its one of my favorites, lets see if you can guess what it is!!
Lets get to Volume 3 of the House of Grey.
Collin J. Earl
25
–
Victory
The locker room was alive with energy.
“See, Grey? I told you this would be great!”
Artorius, shirtless and covered in dirt and blood, was whooping like a crazy person. Monson smiled at his friend as he started taking off his football gear. Artorius had played like a monster. When one of the starting defensive linemen went down in the second quarter, Arthur Paine got his chance. And boy
-
did he make the most of it. He was the only freshman to ever play a down of varsity ball in the entire history of Coren
-
that is, until the third quarter, when Monson entered the game. The homecoming game was supposed to be a pushover. Coren would win handily and the student body could then break for the rest of the weekend’s activities. But the 4A football commissioner of Washington had other plans. He personally reworked the schedule to force the Coren University Legionnaires to take an out-of-league game against the team they faced in the state championship the year before, information that Coach Able, Coach Hawk and Artorius had failed to mention to Monson until he was actually playing.
Chatting interrupted Monson’s thoughts. His name could clearly be heard despite the reverb.
“Grey! Grey! Grey! Grey!”
Artorius was chanting right along with them. “You’re famous Monson! Come on feed into it ever so slightly. Get that public image a pumping!”
Monson answered Artorius but he doubted that he could hear him. “I’m the
Horum Vir
of Coren University and the sole survivor of Baroty Bridge. I’m famous enough, trust me.”
“Hey everybody! Shut your pie holes!” Coach Able screamed over the din. “The news is on.”
Queen Seven, Seattle’s premium local channel, announced itself via the smooth, even voice of its anchorman, Ron Flowers.
“We’ve breaking news in high school sports. It’s just come in from Coren Valley that the Coren University Legionnaires won their homecoming game, beating the Pasco Bulldogs twenty-eight to twenty-seven. Starting quarterback Damien “the Diamond” Peterson threw for three hundred and fifty yards with three touchdowns, including the game winner. He also ran for another ninety yards and scored the team’s only rushing touchdown. A stellar performance, even by the Diamond’s standard.”
Mary Weathers, his fellow anchor, took up the thread. “
What was interesting about this particular win though, Ron, is the young receiver who caught the winning touchdown. Would you believe it was none other than the Coren University Horum Vir, Monson Grey…”
Monson stopped listening, or more accurately, could no longer hear over the din of his teammates.
Monson did catch the winning touchdown. The ball was never supposed to go to him. It should never have been thrown. But on the second to last play of the game, Monson suddenly found himself with the ball in his hands up field and running like his life depended on it. He dodged between defenders, one after another missing tackles and falling behind, and pushed others out of his way. Monson ran smoothly, seemingly guided by some other power. The run came to a head as he maneuvered by the last man, a defense player called a safety. He was the one that Taris had mentioned
-
the one with the sprained ankle. Monson’s brain switched off as energy coursed through him. Thinking wasn’t important. He just needed to act, and act he did.
Monson followed Taris’ advice to the letter. He ran straight for the safety, watching for him to commit, and then cut right. The thoroughly startled defender tripped over his feet. Monson left the kid in his wake. He sprinted over the goal line and the crowd went wild. Monson’s skin prickled, his fingertips tingled, and his ears rang as he spiked the ball.
The moment had happened not even an hour ago but he was having problems remembering it. Monson finished dressing amid the yells and chatter of his teammates.
Monson thought back to the feeling. It was strange
-
all of it. Monson played like a super-star, in short bursts finding the strength to do what was necessary for his team. His team. That felt like a foreign concept. They weren’t
his
team. He didn’t really play football. Yet tonight he did, and based on what he had seen of himself in the highlight reel, for that brief span, Monson had done it well.
“
I’m telling you, Grey, you’ve got a future in football. We could be doing this sort of thing every day!” exclaimed Artorius as he and Monson exited the locker rooms. “If you worked on it you could be an amazing wide receiver. I’m just saying.”
Monson shrugged. “It doesn't interest me. Besides, Casey is the one who should be out there, I just got lucky on that one catch
-
if the defender had been healthy, it would been a completely different story.”
“Madison’s hurt?” Artorius paused mid-stride. “That wasn’t in any of the game reports. On Channel 7 they were saying how great he was. How did you know?”
“Taris,” answered Monson simply, “right before the game as we were entering the Battlegrounds. She said to run straight at the defender and cut to the left and he wouldn’t be able to touch me.”
Arthur gawked, baffled. “He was hurt this entire time? The information wasn’t in any of the official reports, we watched all sorts of film and he looked fine. Now you’re telling me that he was hurt bad enough that he missed a game-winning tackle on a simple cut?”
“Yep, pretty much.”
“No way. There had to have been something else going on. Someone spiked his punch or put rocks in his shoe. Something!”
“Maybe it was the Coren Booster Club
-
they seem diabolical enough to do something like that.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Well, it wasn’t that obvious
-
you’re mocking again.”
Monson paused before replying. “Yes, yes I am.”
“Grey, why aren’t you taking this more seriously?”
“Why are
you
taking this
so
seriously?”
“Why did Taris only tell you about Madison?”
Monson suddenly understood.
“Ahh, now I get it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re obsessed with women and should get help.”
Artorius scowled. “That’s not what I mean. Like, why would she tell you and no one else?”
“Maybe she was taking pity on me,” commented Monson. “She knows that I’m not particularly jockey, and being a cheerleader, perhaps it was her strategy to help the school and me save face."
Arthur scratched his head. “But what did she get out of it?”
“Nothing, from what I can see.”
“Taris and Monson, sitting in the tree,” sang Artorius.
Monson rolled his eyes. “Yes, you’re right, that’s it. And maybe the livestock of the United States will rise up and revolt against their owners."
Artorius shrugged. “I’ve read
Animal House
. That’s not totally implausible.”
Monson cocked the eyebrow. “Animal Farm, dude, the book is called Animal Farm.”
“Hey there, Mr. Hero-man. Nice run,” cooed a female voice.
The girl stopped just in front of Monson and Artorius as they exited the inner chambers of the Battleground; paparazzi weren’t allowed in this area of the building, which allowed the players to walk essentially unmolested to a variety of other lesser-known exits within the compound. The girl standing in front of them was wearing a ball cap pulled low on her face and an oversized Coren University sweatshirt, making it difficult to recognize her. Monson tilted his head in an attempt to get a better look at her face. With a perfectly manicured finger, the girl pushed up the brim of her cap to reveal the brilliant green eyes of Taris Green.
“Taris?” Monson’s eyebrow, already cocked, shot up even more. “What are you doing here?”
Taris smiled. “I came to congratulate you on your run. That was quite the move you made on Madison! Very impressive, Mr. Grey.”
“Yeah… thanks for the tip. What do I owe you for the service?”
Her face morphed wickedly as she winked, “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.”
“See you around, boys. Don’t have
too
much fun at the after-party.”
Artorius gaped at Monson. “Dude, she wants you so bad.”
“Shut up Arthur,” retorted Monson, rolling his eyes, “and don’t go saying that out loud. That’s how rumors get started.”
Monson and Artorius walked in silence into some of the alternative open meeting places of the Battleground. There were all sorts of people around, many more than should have been this long after the completion of the game. What were they all waiting for?
“Grey! Arthur!,” yelled a familiar voice from a distance. Casey sprinted towards his friends. “What’s the good word?”
Monson shook his head. “Really? Really? That was the best you could come up with?”
“What did you want me to say?”
Monson opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t think of a reply.
He was saved the trouble of commenting as Indigo and a group of her friends drew near. “Nice catch, Hero-man. Say, can I get you to sign my bra?”
Monson choked on his water. “Excuse me?”
Indigo touched Monson’s face with one long finger. “You know!I Isn’t that what all the superstars do for their adoring public?”
Casey was the one to answer, “If you’re the representative of Monson’s adoring fan base, Indigo, then I say that Monson should retire immediately. Oh, and so you know, that little joke might have been clever if there was
actually
something sign-able…but I don’t think there’s enough room on that training bra of yours.”
Arthur scowled while Monson tried to stifle a laugh, and the girls around Indigo hissed. Indigo glared angrily as she snapped, “:I will have you know that most boys think I have a tremendous figure
-
”
A touch on her shoulder made Indigo stop talking instantly. “I think,” said Cyann in a whisper, “that you are going to want to stop talking now.”
Casey and Artorius jumped, physically taking a step back as Cyann came out of the shadows.
“Holy crap!” Casey bellowed. “What are you, a freaking ninja? Stop appearing out of nowhere
-
you’re going to give a man a heart attack.”
The older Harrison, who incidentally was wearing a ball cap similar to the one Monson and Artorius saw Taris wearing just moments ago, squeezed her sister’s right side with a surprisingly firm pressure.
Indigo’s scowl deepened; Cyann didn’t seem to notice.
“Monson.” Cyann nodded in his direction. Monson, who had been watching the exchange with more than a little amusement, found Cyann’s iceblue eyes on him as she spoke to him softly.
Cyann did not look away, but studied him as if he were a rat in a trap. It was as if she was looking for something and unsure as to what she was actually seeing. It made Monson self-conscious.
The silence became uncomfortably long before Cyann finally spoke . “It was fun to watch you play. Nicely done, especially that last run.” Monson attempted a smile, but found her gaze rather stifling and so instead he managed a: “yeah, but I hope I won’t have to do it again.”