The House of Grey- Volume 2 (11 page)

Artorius continued telling Indigo and her friends about their discovery of Damion’s instructor while Monson watched Cyann. There was a huffy silence to his left, but he looked on despite Taris’ passive-aggressive objections.  Unexpectedly, Cyann glanced his way and caught him staring at her. A confused expression, the same one he witnessed right before her match, stretched across her face. A loud voice rang out from his left.

“
Grey!”

Monson shifted towards the voice. Indigo and her friends were staring at him. He scanned their faces. Did he miss something?

“
Did you need something, Indigo?”

She laughed. “Grey, I asked you a question like ten minutes ago. Are you so entranced by my sister that you don’t even know when someone is talking to you?”

Monson sneered at the girl. “Don’t be dramatic; I was thinking about something else.”

“
I bet you were.”

Giggling filled the air around the table.

Monson glared at Indigo.

“
Funny.”

“
I thought so.”

“
So
do
you need something, Indigo? Or do you just like to annoy me?”

She cocked her head as she gazed at him while playing with a strand of her light brown hair.

“
Yes.” Her tone sounded playful.

“
Yes?” Monson’s tone reflected his weariness with this game. “Yes, what?”

“
Yes, I need something and yes, I love to annoy you.”

“
I hate to interrupt,” cut in Taris, “but weren’t we talking about Damion?”  

Artorius spoke. “Well, there’s not much more to tell.” The big guy was not doing well with Taris being there. He was struggling to look directly at her. “It was amazing. I think we should leave it at that.”

Taris stared, her lush green eyes boring into him. “I don’t understand.” Her voice seemed tight, almost cold. “What is so amazing?”

Everyone’s gaze settled on her, including that of Artorius, who met her eyes for the first time since she sat down. Taris seemed to notice that her words were not coming off as exactly sweet; Monson could see it in her face. As if concluding that she needed to correct them, she spoke again, this time with a much kinder tone.

“
What I’m saying is, I’m having a hard time understanding what is so amazing about another guy trying to beat Harrison.”

She ran her hands through her hair. “People trying to take a whack at Cyann isn’t out of the ordinary, even if it
is
Damion.”

Artorius shook his head as if to say that she was missing the obvious. “It’s not that he was fighting Cyann. Everyone tries and fails at fighting Cyann…it’s almost like a rite of passage. Silly if you ask me. I mean, I’ve never known a girl to have so much hype—” He broke off, looking towards Indigo, his expression proclaiming that he had said too much and was well aware of his mistake. Working through his embarrassment, he continued.

“
Anyway, it’s not that Damion tried to fight Cyann. It’s how well he did.”

Taris, Indigo and their friends looked baffled by this. Indigo voiced their collective doubt.

“
Why is that so hard to believe? Everyone knows that Damion is amazing at pretty much everything he does. Why would this be any different?”

“
Fencing and other martial arts are vastly different from your average everyday sports. They aren’t something you can just pick up and become amazing at. You need talent, timing, balance, technique and most importantly, a master…a teacher.  Sure, you can have all the talent in the world, but if you don’t have anyone to guide you, it’s all for nothing.”

The girls’ faces reflected their continued confusion. Monson picked up the conversation.

“
Martial arts aren’t just kicks and punches, or swords and staffs. They constitute a way of life, a way of perceiving the world around you. Damion, or anyone else for that matter, can learn the strokes and practice them until his hands bleed. But unless a person is taught how to think like a warrior, training your mind with your body, they won’t be able to reach the level they’re aiming for.”

Monson’s gazed shifted towards Cyann again. “Cyann is a master, or really close to it. That wooden sword of hers echoes her heart’s strength and conviction. To be able to match her level, even for the briefest of moments, says that in some way, Damion’s heart and conviction are like Cyann’s.”  

Monson stopped talking. Not that it mattered; he was not all that aware of what he was saying anyway.

Artorius took over as Monson’s words started to fade out. His voice sounded unsure, as if he was still working through what had happened.

“
In short, what Grey is trying to say is that Damion must have put in an enormous amount of work researching a style and creating a game plan to counter Cyann’s strengths. He had to have found a teacher to help him, as no one learns that fast without one. And finally, he must have put in countless hours of practice to be able to keep pace with her as long as he did.
That’s
why it’s so amazing.”

A shocked silence followed as the words found their mark. Taris’ eyes went wide. She looked ruffled. Something that Monson, until now, considered impossible. Her friends whispered behind hands as a shared sense of awe settled over the table. They each thought about Damion doing all that just for a date with Cyann. Now
that
was persistence.

“
Mr. Grey...hey, Monson, I mean….”

The unfamiliar voice startled Monson.  He turned, looking down the length of the table. Ignace Ikeco was peering at him intently though her stare felt passive, glazed, almost numb. She spoke again, the rest of the group now staring at her.

“
Can I ask you a question?” Her gaze did not falter and again her tone felt hollow.

Monson did not answer, but put out a hand as if to prompt her to continue. She nodded, acknowledging his gesture.

“
I was just wondering….” Her voice was quiet but with a hint of eagerness. “How do you know so much about…well,” she struggled to find the word, “everything? Are you a martial artist? How about your knowledge of history? Nobody normal knows that much about history. My father and I were there when you won your scholarship. How did you win a competition that is well-known to be rigged?”

His jaw dropped. Talk about loaded questions! He did not even know where to begin. He did not know where the words and explanations had come from, he just
knew
these things. The words just came to him like a programmed computer, but he couldn’t say that, not to all these people.  And what did she mean, “rigged”? The
Horum Vir
competition was rigged? Then how did he win? How did he make it into this bloody school?  He did not know the answer to these questions any better than she did. What was he supposed to say?

He remained silent for a long minute. The table was quiet—too quiet. It felt as if the rest of the cafeteria noise was hushed, like an invisible sound barrier surrounded their table.

“
I can’t answer your question Ignace, even if I wanted to.” He stopped trying to find the proper words. To his relief, he was saved the effort.

“
Hello? What’s with all the serious talk?” Indigo butted into the conversation. “Why would you want to know about boring old Monson anyway? Especially when you could talk about someone like me!”

Laughter broke out among the girls. Monson joined in even though he didn’t think it was that funny. Relief streamed through him. He looked toward Indigo. Their eyes met.  He was starting to realize why Artorius found Indigo so attractive.

But Monson was not out of the woods yet. Ignace seemed to be trying to say something. As she tried to speak over the noise, Monson noticed something.

 
Casey.

 
Up until now, Monson had hardly registered the absence of Casey’s laughter. Monson turned to where he was sitting. Casey was not paying attention, but poring over a notebook, writing madly.

“
Casey. What are you doing?”

Casey put up a single finger in Monson’s direction and did not say a word. He finished his scribbling with a flourish of his pen, and then finally looked up.

“
It’s finished!”

 
Casey gently closed his yellow three-ring notebook, clearly relishing in what he assumed to be the undivided attention of all around him. Monson looked at the rather unremarkable notebook.  There was nothing on it that distinguished it from any other notebook a student might be carrying. He turned his head towards Artorius as he spoke.

“
Finished? Finished what?”

Casey beamed around at the crowd at their table as they started to notice his and Monson’s conversation, yet still did not offer any explanation. Artorius shook his head, a serious expression on his face.

“
His story,” said Artorius to Monson.  He switched his attention to Casey. “You actually finished it?”

Casey’s smile grew more pronounced. “Yep, Grey was the inspiration I needed.”

 “
Hello?” A voice cut across their conversation. The three boys turned their attention to Indigo. She looked huffy and slightly red-faced.

“
Do you realize that you guys have now been ignoring some of the hottest girls in school for the better part of five minutes?”

Casey gasped in a way that was almost certainly not genuine. “I’m so sorry. I will make sure I pay better attention to Cyann.”

Indigo’s face flushed red. Monson jumped in before she could start.

“
What story, Casey?”

Casey repositioned his body towards Monson. Indigo continued to appear upset, though her friends looked like they were about to laugh.

“
This is my screenplay,” said Casey with a proud nod of his head.

“
Screenplay?” Monson peered more intently at the notebook in front of Casey. “I didn’t know you were writing a screenplay for real—what’s it about?”

Splat.

Monson winced as mud-like goo oozed down his face. He heard laughter and jeering.  He dragged his hand across his face to clear the viscous substance from his eyes. He smelled it.

“
Pudding,” he announced, looking around at the shocked crowd.

“
Who did that?” asked Artorius in a booming voice. The girls at the table recoiled as he stood up.

Not again,
thought Monson.
This is really starting to get old.
He glanced towards the middle of the room looking for one particular individual. He saw him laughing with a group of friends.

Monson’s eyes became slits as he felt his heart beat a little faster.

Derek
.
 

“
That guy is really starting to get on my nerves.” Even through the pudding, Monson looked irritated.

Casey stared at him. “Why don’t I just beat him down and be done with it?”

“
Yes, that would be wise.” Artorius cut in before Monson could say anything. “Why don’t you go and beat the snot out of the
dean’s
son? You would get kicked outta here so fast, it would make your head spin.”

Casey shrugged. “It might be worth it.”

Monson turned towards Taris, but spoke to the girls as a whole.

“
We’d better go unless you all want to get caught in the crossfire.”

Muttering broke out among the various girls. He could tell they were more anxious for him to leave than upset by the prospect of a food fight. He glanced at Taris. She seemed unsettled and even a little upset, but she nodded her head in acknowledgment as she met his gaze. Monson, Casey and Artorius stood up and headed towards the main doors of the cafeteria.

“
We’d better get out of here fast,” said Casey. He quickly glanced over his shoulder towards the middle of the room. “We don’t know when this is going to escalate.”

“
Yeah, let’s get a move on,” answered Monson, annoyed. The pudding was starting to feel sticky on his face. “I want to wash this off.”

But a commotion behind them drew their attention. They turned around to find many students laughing, including Taris and her friends.  

Pudding—
lots
of it—covered Derek! He stood up to wipe globs of the thick brown dessert from his head and chest, and he looked livid.  Monson thought he might seriously lose it. He and the others laughed.

“
Who threw that?” bellowed Derek, looking wildly around the room. No one answered. The tables of students were either laughing or trying not to laugh as they looked away from him.  Derek’s eyes found Monson’s.

Oh crap!
thought Monson.
Not good. He’s going to think it was me.
 

Surprisingly, Derek’s gaze slid right past Monson to where Cyann was sitting. He scowled at her with an expression that was half-puzzled, half-enraged. She, however, did not seem to notice what was going on. She just continued to read her book.  But there was something different about her.

Monson felt a hand take hold of his shoulder. It was Artorius.

“
Grey, is Cyann blushing?”

Monson scrutinized her, focusing intently on her cheeks.  

True enough, she was blushing.

Chapter 20- A Unique Talent

“
I’ll meet you guys outside.” Monson motioned down the hall. “I need to clean up.”

Casey and Artorius stopped short. They exchanged looks.

“
You sure you don’t want us to come with?” Casey asked.

Monson snorted as he started to backpedal. “Of course not. What are we, a group of chicks? I’ll see you out front.”

Monson headed towards the bathroom. Getting slathered with pudding was more than a little bit irksome. He was sticky and it was a waste of perfectly good chocolate pudding, something in and of itself totally criminal. But seeing Derek Dayton covered in the ooey-gooey goodness was worth every moment of his own sticky torture. He knew he was going to have to do something about Derek; he just needed to figure out what. Derek was an idiot, but also the Dean’s son. Truly a problematic situation if Monson ever knew one.