The House of Grey- Volume 2 (18 page)

“
OK, hold it right there,” said Monson before Casey could continue. “That’s what I don’t understand. Why would that make everyone go after her? Why her? Why now?”

“
Grey, even you should know that.  Anything the Diamond touches turns to gold…or diamonds in this case.” Casey laughed at his own stupid pun. “Cyann already had it going on even with no publicity, no agent. Dude, she didn’t even have a career. Combine that with the possibility of an absolute superstar of a boyfriend, and you’re just asking for attention. Think of it this way: Cyann is the latest fad. To be cool, you need to be her friend if you’re a girl or hook up with her if you’re a guy. Mind you, her popularity is a lot more localized—here in the school mostly, but she’s catching on elsewhere. She’s catching on very quickly.  It’s as simple as that.”

“
It doesn’t sound simple.” Monson’s head was spinning from this new information. “It doesn’t even seem logical; actually, it doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“
You’re over-thinking it,” said Casey, “but don’t worry, you’re new at this. You’ll get used to it.”

“
That’s comforting,” replied Monson, rolling his eyes. ”So what do I do? How do I get rid of the masses?”

“
Endure.” Casey’s voice was calming, as if he were trying to placate Monson. “I don’t think there’s anything else you
can
do.”  

“
I could just delete it; that would solve my problems.”

“
Why would you do that?”

“
Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like I’m ever going to use the number.”

“
Why wouldn’t you use it? What’s the point of having a number and not using it?” asked Casey incredulously.

It was Monson’s turn to laugh. “And say what exactly? ‘Hey Cyann, I know that you’ve gone to great lengths to keep this number hidden and that you didn’t give it to me, but I thought I’d start texting you so we can talk about the weather.’”

“
Right…,” said Casey. “I see your point.”

“
I thought you might.”

Casey nibbled on a fingernail. “Even so, I wouldn’t delete it if I were you. You never know, you may find a use for it yet. Maybe you’ll need to come to her rescue at some point.”

“
I doubt that.”

“
Hey Goofballs.”

Casey and Monson looked up at Artorius standing over them. He pointed to his left. “She came over to see if she could help.”

It was Cyann Harrison. What was she, a freaking ninja? Where did she come from? Monson hoped she had not heard them. Cyann studied them with her cool, unwavering blue eyes. She pointed at Monson with her
bokken
. “Well, Mr. Grey, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Monson stood and left his
bokken
on the ground. “I’m going to have to pass. You’re way out of my league.”

Cyann’s expression became puzzled. “It’s not like I’m going to hurt you.”

Monson thought back to the very memorable sparring match between Casey and Cyann. “Casey’s still-bruised back would indicate otherwise. Besides, class is almost—”

Cyann rushed him in an uncharacteristically bold move. Her
bokuto,
being shorter than Monson’s
bokken,
would have smacked Monson right on top of the head if Casey had not tossed Monson’s sword to him at the last moment. Monson blocked the overhand strike and pushed Cyann off him. She jumped back and assumed a defensive posture.

Monson held the pose.  “This isn’t like you.”

Cyann’s expression didn’t change. She simply took a step to the side and began circling Monson.

Monson was not sure what move he should make, so he did the first one he could think of: the Two Step. He lifted the
bokken
, mock blade up and parallel to the ground and charged, executing two sharp thrusts aimed at Cyann’s chest. She parried the thrusts and then blocked the four-point slashes aimed at her extremities. Cyann stepped into him and engaged, their bodies becoming a blur of swings, swipes, thrusts and parries.  Monson’s mind went blank as they broke contact from their fifth volley of sword attacks. Monson delivered another TwoStep, slightly modifying the attack to aim at different places on Cyann’s body.  To his surprise, Cyann countered, initiating a sharp thrust inside the maneuverable arc of Monson’s longer weapon. Monson’s body reacted instinctively to the attack. With the hilt of his weapon in a one-handed grip, he brought the base of the
bokken
down on the first few inches of Cyann’s
bokuto
, redirecting her thrusting momentum downward. The maneuver surprised her enough that when Monson countered with an arm-arching hilt bash aimed at her chest, she didn’t expect it. She dodged the attack, swaying, and Monson almost over-committed, opening himself to a debilitating counter. Luckily, Cyann was also off-balance and instead of attacking on shaky ground, she retreated and held her weapon at the ready.

 “
Nicely done.” Cyann was breathing heavily.

Monson was too strained to answer. Instead he circled her like a seasoned pro. His body shook as energy coursed through his fingers, but the calming effect of familiarity and the powerful pull of his weapon brought Monson into the moment. And in that moment, Monson knew how to beat her. He knew how to win.  

The bell rang, and the moment was lost.

It was then that Monson realized: They were being watched. Stunned faces belonging to the majority of the sixth-period gym classes stared at Monson Grey and Cyann Harrison like they were seeing ghosts.

Casey walked over to Monson and slapped him on the back.

“
Dude, there are easier ways to get attention.”

Chapter 24- Not Just a Pretty Face

“
Everyone is looking at you again.”

Monson glanced over his shoulder as he wiped sauce from his chin. “Just ignore them. You know the drill.”

Casey shot a group of classmates a murderously crazy sneer. The freshmen were far less aggressive than their upperclass counterparts—apparently they found Monson a bit disturbing, or perhaps it was because Casey threatened to beat the lot of them within an inch of their lives.

A couple of weeks had passed since Monson and Cyann’s little fencing match, when rumors started that Monson and Cyann were in the “feeling-each-other-out” stage, which is some sort of prelude to Monson’s and Cyann’s supposed exclusive boyfriend/girlfriend relationship.  Ignoring the idiocy of him and Cyann dating, Monson was not keen to find out what the feeling-out stage meant, but according to Casey, the process was a big deal. Honestly, Monson thought the act sounded uncomfortable.

Monson had hoped for a reprieve in the form of homecoming excitement to manifest itself among the student body, taking some unwanted attention off of him. His hopes were in vain, however, as homecoming games brought up conversations of homecoming courts, and homecoming courts made people think of homecoming royalty, which in turn made people think of beautiful girls and Cyann just happened to be—well—a beautiful girl.  A vicious cycle if there ever was one.    

“
Wait until the Spring Solstice,” said Casey when Monson shared his homecoming thoughts. “You think this is crazy? Homecoming at Coren is like a barnyard dance compared with the Solstice—I mean, there isn’t even any date drama.  Everyone goes stag and the dance is semi-casual, unlike the Solstice.”

Monson smiled. A great thing about Casey was he just assumed that Monson knew things that pretty much everyone else did, but in fact, Monson did not.  He decided not to mention that he had no idea what the Solstice was.

Casey took a swig from his bottled soda. “I know you’re freaking out about tonight, but you’re going to be fine.”

Monson harrumphed. He totally forgot about his part in the evening’s festivities. Well…not totally forgot. He was just trying really hard not to think about it.

Monson shivered. On top of everything he was really cold.  

Late October in Coren Valley had turned distinctly frigid, which was lame because as Monson had understood it, Coren was located in one of the only temperate rain forests in the world. Apparently being a rain forest didn’t stop the place from being, as Casey put it “freakin’ freezing.” The, and the week leading up to Coren’s homecoming was particularly bitter—cold and damp like only a temperate rainforest in fall could be. It provided another reason for Monson to dread his first-ever football game. He was anxious, but had been doing his best to avoid thinking about it for the better part of a month. Oh, how the time had flown.

  
The homecoming game between the Coren University Legionaries and the Pasco Bulldogs started at 7:00 P.M. In a few hours, Monson, after minimal time practicing with the team, would make his honorary entrance as
the
Horum Vir
and play against one of the best football teams in the state. Monson was not happy about the prospect. The attention from his classmates wasn’t helping either.

 
He sat with Casey and Artorius at dinner, which was served early because of the game. The three boys shoveled massive amounts of a variety of food into their mouths. Monson was enjoying some of his favorites, chicken wings and sweet potato fries, while Casey and Artorius devoured wheatgrass shots, bagels and an assortment of other foods that looked completely unappetizing.

“
Grey, I can’t believe you’re eating that crap.” Artorius stared enviously at Monson’s food. “You’ll throw up if you get hit with all that stuff in your system.”

Monson wiped sauce from his chin. “I’m just preparing for the eventuality. I don’t want to die tonight knowing I could have had wings today.”

Artorius started to answer but Casey stopped him. “Let it go, Arthur, the man has a point.”

Casey paused between bites of his bagel and shots of wheatgrass. “Hey, Grey, give me a wing.”

“
Sorry Case, no can do.”

“
Come on man, I—”

“
You know you shouldn’t be doing that crap before a big game,” Monson scolded.

Indigo Harrison, wearing her new freshman cheerleader captain uniform, trotted up to their table with a small contingency of freshman girls behind her. They watched Monson with curious eyes as they whispered behind cupped hands. Monson did his best to ignore them. Their expressions weren’t ones of particular concern for him, but of simple prurient interest in his connection to Cyann. The inquiring glances were not out of the ordinary these days, and were actually an improvement over people’s initial reaction to him. Not that Monson had blamed them for shying away; with a face like his, it was a given.

“
You look really good, Indigo,” blubbered Artorius. “The uniform looks amazing.”

Indigo winked at Artorius, shifting the attention of the group away from Monson, which was fortunate because they didn’t see who was waving at him from across the lunchroom. Taris Green stood with a throng of her own friends, possibly the varsity cheerleading squad from the looks of it. She was too far away to speak to, but Monson could guess what the redhead was thinking, especially given that the devilish grin of hers.  

FROM: My Princess

well hero? what do u think?

4:00 pm

Monson studied Taris. To say she looked amazing was an understatement. The cheerleading squad must have gotten new uniforms, as the formfitting, midriff-baring excuse for clothing was a complete surprise to Monson. Not a bad surprise, though; not a bad surprise at all.

To: My Princess

u know u look amazing…

dont make me say it.

4:01 pm

FROM: My Princess

dont tease me…i know

u say that to all the girls! ;)

4:01 pm

To: My Princess

oh yeah because I have so

many girls busting

down my door…

u know they all want

a piece of the scarred leper…

i should book my

reality tv show now

and avoid the rush

4:02 pm

Monson shook his head. He still didn’t understand why this girl was talking to him. Was it some sort of charity case—“Adopt a scholar kid”? For only fifteen cents a day, take care of a basket case like Monson Grey.

Monson stopped himself; the subject just made his head hurt.

From: My Princess

says the boy who

has most of the

freshman hotties standing

around him…and all while

ur talking to me…

ur such a player!

4:03 pm

Monson contemplated this. What was a “player” exactly? He didn’t have time to form a conclusion or even start on one before—

From: My Princess

all joking aside…

come and see me before

 
the game…i’ve got

a present for you.

4:04 pm

Taris closed her phone, winked at Monson a second time and exited the cafeteria without a backwards glance. Monson sighed. He did not like the sound of that.  

*****

“
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the Pasco Bulldogs starting line!  Let’s give it up for the visiting team!”

The announcer’s voice sounded far away. Apparently long concrete passages turn yards into miles; at least, that’s what it felt like.  

Monson stood with Artorius and about forty other adrenaline-heavy, testosterone-infused high school boys in the home team’s tunnel/hallway below the football field. There was much in the way of booty slapping and helmet cracking as the Coren University Legionnaires fired themselves up for another display of competitive masculinity. The show of machismo was almost too much for Monson.

“
So we just stand here, right?” Monson bumped Artorius to make sure that he was listening.