“GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR HERO.”
Monson awoke from a very nice dream just in time to see a blurred figure pull open the curtains. The light was not welcome. “And how do we fare this fine morning, Master Grey?”
“You mean besides my brush with death?”
Brian’s figure slowly became visible. “Yes, of course.”
Monson shrugged. “Besides the near-death experience, I’m just fine. Thanks for asking.”
“It concerns me that you can be so nonchalant about a giant statue almost crushing you to death.”
Monson thought back to the night before. Casey had been the one who sprang into action. The huge gargoyle crashed right where Monson had been standing, and it had been Casey who pulled him out of the way at the last moment. An at-the-buzzer save is a bit clichéd, but Monson would always take that over an unexpected loss. Mr. Gatt freaked out, of course, and immediately took Monson back to his room before summoning Coren’s entire on-call medical staff. It was well after 2 a.m. before Monson finally convinced Mr. Gatt and the doctors that he was fine. Surprisingly enough, Monson slept like a baby after that.
Monson shrugged at Brian’s comment. “Did you see Baroty’s Bridge? A giant falling statue is like a walk in the park.”
Brian pulled at the covers, apparently unconvinced. “I’ll take your word for it, but know that I have my eye on you. Now, how would you like to take your breakfast?”
Monson cocked an eyebrow. “You lost me there, Bri-guy. How do most people take their breakfast? With a fork or spoon, I suppose, depending on what you’re serving.”
Brian laughed. For some reason, he seemed to find Monson very funny; it annoyed Monson. “What I mean, Hero, is that unlike most people here, you have a choice. If you prefer, you can take your breakfast with your classmates, or I can have it prepared and brought up here where you can breakfast in peace.”
Monson meant to answer Brian’s inquiry but was saved the trouble by a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Monson said quickly before Brian could respond. He moved briskly out from behind the wet bar toward the great oak door, ignoring Brian’s objections. Monson gave Brian a look over his shoulder; Brian just smiled and shook his head.
“Whaaaaatz up!” Casey bellowed, strolling into the apartment even before Monson could finish opening the door. Artorius followed. “Aren’t you ready yet? We gots places to go, Hero. The clock waits for no one. Move it, already!”
“And morning to you, Casey.”
“What’s going on, Grey?” asked Artorius with a quick smile. “How you doing, you know, after yesterday—well, you know.”
“I’ll live, I think,” Monson winked. “It’s not my first rodeo in the near-death experience category.”
Artorius smiled but looked unsure.
“Well, boys,” Brian interrupted. “It would be prudent for you all to be off for breakfast. You do not want to be late for your first lessons. Do any of you know the way to the GM?”
They glanced at one another and shook their heads vigorously. “Well then, let me acquire a school map and I will show you.”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Moments later, the boys found themselves in a sea of people. As Casey went into a full-out rant about football and something called the “power I,” Monson was left to observe his fellow students. This was his first time around the entire student body, and he found the experience distasteful. Monson could already see cliques developing among the students, and for some reason, this bothered him. Maybe it was because he suspected he had never been part of a group or crowd and was jealous. He doubted anything would change; he couldn’t see himself inducted into the cool kids’ clique anytime soon.
Monson looked back over his shoulder at the place that would be his home for at least the next year. He felt distaste rise up again. Looming in the distance, the student dormitory, affectionately called “The Barracks” by the student body, had two wings for males and females and eight floors shared by grades nine through twelve. The Elite quarters, which housed private tutors and their pupils to make tutoring sessions more productive, were on another part of campus.
In The Barracks, male and female students lived in the same building separated by a variety of “safety” precautions, including cameras and elaborate door locks. There were certain times when the electronic measures were taken down and the students could explore each other’s living spaces, but these were closely supervised. All students shared a ridiculously large, two-story common room that was adjacent to and continued underneath the Atrium. Nicknamed “The Jive,” the room boasted pool tables, Ping-Pong tables, vending machines, a couple of large TVs, and assorted other means of entertainment. The washing machines and dryers were there as well, though most students opted for the Executive Service, or “Ex Service,” which provided a staff to handle things like laundry and cleaning. It was a neat place to live for most people.
“Excuse me.”
A sweet voice caused Monson to almost jump out of his skin. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he realized that Artorius and Casey were nowhere to be seen and that he was standing in the midst of a group of very pretty upperclassman girls. A particularly cute girl with curly strawberry-blonde hair stood in front of him, smiling. He studied her, unsure what to say, and in an attempt to smile barely managed a grimace. He heard murmuring behind him but ignored it, focusing on the girl.
Her appearance was abrupt and regal, yet demure somehow—quite the contradiction. Her curly hair obscured part of her face, adding a little mystery. She was altogether striking.
“I am so sorry,” Monson said, addressing the redhead. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
The girl did not answer right away, instead studying him curiously with a strange look. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“No… I don’t think so.” Monson took a few breaths to steady himself; the stares of the girl’s companions were getting to him. “And if you’re trying to pick me up, you don’t need to go any further. You had me at hello.”
The girl giggled. “But I didn’t say hello.”
Monson answered without thinking. “You would have had me at hello?”
He groaned inwardly. Did he really just say that?
“It appears that our new Hero has a sense of humor,” the girl mused. Her gaze lingered on Monson, slightly mischievous. Monson wasn’t sure what to do. People like her didn’t look people like him in the eyes. What was wrong with this girl?
Monson gazed at her. She smiled again—soft and inviting. There was something different about her, though he couldn’t place it.
“I’m Monson.” He extended his hand, trying to sound confident. “How did you know I’m the new Horum Vir?”
“Alas, that is a long story,” the redhead confessed. “It actually took me a second to recognize you. I’m sorry about that.”
Then, without warning, she curtsied.
Monson stood, baffled. The girls in the circle laughed again.
Monson bowed awkwardly. It seemed like the best idea at the time. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he said, peering at her with an analytical eye.
“You’re right.” Her smile widened. He raised an eyebrow. Laughing softly at his reaction, she winked and said, “Let’s just say you and I go way back.” She winked again.
Gasps and muttering rippled through the surrounding crowd. Monson raised his voice to be heard. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Taris.” Her voice was almost a whisper, yet he heard every syllable, every inflection. “Taris Green.”
“Yo, Monson,” bellowed a voice from a ways off.
Monson turned to see Casey and Artorius staring at him, their faces comically twisted in awe. Monson laughed and turned back to the redhead.
“I’d better go,” he said, gesturing toward his friends.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied. “Maybe I’ll see you around, pretty boy.”
“Maybe.” He smiled again. “But only if you’re lucky.”
Without another word, Monson turned and walked smoothly toward the still-gawking Casey and Artorius, thoughts popping in his head like crackling popcorn.
If you’re lucky? What’s up with that stupid comment? Who talks like that?
