by Earl, Collin
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.
"Yeah," said Monson in surprise. He considered the girl for a moment, studying her slightly protuberant eyes. "You’re familiar to me; have we met before?"
"I don't think so,” said the girl with a coy little smile. "But I wouldn't mind getting to know you." She pushed her glasses father up the rim of her nose and gave him a slight wink.
Monson turned to Casey and Artorius, searching for some kind of guidance. They said nothing and just stared. When no help came, Monson returned his attention to the girl. "I’m flattered, but I don’t even know your name. Why don’t we start there?"
“Miranda,” said the girl with an approving smile.
“Monson,” he placed a hand on his chest. “This is Casey.” He slapped Casey on the back. “And the oaf on the end is Arthur.”
“Don’t call me Arthur!” snapped Artorius.
“Pleased to meet you all.” She stared at each of them in turn, giving them the chills. It was like she was sizing them up for some sort of show. Something about this girl didn’t feel normal. She continued to scrutinize them before eventually settling on Monson.
“So how do you like Coren so far?”
“I can’t complain." And really, he couldn’t. “I have really nice living quarters. A really cool...” What was the word he used? "Man servant. And it seems like our teachers are going to be pretty cool.”
“Oh really?” Miranda looked doubtful.
“Well, I guess. I can’t really say for sure,” conceded Monson. “I've only met one.”
“And it doesn’t seem that we're going to be meeting anymore, not this hour at least,” interrupted Casey. “What a fruit cake. I could be working on my screenplay right now.” He said this to no one in particular.
“Come on now, Casey,” said Monson. “Let's not jump the gun. There could be any number of explanations for her being late.”
“Yeah, like she’s a nutbar dipped in crazy coating.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“That’s right, Casey,” declared Miranda. “You really shouldn’t judge without all the facts. Often your first impression isn’t the correct one.” She paused and looked off in the distance. Her eyes whipped back to Casey, "Then again, sometimes it is.”
“What do you mean?” asked Casey, looking at the girl with an increasingly cynical eye. “What kind of a teacher lets their students sit alone for twenty minutes on the first day of classes?”
The girl gave him a sly little grin but did not answer. It was in that moment that Monson had to wonder if…no, it couldn’t be.
“I don’t know,” Miranda said, turning her attention back to her book, “One trying to prove a point.”
“What could that point,” he gestured to the waiting students “possibly be?”
“I think you should probably figure that out for yourself. Cassius.”
Wait a minute thought Monson. Cassius.
Casey made to answer but was interrupted by Monson. “I don’t think you want to say anything else, Cassius.”
“Why are you calling me—”
"Very good, Mr. Grey." Miranda’s tone was again different. It sounded cool and rich, but with traces of the young girlish undertone from moments ago. “You have been very helpful in proving my point. I was told you were a sharp one. When did you figure it out?”
Monson looked at her keenly. “I think I knew from the beginning.” He hadn’t really, but he thought he might as well own it. One good thing was, he did know where he recognized her from: orientation.
Artorius and Casey gaped in absolute bewilderment. Monson just laughed.
"Oh, boys. You are indeed missing something. But I’m sure it will be made clear momentarily.” Miranda pulled off her glasses, which she apparently did not need. She peered at them with deep smoldering eyes that were at odds with her lank hair. How had he not noticed such eyes?
"So, now what happens?" asked Monson.
"I'll show you." The girl stood up. She remained next to her seat as she righted herself, smoothing out her top and straightening her skirt. She walked towards the front of the classroom. Other people in the classroom started to notice. The idle chatter died down as people watched, curious as to what this girl would do.
Miranda stood in front of the class, a calm, grounded expression on her face. It was vastly different than her previous flighty demeanor. Evidently, her acting was better than Casey originally thought. She smiled at the different students who seemed to finally comprehend what was happening. She turned and wrote on the blackboard.
“My name is Miranda Blake.” She wrote her name on the blackboard at the same time she spoke. “You may call me Miranda. Any questions so far?”
No one in the room spoke.
“Excellent,” Miranda said, dipping back into her flighty voice. “I have a question that I want you to all ponder before we call roll and review the syllabus.”
Monson chanced a glance at the rest of his classmates, who looked mildly interested. He noticed Artorius’ eyes suddenly grow very large. Slowly, Monson turned back to their professor.
Professor Blake had removed her hair which just happened to be a wig. Long, blonde curly hair, not unlike Kylie’s, was bound in a net-like piece of cloth. She let the confined curls fall, and with this simple action, Miranda Blake captured her the attention of her class.
***
The rest of that first day — the classes, people and interactions — were disjointed and distinctly new. Given his memory loss, this fact was probably a safe assumption. However, there was nothing familiar about this traditional school setting. It was definitely something new for him, even if he couldn’t remember for sure.
His lack of memories notwithstanding, Monson felt his next two classes were relatively...well, normal, at least compared with his first class. His Applied Mathematics class, taught by a sickly looking but very nice woman named Sally Masters, felt like a necessary evil. The class was hard, very hard in fact. Sally herself looked like she was falling apart at the seams. Monson was almost positive that she was at least partially blind. Despite her appearance, however, Professor Masters was vigorous. Vigorous to the point where she made students do push-ups if they answered a question incorrectly. (Monson end up doing a lot of push-ups that day.) She also gave them a boatload of homework.
Next was Science, which took the freshman students to the far side of the campus. A massive building that doubled as the county’s hospital housed one of the most advanced health care facilities in the nation. In this facility, students received the rare privilege of learning from a range of leading experts in both the social and physical sciences. Monson learned that for their first few weeks, Professor Scott Lucas, a Bioengineer from the University of Washington, would handle their Biology class, while Dr. Hen
ry Cast, a Ph.D. and professor at Bowling Green University, would lecture them on sociology. The two professors were very knowledgeable without a hint of personality. It was all very impressive. Yet, it was so—
“Boring!” yelled Casey, as they walked out of the building an hour and a half later. Monson scanned their surroundings, hoping they were far enough away that they would not be overheard.
“Ugh,” continued Casey. “If we have to sit through another one of those lectures I might have to take myself to the top of Mt. Rainier and jump off!”
“Well, that’s just silly,” said Monson amusedly.
“Don’t try and stop me, Grey,” said Casey dramatically. “I have no intention—”
“Casey.”
“Of allowing their artistic repression—”
“Casey!”
“To dampen my poetic spirit—”
“CASEY!”
Casey abruptly stopped talking. “What?”
"I don’t plan on stopping you.”
“What?”
“I said, I don’t plan on stopping you.”
Casey looked baffled at this.
“What do you mean, you don’t plan on stopping me?”
Monson sighed. “If you want to throw yourself from the top of Mt. Rainer, I don’t plan on stopping you. I was just going to say that any of the buildings here would suffice for a venture of that type. You only need a couple of stories to fall from, especially if you go headfirst. Going all the way to Mt. Rainer would be a waste of gas; you should be more worried about global warming.”
They looked at each other, then without warning started to laugh. Others joined in, which surprised Monson. It seemed that already Casey was very popular. Actually, people who probably did not even hear their exchange started to laugh, including a girl with short, sassy brown hair and light brown eyes. She smiled at them as she passed, and made eye contact with Monson. Her smile was a bit on the wicked side.
“Who is that?” Artorius turned to Monson “Grey, do you know her?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“She’s really pretty.”
Monson started to reply, but stopped when he noticed a strange glint in Artorius’ eye.
