by Earl, Collin
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.” He stared at the work of art. He dared not touch it again. He leaned closer to see if he cracked the doll and was relieved that there did not seem to be any marks on it.
He replaced the wigs and pushed the box back under the desk. He made sure everything was in its place before he left the room and started walking down the hallway.
“Man, what a day,” he said aloud. “It’s not even lunch yet. I wonder what else is going to happen.”
Monson instantly wished he had not said that.
For some odd reason, there was fresh wax on the floor. Monson slipped and bit it hard. His feet flew out from under him in one of those comical fashions, his whole body almost parallel to the ground before slamming into it.
The air rushed from his lungs.
He lay there, his head and back throbbing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He sighed, or tried to, but was finding it hard because of his lack of breath. He closed his eyes. Was it Christmas break yet? Seriously, how much bad stuff can happen to one person? Shouldn’t there be some sort of rule about that?
“Monson, are you OK?”
Monson looked up, his eyes instantly wide.
Chapter 36 – Heels
The very first thing he saw were perfectly tanned legs and green high heels. Bright green-the kind of green that sparkled under stage lights and lit up on illuminated floor panels. Monson stared at the shoes. Those were so not the heels Ms. Blake was wearing.
His eyes stared at the sharp point of the heel, tracing it up the ankle and perfectly rounded calf muscle. That calf muscle bulged rhythmically as its owner shifted her weight. His mind started to wander, but he forced it back, pressing forward with his determined discovery. He continued up the calf to the lower thigh until his gaze fell upon the frayed flare of soft, creamy material. He gaped at the hem of a mini-skirt, realization and embarrassment smacking him like a sledgehammer. His lids snapped closed and his head turned to the side as his cheeks burst into color. He spoke to Taris Green with his eyes glued shut.
“Taris! How are you?”
Taris sounded highly amused as she answered. “I’m fab. And yourself?”
“My back and head hurt but besides that, I’m just peachy.”
“Yeah? Does your back and head hurting have anything to do with you being on the floor?”
Monson spoke with watering eyes. “Yeah, I slipped right before you got here.”
“Oh, that’s no fun.”
He laughed. “No, not at all.”
An awkward silence followed. Well, awkward for Monson. By the way Taris was holding back her giggles, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. The patter of steps told him that she was moving. Relief engulfed him. Good, she finally figured out why I'm squeezing my eyes shut, he thought.
He opened his eyes and started to speak, only to see the same pair of legs even closer than before, literally right next to his face. They were so close he could smell suntan oil and some sort of perfume. He dared not adjust, very much afraid of what he might see if he did, and instead found a small blemish in the floor to occupy his attention.
“Taris, what…what are you….”
She spoke from somewhere above him, moving her leg slightly as she did. The touch of smooth warm skin caressed his face.
“Monson, why do you seem so fidgety?” She sniffed as if she were about to start crying. “And I came all the way over here to see you. Didn’t you miss me?”
Curse you, you redheaded devil woman, he thought. She was totally teasing him, getting a thorough kick out of his embarrassment. “You know dang well why I’m fidgety. Could you move, please?”
“Monson! You weren’t looking up my skirt, were you?” She attempted to sound scandalized, pressing down the front of her skirt in a very Marilyn Monroe maneuver. “You do realize that would make you a pervert, right? Going around looking up girls’ skirts-aren’t you the bad boy!”
“That’s rich,” replied Monson. “You stand over me wearing a tiny sundress and somehow that turns me into a pervert. Yeah, that makes total sense.”
“Hello, it’s not a sundress.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
Taris giggled. “Are you sure you want me to move? You do realize who’s standing over you, right? You may not get another opportunity like this.”
Monson tried not to let his jaw drop. There was teasing, but what she was doing was just plain mean. Messing with the heart of an innocent boy-unforgivable! “I know exactly who you are and if you don’t move, I’m going to take a picture and sell it on eBay.”
“Oh you’re no fun.” She gave a little pouty whimper as she started to back away. He slowly got his feet as she did. “You know Monson, you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
He lifted his eyebrow. He was not sure that was a compliment.
Taris continued. “I mean, you have to be the only boy in existence who would tell a hot little piece like me to get off of him.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I must be losing my touch.”
Monson rolled his eyes and felt the red drain from his face as she backed away. “First of all, you weren’t on top of me-”
“Practically….”
He put his hand to his forehead feeling weary. This girl really tuckered him out. “Second, who seriously calls themselves a hot little piece? Haven’t you ever heard of women’s lib?”
“Isn’t that a show on the Cooking Network?”
Monson felt the tiredness take on a whole new meaning, but laughed all the same. Taris joined in, but it sounded a bit on the forced side, like she was not sure why she was laughing.
“It’s great to see you Taris,” Monson acknowledged. “But why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be performing at some sort of awards show?”
Taris nodded. “Yeah, but something bigger came up. So I had to back out.”
Back out? thought Monson. Are you allowed to do that?
Getting to his feet, Monson got a really good look at Taris’ dress. Not that he was completely oblivious to it before, but now he could see it in its entirety and was sure he was not going to be exposed to anything…inappropriate.
The chime of his phone signaled the arrival of a text message.
It was from Artorius. “Dude, get moving. This thing is about to start. Apparently we’re going to find out who Molly’s mystery visitor is. Move your butt.”
Monson stared at the message, his face going slack and his mind starting to race. Why was Artorius getting all worked up? It was like Casey had pointed out, with a student body like Coren’s, what visitor could possibly merit such attention? A gust of suspicion suddenly filled his mind as the dots started to connect. The group of MIBs, Molly’s visitor, Ms. Blake and the heavy-voiced man; it all had to do with the assembly. They were all related. The extra security was not because of what happened to Damion, it was for this unknown visitor, but that begged the question: Who was it?
“I know who’s coming.”
Monson glanced to his side to see Taris leaning in and looking at his phone. He almost took a step back. She was again a little too close. He righted himself before he spoke.
“You know who’s coming?”
She nodded her head, beaming. “Yep, I’ve known for some time. Apparently he’s a fan. That’s why I’m-”
“Dressed like that?”
She winked at him. “Bingo. I knew you were smart, even if you don’t take advantage of good opportunities.” She sighed again unexpectedly. “You know, you’re going to make a pop star feel bad about herself. At the very least you could stare at my cleavage while you talk to me.”
“Taris!”
She started to giggle again. “Anyway, our visitor is also a fan of Damion’s, though that’s secondhand information, just what I heard from my manager. Apparently he, Damion and I are doing dinner after my show.”
Monson interrupted again, confused as to what Taris was talking about. “You’re going to dinner with Damion? Whe
re are your reservations? The hospital cafeteria?”
Taris cocked her head, giving him a sideways glance.
His eyes went wide. “You don’t know?”
Her eyes went just as wide. “Know what?”
Despite her teasing manner, Monson could see the truth reflected in her eyes. She really did not know.
Monson answered, “Damion was attacked last week. He’s in the hospital. It’s been all over GossipGuyblog.com.”
Taris rolled her eyes. “No wonder I haven’t heard. I never get on that dumb site. Not after last year.”
“What happened last year?”
“Never mind.”
She touched her lips as an oddly concerned expression edged its way onto her face. “He’s in the hospital? Who attacked him? And why? What about the team? Don’t we have a huge game coming up? What are they-”
Monson touched her hand, which surprised both of them. “Taris, relax.”
He felt the tremble of hot skin and watched for a second time as Taris’ face altered. This expression was very different, anger perhaps, but equally enigmatic. It felt genuine, like maybe he was actually catching a glimpse of the inner Taris. This thought caused him to wonder: Was the Taris who sat next to him in Mr. Gatt’s class somehow fake? He raised his eyebrow without even realizing it. What an interesting thought.
Regardless, Taris’ concern really threw off Monson. He never knew she liked football so much.
Taris turned on her heel and tried to take off a little faster than her pointy shoes would allow. Monson reacted as she started to slip, grabbing her around the waist and wrapping her up in his arms.
“I’ve got you Taris.”
She went rigid but at the same time reacted instinctively as she grabbed onto his arm for dear life. She let out an embarrassed breath as he pulled her upright. He moved her slowly, carefully drawing her into him so she could regain her balance. She pressed right up against him.
Adrenaline heightened his cognizance, flooding his mind and being with an overload of sensory information. He felt the beat of Taris’ pounding heart echo and reverberate within her, and sensed her strained, quickened breath and steady increase in body temperature.
“Taris, this is so unlike you.”
Surprising words. Monson did not know where they came from. “What do you mean?”
“It’s unlike you to get so ruffled. You’re usually a rock-a rock that spends most of its time teasing me. I wonder why that is....” His voice trailed off.
Taris moved away from him slightly, pulling at her neck in what looked like a nervous gesture. She quickly adjusted her expression and body language, rapidly returning to the confident, bulletproof Taris Green everyone knew and loved.
Monson let her slide out of his arms and watched her adjust her top and skirt, which were now completely disheveled. She smoothed out everything, from her clothes to her attitude.
“I’m performing later.” She forced a smile. “Make sure you’re watching.”
Taris turned on her heel, doing her little booty-shake thing that Artorius was so fond of. Monson watch her leave, thinking that maybe she was not as bulletproof as he thought.
A nagging concern touched him as she rounded the corner. Monson spoke his question aloud knowing she couldn’t hear him. “Taris, if you’re about to perform, what were you doing here?”
***
After his conversation with Taris, Monson hightailed it to the Coliseum, which looked more like the crazy confusion of a Disney stars reunion concert than a school assembly. He navigated reporters, news vans, parents and other randoms, doing his best to remain unnoticed. As he entered the hall, a quick phone call to Artorius told him where they were sitting. The school provided a student section for just such an occasion, though Monson still did not know what this particular occasion was. He breeched the ground level of the Coliseum, taking a moment to peer towards the stage and lower levels. What he saw jarred him in the most curious of ways.
The massive auditorium was completely transformed. The platform had a large dome propped directly on top of it, like the kind at one of those outdoor amphitheaters, the ones that orchestras often used. In that same fashion, the dome sat high on the sunken floor of the Coliseum, giving off an eerie light from its concaves. The platform was also bigger than he remembered, easily double if not triple the size of the one used at orientation so many weeks ago. Large projection screens sat to the left, right and above the half-domed space, displaying computerized art of swirling colors and shapes. The atmosphere and set looked and felt completely different from orientation. This engineering masterpiece was astonishing on a variety of levels, so much so, Monson found it difficult to process. The massive crowd was not helping either. He simply marveled at the scene.
The air buzzed with electricity as Monson pushed against the current of excited people and found Casey and Artorius in one of the last rows. Thankfully, they were alone and a ways off from anyone else, though the way people were filing in, Monson was sure that would change.
“Is it just me,” asked Casey with a smirk, “or do we always seem to be waiting for you?”
Monson sat down on the opposite side of Artorius, who as always, was on his phone.
“Sorry about that. Maybe you should have come with me.”
He turned his attention to the growing crowd of students. “So, have they said anything about what’s going on?”
“Not yet,” answered Artorius without looking up from his phone. “But a bunch of the music students are getting ready to perform. I saw the guys from N’Sync 2 and Backstreet Reborn practicing moves earlier. And the Juilliard guy is apparently debuting today.”
He turned towards Casey. “What’s his name again? I always forget.”
“Boston Timberland,” replied Casey unconcerned. “He’s SUPER annoying. I can’t stand the dude.”
“You know him?” asked Monson conversationally.
Casey nodded. “Yeah. I met him last year at Taris Green’s concert at the Gorge. He was one of her back-up dancers then, but he’s one of those people with a little talent and a lot of connections. He’s not a bad dancer from what I saw, not that I would know, but singing is a different story. When he sings it sounds like he’s murdering a chicken. Should be entertaining at least.”
Monson scratched at his head, perplexed. “They wouldn’t have stopped classes for a week, added extra security, and then gathered us all together just for some jumped-up talent show. There’s something else going on here.”
“They’re probably announcing the court candidates for the Spring Solstice.”
Monson and Artorius leaned out from their seats to peer around Casey, who was struggling to see over his shoulder. Indigo sat down next to Casey and threw her feet up in a very unfeminine way. She was conspicuously alone, which made Monson smile. It was nice to know that Indigo was so comfortable with them.
Casey answered at once when he saw who it was. “No way, Little Harrison. It’s too early for candidates to be announced. It’s months away and besides, the School Senate hasn’t even brought the issue up.”
Indigo started to answer but almost immediately stopped herself. She glanced skyward, thinking. “You could be right, Casey. I guess I hadn’t thought of that.” She turned her gaze back towards him. “The sponsors then?”
Casey threw his arms up behind his head. “Now that’s possible. I wouldn’t be surprised if they announced the sponsors for the Spring Solstice and for the Repeaters Project.”
Monson listened intently. He was familiar with the Spring Solstice; it was some sort of dance. But what was the Repeaters Project?
Casey and Indigo watched Monson with mild interest as if they knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I got this one, guys.” Artorius spoke without looking up from his phone. “I know we’ve mentioned the dance before, but just to recap, the Spring Solstice is THE dance at Coren University. It’s kind of hard to explain if you’ve never seen it. Do you know what a ‘prom’ is,
Grey?”
Monson glared at an unflinching Artorius, who was just tapping away at the web browser on his phone’s screen.
“Vaguely.”
Artorius continued. “The Spring Solstice is like a normal high school prom, a high-class function for dignitaries, the Grammys, and a rock concert all wrapped up into one. It’s the high point of Coren’s social season.”
Monson took in this new piece of information and found that he was not surprised. Rich people were really good at two things: wasting resources and blowing things out of proportion. Considering such, it made sense that Coren would take something simple, like a dance, and turn it into some sort of spectacle. At least he would not have to-
Monson’s expression soured as a thought of alarming proportions hit him. The Horum Vir. The school would not force him to participate, would they?
“Relax Grey, not even you could get mixed up in this one,” said Indigo, reading his thoughts. “The students have to nominate you, then someone in the School Senate has to back you. Freshmen almost never get nominated, not even really popular ones.”
A pout so slight Monson had to wonder if she was even aware of it appeared on Indigo’s face. She slid a strand of hair behind an ear, a gesture quite similar to one of Cyann’s nervous tells.
Cyann popped to the front of his mind, her face dominating his mind’s eye like a hundred-car pile-up. He did his best to figuratively look away. She was the last person he wanted to think about. More for a severely needed distraction than a genuine desire for information. Monson asked, “What about the Repeaters Project? What’s that?”
Casey spoke up. “The Repeaters Project is a sort of rejuvenation project for the valley and older buildings on campus. The school wasn’t always the pinnacle of rich, private education and the valley hasn’t always been for the super elite. This valley has a long history, most of which I don’t know, so I can’t give you any details. However, what I can say is that every year a new project is done on the campus. That’s where the Yard, Barracks, and even this building came from. Many of the richest people in the world have kids attending this school. So they’re always trying to outdo each other.”
