by Collin Earl
“Grey, come on, I—”
Monson anticipated his objection. “Listen Casey, I understand that you have some things you aren’t ready to talk about. I know this. Artorius has things too, and I’m just as guilty. There are things that I haven’t even considered bringing up, let alone actually discussing. I have loads that I should tell you two, things you need to know, but I’m not ready. I assume it’s something similar with you. Putting all of that aside, what just happened is flat-out weird—surreal, amazing, magical and every other crazy adjective that I can think of. I already have enough mysterious and unexplainable things keeping me up at night. I don’t need another. I’m going to talk to Kylie. You don’t have to come.”
“That’s not it,” Casey retorted. “It’s not something I’m hiding from you. It’s something I don’t want to get into with her.”
“What do you mean? What don’t you want to get into with her?”
Their conversation ceased. Casey, Artorius and Monson all listened as a voice, more like a whisper, interrupted them.
“Yeah, that was a bad idea.” The whisper was weak and breathy. The boys ducked reflexively behind one of the hedges surrounding The Barracks.
“Why are we hiding?” whispered Monson.
“I dunno,” Casey shrugged, “I was just following you.”
Monson stood up slightly and peeked over the edge of the hedge.
On a grassy spot on the other side of the wall was Kylie.
Ms. Coremack was slumped on all fours breathing heavily, the contents of her book bag strewn all over. An almost hidden expression competed with her tight-lipped scowl, as if she was in pain but did not quite understand how to deal with it. She rolled onto her side and reached for her bag.
Artorius’ voice sounded quietly from behind Monson. “Who is it, Grey?”
“It’s Kylie,” Monson relayed in a whisper. “And she looks like she’s about to pass out.” He moved back. “Check it out.”
Casey and Artorius peered around the corner.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Artorius.
Monson did not know the answer, but he had an inkling that Casey might.
“Well, Casey?”
Casey looked at Monson.
“What’s wrong with her?”
Casey took a deep breath, attempting to keep the concern from dominating his features. “Typical.”
A retching sound cut them off. All three looked around the corner. Kylie was on her hands and knees now, convulsing like she was going to be sick.
“This is ridiculous,” said Monson finally, “I’m going to help her.”
“Wait, Grey! We don’t know what she’ll do.”
Monson, already halfway to Kylie, simply waved over his shoulder.
He slowed his pace as he neared her, trying not to startle her. Her head bobbled dangerously as if barely connected to her neck. She looked up from the ground as he approached.
“Are you OK, Kylie?” he asked in a low voice.
She shook her head as she looked at him. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. He grabbed her arm and helped her up, astonished by how light she was.
“Who’s there?” she breathed.
“Monson Grey.” He tried to steady her, but her legs buckled. Suddenly Artorius was at his side.
“Here, I got you,” Artorius said gently. He picked her up, cradling her in his arms like a child.
“Arthur…” she said. Her voice, while weak, sounded amused, like she was privy to some inside joke. “Then that means…that means….” Her eyes suddenly flashed with a wild expression, something close to fear and desperation. She searched frantically for something, wiggling uncontrollably in Artorius’ arms.
“No—my…where is it? Arthur, help—he can’t see it. Please, help me find it….”
“Kylie, calm down. It’s OK. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be all righ–.”
“No, Arthur, please…don’t let him find it, he can’t—please Arthur help me find it—”
“Did you mean this?” Casey’s voice silenced her. Kylie sat still in Artorius’ arms. Deathly still. She looked toward the direction of Casey’s voice, eyes still glazed and unfocused.
“No, Cassius, don’t….” she said in a pleading whisper.
Casey opened a small black leather planner he held in his hands. From the storm clouds brewing on his face, it was obvious he did not like what he saw.
“Casey, what’s wrong?” Monson took a step towards him. Casey’s face drained of color the minute he opened the planner. He stared at it in shock, horror and anger. Overwhelming anger.
“Casey?” Monson repeated, but Casey did not seem to be listening. He barely seemed coherent. His eyes shifted from the planner to Kylie.
“How?”
Kylie looked distinctly uncomfortable. Monson saw that she seemed to be experiencing the fear of a child whose mother or father catches her with her hand in the cookie jar. This situation, however, was worse than stealing a cookie—many times worse.
“It’s mine. You gave it to me. Isn’t natural that I have it?” Kylie’s answer felt like the truth, unlike most of her other actions Monson had witnessed thus far. Though as she spoke, Monson could see how much she was struggling to keep conscious. She needed to go to the medical wing.
“You ripped it up!” Casey’s voice was dripping with rage. “I watched you do it! Now…now you’re saying you’ve somehow had it all this time?”
Kylie attempted a sneer. “Well, I may have ripped up one copy, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t others.”
Casey almost yelled, “This is the original and you know it. Why the hell would you have it? You ripped it up and threw it away—and me along with it. Explain yourself, Kylie.”
“Cassius, calm down. I’m not sure what you’re thinking but you really don’t need to get so upset.”
Monson shifted to look at Kylie. Her tone it was…it was as if she was goading him.
“Enough of your bull!” yelled Casey. “Answer me!”
Casey cocked his arm back, balling his hand into a fist. His arm shot forward but then abruptly seemed to slow down, as if it was moving in slow motion.
There was a sound sort of like a whoosh. It echoed in that small clearing reverberating clearly through the air. The sound grew more pronounced as Casey’s balled fist connected with a small pine tree. The sapling exploded into fragments, sending shards of wood flying. The tree did not just bend in the opposite direction and crack; no, the force of the blow literally shattered the tree. In its place was a splintered stump about a foot and a half tall. Besides the stump, the only evidence of the tree’s existence was the thousands of tiny pine matchsticks and remnants of pine needles strewn across the grass. Casey looked sharply from his hand to the fractured stump.
Monson and Artorius stared at their friend.
“What just happened?” asked Artorius. “That—that’s impossible.”
Monson’s mind reeled as he tried to comprehend the strange sequence of events. He mouthed the words as if he knew it all the time.
“Flash fist,” whispered Monson. “He just threw a flash fist.”
Horror lit up Casey’s face. Apparently, the situation was just as shocking to him as it was to everyone else.
“You never did learn how to control your temper,” said Kylie, with a hint of a smile. “And now look what you’ve done. You used your special move on a defenseless tree. Al Gore is going to be pissed.”
Kylie’s voice sounded very weak. Monson watched her head bobble, finally lolling back and coming to rest on Artorius’ chest. She needed help now. Casey looked like he was trying to say something, but Artorius spoke up.
“That’s enough, Cassius.” Monson thought Artorius was trying to sound reassuring. He was not sure if he was succeeding. “I need to get Kylie to the infirmary.”
He turned and started to walk away. Casey yelled after him.
“Wait, Arthur,” Casey’s voice sounded desperate, “I’m not done talking
to her yet.”
Casey took a step towards Artorius, apparently intending to prevent him from leaving. To his surprise, Artorius stopped abruptly.
“Hey Casey.”
Despite his anger, Casey managed to look surprised.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t call me Arthur.” He gave Casey a huge, cheesy smile.
Monson laughed…of course, he laughed. Being the fool that he was, he always laughed at times when it was least appropriate. Obviously, Artorius was attempting to use humor to avoid confrontation, but Monson still felt guilty for laughing when Kylie was in such bad shape.
Casey’s lips parted. Monson half-expected him to start yelling obscenities. He did not. He said one word.
“Artorius.”
Arthur Paine’s self-proclaimed name sounded strange coming from Casey. On another day or in a different situation this might have been a sort of moral victory for the big guy, but the moment was lost as Artorius moved at top speed carrying Kylie to the medical wing.
“Wait Casey,” Monson quickly positioned himself in front of Casey before he could give chase.
“Grey, get out of my way,” answered Casey angrily. “This is between me and Kylie. You don’t have any right to interfere.”
“Funny you should mention that.” Monson’s voice held a cold note, but he did his best to sound calm. “You sound like that moron, Martin. Is that how you’re going to deal with this? You gonna give Kylie a good slap? You know, smack her around a bit until you get what you want?”
Casey’s arm coiled and struck. A clear boxer-style left cross sailed at Monson’s face. The punch’s form was sloppy. Monson saw it clear as day, and knew exactly what to do; he knew exactly how to block it. His instinct kicked in and he again felt his body start to move. His hand even began sweeping upward, cutting towards Casey’s incoming blow. Resisting the instinct, he halted his sweeping hand just as Casey’s fist connected with his jaw.
Monson dropped like a sack of potatoes. Casey’s anger lingered for a several seconds, but then was siphoned away in a burst of revelation. He ran off as reality penetrated his fog of emotion.
“Take as much time as you need.” Monson closed his eyes. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Chapter 21- Friends No Longer
Knock, knock.
Monson looked up from his computer at the clock on the wall.
Eight o’clock. Huh, thought Monson stretching his arms. I wonder who it is.
“Master Grey,” Brian’s voice came from the other room. “You have a visitor.”
“Send him in, Brian.”
Artorius walked into the room. He looked distraught, like he was laboring under some huge burden.
“Where have you been?” asked Monson the moment Artorius entered his study. “I haven’t seen you for a whole day. Uncool to leave me hanging like that.”
“I was in the medical wing for most of the evening and for part of this morning, then I tried to talk to Casey.” Artorius walked to the couch against the far wall. He plopped down and let out a breath. After a moment he looked a great deal calmer. “He wasn’t having it. All in all, not the best Saturday I’ve ever had.”
“How’s Kylie? Is she OK? What about Casey? Where has he been?”
“Kylie is doing better, but you should have seen her yesterday. She looked half-dead.”
“Half-dead?” Monson raised an eyebrow. “You’re dramatizing just a bit.”
Artorius’ eyes rose to meet Monson, his own expression turning very serious. “No, I’m not.”
Monson, slightly taken aback, lapsed into silence as a stream of thought came to mind.
Whatever Kylie had done, it had a huge effect on her stamina. Her mind control, or whatever it was, physically affected her. Doubt suddenly rose up from the back of his mind.
Mind control, he thought. That isn’t possible. The good guys don’t always win and life isn’t fair.
He caught the image of his scarred countenance in his sleeping flat screen.
Life is definitely not fair, said the voice in his head.
He stared at his own face for a moment more. His face stared back.
No…that was not right. His face reflected back. An image does not stare. But…but then why were his lips moving? He leaned closer to the black screen. He thought he saw something behind his reflection, almost like those colorful 3D pictures you have to stare at for a while before you see the hidden image. He rubbed his eyes.
“Grey, are you OK?” Artorius’ voice startled him. He fought the urge to look behind him. He slowly finished rubbing his eyes and again gazed at his own face in the screen.
Just me, he thought. Man I must be tired.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said finally. “Just a bit tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” agreed Artorius. He suddenly jerked, looking squarely at the right side of Monson’s face. Troubled, he spoke in an unsure voice.
“Grey, what happened to your face?”
Monson laughed. “Wow, this conversation sounds familiar.”
Artorius laughed as well, catching on. “Ahh…memories…but no, that wasn’t what I was referring to. Your jaw is all red and puffy.”
Monson paused, unsure whether he should tell Artorius what happened. He decided he should.
“Casey.”
Artorius’ eyes bulged. “He hit you?”
Monson nodded his head. “Yeah.”
“Why?” Artorius sounded stunned.
“Probably because I was there and in his way.”
Artorius’ shock gave way to curiosity. “What happened?”
Monson smiled weakly. His jaw still hurt. He relayed the details of the incident as best he could. Amazement spread its way across Artorius’ face.
“So what happened after he hit you?”
“I lay on the ground for a bit and then came back here. I’ve been waiting for you and him ever since.”
He flipped open his phone. “I texted him this morning, and again about an hour ago. Haven’t heard from him.”
Artorius ran a hand through his hair. Some sort of internal struggle seemed to be plaguing him now. “I think we need to talk, Grey.”
Taken aback, Monson asked, “About what?”
Artorius smiled. “About the very thing that you’ve been wondering. I think we need to talk about Kylie and Casey.” He looked at the bruise starting to form on Monson’s face. “There’s an explanation for his behavior. Please don’t think badly of him.”
Monson’s confusion was mounting. “Hold on, Arthur.”
Artorius glared at him.
“Sorry.”
Monson shot him a big smile. He winced as his jaw twinged painfully. “I thought we wanted Casey to tell his story.”
“We did.”
“So what changed?”
Artorius gave him a serious look. “Everything, but that’s not the point. I think you’ve earned this one.”
*****
”I can’t give you all the details,” said Artorius.
The two were in Monson’s room now, Monson lying on the bed and Artorius in his customary spot by the window. They both snacked on some rice cakes that Brian left out. They were very dry and without much flavor, but they were low in everything from calories to sugar so Brian loved them.
Artorius continued talking after taking a bite of his cake.
“I don’t know the whole story myself, but as these stories tend to start, Kylie and Casey were childhood friends. They grew up together and—”
Monson, anticipating his next words, interrupted. “Oh, let me guess. They grew apart as they went to school.”
Artorius looked unsure of himself. "Yes and no at the same time. It’s kinda hard to put into words.”
“Wait,” Monson put up a hand. “Allow me.”
Artorius waved his hand as if to tell him he had the floor.
Monson cleared his throat. “They were childhood friends, very close, inseparable in fact.
And for the longest time, like family. No...even closer than family. When the time came, they started school together and remained just as close, supporting each other through all kinds of trials. Both were very happy with their friendship and the obvious hints of something more just under the surface…”
He gave Artorius a small wink then continued.
"Which all changed when Kylie came to school one day, looked down and realized she had boobs and a smokin' bod, and then all of a sudden Cassius Kay wasn’t qualified to be her friend anymore. Jealously, anger and bitterness swelled as the turbulent, unsettled and tragically unspoken feelings took their toll, destroying the once-glorious relationship. Now? Now they hold fast to the remnants of that glorious past, not wanting to dwell on it, but sometimes thinking of how things might have been.”
He put his arms up as if to say ta-da then quickly put them back to his side, mortified. Artorius just looked taken aback.
“Sorry, Arthur,” Monson berated himself inwardly, ashamed once again of his habit of using humor to deal with sad or depressing things.
Artorius recovered. “No, it’s fine. I’m just amazed at how close you are to what really happened. How did you guess?” Then as an afterthought he added, “And don’t call me Arthur.”
Monson shrugged in relief. “I was in a hospital bed for two months. I watched a lot of TV. I’m pretty sure I saw this on an episode of Days of Our Lives.”
Artorius tried to talk and laugh at the same time, which caused him to choke on his half-chewed rice cake. “Well, I’ll try and fill in the details that Days of Our Lives left out.”
He settled back, making himself more comfortable. “Really, for the most part, you got the bulk of the story correct. They were friends. Really close ones from what I understand. What you don’t know is that Kylie didn’t just go through puberty; she went through a… a change.”
Monson chuckled at this. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m glad that we got that out of the way. I don’t think we need to continue this story. I really feel that I understand both Kylie and Casey in ways that I didn’t even think possible.”
