by Collin Earl
Monson thought on this. “Yeah…I’m still not getting your point.”
“I’m getting there,” said Artorius. “OK, so most of the students have money, right?”
“Yes….”
“So what conclusion can we draw from that little piece of information?”
Monson had no idea. “That…they can buy a lot of stuff.”
“Precisely!” Artorius beamed. “People with money aren’t used to being denied access to something that they really want.”
“I still don’t get it,” said Monson. “Are you trying to tell me that I have something that people really want?”
“Yes,” said Artorius, “that is exactly what I’m telling you.”
Chapter 23- Confrontation
“Come on—you don’t think this is just a little bit weird?”
The three boys were in gym class a couple of days after Kylie’s surprise visit and her unsolicited gift. Casey, Artorius and Monson were planning on sparring with the kendo club in the hopes of teaching Monson the proper technique for fending off more than one opponent. Artorius was setting things up while Casey and Monson watched. Both of them were having problems paying attention.
Casey was reclined on his elbows as Monson played with his kendo armor. Casey cracked his neck. “If I say yes, will you promise to stop talking about it?”
“Why aren’t you more interested in this?” asked Monson as he heaved his bokken absentmindedly. “Kylie. She’s playing some sort of angle. She has to be.”
Casey sighed, exasperated. “For starters, Grey, nothing Kylie does gives me pause. She’s just that way. Two, even if she is playing some angle, I don’t care enough to engage.”
“You sure are pissy today. Do you need a hug?”
“From you? I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss. I give great hugs.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Monson and Casey looked up as a group of older boys, most of whom Monson had rarely seen, let alone spoken to, approached them.
The tallest boy, a rough-looking fellow who Monson knew to be the captain of the basketball team, leaned down, all six feet four inches of him. “Monson Grey, right?”
Monson looked to Casey then back to the boy. “Grey? Nope, sorry—never heard of him.”
The tall boy was not amused.
“Yeah, you’re funny. Anyway, listen: How about you and I work out a deal here. I’ll give you five hundred dollars for Cyann’s phone number.”
Others behind the boy interrupted.
“I’ll give you a thousand!”
“Two thousand!”
“Five thousand dollars!”
Monson looked at the gathered crowd, speechless. How did they know?
“Sorry fellas, I don’t know what you’re—”
“Cut the crap, Grey,” said another boy farther back who was pushing his way forward. It was Martin, the governor’s son, the boy that Kylie had Jedi-mind-tricked. “Your involvement with Cyann is old news. We know you’ve got the information. So why don’t you hand it over?”
“Listen guys, don’t make me repeat myself. I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if did, I’d tell you that Cyann’s phone number is not for sale. I would happily give it to all of you if I could. But she obviously doesn’t want it handed out. End of story.”
The boys started to protest loudly, employing everything from insults to whining. Casey slapped Monson in the back. “You know, Grey, there might be something to your Kylie-playing-at-some-angle discussion.”
Monson rolled his eyes as more boys headed their way.
*****
“I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell you this. This is not open to argument. The answer is no.”
Muttering broke out as the group of five or six boys dispersed and dejectedly went back to their various gym activities. Many venomous looks were directed at Monson; he returned them with enthusiasm.
He let out a deep sigh. They were gone…finally. It had been the same thing over and over again for the past several days, ever since the student body had found out that he was in possession of Cyann’s number. People—boys mainly, but even some girls—constantly dogged him, trying to get him to reveal the coveted information. He had known that Cyann was in demand, but this was just silly. What made it worse was that he did not even know how this came to everyone’s attention. Kylie was the most obvious answer, but why would she say anything? The whole affair just irked him.
“You handled that well.”
Casey sat down next to Monson. Monson gave him a sour look.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
Casey gave him a smirky smile, the one he wore when he was trying to be clever. “Come on, you always said you wanted to be popular.”
Monson continued to glare at him. “This is ridiculous! I can’t believe the uproar. Why is everyone acting like this?”
“You should know the answer to that.”
Monson was skeptical. “Sorry, I refuse to accept that as the only reason. I just don’t understand how it’s possible that NO ONE has Cyann’s number.”
Casey’s tone was sympathetic. “I know, right? It’s been all over the blogs. I don’t think you understand what Kylie got you into, Grey. Gossip Guy’s blog is blowing up. You’re the first guy since Cyann’s launch into celebrity-dom to have any sort of connection with her. Cyann’s stock is very high right now and unfortunately you’re caught in the crossfire of pointless jockeying for position.”
“Launch?”
Casey smiled. “Grey, your social naiveté is so sweet it almost makes me want to vomit.”
“Is that a compliment or insult?”
“I think it was kinda both.”
“I want you to be comforted by the fact that you don’t sound crazy at all.”
“Har, har, har, Grey. Listen, it’s like this. Cyann. Every guy wants her. Every girl wants to be her. You are the only man in existence with her number and a direct link to the elusive little vixen herself. Of course you’re going to get some flack! It just comes with the territory.”
“That’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And it doesn’t make any sense. Don’t get me wrong. Cyann is smokin’ and all. I get that, but what about Taris? I have Taris’ phone number and nobody gives two shakes. Wasn’t she supposed to be the stuff?”
Casey laughed. “Oh Grey, you are so innocent and yet you always ask just the right questions.”
“As enigmatic as ever, Casey.” Monson leaned back. “So are you going to answer my question?”
“Dude, we’ve gone over this. There’s really not much to it.” Casey, mimicking Monson’s movements, reclined slightly. “Taris is extremely popular, has been for a while now. When she goes on tour and stuff, she’s huge. You should see it. It’s crazy! Fans, paparazzi, groupies—the works. And it’s not like people aren’t just as star struck here, but she’s known. People understand why she’s so untouchable, and she’s had her share of…how do you call them…love affairs. It’s different in Cyann’s case.”
Casey gave Monson a serious look. “Did you know that Cyann’s dad is the biggest landowner in the country?”
Monson looked shocked. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah. He owns like half the world or something.”
Monson gave him skeptical look. “You’re exaggerating just a bit.”
“Yeah,” Casey conceded. “But only a bit.”
Monson’s eyebrow shot up.
Casey continued. “OK, how about this one: Cyann’s adopted.”
“What?” Monson’s eyes got so wide he thought they might fall out. “No way.”
“Way,” said Casey. “Totally way.”
“Whoa….” Monson was at a loss for words. She and Indigo looked so much alike. “Crazy.”
“I know,” agreed Casey. “The stuff you pick up when you do a bit of digging.”
Monson furrowed his brow. “That’s all fascinating but it still doesn�
��t explain—”
“Hold your impatient horses, I’m getting there.”
Monson fell silent as Casey continued.
“Cyann has supermodel looks, amazing grades, top-notch fighting abilities which, incidentally, no one can explain. The girl can even act. Add all that to the fact that she was also adopted by one of the richest men in the world, a man whose business reputation alone puts people on edge, and we have ourselves a situation that has transitioned from reality into the fantastical. Mr. Harrison…dude…he’s cutthroat like no one you’ve ever seen. And yet, he absolutely fawns over his adopted daughter. Fawns, Grey, like a preschooler with a puppy. When she came on the public scene everyone—and I mean EVERYONE—wanted a piece. From movies to music, Cyann could have had her pick. Now all this was quite new for our Ms. Harrison, who had only been in her new family for a couple of years. She could have run with it. You don’t understand, Grey, she could have been big, huge! But she ignored them all, instead coming to this school at the request of her father and thus disappearing from the limelight. The entertainment industry moved on as it tends to do, but this whole Diamond/Cyann potential love affair has really brought her back into the spotlight.”
“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.
