The House of Grey: Volume 1

CHAPTER TEN

  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.