He stood up and again headed to the window seat. The cushion was nice and soft, made of an odd, water-smooth material. Monson moved the blackout shade to reveal soft, gloomy gray light, courtesy of storm clouds congregating above Coren Valley. The rain appeared to be gone for the time. It was all the same to him. He leaned against the window, hoping his unpleasant thoughts would drain from him just like the water drops draining from the side of the building.

  Suddenly, Monson sat bolt upright, disgust threatening to overcome him. How could he forget something that important? No wonder he was having nightmares! He jumped out of bed and ran to the double doors, throwing them open with gusto. He searched for his luggage, scanning the room. He found the suitcases propped carefully against the opposite wall. Running over to them, he started tearing at them in a frenzy, opening bags and sealed packages alike, taking little notice of the contents. With a sigh of relief, he found it. A dark rag covered a small old wooden frame. It had been wrapped with such care that although it was obvious the frame was old, the dark wood gleamed brilliantly, displaying neither scratch nor blemish.

  Sorrow assaulted Monson as he held up a photograph of a smiling man. Gray hair, messy and unkempt, fell into?t into soft, kind eyes that spoke of dignity and experience. Monson smiled, cradling the picture, and feelings of contentment welled up inside. He walked purposefully to his nightstand and placed the framed photograph on the bedside table with tender affection. He took one last look at it before crawling back into bed. So much had happened to him in the last few months, and now he once again found himself in a strange place with strange people. He felt overwhelmed and alone.

  I am so sorry, Monson thought as he lay in his bed. I won’t forget again. As sleep enveloped him, he muffled a simple goodnight to the man in the picture. He knew that he would sleep better this time because his grandpa was watching over him.

  BOOM… Boom… Boom!

  What is that? Monson groaned sleepily, still under a copious amount of covers. He heard it again.

  Boom!

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  Was it getting louder? BOOM!

  The sound… it felt like… something was here. Right on top of him.

  Ahh, crap, Monson thought. He thought he knew what the “boom” was. Monson pushed the comforter off his head and caught a fleeting glimpse of Artorius leaning on the big oak doors. He appeared greatly amused. Before Monson could say anything, he felt a sharp pain in his chest as Casey’s high-flying form crumpled into him.

  “Time to get up, Scarface!” Casey dug his elbow further into Monson’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. “You’ve slept long enough.”

  It took Monson a minute to get Casey off and inhale enough air to answer. “What time is it?” Monson tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes.

  “Five thirty. You see, you’ve gone and spoiled everything now.” Casey grinned. “You aren’t going to sleep tonight, and you’ll be extra-tired for class tomorrow.”

  “Speaking of which,” Monson said, suddenly thinking of something, “when do we find out our course schedules?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Casey replied, propping himself up on an elbow next to Monson. “Though four of our classes are already chosen for us.” His face soured slightly. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”

  There was a loud rumble, making all three boys jump. Laughter broke out when Monson’s stomach gave another massive grumble.

  “Dude,” Casey said through a burst of mirth, “when was the last time you ate? You sound like you’re dying.”

  “It’s been a couple of days since I’ve eaten properly,” Monson admitted. “I was just too nervous to keep anything down.”

  “Well, that settles it, doesn’t it!” Artorius exclaimed. “We need to find this boy some food.”

  “It’s about that time anyway,” Casey agreed, checking his watch, “or you know we wouldn’t bother.” He grinned deviously, watching Monson’s reaction.

  “Really.” Monson’s eyes narrowed as he caught on. “Hey, Case, how’s Kylie? As I recall, you have a story to tell us.” Then, looking at Artorius, he added, “Well, you have a story to tell me at least.”

  Casey blanched and tried to reply but appeared to be at a loss for words.

  “Ahhh,” Monson crooned mockingly in a high voice, “you’re embarrassed. How sweet!”

  Casey flushed a deep crimson, and Artorius laughed. Instead of answering, Casey slid off the bed and started toward the door. Monson laughed and threw a fist in the air. “Looks like that’s one for me, Cassius.”

  Casey suddenly stopped, as if contemplating something, then said abruptly, “Ah, screw this!” He whipped around and ran, jumping at the last second. Monson watched in horror as Casey sailed toward him.

  “All right, Hero!” Casey yelled through muffled laughter as he landed on top of Monson for at least the third time that day. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”