"Molly..." Monson tried to keep the concern and confusion out of his voice.

  "Shhhh," she said softly. She pulled a small bag out of her pocket and gestured for Monson to take it. "Monson, honey, I have a gift for you. It's something very important to your family, so I want you to promise me that you will always wear it."

  Monson took the small cloth bag and opened it. It contained a small square box, the same type that would hold an engagement ring or anniversary gift. Monson held up the box and then said with some bravado, "Are you asking for my hand in marriage, Molly? Because I’m flattered, but I'm not sure I'm your type."

  Everyone laughed, including Molly. This went on for a moment and helped to relieve some of the tension. Molly, still giggling, said, "Just open the box, smartass."

  Monson did just that and gawked as he beheld a large, silver stone set on a silver chain. Monson looked at Molly in disbelief.

  "Well," Molly said, her voice becoming less emotional and more dignified, "examine it. Get to know each other."

  On this enigmatic note, Monson scrutinized the stone, removing it from its box. More a gem than a mere stone, its color was a deep silver, but seemingly transparent as well. Mesmerized, Monson lifted the stone to the light of the sun and searched its depths.

  Strange. The distance within the stone seemed incomprehensible and changing, like the material just below the surface was constantly shifting. He lowered his arm and smiled. This stone was one of the most mysterious and beautiful things Monson had ever seen.

  "It was your grandfather's," Molly whispered. "He told me to hang on to it. I want you to take very good care of it. It's a gift from him."

  "Molly, I—" Monson stammered, but Molly just put a finger to her lips.

  "Well, then, let's see it on," she said with some of her former excitement. She gestured for him to return it. He gave it back to her and turned around. After another moment, a silver chain appeared around his neck, the stone hanging in the middle.

  It was in that exact moment that Monson finally felt at ease for the first time in a very long while. It was strange, but something about Molly's demeanor, her formality, and even the stone itself gave him a feeling of hope. That feeling, which had been lost to him for some time, was bittersweet. Monson smiled as he looked from the stone around his neck to his two new friends, to Mr. Gatt, and then finally to Molly. As corny as it sounded, he was glad they were all there.

  There was nothing left to say. Monson smiled and then put out his hand to shake Molly's, who was looking relieved for some reason. Abandoning all pretenses, she threw her arms around him and squeezed as if her life depended on it.

  "I'm so proud of you. Hardships await, but you'll rise to the task. I know you will. Be courageous and happy."

  Molly released him. He, in turn, hugged her again. "I’ll see you at Christmas."

  "Of course," Molly said, pulling away and wiping her eyes. "Have a good term." With that farewell, she started toward the other side of the campus and the parking lot. After a short distance, she turned and waved energetically, beaming. It was odd, but something told Monson that he was not the only one to whom she was waving.

  "YOU AND YOUR mom have a really weird relationship." Casey looked perplexed. The look on his face made Monson snicker.

  "Oh!" Monson smacked his forehead. "I forgot you wouldn't know."

  "I wouldn't know what?"

  "Molly isn't my mother."

  "OK... then who is she?"

  "My lawyer."

  Everyone except Monson burst out laughing. This continued for a while until they noticed that Monson was not joining in.

  "You’re serious?" Artorius said.

  "It's a really long story, and it's kind of depressing, so let's not talk about it right now."

  "Fair enough," Casey said, picking up his luggage.

  "OK, but I want to hear this story, so don't forget to tell us," Artorius said.

  "Why are you so interested in Molly?" Monson asked, flummoxed.

  "She was crying," Artorius said, something close to wonderment in his voice.

  "Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?"

  "My dad is a lawyer," Artorius answered, "and I wasn't aware that lawyers could cry."

  They all laughed this time.

  "Mr. Gatt," Casey said, moving toward him. "I believe you were going to show us where we're staying."

  "That I was, Mr. Kay," he replied with a bow. "If you will please follow me."

  They gathered all their stuff once more and moved through the arch and down the center pathway toward the Atrium.

  "This is your entrance," Mr. Gatt explained, looking over to Monson. "It makes it a lot easier than trying to navigate the boys' or girls' dormitories."

  Mr. Gatt took the boys through large glass double doors and started up a red brick path toward the center of the Atrium. The boys followed, marveling at their surroundings, including some expertly crafted stonework.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Wow!" Monson said as he moved through the Atrium. "That's amazing."

  There were statues—a lot of them: stone depictions of heroes and heroines, gods and goddesses, all on the bottom floor of the student dorm. At the center was a large and grandiose fountain with hundreds of spouting veins of water that arced and rippled in a variety of paths. As if this wasn't enough, on top of the fountain stood the statue of a giant, probably twenty-five feet tall and weighing at least a couple of tons. The features of the statue were finely shaped, especially the eyes. Spotlights illuminated his perch, forcing the eye to this spot in the Atrium.

  "Jupiter," Mr. Gatt said simply.

  "Ahh," Monson said, comprehension finally hitting him. Of course. Who better than the king of the gods to watch over the students? he thought. The old myths and legends of antiquity were one of the things Monson enjoyed most about history. The gods especially were of interest to him. Monson asked himself more than once what it would be like to have almost infinite power at your fingertips and still have all the imperfections and contradictions that are so much a part of the human condition. He had heard the saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely. Monson wondered if that was true.

  He took a step closer and examined the fine detail and the smooth marble. He really liked this statue.

  "So, who is this guy supposed to be?" Casey asked, obviously bored.

  "Jupiter," Artorius answered.

  "How did you know that?" Casey asked, sounding slightly surprised.

  "Well," Artorius said, starting to grin. "The huge thunderbolt kind of gave it away. Then, of course, there was the whole part where Mr. Gatt just said it was Jupiter."

  Monson thought he heard Mr. Gatt stifle a laugh, though when he spoke, his voice sounded quite level.

  "Over here, please. The Horum Vir's entrance is right around the corner."

  Casey and Artorius grabbed their stuff and started after Mr. Gatt. Monson, however, stood for a moment more, staring at the stunning sculpture. He looked up into the blank, staring face of Jupiter, king of the gods, and shuddered.

  "Absolute power..." He placed a hand on his chin and stared directly into the face of the statue. "So how did that work out for you, Jupiter, old boy? It’s lonely at the top, no? Well, if it makes you feel any better, it ain’t that great at the bottom either."

  Monson winked. Why he winked at an inanimate object, he wasn’t sure. He just felt inclined to do so, and obviously, the statue felt the same way: It winked back at him.

  Monson froze. That did not just happen.

  "Monson! Hurry up or we're going to be late." Casey's voice sounded a short distance off.

  Monson called after him, keeping his eyes on Jupiter, "Late? Late for what?" Nothing came in response.

  Monson tore his eyes from the king of the Roman gods and hurried after the others.

  THE ENTRANCE to the Horum Vir's quarters was a small elevator found in one of the corners of the Atrium. It was a little cramped, but after a few minutes of arranging, Monson, Casey, Artorius, Mr. Gatt, and all the luggage were packed in the elevator and cruising upward to the top floor of The Barracks. Cramped and uncomfortable, talking seemed like a luxury they could forgo.

  After a few sore moments, in which everyone wished wholeheartedly that they had split up, the elevator screeched to a halt and the doors opened. This caused everyone and everything except Mr. Gatt to tumble out of the elevator. Being the closest to the door, Monson fell first. He spilled forward, hitting the ground hard. He looked up just as Artorius and Casey lost their balance. Monson shuddered as they came stumbling out after him.

  In the midst of the disorder, an odd-looking man rushed to their side, catching them all off-guard. He was skinny to the point of bony, with long fingers, high cheekbones, and thin eyebrows. He also had a kind of austere manner that spoke of an unwavering strictness. Despite this, he looked at them with kind eyes that were brown with hints of green.

  "Ah, Brian," said Mr. Gatt, putting his hand forward. "I was wondering where you scampered off to."

  "Markin," Brian said, extending his own hand and shaking Mr. Gatt's vigorously. "It has taken you a great deal longer than I expected. I thought you might be in the Comfort Room with the other students and parents. So I went to investigate."

  "What did you find?"

  Brian shrugged elegantly. "The usual pretentious people, of course."

  "Well, allow me to alleviate that burden," Mr. Gatt replied, letting out a slight chuckle. "Let me introduce you to the new Horum Vir, Monson Grey."

  "Hero," Brian said, giving Monson a slight bow. "I am very glad to make your acquaintance."

  "Hero?" Monson said, confused by the greeting. "Why are you calling me Hero?"

  Brian looked slightly shocked. "Hero—have you not been told what 'Horum Vir' means?"

  "No, I don't think so," Monson replied.

  "Horum Vir is Latin for hero. Well, actually, the Hero."

  Monson raised an eyebrow. "So, I get to walk around with everyone calling me Hero? Nice. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to throw myself off a balcony."

  "I see this one has a quick wit," Brian noted.

  "And a sharp tongue. I think you're going to have your hands full with him, my old friend."

  "Indeed."

  Monson glared at the two men. "On behalf of all teenagers, I just wanted to let you know that we love it when you talk about us as if we aren't here. We think it's awesome."

  Mr. Gatt put up a hand. "Peace, Monson, we're on your side, I assure you."

  Brian bowed. "Please allow me to show you to your quarters. You’re in for quite the treat."

  "You two, please follow me," Mr. Gatt said to Casey and Artorius. "I’ll show you where you’ll be staying."

  "You got it!" Casey said buoyantly to Mr. Gatt as he finished gathering his scattered possessions. "We'll hook up with you later... Hero." He looked highly amused.