The House of Grey- Volume 2 by Collin Earl Read Free Book Online Page A

constant chatter concerning the who’s who of famous people. They remained on the side bleachers away from the throng until Damion walked right by them.  It was like magic. One minute there was chatter and laughter, then the next, silence, as Damion stood not ten feet away.   
    It was a tense moment for Monson because he was not sure how the superstar would react to him. Damion’s eyes fell upon the two of them, despite the fact that he was attempting to divide his conversation among a half-dozen other people. Dirty blonde hair fell messily into hazel-brown eyes. His eyebrows were prominent, his jaw line robust, and his stubble masculine.
    Damion turned towards Monson and Artorius, who were both staring like deer in headlights, and waved. Then, his gaggle of girls and groupies in tow, he continued off towards a group of waiting reporters.
    “ Was he waving at you or me?” asked Monson, looking confusedly at Artorius.
    “ I don’t know,” answered Artorius. “I don’t know him personally, do you?”
    “ Not that I know of.”
    Artorius looked towards the still-retreating Damion. “Weird.”
    “ Weird indeed.”
    Damion's cryptic actions aside, the day passed with ease.  Football and famous people were interesting to watch, even if Monson knew little about either. The excitement was something that you could cut with a knife as students mingled with the up-and-coming. Monson, much to his enjoyment, remained separated from it all. There were no dirty looks or whispered conversations. It was just Artorius and him, relaxing. Despite the respite from the normal tumult, he knew it was too good to last, and he was right.
    A horn on the loudspeakers announced a sort of entrance song like the ones pro wrestlers use when they are trying to be flashy. With the sounding of the first notes, the male population of the school went wild, as if some rabies-like virus suddenly infected them. They ran to the front of a large raised platform, literally drooling in anticipation.
    Artorius, who’d moments earlier left for the bathroom, ran up to Monson at a breakneck speed. He stopped suddenly and almost fell. He righted himself without missing a beat.
    “ Grey, we got to move or all the good spots will be taken.” He pulled Monson up and started to move him. “Man, we aren’t going to be able to see anything if we don’t hurry,” he said desperately.
    “ What aren’t we going to be able to see?” asked Monson, “Artorius, what are you on about?”
    Artorius eyes bulged comically. “You don’t know?”  
    Monson sighed; of course he did not know. He never knew.
    Artorius gave him a wide, slightly lecherous smile. “The cheerleading squad is performing, Grey. The cheerleading squad.”
      From what Monson pieced together, apparently a cheerleading squad was a group of girls that attended the various sports games to cheer for their school’s team, and apparently it was a big deal.  It sounded kind of silly to him; why the games needed something like that was beyond him. Seemed like sort of a waste of time and resources.  It was not until Monson saw the girls in their cheerleading attire that he decided how wrong he was.
        The cheerleaders wore short red skirts with gold trim that were cropped above mid-thigh, showing off their strong, tanned legs. Allegedly, the attire was designed to make their acrobatic feats easier, but Monson was sure that was not the only reason.  Sleeveless white and gold tops that did not quite cover the midriff begged for attention from anyone fortunate enough to be close to the girls.  Bright white shoes with no visible sock rounded out the outfit and gave the blatantly sexualized ensemble a wholesome touch that did not quite help Monson shake off the feeling that really, he should be averting his eyes.
    Understandably, many of the cameramen and reporters seemed just as enthralled by the cheerleading “practice” as the male members of the student body. Predictably and more than