Reflections
Beckett Fowl
In his form room, Beckett Fowl's teeth clacked relentlessly against the polished enamel of his Mont Blanc pen in a vain attempt to quell his boredom. He was fully aware that he ought not to be slacking; but calculus was just so boring. Why would anyone in their right mind enforce mathematics as a compulsory subject? The young aristocrat scowled. For the nth time, he wished for his brother's company- Myles, who currently was two divisions up on him, was probably sailing through pure mathematics years beyond Beckett, whilst leaving him here to rot with the other halfwits who, like him, had paid their way into this school with money and/or family connections. God, could he do with his twin's help right about now. Myles would probably spot a far more elegant solution to his arguments within half a second, whilst simultaneously providing Beckett with some obscure reason far beyond him as to why his own proof was far from absolute.
The teenager scowled to himself, removing the customised designer pen from his mouth and wiping it clean on the navy sleeve of his uniform jumper, inspecting it for scratches and nicks with conscientiousness that would have ascertained him immaculate grades in the unlikely event that he ever applied it to anything even vaguely academic. Compared to the rest of the Fowl men, relatively, acadaemia had never been Beckett's strong point, and he had no intention of ever working towards what would not be effortless to achieve.
The pen had been a gift from Arty for his thirteenth birthday, and it was a souvenir that the young Fowl deeply cherished. Myles had received something utterly different from their older brother for his coming of age into teenagerhood- a severely miniaturised electron microscope that Arty had cobbled together himself, or something to that effect. Despite their marked differences, the few things that the Fowl twins had in common was the love of their parents, and their unadulterated adoration for the oldest Fowl son.
Beckett knew that he wasn't stupid; far from it. He had an IQ of 162, well above the average of the general population, and he had never failed at anything, once he truly set his mind on it. But between a prodigy of an elder brother that he had put on a pedestal who had the highest IQ in Europe, and a twin brother who was a savant of natural sciences in his own right, Beckett now knew that he would never amount to anything truly remarkable. Beckett was bright, yes, incredibly bright, but not brilliant. And therein was where the fundamental difference between him and his brothers lay.
In his reflective state, the joyous ringing of the school chimes signalling the end of the school day had somehow managed to pass the fourteen year old by, as he shook himself out of his stupor, gathering his things, lest he be the last to leave the classroom, putting himself at risk of questioning by their strict schoolmaster.
Almost immediately he spotted Myles by the open doorway, waiting for him outside. His blonde hair curled devilishly as it fell upon his eyes, the same piercing blue that all Fowl men of their family shared, promising a proposition of mischief once they were reunited.
Beckett winked in reply, inwardly smiling to himself as he rose to join his brother outside. Well, he supposed, in the grand scheme of things, there were far worse afflictions for one to live with.
A/N: I own nothing, prompt provided by Chaos Dragon. Never written Artemis before, I'm still rather nervous about the prospect. Concrit greatly appreciated! :D
