Beepbeepbeepbeep

Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbe--

Di groaned. Stupid alarm clock. She rolled over, staring angrily at the white rectangle that was the cause of her early morning aggravation.

Ugh. 7:30. What normal human being woke up at 7:30 on a Saturday?

Oh yeah. Her parents.

She lay in bed for a few minutes, figuring sge could catch a few more hours of sleep.

Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbeepbeep.

"Argh!" Di threw the annoying rectangle against the wall, where it bounced against the wood paneling and fell into the pile of dirty clothes Artemis kept telling her to pick up. Well, not telling, exactly. More like looking pointedly at the clothes, then at her. The "That Has No Logical Purpose" stare.

'No purpose' she thought. Except that I get to sleep later. The annoying beep was muffled by the clothes. Grinning triumphantly, she rolled over again and snuggled into the blankets.

There was a knock on her door. "Miss Diana? Your mother has asked me to wake you up."

"Go'way Butler," Di groaned into her pillow.

"I was to threaten you with physical removal from the bed if you didn't want to come peacefully."

If Diana had learned anything in her three month stay at Fowl Manor, it was that if Butler was threatening you, you had better listen.

"Go away. I'm getting dressed." She swung her legs out of bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She stifled a yawn, and glanced at the door to make Butler wasn't still watching before she dragged her t-shirt over her head. Grimacing at the 'tasteful' clothing that Minerva had picked out for her, she selected a red blouse – one of the only ones without a collar – and a pair of black slacks. Then she trudged downstairs.

Artemis and Minerva were seated in the Breakfast Hall (as opposed to the Dining Hall, the Lunch Hall, and the Elegant Dinner Hall) sipping coffee (in Minerva's case) and tea (Artemis) and reading newspapers. One of the maids was in the adjacent kitchen, making breakfast. It smelled like oatmeal.

Ew.

Trudging past her parents to the kitchen, she discovered that today's breakfast was, in fact, oatmeal, and therefore she must find something else to eat or die of internal hemorrhaging. Artemis said this fact didn't make any sense, but she said she'd never try oatmeal so she guessed he'd never find out. He would humph, and leave her to her cereal. Speaking of which…

"Hey Mom, what'd you do with my cereal?" She asked Minerva, poking her head out the doorway.

Minerva sighed disapprovingly. "I threw it out."

"Why?"

"It was two weeks expired! Why can't you just eat oatmeal with the rest of the family?"

"Because I don't like eating watered down flakes of cardboard."

"Well then, I'm sorry but you're just going to have to suffer."

"I think I'll pass."

Without looking up from his newspaper, Artemis said "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. If you skip it now, you'll become tired more easily and not have the energy to do all the things you normally like to do on a Saturday." With a sniff to tell her just what he thought of what she liked to do on a Saturday – generally playing video games or shopping – he ruffled his newspaper and ignored the rest of the world again.

She sat down across from her parents and started picking at one of the oranges sitting in the decorative basket on the table. Di attempted to take the entire rind off in one piece, and when that failed, to make a smiley face out of missing rind. She was just about to finish the nose when Minerva said, "Diana, I'd like to talk about your grades."

Picking the last little bit of orange out of the circle, she then started on the mouth. "What about them?"

"Well, you seem to be having a bit of trouble in school."

Drat. She'd slipped with her finger, and the nail and carved off a chunk farther down than she had wanted. "I've got A's and B's, Mom. I'm not having trouble."

"That's it, though. B's. Is there something bothering you, is the teacher not right…"

She'd just have to compensate with pulling off rind from the other side of the smile. "No, everything's fine. I'm just not that great at literature."

Minerva sighed. "I just don't understand why not. It's the easiest thing in the world!"

Damn. Now the smile leered drunkenly off the face of the orange. "Maybe for you, but not for me."

"Well, why not?"

Intrigued by the…difference… of her orange's smile, Di started working on two vampire fangs. "I dunno. I just don't see where my Lit teacher gets off saying that A Separate Peace is supposed to represent World War II. It's just two dudes that go to a boarding school."

"The author used World War II to create the semblance of peace within the school, while really it's just as dangerous in there as it is in the world."

Fangs abandoned, she started ripping off random chunks of rind. "Whatev."

Artemis could take the strain no longer. "Diana, 'whatev' is not a word. Neither is 'dunno'. While 'dudes' may be accepted in the dictionary, it is not used in conversation here. Please refrain from using slang around this house."

The smiley face had deteriorated into a ripped up orange. Di stood up from the table, thinking If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. She left the house, and walked out to the kennels.

Before she could open the door, a shaggy ball of energy bounced out at her, wagging it's tail furiously. Thumper was a pure-bred Belgian Tervuren, something I hadn't even known existed until he showed up in a dog crate at the front door. He looked like a collie, only he was black on his front, which faded into brown all over. Following him, a little more stately, was Maxwell, a Komondor. That's the breed that looks like it got covered with a dust mop – all his hair is gathered into cords that hang off his body. Minerva bought them both for me when I made a crack about how dull the house was. Artemis's only stipulations had been that they were not allowed in the house, and that we hired a trainer for both of them. Thumper had gotten the hang of the training right away, while Maxie was still working on it.

Grabbing the split leash, I snapped it onto their collars. Even though Jenny was paid to walk them, I still liked to do it as an excuse to get out of the house. And the fact that it was morning meant they would want a really long walk, meaning more time out of the house for me.

After about 45 minutes of being dragged around the streets of Dublin by a hyperactive, one-year-old puppy and a three-year-old mop, I decided to turn back.

Butler was waiting for me at the gate. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."