Artemis Fowl Extraodinaire
By Adore A. Bell
In the back seat of a maroon Bentley sat a boy, staring fixedly at his wireless laptop screen. He leaned slightly as the car made a slight turn to face the gates that shielded Fowl Manor from the rest of the world. The manservant in the front seat punched in the access code, and the gates swung inward. The car continued up the oak-lined gravel driveway, which was surrounded by two hundred acres of the pristine green terrain that Ireland was famous for. After some seconds, the car reached the front of the manor. It was an imposing sight. The structure was more castle-like than manor, dating back to the mid-thirteenth century. There the infamous Fowl family had resided since the time of the Crusades.
A veritable giant stepped out of the luxury car and proceeded to open the door for his young charge. After a brief polite thank you, a pale youth stepped out. He was of middling height for his fifteen years, with raven hair and a slight build. Dressed in a three-piece suit he gave off the appearance of a cunning seasoned businessman, who was not at all above the law. His loafers made a crunching sound as he walked across the driveway and into his manor. For this youth was unlike any other boy in the world. How could he be if he possessed a genius that had only been seen since the days of Mozart? This was Artemis Fowl, Junior.
"Mother, father?" employed Artemis as he near bounded up the mahogany stairs, for Artemis never bounded.
"Up here Arty," answered Artemis Senior, our subject's father. The voice seemed to be coming from the terrace, and Artemis made his way there.
A floor later, Artemis had settled himself on a wicker chair besides his parents on the terrace. All seemed to be staring entranced at the picturesque view of Dublin's harbor that could be seen from the terrace. It was many minutes before anyone spoke.
Angeline Fowl, Artemis's beautiful mother, was the first to break the silence.
"Did you have a good term, Artemis dear?"
"Yes, mother. Though I do wish you would stop sending me to that fool of a counselor. I myself have read more psychology books than he," replied Artemis coolly.
" We received you evaluation from St. Bartleby's yesterday," began Artemis senior. "And we were not pleased…." He paused and took a breath. "It seems as though you have some minor social problems, Artemis. The report included such details as that you have no friends you age. You do not socialize. The evaluation even went as for as to say that you do not express any emotions! They say you take no joy, and you do not express sorrow, nor pity for your fellow schoolmates." Artemis Senior's voice has raised itself to persuasive pleading. "Please explain to us why, Artemis. What is wrong? Your mother and I want and honest answer, and we believe we deserve one too!"
Artemis looked at his parents with an expression of actual shock, which gradually changed into that of mild disgust. "They do not deserve my respect," he stated, matter-of-factly. "No one at that school can match my intellectual standards. I will not exhaust myself try to conceal the fact that I do not like them very much, if at all." He uttered these last words with the coldness of sharpened ice that sent shivers down his mother's spine.
"Well then Artemis, you leave us no choice." Angeline almost matched her son's tone, completely devoid of emotion. "You will be removed from St. Bartleby's and sent to a new school. Outside of Ireland. Perhaps even outside of Europe. At your new school, your task will be to master your social skills. I do not care about your academics, for I know you already possess three degrees from Oxford, and have lectured there yourself." At the quizzical look resting on her son's face she said, "Yes, I do know about the degrees." She continued, "It seems as though you are bored at St. Bartleby's. It is a wonderful school, but you do not need academics. You need socialization, and I am afraid Bartleby's cannot offer you that. This leads me to tell you of the decision your father and I have already made. I will ask you this Artemis. What country is renowned for its social activity?"
"America," stated Artemis without hesitation. As soon as the word fell from his lips he regretted them. He has a very bad feeling to where this was leading.
"Exactly." Said his mother simply. "Starting next term, you will continue you education in the United States." Horror was etched in every detail of Artemis's pale face.
"It won't be as bad as you think," said he father brightly. "It will be a lovely climate. After all, we are sending you to Los Angeles"