Dreams of Artemis

There was once a boy who resided in the Fowl Manor, a boy who was pale and had raven black hair and slept the nights with a butler named Butler over his side and was called Artemis from his father who was named after a Greek Goddess. This boy, Artemis, also possessed an incredible genius that got him in trouble a number of times. Through his trouble he gained friends and foes and made a life and name for himself. That title was criminal mastermind.

There was one problem in his title. The fact that he couldn't get away from it. Now that's what everyone knew him as and it caused him a life of trouble and pain. Now it is up to two to save Artemis from death and possibly worse.

Hurry Beckett. Hurry.

Beckett awoke with a short scream. It wasn't unlike him to make sudden loud noises, him being the overly excited actor of the family and all; but for him to actually wake up screaming- well It was strange and discomforting He couldn't even remember what he had been dreaming about. Nothing scary or horrible, he always remembered his nightmares and he knew this wasn't one of them since all he could remember was a haze and some whispered words.

He could imagine it was a quiet ominous voice whispering in his ear like it was next to him-

The blond Irish teen (who had lived in America since he was seven) turned to see no one in his room. Just a few posters of bands he liked, a small nightlight that was never turned on back from home, and an old picture of him with his brothers. The room was bare except for these slight mementos. No one else lived in his dorm and the dorm rooms from up the hall were too far for some one to run down to his room just to whisper to him while he slept and run back up to their room without making any noise on the creaky wood-under- thin carpet and not to draw on his face or something.

He got up and turned on the light to gaze into a pocket mirror he had once received as a gift from his oldest brother Artemis, the senior boy thinking Beckett was the type to worry about his looks just because he wasn't very good at schoolwork. Beckett didn't appreciate the assumption just as much as Artemis didn't appreciate Beckett calling him a nerd once through a text, just because he was smart enough to stay in the Fowl's Irish education program and Beckett was sent here because he could pass the test.

Beckett wasn't bitter though. Not at all.

He looked in the mirror as if seeing his face for the first time in years. It could be considered that long though. This school, Jonathan Laas School of Instruction (JLSI) was against bullying to the highest degree, so one way of preventing the issue, was to establish a rule against all vanities of any sort. The only reason this small mirror was allowed in was because Artemis was Artemis and could pay off just about anybody.

Beckett let out the irritated sigh before he could even think about it.

His face was pale, paler than most; either because his denial of wanting to be a redhead and naturally special or because he was from a decent of pale people; he didn't know. He also noticed the curls of his blond hair were straightening out and his blue eyes weren't as wide and childish as he remembered. He was losing his cherub features. His face was starting to elongate and lose it's babyish fat.

No one had drawn on his face.

He looked more like Artemis than ever in he middle of the night too, the crankiness settling over him. He couldn't help the smirk that came to his face just then either, to see how it was coming along for himself. He was coming along just fine.

It was apart of his skit for class to act out his family. He had already gotten Mom's willowy, sort of sad smile down, he had Dad's manly fatherly look of concern committed to memory, he smirked like Artemis naturally and Myles . . . Well Myles didn't matter.

He was a speck in Beckett's fun-loving world. He could live his life of reality for as long as Beckett cared. He could-He could-

Beckett grunted and dropped the mirror before he slammed it against the wall. There was something about Beckett's identical twin that made him do that. Made him angry and unhappy and want to hurt things more than a normal teen in fight-acting 101 did. Was that normal? He knew of twins who were fraternal who would often try and confide with him, but he couldn't judge their word to his because they never got their identities mistaken or names switched for each other.

It could just be a Beckett thing too.

He remembered, Dad always used to say that when Beckett did something stupid that a genius wouldn't do. Like it was cute and sweet and acceptable, those memories made him smile; but Myles on the other hand would say it with a mocking half laugh and usually whisper something to Artemis right after with a giggle and nasty glances back at his twin.

Beckett put his mirror back under his bed with a sigh, turned off the light and jumped back into his uniform navy blue bed.

He fell asleep and didn't dream.

That's why he hated waking up in the middle of the night and thinking about his family, they always took the fun out of his night and replaced it with reality.

The buzz of Beckett's phone alarm woke him, and the bright, glorious, sadistic sun was out this time shining its rays of light in all the drowsy student's unveiled windows.

Beckett, who was not and would never be a morning person; struggled to get up for the fact that light visibly zapped his strength. Anything that had to do with standing or moving around when Mr. Sun was still weak itself had a bad effect on him. That's also the reason (he has never told his family and he's made sure to properly threaten the people who might) that he was failing all of his morning classes.

Somehow he managed to stand and eventually shuffle out to the hallways with all the rest of the male students at his school.

Some of the boys were born and raised through the Jonathan Lass Industry's, West Wing program. A program for wayward parents who were thinking about getting rid of their child but decided against it, giving those children a place to stay and learn. West Wing is basically a foster home without all the fostering and such and yes, Beckett had to be registered as a child almost abandoned by his parents since he couldn't make it into Artemis and Myles' fancy school back home.

The truth was, his parents couldn't stand the shame of not having a genius in the family and sent him far away so they could tell their friends he died or ran away or something, or at least, that's what Beckett thought anyway. He wouldn't blame his parents for his low self-esteem habits; but that's how it felt going through so much trouble just to be boarded here in America where he barely remembered he was a Fowl.

"Ay! Space cadet Bucket! You homing in or on the moon?" A redheaded boy with bright amber eyes was the source of this slight verbal attack so early in the morning. His best friend whose name was Jake Sien and probably made friends with the surprising ease as one of his enemies: the popular kids.

Beckett jogged to his friend who was dubbed a wild child years back. The only thing going for Beckett's life right now was that Jake was his comrade and wasn't threatening to bite his heart out while he slept. That's also one of the many reason why Beckett and Jake can't be in rooms with others; reputations, reputations.

Jake was the only one Beckett told about his family of prodigies and Beckett was the only one Jake told about the kleptomania running through the veins of his family: they were best friends since then.

Something about these plights struck Beckett as trivial even though they were their own.

Sometimes he got a little deep when he wasn't dealing with life first-hand.

"Bucket!" Jake called getting irritated. Beckett tore his absent gaze up from the floor to see his friend in his face.

"Yes?" He answered, oblivious.

Jake knocked on his head with a laugh. "You're such an idiot, I swear. Do you ever pay attention?"

Silence. "Yeah, I guess."

Jake stopped suddenly and turned to face his friend before they went to the shower.

"What's wrong with you? You're usually really on top of things and would have hit me back. What's with this prissy answer of 'Yeah I guess'?" Jake disgusted, turned to a horde of his other friends.

While Beckett thought and walked, his cell buzzed on from inside his room. Artemis flashing in big bright letters on the screen. An urgent message that Beckett would certainly not be getting at least for another eight or-so hours.