Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl © Eoin Colfer
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Filling
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It is challenging, as a respected psychologist, to wholly realize that you cannot help somebody.
(Even more challenging to realize the patient's twisting the conversations to be about you.)
The psychologistcloses the file titled ARTEMIS FOWL. It is very long. The notes on the bottom is an illegible scrawl because his pen hand went limps as Artemis—14 years old, child millionaire, genius—had discussed his approach on nihilism.
The clock is 02:18. First rule in the shrink handbook is this: don't take your job with you home.
Out of a sudden, there is an idea, trigger unknown. He usually skims through the brochures at work without absorbing it into his long term memory, but knows from his vague recollection of the neurobiology bit from his med. studies that the mind stores every single experience.
An image flashes before his mind: a brown stoned mansion, Western-Europe, titled Caliph's Academy for Brilliant Youth. Perfect.
There is a more selfish undertone to this decision—'If he leaves then this migraine will end!'—but the psychologist does also think that this will be the best for Artemis Fowl, honestly. It is like watching a bird trapped among fish; you pity them as much as you pity it.
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Artemis Fowl takes one final long look at the Fowl Mansion.
He does not quite hiss at his school psychologist, but his sneer does betray his plan to blow up the shrink's car. When he gets back, that is.
"Write the car number down, Butler," is his last order to the stoic man that bows, silently. Artemis almost smiles at the bodyguard. Almost.
His mother watches him leave, but like always, with a sense of otherworldliness, as if she can't quite fathom what's happening. When he'd kissed her cheek and told her goodbye, she'd replied "be home before dark, dear". His poor mother. His poor, insane mother. Arms and legs like tiny branches, shuddering in the wind. He tells—commands—the accompanying social worker to take Mother inside before she breaks. "Crack, crack," he adds, blasé. The social worker is horrified. However, the psychiatrist's pretence dampens it, and the disgust quickly shifts to pity. Artemis scowls and feels like sending her a video telling her that in her apartment there is a bomb, which will explode sometime in the future. Or would have exploded.
IQ does not matter—a minor is, unfortunately, still a minor.
The limbo arrives, ready to ship him off to the airport. Butler helps with the bags.
The psychiatrist gives him an uncomfortable smile. "…I think you'll find friends," he says at last.
Artemis clicks his tongue and pointedly does not look at him. "Who needs friends?" he says, and slams the car door shut after him.
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He expects the stereotypical, loudness of a boarding school—and is greeted with a subdued quiet. No graffiti, no gangs, no usual behavior… Instead, what greets him is a sense of cleanliness and duty. That, and a boy named Charlie, who's going to show him around. There is a space between his front teeth and he is of Turkish descent, judging by the accent.
There is a stone path leading up to the brick mansion, and the surrounding garden is well preserved and not over the top.
"We're here because we are better than average kids at school. Do not let this fool you though. There is no greater folly than arrogance… And that's a phrase you will hear about ten thousands times while staying here. Still, there's some truth to it." An attempt at humor.
Artemis' mouth quirks, barely. Charlie seems to be satisfied, mirroring the expression. He continues speaking, a bit of history here and there, peppered with fun facts like what teachers to avoid. Other students look at him, but they lack sharpness. They look like neutral cats.
For most of the trip, Artemis' eyes remain half lidded. People mistake this for pride—the sin that sent Lucifer down, screaming—or arrogance, but many students wear similar expression, or recognizes it as a defense mechanism. Charlie does the latter. He introduces Artemis to other students, which all have manners and a good arsenal of English, and helps him choose room and classes. For the first time in his life, Artemis finds subjects of his interest. Charlie likes Russian literature, astronomy and Wagner. They get along fine.
It takes him two weeks to realize, when casually waiting for Charlie outside the gym, that he's made a friend. The realization makes his throat go dry. He does not mention it to Charlie.
Artemis slips into a pattern. It's a good pattern.
He even does normal teenage things, like drinking too much one. A polish kid smuggled in the alcohol. Artemis drinks too much and has to run to the toilet, where he in a drunken haze remembers Butler and Mother and unfinished projects—
And promptly pukes all over the toilet bowl.
"You alright?" Charlie asks, getting some tissues.
"Yes," Artemis says suddenly. "Never been better."
Dribbling past the corners of his lips…
It was—
Loneliness.