Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl. (Now insert your own little disclaimer joke here ( x ) because I can't think of one.)
A/N: Hey, Tora here. After being almost completely absent from the fandom for over a month, I've decided to start writing again. I've really wanted to do this story for a long time, and I'm so happy I'm finally posting it.
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Dr. Poe delicately sipped at his coffee, watching the huddle of teachers through half-closed eyes. It was only a week until St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen opened its doors to the borders. A concept that created tension among the staff. Especially today. Because today was the day each core subject teacher was assigned a dorm house.
Dr. Poe himself experienced no stress whatsoever from this event. It was mostly because he wasn't required to manage a set of dorms, unlike the other staff. Another part was the fact he didn't have to plan any lessons, or really do much academic work with the students themselves at all. His sole job was to provide a shoulder to lean on when the stress of classroom life was just too much to bare, and other make-the-students-feel-better-about-themselves counselor duties.
He allowed his posture to slouch, sinking his body further into one of the red plush armchairs of the second floor teacher lounge. The doctor truly did feel sorry for whichever teacher was put in charge of dorm house nine. It was rumored that every year the school administrators lumped all the "troubled" borders in that dorm house. So far, those rumors had been true.
The band of teachers began to disperse, each heading off to tend to their own business. Only one man was left standing in front of the bulletin board the administrators used to post announcements. A sympathetic smile spread across Dr. Poe's face. This must be the teacher who had been assigned to dorm house nine.
The man turned, massaging his face with one hand. Dr. Poe instantly recognized this athletic man. Mr. David Mackey, science teacher to the fifth year students. At twenty-six, he was the youngest teacher in the school. The doctor had heard many things about this man; how he had received love letters from the students, the time he almost set the science room on fire, and then of course his little tradition mysteriously disappearing for days at a time during winter and spring break.
Dr. Poe was frankly surprised that the science teacher hadn't been fired yet. Al though, his students have had the top science scores of the school for the past three years on final exams. Wasn't Artemis going to be in this man's class this upcoming year? He mused. Well, maybe Master Fowl will be able to break this man's rebellious spirit.
As Mr. Mackey passed the doctor's chair, he looked up. "I guess I'm the unlucky one." He said, sighing.
"If you ever need someone to talk to, I will be there for you." Dr. Poe offered, but Mr. Mackey waved him away.
"I'll be fine. It's not like I'm fifteen myself." He answered.
Mr. Mackey stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Dr. Poe rose from his chair, highly doubting this man would actually be able to cope with the most problematic students in the school.
He made his way over to the quark bulletin board. He himself was curious to see who the roommates of dorm nine would be. Last year's students had all graduated, so this upcoming year meant new borders.
There it was. The packet of papers separated and vertically tacked into columns. Each crisp white paper listed the boarding house number, the teacher who would watch over the dorm, and the eighteen students who would call those rooms their home away from home until the end of the school year.
Dr. Poe ran his finger along the papers, searching for dorm house nine. He pressed the tip of his finger deeper into the paper, creating grey little creases in the once perfect white. He probably knew most of the students in dorm nine already. They had all come to see him at least once, some three or more. He could list them by their problems and insecurities. Disrespectful, depressive and drug addiction, just to name a few.
As his finger scrolled down the list it paused at one name. Artemis Fowl. So the administrators finally recognized him as a problem child, after his years of verbally abusing teachers and bullying the students. This would be interesting. That makes two problematic geniuses in one dorm house. Luckily the other one has no interest in showing off his talents like Artemis does. Maybe there will be a little less melodrama this year than last. New students always mean change.
Hopefully the change will be good, and not the other way around.
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"I win again." The boy said. He unceremoniously knocked over the king. Checkmate. This game had gotten boring. Didn't his father understand he would never beat his son at chess?
His father leaned back against his metal chair. He stared at the chessboard in defeat. "Well that's it then. I guess I give up. You're the better player."
"Hmph. And it only took you twelve times toady, instead of the usual fifteen." The boy rested his elbow on the high table, cupping his chin in his palm. He gazed out into the beautiful scenery of Athlone. He focused his mind on how the sunset turned the River Shannon into a glittering mirror, trying hard to completely ignore his father.
This could be the last time I live in our Ireland house by the water. He thought. The boy sighed. He hadn't known many people in this town so it's not like anyone would miss his family if they left. But the scenery was wonderful. He had been so inspired by its beauty that he snuck out every night to paint it, something he had before never dared to do.
His father tapped the table for attention. "School starts in a week, as you know. I'm not saying St. Bartleby's is a horrible school, but isn't it a little beneath you? I mean, I'm sure you're even smarter than all of the teachers at the school by now. Your mother and I received the results for your I.Q. test yesterday."
"Oh really?" The boy asked, not sounding the least bit interested.
"Yes, and based on the number we got back, I think it's time you start looking at colleges. Maybe something Ivy League. I'm always hearing about how American colleges are so good from my poker buddies. Or Oxford in England. If we send in your application, you could transfer there by January. What do you think about that?" He leaned in closer to his son, waiting for an answer.
A small breeze blew across the water, forming deep waves and destroying the boy's river mirror. The breeze came up and onto the mansion's deck, pulling gently at their hair. The youth wondered if there were rivers like this one in America or England. Probably not, he figured.
"I don't think so Dad. College isn't an option right now. I'd prefer to finish the remaining three years at St. Bartleby's first." He replied.
His father violently slammed his palm against the table. This was not the answer he had expected out of his only son. "Well, why not? You're a genius! You should be at college by now with your I.Q., studying to be a doctor, or a lawyer. Not hanging around with boys who have half your brains!"
"You've forgotten that there's going to be another genius like me there. I could talk to him." The boy still refused to look at his father. He preferred the beauty of this sunset to his father's angry face any day.
"So what? That's just one. And I'd bet all my money that you're smarter than him too! Trust me Satori, you don't want to go to this school anymore. Act your I.Q., and go to college. Make your mother proud." The wind had stopped, and his father had shoved his chair back, forcing himself into Satori's line of sight.
Satori rose, and started back towards their riverside mansion. His feet made soft hollow sounds against the wooden deck as he made his way to the screen door that protected their living room from the local insect life. With his back turned to his father, the youth grinned. "My mom'll be proud no matter where I go, or what I'll do. She's said it herself, many times when I was younger. So that's two against one Dad. I'll be inside, packing my things."
Satori opened and closed the screen door behind him as his father watched, shaking his head in disappointment. His father knew he could do nothing. He has a stubborn streak, just like his mother. I hope the head of his dorm is ready and waiting for boys like him.
A/N: Athlone is in Ireland, by the way. Please review. ; )
