Rod called after him, "Because the women of the family stayed out past
Pfeiffer's nap, you can walk with him on the beach this evening, after we
eat. Okay?"
Artemis nodded indifferently, waving a hand once over his shoulder. As soon as he heard the van pull away, he pulled out the mini computer and accessed one of his many e-mail addresses. He had over 50 messages, since it had been a long time since he had been alone. The endless chatter of California's teens buzzed in his ears, driving him up the wall.
Someone made a rude comment and a group of guys burst out laughing.
Artemis looked up squinting.
The "leader" appeared to be pointing and laughing at him.
His temper flared for the 2nd time in California. He ignored them and continued with his e-mail.
They burst out laughing again, even louder this time.
Finally, he snapped. He sighed loudly, put his palm pilot in his pocket, stood up and began walking away.
The ring-leader imitated his sigh, extracting another round of snickers from his cronies.
Artemis hardened his mouth into a thin line, determinedly. 'I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me get angry. I will not!' He walked down the path, about 50 feet away from the shore, watching already tan children splashing in the ocean happily.
The teens that were snickering at him earlier had evidently decided that he was an entertaining target to torment for as long as they could.
He heard their heavy footsteps behind him, drawing closer and closer. He paused for a minute to tie his shoe, which had become untied in his rush to give the offending teens the slip.
In his moment of distraction, they had formed a seamless circle around him quietly.
He stood up slowly, listening carefully to their monotonous buzzing.
The leader stepped forward, "Well, well, well. What do we have here? It looks like a stuck-up foreigner. Where is your kilt, foreigner? Did you leave it with your mommy in England?"
Artemis gave in to his anger and replied coolly, "For your information, you juvenile delinquent, I am from Ireland. A kilt comes from Scotland and my mother is just fine, thank you very much."
They all laughed again, as the punk spoke, "Oh! We have a tough guy! What should we do with this tough guy? Should we teach him some manners?"
"Yeah!" they all chorused in unison.
Artemis listened to all this with a growing sense of unease.
Suddenly, their laughter lowered a notch. Their once fun-filled laughs now carried a dangerous undertone. He turned back to the leader, who was smirking confidently. Like the punks surrounding him, his voice was dangerously low, "Do you need some lessons in manners, Irish boy? I'm a very good teacher."
"No, thank you." Artemis turned around and tried to walk away. He found himself suddenly hemmed in on all sides.
The leader's voice went down another notch, "Well, isn't that too bad. I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson anyway."
Artemis saw the fist coming but didn't connect it with the fact that it was probably going to hit him until it had already happened. He suddenly found himself reeling backwards, tripping and falling to the ground.
The leader stood over him for a minute and for a moment Artemis thought that he was going to hit him again, then, the entire group turned tail and ran.
Artemis faintly heard someone yelling unintelligible phrases after them.
Through a foggy daze, he saw a vaguely familiar figure bending over him, "It will be all-right, Artemis. They're gone."
As consciousness slipped from him, he felt someone picking him up gently, almost as if he were a porcelain doll.
"It's okay now. I'm here."
Artemis nodded indifferently, waving a hand once over his shoulder. As soon as he heard the van pull away, he pulled out the mini computer and accessed one of his many e-mail addresses. He had over 50 messages, since it had been a long time since he had been alone. The endless chatter of California's teens buzzed in his ears, driving him up the wall.
Someone made a rude comment and a group of guys burst out laughing.
Artemis looked up squinting.
The "leader" appeared to be pointing and laughing at him.
His temper flared for the 2nd time in California. He ignored them and continued with his e-mail.
They burst out laughing again, even louder this time.
Finally, he snapped. He sighed loudly, put his palm pilot in his pocket, stood up and began walking away.
The ring-leader imitated his sigh, extracting another round of snickers from his cronies.
Artemis hardened his mouth into a thin line, determinedly. 'I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me get angry. I will not!' He walked down the path, about 50 feet away from the shore, watching already tan children splashing in the ocean happily.
The teens that were snickering at him earlier had evidently decided that he was an entertaining target to torment for as long as they could.
He heard their heavy footsteps behind him, drawing closer and closer. He paused for a minute to tie his shoe, which had become untied in his rush to give the offending teens the slip.
In his moment of distraction, they had formed a seamless circle around him quietly.
He stood up slowly, listening carefully to their monotonous buzzing.
The leader stepped forward, "Well, well, well. What do we have here? It looks like a stuck-up foreigner. Where is your kilt, foreigner? Did you leave it with your mommy in England?"
Artemis gave in to his anger and replied coolly, "For your information, you juvenile delinquent, I am from Ireland. A kilt comes from Scotland and my mother is just fine, thank you very much."
They all laughed again, as the punk spoke, "Oh! We have a tough guy! What should we do with this tough guy? Should we teach him some manners?"
"Yeah!" they all chorused in unison.
Artemis listened to all this with a growing sense of unease.
Suddenly, their laughter lowered a notch. Their once fun-filled laughs now carried a dangerous undertone. He turned back to the leader, who was smirking confidently. Like the punks surrounding him, his voice was dangerously low, "Do you need some lessons in manners, Irish boy? I'm a very good teacher."
"No, thank you." Artemis turned around and tried to walk away. He found himself suddenly hemmed in on all sides.
The leader's voice went down another notch, "Well, isn't that too bad. I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson anyway."
Artemis saw the fist coming but didn't connect it with the fact that it was probably going to hit him until it had already happened. He suddenly found himself reeling backwards, tripping and falling to the ground.
The leader stood over him for a minute and for a moment Artemis thought that he was going to hit him again, then, the entire group turned tail and ran.
Artemis faintly heard someone yelling unintelligible phrases after them.
Through a foggy daze, he saw a vaguely familiar figure bending over him, "It will be all-right, Artemis. They're gone."
As consciousness slipped from him, he felt someone picking him up gently, almost as if he were a porcelain doll.
"It's okay now. I'm here."
