Fowl Manor 692.85.87

Having Tania Needlemeyer over for dinner was a very delicate matter. The recipient did not desire to spend the evening with her, and would much rather curl up with a book or extend his researches. But, there was no other way in which the recipient could fulfill his needs, please his parents, and get them off his back with without this action.

It was, "Why don't you spend the night at your friend's house?" or "You should join a sport, Arty!" and "Here's a gift for that lovely girl at St. Ivanovna!" since Artemis's father's return. Both of his parents were constantly annoying him to do things a typical teenager would do. When all else failed, there was one thing they held on to: girls.

Thus, it was why tonight, Juliet was showering Artemis with social advice, and Butler was forced to postpone an appointment concerning chirography.

"You know that you have to talk with her and stuff," Juliet reiterated, "so tell me, what is this Tania girl like?"

Artemis groaned. "You don't want to know."

"No, really, you've gotta make sure your parents believe you. You can't imagine how thrilled your mum is since she found out you 'like' this girl."

"I can conceive that perfectly well." He paused to roll his eyes. "I only wish I don't have to go through this torture. I can only take so much."

Juliet hooked a pair of new earrings to her ears. They were long strands of gems that jangled when she moved. "You know that this is for your own good. If you disliked her so much, why didn't you choose another girl to bring home?"

"I think you have it wrong. It's why didn't she choose a different boy."

"Well..." Juliet faced the mirror to adjust the jewelry. "You do realize that millions of girls have been calling the house...and you should have just answered to one of them..."

Artemis got up and walked around the room. He observed his former bodyguard's sister as she fixed her earrings. Polished quartz, he immediately reasoned. They should be the same types of quartz, only they're glossed with silver and violet dyes after tumbling. He stopped watching and continued to pace. "Do tell why millions of girls have been calling."

"They find you attractive. Do you want to know a frightful truth?" Juliet grinned in her reflection and started to fashion her hair.

"No."

"Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway. Okay. This ditzy girl - "

" - They're all ditzy."

"Whatever. So one of the ditzy girls is laughing with her friend or something on school grounds. Suddenly, her friend's like, 'Do you know this boy named Artemis Fowl?' and she said, 'Yes, I do.' Then her friend said, 'Do you like him?' and the girl's like, 'I've had a crush on him since last year, but he has a girlfriend now.' She sighed nostalgically. 'He's incredibly cute. It's just - he never notices me.'" Juliet snickered. "That girl sighed nostalgically! She sighed, okay? That's how badly they're after you."

Artemis was thoroughly revolted. He didn't know whether to laugh derisively or be disgusted, although he did know that he felt both emotions. The boy locked his teeth for the second time in the day. Frankly, he wanted to kick Juliet, or yell some snide remark at her, but all he could do was walk away to his own bedroom. "Do not disturb me, as I am going to meditate, and force myself to forget this charming story you have fed me."

A door slammed.

Irascible, Juliet thought, and rolled her eyes. She had learned that word from Artemis when she was sixteen. That would have made him eleven.

***

What Juliet does not know is my true purposes in associating with Tania. Why wouldn't I invite someone whose company I enjoy more? Imbecilic people are much easier to manipulate than those who can understand Newton's third law.

Concentration was one of Artemis's talents. The irony was that he could go for hours without thinking anything at all, or, when the situation arises, entirely devoting himself to one thing.

Today did not seem to be natural. As much as he tried to calm his mind, he was set towards reviewing everything that had happened today, including the despicable story Juliet conveyed to him.

For example, he continued, that girl named Miriena would be exceedingly hard to control, because she would see what I was trying to do, and possibly backfire my plans. How was it that she could respond with such adroitness to my questions? I have not met such a clever girl, or maybe I have underestimated everyone too often. But for once in my life, I feel endangered. Someone in the world could outsmart me if she was given the opportunity. To make matters worse, that person is two months younger than I am.

Artemis had done commodious research over Miriena Hallinan, including her ethnic background, preferences, and birth date/location before allowing himself to contact her. He usually exercised such scrutiny prior to approaching anyone. Just to be safe.

Well, he decided, I cannot hide here forever. I have a tedious dinner to trudge through, and Juliet is right: this is for my own good, and I myself have chosen to do this, so there is no one to blame. I must complain to myself noiselessly, or Mum and Dad will become wary and suspicious. Despite their encouraging words, they're far from slacking off on me. Both of them know all too well that it is irrational to assume I have changed whole-heartedly this early on.

He rose from his meditative position and opened the door.

A sudden urge to look up the word 'acorn' swept over him. Artemis nearly choked from the overwhelming desire. He knew what an acorn was, but he craved the official definition from a Merriam Webster dictionary. Somewhere inside of him, he desperately hoped that the entry would include something about faeries, because acorns and faeries are unmistakably related, but he forgot how.

Then, a proceeding thought struck him. For two years, he didn't know something. For two years, he, Artemis Fowl, the boy genius, didn't know how acorns and faeries were related. The worst part of the misfortune was his ignorance. He didn't realize the lack until now.

Artemis was going to memorize the official definition. If it didn't incorporate faeries, he would return to his room and cry.

He hadn't scrambled so fast in months. The boy went downstairs to the library, turned to his left, and found the eleventh edition of the Merriam-Webster dictionary. He fumbled clumsily through the pages, feeling light and possessed. Something was making him extremely emotional. Absolute zero - abyss, accuracy - à cheval - ah!

acorn: noun [ME akern, fr. OE aecern; akin to MHG ackeran acorns collectively, Russ yagoda berry] the nut of the oak usually seated in or surrounded by a hard woody cupule of indurated bracts.

Again and again, he read the section on page ten, but there was no mention of the word 'faerie' anywhere. By his seventh read, he had the words burned agonizingly into his mind. Repetition made him shallow and hopeless.

He was never going to find out.

Waves of despair settled in, something which had never tangibly happened before. Artemis shoved the dictionary away and went up into his room, numbed. He locked his door securely; then, he sat on his bed.

Slowly, his eyes began to freeze, like the coming symptoms of Ebola. Artemis tried desperately to look at something - preferably something interesting in his room, before his eyes refused to move forever.

A poster of the hypothetical hyperspace stuck half-heartedly on the northern wall. He studied that a long time ago, so nothing was enthralling there. Opposite that, he sloppily taped an essay by Fidel Castro, printed on an obviously poor printer, as the ink marks were buoyant and fuzzy. The ceiling was designed lamely, despite the grandeur of his habitat. He considered searching for his CD player to listen to Chopin, but his eyes…they never moved...

The boy was too lazy to make his eyes wander over his cluttered table for the player…

Artemis snapped out of the trance, almost embarrassed at this experience. Instinctively, he looked at his fingers. They resembled void more than anything else did.

Presently, he remembered faintly contributing to Théorie des Quanta, a collection of analects regarding quantum theory. He remembered – faintly – something about tachyons...and he wrote about a vague concept of void...

Artemis couldn't remember, though, when he last cried. He couldn't remember even faintly, which may mean he never had. Or he had, but his longing for forgetting it was so strong, he drove this out of his memory. And replaced it with a hypothetical, subatomic particle.

His hands felt something wet on them, like the foreshadowings of an imminent storm.

Now they looked less than void, but not much less.