Aah! Two weeks! Two weeks! I know it's been forever and ever, but finals are coming. And this is my first year with high school classes. Lots of exam reviews—I mean, our exams are 25 percent of our grade! Well, even though it's really late, it's also really long. That should make up somewhat.
How long do you guys think it's been in the story—about three months? I think that's about right.
But in Christmas Break, I intend on updating more frequently, and the story should be finished before school starts again—thank god I have it all planned out. Which means longer chapters in faster updates. Whether the story being over is a good or bad thing, I will leave it to you to decide.
Summary: Right after Holly gets a job in the LEP, she cuts her hair. Each auburn lock falling through the floor makes her think about choices, and especially their consequences. What will happen after?
Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl. Eoin Colfer does. My (first) name is Rebekah. Rebekah does not equal Eoin Colfer. Eoin Colfer does not equal Rebekah. Therefore, if Eoin Colfer owns Artemis Fowl, Rebekah does not. Logical reasoning.
Haircut
Chapter Eighteen
They won the next three games in a row. One of the commanders got the idea of a betting system, and with Foaly's help, manipulated it so every time the Leprechauns won, the money people betted against them came to the LEP. A good cause.
Now, normally, with their great winning streak—courtesy of the Hulk—nobody would ever bet against them, making the plan unprofitable. But as they say, pride cometh before a fall.
And it really did. Of course, it helped some that with a few friends in high places Foaly was able to get some commercials on everywhere that advertised the betting. Oh, and emphasized on how the Leprechauns would ALWAYS win.
The other teams couldn't handle that, and proudly betted high amounts of cash. Of course, after the Leprechauns, or really just Jon, smushed them in the last game, the bets weren't nearly that high, but nobody wanted to stop betting. That would be like admitting defeat, and why in Earth would you want to do that?
And since there was a limit on how much you could bet (just to keep everyone in check), and there were two teams betting against them and one team betting for them, the LEP made a quaint little profit.
Not to mention they were thinking about having people who came to the games have to bet –it would be mandatory. That way they would have roughly a 2:1 ratio of money gains to losses. Things were starting to look up for the LEP.
But not for Holly Short. She STILL hadn't managed to get her boss to fire her, STILL hadn't been able to get hold of the ball in any of the Crunchball games, and overall, STILL hadn't been able to get an inkling of who the perpetrator of the robbing of the LEP bank account was. Not that she didn't have her suspicions.
"…And he didn't even give me the ball. Not once! How's that for evil? And when'd he get the money for those uniforms! Albie told me that the Hulk—I mean Jon—was poor before, and money doesn't just pop out of holes!" Because of course the People couldn't say "money doesn't grow on trees", since half of them didn't know what a tree was.
Foaly sat at his computer chair (as usual), listening to Holly's story with an impassive face. Now that she had paused for breath, he saw his chance to speak and took it.
"He told you this?"
She hesitated. "Well, he said it in front of everyone, and it was directed to him as a question, not to me as a statement, but pretty much, yeah."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure he wasn't just exaggerating, saying that seven brand-spanking new uniforms were a bit much on the wallet?"
"No," Holly said stubbornly, "Albie's a decent guy. A little obsessive, perhaps, but honest and straight-forward." She talked to him on the field during games, having nothing else to do and being the closest distance-wise to him.
Foaly paused, trying to sort out his words so they wouldn't sound offensive.
"Holly, are you sure you're not, well, just acting on covetousness?" There, he thought, pleased with himself. What a good euphemism.
Unfortunately, it didn't help. Holly sat there, with a blank look on her face. "What?"
"Well… jealousy?"
She exploded, just like Foaly knew she would. He sighed and lay back.
"Jealous! Why in Frond's name would I ever be jealous of him? He can't even fit through doorways right! He—" Holly paused, trying to think of another true insult that didn't sound childish."
"Doesn't pass the ball to you?" The centaur asked quietly. "Takes all the glory?" Holly bowed her head, feeling a little guilty; for she knew his words were true. "And the entire team seems to approve of this? Doesn't that make you a little jealous?
"You're used to being respected, in a way, Holly. You've always stood out, as the only girl, for the past—how long has it been since you joined? Two and a half months?—something like that, nobody has ignored you. And you're not used to that."
Foaly may not have had that many friends, but he was an astute observer and knew how people's minds worked.
She glared at him, not answering. He was right. He was always right.
Foaly took her silence as the answer he knew it to be. He also knew he was always right. Of course, he was a genius.
Just when the quiet was beginning to be a little awkward, his computer started flashing with the signs that he had gotten a message. He turned to receive it, the letters quickly appearing on the page. He read it once, no, twice, his frown deepening then lightening up as he chuckled.
"Speak of the devil."
Holly understood THAT saying. She sat up, attentive. "What is it?"
He scanned the message again, just to make sure. "Our star Crunchball player has been impaired—some sort of dart?—it only happened an hour ago. He's at a Healer's right now. But it looks like he won't be able to play for a while—it's some sort of poison, and while it doesn't seem to be too harmful, it has lingering effects of weakness."
Holly jumped up from her chair, already feeling guilty. Now she knew for sure it wasn't Jon who had robbed the bank. "I've got to go." Foaly nodded, already examining the letter.
She took the bus to the hospital. The lines were long, though, apparently everyone had already heard.
Though the Hulk wasn't THAT famous. Holly was able to get in quite easily, and waited outside the hospital room with a few others. She joined Albie with the rest of their team, who were already there.
While waiting, she was able to think through her suspicions meticulously.
Well, the robber was obviously not the Hulk. Why would he ever get himself attacked, then? But a far-fetched theory was already forming itself in her mind.
Maybe he was the robber! And maybe he thought the uniforms and everything were getting too extravagant, and maybe he knew that Holly was suspecting him! So he decided to get himself hospitalized! And maybe his whole plan was to get the LEP down and poor, then bring it back up thanks to his superb Crunchball playing, and gain all the glory!
But that theory was soon shot down. Trying to get more information, Holly decided to ask Albie, a good friend of Jon's, a few questions.
"Albie?"
He turned slightly to her, looking up from his strategy plans. "Mm?"
"How did the H—Jon, I mean, get the money to buy those uniforms? Didn't you say he was really poor?"
"Well, yeah, he was. But then his grandma died, she was like a thousand years old or something, and left him a whole bunch of money. He's trying to use it for 'the greater good' or something. Sometimes I think that's Jon's greatest weakness—the big guy thinks he can save the world. Which, really, he probably could, but—"
Aware that Albie was rambling, Holly cut him off. "Okay, thanks. I was just curious."
And now she felt even guiltier. Well, so much for that conjecture. She continued to run through possibilities in her head, stopping each one just when it passed the line between not likely and insane. Which was pretty quick.
"They are admitting visitors now." A short (even for an elf) Healer frowned at them as the entire team, family, and fan hordes stood up. "Six at a time, please. There were three members of his family, so Holly, Albie, and Coach Atnek were chosen to go in with them.
The Hulk was sitting on the hospital bed, his massive frame drooping down over both sides of it (but then again, the beds there were cheap and therefore very small). He was grinning at them, looking fully recovered save for a slight greenish tint to his face and his hand covering a bandage on his chest, which must have been where he got hit.
The players, coach, and family simultaneously started fussing.
"Jon, really, you look cold. I'll get another blanket." His mother was already searching in the closet.
"What's this crap they're feeding you? Back in my day hospitals would serve veggies and potatoes—oh yes, potatoes are veggies." Jon's grandfather, who didn't really look too old, (but maybe that had something to do with how humongous he was - apparently the massiveness was hereditary) frowned at the sick-looking pile of food on his grandson's plate.
"Better get out to that hospital gym. Don't wanna be out of shape for the game in three days!" Coach Atnek looked excited at the mere idea of working out.
"Look at this strategy I made—here, this is your place. The rest of us will just sit in front of our goal, making it impossible for someone to score on us. It's foolproof!" Albie, of course. The plan would be a lot better if it weren't all depending on one player. But of course, this was the Hulk, so they all could depend on him.
"You need to come home soon—you've gotten lots of calls! Maybe from a girl, wink, wink, nudge, nudge?" That was Jon's father. He had stumbled upon his son's notes that he passed while being lectured by the Commanders with a friend, and had tried to get 'in sync' with young people's slang. It didn't work too well.
The Hulk grinned wider at all the attention. "Honest, I'm fine. Just a little green from the nasty food," he said, nodding at his grandfather as he said it.
Holly was quiet during the whole thing. She had simply nodded at him in a form of saying hello, knowing that was all that was really needed.
On the way home, she stopped at Trouble's house. She had left him out of her confidence for too long, and she was sure that he would have some good ideas. Not to mention Trouble was a bit of a perfectionist, and if anyone at all could help her (other then Foaly), he could.
"…And then my whole plans, all my theories disappeared like that!" Holly snapped her fingers to emphasize. "And now I've got nothing to work with."
Trouble looked at her dubiously. "Have you gone to the scene of the crime yet?"
"Where?"
"You know… the bank."
"Oh. No. I assumed the police would've found everything worth finding."
"Ah, but they don't know what they're trying to find."
"And we do?"
He snorted. "The bank the LEP uses—used to use—is pretty far away. We'll have an idea by the time we get there."
But it wasn't that far. And they had no idea. All they had succeeded on was arguing. Good-naturedly, but still arguing.
Holly had adamantly refused to let anyone else in on what she called 'the Plan'. Trouble insisted his friends were geniuses, and could be of a great help. She maintained still that Foaly was smarter then all of his friends combined.
Not to mention it took a whopping ten minutes to get inside the actual bank. The robbery had doubled security, and Holly and Trouble found themselves searched. Actually searched, with weapon-detectors and everything.
"This is really, incredibly sad." Holly glanced back at the guards, as if to make sure they weren't watching. "They didn't even ask to see if we were members of this bank, which we aren't. I bet they're only doing this because the boss is insisting."
"Yeah, they aren't really doing a good job, are they?" Trouble replied. Back behind them, a guard fumbled around in one of someone's pockets, then let them go. Next to him, his fellow security lazily swung his weapon-detector over another. Over the head, also—like any weapons would be hidden there. Ha.
Holly walked over to a giant, half-patched up hole in the wall. It was surrounded by neon ropes, making sure nobody touched the still-fragile mess.
"So this is where the bad guy entered, eh?"
"Bad guys."
"What?"
Trouble shrugged. "Well, to me, it doesn't seem like whoever did this would've done this alone, right? This bank isn't one you can just waltz in and take whatever you want. My thoughts are that it's some kind of conspiracy."
Holly paused. She hadn't thought of that either. Drat. Moving on, she reached out, almost as if to touch the smooth, ovular part of the hole that wasn't mended. "Does this look like Neutrino to you?" she asked, though she already thought she knew the answer.
"Nope."
"Hmm. That's what I think." Another pause. "Ooh, I know this one. It's at the tip of my tongue…"
"Laser."
"That's the one. Pretty strong one, too."
"Yup." Holly finally turned around to see why Trouble was talking in monosyllables, then turned to see him looking through a rather large book of bank members.
"What are you doing?"
He tore himself away from the pages, rather embarrassed. "Nothing, it's, er, interesting."
Still feeling that this was not quite the absolute truth, she shrugged. "If you say so."
Then, finally, the security noticed them.
"Hey! What're you doing over there?"
END OF CHAPTER (checks) EIGHTEEN
I liked that chapter. Guess who knows how it (the whole story, I mean) ends! Mwahaha!
