The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (30 page)

“I have no idea,” she said, sounding as if she had wracked her brain but failed to come to any sort of explanation.

“Umm,” Landon started. “Do you think it can work both ways?”

“What do you mean?” Celia asked, concerned.

“It’s just that a few days ago in the cafeteria, I remember looking at Peregrine and having a thought like, ‘I wonder if I could pull off her hairstyle.’”

“Well, honestly, her hair is amazing, but not everyone can wear theirs like that,” Celia said with surprising enthusiasm. “You have to have the right bone structure to pull off short hair.”

“Thank God! I thought I was having a serious personal issue I’d have to come to terms with later.”

Landon and Celia caught each other’s eyes, and after a second, they both chuckled.

The rest of the day Celia and Landon were inseparable. They spent a good chunk of the morning in the Library talking about their favorite books. Celia had a similar interest in literature, but she leaned more toward period romances like those of Jane Austen. They spent the afternoon out by the lake and in the woods. It was the best place to go while the faculty hosted guided tours of the Gymnasium for the visiting parents. For dinner, they managed to sneak into the kitchen and steal a tray of lasagna and a pie that had been prepared for the evening’s holiday feast. Landon had a blast navigating the Gymnasium with the intent of remaining unseen by parents, staff or students. He thought it would be fun to show off what he’d learned in stealth training, but to his surprise, Celia seemed to have a knack for getting around unnoticed. She could move from pillar to pillar and corridor to corridor without ever making a sound. It was quite impressive.

• • • • •

As the months lumbered on after Christmas, Celia proved to be a saving grace. He hadn’t realized it before, but Celia was the only person, apart from Brock, who Riley was intimidated by, even if for completely different reasons. If they were around Celia, Riley avoided asking prying questions and barely spoke at all. He talked up a big game when it was just with the guys, but when Celia was around, she made him speechless.

“He just feels left out,” Celia told Landon one day as they left the cafeteria to go to Thought Reception.

“I know, but there isn’t anything I can do about it,” Landon replied.

“They would understand if you told him.”

This wasn’t the first time Celia had spoken like she knew all about the Pantheon. Landon never directly talked about it, but he was afraid through their strange connection he had accidentally told her everything.

Every time they were in the same room, he became more conscious of his thoughts. He didn’t want to think of something embarrassing that she could hold against him. However, in a way, it was nice to have someone with whom there were no secrets—at least on his end.

Landon noticed two guys from their Telekinetics training class run by.
The food’s not going anywhere
, he thought as the guys sped toward the cafeteria. Landon looked over at Celia, perplexed; she had a similar expression on her face. Then, Austin Thompson, an African-American guy his age that shared the same Tactometry class, turned the corner and sprinted toward them. Landon moved into his path, which caused Austin to slow down. He shuffled around, working to get past Landon and Celia and back to his journey toward his destination.

“What’s going on?” Landon asked as Austin passed.

Austin answered between breaths, “There’s a fight . . . in the cafeteria . . . Riley is fi . . .”

But Austin had moved too far down the hall for Landon or Celia to hear anything else. Without hesitating, or even consulting Celia, Landon sped behind Austin, making his way toward the cafeteria. Celia followed suit.

When they reached the cafeteria, they had to force themselves through a crowd of students that had gathered around a growing commotion. All the spectators were cheering and goading on the fight. What Landon found when he had edged his way through was Riley on top of Jeremiah Crane, pinning him to the ground. Joshua Crane sped across the cafeteria and pulled Riley off his twin brother, throwing him backward onto the floor. Jeremiah quickly got to his feet as Joshua lifted Riley and held him in a full nelson. Landon couldn’t do anything but watch as Jeremiah planted his fist into Riley’s abdomen. Riley dropped to the floor and fought to catch his breath, all the air in his lungs had been violently forced out. All the while, Landon could hear Katie Leigh’s screams as she tried to stop the fighting.

“Castor! Pollux! Stop!” Landon yelled as he broke through the crowd of students and rushed to the aid of his helpless friend. He made his way toward Jeremiah, who appeared to be preparing to kick Riley in the side while he was down. He shoved him back with a push to the chest, all the while screaming, “Castor, stop! Leave him alone!” Landon then turned to get Joshua in check, but was stopped by a fist. Riley had gotten to his feet and blindly threw a punch that connected square with Landon’s right temple. Everything went black.

• • • • •

When Landon woke up, he was lying in a bed in the medical wing. Riley was crouched over in a chair with an ice pack on his hand, and a nurse was writing things on Landon’s chart. Suddenly, Landon realized what had happened, and he couldn’t believe he’d landed himself in the medical wing from one errant punch. Even his first sparring match before Christmas wasn’t as embarrassing as this.

When Riley noticed that Landon had opened his eyes, he hesitantly stood up and walked over to the bed, but he didn’t say anything. The nurse finished her examination. After sliding Landon’s chart into its holder, she turned to Landon and gave him her assessment.

“Landon Wicker,” the nurse said, “you appear to be fine, but we’re going to request that you remain overnight for observation. When you were knocked unconscious”—she gave Riley an accusatory glance—“you hit your head pretty hard on the floor. We need to make sure you didn’t suffer a concussion or any other possible injuries.”

Landon nodded in understanding. The nurse, after giving Landon a gentle pat on the shoulder, left the room through the open door.

“My bad, man,” Riley said as he gave Landon a brotherly shove with his arm.

“I was trying to help you, you know?” Landon returned derisively. He wanted to just say he understood and that everything was all right between them, but after the past few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Landon was more than a little aggravated that he had ended up in the medical wing not from his training, or from the Cranes, but due a rogue punch from the person he was trying to help. The pain that was pulsing from the impact point on the side of his head only made him less forgiving.

“I didn’t mean to. The twins, they knocked my tray out of my hands when I was walking by, and I just snapped. And when I hit you, uh, I wasn’t even looking. I just kind of swung with everything I had.”

“Well, you really should look where you’re punching next time. Seriously!” Landon snapped back. “And why would the Cranes be messing with you?”

Riley was taken aback, but his shock turned to contempt.

“Cuz I’m not
you
! . . . And you know what? Don’t worry about me!” he barked. “Next time, don’t come butting into my business. Just stay out of it! Stick to your
oh-so-secret
techniques at your
oh-so-special
training and I’ll just stay as I am! You know, you’re not as special as you think you are Landon. I’m done! Got it?”

“There it is!” Landon was exasperated and sat up in his medical bed. “It
always
comes back to the training! Whatever happens, you just can’t let it go!”

“Oh,” Riley interrupted, “I’ve let it go! You know what? . . . I’m
not
sorry I hit you. You deserved it!” His face red with anger, Riley turned on the spot and stormed out of the examination room.

“You know,
maybe
if you weren’t such a whiny little baby, they would’ve wanted you too!” Landon yelled as Riley disappeared through the door.

Landon fell back onto his pillows with a huff. He was so mad that he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Trying to lower his blood pressure and calm down, he closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. He was surprised he had gotten so worked up. After the blood left his face and returned to a normal color, Dr. Brighton entered the room looking angry. His brows were furrowed and his lips pursed, and after shutting the door behind him, he immediately crossed his arms over his puffed up chest.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asked.

Landon suddenly became aware of himself. A glob of spit formed in his mouth that he couldn’t seem to swallow, his arms and legs tingled, and a faint buzzing started to ring in his ear.
No I don’t
, he thought.

Not knowing what to say, he blurted out, “They say I’ll be all right, in case you were wondering.”

“You insolent child,” Dr. Brighton said as he rushed to the bed and leaned over Landon, his arms pressed deep into the mattress to hold himself up while he got close to Landon’s face. “You could have exposed us all,” Dr. Brighton said in a low yet forceful volume, so no one would overhear. He was enraged. The muscles in his face were all tense, and his eyes were locked on Landon’s, boring deep into his soul.

“What are you talking about?” Landon asked as he tried to sink deeper into his pillows and put a little distance between Dr. Brighton and himself.

“The code names are to only be used during missions and under the security of the Olympic Tower. What were you thinking calling the Cranes Castor and Pollux in the cafeteria, especially when the entire student body was in attendance?”

At the time, Landon hadn’t even realized it, but as Dr. Brighton told him what he had done, his mind wandered back to the memory of being in the cafeteria and screaming for Joshua and Jeremiah to stop, using their Pantheon code names as he pushed the two off Riley.

“I knew you weren’t ready,” Dr. Brighton said as he pushed himself off the bed and paced the room. “I told them it was a mistake.”

“Dr. Brighton, I’m sorry,” Landon pleaded. He felt awful, but Dr. Brighton didn’t acknowledge him. He continued to pace the room with his hand resting on his chin, deep in thought. Landon assumed he was deciding his fate. Was it that easy to kick someone off the Pantheon? What would happen after? Did they have a strange contraption that could wipe his memory of any knowledge of the secret team?

“Professor,” Landon interjected forcefully. It worked, albeit not exactly as planned for when Dr. Brighton turned and faced him, his expression made it clear he was in no mood for games and that his patience was waning—fast. Landon fought to continue, “I, uh . . .” Landon suddenly felt dizzy and nauseated. The ringing in his ears had grown to a painful volume. “I, uh . . .” 

“What is it Landon?” Dr. Brighton asked. “Spit it out.”

“I . . .”

Before Landon could continue, his vision went blurry, his body went limp, and he passed out.

A minute later, Landon regained consciousness. It took him a moment to acclimate to his surroundings; he felt a bit groggy and confused. Looking particularly concerned, Dr. Brighton stood over Landon, checking his eyes and asking him simple questions, like
What’s your name?
and
What year is it?
Then the nurse sped back into his room.

“Landon,” she said as she pushed Dr. Brighton aside and began unlocking the wheels to the bed, “I’m taking you to get a CT scan. It appears you may have some internal brain injuries.”

He watched blearily as the nurse gripped the bed and moved it down the hall. It was a strange experience; he watched the roof and walls as they flew by, but the nurse’s torso and head remained stationary, as if she was a statue. Her legs would have told a different story entirely, but before Landon could even process what was happening, he was in the computed tomography scanner at the east end of the medical wing.

“It would seem that you’ve suffered a concussion with a minor amount of bruising that has caused your brain to swell slightly,” Dr. Márquez stated matter-of-factly after turning away from the series of images of Landon’s brain that were secured in the light box fixed to the back wall. “Unfortunately for you, we’re not going to be able to discharge you until we see the swelling go down.”

Dr. Márquez turned, glancing at Dr. Brighton, who was standing a few paces back from the bed, and continued, “Dr. Brighton tells me that you two were having a pretty intense conversation when you fell unconscious. I’m afraid that may have increased your blood pressure enough to cause you to pass out. As a result, I’m going to recommend that you have no visitors until you’ve recovered. Until I can feel confident that you’ve improved, all I can ask of you is to rest.”

“But—” Landon started, but he stopped mid-rebuttal after looking at Dr. Brighton, whose face informed him there was no way he would be able to persuade the doctor of a different treatment. Defeated, Landon closed his mouth and fell dejectedly back onto his pillow.

As Dr. Márquez and the nurse left the room, Dr. Brighton stepped over to the bed and rested his hand onto Landon’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I’m your CO; I should’ve controlled my temper.” He gave Landon’s shoulder a little pat and headed out of the room, but just before he reached the door, he turned and added, “Get better . . . Apollo”

The room was uncomfortably silent. Landon tended to like being alone, but for some reason, his forced seclusion in the medical wing was different. He felt constricted under the sheets of his bed, fidgety and bored. His head did still hurt a bit though, and he felt a little drowsy, so he turned on his side and closed his eyes, hoping he might be able to sleep through the majority of his medical imprisonment.