The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,53

over three weeks tirelessly thinking about what the thief was trying to tell him that night and trying to learn who she was. Recently though, he’d run out of plausible ideas and came to the conclusion that she must have just been trying to distract him, or make him question the Gymnasium—the one place that’d helped him figure himself out. But the sessions with Dr. Brighton were the one time when his brain would shut down and his questions would disappear.

In their sessions, Dr. Brighton quickly stopped performing the motions alongside Landon, but instead sat on a large stone beside the creek and gave minor critiques to Landon’s stance and posture. Landon immediately would try and adjust, and soon the critiques became minute—a simple alteration to the hold of his wrist or the turning in of his foot.

Landon quickly came to master the motions he’d been taught. He was gifted, so he naturally caught on and learned things, but this was different. He was trying to impress his teacher, trying to improve himself—for once in his life, he was actually trying.

By the beginning of November, Dr. Brighton added new exercises: plyometrics and strength training to build his agility and physicality; cardio for endurance; and specialized exercises to develop Landon’s telekinetic finesse. Landon was loving it; he looked forward to his morning sessions with his professor more so than any other activity at the Gymnasium.

“Could you be any more cryptic?” Riley asked. “Come on. . . . What’s his secret? I could use whatever he’s teaching you.”

“I’m not trying to be to be cryptic. I’m just doing what I’m told for once in my life, and I don’t think there is a secret.”

“I hate you,” Riley said as he filed away a book he thought was about their assignment, but was actually a misplaced book on food storage. “Come on! Give me something! I’ve never had a private session with a teacher.”

“I’m sorry, man. I’ve got nothing.”

Landon never spoke a word about Dr. Brighton’s Secret Garden or what happened during their training there. Telling people about their sessions seemed like he was breaking the trust he and Dr. Brighton had developed. Saturday training was an experience Landon and his teacher shared. There was no reason to tell anyone else about it.

On top of it, Landon had grown closer and closer to his instructor. Dr. Brighton was a mentor to him; he seemed like an older, more experienced version of himself—a glimpse of what Landon imagined he would become after quite a few more years. Their walks to and from the garden became a time to bond. They would discuss literature and their childhoods. Granted, Landon’s was much more recent than Dr. Brighton’s, but no matter what, the doctor seemed to have a story that made Landon feel connected to him, as if they were the same person. They both grew up being close to their mothers and both shared a maternal force pressuring them to try a plethora of sports and activities. It almost seemed like Dr. Brighton had attempted more things in his life than was humanly possible.

As an adult, the professor was a learned man. He had studied literature, science and mathematics his entire life and decided to use that knowledge to help guide those like him at the Gymnasium. Landon realized he might like to pursue the same selfless endeavor, should he have the courage to do so once he’d completed his training. However, even with their growing friendship, Dr. Brighton was a ruthless trainer. He pushed Landon far beyond his comfort zone, forcing him to improve and progress. It was what Landon needed, and he knew and accepted it.

“Ugh, what on earth could he be teaching you?” Riley sparked up the discussion again after they’d perused another shelf of books.

“Does it really matter? It’s working, isn’t it?”

“True. But—”

“Riley, I haven’t hit you with anything for weeks.” Landon leaned over and looked at Riley with a knowing expression. Humorously, he added, “Now, that’s progress.”

“I guess you’re right. So you should be done with them pretty soon, right?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I still have quite a long ways to go. And to be honest, I don’t know if I want them to end.”

Landon’s improvement was astounding. Once he managed to tap into his abilities, he could move and control items with ease. But even with his achievements, Landon still required a severe level of concentration to do anything that related to his gifts. That was the one