The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,54
part of his training Dr. Brighton hadn’t had an ounce of success in fixing, and the more strenuous the request, the harder time Landon had accessing his gifts. Dr. Brighton insisted that Landon had the strength within to easily perform the tasks put forth, but that it was just his mental blocks he couldn’t get past. He couldn’t develop Landon’s powers to become instinctual, as they were meant to be, rather than something to be turned on or off, like a light switch.
“What? Not want them to end?” Riley asked, shocked. “You get up at six o’clock . . . on Saturday! And you don’t come back until an hour or two before dinner. Then you basically sleep all Sunday. . . . Your whole weekend is shot. I don’t think I could do that forever.”
“To each his own, right?” Landon replied as he pulled a book off the shelf on Ronald Reagan and his role in the arms race during the Cold War. “It’s—”
Suddenly, a high-pitched, piercing scream echoed through the Library and interrupted Landon mid-sentence. Screaming wasn’t typical in the Gymnasium. Their abilities allowed them to sense pranks and attacks—serious or otherwise—before screams would be heard. This scream was blood curdling, and they recognized the voice—it was Katie Leigh’s.
Without a word between them, Landon and Riley dropped the books in their hands, bolted from the History section of the Library, and headed toward the voice. It was hard to pinpoint where exactly she was because of the Library’s labyrinthine halls, but they soon emerged from behind a shelf to find Katie Leigh floating two feet off the ground, pressed against a bookcase, tears streaming down her face. They could hear laughter coming from a group of people, but they remained just out of sight.
As Landon and Riley approached, the source of the laughter emerged; the Crane twins were both hunched over, laughing like hyenas, and standing silently between them, with his hand outstretched, was Brock Holbrooke.
Even as roommates, Brock and Landon barely spoke to each other. They didn’t have much in common. Brock was a man of privilege. Raised in Connecticut by a well-to-do family, he was never for want of anything. His apocratusis occurred during a lacrosse game in which he was the team captain. He was then brought to the Gymnasium after someone from the facility visited his family at their estate. True to form, since his arrival he’d risen swiftly to be the premiere student, excelling in all facets of his training, particularly Telekinetics. Landon was none of those things, and he only knew these facts about Brock through other students. He was a living legend in the eyes of most—someone to fear or revere.
That aside, Landon found himself wondering about Brock’s whereabouts more often than he’d care to confess. Much like his first night in the dormitories, Landon would return to his room in the early hours of the morning to find Brock missing. Sometimes he would be missing for days on end leaving Landon with no clue as to where he’d gone or when he’d return. Many times Landon thought about asking him about it, only to dispel the idea, realizing they weren’t close enough to warrant such a personal question.
“Let her go!” Riley yelled.
Brock turned his head to the pair of them, glaring menacingly. Riley stopped in his tracks and took a slow, audible gulp, regretting his initial outburst.
“And why should I do that?” Brock asked, mockingly. “She offended me. She needs to learn a lesson on when it’s appropriate to speak to her superior.”
The Crane twins stopped laughing for a second and stared at one another. This peculiar exchange between the twins must have been what Riley was talking about after Landon’s orientation. Then, moments later, they erupted in another outburst of laughter.
“What could she have done to you?” Landon asked, dumbfounded by Brock’s air of superiority. Landon couldn’t stand to see someone act with such a level of elitism. He’d experienced it in high school during his freshmen year, and he couldn’t believe that a teenager could consider themselves so above their peers. “She’s twelve, and what could she have said?”
“I don’t answer to you, roomie,” Brock returned. “So mind your own business.”
“Yeah, mind your own business,” the twins echoed in unison.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.” Landon’s reply was stern and confident, and a bit unsuspected by everyone in the room. “Katie Leigh’s our friend, and until you let her go, we aren’t leaving. Right, Riley?”