The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,69
that, the outer tables were pitted against the inner ones, meaning 1 and 4 versus 2 and 3. Riley, surprisingly, has come to the same conclusion I have. If probability would have it, and Dr. Wells continues on his current pattern, this year should be Tables 1 and 3 versus 2 and 4. If that happens, we may finally be on the winning side. We may not be their favorite people, but Brock and his crew always win, and they also always sit at Table 4.”
Riley jumped in. “Normally, the game happens a bit later, right before Christmas or sometimes even in January if we haven’t had enough snow. For some reason, the snow never stays on the ground very long in this place, but because of the blizzard that’s been raging outside all day, everyone’s talking about how it might happen early this year.
“Typically, Dr. Wells has to call an assembly to get everyone in one place to put together the teams, but with the amount of snow that’s come down today, Thanksgiving dinner is a perfect alternative. It’s one of the few times where everyone would naturally be together at one time. Exciting, right?”
Katie Leigh then looked over at Celia sitting beside her, and Landon realized why she’d been dragged to sit with them for the dinner. Katie Leigh was gathering recruits for her First Frost Frenzy team. Celia was a smart choice.
For the next half hour, Landon noticed how confident everyone was that the announcement would be made during the feast. He saw how anxious some people were at selecting the right table. Some even got up and moved back and forth between seats multiple times until finally settling down. Landon could tell by the looks on their faces that they were still unsure if they’d made the right decision. Others seemed to use a more simple approach; they’d scour the room for someone they wanted to have on their team and rush to get seats at the same table.
“There’s only been one time, that we know of, where Dr. Wells put the people sitting on the left side of the tables against the right,” Katie Leigh said. “So sitting with those you want on your team is generally a safe bet.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you all pick Table 4?” Celia asked. “If you want to be on Brock’s team so bad, wouldn’t that be the smartest thing to do?”
“Oh no,” Katie Leigh replied with a chuckle. “Riley and I have both had a few less than desirable interactions with Brock and his people, so if we were seen sitting at his table when anticipating the announcement of the First Frost Frenzy, it would be obvious to everyone that we were desperate to be on the winning team. This way we’re playing on trend and plausible deniability. No one knows how Dr. Wells is going to make up the teams. Right now it’s all theories and conjecture. But if we happen to be placed on the same team as Brock and his posse, we can play dumb to ever expecting it.”
“You’ve really thought this through,” Celia replied.
“Yeah, and let’s just hope it works,” Riley returned.
At exactly four o’clock the doors to the kitchens were opened, and a parade of chefs emerged carrying dish after dish of food. Within minutes, every ounce of free space on the table was covered by trays of turkey, casseroles, green beans, freshly baked dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, yams, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and boat after boat of gravy. It smelled amazing, but before digging into the feast, everyone waited until the professors, tutors and scientists had taken their seats at the head table.
Landon was surprised to see Sofia Petrovanya come through the door. Just days earlier she’d made it sound like she was leaving to continue her search for other psychokinetics. She found her seat beside Dr. Brighton. Dr. Wells, who Landon hadn’t seen since his orientation, was on the other side of Dr. Brighton and sat at the center of the table. Professor Tzu sat next to Dr. Wells and was laughing hysterically with Professor Clemens, who headed Thought Reception training. Sitting toward the end were a lot of people dressed in lab coats. Among them Landon recognized Dr. Dodgson, Dr. Márquez and Dr. Longfellow. Apart from them and his professors, the rest of the people sitting at the head table were unknown to him.
Once everyone was seated, Dr. Wells belted out unceremoniously, “Please, everyone, eat!”