The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,78

he was being praised or insulted.

“No, seriously, you were awesome.”

Landon continued to look at him strangely. He was having issues understanding Cortland’s intentions. Was he mocking him, as many others had in the past two days, or was he being genuine? By his demeanor and tone, Landon thought it was the latter. In the few seconds of knowing him, Landon felt like Cortland was just one of those naturally nice people with whom you couldn’t help but want to be friends.

“Anyways,” Cortland continued, “I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me for breakfast. I know we haven’t even spoken to each other before, but I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing a lot more of you after your meeting, so I wanted to try and get to know you better. What do you say?”

“What meeting?” Landon asked, confounded as to what Cortland was referring. “And I don’t know if sitting with you, Brock and the Cranes would be such a good idea.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I was supposed to tell you about that,” Cortland replied. “And I’m eating alone. As his roommate, I’m sure you know. Brock’s not the biggest morning person, and the twins aren’t much better.” Cortland paused for a moment, turned and craned his neck, searching the cafeteria for something. “And it looks like Riley and Katie Leigh aren’t here this morning either, so you’d be eating alone too.”

“They normally get here a few minutes after me,” Landon quickly returned. He didn’t like being so predictable. He also couldn’t think of any excuse that would get him out of the situation, and Cortland’s insistence was making him feel an odd sense of acceptance, like being picked first for the kickball team at recess. “Lead the way, Virgil,” he said.

“What?”

“Sorry. Just something I always said to my mom.”

“No, I think I get it. Dante’s Inferno, right? Virgil was the guide. Just took me a second.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Landon replied.

Cortland asked Landon all the usual questions one asks when first meeting someone, but he did it in a way that was easy. That usual awkwardness that comes with Where are you from? How old are you? and What’s your favorite color? seemed nonexistent. It was comfortable, like speaking with a best friend he’d grown up with. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long. About fifteen minutes into it, someone came and tapped Landon on the shoulder.

“Landon.”

Landon turned and was surprised to find Professor Clemens standing over him. Landon and Cortland stood up.

“Dr. Brighton would like to see you in his office.”

“Now? I have Tactometry with Professor Tzu in less than a half hour.” Landon turned to Cortland, hoping he might help him understand what was going on, but he just looked at him with an excited smile on his face.

“You have been cleared of all training for the day,” Professor Clemens replied in an professional, disconnected manner. “Dr. Brighton is in his office on the fifth floor, 568, between the Student and Administrative Towers. He’s waiting for you.”

“Go on,” Cortland urged. It was obvious to Landon that he knew what Dr. Brighton wanted to speak with him about, but he wasn’t giving him any hints.

Landon headed straight for Dr. Brighton’s office. As he left the cafeteria, he tried to avoid the watchful faces of the students who’d just witnessed his cryptic conversation with Professor Clemens. While taking the stairs, his mind reeled with theories about the imminent meeting. Something in his gut told him it wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, but Cortland seemed excited, so perhaps it was something good. However, that morning was the first time he’d ever spoken to Cortland and he did hang out with Brock, so Cortland might have been just as excited for something bad happening to him, like being expelled. But if Landon was about to be kicked out of the Gymnasium, why did Cortland show a sudden interest in getting to know him? Nothing made sense, so the quicker he got to Dr. Brighton’s office the sooner he’d have answers.

Upon turning into the fifth floor hallway, he found Dr. Brighton leaning against the wall outside his office with his arms crossed, waiting. Dr. Brighton glared at Landon strangely and ushered him into his office without even a word of welcome.

Somehow the office felt more congested than before, as if Dr. Brighton’s papers and books were viral and quickly growing into an epidemic. Landon lowered himself into the stiff chair across from the desk; he could feel a