The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (25 page)

Landon might have been knocked out first, but throughout the last minutes of their battle, he’d sent every snowball he deflected to a place about ten feet above Brock’s stationary body—a trick he’d learned from Celia that day in the lake. With each new addition, the snowball grew and grew. Eventually, the weight of it was too much for Landon to hold while keeping up with Brock’s speedy projectiles and suppressing the full strength of his abilities, so when Landon was eliminated, he released the ball. A smile stretched across his face; if Brock had moved, the plan would have failed.

Joining the rest of the eliminated members of the blue team on a bench next to the faculty bleachers, Landon moved off the field, satisfied with what he’d accomplished. He hoped with Brock and the twins eliminated that Katie Leigh, Riley or one of the other two remaining members of his team would have a chance at pulling out a victory, but over the next five minutes, each one of them was knocked out of the game. The students had been nervous about Brock, Parker and the Crane twins, but for some reason, everyone forgot about Cortland Cartwright. He easily cleaned up the field once it was down to the final few. After all of that, the blue team lost again for the third year in a row.

THE OLYMPIC TOWER

“How are you doing, Landon?”

Landon turned from the food services line; he didn’t recognize the voice, and he wasn’t sure why someone would stop him while he was getting his breakfast. Since the First Frost Frenzy ended a few days ago, Landon had received a confusing mix of praise, snubbing and contempt from his fellow students. His actions during the match, particularly with regard to Brock and the Crane twins, had placed him in a precarious position with the student body. Everyone had to now choose whether to support his challenging the most powerful students in the Gymnasium, to condemn him for embarrassing those same students, or to avoid Landon altogether, figuring that it would all blow over and things would return to normal.

To Landon, the First Frost Frenzy was just a game, and he was doing all he could to win. There was nothing more to it. A part of him wanted to make Brock, Jeremiah and Joshua understand that they couldn’t push him around like they did other students, but Landon never expected his performance in the game to stir such strong emotions within every student at the Gymnasium. He now understood that by eliminating the trio, he’d drawn the proverbial line in the sand and challenged the alpha male.

Landon was shocked to realize Cortland Cartwright was the one speaking to him. Landon had never met nor spoken to Cortland in the four months he’d been at the Gymnasium. They didn’t share a single training session together and were rarely ever in the same place at the same time. The only times Landon could remember even seeing him were in the cafeteria, but Cortland sat with Brock . . . so they’d never been introduced.

“Umm,” Cortland said after an excruciating period of silence. Landon had turned and was looking at him, but he hadn’t said a word. “I just wanted to tell you that you were awesome out there last Saturday. I don’t think anyone expected you to be capable of that.”

“Thanks . . . I think,” Landon replied. It took him a second to form the words in his brain. He couldn’t figure out if 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 layer of sweat covering his body. His hands were clammy, and it was hard for him to catch his breath. It felt like someone was standing on his chest. As Dr. Brighton greeted him with a stiff demeanor and a serious scowl, Landon could sense a level of detachment between his favorite professor and himself. It was worrisome, and his nerves were getting to him.

Dr. Brighton shut the door and took a seat behind his desk.

“Landon, I have a question for you. What did you think our private sessions were about?”

“Helping me with my abilities,” Landon answered, almost as a question. He wasn’t getting a good feeling about this meeting. He was second-guessing everything, worrying that at any moment he’d be expelled from the one place that could help him. He had just started to feel like he was making progress.

“At the most basic level . . . yes,” Dr. Brighton replied coldly. “The sessions were intended to help you with your abilities, but there was more to them than that.”

“What do you mean?” a confused Landon asked.

Dr. Brighton clasped his hands together, set his arms on his desktop and leaned forward in his seat. He looked at Landon with a serious scowl.

“When we found you, we discovered that you had an uncharted amount of raw power. There hasn’t been a student before you with such potential. As such, we expected you to progress quickly . . . but that wasn’t the case. You proved to be one of the least adept students we’ve ever brought to the Gymnasium.”

“But I’ve been getting better,” Landon interrupted. He couldn’t help but try and defend himself. Dr. Brighton was speaking to him in a strange tone of voice. It was distant and formal, much like how Professor Clemens had spoken to him in the cafeteria. Landon had grown used to a more informal, quirky rapport with his professor. This was strange and foreign, but Dr. Brighton appeared to be having difficulty keeping up the façade. He was struggling to keep his emotions in check, but what scared Landon most was the emotion Dr. Brighton seemed to be fighting back. What Landon read on Dr. Brighton’s face was disappointment.

“What we failed to take into account was that when you arrived here, you weren’t just a massive source of untapped talent—you were broken. Something was halting your progress, and you only seemed to be able to use your abilities when you were angry or frustrated. Your powers were fundamentally linked to your emotions. I thought if I worked with you one on one, figured out what was holding you back, you might be rehabilitated into the exceptional student we all expected you to be.

“Initially, the sessions appeared to be working. You were improving and gaining control, but you were still far behind the other students. As I told you during our first session, your abilities are supposed to be instinctual, but you still had to concentrate and actively engage your abilities to use them. It was a serious issue. Drastic measures had to be taken.”

“Our last session,” Landon accidentally said aloud. His body trembled as he watched Dr. Brighton’s lip form every word. Why was Dr. Brighton telling him all this?

“Yes, our last session,” Dr. Brighton confirmed. “With every week that went by, you improved . . . some . . . but with every session, I slowly realized something. It wasn’t through our lessons, but through our conversations that I saw it. You would start to tell me stories from your past, stories about your mother, but just as you would start, you’d fall silent. You’d change the subject, even though I knew what had happened. I’ve experienced it, too. It’s the moment you realize you’ve lost something . . . forever.”

Landon’s mouth went dry and a lump formed in his throat. He fought to maintain his composure, but water welled up in his eyes. His world was crashing in around him, and he had no way of stopping it.

“I don’t think anyone had the faintest idea how much you were affected by your apocratusis. In hindsight, it seems obvious. Everyone’s apocratusis is tied to a moment of increased emotion, but few are as violent and tragic as yours. It makes sense that an event like that would block you off. Anger and frustration were strong enough feelings to break through the barriers your pain and guilt had built around your abilities. You needed closure, a chance to confront those feelings and free yourself of those barriers.”

“Can you just get it over with,” Landon interrupted, forcefully. He couldn’t handle it any longer. “If you’re going to expel me, just do it already.”

“Oh, we’re not expelling you,” Dr. Brighton dismissively returned. “We’re here to help you. Expulsion is counterproductive.”

“What is it then?”

“I’ve been asked to make you an offer”—Landon cocked his head to the side in confusion—“but before I ask you, I need you to understand something. What we’re getting ready to discuss is extremely confidential, meaning you cannot disclose it to anyone.”

Landon nodded.
What is going on?
he thought.
What’s happening?

“This is very important, Landon. It’s imperative that you say nothing about what I’m about to tell you,” he reiterated.

“I understand,” Landon affirmed.

“We will hold you to that promise.” Dr. Brighton took a poignant pause before continuing. “While still training at the Gymnasium, select students are recruited to become members of an elite tactical team. They are tasked to carry out covert missions around the world, to collect information and eliminate threats to the safety of the United States. They’re called the Pantheon. On any occasion, they’re asked to use their gifts and risk their lives to do what’s necessary to keep the country safe, and we’d like you to join the team.”

Landon was speechless, but his mind was reeling.
What? The Pantheon? How could there be a team of spies working out of the Gymnasium? How did I not see this coming? What else don’t I know about?
And they want me to join up?

Landon looked down at his lap, weighing the decision in his mind. He could hear his last promise to his mother—
I’m going to make this right. I will make you proud.
Was this his chance to hold true to that promise? Landon also felt a pang of selfish motivation rise from the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but assume that by joining up he’d be given more access, which could lead to finding out the answers that had been looming in his mind since he’d come to the Gymnasium.

“I’ll do it,” he replied. “I’ll join the Pantheon.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Dr. Brighton didn’t seem excited.

Landon feigned a smile. It was all he could think to do as he was unsure how to react, especially since Dr. Brighton still maintained his detached demeanor.

Dr. Brighton stood up out of his chair. Landon followed suit, jumping to his feet.

“Please come with me. We have somewhere to be,” Dr. Brighton said as he extended his arm toward the door.

Landon moved toward the exit with caution. Where did they have to be? Judging by Dr. Brighton’s stern demeanor, he wasn’t sure it was somewhere he wanted to go, but he knew he no longer had a choice. He joined Dr. Brighton at the door and followed behind him down the hallway.