Day Ten: Silver (3rd of August) (Hypothetically)

“I can get her. Easy.”

“I dare you, Beck. She’s easily about thirty-five. I don’t think she’d want to get it on with an inexperienced man.”

“Inexperienced? Clearly we haven’t met.”

“The pair of you disgust me.”

Emily and the twins were seated in a veiled area that provided the perfect outlook of the entire ballroom, giving them a clear view of every guest in the gathering (those ranging from prosperous socialites to awkward family cousins who gawked at everything and everyone). Angeline Fowl insisted that Myles should include his idiotic relatives in the guest list, and so he was forced to count even the dim witted in the celebration (Myles complained about how his mother babied him about every little step, but one look from his mother compelled him to do whatever she pleased, the alternative, of course, being much worse).

The trio spent their evening commenting on all the celebrators (Myles assumed all of them didn’t know what on earth they were doing here in the first place, but hey, there was free wine, so no one complained). They’ve been going at it for at least three hours now, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves (however, Myles thought the way they passed the time was utterly and completely ridiculous, but Emily was speaking to him as an equal human being, so he wasn’t going to complain).

Snorting into her glass, Emily shook hands with the younger twin. “Sleep with her and you’re my hero,” she said, grinning. Myles rolled his eyes, and sighed out of boredom. “Stop encouraging the boy, Emily, his head is about to burst by the looks of it,” he drawled, taking a sip of fresh pineapple juice. 

“Boy?” snorted Beckett, raising his glass of rum mockingly at Myles’ face. “You’re the one drinking juice!”

“My apologize. I never thought of liquidized fruit as a sign of being childish. I’ll make sure to add this piece of information in my diary as soon as I go to bed.”

Emily laughed, shaking her head at Beckett, who scowled. “Sonny got owned!” she sniggered, wagging a finger at him. Myles smirked, pleased with himself, and relaxed in his chair. “Sonny got owned indeed.”

Beckett rolled his eyes and stood up, straightening his crooked tie. “Both of you are unsupportive and I don’t like it,” he announced, pulling a face Myles assumed was melancholy. Emily glanced over to Myles, shaking her head slowly as if she were saying, ‘Get a load of this guy. Who does he think he is?’

He shrugged in response, allowing a small smile to stretch his usually glowering face. Emily was... confusing this night. At first she jeered at every little move he made, instantly snapping at him whenever he tried to make conversation. And when they dined with his family she argued against every statement he made, marking her as a hand full. But now she seemed to tolerate him just as she tolerated Beckett when they first met: taunting, yet somewhat amiable. Sarcastic, yet cautious and hesitant; she was being a friend.

“Well, I’m going to prove you lot wrong. Just wait till the girl gets a load of Beckett Fowl, charmer extraordinaire,” continued Beckett, eyeing the cluster of woman giggling by the marble fountain. Myles sighed extravagantly, getting up as well. “Alright, which one is she then?” he asked, already regretting the question. Now his brother was somehow going to pull him into this whole silly situation. Beckett’s mouth twisted into a confident smile. “That one, the one with the hoop earrings,” he replied, pointing at a woman with a red cocktail dress too tight for her own good. Myles rolled his eyes, bringing the glass of juice to his lips. “She’s a bit of a tramp, if I do say so myself.”

Beckett arched his eyebrows in surprise, and faced his brother. “That’s a bit harsh, even for you, Myles.”

Myles shrugged. “I’m stating a fact, Beckett. And the fact is she’s wearing a dress made for someone half her age.”

“She is not!”

“Is so.”

“Is not!”

“Is so.”

“Shut up the pair of you!” interjected Emily, coming in between them. She turned to Beckett, and whispered, “Go ahead and win her over. Send me the details in the morning, yeah?” Beckett hmphed, but nodded all the same, making his way towards the water fountain. Emily then turned to Myles, motioning him to pay attention at what she’s about to do. “Watch this,” she mumbled, grabbing her purse and heading Beckett’s way.

Myles arched an eyebrow. This was going to be interesting.

He could tell by the way the ladies fluttered their false eyelashes that they were captivated by his twin’s presence. The woman with the red dress whispered something into Beckett’s ear, and he threw his head back and laughed, draping an arm around her waist. Emily hid behind a pillar, and bought an index finger to her lips, signaling Myles to stay silent. He waved his hand, beckoning her to continue with what she planned. Emily smiled and gave him the thumbs up, smoothing out the creases on her dress.

“BECKETT!”

Beckett whipped his head, trying to root down the source of the shriek.

“BECKETT FOWL YOU ANSWER ME RIGHT THIS SECOND.”

The woman glued to Beckett’s side turned to Beckett, probably asking about the demented person shouting his name. His brother gave a breathy laugh, pulling her out of Emily’s direction.

“BECKETT YOUR MUM IS REALLY CROSS WITH YOU. SHE SAYS YOU DIDN’T FLUSH THE TOILET IN THE BATHROOM. IS THAT TRUE, BECKETT? DIDN’T YOU FLUSH THE TOILET IN THE BATHROOM?”

Beckett froze, and Myles could see from his stance that he was humiliated to the point of no return, but Emily didn’t stop there.

“BECKETT GO AND FLUSH THE TOILET IT’S STARTING TO SMELL REALLY AWFUL IN THERE.”

Myles tried to stifle his laugh, but it was useless. This girl was a genius, not in an intellectually gifted genius kind of way -cough cough-, but a genius all the same.

The woman untangled herself from his brother’s side, her expression twisting into what could only be mortification (really though, who would want to be seen with a boy who couldn’t flush?) and stomped off, leaving Beckett alone in the middle of the dance floor. Those around him laughed freely, and Beckett was forced to stuff his hands in his pockets and leave the dance floor, thoroughly disgruntled.

Emily ran to the balcony, and avoided his younger brother’s sight. Beckett stomped over to Myles, his face a peculiar shade of red. “Where is she,” he growled, murder in his eyes. Myles bit back a laugh. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” the normally stoic twin chuckled, his hand covering his stomach. Beckett took a deep breath, expelling the angry energy within him. “I’m going to kill her very slowly and very, very painfully,” he said quietly, cracking his knuckles. Myles smirked. “Not if she gets you first, brother.” Beckett harrumphed, and mumbled something about going to his room for a bit. Myles nodded in mock sympathy, waving goodbye to his deflated brother.

He put down the empty glass on the table and made his way towards the balcony, where Emily was surely hiding.

Perhaps an attempt at congratulating her was in order over her successful attempt at humiliating his brother. And maybe later he could take her to his very own library (it used to belong to his older brother, but with the infant coming along Artemis didn’t have any free time to spare, which explained Myles’ sudden dominance over the Fowl Library) and she could borrow a book or two if she pleased. Surely friends lent other friends books for fun?

Myles sighed irritably. This was very confusing, and he didn’t like it. How has Artemis kept himself from being attracted to other girls, he did not know. Not that he was attracted to Emily or anything.

I don’t like her that much, he reasoned, making sure nobody’s back was against the doorway (he didn’t want to have another accident now he did he?) and pushed the door open.

Yes you do, his hormonal side replied. She’s witty and she’s fun to observe. Not that you observe her, of course.  

Myles groaned inwardly. Really, he was going to have to sort out his brain soon. This was getting overwhelming.

He glanced left and right, trying to spot the bright white of her fabric and after a few seconds his eyes familiarized itself with the darkness and he found her. But something wasn’t exactly quite right in the picture; Emily was standing near (very, very near) a man in a navy tuxedo, his hand slinking boldly around her waist.

“He’s really actually quite pathetic when it comes to anything dealing with sports. Prefers to stay cooped up in class, but hey, the guy is free to do whatever, right?”

It took Myles a second to realize that they were talking about him. It took Myles another two seconds to realize that the person getting grabby with his guest was a former classmate of his, and then it took Myles another three seconds to realize that he openly despised all of his classmates, this one in particular, because even after school they still managed to irritate him to absolute no end...

Sixteen-year old Myles Fowl wasn’t exactly hiding; not really, he just didn’t want to be found. He discovered refugee in an old abandoned art room, which stank of stale paint and molding clay. He wanted to get away from his classmates at lunch break (their relentless teasing was getting a bit annoying, so why bother show up at all?)

He ate his apple in silence, and thought about his classmate, Farah Wesley, a girl in his IB biology class.

She smiled at me today, he thought to himself, people don’t normally smile at me at all, but she did. Even in class she didn’t snicker behind his back. The rest were just envious of his intellectual talents, obviously.

“Simpletons,” he muttered, closing his lunch container. Perhaps she is in the library? And she probably has questions about the curriculum. Her friends couldn’t answer her, because they were idiotic and shallow minded, but he could.

Myles nodded to himself, and got up, dusting his uniform. He picked up his laptop and empty capsule and was about to make his way towards the doors when he heard her giggle.

Myles froze and stared at the door. Was that Farah?

He then heard a primitive like grunt. “This place is empty, and you know what that means.”

Farah giggled again, and Myles’ head completely blanched.

“It’s locked, Grant. Let’s just go somewhere else.”

Of course it was Grant MacPeterson. It couldn’t have been anyone other than pea-brained MacPeterson. Grant stole his limited edition Texas Instrument and tossed it over his shoulder without even blinking. He shouted pathetic insults at him from a distance (Beckett never really left Myles’ side after kindergarten, and the younger twin was trained by Butler, after all, and so one could asume he'd take the extra protection) and he constantly vandalized his locker before Myles paint proofed it,  adding his very own security system that responded to his and only his sound patterns).

And so it was Grant who looted whatever attention Farah had for Myles and squeezed it out of her system.

Myles pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to calm down. So mother did sneak him in the guest list after all. He wasn’t going to speak her to her in a very long time.

The emotion that swept him that evening was a new one. It was strange, and because of it he did what he was about to do. It felt like he was underwater: he could see, but everything was blurry and vague, and he could barely feel his own legs move forward.

That pig actually had the nerve to bury his face in her neck, and Emily let out a startled cry.

She’s probably enjoying it, he thought numbly, edging nearer to them.

Myles watched his own hand reach out and push a certain muscle in Grant’s bulging neck. His whole body collapsed, and he descended on the floor with a heavy thud.

Emily’s hands flew to her mouth, and she stared wide-eyed at Myles.

“Pressure point,” he heard himself say, before slowly turning around and making his way out of the balcony. Thought after thought whirled around his head perpetually, and just for once he wished his brain was empty.

***

That night was a night painted a startling black, with only a handful of stars to decorate it. Each twinkled brilliantly, wanting to capture your attention, waiting to be gazed at with awe and wonder. Everyone in the ballroom abandoned the string quartet playing beautifully inside and clutched at their 

dates, escorting them outside to see the magnificence that is the sky...

... Everyone- that is to say- everyone except one miserable Myles Fowl.

It started out perfectly. Everything was in place- as was planned. Myles effortlessly dodged elementary blunders, made sure of the banquet once, twice, three times (and was assured that every spoonful was swallowed), and every seat on every table for the night was secured and happily occupied.

His father was impressed (as was his older brother, Artemis), and really, nothing did go wrong. Absolutely nothing. The party was a huge success, they claimed, and everyone had a good time.

But not everyone did, and that was that.

Because Myles met Emily Leila Faucet, and she was the end of all things simple. 


- left-foot-fowl
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Finally. The story is finally over (the event part anyway). This has been on my mind for ages now and now I'm going to start from the absolute beginning. Ahh shit Emily is a handful, but she might surprise you, so don't completely hate her just yet, even if she is a bitch. 


Hope you liked it, m'dear! DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT, YEAH?