“Oh, don’t be pessimistic. Our lessons have just begun. Why, I haven’t even tried hypnosis on them yet.”
“Schmidty, I went to see the top three hypnotists in New York City. These are the people congressmen and athletes go to for big problems, and it still didn’t work. I don’t think waving a spoon in front of Abernathy’s face is going to cut it.”
“I was planning on using a pocket watch,” Schmidty replied softly, clearly rattled by Theo’s dour assessment. “We mustn’t lose faith, Mister Theo. It’s terribly important that we believe in our ability to do this, or else… we’re sunk.”
Theo smiled halfheartedly, more for Schmidty’s sake than his own.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mister Theo, there is a pesky reporter out there who deserves a piece of my mind!”
“Okay, but don’t give her too much; there’s not a lot left.”
Unfortunately, try as Schmidty did, he simply could not locate Sylvie Montgomery anywhere on the grounds. Of course, seeing as he’s legally blind, the odds were rather unfavorably against him. Having neither heard a snort nor seen a splash of pink, Schmidty returned to the manse to conduct his first group-therapy session. After Theo’s grave assessment of the scenario, he decided there simply wasn’t time for traditional talking; something much bolder was required. However, outside of his hairdo, Schmidty was not a bold man. And so he sought the counsel of the boldest person he knew—Lulu. Fueled by the seemingly dire straits, she quickly devised a medieval-inspired game aimed at releasing pent-up aggression.
The Duel of the Senses, as Lulu called it, was to take place on the polo field off the Great Hall. Murals of bucolic rolling hills with white picket fences adorned the walls, while lush green AstroTurf covered the floor. Two of Mrs. Wellington’s taxidermied horses were positioned face-to-face in the center of the room. A safe distance away, Theo, Madeleine, Hyacinth, Garrison, and Macaroni sat patiently in a row of chairs. Most abnormally, the students and Macaroni were covered head to toe in slimy, heat-sensitive Greenland Fungus. Mrs. Wellington kept the rare organism in a room off the Great Hall, as it was frighteningly easy to spread; one only had to touch it to be instantly mummified in the green goo.
The sound of Schmidty’s poor trumpet playing signaled the start of the duel. Lulu led a trash bag–ensconced Mrs. Wellington to a regal black horse while Schmidty guided an equally trash bag–clad Abernathy to a spotted brown and white horse. Unfortunately, both were slippery and struggled to mount the stationary animals, an unforeseen consequence of their armor.
“Celery wants to know why we’re covered in this nasty green stuff,” Hyacinth whispered to Garrison. “I mean, I totally don’t care, but you know how persnickety ferrets can be—they’re total drama queens about their wardrobe.”
“It blocks the smell,” Garrison answered absentmindedly from beneath his green sheen.
“The smell of what?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
Meanwhile, on the field, Lulu and Schmidty handed identical satchels to Abernathy and Mrs. Wellington before slowly backing away. The duel leaders then touched Macaroni, allowing the heat-sensitive fungus to spread to their bodies.
“May the best lunatic win,” Lulu announced with a smirk before waving a pink paisley scarf in the air to officially start the Duel of the Senses.
The rules were simple: whoever stayed atop his or her horse the longest won. While remaining mounted on a taxidermied animal might sound simple, that certainly was not the case, for inside the identical satchels were small vats of foulness from the Library of Smelly Foods, which Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy were to strategically hurl at each other. Fainting, uncontrolled tremors, and violent vomiting are just some of the reported side effects from coming into contact with such items.
As Mrs. Wellington lobbed rotten cauliflower twice regurgitated by a guppy fish at Abernathy, Lulu explained the cost of losing to her classmates: the loser had to recall one kind memory about the winner, or eat every last ounce of rotten food off the floor.
Abernathy immediately proved a worthy opponent, ducking just in the nick of time to avoid the putrid blob of cauliflower. He then quickly tossed a mound of rotten roe, also known as fish eggs, at Mrs. Wellington’s chest. The small green balls separated from the mass, sending a minimum of four roe directly up her nose. This incited the game’s first occurrence of projectile vomiting.
“What an absolutely barbaric sport,” Madeleine stated candidly to Theo as she shielded her eyes from the unsavory scene.
“I know. I think Lulu may have found her calling.”
Mrs. Wellington slowly lifted her head off the back of the horse before shifting into a warrior pose. With the skill and ferocity of a Viking, the old woman attacked, sending putrid kimchi with her right hand and durian fruits with her left. The result was nothing short of an atomic olfactory bomb, knocking the breath right out of Abernathy. The gray-faced man wobbled back and forth a minimum of six times before collapsing abruptly onto the AstroTurf floor.
Mrs. Wellington neither cheered nor rejoiced in her victory. On the contrary, she appeared almost pained by the sight of her debilitated stepson. As she stood over Abernathy, carefully plugging her nose, the noxious-smelling man opened his eyes. Mrs. Wellington waited with bated breath, desperate to know what Abernathy would share.
“I’ll eat the remnants,” Abernathy declared defiantly, eradicating all sprigs of optimism from the room.
Mrs. Wellington nodded and turned to leave, then paused.
“When I was just your teacher, before you knew of my feelings for your father or his feelings for me, you told me you would never go back on your word, and to my knowledge you never have, but perhaps just this once you ought to.”
Whether Abernathy did in fact eat the remnants of rotten cauliflower, kimchi, and durian fruit will never be known by anyone other than himself. Following Mrs. Wellington’s proclamation, Schmidty and the students hurried out, desperate to wash away the slimy Greenland Fungus with a salt shower.
After thoroughly bathing in tomato juice, the sole substance capable of removing the stench of rotten food, Abernathy set off for his first lesson in social graces. Lulu was to focus on the man’s hunched shoulders, rapidly moving eye contact, and extremely awkward body language. Beyond passing Sylvie Montgomery’s test, Lulu fretted that Abernathy’s behavior left him ripe to be recruited by a cult.
“Abernathy, it’s really important that you learn to greet Mrs. Wellington like a normal person. That means no growling, snarling, or hissing,” Lulu explained calmly while seated in the classroom. “I’ve asked Theo to join us today to help with the demonstration.”
Lulu then turned toward Theo, smiled, and waved. “Hey, Theo, how are you?”
“Lulu!” Theo screamed as he engulfed the girl in a mammoth hug. “I’ve missed you so much, friend!”
“Get off me,” Lulu huffed, hard-heartedly pushing the boy away.
“Was that too much?”
“I said act normal. What part of that was normal?”
“I created a backstory to help me get into character. You’ve just been freed after twelve years as a prisoner in the Colombian jungle. So with that in mind, I would say my reaction was pretty normal,” Theo explained.
“We are not practicing talk-show reunions; we’re doing normal, everyday hellos,” Lulu responded. “Do you understand? Or do I need to go over the definition of ‘normal’ again?”
“Actually, that could be really helpful. Sometimes it feels like English isn’t my first language.”
“Theo, you were born and raised in New York City.”
“Or so my parents claim. I wouldn’t be surprised if Joaquin kidnapped me from the streets of Canada as a young child.”
“You do realize they speak English in Canada as well? And trust me, if Joaquin had kidnapped you, he would have returned you long ago.”
“This is the thanks I get for rescuing you from the jungles of Colombia?” Theo said, shaking his head at Lulu.
“Oh, please, everyone knows you were thrown out of the Boy Scouts. The least you could have done is made up a believable backstory,” Lulu railed at Theo as Abernathy looked on with confusion.
“I prefer the term ‘dishonorably discharged,’ ” Theo huffed. “And that whole thing was blown way out of proportion.”
“You hid food in your tent and almost got the whole troop mauled by a bear.”
“Well, excuse me for wanting a midnight snack! And how was I supposed to know bears even liked hummus?”
“What was it you wanted me to do exactly?” Abernathy asked meekly as Theo and Lulu continued to argue, having momentarily forgotten the dire and terribly overwhelming predicament School of Fear was in.
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Hypnophobia is the fear
of being hypnotized.
Days passed, lessons continued—and so did the relentless snooping of Sylvie Montgomery. On more than one occasion, Schmidty caught her swimming in the birdbath, hiding in the azalea bush, or posing as a statue outside the front door. To say the old man was peeved was an enormous understatement—he was downright livid. Not only was this woman determined to destroy his madame’s career, she was stopping him from one of his greatest leisure activities: talking to himself. Schmidty had long enjoyed chatting about his daily stresses and concerns while minding the gardens. But of course with a reporter on the loose, this was no longer a possibility. So in an effort to deter Sylvie from hanging around the grounds, Schmidty had begun dousing her in Casu Frazigu. Unfortunately, it turned out Sylvie was rather fond of the specialty dish.
Sensing that time was fast running out and that Sylvie’s tenacity would soon pay off, Schmidty decided to attempt hypnosis. After placing Mrs. Wellington on the drawing room couch, he dug out an old gold pocket watch. While the beautifully crafted family heirloom dated from 1803, it was hardly enough to keep Mrs. Wellington’s attention. So Schmidty taped a picture of the old woman to the piece of jewelry, knowing nothing captured her interest quite like she did.
“Madame, please follow the picture with your eyes.”
“As if I have a choice; I’m utterly ravishing! I literally can’t keep my eyes off myself!”
“As always, your modesty amazes me,” Schmidty said wryly as he continued to evenly swing the medallion. “Imagine you are walking down a staircase; picture each and every step.”
“I thought you were hypnotizing me to stop loathing Abernathy. What’s all this nonsense about stairs?”
“Madame, you and I both know you care very deeply for Abernathy.”
“That boy has been a dark cloud over my life, haunting me, torturing my every second! And yet he’s angry with me? What have I ever done to him, besides love his father?”
“Perhaps it’s best we segue into the listening section—and just to be clear, you are expected to listen, not me.”
“Is that your elaborate way of telling me to shut up?”
“Yes, Madame, it most certainly is,” Schmidty said before prompting the woman to close her eyes and continue down the imaginary staircase.
Two floors down, Schmidty noticed a remarkable change in Mrs. Wellington’s breathing.
“Madame,” he whispered excitedly before hearing the definitive sound of a snore.
As Schmidty covered a slumbering Mrs. Wellington with a soft chenille blanket, Theo continued his tour de force makeover of Abernathy.
“A lot of people say you can wear pastel only near Easter, but I disagree,” Theo said confidently as he led his student into the downstairs closet. “With your gray skin tone, soft colors will do wonders for you.”
“And you’re sure plaid and pastel go together?” Abernathy asked timidly.
“Plaid plus pastel plus fanny pack equals cool. End of discussion,” Theo stated assuredly before breaking into some awkward stretches. “And as a special bonus, for today only, you are getting a one-on-one dance session with none other than Rumpmaster Funk.”
“Let me guess—you’re Rumpmaster Funk.”
“That’s right,” Theo said as he broke into a movement that combined jumping jacks with a rogue hula hoop motion.
As Lulu, Theo, Madeleine, and Garrison worked tirelessly, time appeared to move at an accelerated speed. Soon Abernathy knew the names of all 192 United Nations member states, the starting lineup for the Yankees, and how to maintain eye contact. But most impressively, Abernathy had accomplished all of this while dressed in pastel and plaid. However, absolutely no progress was made where Mrs. Wellington was concerned. Abernathy still growled and snarled whenever she spoke to him.
After hearing of Schmidty’s unsuccessful hypnosis session with Mrs. Wellington, Garrison decided to take the lead where Abernathy was concerned. He simply couldn’t bear the idea of spending the rest of his life as a fraud, sending postcards from phony surfing holidays in Hawaii and Bali.
“You are falling into a deep trance,” Garrison said to Abernathy, who was lying nearly horizontal in the dentist chair in the Fearnasium. “Your eyelids are growing heavier by the second. Soon, you will have no choice but to close them.”
Lulled by Garrison’s commanding voice, Abernathy quickly closed his eyes. At this point the tanned boy stared at the man’s peaceful gray face and froze. Garrison simply hadn’t a clue what to do next. “Um, we are currently experiencing technical difficulties. Please be patient, and we will be with you shortly.”
“Technical difficulties?” Lulu surprised Garrison from behind. “This isn’t the cable company; you can’t just put him on hold.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t really think I was going to miss your first hypnosis session, did you?”
“It’s a disaster! What am I supposed to say?”
Lulu winked at Garrison before bluntly asking what everyone was dying to know: “Abernathy, why do you hate Mrs. Wellington?”
The man’s eyes fluttered rapidly beneath his eyelids, much as one might see in someone suffering a seizure.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that—what if it sends him into some sort of coma?”
“No way,” Garrison muttered quietly in response. “That’s ridiculous. You’re starting to sound like Theo.”
“I’ll deny saying this if you ever tell him, but sometimes Theo is actually right. What if this is one of those times? What if I have accidentally caused our one and only hope of saving the school to have a seizure?”
As the color drained from Garrison’s overly bronzed face, Abernathy slowly opened his chapped pink lips. Both Lulu and Garrison stared at him intently, frightened of what he’d do next.
“I had no choice; I promised her…”
“Promised who?” Lulu yelped excitedly—perhaps too excitedly, as it jolted the man.
“I need to go,” Abernathy declared, opening his eyes and sitting straight up. Seconds later, he darted out of the Fearnasium without so much as a wave or look in Lulu and Garrison’s direction.
“What do you think he meant when he said he had no choice?” Garrison repeated curiously to Lulu.
“I’m still wondering who she is…”
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Dermatophobia is the fear
of skin lesions.
Failure is the most relentless of enemies, ravaging all who cross its path. And nowhere was this truer than with the School of Fearians. As their prospects of success dwindled, so did their confidence, inciting a marked regression in the students’ behavior. And, try as they might, they simply couldn’t resist sharing their rediscovered phobias with Abernathy.
“Spiders are essentially eight-legged criminals, dare I say terrorists, so if you see one, kill it. And that goes for insects as well. When in doubt, stomp first, ask questions later,” Madeleine said politely while having afternoon tea with Abernathy in the classroom. “Another scone?”
“Madeleine,” Abernathy chirped as he placed a scone on his small rose plate, “I spent a lot of time with spiders and insect
s while living in the forest.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. We really ought to bathe you in boric acid, just in case any creepy crawlers slipped in with you,” Madeleine said as she pushed her chair away from Abernathy.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to scare you. I promise no spiders or insects came in with me. I just wanted to tell you that they are actually pretty amazing creatures if you get to know them.”
“Blasphemy!” Madeleine responded with such high drama that she could easily have been mistaken for Theo. “Abernathy, I loathe pulling rank, but I am the teacher, and that means I am always correct! SPIDERS MUST DIE!”
While Madeleine was focused on spiders and insects, Lulu returned to her unilateral distrust of elevators.
“How do we really know the doors are going to open again? The government claims to monitor elevators, but with the economy tanking, something is bound to fall through the cracks. And my money is on elevator maintenance.”
“But aren’t there phones in elevators?” Abernathy asked quietly.
“I can’t believe you even brought those up! They’re less reliable than Theo on a diet!” Lulu shrieked, most illogically offended by Abernathy’s comment.
Even Garrison, who was normally heralded for his cool façade, was starting to crumble in front of Abernathy.
“Surfing is all about being Zen, cool, and collected, and that’s totally me,” Garrison stated emphatically before his face started perspiring excessively. “My only problem with surfing is the water. Those currents will suck you out to sea and drown you slowly…”
Abernathy wondered why Garrison hadn’t created a new persona based around rock climbing or hang gliding so that he could easily avoid water. But the boy was utterly disinterested in being anything other than a surfer, albeit a fraudulent one. However disturbing Abernathy’s conversation with Garrison was, it paled in comparison to Theo’s diatribe on danger. He literally listed seventeen ways to die within seventeen steps of the front door. After absorbing such macabre information, Abernathy was extraordinarily relieved to listen to Hyacinth sing—at least until he took note of the lyrics. The little girl had taken to singing about being alone and friendless after School of Fear closed.
The Final Exam Page 4