As if sensing something disparaging was being said about him, Macaroni lifted his ears and looked suspiciously at Theo.
“Stop worrying about your halitosis and go to bed,” Lulu recommended.
“But what about the plan?”
“For the last time, there is no plan, except to come up with a plan, and then execute it as our best selves,” Lulu explained as fatigue lowered her eyelids to half-mast.
“Exactly,” Madeleine agreed with a smile before pausing to touch her shower cap. “But seeing as our best selves start in the morning, I think I’ll wait until then to remove my cap.”
“Hey! You’re not sleeping standing up. That’s already a major accomplishment,” Garrison pointed out sweetly.
And so, in the darkness of the basement, the School of Fearians closed their eyes to prepare for the day ahead. Moments of great failure and great triumph danced through their dreams, bringing with them bouts of both anguish and joy.
Alone a floor above, Hyacinth and Celery curled up next to the overturned sofa in the Standing-Room-Only Sitting Room. Almost immediately a powerful desire to flee washed over Hyacinth. Her legs twitched as she fought the urge to run back to the safe enclave of friendship downstairs. Yet she remained. Somewhere in Hyacinth’s mind, she knew she couldn’t keep running from her fear. She had to prove to herself once and for all that she could survive being alone. And so she stayed put, with her heart racing and her legs twitching. By the time dawn broke, Hyacinth was both exhausted and extremely proud of herself.
After slipping out to watch the sunrise, Hyacinth ran her small hand over the cold stone of the fortress wall. Lost in her own thoughts, she was startled by a disconcerting but instantly recognizable sound—snorting. In a move that showed great maturity, she immediately covered her mouth with her hand. While she was pretty sure she wouldn’t say anything, she thought it best to take every precaution.
“Good morning, little one,” Sylvie said gruffly between snorts.
Hyacinth winced at the power of the woman’s nose; she had already sniffed her out. She closed her eyes and wondered what to do. Should she stay and listen to what Sylvie had to say? Maybe even try to convince the crazed reporter to drop the story? Or was that too dangerous? Would she accidentally say more than she intended? Perhaps the only safe plan was to scurry back to the house. As Hyacinth labored over the decision, a most remarkable thing occurred: she heard another voice. As it was deep in tone, timbre, and pitch, she quickly deduced it had to be a man. But who could it be? Who else was in on Sylvie’s diabolical plan?
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Gamophobia is the fear
of marriage.
Good day,” Schmidty greeted Basmati as he stomped into the kitchen in a puffy white wedding dress with a train twice the length of his body.
Much like the one worn by Princess Diana on her wedding day, this dress seemed to have a life of its own. The billowing mess of taffeta and crinoline whispered with each step, the fabrics brushing lightly against each other.
“Good day? Is it really a good day, Schmidty? How do we know it’s not going to be a bad day? There are just as many bad days as there are good days, yet people insist on saying good day!”
“Very astute point. I stand most corrected. In the future I shall simply greet people with one word: ‘day,’ ” Schmidty replied to the matrimonially clad man.
“Yes, I think that wise. Now then, I’m off for my final lesson with Abernathy, but remember: if your students do not find Toothpaste, I shall convert him back to his stepmother-hating self quicker than you can say ‘Where’s your other eyebrow?’ ”
“I’m hopeful that will not come to pass, that we shall reunite you with Toothpaste and save our school at the same time.”
“It’s not that I wish School of Fear to fail, but a deal is a deal is a deal is a deal is a deal—”
“Yes,” Schmidty interrupted. “I’m quite sure I understand.”
“Good day, Schmidty.”
“Good day, sir.”
“What did I just tell you about saying that?” Basmati exploded.
“But you just said it yourself.”
“I did no such thing!”
“My apologies, sir. I must have hallucinated,” Schmidty said with exasperation. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my delusions stemmed from a complete lack of food. Your kitchen is chock-full of cylinders but nary a cracker or crumb.”
“I shudder to think of how you were raised. Everyone knows food is to be stored in washing machines, water heaters, and radiators. Who in their right mind keeps food in the kitchen?” Basmati said with disbelief as he stormed out of the room.
“Yes, who in their right mind indeed,” Schmidty muttered to himself as he went in search of the closest radiator.
After gratefully munching on an array of peanut butter and crackers provided by Schmidty, the School of Fearians returned to the basement to formulate yet another plan. The students, seated in a circle with Macaroni in the center, were understandably tense. They had a responsibility to one another and to Mrs. Wellington, but most of all to School of Fear itself. Without such an institution, future generations of neurotic children would go untreated, dooming them to a life of anxiety and worry.
“Gary, what’s the plan?” Theo asked, eating rogue crumbs off his shirt.
“I’ve always hated losing,” Garrison said in a surprisingly philosophical tone. “It made me feel really bad about myself, like all the hard work I put in was for nothing. But now I’m beginning to think I was wrong. Failure forces you to focus on what’s really important, what matters most to you. And do you know what matters most to me? Showing the world just how strong we’ve become, letting them know that nothing can stop us, not even our fears.”
Madeleine took a deep breath, said a prayer for a spider-and-insect-free future, and removed her plastic shower cap. After weeks of continuously wearing the cap, the girl felt rather naked without it. And while a small part of her longed to put it back on, she didn’t. Madeleine was ready for liberation, from both her fear and her unflattering accessory.
“Give it up for M-A-D-D-I-E!” Theo said as he jumped up and began performing some highly questionable Rumpmaster Funk dance moves. “Go Fearians! Go Fearians!”
“School of Fearians are the best, especially when put to the test!” Hyacinth sang off-key as she joined Theo’s impromptu dance party.
“Nice moves!” Theo complimented Hyacinth as he simulated riding a carousel, a dance move he felt was ripe to sweep the nation.
“Not to rain on the parade, but we haven’t actually rescued Toothpaste yet. As a matter of fact, we haven’t even come up with a plan to rescue Toothpaste. So maybe it’s better to hold off on all the celebrating until we’ve done that,” Lulu announced sensibly, prompting the others to nod in agreement.
Nestled in the southeast corner of the gardens, behind a cluster of aspen trees, was an intricately carved chartreuse and pink gazebo. While the color scheme was most unbecoming, an abundance of dried flowers and candles masked it well. Long-dead roses, tulips, and hydrangeas overflowed from the rotunda, creating a scene similar to that of a wedding. Unfortunately, weddings always left Abernathy ill at ease, as they stirred up memories of losing his father to Mrs. Wellington. He had long thought of them as similar to funerals: cause for great sorrow and mourning.
Then Basmati arrived in the elaborate white wedding dress, humming “Here Comes the Bride,” which did little to assuage Abernathy’s anxiety.
“What a glorious day for a wedding! Absolutely perfect,” Basmati said merrily as he marched up the steps, his long train trailing behind him.
While perplexed as to who could possibly be getting married, Abernathy remained mum, worried the answer might include an alpaca.
“I love dead flowers—they’re just perfect for weddings,” Basmati stated, lightly grazing the flowers with his fingertip.
Abernathy nodded politely while studying the detailed beading of Basmati
’s bodice. It was a most elaborate creation, clearly the work of a very patient and well-sighted artisan.
“It’s a beautiful dress, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but doesn’t the bride usually wear the dress?”
“In civilized society, the groom wears the gown and the bride the suit,” Basmati said snottily, quite literally looking down his nose at Abernathy.
The two exceptionally weird men fell into a prolonged silence, during which Basmati stared intently at Abernathy. While the forest dweller loathed the intrusive gaze, he had come to expect such behavior from the half-mustached man.
“As I am sure you’ve noticed by now,” Basmati said, “I am madly in love with your stepmother, Edith Wellington. And today I shall marry her, making me your stepfather.”
“I don’t want a stepfather,” Abernathy exclaimed quickly, his stomach twisting painfully into knots. “It doesn’t matter, anyway; she’ll never marry you.”
“What did you say?”
“I said she’ll never marry you.”
“Well, I don’t think she’ll ever marry you,” Basmati barked back venomously.
“That’s fine—I don’t want to marry her!” Abernathy replied with scantily masked hostility.
“Oh, of course, how could I forget? You despise poor old Edith Wellington; you would never marry someone you hate.”
“I would never marry her because she’s my stepmother!”
“And?” Basmati asked, shrugging his shoulders.
“And she’s family…. Family doesn’t marry family, at least not where I come from!”
“So you two are family?”
Abernathy paused to breathe as his blood pressure skyrocketed, a terribly common occurrence when speaking with Basmati.
“Yes, we’re family.”
“And that means you definitely don’t want to marry her, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, if you don’t want to marry her, neither do I!”
And with that Basmati marched straight out of the gazebo, his train flying dramatically behind him. Abernathy stood shocked amid the flowers, one word racing through his mind: “family.” He had referred to Mrs. Wellington as family, but what did that even mean? Abernathy hadn’t been a part of anything resembling a family since he was a child. He closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed; a sudden flash of emotion filled his body as he recalled playing with his father as a little boy. Perhaps he did remember what family was after all.
“Let’s get down to business. What’s our plan to find Toothpaste? It’s got to work, and fast, because we still need to convince Sylvie to pull the story,” Lulu announced to the School of Fearians, who remained seated in a circle on the basement floor.
“Celery and I think the best way to handle Sylvie is to talk to her friend. She seems super scared of him, like he’s her dad or dentist or something, so she’ll do whatever he says,” Hyacinth remarked offhandedly to the group.
“What are you talking about?” Lulu exploded as Garrison simultaneously exclaimed, “What friend?”
As everyone reacted to her comment, Hyacinth merely shook her head angrily at Celery, who was perched atop her shoulder.
“Oh, no, did Celery forget to tell you? She’s become super unreliable lately; maybe it’s Alzheimer’s? Or amnesia? Or ferret dementia? Or—”
“Hyacinth!” Lulu snapped with frustration. “Just tell us what happened.”
“Okay, so Celery and I decided to watch the sunrise this morning, in honor of our super-duper accomplishment of sleeping alone. Although, in truth, we didn’t really sleep at all—”
“Do you think you could tell us what happened a little faster?” Lulu interrupted through gritted teeth.
“We were walking next to the wall and we heard Sylvie talking to a man.”
“And what makes you think it was her dentist? Were they talking about gingivitis? Plaque? Root canals?” Theo asked seriously.
“Chunk, Hyacinth didn’t mean her actual dentist, just someone she’s afraid of like a dentist,” Lulu clarified.
“Oh, I see,” Theo said with a knowing nod. “I get it—dentists can be scary. I’m actually in hiding from my last one; he made me give up chocolate, soda, ice cream… all sugar-based products. It was like being back at fat camp all over again!”
“I could be wrong, but I’d bet my good name that the man is the editor of Sylvie’s paper. Think about it: Who else would she trust to bring in on such a big story?” Madeleine pondered, biting her lip ever so slightly.
“Good point,” Lulu agreed.
“The editor is probably looking to confirm the facts, make sure she isn’t another Stephen Glass or Jayson Blair.” Madeleine surmised.
“I think I speak for everyone in the room when I say we have no idea who Jayson Blair and Stephen Glass are, or what they have to do with Sylvie,” Lulu said, brusquely pushing her strawberry blond locks away from her freckled face.
“They’re notorious American reporters who received a great deal of attention for breaking the most unbelievable stories. Only it was later discovered that the articles were fabricated.”
“This is exactly why I don’t read the paper!” Theo huffed dramatically. “Well, that and because I hate getting ink all over my fingers.”
“So you think the man is Sylvie’s editor?” Garrison wondered aloud.
“Yes. It’s the only plausible explanation I can think of,” Madeleine stated confidently. “Unfortunately, it might make dealing with Sylvie a bit harder, as she’ll loathe admitting defeat in front of her boss.”
“Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? We still don’t have a plan to rescue Toothpaste. And without Toothpaste, we lose the rehabilitated Abernathy, leaving us with nothing to undermine Sylvie’s story,” Lulu pointed out logically.
“I’ve got an idea! Let’s dress up real tough, like with leather jackets and slicked-back hair, and scare the information out of the Contrarians,” Theo offered earnestly.
“They jump off roofs for fun; I don’t think leather jackets are going to cut it,” Lulu responded.
“Celery wants to know why we don’t bribe them, figure out what they want and give it to them in exchange for the bird.”
“Darn it! That’s actually a good idea,” Theo said, abashed. “Outsmarted by a ferret again.”
“But what do they want? The only thing they’ve ever shown interest in is lighting things on fire,” Lulu pointed out.
“There must be something else. Everyone has a price—especially boys with limited intelligence,” Madeleine said shrewdly.
“That’s true; I’d do anything for two éclairs and a glass of milk,” stated Theo.
“You’d do anything for a stick of gum,” Lulu replied with a smirk.
Theo scoffed before relenting, “I guess it depends on how long it had been since I last ate. Gum is a poor substitute for food, but when you’re hungry, you’re hungry.”
“Instead of guessing what they might like, why don’t we simply ask them?” Madeleine suggested sensibly.
“I don’t know; the direct approach didn’t work last time,” Garrison responded.
“Last time we weren’t offering anything. The promise of goods is a wholly different situation. These boys are essentially pirates—fearless maniacs holding poor Toothpaste hostage. But, like all pirates, they must want something.” Madeleine explained confidently.
“Okay, I’m in. Let’s do it,” Garrison announced, taking to his feet.
“Wait? You want to do it right now? Aren’t we going to practice first? Do a dress rehearsal or something?” Theo warbled nervously.
“Theo, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, time is of the essence. We only have today to save the school,” Lulu declared firmly.
“Here we go to meet the boys, who play with pet canaries as if they’re toys, and even though they may be strong, we have the gift of song!” Hyacinth sang in her usual tone-deaf manner.
“Thanks, I feel better already, now let’s g
o forth, strong and steady,” Theo replied happily to Hyacinth’s song as the School of Fearians made their way up the basement stairs.
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Batrachophobia is the fear
of amphibians.
This is like a whole garden of Theos,” Hyacinth commented as the fretful Fearians cut through a patch of Venus flytraps, one of the world’s few carnivorous plants capable of eating flies and insects.
“Except I’m a vegetarian!” Theo pointed out animatedly.
“I think these just might be the most magical plants in the entire world! They eat insects! Isn’t that fabulous?” Madeleine exclaimed delightedly.
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to send you a bouquet on your birthday,” Lulu replied dryly.
“Actually, Lulu, it would need to be a potted plant, because they won’t eat insects unless they’re still alive,” Madeleine clarified.
“Maddie, I hate to have to break it to you,” Theo said, “but Lulu is an imaginary-gift giver. Or, to put it bluntly, she’s really cheap and refuses to buy anyone a present.”
“Chunk, I thought you of all people would be into imaginary gift giving. I mean, it’s way better for the environment. Or maybe you’re not as green as you thought?” Lulu said to Theo.
“How dare you? I’m so green… I’m blue and yellow… as in the colors that make green,” Theo retorted awkwardly.
“Wow, that was so bad, it was almost epic,” Garrison said as the group came upon a mass of topiaries sculpted into triangles, circles, and squares.
Once they’d made it beyond the well-sculpted hedges, the School of Fearians searched a mini-volcano surrounded by lava rocks, a compost garden, and the gazebo, but could find no sign of the Contrarians. Just as they wondered whether it was possible that the boys had slipped back into the house, they stumbled upon a smoldering left shoe.
“If Smokey the Bear had a top ten most-wanted list, these guys would be on it!” Theo said, shaking his head.
The Final Exam Page 13