COPYRIGHT
Text Copyright © 2009 by Cat on a Leash, Inc.
Illustrations Copyright © 2009 by Carrie Gifford
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
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Little, Brown Books for Young Readers is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: September 2009
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-07117-8
Contents
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER 1: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Mottephobia is the fear of moths.
CHAPTER 2: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Phasmophobia is the fear of ghosts.
CHAPTER 3: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Illyngophobia is the fear of vertigo or feeling dizzy when looking down.
CHAPTER 4: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Agyrophobia is the fear of crossing the street.
CHAPTER 5: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Ablutophobia is the fear of washing or bathing.
CHAPTER 6: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words.
CHAPTER 7: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Didaskaleinophobia is the fear of going to school.
CHAPTER 8: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Optophobia is the fear of opening one’s eyes.
CHAPTER 9: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Cacophobia is the fear of ugliness.
CHAPTER 10: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Lachanophobia is the fear of vegetables.
CHAPTER 11: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Peladophobia is the fear of bald people.
CHAPTER 11: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Nomatophobia is the fear of names.
CHAPTER 13: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Ailurophobia is the fear of cats.
CHAPTER 14: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Logizomechanophobia is the fear of computers.
CHAPTER 15: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Osmophobia is the fear of smells.
CHAPTER 16: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Helminthophobia is the fear of being infested with worms.
CHAPTER 17: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Mastigophobia is the fear of punishment.
CHAPTER 18: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Eisoptrophobia is the fear of mirrors or of seeing oneself in a mirror.
CHAPTER 19: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Arachibutyrophobia is fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth.
CHAPTER 20: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Atychiphobia is the fear of failure.
CHAPTER 21: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Mnemophobia is the fear of memories.
CHAPTER 22: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Somniphobia is the fear of sleep.
CHAPTER 23: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Autophobia is the fear of being alone.
CHAPTER 24: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Chirophobia is the fear of hands.
CHAPTER 25: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Geliophobia is the fear of laughter.
CHAPTER 26: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Heliophobia is the fear of the sun.
CHAPTER 27: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Cynophobia is the fear of dogs.
CHAPTER 28: EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING: Phobophobia is the fear of phobias.
For Shamsi
SCHOOL OF FEAR
The wilderness outside Farmington, Massachusetts
(Exact location withheld for security purposes)
Direct all correspondence to: PO Box 333, Farmington, MA 01201
Dear Applicant,
I am pleased to inform you of your acceptance to the summer course at School of Fear. As you already know, School of Fear is an exceedingly select institution, run by the elusive Mrs. Wellington, aimed at eradicating children’s fears through unorthodox methods. The small group of parents, doctors, alumni, and teachers aware of our existence vigilantly maintain our anonymity. It is at the discretion of this small group that students are referred. We strongly advise all incoming applicants and their families only to discuss School of Fear in the confines of their home with the television on, water running, and dog barking.
On behalf of Mrs. Wellington and the entire School of Fear staff, I would like to welcome you.
Warm regards,
Dictated but not read
LEONARD MUNCHAUSER
Lead Counsel to Mrs. Wellington and School of Fear
Munchauser and Son Law Firm
LM/kd
CHAPTER 1
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Mottephobia is the fear of moths.
A bell is not a bell. While undeniably constructed out of metal and heralded for its ability to ring, it is actually a great deal more than that. It’s the taste of barbecue, the feel of sunburned skin from playing outside all day, and the smell of chlorine from freshly cleaned pools. It’s the promise of football games, sleep overs, and video-game tournaments, all without the interruption of homework. In short, the bell is the gatekeeper of summer.
At Brunswick School for Girls in the posh Kensington neighborhood of London, a group of twenty uniformed students waited for the final proclamation that the school year was over. With desperation brimming in their eyes, the girls watched the clock and waited for the bell. A chorus of petite navy blue shoes, rife with impatience, banged against weathered chairs muting the teacher’s voice.
Disregarding the teacher was hardly a new trick, but on this particular day, the girls did it with the deft ability of guards at Buckingham Palace, the fuzzy hat–clad group who refuse to react under any circumstance. With mounting frustration, the girls wondered if the bell had gone on holiday. It had a history of doing that during exams, oral reports, and other academic nuisances.
Thoughts of mischief frolicked through nineteen of the twenty girls’ minds; however, in the back of the class, there was one young girl determined to will the bell not to ring. Raven-haired Madeleine Masterson had purposefully chosen her seat for its obstructed view of both the clock and the bell. Madeleine’s blue eyes darted rapidly as she repeated three simple words, “do not ring,” under her breath. For the first time in her short life, she had nothing but trepidation and fright for the start of summer.
Normally Madeleine savored summer’s many quiet afternoons spent in the drawing room with a book, puzzle, or Internet-equipped laptop. Madeleine prided herself on having an above-average understanding of world politics. Most students did not know the name of Norway’s prime minister, Jens Stoltenberg, but Madeleine did. She also knew, and more impressively could pronounce, the names of Greenland’s Prime Minister Hans Enoksen, Iceland’s Prime Minister Jóhanna Sigurdar-dóttir, Mauritania’s President Mohamed Ould Abdey Aziz, Benin’s President Yayi Boni, and so on. Madeleine staunchly believed that all of the one hundred ninety-two member states represented at the United Nations deserved to be studied.
Madeleine would gladly spend the summer at Brunswick School for Girls if it meant eclipsing her parents’ plan for her. She would live off the drinking fountain and vending machine; she simply needed to make sure she had enough coins. The idea began to take shape; Madeleine could ravage the library, devouring books by the armful, skip through the
halls, and sleep in the immaculate infirmary. A summer at Brunswick would be utterly delightful!
Regrettably, Madeleine’s plea to stop the bell was flatly denied at exactly 3:00 PM. The piercing sound rang through the grand halls of Brunswick, inciting a stampede of girls in sharp navy-and-white uniforms. Much like the running of the bulls in Pamplona, the rush to leave school was a dangerous event. Luckily, this wasn’t an issue for twelve-year-old Madeleine. She had long insisted on waiting ten minutes for the children, nannies, and parents to clear the front of the school before leaving her chair.
On that particular day, Madeleine was so drowning in dread that she lingered in the classroom for an extra forty-five minutes before exiting. She mentally alphabetized the list of United Nations delegates as a means to pass the time. Madeleine knew her mother and the driver were waiting; however, she had to summon the courage to face summer. It is a rather lamentable fact that few can call upon courage with the expediency they can fear. And Madeleine was no exception.
Mrs. Masterson, keenly attuned to her daughter, had expected the delay and brought the Herald Tribune to read. Fortunately, she found the plush interior of her chauffeured Range Rover far more relaxing than the couch in her drawing room. After reading every pertinent story, Mrs. Masterson flipped the newspaper over just in time to see Madeleine nearing Brunswick’s Victorian-styled main gate. She exited the car as Madeleine emerged from the shadows wearing a netted veil and a belt of aerosol cans. The young girl wildly sprayed the air around her while speeding toward her mother.
“Hello, darling, how was school?”
“Very well, Mummy, thank you for asking. May I inquire whether the car has been fumigated today?”
“Of course, Maddie.”
“I do hope you’re not fibbing, Mummy. I can tell the difference. My nose is quite discriminating.”
“Fibbing? That is ludicrous. I assure you the car has been thoroughly fumigated today.”
“Thank you, Mummy. Aren’t you going to ask why I am late?”
“No, darling.”
“Very well, then. Now, if you don’t mind, I would very much appreciate a quarrel and subsequent grounding. Perhaps one that lasted the entire summer, or if necessary, even longer.”
“Don’t be afraid, Maddie; it’s going to be like camp,” Mrs. Masterson said cheerfully.
“I’ve been to the cinema, Mummy! Camps have poorly insulated cabins with spiders, millipedes, and cockroaches that will climb all over me. I can’t possibly spend the summer in such squalor!”
Madeleine’s intense and obsessive fear of spiders, insects, or bugs of any kind greatly distressed her parents. It was an all-consuming fear that affected every aspect of her life from school to sleep. In the evenings, Madeleine prayed for a spider-free night before climbing beneath a canopy of thick mosquito netting. Already shy by nature, Madeleine had a fear of spiders and bugs that created an additional barrier for her to conquer socially.
Madeleine often remained at home, unwilling to stay in any structure that hadn’t been fumigated recently by exterminators. The brightly colored stripes of an exterminator’s tent gave her the warmth and excitement that most children reserved for birthday or holiday gifts. Regrettably, few parents at Brunswick were willing to meet the costly and time-consuming demands of the young girl behind the netted veil.
In an effort to pinpoint the exact origin of Madeleine’s fear, the Mastersons racked their brains for traumatic incidents involving spiders or bugs. They came up empty every time. As early as Madeleine’s first birthday, they remember her crying fervently at the sight of a daddy-longlegs spider. With time, Madeleine’s fear became more hysterical and extreme, until the Mastersons could no longer rationalize it as a normal childhood stage.
At six years of age, Madeleine drove herself into a panic-stricken state, complete with heart palpitations, after she watched a grasshopper slip through the front door. She became obsessed with the idea of the musically inclined creature crawling across her face while she slept. The mere thought made the already weak-stomached girl keel over with nausea. Within minutes, Madeleine gave her parents an ultimatum: move or call Wilbur, the trusty exterminator.
Wilbur had spent so many nights at the Masterson household that he not only was on their speed dial, but he also received holiday cards from them. He was an extended member of the family and the only person in the world who actually relished Madeleine’s fear. If it wasn’t for Madeleine, it was doubtful he would have been able to afford annual holidays to Bora Bora. So when the Mastersons called about the grasshopper, he happily obliged. It was an awfully expensive job to remove one measly grasshopper, but Madeleine insisted.
In front of Brunswick School for Girls, Madeleine prepared to enter the car when a shiver crawled up her spine. Instinctively, she grabbed her repellent and prepared to spray.
“Don’t shoot!” a shocked classmate begged, hands above her head in the surrendering position.
“Sorry, Samantha, I wasn’t sure what was behind me,” Madeleine replied as she lowered the can.
“When was the last time a spider tapped you on the shoulder? Honestly, Madeleine,” Samantha said with exasperation. “I’m having a party tomorrow afternoon and I thought you might like to come.”
“Would you mind terribly having it at my house?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The party. May we do it at my house?”
“Then everyone will think it’s your party.”
“I suppose that’s true. Has your house been fumigated lately?”
“Sorry, Mum says she won’t fumigate again. Can you at least stop by for pizza?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it would be prudent. Plus, your mum doesn’t much like the smell of bug repellent.”
Mrs. Masterson listened to the exchange with a sinking heart. She only hoped that after the summer Madeleine’s “problem” would cease to exist. As intelligent, polite, and soft-spoken as Madeleine was, she was equally dramatic where spiders or insects were concerned. Mrs. Masterson had been forced to confront Madeleine’s issue several months ago when she requested a note to excuse her from physical education class at school.
“Mummy, please write a letter informing Mrs. Anderson of my inability to play outside due to the flesh-eating virus I recently contracted.”
“The virus isn’t a problem indoors? Just outside?” Mrs. Masterson asked with amusement.
“Mummy, the virus feeds off the UV rays of the sun.”
“Surely you don’t have to choose such an extreme disease to avoid playing outside. How about something simple like a cold? I don’t want the school calling the Center for Disease Control again.”
“Mummy, must you bring that up? I had no idea that foot-and-mouth disease was real. I was put on the spot and it popped into my head.”
“Flesh-eating viruses are real too, Maddie.”
“Yes, Mummy, but Mrs. Anderson has given me no choice in the matter. She said that short of a flesh-eating virus I would have to play outdoors.”
“Maddie, don’t you think it would be easier to play outside?”
“Mummy, not to be cheeky, but I would truly rather have a flesh-eating virus than go outside.”
Mr. and Mrs. Masterson had tried traditional therapy and hypnotism to quell Madeleine’s growing fears, but both were fruitless. The therapist and hypnotist believed Madeleine’s dread of spiders had morphed into a phobia, arachnophobia. Of course labeling the fear did little to alleviate it. When instructed by Mrs. Anderson to attend school without her veil or aerosol cans, Madeleine faked her own kidnapping.
An hour after discovering the ransom note in the kitchen, Mrs. Masterson found Madeleine cocooned in mosquito netting at the bottom of her closet.
“Madeleine, what are you doing down there?”
“Mummy, I’ve been kidnapped; do you mind coming back later?”
“Darling? Who exactly kidnapped you?”
“No one was around, so I had to kidnap myself.”
Mrs. Masterson nodded before asking, “Any reason in particular for the kidnapping?”
“That mad, bonkers Mrs. Anderson is forcing me to go to school without my veil or repellents. It’s cruel and unusual punishment. I think I ought to consult a solicitor,” Madeleine said.
“Honestly, darling, there isn’t a solicitor in England who would take your case. On the off chance that you were seriously planning on taking legal action.”
“Mummy, I don’t have time to discuss this; I’ve been kidnapped.”
“If I speak to Mrs. Anderson and convince her to let you keep your veil and repellents, will you call off the kidnapping?”
“Well, I suppose so. But you’ll still have to pay the ransom. It’s five quid.”
“I don’t have it on me, but I can get it from your father downstairs. Will you come out in good faith?”
Shortly after the great kidnapping scare, Madeleine’s school counselor, Mrs. Kleiner, invited Mr. and Mrs. Masterson to her office for a private meeting. Mrs. Kleiner’s office did not come equipped with a comfortable couch, as Mr. Masterson had predicted, but rather two very uncomfortable baroque chairs. Mrs. Kleiner closed the office door, locked it, and pushed a towel against the base of it. Mrs. Masterson had only ever seen someone do that when there was a fire, as a means of blocking the smoke. As Mrs. Masterson prepared to ask if there was a reason for the towel, Mrs. Kleiner flipped on the radio. The gray-haired counselor removed her oval glasses and dabbed the sweat off her upper lip before speaking.
“Thank you so much for coming in today. I have an important story to share with you,” Mrs. Kleiner said quietly.
“We’re delighted that you’ve taken an interest in Maddie,” Mrs. Masterson responded.
Mrs. Kleiner nervously nodded before beginning her story. “About twenty years ago I enrolled my niece, Eugenia, in an atypical program after she became petrified of dogs. If she even saw a dog, she would faint straightaway. She could be in the middle of the road, and boom; Eugenia would be facedown on the asphalt with black cabs and lorries barreling toward her. And all because there was a little white poodle a mile down the road.”
School of Fear Page 1