School of Fear

by Gitty Daneshvari

  “Good job, contestants.”

  “I have a headache,” Lulu moaned while covering her left eye with her hand.

  “If you hold your hand like that, you could damage your eye, Lulu. Or you could trip and fall,” Theo warned, oblivious to the girl’s condition.

  “I feel a bit weak myself,” Madeleine said as she sat down in the dentist chair to ease her nauseated stomach.

  Garrison wiped his brow on his sleeve and walked toward a door behind Madeleine and the dentist chair. It was a heavy metal door, similar to that of a vault with a wheel handle. Scratched in nearly illegible marker was “Munchauser’s Masterpiece.”

  “What’s Munchauser’s Masterpiece?” Garrison asked Mrs. Wellington.

  “Oh! That room. That room, what a disappointment. He tried to create a machine to beat the track. No need to go in there, contestants,” Mrs. Wellington said while adjusting her wig. “The whole lot of you look exhausted. Come, let me show you to your living quarters. There’s nothing to be afraid of there, but don’t fret; we’ll certainly be returning to the Fearnasium.”

  That was what worried Lulu, Madeleine, Theo, and Garrison.

  CHAPTER 13

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Ailurophobia is the fear of cats.

  The living quarters, as Mrs. Wellington referred to them, were on Summerstone’s second floor, which was a far less imposing setting than the first floor. The children’s “quarters” consisted of two rooms connected by a bathroom. First along the hallway was the blue door with the words GARCON, RAGAZZO, BUB, and BOY inscribed on it. Behind the door, blue and white striped wallpaper, hardwood floors, and heavy sun-stained navy curtains surrounded two twin beds with sapphire gingham bedspreads. Above each bed was a painting of Errol and Ratty, the cats, playing baseball in uniforms.

  “Sometimes I regret training them to ignore me. It would have been refreshing to have an all-feline baseball team. Of course, the uniforms would prove a challenge. Ratty and Errol threw such tantrums when they sat for their portraits,” Mrs. Wellington said fondly while gazing at the paintings.

  A similar set of paintings, starring Fiona and Annabelle in tutus and toe shoes, hung above the girls’ beds. As with the boys’ room, FILLE, RAGAZZA, FRAULEIN, and GIRL, in perfect calligraphy, were painted on the door. Upon entering the room, Madeleine immediately realized that Mrs. Wellington’s love of the color pink was not limited to the kitchen. Soft pink walls with white polka dots clashed with mauve carpet, fuchsia curtains, and cherry-colored paisley duvets.

  Madeleine canvassed the corners for cobwebs while haphazardly spraying around her body. As she took note of her own reflection, barely visible beneath the netting she wore, a tinge of sadness passed over her. She quickly snapped out of it, remembering that vanity was a small price to pay to avoid sticky spider feet. The thought of a spider’s many legs gave her goose bumps and a whiff of nausea, as did the paisley-print bedspread.

  “Mrs. Wellington, when was the last time this room was sprayed for insects by an exterminator?”

  “This morning, dear. I sent Schmidty up here with four cans of repellent and told him to spray until he passed out.”

  “How long did he last?” Madeleine asked in all seriousness.

  “I’d say a good forty-five minutes. Macaroni only lasted ten; short-nosed dogs simply don’t have the lung capacity for that kind of work.”

  “And during the extermination, were the blankets and sheets sprayed?”

  “No, dear.”

  “What?” Madeleine gasped frantically.

  “Of course not; I had them laundered in a repellent.”

  “Gross,” Lulu moaned. “Did you do it to both beds?”

  “Certainly; I didn’t want either one of you to feel trapped, like you had to sleep in a certain bed,” Mrs. Wellington said with emphasis on the word “trapped.” Lulu understood what she meant, having long insisted on sleeping as close to a window as possible.

  “Thanks,” Lulu said in a hushed tone while approaching the window.

  Lulu pulled back the grotesque fuchsia curtains and checked the windows’ ability to open. Staring blankly into the yard below, she felt a shiver flow up her spine, setting off the twitch behind her left eye. Inexplicably, Lulu had the distinct feeling of being watched, and not by Mrs. Wellington or her classmates. She scanned the yard for eyes, shadows, or movement but saw nothing. Perhaps it was nerves, Lulu thought, turning away from the window.

  After spotting the rusty bathroom doorknob, Lulu was able to shake the feeling of eyes following her. Well, technically, she didn’t so much shake the feeling as overwhelm it with a more familiar emotion: panic. Lulu was certain that the dilapidated knob could not lock or, more importantly, unlock properly. She stood in front of the bathroom, paralyzed with thoughts of a room without windows. She knew it wasn’t a good sign that the bathroom appeared dark. Surely if there was a window, the room would be lighter. Spasms exploded in Lulu’s left eye as Mrs. Wellington watched her closely.

  “Not to worry, Lulu, the blinds are merely closed in the bathroom. Believe me; the window is large enough to accommodate your body if needed. You will drop two stories and break your legs, but you will live.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Lulu lied as her heart rate slowed to a normal adolescent speed.

  “No reason to play tough, my dear — this is School of Fear after all. If you didn’t have a fear, you would have no business being here.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Lulu responded as her eye stopped twitching.

  “Before I leave you, I want to inform you that farther down the hall is the barbershop, Schmidty’s room, and my suite. None of these areas are contestant-friendly. In other words, don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency.”

  “What if we want a haircut?” Garrison asked snidely.

  “The barbershop is a shrine to my husband, who died of a heart attack on the bus up here.”

  “Oh,” Garrison said awkwardly.

  “Was he a barber?” Theo asked.

  “No, but the last thing he said as he clutched his chest was, ‘I wish I had gotten my hair cut.’ ”

  The children silently agreed that the best response to this comment was no response at all.

  That night at dinner, Madeleine, Theo, Garrison, and Lulu were delighted to discover that, unbeknownst to Mrs. Wellington, Schmidty had skipped the Casu Frazigu flavoring in their food. Mrs. Wellington, on the other hand, was rather delighted that the foursome had come around so quickly to the delicacy. With a stealth look from Schmidty, everyone understood that what Mrs. Wellington didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  After dinner, Madeleine followed Lulu around their pink bedroom, analyzing the situation. “She seems a bit odd. Perhaps a trifle mad,” Madeleine said cautiously.

  “I guess,” Lulu said.

  “Did you happen to see a phone downstairs?” Madeleine asked hopefully.

  “Of course… .” Lulu trailed off, wondering if she had in fact seen a phone downstairs. “Well, I’m almost certain I did.”

  In the boys’ room, Theo curled up in the fetal position and stared misty-eyed at the wall. Memories of holiday dinners, watching television with his sisters, and logging family check-ins in “Dead or Alive” wafted through his mind. Theo missed his family so much it actually hurt to breathe, or maybe that was because he was in the fetal position and his muscles were cramping. Either way, the boy was in pain.

  Theo imagined his poor, old, tired mother hysterical over her decision not to give him a cell phone. Of course, in actuality, his mother was enjoying a late dinner at Elaine’s with her husband. As Theo agonized over his mother’s misery, Garrison lay on the gingham bedspread reading the only magazine he’d brought. If Garrison had known that the only other boy at the school would be so wimpy, he would have packed a thousand sports magazines, or, better yet, he simply wouldn’t have come.

  “Do you miss your family?” Theo blustered as the heat from his tears steamed his glasses.


  “We haven’t even been gone a full day yet,” Garrison responded with frustration. “You need to get a grip. Trust me, wherever they are, they are better off than we are with a weird old lady and a blind guy with a comb-over. It’s a statistical fact,” Garrison said to Theo.

  Theo nodded at Garrison, who then feigned casualness as he asked something that had been on his mind since Theo started spouting statistics earlier, “By any chance, do you know the likelihood of a tsunami hitting Miami?”

  “I don’t have exact numbers on tsunamis for that region, but if I were you I would be more worried about hurricanes. I had to miss the class trip to Disney World last year, all because they insisted on scheduling it during prime hurricane season. I’m sorry, but there aren’t enough churros in the world to make that worth it.”

  Garrison nodded his head at Theo, picked up his magazine, and pretended to keep reading. He reminded himself of his escape plan in case of a hurricane warning — book ticket over phone and call parents upon arrival in New York. Just as Garrison stopped perspiring over hypothetical water disasters, there was a soft knock at the bathroom door. Before either Theo or Garrison could respond, Lulu and Madeleine popped their heads into the boys’ room.

  “Hey, did you guys see a phone downstairs?” Lulu asked casually. “I’m totally fine, but Madeleine is kind of freaking out.”

  “I most certainly am not freaking out, Lulu. In light of Mrs. Wellington’s bizarre behavior, I simply would like to know where the phones are located.”

  Theo jumped off his bed, excitement resonating from every pore in his body.

  “Yes, Madeleine,” Theo said with delight, “I couldn’t agree more. Let’s go downstairs and find all the phones and call our parents. I may cry, so bring some tissues. Then, we’ll create maps so wherever we are in the house, we will know where the closest phone is.”

  Madeleine stared at Theo, a bit dumbfounded by his elaborate plan.

  “I just meant I would like to know where a phone is. I don’t think we need to map it out.”

  “Hold it,” Garrison said authoritatively. “You guys need to chill out. No one is going downstairs and getting us in trouble on our first night. I didn’t come all this way to spend my summer in detention.”

  “Fine, but answer me this,” Theo said seriously, “did you see a phone?”

  Garrison stared at the three of them and instantly knew what he had to do. Lie.

  “Of course I saw a phone. Now everyone go to bed.”

  And with the knowledge that there was a phone in the house, everyone fell easily to sleep. Well, everyone except Garrison.

  CHAPTER 14

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Logizomechanophobia is the fear of computers.

  Madeleine longed to see a conservatively stylish bedroom with a globe and a rocking chair when she opened her eyes. Such a refined room would signify that the feet clattering down the hall belonged to her mother and that School of Fear had only been a bizarre dream. However, she knew that even a speck of pink would indicate the continuation of School of Fear. Madeleine took a deep breath before forcing her eyes open. The obliteration of hope burned through her as she saw that she remained in the pink palace.

  A few feet away, strands of Lulu’s strawberry blond hair fluttered across her face as she inhaled and exhaled loudly. A familiar voice boomed through the pink door, wrestling Lulu from sleep and Madeleine from thoughts of home.

  “Ms. Madeleine, Ms. Lulu, you have fifteen minutes to wash and dress for breakfast. Pay special attention to your teeth. I also encourage the use of mouthwash, as Mrs. Wellington has a terrible aversion to morning breath. She’ll scrub your mouth with baking soda and vinegar for the faintest odor.”

  “Got it, Schmidty,” Lulu yelled from her bed before turning toward a morbidly depressed Madeleine. “She’s afraid of morning breath? Whatever. I’m afraid of her bald head.”

  “Oh please, you have nothing to worry about. You’re her favorite.”

  Inside the yellow bathroom with green accents, Lulu discovered two pajama-clad boys with half-open eyes and a dog at their feet. While barely conscious, Theo and Garrison brushed their teeth with fervor.

  “What’s the dog doing in here?” Lulu asked. “And why’s he wearing pajamas?”

  “Listen, all I know is I woke up snuggling him,” Theo said with a waterfall of toothpaste coming out of his mouth. “Well, actually, Macaroni was snuggling me.”

  “Stop talking and start brushing,” Garrison instructed Lulu. “Hey, Maddie, you better get in here; we have to be down there in less than five minutes.”

  Hearing Garrison refer to her as “Maddie” buoyed her spirits, prompting Madeleine to join the others in the bathroom. Four small faces reflected in the mirror as the sound of fast-moving bristles filled the room.

  The different brushing styles clearly characterized the children’s personalities: Madeleine preferred a detailed, albeit slow, technique, cleaning each tooth front and back before continuing down the row. Lulu was more haphazard, shoving the toothbrush all around her mouth at an unproductively fast pace. In a testament to Garrison’s strength, he forcefully brushed his tongue while controlling his gag reflex. As for Theo, he reapplied toothpaste to his brush every few seconds. Apparently, he couldn’t adhere to the recommended pea-size application.

  Minutes later the messily dressed foursome sat at the dining room table, listening to the crows caw eight times. With their palms awkwardly cupped over their mouths, the students attempted to smell their own breath. Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to experience one’s own breath.

  Unsure what their second day held, a mild pulsation formed in Lulu’s left eye, the start of the twitch. She rubbed her eyes harshly, so intensely that when she opened them, spots of light interrupted her vision. Lulu turned her head toward the window and gasped. A man. An outrageously ugly man was peering through the window. Before Lulu was able to formulate words, a spot of light bounced across her vision, obstructing the man’s face.

  Unnerved by the situation, Lulu closed her eyes and counted to ten. As she neared the number ten in her mind, she became nervous of either outcome. If he was still there, sheer panic would ensue. Yet if he wasn’t, that meant she had imagined him, which was equally terrifying. She slowly opened her eyes, immediately noticing a potted plant in the exact place she had seen the mangled face. Could she have mistaken the potted plant for a man’s misshaped face?

  “I-I saw … ,” Lulu stammered before realizing how crazy she would sound. “I, um, was wondering if someone would smell my breath?”

  “No way,” Garrison responded.

  “If absolutely necessary, yes, but I would rather not,” Madeleine diplomatically responded.

  “Lean in, lady, I’ll take a sniff,” Theo offered warmly.

  “Never mind,” Lulu said while staring at Theo’s face.

  She didn’t actually want anyone to smell her breath; it was merely the first question that came to her mind.

  “What? I’m not good enough to smell your breath?”

  Lulu smirked at Theo as he mouthed the word “mean” back to her.

  “I see you’ve been informed of the morning breath tests,” Mrs. Wellington said from the hallway, sporting a seersucker sleeveless dress with a petticoat and a matching pillbox hat.

  Mrs. Wellington lapped the table once before leaning over Garrison. “Open wide,” Mrs. Wellington said calmly.

  Garrison leaned his head back and opened his mouth. He didn’t blow air in Mrs. Wellington’s face; he simply allowed the woman to smell the general area. Sweat formed on his brow as he worried that he hadn’t pushed the toothbrush back far enough on his tongue. It was a delicate job, as too much force could lead to vomit, which never helps one’s breath.

  Mrs. Wellington pulled her head away from Garrison and slowly inhaled through her nose. Time seemed to stand still as she pondered his breath much as a scientist would lab results. Finally, the old woman nodded. She then
adjusted her small seersucker hat and proceeded on to Madeleine. Although the smell of her breath could easily make it through the veil, Madeleine lifted it over her mouth. Mrs. Wellington quickly nodded and proceeded to check Lulu and Theo. Both students received the nod of approval, much to their relief.

  “Very good, contestants. Not only is a beauty queen always prepared, she also doesn’t converse with foul-breathed people,” Mrs. Wellington said as Schmidty and Macaroni entered with a platter of scrambled eggs, muffins, and orange juice. “Open wide, old man.”

  “Madame, I am not a student of this institution. I hardly think I am subject to such inspections.”

  “You may not be a contestant, but I am a beauty queen. And what do I always say?”

  “Never ask a beauty queen her age?”

  “No,” Mrs. Wellington responded curtly.

  “Always pack an extra wig?”

  “No.”

  “Match your eye shadow to your clothes?”

  “Listen here, old man, you know very well that I always say that a beauty queen doesn’t converse with foul-breathed people.”

  “If you say so, Madame.”

  “Good, now open wide.”

  “Very well, Madame. But I think you should know that I have already ordered the epitaph for your tombstone: ‘As unfailingly stylish as she was mad.’ ”

  “Dear man, are you already planning my funeral?”

  “Since the day we met.”

  “I’ve always admired your foresight.”

  Schmidty, seated at the table, used one hand to hold his comb-over in place while leaning back.