“Remember, bad breath is a sign that bacteria is still present, and trust me, bacteria is no present.”
With a saccharine smile, Mrs. Wellington sniffed the inside of Schmidty’s mouth and nodded.
“See how much you’ve already learned!” Mrs. Wellington said.
“What? To brush our teeth?” Lulu asked sarcastically.
“I am sorry to interrupt, but I think I should call my family to check in. A lot of terrible, horrible, dreadful, awful things could have transpired. So can I use the phone?”
Garrison suddenly began to perspire with worry over his white lie the night before. It was completely logical to assume the mansion had phones, so why was his heart racing?
“Of course, Chubby. You may make as many imaginary calls as you like,” Mrs. Wellington said with a smile. “I know how much contestants love to chat.”
Garrison breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing Mrs. Wellington had said imaginary calls.
“What do you mean by imaginary calls?” Garrison asked with mounting perspiration.
“There are no telephone lines on the mountain, so all calls must be kept imaginary.”
“But there are phones in the house?” Garrison spat out nervously.
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Wellington responded.
“Why do you have phones,” Theo asked, “if there are no phone lines?”
“I enjoy the appearance of a phone,” Mrs. Wellington said. “Plus occasionally I like to call myself and check in, see how I’m doing emotionally.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Garrison said while staring at the unusual old woman.
“Do you have a computer or PDA device? You know, a BlackBerry? Sidekick? Something?” Theo asked desperately.
“Absolutely not! No TVs, computers, or phones! The only modern allowances are running water and electricity, and we only have those because the former allows me to wash my wig and the latter to dry it.
“Now, then,” Mrs. Wellington said while completely ignoring the children’s glum expressions, “While you are here, I would prefer to keep you occupied and myself entertained by spending as much of our time as possible inside the Fearnasium. That is why we’re here, isn’t it, contestants?”
CHAPTER 15
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Osmophobia is the fear of smells.
After breakfast, the foursome made a quick stop at the Fearnasium for yet another imaginary exercise, before heading toward the classroom. Madeleine was a bit green again, for despite every intention not to, she had imagined large lifelike spiders all over her arm. Emotionally exhausted, she wished desperately for a pleasant distraction.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Wellington. Yesterday I believe you referred to a library. While I can’t speak for the others, I would very much enjoy the company of a book.”
“Oh yes, the library. No school is complete without a library. It’s rather conveniently located next to the classroom,” Mrs. Wellington said while pointing to a triangle-shaped door.
A shiny copper bell decorated the northernmost tip of the brown triangular door. Due to the small stature of the door, Mrs. Wellington was forced to hunch over and hold her wig as she entered.
While libraries certainly weren’t out of the ordinary in mansions as grand as Summerstone, this particular type of library was rather unusual. Instead of books neatly placed on the shelves, there were glass jars. Every shelf but one was jammed full of jars. The most potent of all the library’s contents sat alone on a bronze-plated shelf near the ceiling.
Inside the various jars were lumps, bumps, and humps of various colors from pink to black, although most resembled the color of an unripe banana, a yellowish green.
“What did you do with the books?” Theo implored after scanning the walls.
“Books? This is the Library of Smelly Foods.”
“Of what?” Lulu asked with disgust.
“Impressive, isn’t it? We have an entire wall dedicated to cheese alone. Then there’s clams, gefilte fish, rotten eggs, boiled cabbage, kimchi, sardines, durian fruit, plus all the items that have grown smelly with mold and time. You won’t believe how much a tuna sandwich from the bicentennial reeks.”
“What’s the bicentennial?” Garrison asked.
“It was the two-hundred-year anniversary of the founding of your country,” Madeleine said dreamily to Garrison. “It occurred in 1976.”
“Honestly, Garrison, she’s not even American and she knows that,” Lulu said condescendingly.
“Oh, like you knew what it was?” Garrison rebuked.
“Guys, just admit that Madeleine is smarter than both of you and move on,” Theo said earnestly.
“Smarter than us? I hope you aren’t insinuating that you are smarter than we are, Friar Tuck,” Lulu said cattily.
“Yeah,” Garrison chimed in uselessly. “Wait, who is Friar Tuck?”
“He’s Robin Hood’s fat, I mean plump, friend,” Madeleine explained.
“See, she is smarter than you guys,” Theo bellowed victoriously.
“No, she’s smarter than Garrison,” Lulu explained, “not me.”
Madeleine sighed loudly before crossing her arms angrily.
“I could wipe the floor with all of you in any sport,” Garrison said defensively.
“There should be no wiping or even touching of the floors — they are filled with bacteria,” Theo interjected.
“Shut up!” Lulu and Garrison raged in unison.
“There’s no need to yell at him,” Madeleine said calmly.
“Thank you. Finally, someone who understands me,” Theo said theatrically.
Lulu sighed with irritation while rolling her eyes.
“You know the eye muscles are like any other muscle; they get bigger when you exercise them,” Theo said.
“Because you know so much about exercise,” Lulu said rudely.
“Don’t blame me if your eyes bulge out of your head!”
“Theo, enough,” Madeleine said while spraying repellent.
“Fine, but I’ll have you know that stuff isn’t just toxic for the bugs.”
“Regret defending him yet?” Lulu asked Madeleine.
Mrs. Wellington remained utterly oblivious on the other side of the library. She was far too enraptured by the various jars to listen to the sparring children. From the tip of her nose, she inspected the finely typed label on the top of each jar. After squinting heavily, Mrs. Wellington relented and put on her tortoiseshell glasses.
“Gather round,” Mrs. Wellington said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Lulu, Garrison, Madeleine, and Theo inched closer to Mrs. Wellington to inspect the strange brown substance in the jar. Lulu stood perfectly still as her left eye pulsated and bulged with stress. Irrationally, Lulu empathized with the foreign substance, imagining herself in miniature, confined to the jar.
Mrs. Wellington tried to twist off the top. She turned and turned but nothing happened. Her face contorted and her knuckles flashed white as she battled to open the jar.
“This … is … a … tricky fellow … ,” Mrs. Wellington uttered between breaths. “It’s … all … the … gases … that … form … over … time.”
“I hope the gas isn’t flammable,” Theo said.
“Does anyone have a match?” Lulu offered snidely while staring down Theo.
“Al … most … there … ,” Mrs. Wellington huffed.
“Fire safety is nothing to laugh about, Lulu,” Theo ranted.
“Loo means toilet in England,” Madeleine offered absentmindedly.
“That is not true,” Lulu yelled at Madeleine, instantly flustering the girl behind the veil.
“I am going to call you Toilet Toilet!” Theo bellowed with laughter.
“Don’t you dare, chubs!”
Lulu pushed up her sleeves, prepared to slap Theo if he said one more thing. Madeleine lowered her head in regret, wondering why she had chosen that moment to share such information. And Garrison wondered if he should offer to help
the old woman with the jar.
“Got it!” Mrs. Wellington screamed as the top popped off.
The wretched odor exploded into the room, destroying the olfactory senses of all the students. Their eyes crossed, their knees weakened, and their throats constricted. It was the single most offensive aroma they had ever experienced; a ghastly combination of feet, cow manure, vomit, and babies’ diapers.
Mrs. Wellington appeared oblivious to the smell, while Theo dry-heaved loudly. Across Madeleine’s left and right feet were the bodies of two cats who had literally fainted from the stench. Lulu’s left eye pulsated harshly as she moved toward the door. Garrison pulled his shirt over his mouth and followed Lulu to the Great Hall.
Once in the hallway, the foursome tried to flush their nasal cavities with clean air. Theo dry-heaved again, placing his face between his knees. Madeleine stood over him, spraying herself, worried that the smell might have carried invisible organisms or spores that could burrow in her skin.
“I don’t feel so good,” Lulu mumbled. “Madeleine, will you spray some of that stuff on me? My clothes smell awful.”
Madeleine stood over Theo and Lulu and sprayed them like a farmer dusting crops. Then, the girl turned with flushed cheeks to Garrison.
“Would you care for some?”
“Sure.”
Madeleine savored the proximity to Garrison, standing closer to him than his own shadow.
“I think it works better if you stand farther back,” Garrison said.
“Oh, yes. I was trying out a new method, but it appears less effective,” Madeleine bumbled with embarrassment.
The door to the library creaked open and Mrs. Wellington exited with a cat under each arm.
“Are they okay?” Theo asked, upset at the sight of the animals.
“Of course; cats are carnivores. They love steak.”
“Steak?” Lulu asked. “That was steak?”
“Oh, yes. Sirloin steak circa 1990.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. What is the purpose of a library dedicated to smelly food?” Madeleine asked.
“That may have caused permanent damage to my esophagus,” Theo said seriously.
“Silly, silly boy,” Mrs. Wellington laughed. “And to answer your question, the Library of Smelly Foods is used to keep Schmidty in line with the Casu Frazigu. Every time he complains, claiming he can’t bear another bite of it, I bring him in here. After a few whiffs, his taste buds can’t wait to get back to the Frazigu. Plus it is rather helpful when I get a contestant terrified of dairy products.”
“I think I inhaled deadly spores from that steak. A vegetarian dying from steak — the cruel irony,” Theo blubbered from the floor.
“Dear boy, you have such an exasperating temperament,” she said with her lips darkening to an alarming shade of fuchsia, even for her.
CHAPTER 16
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Helminthophobia is the fear of being infested with worms.
All you need is fresh air. To the polo fields,” Mrs . Wellington said, leading the group down the Great Hall.
Madeleine simply wasn’t prepared to brave the polo fields. With tears brimming in her eyes, she caught up with Mrs. Wellington and grabbed the old woman’s cold hand. “Mrs. Wellington, please. I don’t want to go outside. There are spiders, insects, and such,” Madeleine explained politely, albeit with a strained voice.
“Outside? Dear, don’t be so narrow-minded. Not all polo fields are outside.”
“Then how’s the air going to be fresh?” Theo mumbled quietly to himself.
Mrs. Wellington proceeded down the hall with Lulu, Theo, and Madeleine trailing behind her.
Garrison, further behind everyone, scrutinized the doors along the way. He ran his fingers across a standard sized wooden door, forgettable in every way except touch. Instead of sleek wood, Garrison felt the tight weave of a painter’s canvas. It wasn’t a door at all, but rather a painting of a door. The crevices and indentations of the wood were mere shades of paint tricking the eye.
“What’s with the painting, Mrs. Wellington?”
The old woman stopped walking, as always in unison with the clock, some ten feet ahead of him. She turned and stared into his tan little face. The hall became uncomfortably quiet except for the clock and Madeleine’s repellent spray.
“Did you think it was a real door?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s really only a painting of a door. Contestant Garrison, please tell me what you think that means in thirty seconds or less.”
“That you ran out of doors?” Garrison said oafishly.
“You have much work to do on your elocution skills. All contestants should be prepared to answer questions intelligently in thirty seconds or less.”
From behind Mrs. Wellington came Madeleine’s proper British voice: “Mrs. Wellington? If I may, I believe the door represents that things aren’t always as they seem. On occasion, it’s necessary to inspect things, or people, a bit closer,” she explained while staring directly at Garrison.
Mrs. Wellington nodded approvingly at Madeleine.
“I thought we were going to the polo field?” Lulu interrupted.
“A reminder to all, don’t stand behind the horses; it’s very dangerous,” Theo said seriously. “My mom knows a woman who was kicked in the face by her horse. Her head swelled big as a basketball. After that she couldn’t remember anyone’s name, called everyone ‘what’s her name,’ even herself.”
“Yeah, right,” Lulu said incredulously.
“It’s true,” Theo bellyached, “I met her at the Christmas party. She said ‘hello, I’m what’s her name. Pleasure to meet you.’ All because she walked behind a horse. If only I had been there to warn her,” Theo finished spectacularly.
“Excuse me, Cowboy Chubs? Are you finished?” Mrs. Wellington asked exasperatedly while standing in front of the red and white gate.
The latch on the polo field gate was dated and rusty, seemingly from years of exposure. The lock squealed and grunted its way out of the corroded slot. Theo bit his lip, ruing the decision to remove the tetanus shot from his first-aid kit. The school nurse had claimed that rust didn’t cause tetanus; a cut from rust merely created an ideal habitat for bacteria to breed. Of course, in the face of rust, Theo started to second-guess the nurse.
Unable to watch Mrs. Wellington jimmy the lock, Theo turned to the partial body of a 1959 DC-8 jet lodged in the wall opposite the polo field. The red, white, and blue United Airlines logo was faded from years of wear and tear in the air. Theo pushed his face against a small circular window, steaming it up with his breath. He spotted a snack cart, inciting a rabid desire for salted peanuts. Maybe Mrs. Wellington left treats in the cart to create an authentic experience. Theo imagined hiding out on the plane eating peanuts, missing his family, and sleeping. He would much prefer that to spending time with this group of risk takers.
Mrs. Wellington finally dislodged the rusted lock, opening the polo field’s gate and releasing a wave of horse manure. Ripe and earthy, the scent prompted Madeleine, Lulu, Garrison, and Theo to wince.
“Wow, that is … ,” Garrison mumbled.
“Nasty,” Lulu finished his sentence.
“This is supposed to help us get over the steak?” Theo scoffed.
“Manure is a natural cleanser of the olfactory glands. Didn’t you know that?”
“Nope,” Lulu said glumly, revolted by the latest affront to her nose.
“That’s why perfume counters often keep a small dish of manure for clients to sniff between scents.”
“I’ve never seen that before,” Madeleine said honestly.
“Don’t feel bad; that’s why you’re here. To learn,” Mrs. Wellington responded as she femininely sashayed onto the field.
It was approximately the size of half a football field with eight oddly tranquil horses standing in the center. Murals of rolling hills and white clapboard fences surrounded the abnormally green lawn wh
ile sunlight poured through the plate-glass ceiling. Although seemingly pastoral, it was also curiously creepy. Madeleine remained close to the door. Having inspected the grass visually, she then did something extremely out of character. Madeleine touched the grass.
“Mrs. Wellington, is the grass artificial?”
“It’s AstroTurf, dear. The next best thing to the real stuff.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mrs. Wellington,” Madeleine said assuredly, “it’s far superior. Bugs can’t live in plastic grass!”
“Are you starving these poor horses? No wonder they’re so tired. Look at them, they’re barely moving,” Theo exclaimed.
“Barely moving?” Mrs. Wellington responded. “Theo, they’re not moving at all. They’re dead.”
“Did you kill them?” Theo asked with his lower lip quivering.
“Kill them? Heavens no. I simply had them stuffed. Good job too — you can still ride them.”
“Then how did they die?”
“A strange mold on their hay. It was devastating. I was heartbroken at the idea of life without them, so I built the polo field.”
“This mold you mentioned, did you find the origin of it? Is it toxic to humans as well?”
“Theo, please don’t concern yourself with that. To the best of my knowledge, Schmidty never cooks with hay,” Mrs. Wellington said before pausing to glance at the ceiling, as if to think it over.
Meanwhile, Madeleine stopped spraying herself, instead focusing on the horses in the room.
“Not to be nosy, Mrs. Wellington, but were the horses’ coats treated for insects and other organisms?” Madeleine asked.
“Of course!”
Relieved, Madeleine turned to explore her new surroundings. Mrs. Wellington then shook her head and mouthed “no” to the other students.
Lulu, Garrison, and Theo couldn’t help but wonder what else she had fibbed about.
CHAPTER 17
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Mastigophobia is the fear of punishment.
The following morning Lulu, Madeleine, Theo, and Garrison cautiously settled into their silver desks and prepared for Mrs. Wellington’s lesson. The night before the four children had discussed how they might escape from the school, but in the absence of any good ideas, they went to sleep, hoping the next day would bring better luck. The fact that the day was beginning in the classroom rather than the Fearnasium or any other crazy room in the house was a start.
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