Pearl, still buzzing in her weakened state, began to fly toward Max in order to save him, but at this moment the cafeteria lady, who had been watching all this with her slow, lizardlike face, suddenly shot her tongue forward and swallowed Pearl whole.
“Noooo!” said Max. “Pearl!”
“Quiet now, guv,” said Algol. “Or it’s shrinky time.”
“It’s over,” said Mrs. Redflint, climbing through the hole in the Upper School wall. She was bruised and battered, but she still had a look of triumph on her face. “The test is complete. All that is left now is the final disposal of—”
But even as these words escaped Mrs. Redflint’s mouth, she suddenly found herself rising in the air. Two huge hairy paws grabbed her from behind, and a moment later she was sailing across the quadrangle like a football.
A giant creature covered with grizzly fur threw back its head and roared.
“My name is Lincoln Pugh!” it shouted. “And I am—A WEREBEAR!”
31
THE FINAL EXAM
As Lincoln Pugh roared, however, a shadow fell over the assembled warriors, and all eyes turned to the sky. The headmaster soared toward them in ever widening, descending circles, until at last he landed in their midst. His wings folded inward but still quivered above his head. The Crow looked them all in the eyes, and as his glance met each of theirs, the students—and the faculty and staff—lowered their heads. The only one who met his gaze was Falcon.
“The test is over,” he announced. “You shall all put down your weapons.”
A strange silence settled over the quad. Smoke from the cannons was still drifting across the battlefield, but as it thinned, it was possible now to see the carnage more fully: Willow lying there with a pen sticking out of her heart. Mr. Shale and Elaine Screamish both rendered mute. Dr. Ziegfield-Gruff knocked out and with a lump growing on his forehead directly between his two goat horns. Bonesy, the skeleton girl, knocked into her separate pieces by a blast from the cannon, with scapulas and clavicles and metacarpals and fibulas strewn in every direction.
The Crow looked at the hole in the Upper School wall. “We’re going to have to get that fixed,” he said.
From inside Algol’s lab coat came a tiny, furious voice. “SPARKBOLT LITTLE! BUT SPARKBOLT STILL ANGRY!”
“Falcon,” said the Crow, “would you shine that blue light of yours on Mr. Sparkbolt, please?”
Falcon looked confused. “You want me to—”
“Yes, if you would.” He turned to Algol. “So your potion finally worked, then, did it?”
“Aye,” said Algol.
“Please, Mr. Algol,” said the Crow. “Let’s get the boy back to his proper size, shall we? Bring him out.”
Algol pulled Sparkbolt out of his pocket and held him in his palm.
“Falcon?” said the Crow.
“Sparkbolt—friend!” said Falcon, and the blue light shone from his eye and enveloped the tiny monster. The blue light pulsed around Sparkbolt like a soft vapor, and then all at once, the Frankenstein expanded and grew back to his proper size. Algol had to drop Sparkbolt rather quickly in order to keep his hand from being crushed. Sparkbolt looked at himself with relief.
“Sparkbolt—BIG!” he said happily. “Falcon Quinn—healer! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Heal the others, son,” said the Crow.
“The students?” said Falcon.
“All of them. The students, the teachers, everyone.”
“I’m not sure if I can—”
“Of course you can,” said the Crow. “Do it now, please.”
Falcon cast his blue eye across the carnage of Grisleigh Quad. The blue light shone from his pupil like a searchlight and restored all that it touched. Willow Wordswaste-Phinney pulled the pen out of her heart and sat up with a look of surprise. Mr. Shale and Screamy found their voices.
“I can taaaaalk!” said Screamy. “Finally!”
Mr. Shale shook his head. “Shaddap,” he said.
The Crow turned to the cafeteria lady. “Oh, and please spit the Chupakabra back up now, if you would?”
The cafeteria lady looked at the headmaster and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like you,” she said.
“The feeling is mutual,” said the Crow, “but you will produce the Chupakabra, now, or I shall have you cured into jerky.”
The cafeteria lady thought it over and stood motionlessly for what seemed like a long time. Then she belched, and Pearl shot out of her mouth.
“Alive!” shouted Pearl. “I have returned from the depths of the digestive regions of this foul spatula fart-lizard! Some supposed, perhaps, that I had been destroyed, but no! I have survived once again, for I am—¡la Chupakabra! The—”
“The famous goatsucker of Peru,” said the Crow. “Yes, we’re all impressed.” He looked at Mr. Hake. “Mr. Hake, what has happened to you?” He turned to Falcon. “Son, could you put his tentacle back on? I’m sure if you’ll do him this favor he might be persuaded to cough up Mr. Weems and Molda? And release these others?”
Mr. Hake let go of Putrude, Mortia, and Augusten Krumpet. Falcon shone his blue light upon the Kraken, and his severed tentacle was rejoined. A moment passed, and Mr. Hake just stood there, writhing with his horrible arms.
“Well?” said the Crow.
There was one more beat, and then Mr. Hake spat up Weems and Molda, who fell onto the quadrangle, covered in viscous slime. As the ghoul and the zombie got to their feet, Mrs. Redflint returned from behind the wall of the Upper School, a look of pride upon her face. The Crow turned to her. “Ah, Mrs. Redflint. You did say it was an extremely promising class, didn’t you?”
“The best in living memory,” she said.
Mr. Hake transformed from the Terrible Kraken back into his fuzzy-cardigan-wearing self. “Hello, Mr. Headmaster,” he said. “We’ve been having a busy day!”
“So I see,” said the Crow. “If you would, please, Mr. Hake, summon the bus. I think it is time to send them away now.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Hake, and he pulled a cell phone that was decorated with happy flowers and ponies out of his pocket.
“Falcon,” said the Crow, “finish with the healing. Then we’ll need to say our good-byes.”
“Say our—”
“I’m sorry,” said the Crow. “But you can understand that many of you will no longer be allowed to stay here after this day’s events.”
“Too bad,” said Merideath. A number of students who had been hurled to the outer regions of the campus, or over the wall entirely, were now returning to the quad, where most of the fallen, both students and adults, had now been healed by Falcon’s light. As they were healed, they slowly got to their feet and gathered into three loose groups, the same groups that had begun this melee many hours before. There was the group of students who had led the revolution; there was the group of teachers and staff, standing in opposition to them; and beside the teachers, the ex-monsters who had learned how to imitate humans—Merideath and the other vampires, as well as a dozen others—the ex-minotaurs, the ex-leprechauns, and the ex-weredogs, Scout and Ranger. Everyone looked a little worse for wear—except, perhaps, for the former vampire girls, who continued to look like they’d just stepped off of the cover of a teen fashion magazine, the beanies notwithstanding.
As everyone dusted themselves off, Miss Cuspid returned with Destynee, who also appeared unharmed. The nurse had a large bandage on one of her arms, from the place where Max had apparently made her bite herself.
“The beloved!” Weems shouted.
“Hi, Weems!” said Destynee. Then her eyes grew wide. “Whoa, look at Falcon Quinn! He’s an angel!”
Weems sighed. “Always, always Falcon Quinn,” he said.
The moth man walked behind Miss Cuspid, chewing on the last few threads of Lincoln Pugh’s woolen blanket.
There was a roaring from the long driveway of Castle Grisleigh. A big yellow school bus approached and stopped in front of the castle; then the bus opened its doors.
&
nbsp; “I am sorry that you have to leave us now,” said the Crow. “But you must know that we cannot do the business of the school under these circumstances. It is a difficult path that you all have chosen, and this first term at Castle Grisleigh is a test, a test to see whether you have the courage to tread this path. And I am sorry to say that some of you have failed, and failed badly.”
The Crow faced the vampire girls, as well as the other students who had learned how to pretend to be human. “So at this time we will have to say good-bye to you, ladies.” He looked at the minotaurs and the leprechauns and the weredogs and the others. “And to you as well, gentlemen. Good-bye.”
“Wait,” said Merideath. “We have to leave? What about them?”
“These students,” said the Crow, looking at Falcon and his friends, “have passed the test. You have failed.”
“Them?” said Merideath. “No! That’s not possible. We did everything you asked us! We stopped sucking blood! We learned how not to turn into bats! We wore beanies, and changed our names, and learned to use curling irons!”
“I haven’t gored anything once since I got here,” said one of the minotaurs.
“I haven’t buried an ounce of gold!” said one of the Fitzhugh brothers.
“We haven’t played fetch for weeks!” said Scout.
“Exactly,” said the Crow. “Instead, you have mastered the art of being inauthentic. So it is that we now say goodbye.” He pointed to the bus. “The bus will take you back to your old lives now. You’ve shown us what you are made of. You have proved yourself to be—jelly.”
“We were following your orders!” said Merideath.
“Well, of course it is an honorable quality to respect one’s elders and one’s superiors,” said Mrs. Redflint. “But surely there are some things that one should not surrender?”
“A sense of self,” said Mr. Hake.
“A sense of pride,” said Mr. Shale.
“Custard,” said the Crow. “That’s what you showed yourself to be. Quivering jelly, without any sense of character.”
“We asked you to change your names,” said Mrs. Redflint. “To wear these ludicrous beanies!” She chuckled. “So unattractive.”
Merideath reached up and slowly pulled the beanie off her head.
“We asked you, at every turn,” said the Crow, “not to be yourself. To pretend to be something you are not. To learn to be fakes, and phonies, and imposters. And what did you reply, when we asked you to surrender your selves? To abandon everything that makes you yourself?”
Merideath was weeping now. She muttered something softly.
“What was that?” said Mrs. Redflint. “I didn’t quite hear that.”
“I said okay,” said Merideath.
“You did,” said Mr. Hake. “Oh, yes indeedy. We asked you to abandon all those wonderful qualities that make you yourselves. And you said—okay!”
“We conformed to save our lives,” growled Scout.
“You made it rough on us,” said Ranger, and started scratching his ear. “Rough. Rough. Rough!”
“We just wanted to fit in!” cried Merideath.
Mr. Shale rolled his eyes. “Shaddap!” he said.
“A life of conformity,” said Mrs. Redflint, “is not a life.”
“There is no character,” said Mr. Shale, “in custard.”
“And so now we say good-bye, Pinky,” said Mr. Hake. “Good-bye!”
Merideath looked at him, her face turning angry now. “My name,” she said, “is Merideath!”
“Actually,” said Mr. Hake, “from now on your name is Pinky! You have lost the right to your own name, by turning your back on your true character!”
“Bye-bye, Pinky!” said Mrs. Redflint.
“This isn’t fair!” shouted Pinky, as she and the others were guided toward the school bus by Algol. “Do you know who my father is?”
“Of course we know who your father is, Pinky,” said Mrs. Redflint. “And when he was a student here, he led a revolution on the very first day! Knocked a hole in this very same wall!”
“That wall always gets broken,” said Mr. Hake. “Every year it’s the same thing.”
“I’m sure the count will be very interested to hear how you, for your part, decided instead to wear a pink and orange beanie, and learned to play hopscotch!”
“Off you go, then,” said Algol, shaking his head. “Wot a nasty creature.”
“You’re going to hear from my father!” shouted Merideath. “This isn’t the last of this!”
But then she was pushed onto the bus with the others. The driver honked the horn twice, and then the big yellow school bus drove down the long driveway. The last they heard was the voice of the girl who had called herself Pinky, wailing out the window, “Nooooooooo! My name is Merideath!”
Mrs. Redflint drew near to the remaining students. “You have all done so well!” she said.
“Wait,” said Max. “So, like—this whole thing was—some kind of stupid joke? You were, like, playing with our minds the whole time?”
“It is not a joke,” said the Crow. “To be a monster means living apart, always being on the outside. It is not a life that one can live unless one is willing to risk everything. As you, my dear students, have done.”
“But you have thrown these, our companions, into a dungeon!” shouted Pearl. “They have been swallowed by a terrible sea monster! Shrunk down to the size of mice!”
“You let me think I was insane,” roared Lincoln Pugh.
“Mr. Pugh,” said Mrs. Redflint, “until an hour ago you were insane. But now you are a werebear—and I must say, a very impressive one. Who’s a grizzly-wizzly! Who’s a grizzly-wizzly?”
Lincoln Pugh smiled as Mrs. Redflint scratched his tummy. “Aw,” he said.
“They are all impressive monsters,” said Miss Wordswaste-Phinney. “Every single one.” As she said this, she looked at Sparkbolt, who blushed.
“What about the angel?” said Mr. Shale. “I believe the angel is only half monster.”
“He is my son,” said the Crow. “And he shall stay among us. He has shown his worth.”
“He is haff monster, ja,” said Dr. Ziegfield-Gruff. “But he is haff guardian, ja? Haff guardian!!”
“Falcon Quinn has made his choice,” said the Crow. “He shall enroll in the Upper School with the others. Under my protection.”
The teachers looked cautiously at each other.
“We will defer to your judgment, of course,” said Mr. Shale. “For now.”
“Dude,” said Max to Falcon. “That’s your dad?”
Falcon nodded.
“Whoa,” said Max.
“Boys and girls,” said Mr. Hake. “This test of the first year of the Academy has brought you suffering, has brought you sorrow. But it has made you strong! And now, it is my happy duty to announce that you have all passed this test. Yes, passed! One thousand and one happiness stars for everyone! Tonight we will celebrate your graduation with a Monsters’ Bash! With glasses of Sicko Sauce flowing on every side! And music! And cake! Yes, yes! There will be cake! Hooray for cake!”
Everyone cheered and jumped up and down, and as they did, Mr. Hake transformed back once more into the Terrible Kraken and waved his rubbery, squiggly legs in every direction.
Mrs. Redflint reached into her satchel and threw dozens of marshmallows in the air.
The Crow stepped closer to Falcon, who could now hear the stopwatch ticking from around his father’s neck. “I have to go back to my tower now,” said the Crow. “But I wanted to say—” The Crow stopped, though, uncertain of his words. He reached out with his suction-cup hand and placed it on the side of Falcon’s face.
“Wait!” said Falcon. “You’re not going to—”
“No, no, Falcon,” said the Crow. “I just wanted to—” He patted Falcon’s face with the suction cup. “You come up to the tower any time you like. We’ll talk. Yes? Talk?”
“I’ll come up and see you,” said Falcon.
�
��Good,” said the Crow.
“What happened to Jonny?” said Falcon. “What did you do to him?”
“I sent him back to her,” said the Crow. “As you wished.”
Six yellow school buses now drove down the lane and stopped in the driveway of Castle Grisleigh with a loud exhalation of diesel brakes.
“I have to get back,” said the Crow. “Come to the tower. Come see me! Please…”
“Okay,” said Falcon.
“You never told me,” said the Crow, “what she looks like now. I would be glad to hear about her.” He looked embarrassed by this, and then drew himself up into his full and menacing height once more. “Not that I care. But perhaps it would do you good to speak of her. While I listen.” He flapped his wings. “Farewell for now.”
A moment later, the Crow was soaring over Falcon’s head, and swooping into an arched window above the enormous clock in the Tower of Souls.
“Boys and girls,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Some of you no doubt have wondered where the students of the Upper School have been all this time? Oh yes, I’m sure this crossed your minds as you—ah—explored—the other campus. Well, our Upper Schoolers have spent the last month on a community-service project, which they undertake every year at this time on our private resort—Monster Island. But now that you have finished with your exam, my dears, your classmates have returned. They will join us tonight, welcoming you at the Monsters’ Bash!”
The doors of the buses opened, and a moment later, scores of young monsters were disembarking. There were zombies and vampires and werefoxes; dwarves and fire giants and cyborgs. A band of leprechauns jumped off of a bus carrying guitars and fiddles. Four manta rays floated on the air on wide, rubbery wings.
“Dude,” said Max, “it’s a monster-splosion!”
A group of older zombies joined Mortia, Putrude, Crumble, and Molda, and they all embraced and gave each other high fives. A moment later they were all doing the Zombie Snap together.
Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror Page 31