The Final Exam

by Gitty Daneshvari

  “Mrs. Wellington, you can either accept us as your and Abernathy’s teachers or lose everything you’ve worked for; the choice is yours,” Madeleine stated firmly.

  After a few seconds, the Casu Frazigu–drenched woman nodded her head in agreement. Madeleine then offered Lulu a knowing glance. The freckle-faced girl turned to Abernathy, who had once again averted his eyes.

  “Abernathy, unless you want to wind up as some circus freak being hunted by the media like Bigfoot,” Lulu said with certainty, “you need to do what we say, got it?”

  Abernathy quickly nodded his head in agreement, clearly terrified at the idea of being exploited by the press. All eyes, except Abernathy’s, then turned to Garrison for the details of the plan. Feeling an enormous amount of pressure, the tanned boy began to sweat as he did when presented with an ocean, lake, or pool view. After receiving a reassuring smile and a nod of the head from Schmidty, Garrison quickly wiped his upper lip, shook off his doubts, and rose to the occasion.

  “Let’s keep this simple,” Garrison declared. “Abernathy needs a makeover both mentally and physically, so he can appear somewhat normal. And if we can’t actually get him to forgive Mrs. Wellington, we’ll work on getting him to pretend long enough to undermine Sylvie Montgomery’s story.”

  “Celery’s worried the plan sounds a little vague,” Hyacinth squeaked sprightly.

  “Hyacinth, much like your sense of tact, I’m sure details are forthcoming,” Madeleine said coldly.

  As Hyacinth whispered animatedly into her ferret’s ear, Theo quietly muttered out of the side of his mouth, “What about the old woman?”

  “I think Lulu may have been on to something with the Styrofoam bats,” Garrison responded half-jokingly, still unsure how to handle the opposing personalities of Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy.

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Coulrophobia is the fear

  of clowns.

  Continuing in his natural role as leader, Garrison designated an area of expertise for each student. It would not be easy to smooth Abernathy’s rough edges while also mending his highly fractured relationship with Mrs. Wellington, but the students had no choice but to try. After all, Mrs. Wellington was more than a friend and teacher; she was the sole person who had ever helped them with their fears.

  Madeleine was assigned to academic tutoring, most notably world events Abernathy missed while living in the forest. The globally minded girl realized she had her work cut out for her when Abernathy mentioned the Berlin Wall and the U.S.S.R. in present tense. It appeared that while living among the trees and squirrels, far from newspapers, television, or radio, the man had missed the 1989 fall of the Berlin Wall and the 1991 dissolution of the U.S.S.R. But perhaps even more jarring than missed world events was his technological illiteracy. The gray-skinned man had never seen a cell phone or a BlackBerry, nor had he heard of the Internet.

  As for Abernathy’s physical appearance, self-proclaimed fashionista Theo demanded to be in charge of overhauling his wardrobe. Basic social skills such as eye contact and small talk fell to Lulu. While she herself lacked a great many social graces, Garrison believed her tough personality would be an asset in breaking through to Abernathy. Hyacinth was designated the man’s on-call singing partner, while Garrison was to handle sports. The athletically inclined boy held firm that all normal American males had a basic understanding of baseball, basketball, or football. Much to Theo’s annoyance, Garrison refused to add figure skating to that list.

  As for greasing the wheels of friendship between Abernathy and Mrs. Wellington, the details were much cruder, even—dare one say it?—fuzzy. The feeble plan consisted of group-therapy and hypnosis sessions led by Schmidty. While the comb-over–topped man lacked any psychological or hypnotic credentials, he offered his services, and considering the options, the students blindly accepted.

  “I don’t think we should do this without a proper plan name. Maybe ‘Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy Get Their Groove Back,’ or ‘Project Groove’ for short,” Theo said while enjoying a Casu Frazigu–free lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and green beans with Madeleine, Lulu, Garrison, Hyacinth, and Schmidty. Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy had both chosen to eat in their rooms to avoid each other.

  “Oh my gosh! Yes! We should make matching tee shirts, too,” Hyacinth said excitedly.

  “No plan name, no tee shirts. We don’t need any more distractions, got it?” Lulu responded firmly to Theo and Hyacinth.

  “If I were a police officer, I would arrest you for killing a good time,” Theo retorted dramatically.

  “Whatever. You’ll be thanking me for keeping us on track when we pull this off,” Lulu answered.

  “Schmidty, I certainly am not trying to criticize your housekeeping skills, for I understand you are both visually challenged and, well, rather mature, but have you seen the state of the windows in here?” Madeleine asked, pointing to the smudged glass.

  “Miss Madeleine, it’s Sylvie’s snout,” Schmidty said with a dejected sigh. “She appears to have pressed it against every window at Summerstone. It shall take me years to clean them all.”

  “Or you could die first?” Hyacinth added. “That’s the upside to death: no more cleaning.”

  “Again, Miss Hyacinth, thank you for those inspiring words,” Schmidty responded sarcastically.

  “I know that you’re old, but as you have been told, call me Hyhy! Call me Hyhy!” Hyacinth sang atrociously.

  “I’m pretty sure my ears just tried to kill themselves,” Lulu deadpanned to Hyacinth.

  “I’m totally fine with your joke, but Celery says to watch it, or she’ll chew your face off while you sleep,” Hyacinth shot back with her usual perky smile.

  “I think you should remind your ferret that Theo may be a vegetarian, but I’m not,” Lulu replied before breaking into a most disturbing grin.

  Shortly after lunch Madeleine arranged her tutoring station in the Fearnasium. Nestled between life-size clowns who cackled when their noses were squeezed and an extensive collection of animal skulls, Madeleine set up a small table and chairs. Once seated, she noticed a mobile of Chihuahuas dangling directly above her. It was an adorable visual, clearly left over from a student suffering from a fear of small dogs, also known as microcynophobia. And while Madeleine would normally have performed a closer inspection of the miniatures, she was already far too preoccupied with her role as educator.

  “Abernathy, I am going to begin with a few simple facts regarding today’s world leaders. Please repeat after me: Barack Obama is the president of the United States of America.”

  “Barack Obama is the president of the United States of America.”

  Madeleine smiled, already pleased with herself, and now with her pupil.

  “David Cameron is the prime minister of the United Kingdom.”

  “David Cameron is the prime minister of the United Kingdom.”

  “Nicolas Sarkozy is the president of France.”

  “Mrs. Wellington is the destroyer of children’s dreams.”

  “Abernathy!” Madeleine gasped and pulled down on her shower cap in shock.

  “What?” the man asked softly. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I most certainly did not say that!”

  “But you wanted to…”

  “I did not! Mrs. Wellington does not destroy children’s dreams; on the contrary, she helps us achieve our dreams. Perhaps her tactics are a bit unorthodox, at times even illegal, but you must believe me, she can help you. If not for that woman, I would still be dressed in a veil and a belt of repellents.”

  Suddenly a voice erupted from one of the clowns, causing both Abernathy and Madeleine to squeal with fright.

  “Maddie, Maddie, Maddie.”

  Madeleine quickly recognized the voice as Theo’s, prompting her to sigh with extreme annoyance. The boy awkwardly pushed his way out from behind the clown, accidentally squeezing its nose in the process, setting off a terribly wicked cackle. So grim and evil
was the sound that all present developed a slight touch of coulrophobia.

  “Madeleine,” Theo said, strutting with a great deal of misplaced bravado, “not that I was eavesdropping, but remember, a hall monitor is always on duty.”

  “I highly doubt that spying is part of your official hall-monitor duties,” Madeleine replied with visible irritation.

  “Talking about your lack of a veil while wearing a shower cap isn’t the best line of reasoning,” Theo said, playing awkwardly with the sash across his chest.

  “I disagree wholeheartedly. Relapse is a well-known part of recovery. Plus, I cannot believe that you would say anything about my cap, knowing what I went through with that ghastly Balinese spider!”

  Abernathy watched Theo and Madeleine with great attention; it had been a long time since he had seen people argue up close. He forgot how engaging other people’s problems could be. It reminded him a bit of watching television. Of course, the last time Abernathy watched TV there were only ten channels, and they were all black-and-white.

  “Someone call NASA—your spider scar is glowing,” Theo said animatedly while looking at the now-red indentation on Madeleine’s forehead.

  “It’s like a spider stencil,” Abernathy said softly, utterly transfixed by the mark.

  The mere reminder of the arachnid roadkill sent Madeleine rushing out of the room, on the brink of vomiting. The girl had always had a sensitive stomach where spiders and insects were concerned.

  “Was it something I said?” Abernathy asked meekly as the Fearnasium door clanged shut.

  “Yeah, probably,” Theo said absentmindedly as he realized the great opportunity that had just presented itself. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mrs. Wellington faked her own death? It was amazing!”

  “That does sound amazing—well, except for the fake part,” Abernathy responded eerily.

  Theo looked around the Fearnasium, from clowns to reptile heads to turn-of-the-century needles, and felt a shiver run up his spine.

  “Before I rethink the whole ‘I’m not afraid to be alone with you’ stance, please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’m kidding,” Abernathy said unconvincingly.

  “Okay, good. Because if there is one thing I don’t like in a friend, it’s homicidal urges,” Theo explained, wiping his brow. “As I was saying, most teachers would never bother to fake their own deaths to get a bunch of kids to confront their fears. Of course, there are some sound reasons for that. After all, I was pretty traumatized by the experience; I barely spoke or ate for twenty-four hours…” Theo trailed off before catching sight of Abernathy’s horrified expression.

  “Can you just forget I said anything?” Theo asked Abernathy with raised eyebrows.

  It appeared there was a bit more to teaching than either Madeleine or Theo had expected.

  That night at dinner Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy were seated as far away from each other as possible while still actually being in the same room. While no food was thrown, there was palpable tension in the air. After exactly thirteen minutes of silence, Abernathy looked up at Mrs. Wellington and growled.

  “Oh, save it for the coyotes, nature boy! That doesn’t scare me!”

  “Are there coyotes up here? A little warning would have been nice,” Theo said, his mouth full of food.

  “You’re so ugly you give me a stomachache,” Abernathy said awkwardly to Mrs. Wellington, stumbling over his words.

  “Actually, that’s probably the Casu Frazigu,” Theo responded, his mouth still full of food.

  “Unless someone’s hair is on fire or Sylvie is at the window, do not speak with food in your mouth,” Lulu said strictly. “You’re on the verge of ruining my appetite… like, forever.”

  “Abernathy,” Garrison said nicely, “if your comebacks were a baseball team, they would be the Pittsburgh Pirates. And that is not a good thing. I think you need a comeback intervention; maybe we can even do a joint one with you and Theo.”

  Mrs. Wellington narrowed her eyes at Garrison and whispered, “Judas.” Luckily, Garrison hadn’t a clue that Judas was the apostle who betrayed Jesus. As a matter of fact, Garrison didn’t realize she’d said Judas. From his perspective he was rather certain she had said “nudist.” Of course, he hadn’t a clue what that meant, either.

  “Excuse me,” Theo said after carefully swallowing all his food. “Gary, did it ever occur to you that Abernathy and I have trouble stringing together biting comebacks because we’re so kind? I mean, my heart is basically made of chocolate, i.e., the sweetest thing on earth.”

  Hyacinth leaned close to her ferret and listened, nodding her head. “Celery says you need an anatomy lesson because it’s not your heart that’s made of chocolate, but your stomach and thighs…”

  “That was below the belt. And I mean that both literally and figuratively,” Theo said dramatically, banging his fists on the table.

  “She once hit me with a belt,” Abernathy mumbled, staring meanly at Mrs. Wellington.

  “What?” Lulu gasped. “That is just plain wrong.”

  “It was an imaginary belt!” Mrs. Wellington snapped defensively.

  “It still hurt!”

  “Oh, really? I doubt it hurt more than being arrested at the altar after my future stepson told the FBI I was responsible for the Kennedy assassination!”

  “I warned you not to go through with the wedding! We were happy before you! You made me break my promise! You ruined everything!” Abernathy screamed before storming out of the room, his gray face now red with anger.

  “What promise is he referring to?” Madeleine inquired sensibly.

  “Oh, who knows? The man is straight out of a straitjacket! Completely nutty!” Mrs. Wellington snapped with blood-red lips.

  “Celery thinks we’re in a lot of trouble,” Hyacinth added with her usual peppy smile as the others digested the prickly situation.

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Lulu admitted quietly to herself, “but Celery’s right.”

  Early the next morning, with dawn breaking outside, Lulu woke from a ghastly nightmare of being buried alive. The young girl had been locked in a wooden coffin, lowered six feet beneath the ground, and covered in pounds of dirt. In the midst of clawing at the box, splinters ravaging her hands, Lulu was jolted back to consciousness. Almost immediately, thoughts of elevators, bathrooms without windows, and underground parking garages crept into her mind. In order to avoid such places indefinitely, she would have to move to a remote corner of the world.

  As Lulu felt herself regress emotionally, a highly derogatory chorus echoed through the bedroom. Already mired in frustration, the strawberry blond threw back her comforter and dashed across the hall to the spare room.

  “The old lady in the wig is a pig, she’s grim and dim and full of sin!” Abernathy and Hyacinth sang cheerfully in the extra bedroom.

  “Hyacinth!” Lulu barked. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be helping the team, not hurting us!”

  “Don’t be mad, bossy bestie! It was Abernathy’s idea. I wasn’t so sure, but then he convinced Celery, and you know how hard it is to say no to a ferret with a harmonica.”

  “Wait a minute,” Theo interrupted from behind Lulu in the upstairs hall. “Are you saying Celery can play the harmonica? I may be interested in starting a band with you guys, although I’ll have to insist on top billing.”

  “Celery says dream on, Fatty.”

  “Theo! Stay focused! We are on the verge of losing everything, or haven’t you noticed?” Lulu shrieked before stomping back to the girls’ room and slamming the door.

  Shrouded in embarrassment after being publicly chastised, Theo returned to the boys’ room, where he promptly laid out his clothes: plaid shorts, a pastel polo shirt, and his trusty fanny pack. However, upon the removal of his pajama top, Theo froze. While not intuitive or even terribly perceptive, the boy felt something was amiss; he just didn’t know what it was….

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

&
nbsp; Pocrescophobia is the fear

  of gaining weight.

  I’m finished!” Theo shrieked to Schmidty as he stormed into the dining room. “Destroyed! Ruined! Obliterated! Demolished—”

  “Yes,” Schmidty interrupted. “I’m quite sure I get the point.”

  “Sylvie Montgomery’s annihilated my career!”

  “But you’re only thirteen; you haven’t got a career. To my knowledge you’ve never even been hired to babysit.”

  “Um, hello? I’m a hall monitor, only the most important job at my school. Okay, maybe not the most important job at school, but definitely the most important job in the hallway.”

  “Of course.” Schmidty nodded patronizingly. “A most significant position. However, I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with Sylvie Montgomery.”

  “She was hiding in the tree outside my room and she snapped a topless photo of me. My career’s finished!”

  “But Mister Theo, you’re a boy.”

  “You don’t understand. No one at school knows I’ve got a tummy,” Theo said as he pointed to his protruding midsection.

  “Unless you’ve transferred to the Stevie Wonder School for the Visually Impaired, I assure you, they know,” Schmidty stated categorically, looking at the boy’s bulging belly.

  “There’s a little more to the story,” Theo admitted meekly. “I’ve been wearing a girdle. I had no choice; no one likes fat people in power!”

  “Mister Theo, some of the greatest politicians of our time have had large stomachs. Why, just think of Winston Churchill. And for the record, I’ve always found tummies rather distinguished,” Schmidty added, pulling his polyester pants over the behemoth mass known as his stomach.

  “Schmidty, I’m worried,” Theo said quietly. “I don’t know if we’re going to be able to do this. Abernathy, Sylvie, and Mrs. Wellington are each so impossible.”