The Final Exam

by Gitty Daneshvari

  “I found it!” Abernathy called out, slowly advancing toward the child-sized bunk beds with linens dating from World War II.

  “Excellent, Mister Abernathy. I shall be there in twelve to fifteen minutes,” Schmidty said as he assessed the mountain of wreckage separating the two of them.

  With his body throbbing from mental and physical exhaustion, Abernathy collapsed onto the bottom bunk. Spending time with his stepmother, surviving a plane crash, and confronting his worst fear about his father made for a terribly overwhelming day. As a matter of fact, by the time Schmidty finally found the beds, Abernathy was fast asleep. Regrettably, this meant Schmidty had to take the top bunk, a most dangerous scenario for all involved.

  While Schmidty attempted to sleep, his portly frame bowing mere inches above Abernathy, the students made their way to their subterranean sleeping quarters. The basement’s walls were lined with splintered wooden slats, rusted pipes, and clusters of wild brown and white mushrooms.

  “My throat feels funny. I think some of these mushrooms could be poisonous,” Theo whimpered, frightened, as he looked at the walls.

  “Are you sure it’s the mushrooms?” Garrison asked skeptically. “Because I don’t feel anything, and I’m breathing the same air you are.”

  “I almost died from eating a moldy mushroom once, so excuse me if I’m a little sensitive!”

  “Why would you ever eat a moldy mushroom?” Garrison asked incredulously.

  “I thought it was blue cheese… and I love blue cheese.”

  “Celery doesn’t think anyone should eat moldy food, unless of course they’re homeless and have no choice. Sadly, homelessness is a big problem in the ferret community. Ever since the economy tanked people have been leaving their ferrets to fend for themselves. And they can’t just Dumpster-dive like cats and dogs do; ferrets are total food snobs.”

  “I don’t have time to worry about homeless ferrets!” Theo lamented dramatically. “What if toxic mushroom spores stunt my development? I’m counting on a significant growth spurt to spread out my chunk!”

  “Theo,” Madeleine said firmly, “I assure you, mushroom spores will not harm you. Your fears are wholly unfounded, scientifically speaking, so please calm down.”

  “Thank you Maddie,” Theo blustered as he caught his breath.

  “Now on to more pressing issues. As I’m sure you’re aware, basements are well known hideouts for spiders, especially black widows,” Madeleine said as she surveyed the shadowy corners of the room.

  “Don’t worry, Maddie, we’ll be fine on the ground,” Garrison said feebly, once again looking over their dreary accommodations. “Of course, we’re sleeping under rusted pipes that could burst at any second, possibly drowning us to death in the basement of the Contrary Conservatory. But other than that there’s nothing to worry about…”

  “The floor is a creepy-crawly highway, and I have absolutely no intention of putting my body in the middle of it!” Madeleine exploded, clinging hysterically to her shower cap. “I’m just going to have to sleep standing up.”

  “That’s physically impossible,” Theo replied, shaking his head knowingly. “My late cat Barney tried to do it at least twice a day, and he never lasted more than a second.”

  “With all due respect for your deceased cat Barney, if a flamingo can do it, so can I!” Madeleine announced decisively.

  “This is going to be so fun! Our first bestie sleepover in a basement!” Hyacinth said elatedly.

  “It looks more like a dungeon than a basement to me,” Lulu said as her chest tightened and her left eye tickled with tension. She didn’t want to sleep in a windowless room, especially one below ground level. Panic pulsed through her body until she suddenly remembered the harrowing plane ride earlier that afternoon. Having survived such a thing had given Lulu an odd sensation, one of confidence in her abilities. If she could handle a plane the size of a bathroom, she could spend one night in a basement.

  All in all, though, it was a dreadfully fitful night for the School of Fearians. For in addition to the dingy locale, they also had to contend with Macaroni’s snoring and Celery’s chirping. It is a little-known fact that ferrets, like humans, often talk in their sleep. So it was hardly a surprise that the students awoke with bloodshot eyes and tortured expressions. Basmati, on the other hand, rose contentedly, with an extraordinary sense of purpose. Not since the abduction of Toothpaste had he bounded out of bed so quickly.

  After combing his half a mustache and half a head of hair and smoothing his one eyebrow, Basmati eagerly attended to Abernathy. Dressed in a flamboyant red sequined jacket, a nun’s wimple, a tartan kilt, and sensible white nurse’s shoes, Basmati led Mrs. Wellington’s stepson to the Court of Lawlessness. Seated at the judge’s bench, Basmati pulled two saltine crackers and a can of whipped cream from his jacket. Most curiously, he considered this to be a perfectly well-balanced breakfast.

  As Abernathy quietly chewed the last of his cracker and cream, Basmati lifted his eyebrow and cleared his throat.

  “Abernathy, I’ve been informed that you detest your stepmother, Edith Wellington,” Basmati said, speaking with the calm focus of a prosecutor questioning a defendant.

  “I despise the woman with every fiber of my being,” Abernathy screeched harshly while wiping the remnants of whipped cream from his gray cheek.

  “Murder is hard to forgive,” Basmati replied casually, rubbing the bald half of his head.

  “She killed someone?” Abernathy blurted out, utterly astonished by this new information.

  “Of course she did! Edith Wellington killed you—or haven’t you heard? That’s why you’re so furious with her; you’re dead. Dead people are always angry. But who can blame them? They’re dead!”

  “I admit that I’m a really confused man, but I’m pretty sure I’m alive.”

  “Ohhhhh, I see,” Basmati said, nodding his head to convey his understanding. “You may want to look into some blusher or bronzer; your gray skin tone can be misleading.”

  Abernathy looked uncomfortably around at the highly polished wooden walls of the courtroom, unsure how to respond to the suggestion of makeup.

  “So you’re alive, and you hate your stepmother for sending you to prison or, as I like to call it, the big house with bars and really cold metal toilets,” Basmati surmised, pursing his lips.

  “What? I’ve never been to prison! I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket! I have no idea where you are getting these ideas from. The truth is very simple: I hate her because she stole my father from me,” Abernathy clarified loudly.

  “Mrs. Wellington kidnapped him? I didn’t think she had it in her. Petty larceny, sure, but a felony?”

  “She didn’t kidnap him. She did something much worse: she married him.”

  Again Basmati nodded excessively to demonstrate his understanding. After a minimum of thirty-four quick bobs, he began maniacally twirling his one-sided mustache.

  “And after the wedding, Edith Wellington cheated on your father with an extraterrestrial?” Basmati proclaimed with astonishment. “If I hadn’t heard it directly from your mouth, I wouldn’t have believed it! What shocking behavior! Not for the extraterrestrial, but for Edith. Everyone knows aliens play fast and loose with their morals, but beauty queens? Never!”

  “This is insane; I never said she had an affair with an alien,” Abernathy exclaimed matter-of-factly.

  “Of course you did! And there is absolutely no reason to deny it; who wouldn’t be angry if their stepmother cheated on their father with a lesser species? It’s completely logical,” Basmati countered in a frighteningly resolute manner.

  “That is not why I hate her! Why won’t you listen to me? It’s because she married him!”

  “Don’t be silly! You could never be this mad at her just because she loved him; it must have something to do with her affair with the alien. It’s the only logical explanation. Well, that or the fact that she ran off with your fiancée the llama.”

  “I may have sp
ent most of my life in a forest, but I have never been engaged to a llama!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry; it was an alpaca, wasn’t it? I always get those two confused.”

  “Please listen to me: I have never been engaged to an animal! Sure, I talked to them a lot while living in the forest, but that’s as far as it went!” Abernathy spat out seriously before standing and making his way to the door.

  “This is a court of law without laws, which means you can leave whenever you want to. However, I should tell you it is still considered rude to walk away without so much as a kiss on the cheek, a wave, or simply a goodbye!”

  “Sorry,” Abernathy muttered. “Goodbye.”

  “I don’t know what that alpaca saw in him,” Basmati mumbled as the door clanged shut.

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Apotemnophobia is the fear

  of people with amputations.

  In light of the enormous time restrictions before Sylvie’s story was to go to press, the School of Fearians immediately began their mission to save Toothpaste. They started with a search of the premises, looking in every cupboard, closet, and chest for the small but chatty bird. After two hours, however, having neither heard a peep nor found a feather, they all agreed it was unlikely the bird had been stashed inside.

  “Okay, the bird’s not here, or at least not anywhere we can see, so I think it’s time we formulate some kind of plan,” Garrison said to the others, huddled in the middle of the Standing-Room-Only Sitting Room.

  “Does stopping to have a snack count as a plan?” Theo asked earnestly.

  “No!” Lulu answered decisively. “Feeding your tapeworm is just going to have to wait.”

  “That was uncalled for! You know darn well tapeworms come from eating meat! Are you implying I’m a covert carnivore? A fraudulent vegetarian?”

  “Would everyone please stop talking about tapeworms? Just the thought of one makes me feel rather green,” Madeleine said, steadying herself against the wall.

  “Totally, Mad Mad,” Hyacinth agreed. “Plus, Celery suffered a pretty traumatic loss last year when her bestie Arthur, a ground worm, was murdered by a crow right in front of her eyes. She had nightmares for, like, a week…. It was super intense.”

  “A week? That’s it? Some friend,” Theo muttered under his breath.

  “Celery says you’re in no position to judge, seeing as you once mourned the loss of a sandwich for, like, a month.”

  “They discontinued the ultimate veggie western burger! It was a major milestone in my life! And for the record, it was three and a half weeks, not a month.”

  “Enough about worms and sandwiches,” Garrison said with a frustrated sigh. “We need to find this bird so we can get out of here. I don’t know about you guys, but I really don’t want to spend another night in that basement.”

  “We could do bird calls around the yard and see if Toothpaste responds,” Madeleine suggested halfheartedly.

  “Are you expecting the canary to call out, ‘Hey, guys, I’m over here’?” Lulu asked skeptically.

  “No, but I thought he might just fly to us if he heard his name.”

  “I’m pretty sure they’re keeping him in some sort of confined space, seeing as they kidnapped him,” Lulu responded patronizingly.

  “Well, what do you suggest, Lulu?” Madeleine pushed back.

  “Why don’t we just ask them? They seem pretty dumb; they’ll probably tell us.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Theo said as he smoothed his hall-monitor sash. “I am ready when you are.”

  “Actually, I bet these guys will respond to Garrison and me better. You know, ’cause we’re cool and stuff,” Lulu stated confidently.

  “Celery thinks you have a pretty big ego, which, like a big butt, isn’t so attractive,” said Hyacinth.

  Theo and Madeleine couldn’t help but smile; never had they so agreed with anything Celery said.

  Shortly thereafter, Lulu and Garrison descended upon the extensive mishmash of gardens in search of the Contrarians. Considering the boys’ fondness for fire, they half expected to find them by following a trail of flames. However, they soon discovered that absolutely nothing was smoking, smoldering, or burning, leaving them very little to go on. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until the two leaned against a soaring elm tree to strategize that they received a sign from above, quite literally.

  “I say we hit the cacti cluster. They’re probably removing the needles to perform satanic rituals on one another,” Lulu surmised sarcastically while twirling a lock of her long strawberry blond hair.

  “We just need to keep our eyes peeled—somewhere, something is on fire,” Garrison said in response.

  “Let’s just hope it’s not Toothpaste.”

  At that moment a most unusual stick fell from the sky and bonked Lulu directly on the head. Red and curly, it was the most peculiar twig she had ever seen. Of course, that’s because it was actually a snake. And while Lulu wasn’t afraid of snakes, she didn’t like the idea of them falling from the sky.

  “Hey, can you guys grab Bard’s pet snake, Petey? He’s really attached to him,” Fitzy called out from the second-highest branch of the towering tree.

  Bard, who was pacing frantically on the branch, screamed, “Petey,” as if he were calling after a wayward dog.

  Garrison stared at the motionless red snake and realized something wasn’t quite right. It hadn’t moved, not even a centimeter, since falling from the tree. Memories of Mrs. Wellington’s taxidermied horses swept through his mind, offering a sudden flash of clarity.

  “You stuffed your snake?” Garrison said in disbelief as he picked the stiff creature up off the ground.

  “Bard says dead pets make the best pets. You don’t have to feed them or walk them or clean out their cages. You just have to remember to stuff them; otherwise they turn all black and moldy. Really, the only hard part is finding a dead one,” Fitzy rambled.

  “Speaking of pets,” Lulu said nicely, looking up at the three boys, who appeared to be rigging some sort of dubious contraption. “Where’s the bird?”

  “Want to bungee jump? It’s really fun,” Fitzy responded eagerly, totally ignoring Lulu’s question.

  “As tempting as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass,” Lulu replied. “But as I was saying, where’s the bird?”

  “What bird?” Fitzy answered distractedly.

  “You know what bird,” Lulu shot back.

  “Big Bird? Toucan Sam? I don’t think I know any other birds. Wait, is Tinker Bell a bird? She flies and has wings, but she doesn’t have a beak,” Fitzy pondered seriously.

  “We’re talking about Toothpaste the canary!” Garrison exploded. “Where is he?”

  “Toothpaste! Man, I almost forgot about him,” Fitzy said, shaking his head. “That little dude sure can talk.”

  “Where is he?” Lulu pressed on impatiently. “Just tell us where you stashed Toothpaste!”

  “Why does Basmati call him Toothpaste? It’s such a stupid name. Dental Floss would be way cooler,” Fitzy mused aloud, once again ignoring everything Lulu had said.

  “Dental Floss! Dental Floss!” Bard and Herman called out before returning to building their contraption.

  “You guys better not have stuffed him!” Lulu yelled before turning back to Garrison.

  The two exchanged a knowing look; they clearly needed a better plan. Mature tactics, such as talking, obviously held very little weight with these boys. Both Lulu and Garrison felt disappointed; they had been hoping for a speedy resolution. Between their own fears and Sylvie, there was more than enough on their plates; adding a kidnapped bird to their agenda felt downright overwhelming. Shuffling gloomily away from the tree, Lulu and Garrison were greeted by Hyacinth, who was dressed in a pink pantsuit with Celery perched stoically on her shoulder.

  “Besties! Besties! Have you found Toothpaste yet?”

  “Not quite,” Lulu responded curtly. “But you are more than welcome to stay and annoy the Contrarians
while we formulate a new plan.”

  “You got it, bestie. I’ve totally been wanting to bond with the Contrarians! You know how much I love making new besties,” Hyacinth said excitedly, holding up her hand for a high five.

  Garrison and Lulu ignored the young girl’s hand and headed back toward the Contrary Conservatory. Determined not to waste a perfectly good high five, Hyacinth carefully pushed her hand against Celery’s small paw.

  “Hey, Fitzy! Bard! Herman! It’s me, Hyhy, your new bestie! That’s short for ‘best friend.’ But you guys probably already know that, since it looks like you are a besties trio,” Hyacinth babbled as she focused in on the strange contraption they were rigging. “What are you doing with all that rope?”

  “We’re building a bungee jump,” Fitzy called down proudly. “Only we couldn’t find any bungee cords, so we’re using rope instead. Now that I think of it, I guess that makes it a rope jump, not a bungee jump.”

  “Rope jump! Yeah!” Bard and Herman seconded from beneath their large brown mops of hair.

  “Is that safe?” Hyacinth asked, reviewing their highly questionable engineering from her position on the ground.

  “I don’t know,” Fitzy replied nonchalantly.

  “So how exactly does the whole thing work?”

  “We tie the rope to your legs, you jump, and then you bounce. Pretty cool, right?”

  “Hold on a second,” Hyacinth said, leaning closer to the ferret. “Celery would like to be the first ferret to ever bungee jump. She’s been looking for a way into the Guinness World Records and she thinks this might be her best shot. It’s either bungee jump or try out for Dancing with the Stars again. But honestly, bestie to bestie, I don’t think Dancing with the Stars is going to happen. They’re clearly ferretists, maybe even rodentists.”

  “Wait, so you want your ferret to bungee jump?” Fitzy asked, clearly confused by Hyacinth’s ramblings on the anti-rodent position of Dancing with the Stars.