School of Fear

by Gitty Daneshvari

  “This is an emergency. I need to make sure nothing has happened to my mom.”

  “Theo, nothing has happened to your mom. It’s been five minutes. She hasn’t even had enough time to pull out of the parking lot! So STOP crying,” Lulu screamed.

  “Yeah,” Garrison added, “you’re acting like such a baby. It’s pathetic.”

  Theo concentrated, desperate to stop crying so Lulu and Garrison wouldn’t attack him again, but somehow he couldn’t. The more he tried, the harder it got. Theo closed his eyes and resolved to cry.

  The weeks leading up to School of Fear had been filled with much dread and anticipation for Lulu, Madeleine, Theo, and Garrison. So it was hardly a surprise that within minutes of leaving the station, the foursome fell sound asleep. Madeleine’s veiled head bobbed forward, moving to the bumps in the road. A river of drool poured steadily from the left corner of Theo’s mouth, down his chin, and onto his shirt. Garrison’s face was pressed against the window, distorting the shape of his eyes and ears. As for Lulu, even in her sleep she managed an annoyed expression.

  High-pitched squeals forced the snoozing students awake. One by one, they parted their eyelids, uncertain what to expect. Three pudgy squirrels decorated the windshield of the stationary van. Thankfully, the furry brown creatures weren’t dead, merely a little dazed. The sheriff wasn’t concerned; in fact, he turned and winked at the students.

  “What the heck are those?” Theo screeched.

  “Nothing to worry about, just some flying squirrels.”

  “Excuse me sir, with all due respect as I am not a zoologist, I assure you that squirrels cannot fly,” Madeleine interjected.

  “Well, that’s true. I should probably call them gliding squirrels. They leap off trees and use a flap of skin between their feet and hands like a parachute, but as you can see, they don’t have the best aim. At least five squirrels crash into my van every time I drive up here. Luckily, they’re fat little guys; doesn’t hurt them much.”

  “Kind of like Theo,” Garrison mumbled under his breath.

  Theo sneered at Garrison before noticing the world outside the car. Garrison, Lulu, and Madeleine followed Theo’s stunned gaze. It was dark, as one would expect late in the evening, not the morning. Their young eyes searched for sky, even a small square, but there was none. Lulu felt a twitch behind her left eye as her breaths grew shorter and more labor-intensive.

  “Are we underground?” Lulu asked as she grabbed her eye.

  “Not at all, it’s just the vines; they block all the light.”

  Leafy vines grew from one tree-lined side of the road to the other, creating a tunnel.

  “Um, so when are we getting out of here?” Lulu asked tensely.

  “Very soon,” the sheriff reassuringly explained as he started the van up again.

  Madeleine lifted her veil and squinted to see the cobblestone road on which the van traveled. As if the thick trees, excessive vines, and lack of light weren’t creepy enough, there were loads of handmade signs warning against entering the forest.

  “What kind of vine grows like this?” Garrison asked while pushing blond locks off his tan forehead.

  “Sticky vines. They can trap a man with their sap. For a while they were mining it for superglue, but that didn’t work out very well,” the sheriff said vaguely.

  “What happened?” Madeleine asked.

  “Cost them too many men.”

  “They died?” Theo asked with fright.

  “Worse. Their hair got stuck in the vines and the men had to shave their heads. And there were some ugly heads with craters and lumps and birthmarks. A couple of their wives left them. Word got out and soon no one would come near the place, so the factory went under.”

  “And this is where the School of Fear is located? Doesn’t seem very child-friendly,” Theo tweeted nervously.

  “Don’t worry, the school’s not down here,” the sheriff answered calmly.

  The road suddenly dead-ended in a small spot of sunlight at the base of a sheer granite cliff. So smooth was the gray-specked rock that there was a hazy reflection of the car on its surface.

  “It’s on top of the mountain. The forest just surrounds it,” the sheriff said calmly.

  “What? How do we get up there? I’m not a certified rock climber,” Theo said with a touch of hyperventilation. “I know we all eventually die, but I don’t want to die climbing a mountain, especially without a cell phone.”

  “Theo, chill. I’m sure there’s stairs or something,” Lulu said hopefully. “Maybe an escalator? ’Cause I am not getting in an elevator, Sheriff. Understand?”

  “We’re here,” the sheriff said into a CB radio on the dashboard before turning to Theo and Lulu. “You have my word; there will be no rock climbing or elevator.”

  An unfamiliar noise startled the students, rattling their already raw nerves. The sound of metal grinding above their heads prompted them to gape dumbfounded at the van’s ceiling. The crunching of metal abruptly stopped, and the van lifted off the cobblestone road, jiggling the students’ every bone and muscle.

  “This can’t be happening,” Theo mumbled to himself before closing his eyes, desperate to block out the situation.

  “Almost there, guys,” the sheriff said reassuringly as the van was lowered onto the plateau.

  The first thing they saw when they opened their eyes was approximately twenty-five feet high and constructed out of splintering wood. It was the crane that had pulled them up the mountain, and frankly, it didn’t look strong enough to lift a bouquet of flowers. At the base of the crane, in a small operating booth, was an old man, a seriously old man. Maybe the oldest man in the state, or at least he looked that way from twenty feet away.

  “There must be a better way to get up here than that,” Lulu said.

  “Seriously, Sheriff, build a road!” Garrison blurted out.

  “If it ain’t broke, why fix it,” the sheriff responded.

  “Save your silly sayings for someone else. That thing is death on a hook. I felt like a fish being reeled in! Just look at that thing. When was the last time it was inspected?” Theo asked seriously. “I am making a mental note to contact the building department. Do you hear me, Sheriff?”

  The mountaintop was enclosed by a soaring stone wall, lined by eerily still crows gazing toward Farmington in the distance. Madeleine had the sensation of being on an island in the sky, far removed from anything she knew. Quietly she prayed that the high altitude and sheer cliffs kept spiders and insects at bay.

  The van passed under the stonewall arch, bringing Summerstone, in all its glory, into view. Lulu, Madeleine, Theo, and Garrison could not explain why the intricate molds of the mansion’s limestone façade or the patchy green grass intimidated them so greatly, but it did. Even the overgrown shrubs prompted the hairs on the back of their necks to stand up. While admittedly creepy and poorly maintained, the mansion retained a certain regality with its stunning architecture and vast size. A few coats of paint and a gardener would do wonders for the place.

  The sheriff slowly drove up the gravel path, allowing the children to drink in their surroundings, before stopping in front of the mansion’s formal entrance. A wooden door eight feet wide and twenty feet high with an owl cast-iron knocker added to the imposing tone. To the right and left of the door were large glass lanterns hanging from rusted gold chains.

  The old man from the crane waddled up the stairs, stopping in front of the gargantuan door. While the man’s long-expired driver’s license listed him at five foot nine, a large boil at the base of his neck brought him down to five foot five. Polyester black slacks belted below his armpits made his chest less than six inches in length. Over the years, the man’s belly had expanded, and in a vain attempt to hide it he hiked up his trousers. Even worse than the man’s fashion sense was the long wisp of gray hair that wrapped around the top of his head like a turban. If unwound, the hair would surely hang below his shoulders. It was by far the most elaborate comb-over in New Engla
nd.

  “Well, here we are, kids,” the sheriff announced from the front seat of the van.

  “Who is that weird-looking guy?” Garrison questioned the sheriff.

  “That’s Schmidty, Summerstone’s caretaker.”

  “This doesn’t look anything like the brochure,” Lulu said with irritation.

  Madeleine and Theo remained silent, but their faces mirrored Lulu’s shocked expression. Clearly all four of them had received the same brochure of beautiful, manicured grounds filled with children running and playing. This was an isolated, dark manor well past its prime.

  A stunned Lulu exited the van first, followed quickly by an alarmed Theo. He wanted to cry, but he worried that Lulu would scold him again. She was a little scary. Garrison exited, grateful that there didn’t appear to be a pool, and Madeleine remained in the car with her hands politely folded in her lap.

  Noticing her lack of movement, the sheriff stuck his head back into the van.

  “Sir, I would prefer to stay in the van. The outside looks particularly spider-friendly.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, young lady. I need to take the van back into town. But don’t worry; Schmidty’s going to take you inside now to meet your teacher.”

  Madeleine’s stomach churned wildly as she climbed over the seat and prepared to exit the van. She had to depart or the anticipation would make her vomit. Madeleine placed her right, then her left foot on the cement steps. She sprayed repellent wildly as the old man opened the front door.

  “Sheriff, before you depart, I’ll need Mac back,” Schmidty announced formally.

  “Of course, almost forgot.”

  The fat dog ambled out of the front seat and into the fog Madeleine had created. Displeased by the air quality, Macaroni released a low-level growl to clear his throat.

  “See you in six weeks, kids,” the sheriff said before waving goodbye.

  “Six weeks?” Garrison mumbled in response to the sheriff.

  None of them could imagine lasting the hour, let alone six weeks at this place.

  CHAPTER 9

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Cacophobia is the fear of ugliness.

  Summerstone’s foyer was unusually spacious with pink fleur-de-lis wallpaper peeling from the ceiling. Aside from the drooping wallpaper, the room was pristinely maintained and incredibly clean. Much to Madeleine’s relief, there wasn’t a cobweb in sight. Still, as a precaution, she sprayed a circle around her feet, causing the others to inch away. Schmidty left the children in the foyer in order to lower the sheriff off the mountain with the crane.

  The foursome stood awkwardly around an oval chestnut table with a vase of pink hydrangeas. As they surveyed the room, it was hard to ignore the far wall decorated with pictures of beauty queens with beehive hairdos, crowns, sashes, and extremely shiny teeth. Shoes clacking across a wooden floor interrupted the students’ inspection of their new surroundings. At the top of the sweeping staircase, an elderly woman in a powder blue knee-length skirt and matching jacket stood femininely with her right leg slightly bent, as if posing for a photograph.

  The woman’s clothes, like the interior of the house, dated from the mid-to-late 1950s. With four sets of eyes on her, she delicately and pretentiously sashayed down the staircase. Theo, Madeleine, Garrison, and Lulu had no way of knowing what to expect, since so far nothing had been what they’d thought it was going to be.

  As the woman approached, her sagging paper-thin skin came into focus. She had clearly invested an enormous amount of time applying makeup to hide her age. The woman had bubblegum pink lips, thick black eyeliner, fake eyelashes, and light blue eye shadow that matched her outfit. Madeleine, grateful she hadn’t lifted her veil, stared freely at the peculiar-looking woman in a brown bob wig.

  Lulu stifled laughter as she noticed tortoiseshell glasses hanging from a gold chain around the woman’s neck. Not even Lulu’s grandmother in Boca Raton wore her glasses on a chain. Trailing behind the woman as she made her grand entrance were four cats — two black and two gray. She paused in front of the students and waited for the cats. Once all the felines were down the stairs, the old woman began.

  “Hello, I am Mrs. Wellington, your teacher, headmistress, and all-around center of the universe at School of Fear,” she said in a haughty tone. “I assume you have already met Schmidty, the groundskeeper slash cook slash office assistant. He’s nearly blind, so if you make a snide face at him, he’ll hardly notice. As for Mac, he’s still recovering from the death of his partner, Cheese, so be kind. I should add that only Schmidty and I are to call him Mac; he’s Macaroni to you. And the cats — Fiona, Errol, Annabelle, and Ratty — are my greatest achievement, literally living proof of my teaching abilities. I trained these cats. And if I can train a cat, I can definitely train you.”

  “What have you trained them to do?” Lulu asked.

  “To behave completely untrained. Quite exemplary if I may say so myself,” Mrs. Wellington said with a cackle.

  “Are we being filmed? Is this a reality show? Our parents’ idea of a joke?” Garrison asked sincerely.

  “I didn’t think my parents even had a sense of humor,” Lulu responded honestly.

  “They don’t, dear. And the only camera in this house is a 1953 Polaroid Land Camera for which they stopped making film. So unfortunately, your dreams of national embarrassment are over. Please mourn silently,” Mrs. Wellington said while stopping in front of Lulu.

  “Name?”

  “Lulu Punchalower.”

  Mrs. Wellington nodded and sauntered over to Garrison.

  “Name?”

  “Garrison Feldman.”

  Mrs. Wellington again nodded and proceeded on to Madeleine.

  “Name?”

  “Madeleine Masterson.”

  Mrs. Wellington again nodded and turned toward Theo; however, before she could ask his name, he told her.

  “Hello, my name is Theo Bartholomew, and I was wondering if I could call my mom. I’m really concerned. What if she ran out of gas, got into a car accident, or picked up a deranged hitchhiker? I need to get to a phone as soon as possible.”

  Mrs. Wellington locked eyes with Theo, her bright pink lips turning dark crimson.

  “Wow, your lips change colors,” Theo unwisely said aloud.

  “I was born with an exceptionally high number of capillaries in my lips. They are rather wide and close to the surface, allowing those around me to see them blush, if you will, when embarrassed or, more aptly, annoyed.”

  “Are you embarrassed?” Theo asked sincerely.

  “What in Heaven’s name do I have to be embarrassed about?”

  “I don’t know, maybe your makeup,” Theo said earnestly. “All I know is, you haven’t known me long enough to be annoyed. My brothers say it takes over a year to fully comprehend how annoying I am.”

  “Clearly, I am an exceptionally fast learner as I can already tell that you are annoying, with a capital A, or maybe just a capital everything. Oh forget it; I am too annoyed to even explain how annoying you are… .”

  While Theo may have been annoying, the foursome was beginning to realize that Mrs. Wellington might be more than a tad batty.

  CHAPTER 10

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Lachanophobia is the fear of vegetables.

  Contestants, contestants, please listen,” Mrs. Wellington announced to Lulu, Theo, Madeleine, and Garrison.

  “What did you call us?” Lulu asked confrontationally.

  “Contestants. Is English not your first language, Lulu?”

  “Of course, but we’re not contestants, we’re students.”

  “Well, if you insist English is your first language, perhaps it simply isn’t your best subject, because you are definitely a contestant.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, Lulu, you most certainly are.”

  “All right, then what am I a contestant in?” Lulu asked with raised eyebrows and a self-assured smir
k.

  “In the beauty pageant of life, you silly little freckle-faced girl,” Mrs. Wellington continued as if it were the most obvious of answers.

  “Life is not a beauty pageant,” Lulu responded.

  “Then why am I wearing lipstick?”

  Lulu stared at Mrs. Wellington, dumbfounded by her rationale.

  “A beauty queen is always prepared,” Mrs. Wellington said, answering her own question, or so she thought. “Now then, you children must be famished. And a hungry contestant is soon to be a grumpy one, so leave your bags here; Schmidty will handle them after lunch. Follow me and don’t touch anything. I don’t take kindly to dirty hands,” Mrs. Wellington said as she led the students past the stairway to the start of the Great Hall.

  A wave of weakness passed through the children’s knees. They had never seen anything of such grandeur and peculiarity in all their lives. The Great Hall was at least three hundred feet long and fifteen feet wide with a high arched ceiling. Thick gold-and-white stripes decorated the walls along with elaborate black wrought-iron sconces. At the very end of the hall was a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window of a young woman adorned with a crown and sash.

  However, most notably, there was an infinite array of one-of-a-kind doors flowing from the floor to the walls to the ceiling, each distinctive in size, material, and design. A mere inch from the threshold on the floor was the first door, crafted out of an open-faced pocket watch. It ticked loudly, echoing through the expansive hall. Much as a musician does with a metronome, Mrs. Wellington aligned her steps to the tick of the secondhand. Lulu watched the old woman closely, noticing that not only did she walk to the beat of the clock, but she blinked to it.

  With her eyes still plastered to Mrs. Wellington, Lulu was the first to speak. “Um, what’s the point?”

  “What do you mean?” Mrs. Wellington asked sweetly.

  “What’s with the strange doors? Do they all lead somewhere?”

  “Everything leads somewhere. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” Mrs. Wellington said as they passed a four-by-four-foot door suspended in the middle of the wall.