“Smelly feet,” Mrs. Bass said, wrinkling her nose. “Ew, gross.”
“I’m afraid I cannot take off my running shoes,” Coach Genghis said, taking a step toward the door. “I need them.”
“Need them?” Nero asked. “For what?”
Coach Genghis took a long, long look at the three Baudelaires and smiled a terrible, toothy grin. “For running, of course,” he said, and ran out the door.
The orphans were startled for a moment, not only because he had started running so suddenly but also because it seemed like he had given up so easily. After his long, elaborate plan—disguising himself as a gym teacher, forcing the Baudelaires to run laps, getting them expelled—he was suddenly racing across the lawn without even glancing back at the children he’d been chasing for such a long time. The Baudelaires stepped out of the Orphans Shack, and Coach Genghis turned back to sneer at them.
“Don’t think I’ve given up on you, orphans!” he called to them. “But in the meantime, I have two little prisoners with a very nice fortune of their own!”
He began to run again, but not before pointing a bony finger across the lawn. The Baudelaires gasped. At the far end of Prufrock Prep, they saw a long, black car with dark smoke billowing out of its exhaust pipes. But the children were not gasping at air pollution. The two cafeteria workers were walking toward the car, but they had taken off their metal masks at last, and the three youngsters could see that they were the two powder-faced women who were comrades of Count Olaf’s. But this was not what the children were gasping at either, although it was a surprising and distressing turn of events. What they were gasping at was what each of the women was dragging toward the car. Each powder-faced woman was dragging one of the Quagmire triplets, who were struggling desperately to get away.
“Put them in the back seat!” Genghis called. “I’ll drive! Hurry!”
“What in the world is Coach Genghis doing with those children?” Mr. Poe asked, frowning.
The Baudelaires did not even turn to Mr. Poe to try and explain. After all their S.O.R.E. training sessions, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny found that their leg muscles could respond instantly if they wanted to run. And the Baudelaire orphans had never wanted to run more than they did now.
“After them!” Violet cried, and the children went after them. Violet ran, her hair flying wildly behind her. Klaus ran, not even bothering to drop the Quagmire notebooks. And Sunny crawled as fast as her legs and hands could carry her. Mr. Poe gave a startled cough and began running after them, and Nero, Mr. Remora, and Mrs. Bass began running after Mr. Poe. If you had been hiding behind the archway, spying on what was going on, you would have seen what looked like a strange race on the front lawn, with Coach Genghis running in front, the Baudelaire orphans right behind, and assorted adults huffing and puffing behind the children. But if you continued watching, you would have seen an exciting development in the race, a phrase which here means that the Baudelaires were gaining on Genghis. The coach had much longer legs than the Baudelaires, of course, but he had spent the last ten nights standing around blowing a whistle. The children had spent those nights running hundreds of laps around the luminous circle, and so their tiny, strong legs—and, in Sunny’s case, arms—were overcoming Genghis’s height advantage.
I hate to pause at such a suspenseful part of the story, but I feel I must intrude and give you one last warning as we reach the end of this miserable tale. You were probably thinking, as you read that the children were catching up to their enemy, that perhaps this was the time in the lives of the Baudelaire orphans when this terrible villain would finally be caught, and that perhaps the children would find some kind guardians and that Violet, Klaus, and Sunny would spend the rest of their lives in relative happiness, possibly creating the printing business that they had discussed with the Quagmires. And you are free to believe that this is how the story turns out, if you want. The last few events in this chapter of the Baudelaire orphans’ lives are incredibly unfortunate, and quite terrifying, and so if you would prefer to ignore them entirely you should put this book down now and think of a gentle ending to this horrible story. I have made a solemn promise to write the Baudelaire history exactly as it occurred, but you have made no such promise—at least as far as I know—and you do not need to endure the wretched ending of this story, and this is your very last chance to save yourself from the woeful knowledge of what happened next.
Violet was the first to reach Coach Genghis, and she stretched her arm out as far as she could, grabbing part of his turban. Turbans, you probably know, consist of just one piece of cloth, wrapped very tightly and in a complicated way around someone’s head. But Genghis had cheated, not knowing the proper way to tie a turban, because he was wearing it as a disguise and not for religious reasons. He had merely wrapped it around his head the way you might wrap a towel around yourself when getting out of the shower, so when Violet grabbed the turban, it unraveled immediately. She had been hoping that grabbing his turban would stop the coach from running, but all it did was leave her with a long piece of cloth in her hands. Coach Genghis kept running, his one eyebrow glistened with sweat over his shiny eyes.
“Look!” Mr. Poe said, who was far behind the Baudelaires but close enough to see. “Genghis has only one eyebrow, like Count Olaf!”
Sunny was the next Baudelaire to reach Genghis, and because she was crawling on the ground, she was in a perfect position to attack his shoes. Using all four of her sharp teeth, she bit one pair of his shoelaces, and then the other. The knots came undone immediately, leaving tiny, bitten pieces of shoelace on the brown lawn. Sunny had been hoping that untying his shoes would make the coach trip, but Genghis merely stepped out of his shoes and kept running. Like many disgusting people, Coach Genghis was not wearing socks, so with each step his eye tattoo glistening with sweat on his left ankle.
“Look!” Mr. Poe said, who was still too far to help but close enough to see. “Genghis has an eye tattoo, like Count Olaf! In fact, I think he is Count Olaf!”
“Of course he is!” Violet cried, holding up the unraveled turban.
“Merd!” Sunny shrieked, holding up a tiny piece of shoelace. She meant something like “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.”
Klaus, however, did not say anything. He was putting all of his energy toward running, but he was not running toward the man we can finally call by his true name, Count Olaf. Klaus was running toward the car. The powder-faced women were just shoving the Quagmires into the back seat, and he knew this might be his only chance to rescue them.
“Klaus! Klaus!” Isadora cried as he reached the car. Klaus dropped the notebooks to the ground and grabbed his friend’s hand. “Help us!”
“Hang on!” Klaus cried and began to drag Isadora back out of the car. Without a word, one of the powder-faced women leaned forward and bit Klaus’s hand, forcing him to let go of the triplet. The other powder-faced woman leaned across Isadora’s lap and began pulling the car door closed.
“No!” Klaus cried and grabbed the door handle. Back and forth, Klaus and Olaf’s associate tugged on the door, forcing it halfway open and halfway shut.
“Klaus!” Duncan cried, from behind Isadora. “Listen to me, Klaus! If anything goes wrong—”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Klaus promised, pulling on the car door as hard as he could. “You’ll be out of here in a second!”
“If anything goes wrong,” Duncan said again, “there’s something you should know. When we were researching the history of Count Olaf, we found out something dreadful!”
“We can talk about this later,” Klaus said, struggling with the door.
“Look in the notebooks!” Isadora cried. “The—” The first powder-faced woman put her hand over Isadora’s mouth so she couldn’t speak. Isadora turned her head roughly and slipped from the woman’s grasp. “The—” The powdery hand covered her mouth again.
“Hang on!” Klaus called desperately. “Hang on!”
“Look in the notebooks! V.F.D.”
Duncan screamed, but the other woman’s powdery hand covered his mouth before he could continue.
“What?” Klaus said.
Duncan shook his head vigorously and freed himself from the woman’s hand for just one moment. “V.F.D.” he managed to scream again, and that was the last Klaus heard. Count Olaf, who had been running slower without his shoes, had reached the car, and with a deafening roar, he grabbed Klaus’s hand and pried it loose from the car door. As the door slammed shut, Olaf kicked Klaus in the stomach, sending him falling to the ground and landing with a rough thump! near the Quagmire notebooks he had dropped. The villain towered over Klaus and gave him a sickening smile, then leaned down, picked up the notebooks, and tucked them under his arm.
“No!” Klaus screamed, but Count Olaf merely smiled, stepped into the front seat, and began driving away just as Violet and Sunny reached their brother.
Clutching his stomach, Klaus stood up and tried to follow his sisters, who were trying to chase the long, black car. But Olaf was driving over the speed limit and it was simply impossible, and after a few yards the Baudelaires had to stop. The Quagmire triplets climbed over the powder-faced women and began to pound on the rear window of the car. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny could not hear what the Quagmires were screaming through the glass; they only saw their desperate and terrified faces. But then the powdery hands of Olaf’s assistants grabbed them and pulled them back from the window. The faces of the Quagmire triplets faded to nothing, and the Baudelaires saw nothing more as the car pulled away.
“We have to go after them!” Violet screamed, her face streaked with tears. She turned around to face Nero and Mr. Poe, who were pausing for breath on the edge of the lawn. “We have to go after them!”
“We’ll call the police,” Mr. Poe gasped, wiping his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief. “They have an advanced computer system, too. They’ll catch him. Where’s the nearest phone, Nero?”
“You can’t use my phone, Poe!” Nero said. “You brought three terrible cheaters here, and now, thanks to you, my greatest gym teacher is gone and took two students with him! The Baudelaires are triple-expelled!”
“Now see here, Nero,” Poe said. “Be reasonable.”
The Baudelaires sunk to the brown lawn, weeping with frustration and exhaustion. They paid no attention to the argument between Vice Principal Nero and Mr. Poe, because they knew, from the prism of their experience, that by the time the adults had decided on a course of action, Count Olaf would be long gone. This time, Olaf had not merely escaped but escaped with friends of theirs, and the Baudelaires wept as they thought they might never see the triplets again. They were wrong about this, but they had no way of knowing they were wrong, and just imagining what Count Olaf might do to their dear friends made them only weep harder. Violet wept, thinking of how kind the Quagmires had been to her and her siblings upon the Baudelaires’ arrival at this dreadful academy. Klaus wept, thinking of how the Quagmires had risked their lives to help him and his sisters escape from Olaf’s clutches. And Sunny wept, thinking of the research the Quagmires had done, and the information they hadn’t had time to share with her and her siblings.
The Baudelaire orphans hung on to one another, and wept and wept while the adults argued endlessly behind them. Finally—as, I’m sorry to say, Count Olaf forced the Quagmires into puppy costumes so he could sneak them onto the airplane without anyone noticing—the Baudelaires cried themselves out and just sat on the lawn together in weary silence. They looked up at the smooth gray stone of the tombstone buildings and at the arch with “PRUFROCK PREPARATORY SCHOOL” in enormous black letters and the motto “Memento Mori” printed beneath. They looked out at the edge of the lawn, where Olaf had snatched the Quagmire notebooks. And they took long, long looks at one another. The Baudelaires remembered, as I’m sure you remembered, that in times of extreme stress one can find energy hidden in even the most exhausted areas of the body, and Violet, Klaus, and Sunny felt that energy surge through them now.
“What did Duncan shout to you?” Violet asked. “What did he shout to you from the car, about what was in the notebooks?”
“V.F.D.” Klaus said, “but I don’t know what it means.”
“Ceju,” Sunny said, which meant “We have to find out.”
The older Baudelaires looked at their sister and nodded. Sunny was right. The children had to find out the secret of V.F.D. and the dreadful thing the Quagmires had discovered. Perhaps it could help them rescue the two triplets. Perhaps it could bring Count Olaf to justice. And perhaps it could somehow make clear the mysterious and deadly way that their lives had become so unfortunate.
A morning breeze blew through the campus of Prufrock Preparatory School, rustling the brown lawn and knocking against the stone arch with the motto printed on it. “Memento Mori”—“Remember you will die.” The Baudelaire orphans looked up at the motto and vowed that before they died, they would solve this dark and complicated mystery that cast a shadow over their lives.
To My Kind Editor,
Please excuse this ridiculously fancy stationery. I am writing to you from 667 Dark Avenue, and this is the only paper available in the neighborhood. My investigation of the Baudelaire orphans’ stay in this wealthy and woeful place is finally complete—I only pray that the manuscript will reach you.
Not next Tuesday, but the Tuesday after that, purchase a first-class, one-way ticket on the second-to-last train out of the city. Instead of boarding the train, wait until it departs and climb down to the tracks to retrieve the complete summary of my investigation, entitled THE ERSATZ ELEVATOR, as well as one of Jerome’s neckties, a small photograph of Veblen Hall, a bottle of parsley soda, and the doorman’s coat, so that Mr. Helquist can properly illustrate this terrible chapter in the Baudelaires’ lives.
Remember, you are my last hope that the tales of the Baudelaire orphans can finally be told to the general public.
With all due respect,
Lemony Snicket
A Series of Unfortunate Events
THE BAD BEGINNING
THE REPTILE ROOM
THE WIDE WINDOW
THE MISERABLE MILL
THE AUSTERE ACADEMY
THE ERSATZ ELEVATOR
THE VILE VILLAGE
THE HOSTILE HOSPITAL
THE CARNIVOROUS CARNIVAL
THE SLIPPERY SLOPE
THE GRIM GROTTO
THE PENULTIMATE PERIL
Credits
Cover art © 2000 Brett Helquist
Cover © by HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
Copyright
THE AUSTERE ACADEMY
Text copyright © 2000 by Lemony Snicket
Illustrations copyright © 2000 by Brett Helquist.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub Edition August 2007 ISBN 9780061757174
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Snicket, Lemony.
The austere academy / by Lemony Snicket; illustrations by Brett Helquist.
p. cm.—(A series of unfortunate events; bk. 5)
Summary: As their outrageous misfortune continues, the Baudelaire orphans are shipped off to a miserable boarding school, where they befriend the two Quagmire triplets and find that they have been followed by the dreaded Count Olaf.
ISBN 0-06-440863-9—ISBN 0-06-028888-4 (lib. bdg.)
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
A Series of Unfortunate Events #6: The Ersatz Elevator
A Series of Unfortunate Events
BOOK the Sixth
by LEMONY SNICKET
Illustrations by Brett Helquist
Dear Reader,
If you have just picked up this book, then it is not too late to put it back down. Like the previous books in A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS, there is nothing to be found in these pages but misery, despair, and discomfort, and you still have time to choose something else to read.
Within the chapters of this story, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire encounter a darkened staircase, a red herring, some friends in a dire situation, three mysterious initials, a liar with an evil scheme, a secret passageway, and parsley soda.
I have sworn to write down these tales of the Baudelaire orphans so the general public will know each terrible thing that has happened to them, but if you decide to read something else instead, you will save yourself from a heapful of horror and woe.
With all due respect,
Lemony Snicket
For Beatrice—
When we met, my life began.
Soon afterward, yours ended.
CHAPTER
One
The book you are holding in your two hands right now—assuming that you are, in fact, holding this book, and that you have only two hands—is one of two books in the world that will show you the difference between the word “nervous” and the word “anxious.” The other book, of course, is the dictionary, and if I were you I would read that book instead.
Like this book, the dictionary shows you that the word “nervous” means “worried about something”—you might feel nervous, for instance, if you were served prune ice cream for dessert, because you would be worried that it would taste awful—whereas the word “anxious” means “troubled by disturbing suspense,” which you might feel if you were served a live alligator for dessert, because you would be troubled by the disturbing suspense about whether you would eat your dessert or it would eat you. But unlike this book, the dictionary also discusses words that are far more pleasant to contemplate. The word “bubble” is in the dictionary, for instance, as is the word “peacock,” the word “vacation,” and the words “the” “author’s” “execution” “has” “been” “canceled,” which make up a sentence that is always pleasant to hear. So if you were to read the dictionary, rather than this book, you could skip the parts about “nervous” and “anxious” and read about things that wouldn’t keep you up all night long, weeping and tearing out your hair.
A Series of Unfortunate Events Box: The Complete Wreck Page 48
