The Final Exam (7 page)

As Mrs. Wellington lobbed rotten cauliflower twice regurgitated by a guppy fish at Abernathy, Lulu explained the cost of losing to her classmates: the loser had to recall one kind memory about the winner, or eat every last ounce of rotten food off the floor.

Abernathy immediately proved a worthy opponent, ducking just in the nick of time to avoid the putrid blob
of cauliflower. He then quickly tossed a mound of rotten roe, also known as fish eggs, at Mrs. Wellington’s chest. The small green balls separated from the mass, sending a minimum of four roe directly up her nose. This incited the game’s first occurrence of projectile vomiting.

“What an absolutely barbaric sport,” Madeleine stated candidly to Theo as she shielded her eyes from the unsavory scene.

“I know. I think Lulu may have found her calling.”

Mrs. Wellington slowly lifted her head off the back of the horse before shifting into a warrior pose. With the skill and ferocity of a Viking, the old woman attacked, sending putrid kimchi with her right hand and durian fruits with her left. The result was nothing short of an atomic olfactory bomb, knocking the breath right out of Abernathy. The gray-faced man wobbled back and forth a minimum of six times before collapsing abruptly onto the AstroTurf floor.

Mrs. Wellington neither cheered nor rejoiced in her victory. On the contrary, she appeared almost pained by the sight of her debilitated stepson. As she stood over Abernathy, carefully plugging her nose, the noxious-smelling
man opened his eyes. Mrs. Wellington waited with bated breath, desperate to know what Abernathy would share.

“I’ll eat the remnants,” Abernathy declared defiantly, eradicating all sprigs of optimism from the room.

Mrs. Wellington nodded and turned to leave, then paused.

“When I was just your teacher, before you knew of my feelings for your father or his feelings for me, you told me you would never go back on your word, and to my knowledge you never have, but perhaps just this once you ought to.”

Whether Abernathy did in fact eat the remnants of rotten cauliflower, kimchi, and durian fruit will never be known by anyone other than himself. Following Mrs. Wellington’s proclamation, Schmidty and the students hurried out, desperate to wash away the slimy Greenland Fungus with a salt shower.

After thoroughly bathing in tomato juice, the sole substance capable of removing the stench of rotten food,
Abernathy set off for his first lesson in social graces. Lulu was to focus on the man’s hunched shoulders, rapidly moving eye contact, and extremely awkward body language. Beyond passing Sylvie Montgomery’s test, Lulu fretted that Abernathy’s behavior left him ripe to be recruited by a cult.

“Abernathy, it’s really important that you learn to greet Mrs. Wellington like a normal person. That means no growling, snarling, or hissing,” Lulu explained calmly while seated in the classroom. “I’ve asked Theo to join us today to help with the demonstration.”

Lulu then turned toward Theo, smiled, and waved. “Hey, Theo, how are you?”

“Lulu!” Theo screamed as he engulfed the girl in a mammoth hug. “I’ve missed you so much,
friend
!”

“Get off me,” Lulu huffed, hard-heartedly pushing the boy away.

“Was that too much?”

“I said act
normal.
What part of that was
normal
?”

“I created a backstory to help me get into character. You’ve just been freed after twelve years as a prisoner in the Colombian jungle. So with that in mind, I would say my reaction was pretty normal,” Theo explained.

“We are not practicing talk-show reunions; we’re doing normal, everyday hellos,” Lulu responded. “Do you understand? Or do I need to go over the definition of ‘normal’ again?”

“Actually, that could be really helpful. Sometimes it feels like English isn’t my first language.”

“Theo, you were born and raised in New York City.”

“Or so my parents claim. I wouldn’t be surprised if Joaquin kidnapped me from the streets of Canada as a young child.”

“You do realize they speak English in Canada as well? And trust me, if Joaquin had kidnapped you, he would have returned you long ago.”

“This is the thanks I get for rescuing you from the jungles of Colombia?” Theo said, shaking his head at Lulu.

“Oh, please, everyone knows you were thrown out of the Boy Scouts. The least you could have done is made up a believable backstory,” Lulu railed at Theo as Abernathy looked on with confusion.

“I prefer the term ‘dishonorably discharged,’ ” Theo huffed. “And that whole thing was blown way out of proportion.”

“You hid food in your tent and almost got the whole troop mauled by a bear.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting a midnight snack! And how was I supposed to know bears even liked hummus?”

“What was it you wanted me to do exactly?” Abernathy asked meekly as Theo and Lulu continued to argue, having momentarily forgotten the dire and terribly overwhelming predicament School of Fear was in.

D
ays passed, lessons continued—and so did the relentless snooping of Sylvie Montgomery. On more than one occasion, Schmidty caught her swimming in the birdbath, hiding in the azalea bush, or posing as a statue outside the front door. To say the old man was peeved was an enormous understatement—he was downright livid. Not only was this woman determined to destroy his madame’s career, she was stopping him from one of his greatest leisure activities: talking to
himself. Schmidty had long enjoyed chatting about his daily stresses and concerns while minding the gardens. But of course with a reporter on the loose, this was no longer a possibility. So in an effort to deter Sylvie from hanging around the grounds, Schmidty had begun dousing her in Casu Frazigu. Unfortunately, it turned out Sylvie was rather fond of the specialty dish.

Sensing that time was fast running out and that Sylvie’s tenacity would soon pay off, Schmidty decided to attempt hypnosis. After placing Mrs. Wellington on the drawing room couch, he dug out an old gold pocket watch. While the beautifully crafted family heirloom dated from 1803, it was hardly enough to keep Mrs. Wellington’s attention. So Schmidty taped a picture of the old woman to the piece of jewelry, knowing nothing captured her interest quite like she did.

“Madame, please follow the picture with your eyes.”

“As if I have a choice; I’m utterly ravishing! I literally can’t keep my eyes off myself!”

“As always, your modesty amazes me,” Schmidty said wryly as he continued to evenly swing the medallion. “Imagine you are walking down a staircase; picture each and every step.”

“I thought you were hypnotizing me to stop loathing Abernathy. What’s all this nonsense about stairs?”

“Madame, you and I both know you care very deeply for Abernathy.”

“That boy has been a dark cloud over my life, haunting me, torturing my every second! And yet he’s angry with me? What have I ever done to him, besides love his father?”

“Perhaps it’s best we segue into the listening section—and just to be clear,
you
are expected to listen, not
me.
”

“Is that your elaborate way of telling me to shut up?”

“Yes, Madame, it most certainly is,” Schmidty said before prompting the woman to close her eyes and continue down the imaginary staircase.

Two floors down, Schmidty noticed a remarkable change in Mrs. Wellington’s breathing.

“Madame,” he whispered excitedly before hearing the definitive sound of a snore.

As Schmidty covered a slumbering Mrs. Wellington with a soft chenille blanket, Theo continued his tour de force makeover of Abernathy.

“A lot of people say you can wear pastel only near Easter, but I disagree,” Theo said confidently as he led
his student into the downstairs closet. “With your gray skin tone, soft colors will do wonders for you.”

“And you’re sure plaid and pastel go together?” Abernathy asked timidly.

“Plaid plus pastel plus fanny pack equals cool. End of discussion,” Theo stated assuredly before breaking into some awkward stretches. “And as a special bonus, for today only, you are getting a one-on-one dance session with none other than Rumpmaster Funk.”

“Let me guess—you’re Rumpmaster Funk.”

“That’s right,” Theo said as he broke into a movement that combined jumping jacks with a rogue hula hoop motion.