Class Is Not Dismissed! Page 8

“Oh, I could definitely imagine something worse, but then again, that’s my personality.”

  Lulu and Garrison stared at Theo with frustration. The boy lacked all social graces.

  “That was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?” he said. “I really hate those.”

  Theo and Hyacinth were nominated to keep Madeleine calm while Lulu and Garrison checked on Mrs. Wellington and Schmidty, who were packing the essentials for the journey to Boston. Madeleine didn’t care that they were going to Boston; she only cared that she was leaving Summerstone. This was especially true now that she had convinced herself that the spiders and beetles were crossbreeding. The girl was absolutely certain that beeders or spidles would be hatching any second now.

  Lulu and Garrison stormed into the foyer, eyes rapidly scanning the walls for spiders or beetles. Initially Summerstone’s interior appeared utterly devoid of both the furry-legged beasts and their hard-shelled friends. It was only after Lulu noticed an earring moving on one of the pageant photos that she realized the enormity of the situation. Two beetles had rather astutely hidden in plain sight, each suctioning itself to Mrs. Wellington’s photographed earlobes. How the beetles knew to do such things could be explained in only one way: the Bulgarian beetles really were the intellectuals of the Tenebrionidae family.

  “There’s a couple of beetles on the pageant photos,” Lulu said, moving closer to Garrison.

  “Look at the hydrangeas.”

  “They’re smarter than we are, or at least smarter than Theo,” Lulu said softly as she noticed a brown-and-burgundy spider crawling out from under the flowers.

  “Contestants!” Mrs. Wellington shouted while running down the stairs in a fluffy pink tutu. “We haven’t a second to spare if we’re going to make it on time.”

  Schmidty, with a valise in hand, waddled quickly after Mrs. Wellington. Oddly, the old man didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised or embarrassed by the tutu ensemble.

  “I hate to be an ageist,” Lulu said, surveying Mrs. Wellington’s ridiculous ballerina getup, “but you are way, way, way too old to wear that. So let’s spare that second and change this outfit. Stat.”

  “Oh, don’t be a pageant Neanderthal, Lulu. I’ve won more titles in this tutu than I can count. Now really, we must hurry. And Schmidty, don’t forget Macaroni and the gun.”

  “Wait a minute. What are we doing, exactly? Because I don’t think Theo’s going to be cool with a gun. And frankly, neither am I,” Garrison added. “Surfers are all about peace, remember?”

  “Mister Garrison, it’s a flare gun, to signal the sheriff to get us at the bottom of the hill,” Schmidty said as he flung open Summerstone’s heavy front door. “We haven’t time to dawdle. Hurry!”

  Mrs. Wellington, Schmidty, Macaroni, Lulu, Garrison, Madeleine, Theo, and Hyacinth ran toward Summerstone’s Vertical Tram.

  “Schmidty, are we sure the SVT can handle all our weight?” Theo asked. “Because now we’ve got Wellington, Hyacinth, and that ferret. And in all honesty, I may have put on an extra pound or two in the last couple of days.”

  “It’s fine, Mister Theo. But we really must hurry.”

  “Are you all absolutely certain no spiders or beetles or crossbreeds escaped on you? Have you checked thoroughly, because should I find another bug on me, there really is no telling what I’ll do,” Madeleine stated theatrically.

  Lulu smiled nervously at Madeleine before subtly patting down her strawberry-blond locks and checking her earlobes.

  “I really hope someone brought snacks,” Theo whined. “I tend to get cranky when traveling without food.”

  CHAPTER 13

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Amaxophobia is the fear of riding in a car.

  The sheriff, dressed in his khaki uniform and a large brown hat, leaned against a beat-up white van at the base of Summerstone. Until awfully recently, the van had been dragged up and down the mountain by a rickety wooden crane. Thankfully for all involved, the SVT was now in place. (Although watching the tram sputter and rattle down the mountain was not the most reassuring of sights.)

  Not surprisingly, Lulu positioned herself to be first off the tram. Once out, the young girl immediately hunched over to regain her composure. The ride down the mountain had been a long and painful affair. Never mind that it was only four minutes; it felt like hours to Lulu. As the young girl breathed deeply, Theo performed a series of stretches, much to the sheriff’s amusement.

  “My age is really starting to catch up with me,” Theo said with a sigh. “I’m pretty sure I pulled a muscle on the ride down. Those little bumps against the mountain sure can hurt a man.”

  Unsure how to respond, the sheriff simply tipped his hat to the frenetically moving boy. Theo was instantly taken with the gesture and vowed to buy himself a wide-brimmed hat for the start of school. He imagined himself trolling the halls for hooligans, wearing not only his sash but a hat. And on the occasions when he passed a highly regarded teacher, he would tip that hat. The tipping of the hat seemed far more mysterious and cooler than the full-body hug, his usual manner of greeting people.

  Schmidty, Macaroni, Hyacinth, and Celery were last to exit the SVT. Macaroni pulled hard on his leash in an attempt to get as far away as possible from Celery. The dog had developed a very understandable fear of ferrets after Celery had chewed one of his nails before climbing into Theo’s mouth. Truth be told, so traumatic had the experience been that Macaroni was even looking at squirrels in a new light.

  “Quick, Sheriff! We haven’t time to chat,” Mrs. Wellington insisted as she jumped into the front seat of the van.

  “She could at least have asked; some of us may get carsick,” Theo mumbled under his breath while getting into the backseat of the van. “Some people…”

  As soon as the sheriff heard the last seat belt click, he started down the shadowy cobblestone road. The diverse assortment of passengers in the van fell into a peculiar silence. Perhaps it was the proximity of the forest, or the lack of light from the heavy growth of sticky vines, or even Macaroni’s breath. Regardless of the cause, the only notable sound was that of the tires traversing the cobblestones.

  The van rounded the last curve, bringing the edge of the forest into view. The sunlight burned bright outside the woods, creating an actual light at the end of the tunnel. As the van continued toward town, Theo cleared his throat loudly. After a few seconds the entire vanload, barring the sheriff, was looking at him with exasperation.

  “Well, since I have your attention, I thought we could set a few ground rules,” Theo said while attempting to pull his sash out from under his sweater.

  “Stop moving, Theo.” Garrison reprimanded the boy harshly.

  “My apologies that you cannot see my hall monitor sash at the present time. As you may know, I am very focused on rules. Rules help everyone. Society needs rules, and so do we. Can we agree that rule number one is no fake dying?”

  “Dying?” Hyacinth asked, intrigued.

  “Fake dying,” Theo corrected.

  “Celery wants to know who is going to fake die.”

  “Last summer Mrs. Wellington pretended to die, and I want to make sure that no one else is planning on having a fake death.”

  “So if you die, it won’t be fake?” Hyacinth concluded.

  “Exactly,” Theo said quickly. “Wait, I am not dying.”

  Hyacinth then leaned toward the ferret and nodded her head a few times.

  “Does Celery think I am going to die?”

  Hyacinth merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Oh, no, is Celery psychic?”

  “Theo, what is wrong with you?” Lulu said impatiently.

  “Lulu, animals can sense these things. Must I remind you about the cat that lived in the nursing home? He went to the patients’ beds a couple of hours before they died, and then he would just sit there and wait for them to pass. What if Celery is like that cat?”

  “Let’s think about this rationally. What are the odds tha
t Celery is a psychic ferret who can predict your death?” Lulu said with a sneer. “I would say about one in a billion.”

  “I’m feeling a little dizzy,” Theo said dramatically. “Maybe it’s a brain tumor.”

  “Seriously, Theo, relax,” Garrison added before shaking his head at the dramatic boy. “Maybe we need to add a rule about melodrama too…”

  “I just remembered something… horrible. That cat… her name was Peanut Butter… like peanut butter on celery… do you see the connection? Two foods that go well together. This is a sign. I’m doomed.”

  “The cat’s name was Oscar,” Lulu said with annoyance. “Like Oscar Mayer hot dogs.”

  “Thank heavens I’m a vegetarian. No food symbolism there. Talk about a close call.”

  Bored by Theo’s descent into madness, Hyacinth turned to look out the window. In the distance the roofs of the Main Street shops, the dome of the bus station, and clusters of houses could now be seen. The van sped past farmhouses and old barns before turning onto Farmington’s idyllic Main Street. Much as one might expect from a postcard or propaganda film, families were strolling down Main Street licking ice cream cones and laughing. It was such a foreign sight to Hyacinth that she lifted Celery to the window. Of course, ferrets are not known for farsightedness, so Celery missed the entire thing.

  The second the sheriff pulled up in front of the station, he nodded to Schmidty, took off his seat belt, and jumped out of the van. Even as he walked toward the station, he took the time to tip his hat to each passing family. Theo, of course, made a mental note of how well the hat gesture was received by the townsfolk.

  Mrs. Wellington jumped into the driver’s place as Schmidty zipped into the front passenger seat.

  “Wait a second,” Theo said loudly. “You are driving us to Boston?”

  “Well, I certainly can’t let Schmidty drive; his stomach won’t fit behind the wheel.”

  “And he’s legally blind,” Lulu added.

  “Oh, stop that. It’s all in his head. Men at his age simply want the attention. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him except his comb-over.”

  “Why can’t the sheriff drive us? He seems sane,” Garrison asked.

  “He’s on duty. We can’t have a law-abiding man in the car the way I need to drive.”

  “I am going to have a problem with any and all lawbreaking activities,” Theo protested. “In other words, the speed limit is to be followed. Drawing from my hall monitor experience, I suggest driving well below the speed limit. As I always say, for a safe hall it’s better to crawl.”

  “So these catchy slogans aren’t just about the environment? Lucky us,” Lulu said with an eye roll.

  Showing an unusual amount of restraint, Theo ignored Lulu and continued on with Mrs. Wellington. “Just because it says sixty-five doesn’t mean you have to do sixty-five. Personally, I think twenty-five on a highway is an optimum speed. And I am more than happy to ride shotgun to make sure nothing gets out of control.”

  “How is it that I am stuck on a car trip with Theo again?” Lulu moaned loudly.

  “Luck? Friendship? Perhaps a mixture of both?” Theo said sincerely.

  “Chubby, you are to stay out of the front seat,” Mrs. Wellington said with fire engine red lips. “I will have no delays on this journey, do you understand? I am about to face off with a rival, and not that I am worried I will lose, because, let’s be honest, that’s impossible,” Mrs. Wellington said with mounting certainty. “But if we are late, this pageant prune will tell everyone about my school!”

  “Fine, Mrs. Wellington, I will let go of the speed limit issue, but what about bathroom breaks? I was thinking every ten to fifteen minutes.”

  “Theo, there is no way you need the bathroom every ten to fifteen minutes, and if you do, we’ll drop you at a doctor,” Lulu said harshly. “Preferably a mean one.”

  “This is not about me; I am speaking as Macaroni’s advocate.”

  “Let me guess: animal advocacy is part of your hall monitor duties,” Lulu said sarcastically.

  “Maybe,” Theo lied unconvincingly.

  “I can’t believe how much fun we are having on our road trip,” Hyacinth squealed. “I only wish we had a camera to document the good times.”

  As Lulu prepared to respond to Hyacinth, Mrs. Wellington revved the engine. Without checking her mirrors or looking behind her, she slammed her foot on the gas and careened into the street, filling the van with the smell of burnt rubber.

  CHAPTER 14

  EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:

  Neophobia is the fear of anything new.

  Time check?” Mrs. Wellington barked at Schmidty as she crossed two lanes of traffic without looking.

  “You know when you’re having a nightmare and you realize it’s only a dream, and this sudden relief comes over you?” Theo whimpered. “I really want that to happen now.”

  “I said time check, Schmidty,” Mrs. Wellington roared as she barreled down Highway 90 without any regard for staying in her lane.

  “We have an hour, so Madame, might I ask you to refrain from driving in reverse on the road,” Schmidty said as he gripped the dashboard with white knuckles. “And please try to stay within the lines, or at the very least near them.”

  “Is this how all Americans drive on the motorway?” Madeleine whined. “No wonder people complain about American tourists.”

  Mrs. Wellington weaved between two large trucks before hitting the brakes, then speeding up, then hitting the brakes again.

  “Celery feels kind of carsick from all these maneuvers,” Hyacinth announced.

  “Celery’s lucky we’re still alive,” Theo said, before wiping his sweaty brow and bursting into tears. “I don’t want to die on an empty stomach!”

  “Theo,” Garrison said, leaning forward to grab his shoulders, “you need to calm down. You have your seat belt on, and the van has air bags. You’ll definitely survive.”

  “Um, I think I speak for all of us when I say we want to do more than survive. We want to avoid an accident altogether. Do you hear me, old lady in the tutu?” Lulu screamed while covering her now throbbing left eye.

  “Would it be terribly inconvenient to stop by a hardware store on the way to the pageant?” Madeleine asked. “I would love to get a proper veil and some repellents.”

  “Now is hardly the time,” Theo said to Madeleine with immense satisfaction.

  “Hey, Mrs. Wellington?” Garrison croaked as he watched the elderly woman apply lipstick in the rearview mirror. “I think you’ve forgotten something.”

  “What’s that, Sporty?”

  “That you’re driving!”

  “Oh, so I am,” Mrs. Wellington said, grabbing the wheel and jerking it abruptly in the other direction.

  The van weaved across numerous lanes of traffic, setting off a storm of honks and clouds of burning rubber. Cars literally came to a grinding halt as the van careened across the highway, perilously close to causing a pileup.

  “Ah!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Theo yelled before putting his hands over his eyes.

  “Isn’t that polite, all these drivers making room for me? Oh, and a parade’s coming!”

  “Madame, I believe that’s a police officer,” intoned Schmidty.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, there’s music.”

  “That’s the siren.”

  “The what?”

  “Pull over, Madame.”

  “We don’t have time. We are in a terrible hurry. You know you can’t be late to a pageant, especially when someone’s blackmailing you.”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid we must make time or they may arrest us.”

  “Arrest us? Absolutely not. I refuse to have my mug shot taken when my wig is in such a state!”

  “Madame,” Schmidty pressed on firmly, “you must stop.”

  Mrs. Wellington sighed loudly before slamming on the brakes.

  “Madame! No! You have to pull off the highway.”

  “Honestly, all these rules. It’s a
terrible headache of useless information. All you need to know is how to turn a key. The car does the rest.”

  “Oh, Madame,” Schmidty said, shaking his head, “so much of your life is simply… inaccurate.”

  “We haven’t time for compliments. Handle this man, and let’s get on with it,” Mrs. Wellington said as a highway patrolman knocked on her window.

  “It’s glass,” Mrs. Wellington shouted. “You can’t put your hand through it.”

  “Ma’am, I need you to roll down the window and hand me your license and registration.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Wellington said, turning to Schmidty. “Valise, please.”

  Mrs. Wellington riffled through stacks of papers and knickknacks before pulling out a large and weathered pink document.

  “Here’s my license, officer.”

  “Ma’am, this is a cosmetology license.”

  “That is most correct, but I must admit, I haven’t done a facial in years, so if you’ll excuse us, we really must get going.”

  The officer leaned back and looked into the van suspiciously.

  “Ma’am, who do these children belong to?”

  “Oh, who knows? I can hardly remember my own name, let alone their parents’ names. Now, officer, if you’ll excuse me, I am in a terrible rush to get to Boston for a beauty contest, so I am sure you’ll understand if we continue this chat later, perhaps someplace more civilized, like at my mansion.”

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to bring you in.”

  “In where? Are you trying to recruit me for the highway patrol? It simply won’t work out; I’ve never looked good in khaki. Perhaps you can call me when you get some pink or lavender uniforms.”

  “Ma’am, I am arresting you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Call the governor; he knows me very well.”

  “Sure,” the officer said sarcastically, “and then I’ll call the president.”

  “Oh, please don’t. His wife gets so jealous.”

  “Ma’am, I’m arresting you.”

  “Oh, very well. Call the president. See if I care.”