Class Is Not Dismissed! (17 page)

“Thank you, Mad Mad!” Hyacinth said, with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Oh, enough with the Mad Mad! It’s time you plainly accept that you are not very good at coming up with
nicknames, Hyacinth. In truth, neither am I. That’s why I simply call everyone by their proper name.”

“Celery thinks you secretly like being called Mad Mad and that I should keep doing it no matter what you say!”

“Tell Celery that in some parts of England, people eat ferrets,” Madeleine said harshly.

Tired, irritated, and hungry, the students walked the remainder of the way back to the van in silence. Other than Macaroni’s
heavy panting and the grasshoppers chirping, there was nary a sound to be heard.

Without a pageant start time to make, everyone expected Mrs. Wellington to obey basic traffic laws, look at the road, and
generally make an effort to get them home alive. However, as soon as the old woman turned the key, she stomped on the gas
pedal and took her eyes off the road.

“Madame, as pleasurable as almost dying and being arrested was on the drive here, we are not in any rush to get home, so perhaps
you could slow to within ten miles of the speed limit,” Schmidty said as the van’s tires squealed loudly while rounding a
corner.

“Yes, I suppose that is true. It’s not as if anyone is waiting for us at home.”

“Actually, the cats are home, but they’re definitely not waiting for us, since they probably haven’t noticed we’re gone because
they sleep all day,” Theo expounded, shaking his head. “Talk about lazy.”

“Excuse me, but have you all forgotten that there are hundreds of spiders and beetles roaming the house, just waiting for
us to get home? Oh, no! Simply thinking about it makes me ill,” Madeleine wailed.

“Then stop thinking about it,” Garrison said firmly, “because I really don’t want you to get sick in the car. And I say this
both as a friend and as the boy sitting next to you.”

The students nodded in and out of consciousness, waking only for the sound of cars honking or tires screeching. By the time
Mrs. Wellington turned onto Main Street, everyone was wide awake and salivating over the thought of a warm meal before bed.

Much to Mrs. Wellington’s and Schmidty’s surprise, the sheriff was standing outside the station. Even in the long shadow cast
by the brim of the sheriff’s hat, Schmidty could see that something was horribly wrong. The sheriff wasn’t a man who blanched
easily, but he was downright pale. Oblivious to the sheriff’s expression,
Mrs. Wellington exited the van while Schmidty remained seated to prepare himself for what was to come.

“Hello, Sheriff. How civilized of you to greet us at the curb,” Mrs. Wellington said with a smile. “I am loath to disappoint
you, but I did not come home with a trophy, nor did Macaroni, but only because those silly Knapps got us thrown out of the
doggy pageant! Honestly, those two are such a nuisance, and their fashion sense is absolutely catastrophic. I think we ought
to lobby Congress to pass a law about married couples dressing in matching outfits.”

“Mrs. Wellington, I think you’d better come inside. I’ve got some troubling news to share with you, and I think you may need
to be seated.”

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Wellington gasped loudly, not moving an inch, “Don’t tell me Schmidty has died!”

“What? No. He’s right there,” the sheriff said as Schmidty joined the two on the sidewalk, leaving Macaroni and the children
in the van.

“Oh, thank heavens! For a second I thought you were dead,” Mrs. Wellington said as she turned to Schmidty.

“Thought or hoped?” the old man spat back. “Sheriff,
I sense from your worried expression that something fairly dire has transpired. Might I suppose that Munchauser has stolen
another racehorse? Or lost his cat in a poker game?”

“I wish I could say yes, but this isn’t about Munchauser. It’s about someone named Sylvie Montgomery.”

“Sylvie who?” Mrs. Wellington asked, perplexed.

“I don’t recall Madame ever having had a student named Sylvie.”

“Sylvie isn’t a former student. She’s a reporter, and she arrived in town about an hour ago. Mrs. Wellington, she knows about
the school. And from what she was describing to me, her interpretations of your methods are pretty horrible. I’m sure you
both can imagine how awful things sound when taken out of context by someone who hasn’t been to the school.”

“But how,” Schmidty whispered, “how could she know so much about us?”

“Apparently, someone gave her the inside scoop at the dog beauty pageant.”

“Oh, dear,” Schmidty mumbled.

“And that’s not the worst of it,” the sheriff continued.

“This woman is on the verge of exposing my school, a place I have raised as if it were my very own child, and yet there is
something worse? How is that even possible? And don’t say she killed Schmidty. I don’t think I could handle it…”

“Again, Madame, I am right here, utterly alive.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Mrs. Wellington said dramatically, her hand pressed to her forehead.

“Sylvie knows about Abernathy. Her angle is that your unorthodox tactics drove him to live in the woods, alone and cut off
from society. It’s pretty sensational stuff.”

“How long do we have?” Mrs. Wellington muttered.

“Sylvie says she’s going to run the story at the end of the month. She’s only waiting so she can get front-page placement.”

“I never thought it would end this way, but then again, I never thought it would end,” Mrs. Wellington said, her face pale—with
the exception of her generously applied eye shadow and lipstick. “I suppose we ought to prepare or mourn or do whatever it
is that people do when something dies. Sheriff, would you drive us back to Summerstone now?”

During the ride back to the base of Summerstone the children sensed something was wrong, but they couldn’t quite figure out
what had happened. Theo watched Mrs. Wellington and Schmidty closely, noting the look of pure agony on both their faces. As
bad as seeing Macaroni dressed in a tutu had been, Theo knew Schmidty could not possibly have such a tortured expression over
something that silly. And as for Mrs. Wellington—sure, she had been banned from dog pageants, but she could always start her
own. No, it was something else, Theo thought as the van stopped at the bottom of the mountain. The five students, Macaroni,
Schmidty, and Mrs. Wellington rode the SVT in silence. It wasn’t until the group got to Summerstone’s imposing front door
that someone finally said something.

“I’m sorry, but would everyone mind terribly if I waited out here while you tried to round up the spiders and beetles?” Madeleine
asked. “And please keep your eyes peeled for any sort of crossbreeding between the two. I’m rather certain it’s taken place.”

“No one minds in the slightest,” Mrs. Wellington said kindly, “although I will be retiring for the night, so you will be on
your own. Schmidty, I trust that you can handle the situation after my departure.”

“Of course, Madame.”

“I suppose that’s one good thing; you won’t have to call me Madame anymore.”

“Oh, no, I shall always call you Madame. Our relationship could not exist without a rigid hierarchy.”

“So true, old man, so true,” Mrs. Wellington said meekly before walking into Summerstone.

“Wow, she is really depressed about being kicked out of that pageant,” Garrison said, shaking his head in shock. “I had no
idea dogs in costume could mean so much to someone.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Is that what’s happening?” Lulu asked Schmidty pointedly, sensing there was more to the situation.

“No, I’m afraid it’s nothing to do with that. Unfortunately, it appears that at the pageant a reporter was given inside information
about our institution, including details of Mrs. Wellington’s many techniques, and perhaps most damaging, everything about
Abernathy. The article will be the end of us.”

“Those stupid Knapps! I am going to kidnap Jeffrey just to punish them! They’re going to regret they ever messed with us!”
Lulu screeched.

“Yeah!” Theo yelled. “And we’ll dress him up in really bad clothes too. He’ll be laughed out of every dog park in Massachusetts.”

“I’m sorry to inform you, but it wasn’t the Knapps. According to the sheriff, the reporter was given the inside scoop by one
of our students. And while the student is not mentioned by name since she is a minor, it does state that she traveled with
a pet ferret.”

Hyacinth immediately lowered her eyes to the ground in shame.

“Why, you despicable, evil, pestilent, virulent little maggot,” Madeleine exploded furiously. “If I weren’t terrified to go
into the house, I’d storm away, because simply looking at you makes me ill!”

“What? No, Mad Mad! You can’t be angry at me. We’re besties. It wasn’t my fault. Celery said it was OK to tell Sylvie, because
she is a bestie too! Sylvie and Hyhy, friends forever! I never would have done it if Celery hadn’t said it was OK. Please
believe me. I’m innocent in all this. It’s all Celery’s fault!”

“Pathetic! You can’t even own your own mistake; you’re blaming it on a ferret,” Lulu yelled at the small child in a pantsuit.

“No, Lulu, please understand. Sylvie is a bestie like you guys. I don’t keep anything from my besties. I thought that’s what
besties did. I thought they held hands and told each other all their secrets.”

“You know what is so sad about this whole thing?” Theo asked rhetorically. “It’s that you are so obsessed with being friends
with everyone, but you don’t even know the first thing about friendship. You’re not even a good friend to your ferret. You
blame all your mean comments and mistakes on her. I know for a fact that if I had left Garrison, Madeleine, or Lulu alone
with a reporter for days, they would never have betrayed anyone, least of all Mrs. Wellington.”

“I said I was sorry,” Hyacinth mumbled.

“I think it’s best that you and Celery go to your room, Hyacinth. The rest of us have quite a lot of spider-catching to do
before Madeleine can go to bed,” Schmidty said unemotionally.

“I can help!”

“We don’t want your help,” Garrison said firmly. “We don’t want anything to do with you.”

H
yacinth entered Summerstone’s foyer with a stoic expression, her emotions seemingly contained. The young girl had barely reached
the staircase when her legs began to tremble. Soon her chest tightened, and she felt as though she could barely breathe. Tears
poured down her cheeks as she mounted the stairs reluctantly. With each step Hyacinth fought the overwhelming urge to run
back outside and throw herself on the mercy of the others. She couldn’t explain why, but her instincts
had always told her to flee when left alone. It was this sense of panic that had driven her to always have a companion.

Hyacinth recognized that there was no rational reason to fear being alone; however, the experience left her filled with a
sense of panic. Her mind raced as her emotions surged, leaving little to no room for logic. She started for the door, but
stopped suddenly. Hyacinth knew they would force her to return, and she couldn’t bear to walk those stairs alone again. Moreover,
seeing her classmates’ critical expressions would only augment her already overwhelming guilt and shame about the situation.

Alone in her bedroom, Hyacinth curled up next to Celery and cried. She had never felt quite so small and insignificant as
she did on that bed. The world seemed a cold and lonely place, and the worst part was, she had made it that way. Oddly, after
thoroughly soaking both her pillowcase and her ferret with tears, Hyacinth began to think clearly for the first time since
arriving at School of Fear.

Hyacinth didn’t really know that much about the others, and they knew next to nothing about her. No one
had asked her any questions, and as much as she longed to blame them for being unfriendly, she knew that wasn’t the case.
Hyacinth had never allowed a normal conversation to develop, one in which she could have spoken of her childhood in Kansas
City or her summers in Mumbai with her grandmother. Oh, yes, Hyacinth thought, such natural chatting would have been divine.
Suddenly overwhelmed with stories she wished she had shared with the others, Hyacinth cried even harder. And as intense as
the tears were, she made a special point to remain as quiet as possible. After all Hyacinth had done that day, she didn’t
wish to disturb anyone any further.

Downstairs, Madeleine moved about frantically, wildly slapping her arms and legs. She was certain she felt the tickling walk
of multiple insects and spiders all across her body. Madeleine’s preoccupation with bugs was not a reflection of her indifference
to Mrs. Wellington’s pain. On the contrary, Madeleine had a sinking pit of misery in her stomach over Mrs. Wellington. But
she also recognized that she couldn’t ignore the army of spiders and beetles roaming Summerstone.

“I can feel them crawling on me. This is absolute torture,” Madeleine said, her voice cracking.

“Miss Madeleine,” Schmidty said, “it’s awful to see you so distraught. I believe I have some extra repellent stored away for
emergencies. Perhaps you would care to wait here while I find it?”