Class Is Not Dismissed! (12 page)

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 that 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.

T
ime 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.”

“I need everyone to step out of the van.”

The ride to the police station was rather dull, except of course for Mrs. Wellington’s constant insistence on calling the
governor. Once at the station, Mrs. Wellington and Schmidty were placed in a small holding cell while the children were taken
into an office to be questioned.

At a round table, Theo, Lulu, Garrison, Madeleine,
and Hyacinth were seated uncomfortably before a large one-way mirror.