Class Is Not Dismissed! (14 page)

Once seat belts were securely fastened, Mrs. Wellington arranged the mirrors so that she could see herself at all times. After
a quick application of lipstick, she turned
the key and began revving the engine. This act set off Theo’s safety radar, prompting him to clear his throat loudly. “I think
we’ve all learned an important lesson today about the dangers of speeding, reckless driving, and incarceration.”

With a look of determination, Mrs. Wellington slammed her foot on the gas and stormed into traffic.

“Did you learn nothing, woman? Was jail one big joke to you?” Theo hollered as drivers honked and offered obscene hand gestures.

“Does anyone see a park? Trees? Greenery? Picnic tables? Maybe a swing set or sandbox?” Mrs. Wellington babbled manically
as she drove erratically down the highway.

“Madame, not that I wish to increase your anxiety or the speed of this vehicle, but we only have fifteen minutes until the
pageant starts. Maybe it’s time to come up with a plan B,” Schmidty said as he closed his eyes, unwilling to watch as Mrs.
Wellington entered the city limits of Boston.

“I am morally opposed to plan B’s and you know that, old man. They are the delinquents of the plan world, and I will have
absolutely nothing to do with them.”

“Yet another reason to always carry a cell phone. You never know when your mentally unhinged teacher dressed in a tutu is
going to get lost on her way to a beauty pageant to meet her blackmailer,” Theo explained earnestly to Hyacinth.

After a few nods of her head, Hyacinth smiled sweetly at Theo. “Thee Thee, Celery thinks you may have forgotten to brush your
teeth this morning. I haven’t noticed your halitosis, but that’s what Celery’s telling me. And she should know, since ferrets
are known for their strong sense of smell.”

“Well,” Theo said with embarrassment as he covered his mouth and attempted to smell his own breath, “first of all, ferrets
are known for nothing. They are the least distinguished members of the animal race. And second of all, it’s not as if Celery
smells so good herself. She doesn’t shower, use toilet paper, or even own a toothbrush. And I’ve seen her pee on her own foot
more than once.”

“Is that the park?”

“No, Madame,” Schmidty responded. “That is a single tree. I believe more than one tree is needed to qualify as a park.”

“Why are there so many buildings and cars everywhere? It’s as if they are hiding this park from me on purpose. This whole
thing stinks of crown jealousy!”

Theo watched as Mrs. Wellington looked everywhere but at the road ahead. After taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and
cleared his throat for the umpteenth time that day. “I don’t mean to interrupt, Mrs. Wellington. Actually, on second thought,
I do mean to interrupt you from NOT looking at the road,” Theo said gravely. “I’m pretty sure the rule is six seconds, and
I clocked you at seven. A lot could happen in seven seconds. I doubt you even realize how long seven seconds is. Let me demonstrate…
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… that didn’t feel that long. Maybe I said them too quickly. One Mississippi, two—”

“Enough, Chubby! We haven’t time for safety lessons.”

“Excuse me, Madame, but I’m rather certain that sign says Franklin Park, or is that Fooman Pork?” Schmidty said, squinting
severely. “So it’s either the park or Chinese food.”

Franklin Park, named for one of America’s founding fathers, Benjamin Franklin, was an odd location to
choose for the pageant. Not simply because it was Boston’s largest park at 527 acres and therefore rather difficult to navigate,
but also because it was outdoors. Pageants are generally conducted within a building, with electricity for hair dryers, curlers,
and countless other appliances. As Mrs. Wellington parked the van illegally, she couldn’t help but wonder what self-respecting
beauty queen would arrange such an event in a park. It was simply blasphemous!

Without a second to spare, Mrs. Wellington charged into the park, sashaying past the pond, across the golf course, and finally
under an archway. Once through the arch, she caught a whiff of hair spray and false-eyelash glue. Much like a bassett hound
on the trail of a rabbit, she kept her nose pointed toward the ground as she drew long ragged breaths, digesting the many
smells before continuing on her way. Normally such behavior would elicit a response from the group, but not today.

Mrs. Wellington’s companions had long since stopped talking. The trek across the park had left them all winded, as well as
dubious of the entire mission. Theo worried that this was a sophisticated setup so the burglar could hold them up and steal
their wallets in the
middle of the park. Schmidty now fretted that this was a ruse to get them away from Summerstone so the entire mansion could
be rummaged for valuables, or worse, documented for a press release. The mere idea of it turned his stomach inside out.

As for Madeleine, she simply did not have the mental space to worry about others when she was in the middle of a park at the
height of summer. This was spider season, and she was not about to allow another one to crawl across her ivory skin. Much
as one would expect from a person suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Madeleine was experiencing horrid flashbacks.
At least twice an hour her mind would momentarily go blank before being flooded by the memory of the spider hanging precariously
over her face, then being brutally squished on her forehead. As she recalled this incident, an earthquake of emotions left
her mute with nausea. The young lady simply could not speak a word while going through the torturous memories of the spider
invasion. With all this racing through her mind, Madeleine did her best to stay with the group, but it wasn’t easy. For on
top of that, Madeleine insisted on flailing her arms about to keep any creepy-crawly creatures at bay.

As for Theo and Garrison, both were concentrating on extricating their hands from Hyacinth, who had rather amazingly managed
to attach herself to
both
boys. This was Hyacinth’s favorite type of walking; she was literally encumbered by people. Garrison and Theo did not share
her enthusiasm for the hand-holding and could think of nothing but how clammy and repulsive their hands felt. Ahead of the
boys, Lulu was hot on Mrs. Wellington’s trail, anxious to confront the burglar who had caused everyone so much stress.

As for Macaroni, he was taken in by the lush scenery of the park, with its piles of moss-covered stones, winding paths, and
endless trees. It had been quite some time since the chubby bulldog had ventured out of his normal territory, and he was thoroughly
delighted by it. More than the new sights and sounds, it was the new smells that left him enchanted. Other than eating and
sleeping, smelling was one of Macaroni’s favorite leisure activities.

“That must be it!” Mrs. Wellington shouted as she pointed toward a red-and-white-striped tent at the edge of a cluster of
trees.

“Madame, I believe that is a circus tent,” Schmidty said.

The tent was at least two stories high, with multiple pointed peaks. It was impossible to see how far back the tent stretched,
but it certainly didn’t appear modest in size.

“This makes perfect sense. They couldn’t possibly have a pageant outdoors. Everyone knows pageant makeup is not meant to be
viewed in broad daylight.”

“Yes, on that we most certainly agree,” Schmidty said. “Speaking of which, would you care for a touch-up before entering the
tent, Madame?”

“Dear man. Of course I would like a full reapplication of all makeup. This is the big comeback I have been waiting for. That
burglar just may turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Madame; it’s been quite some time since your last real pageant. The ones we held in the
ballroom with you and the cats don’t count.”

“Oh, don’t be such a ninny! I’m a born winner. The spotlight has always loved me.”

And with that, the students stared as a nearly blind old man reapplied thick layers of pink eye shadow that perfectly coordinated
with Mrs. Wellington’s fluffy tutu.
While clearly weak in the vision department, Schmidty was extremely quick. Why, he reapplied the makeup in under five minutes.
Of course, speed and precision have very little to do with each other.

As Mrs. Wellington and company approached the tent, many crazy noises and scents took them by surprise. Not only was there
the requisite odor of eyelash glue and hair spray in the air, there was also a rather pungent eucalyptus smell. As for the
sounds, there were bells ringing and whistles blowing. It was all very much as one would expect at an actual circus.

Theo took a few deep breaths before shaking his head in disappointment. “I was kind of expecting perfume and baby powder,
not… what is that?”

“The smell of denture cream and hearing aids,” Lulu remarked drily. “These are Mrs. Wellington’s peers, after all.”

“This is probably going to scar me,” Garrison muttered to Madeleine. “I may never be able to look at my grandma the same way
again.”

“Highly probable,” Madeleine agreed, while continuing to flail her arms about. “I don’t mean to be pushy, Mrs. Wellington,
as I know you haven’t been part of a
pageant in ages, but I am more than ready to get out of the great outdoors and away from its many creepy-crawly creatures.
I’m rather certain I can hear insect wings flapping and spiders’ pads sticking right this second…”

Mrs. Wellington completely ignored Madeleine while once again straightening out her tutu and running her hands over her wig.

“Contestants, before we enter, I must, as your teacher, prepare you for the wide range of emotions you will be confronted
with. Some of you may feel jealous or envious while watching me in my full glory, with the crowd cheering loudly, perhaps
even chanting my name. Please make mental notes of said experience, since I would love to hear about it on the car ride home
as well as every day for the rest of my life. Others may go into absolute shock, stunned by the sight of so many gorgeous
women in one place. No need to make mental notes about anyone else’s beauty, though.” Mrs. Wellington smiled largely while
pulling back the tent’s flap.

The group was greeted by a scrawny woman with long noodlelike arms. Rather surprisingly, she was dressed in a red top hat,
thick black veil, corseted dress,
and a belt of bells. It certainly wasn’t the traditional pink dress with rhinestones they were expecting from a pageant woman.

“Welcome. I’m Finca, the master of ceremonies,” the top-hat woman said in a gravelly voice. “Is this your first time?”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

“Very well,” Finca said as she walked, bells jingling, toward another tent flap.

She pulled back the thick red-and-white plastic drape and motioned for the group to enter. Mrs. Wellington placed her right
hand on her hip and led Schmidty, Macaroni, and the children into the tent.

The instant they entered, they stopped, mouths agape. This was not what they were expecting.

T
he tent bustled with people and animals pushing to and fro as the students remained paralyzed in shock. The sound of bells,
whistles, and barking filled the densely crowded space. But most notably, the people were dressed as dogs and the dogs dressed
as people. Grown men and women walked around with face paint, furry ears, and plastic snouts while their dogs wore lipstick,
wigs, and a variety of outfits.

“It’s a beauty pageant for dogs!” Mrs. Wellington
expounded enthusiastically as she pointed to a sparkly sign that read T
HE
P
AGEANT OF
P
OOCHES!

“Madame, you look a tad manic. Is everything all right?”

“Old man, this is it! This is where I belong. These are
my people,
” Mrs. Wellington said as she surveyed her surroundings.

Awash in euphoria, Mrs. Wellington literally skipped into the adjoining room, which housed a large circular stage. French
bulldogs costumed in tall white wigs and corseted dresses proudly pranced around the stage. This was the height of French
fashion circa the late 1700s, only worn by dogs.

Schmidty, Macaroni, and the children crowded around Mrs. Wellington in an attempt to get the old woman’s attention.

“Excuse me,” Madeleine said firmly as she tapped on Mrs. Wellington’s arm. “We must stay focused! Mrs. Wellington, the fate
of the school depends on your finding this burglar.”

“But there are dogs in wigs,” Mrs. Wellington mumbled as if under a spell.

“That doesn’t matter! We need to find this burglar.
Don’t you realize that if you lose the school, we lose any chance of getting better?” Madeleine pleaded. “Look at me! I am
wearing a shower cap in public! Clearly, there is much work to be done!”

“Dogs… wigs… dresses… earrings… lipstick…” Mrs. Wellington uttered inarticulately, all the while never taking her eyes off
the stage.