The Final Exam (4 page)

“I go by Hyhy, remember? I know you’re old and could die at any second, but we’re still besties, and besties call me Hyhy!”

“Thank you for those extremely uplifting words, Miss
Hyhy,
” Schmidty replied drolly.

“Hey, Abernathy,” Garrison jumped in, offering the biggest smile humanly possible. “How are you? How’s everything going?”

Abernathy continued to stare at his shoes, seemingly oblivious to Garrison’s greeting. Undeterred, Garrison turned toward Mrs. Wellington, once again offering a massive smile.

“Mrs. Wellington, how are you? You look really… yellow. I mean,
nice in yellow,
” Garrison rambled awkwardly.

For the first time in her life, Mrs. Wellington ignored a compliment and remained totally and utterly silent. Everyone in the room quickly grew ill at ease, inadvertently setting the stage for Theo, who cleared his throat in an embarrassingly theatrical manner. It sounded like a cat with laryngitis trying to dislodge a hairball.

“As the MC—that’s master of ceremonies, for those of you not up-to-date on your acronyms—I would like to welcome you—”

“Wait a minute. No one made you master of ceremonies,” Lulu interrupted Theo.

“Let’s not get caught up in details, Lulu. Now, as I was saying, I brought sourdough bread, cookies, scones, and crackers. That’s right, people, I am talking about carbohydrates! And I think we can all agree that if carbohydrates were a religion we’d convert—”

“Theo, if I may interrupt, I feel we’re getting wildly off course here. This is about Abernathy and Mrs. Wellington,” Madeleine said, adjusting her shower cap.

“As usual, Maddie’s right,” Garrison agreed, unintentionally strengthening the young girl’s lingering crush on him. “Mrs. Wellington, Abernathy, let’s just sit down and talk about this like adults, or at the very least like angry ballplayers.”

“Celery wants me to point out that we’re not
technically
adults.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that thirteen is considered a man in many cultures?” Theo asked with frustration. “And the fact that I am not a member of any of these cultures does not make it any less true.”

“Sorry. Celery and I are super age-conscious now that we’re in the double digits. Actually, don’t say anything,” Hyacinth said, putting her hands over the ferret’s
ears, “but she’s only four. I don’t have the heart to tell her that she’s still in the single digits in human years. You know how desperate she is to fit in.”

“And you said
I
was off-topic? She’s talking about a ferret with an identity crisis,” Theo huffed to Madeleine.

Up to this point, both Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy had successfully managed to avoid even the slightest eye contact. Abernathy was still very content staring at his shoes, while Mrs. Wellington dabbed her misty eyes with a monogrammed pink handkerchief.

“Mrs. Wellington,” Garrison said kindly, “I know this is hard, but someone needs to start this conversation. You’re the teacher; what do you say you give it a shot?”

“Yes, I suppose I could do that,” Mrs. Wellington replied, trembling with emotion.

The mere sound of her voice ignited a burning sensation in Abernathy’s toes, which quickly rose through his body. As the heat reached his head, he lifted his eyes and looked at Mrs. Wellington for the first time. His face flashed red, his eyes narrowed, and his lips quivered. Then, in a wholly unexpected turn of events, Abernathy began to growl at the old woman.

The raw emotion that had plagued Mrs. Wellington all day quickly evaporated as her stern aloofness returned. It appeared both parties were falling back into their long-held dynamic of hostility.

“How dare you growl at me? I am the headmistress of this school, as well as your stepmother, and as such demand to be treated with respect!” Mrs. Wellington spat out harshly.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Theo said to Mrs. Wellington. “That was probably just Abernathy’s stomach; after all, he’s been eating twigs and beetles for decades. I’m sure he has a wide variety of gastric intestinal issues.”

“That wasn’t my stomach, young boy,” Abernathy responded quietly to Theo.

“Young
man,
” Theo corrected Abernathy.

“I meant no offense—well, not to you anyway. Just
her.
”

“How dare you call me
her
?” Mrs. Wellington snapped.

“I suppose
it
would be more appropriate.”

“I will have you know that only this morning someone mistook me for a woman of twenty.”

“Madame, it hardly counts when that someone is you,” Schmidty interjected from a few feet away.

Paying Schmidty and the others no mind, Abernathy once again started to growl. As his tone grew more guttural, Mrs. Wellington countered by hissing with the ferocity of a feral feline.

“You are both far too old to behave in such an undignified manner,” Madeleine interjected. “Now, I’m sure we can solve this civilly, over a cup of tea.”

“And some cheese sandwiches,” Theo added.

Still staring intently at Mrs. Wellington, Abernathy bared his green-tinted teeth and snarled.

“Celery thinks we should tell Abernathy about whitening toothpaste. It’s probably not available in the forest,” Hyacinth offered in her usual peppy tone.

“Would anyone care for a cookie, or a piece of bread?” Madeleine asked with a cracking voice, desperate to distract Abernathy from Mrs. Wellington and vice versa. “Theo is right; we all think much more clearly on a full stomach.”

“That’s why fat people are so smart,” Theo interjected proudly. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll title my
memoir
Full Stomach: How Food Made Me Fun, Fabulous, and Fierce.
”

Ignoring Theo, Madeleine approached Abernathy with the tray of food. Much to everyone’s delight, he picked up a cookie. Eating was most definitely a good sign—or at least that’s what they thought before he jettisoned the cookie at Mrs. Wellington, knocking her wig askew in the process.

“Cookie down,” Theo whimpered quietly to himself as he mourned the loss of the sugary treat.

Mrs. Wellington corrected her wig while seething over the indignity of the situation. She then grabbed a piece of bread and lobbed it directly at Abernathy’s gray face.

“In case you’ve forgotten, there are starving children in Africa, and maybe even one in here, so put down the food,” Theo said with the seriousness of a hostage negotiator.

“I told you we needed Styrofoam bats,” Lulu called out to Garrison as the action escalated.

Much like in a war zone, artillery was firing so rapidly that one could hardly keep track of who was lobbing
what. The air was a veritable sea of cookies, bread, crackers, and crumbs. Once the food was finished, the floor literally covered in culinary casualties, Mrs. Wellington grabbed the jug of milk and splashed it directly into her stepson’s gray face. As milk dripped slowly down his body, the old woman cackled evilly, prompting Abernathy to grab the sole remaining item on the table, the Casu Frazigu, and smash it into her yellow-makeup-covered face.

Both Abernathy and Mrs. Wellington had abruptly transformed into coldhearted warriors, leaving behind absolutely no sign of the sheepish man or weepy woman from before.

“Get it together!” Garrison screamed judgmentally at the soggy twosome. “You guys are grown-ups.”

As Mrs. Wellington brushed large chunks of Casu Frazigu off her yellow dress, she looked crossly at Abernathy and muttered, “Barbarian.”

“Mrs. Wellington, need I remind you that you are the teacher in this room?” Madeleine asked disdainfully.

“Not anymore,” Garrison added. “As of right now, Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy are the students and
we’re
the teachers.”

“What a day!” Theo said excitedly. “First an MC and now a teacher; my résumé is pretty much building itself.”

“This isn’t Cuba, contestants,” Mrs. Wellington snapped. “Coups are illegal.”

“Mrs. Wellington, you can either accept us as your and Abernathy’s teachers or lose everything you’ve worked for; the choice is yours,” Madeleine stated firmly.

After a few seconds, the Casu Frazigu–drenched woman nodded her head in agreement. Madeleine then offered Lulu a knowing glance. The freckle-faced girl turned to Abernathy, who had once again averted his eyes.

“Abernathy, unless you want to wind up as some circus freak being hunted by the media like Bigfoot,” Lulu said with certainty, “you need to do what we say, got it?”

Abernathy quickly nodded his head in agreement, clearly terrified at the idea of being exploited by the press. All eyes, except Abernathy’s, then turned to Garrison for the details of the plan. Feeling an enormous amount of pressure, the tanned boy began to sweat as he did when presented with an ocean, lake, or pool view. After receiving a reassuring smile and a nod of the head from Schmidty, Garrison quickly wiped his upper lip, shook off his doubts, and rose to the occasion.

“Let’s keep this simple,” Garrison declared. “Abernathy needs a makeover both mentally and physically, so he can appear
somewhat
normal. And if we can’t actually get him to forgive Mrs. Wellington, we’ll work on getting him to pretend long enough to undermine Sylvie Montgomery’s story.”

“Celery’s worried the plan sounds a little vague,” Hyacinth squeaked sprightly.

“Hyacinth, much like your sense of tact, I’m sure details are forthcoming,” Madeleine said coldly.

As Hyacinth whispered animatedly into her ferret’s ear, Theo quietly muttered out of the side of his mouth, “What about the old woman?”

“I think Lulu may have been on to something with the Styrofoam bats,” Garrison responded half-jokingly, still unsure how to handle the opposing personalities of Mrs. Wellington and Abernathy.