The Final Exam (9 page)

“You can’t be serious,” Lulu responded in disbelief.

“Please, I’m so scared. Won’t you let me come inside?” Sylvie asked impatiently.

“What exactly is it that you’re afraid of,
Melissa
?” Lulu asked through gritted teeth.

Sylvie suddenly froze, caught completely off guard by the question. She opened her mouth, then closed her mouth, then opened it again and blurted out, “Mangoes.”

“Mangoes?” Theo repeated. “I guess that hairy seed could be kind of creepy.”

“Theo, it’s Sylvie Montgomery! The pink face? The nose? The weird body? Please tell me you knew it was her.”

“Um, of course, Lulu,” Theo blustered. “I was just undercover a second ago.”

“As who?”

“I was undercover as myself, or more precisely a version of myself that didn’t know that Melissa was really
Sylvie,” Theo said before turning toward the nosy reporter. “How dare you come around here causing all these problems? This is School of Fear, and in case you haven’t figured it out by now, we have enough problems already!”

“Can I quote you on that?” Sylvie asked with exhilaration.

“He’s a minor; you can’t quote him without parental permission,” Lulu said, slapping her hand over Theo’s mouth.

“Quite the legal mind,” Sylvie responded, sniffing loudly. “I’ll give you anything you want for the inside scoop.”

“You want the inside scoop? I think you have allergies. It’s not normal for a nose to make so much noise,” Lulu shot back.

“What about you, kid?” Sylvie asked Theo with a wink.

“I think there’s also a very good chance that you’re suffering from rosacea; your skin shouldn’t be that pink.”

“This is no time for jokes; you have no idea who you’re messing with!”

“Who’s joking? Your skin is screaming for a good dermatologist!”

“In that case, perhaps I can get Dr. Bregman’s number from you?”

“How do you know my dermatologist’s name?” Theo asked nervously.

“I know all your doctors’ names, and your teachers’, and your neighbors’,” Sylvie said with another snort. “I know just about everything there is to know about you guys.”

“Yeah, right,” Lulu replied halfheartedly.

“You stole the key to the teachers’ restroom just so you could use a bathroom with a window,” Sylvie said matter-of-factly.

“How could you know that?” Lulu asked, shocked.

“Like I said, I know absolutely everything about you kids,” Sylvie said confidently. “And as for those last few secrets about your teacher and the school, I’ll sniff them out soon enough…”

A
s the outcome of her contestants’ plan grew dimmer, Mrs. Wellington retreated to her bed in the middle of the day. With a bleak forecast for the remainder of her life, she hardly had a reason to stay awake. And so as Lulu and Theo finished their first patrol, the old woman fell quickly and quietly to sleep in her oversized pink bed.

Upon waking from her nap a few hours later, Mrs. Wellington trotted to the mirror to reapply her makeup
and brush out her wig. The old woman looked at her reflection and realized she must still be asleep. There was simply no other explanation for what she saw. Mrs. Wellington promptly pinched herself, only to find that she was in fact conscious. She immediately began to rub her eyes, absolutely sure that dust particles were distorting her vision. After thirty seconds of diligent massaging, Mrs. Wellington once again looked in the mirror. Still the inexplicable image persisted, which could only mean one thing: it was real.

“I’ll kill him!” Mrs. Wellington erupted as she stormed down the stairs, through the foyer, and into the Great Hall.

Alarmed by the commotion, Schmidty, Abernathy, and the students rushed into the corridor from the classroom. There stood Mrs. Wellington, sporting a massacred wig, a literal mess of short jagged spikes.

“Man, that is one bad haircut,” Garrison muttered as he surveyed the damage.

“I think it’s kind of punk rock,” Lulu said optimistically. “If you add some leather and chains to your wardrobe, you can totally pull this off.”

“You ruined my last wig,” Mrs. Wellington spat venomously at a smiling Abernathy.

“Mister Abernathy, I beg of you to stop smirking. It’s hardly helping the situation,” Schmidty pleaded while nervously wringing his hands.

“Well, you ruined my life, you shrew!” Abernathy retaliated loudly.

“Celery wants to know what a shrew is,” Hyacinth said in her usual peppy voice. “I totally know, but you know how ferrets can be…”

“Hyacinth,” Lulu said with a sigh.

“Hyhy,” Hyacinth corrected her.

“Tell Celery to get a dictionary because we don’t have time for this!” Lulu huffed.

“You’re pure evil,” Abernathy bellowed at Mrs. Wellington before once again beginning to growl and snarl.

“You ruined my hair! That’s tantamount to treason where I come from,” Mrs. Wellington declared before breaking into a guttural hiss.

“Ugh, not the animal-kingdom thing again,” Garrison said with frustration.

Fortunately, the animalesque brawl was interrupted
by Summerstone’s seldom-heard doorbell. In a nod to Mrs. Wellington’s pageant history, the bell played the Miss America theme song, not that anyone other than Schmidty and Mrs. Wellington recognized it.

“Old man, open this door,” Mrs. Wellington ordered Schmidty after stomping into the foyer with all but Abernathy in tow.

“Yes, of course, Madame.”

Standing on the doorstep in a Girl Scout uniform was the ubiquitous Sylvie Montgomery. Dressed in an emerald skirt with socks pulled up to her knees and a sash covered in badges, Sylvie looked disturbingly authentic. One couldn’t help but wonder if a local Girl Scout would soon discover her uniform missing from the clothesline.

“Hi, I’m Jenny! Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?” Sylvie said from beneath a thick layer of white makeup, a desperate attempt to camouflage her Pepto-Bismol skin tone.

“Finally, something goes my way. We’ll take twelve boxes of Thin Mints and all the Samoas you’ve got,” Theo stated euphorically.

“Again, Theo?” Lulu asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You really can’t tell it’s Sylvie?” Garrison asked with a most perplexed expression.

“Dear Mister Theo, for the country’s sake, may you never work in espionage,” Schmidty added.

Sylvie took one small step toward the door, desperately angling her head to get a better view of Garrison.

“Well, if it isn’t the boy who offered to teach Ashley Minnelli how to surf even though he can barely swim,” Sylvie said excitedly, staring at Garrison.

“How do you know about that?” Garrison exploded as Madeleine simultaneously screamed, “Who is Ashley Minnelli?”

“Leave the students out of this!” Mrs. Wellington snapped ferociously at Sylvie.

“It’s a little late for that. I’m including all their weird and embarrassing secrets in the article. It will make the story all the more compelling to the Snoopulitzer committee,” Sylvie announced proudly as Mrs. Wellington slammed the door.

“I guess that means no cookies,” Theo lamented sadly.

The group stood still, silently taking stock of their extraordinarily grim predicament. With only days left
before the story went to press, they were faced with a few undeniable truths: Abernathy still loathed Mrs. Wellington, and Sylvie’s passion for the story was increasing exponentially by the day. Unless they stopped her, she would publicly humiliate them all, literally exposing their deepest, darkest secrets to the world.

“We failed you,” Garrison announced glumly to Mrs. Wellington and Schmidty.

“He’s right,” Lulu agreed. “It’s over. Well, except for the part where she tells the world all of our horrifying secrets, which should make the first day back at school a real treat.”

“At least you’re young,” Mrs. Wellington said quietly. “There’s still time to change your names and build new lives. For me, this is it.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. I thought School of Fear was too big to fail, sort of like all those companies on Wall Street,” Theo moaned morosely.

“As acting academic tutor of the house,” Madeleine explained, “I feel it is my duty to inform you that many companies on Wall Street did in fact fail.”

“Oh, no, I wonder if my uncle lost his job. Although on the bright side, if he did, at least I’ll have someone to
hang out with while I’m being homeschooled. There’s no way I’m showing my face at school after the article,” Theo blustered.

“Ashley Minnelli is going to find out that I’m not a surfer, that I can’t even watch
SpongeBob SquarePants
without getting a sweaty upper lip,” Garrison groaned.

“Oh, enough about Ashley!” Madeleine snapped most uncharacteristically. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me; it must be the stress. I’m sure Ashley is a lovely girl, absolutely lovely. And best of all, she probably doesn’t wear a shower cap.”

As Madeleine looked at her feet, her cheeks burning bright red, Garrison turned away, unsure what to say or do to make it better.

“It’s not over yet,” Schmidty said, nervously patting his comb-over.

“I think your hearing aid needs the volume turned up; we just covered how we totally and completely failed,” Garrison corrected the old man.

“Well, there’s still one option left…”

“Oh, come on, Schmidty!” Theo yelled. “We don’t have time for dramatic pauses!”

“I was merely pausing to breathe, Mister Theo, and I
hardly think you are in a position to lecture anyone where drama is concerned,” Schmidty huffed before turning to Mrs. Wellington and whispering in her ear.

“Hey!” Lulu barked. “We don’t have time for secrets, either!”

Mrs. Wellington’s eyes flitted about the room nervously as she contemplated what Schmidty had said.

“Oh, dear, you aren’t going to sell us to Munchauser, are you?” Madeleine asked quietly, silently reminiscing about Mrs. Wellington’s grotesque, gambling-obsessed attorney.

“Why would you even plant that idea in their heads?” Theo responded disapprovingly.

“Please, Schmidty, won’t you tell us what you’re thinking?” Madeleine asked nicely.

“Madame, it’s your call. You know him better than I do.”