CHAPTER 18

EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Eisoptrophobia is the fear of mirrors or of seeing oneself in a mirror.

The following morning Garrison awoke with heart palpitations, covered in sweat. Next to him was a snoring pajama-clad bulldog; apparently Macaroni the dog had tired of sneaking into Theo’s bed. Garrison stroked his soft head while racking his brain to remember what could have caused him to wake up with such anxiety.

Obviously, his first line of thinking focused around water. Had he dreamt of being lost at sea, trapped in the eye of a hurricane, or simply seated near a pool? Garrison wasn’t sure exactly how to explain it, but this felt different. With Macaroni loyally at his feet, Garrison brushed his teeth, determined to let whatever he’d dreamed about go. He spat out the remaining bits of toothpaste and looked down at Macaroni. As Garrison peered into the brown sagging eyes of the semi-clothed dog, it came all at once.

Garrison had dreamt of the end of the summer, when he was to return to his parents in Miami. Garrison had told his father that he was still afraid of water. Mr. Feldman hadn’t expounded on life’s distaste of losers and babies; instead he had turned away from his son without a word. It was an epic failure, one too large for words to contain.

Garrison slipped downstairs, leaving his classmates happily unconscious in their beds. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he wanted some kind of proof that this place would cure him. As he tiptoed down the Great Hall, his stomach began to churn with anxiety. He was at a circus, a veritable loony-bin. It was utterly inane to expect a woman with a home as eccentric as Mrs. Wellington’s to actually be a true teacher. While staring at the door to the Library of Smelly Foods, Garrison accepted defeat. He would return home just as big of a baby as he’d left.

Shortly thereafter, a depressed Garrison joined Madeleine, Theo, Lulu, Schmidty, and Macaroni for breakfast. The absurdity of the past few days had taken a toll on everyone, not just Garrison, leaving the group abnormally quiet. Forks scratched against china and Macaroni chewed loudly, but no one spoke. No one had even inquired where Mrs. Wellington was, and why she was late for breakfast. Of course, even if they had, no one would have guessed correctly.

“Ahhh!” Theo yelped as a large green swamp thing entered the dining room. It was the shape of a human covered head to toe in a soft green moss. Within seconds, the precise steps, inhumanely straight posture, and feminine mannerisms exposed the creature to be Mrs. Wellington.

“Oh stop, blathering boy, it’s just Greenland fungus,” Mrs. Wellington responded.

“Is that like gangrene?” Theo asked while pushing his chair away from Mrs. Wellington.

Before she could answer, Madeleine asked, “Do bugs live in that stuff?”

“Children, you act as if you’ve never seen someone dressed in fungus before.”

“We haven’t,” Garrison responded.

“Well, I suppose if you don’t spend much time in Northern Greenland, you wouldn’t. Up there, you find entire towns dressed in fungus. They don’t bother washing it off during winter. It’s warmer than fleece, but much less expensive. The best part is that it’s attracted to heat, so all a warm-blooded creature need do is touch it and — pronto — instant outfit.”

“How do you take it off?” Theo asked.

“Follow me,” Mrs. Wellington said as she began marching down the hall in sync, as usual, with the tick of the clock.

Halfway through the Great Hall, Mrs. Wellington stopped in front of a standard-sized patchwork gold door. The foursome squinted at the radiant door before Mrs. Wellington flipped it open, exposing wall-to-wall slimy green fungus. Somehow, the fungus was a bit more disgusting en masse than on Mrs. Wellington. Maybe she just wore it well; a stylish lady through and through. All the children knew for certain was that a room full of fungus made them queasy.

“Does it smell like mayonnaise, or am I imagining it?” Theo asked with a grimace.

“You are imagining it, Chubs; all I can smell are brussels sprouts,” Lulu said.

“Contestants, the lot of you are ridiculous. It is all in your heads. The fungus is entirely odor-free. Here, take a sniff,” Mrs. Wellington said as she presented her arm to the foursome, who unanimously declined the offer.

Madeleine still hadn’t heard a definitive “no” regarding whether bugs inhabited the fungus and would not be going anywhere near the stuff until she knew for certain.

Mrs. Wellington stepped into the room of wall-to-wall fungus, immediately camouflaging herself.

“Watch closely,” she instructed while hovering near the doorway, rattling a chain. As the children strained to focus on the blob, salt hailed down from the ceiling. Coarse and unusually heavy salt flakes washed over Mrs. Wellington, creating a large white dust cloud. Seconds passed and the haze cleared, showcasing a miraculously spotless Mrs. Wellington.

Mrs. Wellington stepped into the Great Hall and closed the golden door. The foursome stood, mouths agape, inspecting her white nightgown for a speck of fungus, but there was none. It took a second for the children’s eyes to make their way up Mrs. Wellington’s body to her head.

When they did, the foursome screamed in unison as they stared into the face of death. Mrs. Wellington was a frightening sight without a drop of makeup, exposing grayish yellow skin splintered with bulging blue veins.

“Contestants, I am terribly sorry. I’ve let you down as a beauty queen. Today I am not prepared. Your queen has faltered. Your icon has cracked. Please understand, it was your unbridled curiosity for the Greenland fungus that overwhelmed me, prompting me to momentarily lose sight of my role as a beauty queen. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Um, well, that depends,” Lulu said haughtily. “Are you going to make us do more pageantry exercises?”

“Of course, whatever you wish,” Mrs. Wellington said, completely misreading the situation.

“Um, we most definitely do not want to do any pageantry today,” Lulu said assertively. “We’re talking no Vaseline.”

“In that case, no pageantry. Contestants, you have my word. Consider it scrawled in lipstick. Absolutely no pageantry or Vaseline today. How about ten minutes of imaginary exercises in the Fearnasium, so Schmidty has time to apply my makeup and hair?”

“Schmidty does your makeup?” Lulu asked.

“Actually, that makes a lot of sense,” Theo said while reflecting on Mrs. Wellington’s sometimes questionable makeup choices. “Yup, it’s all coming together for me.”

As soon as their ashen-faced, bald-headed headmistress exited the Great Hall, Garrison started toward the Fearnasium.”

“Um, you’re welcome,” Lulu said sarcastically to the group. “A little appreciation would be nice.”

“Thank you, Lulu, it’s much appreciated,” Madeleine said with lackluster. “Now we ought to get started in the Fearnasium.”

“Or we could just imagine we were imagining our activities in the Fearnasium?”

“Now we’re talking,” Garrison said while cracking a smile.

“You are absolutely devilish, Lulu,” Theo said with great admiration.

“I know,” she said pridefully. “What would you guys do without me?”

“I’d probably have higher self-esteem and I suppose Madeleine would be less insecure about not being spotlighted for pageants, and Garrison …”

“Theo, it was a rhetorical question. Even I know that,” Garrison said as he walked toward the classroom.

“The rhetorical question,” Theo rued to himself, “gets me every time.”

Theo fell in line behind Garrison as the foursome made their way to the classroom.

The classroom was nearly dark with the thick velvet curtains drawn, blocking all the day’s light. It reminded Madeleine of the ride to School of Fear, where vines and trees all but deleted the sun from view. Thankfully, cracks of light managed to break through between the dense curtains and the windows. Lulu glanced at the slivers of light as Mrs. Wellington prepared the slide projector for the day’s lesson. The projector’s humming was jarringly loud to the foursome. Of course, they were accustomed to teachers using nearly silent laptops for presentations.

Garrison sat with impeccable posture, a side effect of Mrs. Wellington’s beauty pageant education. Not that he even realized it; Garrison was far too preoccupied hoping that the day’s lesson would finally focus on fears. It didn’t have to be the key to the Magic Kingdom, instantly eradicating his fear, but just some good sage advice. Garrison needed something to take home to his father.

Behind Garrison, Theo sat, also with perfect posture, rubbing his tongue around his mouth, desperate to eradicate the leftover slime from yesterday’s lesson. While admittedly, his gums did feel softer, he wasn’t used to his mouth having the consistency of a slip-and-slide. Next to Theo, Madeleine performed her usual dusting of repellent with near-perfect posture. In front of Madeleine, Lulu defiantly hunched her shoulders, a testament to her pride in escaping Pag Ed.

“Contestants, when I went upstairs, Schmidty screamed. He was that taken aback that I had allowed you, my disciples, to see me in the light of day without a shred of makeup or hair. As you know, my platform has always been that ‘a beauty queen is always prepared,’ and for floundering this one time, I apologize,” Mrs. Wellington said with misty eyes. “Now then, as you requested, we are skipping pageantry today and will instead focus on something a bit more traditional — history.”

“History? You’re going to teach us history? What about something to do with fears?” Garrison moaned, “since this is the School of Fear and all?”

“Sporty, history is the second most important subject a boy can study. You shouldn’t scoff at that.”

“Let me guess, pageantry is the first,” Garrison said with bubbling agitation.

“Exactly! Who said you weren’t sharp?” Mrs. Wellington responded. “Was that Lulu? Or Madeleine?”

“It wasn’t me,” Madeleine quickly interjected.

“What am I supposed to tell my dad? He expects me to come home cured!” Garrison exploded. “Do you know what that means? It means afternoons at the beach! Surfing lessons! Pools! Whitewater rafting! I feel sick even saying the words! How am I going to face my dad?”

“You tell your bossy, old, grouchy father that getting over your fears is a process, one we must confront daily, and that if he has a problem with that, he should investigate why he is more afraid of your fear than you are,” Mrs. Wellington said with the confidence and clarity of a bona fide certified teacher.

Garrison, shocked into silence, stared at Mrs. Wellington, whose lipstick Schmidty had accidentally applied slightly outside her lips. It was a spectacularly astonishing moment: Mrs. Wellington had actually taught him something. Beyond the wig, bad makeup, and total insanity, there appeared to be a sliver of knowledge regarding fears.

“Thank you,” Garrison mumbled, incapable of articulating anything more. He still wasn’t any closer to being cured, but he felt a great deal lighter.

“You’re welcome, Sporty,” Mrs. Wellington said kindly. “It seems like just yesterday, my own mother was teaching me the Bill of Rights,” she said while dabbing her eyes. “When I learned that the Bill of Rights secured my right to bear charm, freedom to bleach, and protection from unreasonable tweezing and plucking, well, history just came alive. I suddenly understood how important it was, and today I hope I can help you see that as well,” Mrs. Wellington said while clicking the first slide.

A black-and-white photo of an elaborately dressed baby in a bassinet filled the screen.

“It all started at Murphy General Hospital,” Mrs. Wellington said while gazing at the baby.

“Stunning, isn’t she? In fact, Edith was so gorgeous the doctor asked to purchase her. Of course, her parents declined, although they certainly were flattered.”

“Wait, a doctor tried to buy a baby?” Lulu asked incredulously.

“As you can see, Edith was an exceptional beauty; no one could blame the doctor for momentarily losing his bearings.”

“Now then, first grade,” Mrs. Wellington said while clicking the projector. “Edith was very smart; a true hit with the teachers. Sometimes, they even brought her apples. That’s how much they liked her.”

“Who is Edith?” Theo asked genuinely. “The governor of Massachusetts? State senator?”

“Dear boy, I haven’t aged that much, have I?”

“Wait, the history lesson is about you?” Theo responded.

In that moment, Garrison was more perplexed than he had ever been. How is it possible that the same woman who just handed him fantastically smart advice was now conducting a history lesson on her own life? Not to mention doing it in the third person.

Mrs. Wellington clicked the next slide and a young caramel-haired boy, no more than ten, filled the screen. His face was angelic, a true beauty. Though the boy was only onscreen for a second, Garrison was instantly confounded by his familiarity.

“Uh! What is that doing in here?” Mrs. Wellington grumbled to herself.

“Who was that?” Garrison called out as Mrs. Wellington quickly snapped to the next slide of herself.

“Who?”

“The boy.”

“What boy? Oh, that boy,” Mrs. Wellington said with sudden recognition. “His name is Theo. Honestly, I thought you would have learned each other’s names by now.”

“Not Theo,” Garrison responded, “the boy in the slide. Who is he?”

“O-oh,” Mrs. Wellington stammered, “He came with the projector. Moving on.”

“No, I’ve seen him before. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh Garrison, no one is really sure of anything in this crazy beauty pageant of life. Now moving on …”

“No, I know I’ve seen him before. He’s the missing kid from the poster by the B&B,” Garrison said, suddenly sure of himself.

“Is that poster back up?” Mrs. Wellington said with bloodred lips. “I’m going to have some serious words with Schmidty.”

The foursome stared at Mrs. Wellington as her face twisted with fury. Minutes passed before her cheeks returned to their normal contour and her lips arrived at a more natural shade. Sensing the eye of the storm had passed, Garrison pressed on.

“Who is that boy?”

“Again with this? His name is Theo.”

“The boy in the slide!” Garrison retorted with intensifying annoyance.

Mrs. Wellington sighed, adjusted her wig, and dabbed her upper lip before speaking.

“Perhaps he was once a student here.”

“What’s his name?”

“I can’t be expected to remember every student’s name. Why, there are days I can hardly remember Schmidty’s name. Just last week I called him Harriet! And to make matters worse, he responded. He too thought his name was Harriet! Do you see how confusing it all is? It’s simply impossible for me to know who that boy is!” Mrs. Wellington exploded harshly.

“Got it,” Garrison said, surprised by her intensity and anger. “Never mind, then.”

“On to my cotillion,” Mrs. Wellington hollered before pausing to collect herself. “Edith always had such a lovely little cherub face,” she continued while gazing at the slide of herself in a white gown and elaborate jewelry.

“Do most American girls wear diamond tiaras and necklaces to their cotillions?” Madeleine asked sincerely.

“Diamonds are such a headache. Why, just looking at this photo makes me want to reach for an Excedrin. They are the worst. The absolute worst. Whoever said diamonds are a girl’s best friend never owned any. All diamonds ever got me was a bunch of dead guys. Four to be exact.”

“Did you say dead guys?” Theo asked.

“Yes, I said dead guys: the Malicious Melvin Brothers’ Circus. Those scoundrels trained in rock climbing for a year before they burgled me.”

“And you killed them?” Theo asked with surprise.

“Why is it that you are always asking me if I killed someone? Do I look like a murderer? Do I dress like a murderer? What exactly about my beauty says murderer? Had you said ballet dancer, model, actress, I would understand, but murderer? Would a murderer have perfectly painted pale pink fingernails?” Mrs. Wellington asked while displaying her immaculately manicured nails.

“Sorry, it’s just where my mind goes,” Theo said with a shrug. “You absolutely do not look like a murderer. I’m sure that if I had seen you back in the day when you still had your own hair, I would have totally thought you were a model.”

“Thank you, Theo,” Mrs. Wellington said with a nod before returning to the story at hand. “Not only did I not kill those circus creeps, but after they grabbed my diamonds, I offered them pocket money and a snack for the return journey. Unfortunately, my calm attitude spooked them, and they became frantic and cut through the forest instead of following the road back.”

“And?” Lulu asked.

“And nothing. Schmidty found my tiara and necklace four years later atop a stack of old bones. Apparently the men had starved to death, or been eaten, or, well, anything. Schmidty isn’t much for forensics. What can I tell you? The forest, like a casino, always wins. That’s why you should never gamble, or enter the forest. And above all, never underestimate Schmidty,” Mrs. Wellington said seriously. “Class dismissed.”