The Final Exam (10 page)

Mrs. Wellington’s eyes again flitted around the room, as if she were frantically searching for the right answer, before landing on Schmidty. After a few seconds the old woman cautiously nodded her head in agreement.

“The man’s name is Basmati…”

B
ishop Basmati is the most contrary man in the world. If you say ‘black,’ he will most definitely say ‘white.’ And if you then say ‘white’ he will deny he ever said ‘white.’ He simply cannot agree with anyone. So contrary and tricky is Basmati that simply being in his presence rids children of difficult behavior,” Mrs. Wellington explained to her rapt students.

“He runs the Contrary Conservatory in upstate New
York,” Schmidty added. “Along with School of Fear, it’s one of the few specialty institutions left in the country.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Garrison asked. “Let’s go see this guy.”

“I think it’s best if we stop and call Basmati so he has time to go grocery shopping before our arrival,” Theo added seriously. “As I always say, an empty cupboard leads to an empty brain. And I think we can all agree, if we’ve ever needed full brains, it’s now.”

“I’m beginning to question if you even have a brain,” Lulu said to Theo.

“I’m afraid the Contrary Conservatory abides by the same no-technology stance as we do,” Schmidty explained. “So this will have to be a surprise visit, snacks and all.”

Never in the history of Summerstone had anyone packed as fast as Abernathy. The man simply placed his toothbrush in his fanny pack and considered himself ready. After years of forest living he felt that changing his clothes more than two times a month was most extravagant. Mrs. Wellington, on the other hand, found it impossible to leave Summerstone without a minimum of ten outfits, a backup case of makeup, and her infamous pageant tutu. So obscene was her amount of clothing for
the short trip that the students and Schmidty actually had to aid her in packing.

After finally wrangling the eight-person, two-animal group out the front door, Schmidty shot the flare gun, signaling for the sheriff to come to the base of the mountain. Unfortunately, as the sheriff was attending to actual city business, issuing a jaywalking ticket to an elderly man, the group was forced to wait almost twenty minutes. Standing next to the Summerstone Vertical Tram, the eclectic group watched flying squirrels glide effortlessly from branch to branch along the perimeter of the Lost Forest.

“Do you ever miss the forest?” Lulu whispered quietly to Abernathy.

“Not like I thought I would,” Abernathy replied, clearly surprised by his own response. “There are a lot of nice people out here. Well, except for her,” he added with a nod at Mrs. Wellington.

Upon arriving at the base of Summerstone, the sheriff agreed to drive the group to Pittsfield Airport, therefore removing the greatest danger from the trip: Mrs. Wellington behind the wheel. The memory of the horrifying drive to the Pageant for Pooches was still
clearly etched in everyone’s mind, as was Mrs. Wellington’s subsequent arrest.

While none of the children had an explicit fear of flying, Lulu and Theo were definitely uneasy with the idea. For her part, Lulu was extremely worried about being trapped in midair, literally marooned in the sky, without any possible means of escape. Theo, on the other hand, was deeply concerned about everything that happened between takeoff and landing—the plane, the pilot, the peanuts.

Pittsfield Airport was the sort of small-town establishment that crafted signs using paper and felt-tip pens. Constructed out of a converted auto-body garage, it had questionable security to say the least; upon entering, the group was faced with a handwritten note that asked all passengers carrying illegal weapons or other forms of contraband to please turn around and drive to Boston’s Logan Airport.

“I am officially naming the plane Besties Airway!” Hyacinth cheered as she ran toward one of the two gates at the airport.

“Um, no way,” Lulu said with her hand firmly covering her twitching left eye. “That is not a plane; that is a
coffin with wings. And quite frankly I don’t think Theo could fit in there even if he was wearing a girdle.”

“How do you know about my girdle?” Theo asked anxiously before getting distracted by the rusted blue plane with lopsided wings and cracked windows.

“Let’s just rent a car and take our chances with Mrs. Wellington,” Lulu declared boldly.

“I have to agree with Lulu on this. That thing is a death trap. It doesn’t even have proper wheels, just a couple of Rollerblades glued to the bottom,” Theo exclaimed nervously.

“Chubby, I cannot believe that you and Macaroni are actually wearing parachutes,” Mrs. Wellington said, pointing to the canvas sacks strapped to their backs.

“Scoff all you want to, but these are the wave of the future,” Theo retorted. “And PS, don’t you think there’s a reason they sell them at the gift shop? And by gift shop I mean the homeless man standing by the front door.”

“Theo, Lulu,” Madeleine said calmly, “why don’t I ask the pilot to come out here and answer all your questions? That’s sure to put you at ease.”

Madeleine walked straight onto the tarmac, where
she sweetly waved for the pilot of the rusted blue mound to come hither. And though she believed it was her kind face that lured the pilot from the cockpit, it was something else entirely: his curiosity about her shower cap.

Pilot Aronson, a tall and commanding man in his forties, immediately sensed something was amiss upon meeting Lulu and Theo. Of course, it
was
rather hard to ignore Theo’s Lamaze breathing or Lulu’s nervous twisting of her hair.

“I understand you kids have some questions,” Pilot Aronson said to the School of Fearians.

“I prefer to be called an adult or, at least, an adult-in-training,” Theo said haughtily. “Now for my first question: Has this plane passed the 60716554AD56GFC7 inspection?”

“I’ve been a pilot for twenty years, and I’ve never heard of that.”

“Good,” Theo said, nodding his head. “That was a trick question. There is no such thing as the 60716554AD56GFC7 inspection.”

“What’s the square footage on that thing?” Lulu asked while obsessively licking her lips in reaction to her suddenly dry mouth.

“About two hundred fifty square feet.”

“So about the size of a coffin or a French elevator or another comparable death trap,” Lulu muttered, her face white with fear.

“Even though you appear to know what you’re doing, Pilot Aronson, the bulldog and I will still be wearing parachutes as a precaution,” Theo announced before turning to Lulu. “
As a Precaution
is another great potential title for my memoir.”

“Stop talking about your memoir. You haven’t even gone through puberty yet!”

“I’ll have you know that just this morning I saw a hair on my chin,” Theo retorted as Lulu rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, it was one of Macaroni’s hairs that just happened to blow onto my face. But if that’s not foreshadowing, what is?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you guys have any other questions for me?” Pilot Aronson asked with exasperation.

“Does your flight attendant know CPR?” Theo asked dramatically, raising his eyebrows.

“My flight attendant’s name is Maggie, and yes, she is certified in first aid, including CPR,” Pilot Aronson responded reassuringly.

“Okay, good, but I hope she isn’t the overeager type because I’m saving my first kiss for someone special, if you know what I mean,” Theo said.

“He doesn’t know what you mean. No one knows what you mean. I don’t even think you know what you mean!” Lulu blurted out.

After all the questions were asked and answered, Garrison and Madeleine boarded the plane, followed by Mrs. Wellington, Hyacinth, Abernathy, and Schmidty. Lulu and Theo remained parked on the tarmac, staring up at the rusted mess of metal.

“I don’t think I can do it. It’s so small,” Lulu said as her voice began to quiver.

“But there are windows, Lulu,” Theo said reassuringly. “And you love windows. There are even cracks in some of them, so you’ll have fresh air.”

“No, it’s too tiny.”

“It’s bigger than our bathroom, and you’ve spent more than forty-five minutes in there, so what’s the big deal?”