“What does ‘aeginu’ mean?” Duncan asked, taking out his notebook. “I’m going to write down all these details about Olaf and his troupe.”
“Why?” Violet asked.
“Why?” Isadora repeated. “Because we’re going to help you, that’s why! You don’t think we’d just sit here while you tried to escape from Olaf’s clutches, would you?”
“But Count Olaf is very dangerous,” Klaus said. “If you try and help us, you’ll be risking your lives.”
“Never mind about that,” Duncan said, although I am sorry to tell you that the Quagmire triplets should have minded about that. They should have minded very much. Duncan and Isadora were very brave and caring to try and help the Baudelaire orphans, but bravery often demands a price. By “price” I do not mean something along the lines of five dollars. I mean a much, much bigger price, a price so dreadful that I cannot speak of it now but must return to the scene I am writing at this moment.
“Never mind about that,” Duncan said. “What we need is a plan. Now, we need to prove to Nero that Coach Genghis is really Count Olaf. How can we do that?”
“Nero has that computer,” Violet said thoughtfully. “He showed us a little picture of Olaf on the screen, remember?”
“Yes,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “He told us that the advanced computer system would keep Olaf away. So much for computers.”
Sunny nodded her head in agreement, and Violet picked her up and put her on her lap. Nero had reached a particularly shrieky section of his sonata, and the children had to lean forward to one another in order to continue their conversation. “If we go and see Nero first thing tomorrow morning,” Violet said, “we can talk to him alone, without Olaf butting in. We’ll ask him to use the computer. Nero might not believe us, but the computer should be able to convince him to at least investigate Coach Genghis.”
“Maybe Nero will make him take off the turban,” Isadora said, “revealing Olaf’s only eyebrow.”
“Or take off those expensive-looking running shoes,” Klaus said, “revealing Olaf’s tattoo.”
“But if you talk to Nero,” Duncan said, “then Coach Genghis will know that you’re suspicious.”
“That’s why we’ll have to be extra careful,” Violet said. “We want Nero to find out about Olaf, without Olaf finding out about us.”
“And in the meantime,” Duncan said, “Isadora and I will do some investigating ourselves. Perhaps we can spot one of these assistants you’ve described.”
“That would be very useful,” Violet said, “if you’re sure about wanting to help us.”
“Say no more about it,” Duncan said and patted Violet’s hand. And they said no more about it. They didn’t say another word about Count Olaf for the rest of Nero’s sonata, or while he performed it the second time, or the third time, or the fourth time, or the fifth time, or even the sixth time, by which time it was very, very late at night. The Baudelaire orphans and the Quagmire triplets merely sat in a companionable comfort, a phrase which here means many things, all of them happy even though it is quite difficult to be happy while hearing a terrible sonata performed over and over by a man who cannot play the violin, while attending an atrocious boarding school with an evil man sitting nearby undoubtedly planning something dreadful. But happy moments came rarely and unexpectedly in the Baudelaires’ lives, and the three siblings had learned to accept them. Duncan kept his hand on Violet’s and talked to her about terrible concerts he had attended back when the Quagmire parents were alive, and she was happy to hear his stories. Isadora began working on a poem about libraries and showed Klaus what she had written in her notebook, and Klaus was happy to offer suggestions. And Sunny snuggled down in Violet’s lap and chewed on the armrest of her seat, happy to bite something that was so sturdy.
I’m sure you would know, even if I didn’t tell you, that things were about to get much worse for the Baudelaires, but I will end this chapter with this moment of companionable comfort rather than skip ahead to the unpleasant events of the next morning, or the terrible trials of the days that followed, or the horrific crime that marked the end of the Baudelaires’ time at Prufrock Prep. These things happened, of course, and there is no use pretending they didn’t. But for now let us ignore the terrible sonata, the dreadul teachers, the nasty, teasing students, and the even more wretched things that will be happening soon enough. Let us enjoy this brief moment of comfort, as the Baudelaires enjoyed it in the company of the Quagmire triplets and, in Sunny’s case, an armrest. Let us enjoy, at the end of this chapter, the last happy moment any of these children would have for a long, long time.
CHAPTER
Six
Prufrock Preparatory School is now closed. It has been closed for many years, ever since Mrs. Bass was arrested for bank robbery, and if you were to visit it now, you would find it an empty and silent place. If you walked on the lawn, you would not see any children running around, as there were the day the Baudelaires arrived. If you walked by the building containing the classrooms, you would not hear the droning voice of Mr. Remora telling a story, and if you walked by the building containing the auditorium, you would not hear the scrapings and shriekings of Vice Principal Nero playing the violin. If you went and stood beneath the arch, looking up at the black letters spelling out the name of the school and its austere—a word which here means “stern and severe”—motto, you would hear nothing but the swish of the breeze through the brown and patchy grass.
In short, if you went and visited Prufrock Preparatory School today, the academy would look more or less as it did when the Baudelaires woke up early the next morning and walked to the administrative building to talk to Nero about Coach Genghis. The three children were so anxious to talk to him that they got up especially early, and as they walked across the lawn it felt as if everyone else at Prufrock Prep had slipped away in the middle of the night, leaving the orphans alone amongst the tombstone-shaped buildings. It was an eerie feeling, which is why Violet and Sunny were surprised when Klaus broke the silence by laughing suddenly.
“What are you snickering at?” Violet asked.
“I just realized something,” Klaus said. “We’re going to the administrative building without an appointment. We’ll have to eat our meals without silverware.”
“There’s nothing funny about that!” Violet said. “What if they serve oatmeal for breakfast? We’ll have to scoop it up with our hands.”
“Oot,” Sunny said, which meant “Trust me, it’s not that difficult,” and at that the Baudelaire sisters joined their brother in laughter. It was not funny, of course, that Nero enforced such terrible punishments, but the idea of eating oatmeal with their hands gave all three siblings the giggles.
“Or fried eggs!” Violet said. “What if they serve runny fried eggs?”
“Or pancakes, covered in syrup!” Klaus said.
“Soup!” Sunny shrieked, and they all broke out in laughter again.
“Remember the picnic?” Violet said. “We were going to Rutabaga River for a picnic, and Father was so excited about the meal he made that he forgot to pack silverware!”
“Of course I remember,” Klaus said. “We had to eat all that sweet-and-sour shrimp with our hands.”
“Sticky!” Sunny said, holding her hands up.
“It sure was,” Violet agreed. “Afterward, we went to wash our hands in the river, and we found a perfect place to try the fishing rod I made.”
“And I picked blackberries with Mother,” Klaus said.
“Eroos,” Sunny said, which meant something like “And I bit rocks.”
The children stopped laughing now as they remembered that afternoon, which hadn’t been so very long ago but felt like it had happened in the distant, distant past. After the fire, the children had known their parents were dead, of course, but it had felt like they had merely gone away somewhere and would be back before long. Now, remembering the way the sunlight had shone on the water of Rutabaga River and the laughter of their parents as they??
?d made a mess of themselves eating the sweet-and-sour shrimp, the picnic seemed so far away that they knew their parents were never coming back.
“Maybe we’ll go back there,” Violet said quietly. “Maybe someday we can visit the river again, and catch fish and pick blackberries.”
“Maybe we can,” Klaus said, but the Baudelaires all knew that even if someday they went back to Rutabaga River—which they never did, by the way—that it would not be the same. “Maybe we can, but in the meantime we’ve got to talk to Nero. Come on, here’s the administrative building.”
The Baudelaires sighed and walked into the building, surrendering the use of Prufrock Prep’s silverware. They climbed the stairs to the ninth floor and knocked on Nero’s door, surprised that they could not hear him practicing the violin. “Come in if you must,” Nero said, and the orphans walked in. Nero had his back to the door, looking at his reflection in the window as he tied a rubber band around one of his pigtails. When he was finished, he held both hands up in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, Vice Principal Nero!” he announced, and the children began applauding obediently. Nero whirled around.
“I only expected to hear one person clapping,” he said sternly. “Violet and Klaus, you’re not allowed up here. You know that.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Violet said, “but all three of us have something very important we need to discuss with you.”
“All three of us have something very important we need to discuss with you,” Nero replied in his usual nasty way. “It must be important for you to sacrifice your silverware privileges. Well, well, out with it. I have a lot of rehearsing to do for my next concert, so don’t waste my time.”
“This won’t take long,” Klaus promised. He paused before continuing, which is a good thing to do if you’re choosing your words very, very carefully. “We are concerned,” he continued, choosing his words very, very carefully, “that Count Olaf may have somehow managed to get to Prufrock Prep.”
“Nonsense,” Nero said. “Now go away and let me practice the violin.”
“But it might not be nonsense,” Violet said. “Olaf is a master of disguise. He could be right under our very noses and we wouldn’t know it.”
“The only thing under my nose,” Nero said, “is my mouth, which is telling you to leave.”
“Count Olaf could be Mr. Remora,” Klaus said. “Or Mrs. Bass.”
“Mr. Remora and Mrs. Bass have taught at this school for more than forty-seven years,” Nero said dismissively. “I would know if one of them were in disguise.”
“What about the people who work at the cafeteria?” Violet asked. “They’re always wearing those metal masks.”
“Those are for safety, not for disguises,” Nero said. “You brats have some very silly ideas. Next you’ll be saying that Count Olaf has disguised himself as your boyfriend, what’s-his-name, the triplet.”
Violet blushed. “Duncan Quagmire is not my boyfriend,” she said, “and he’s not Count Olaf, either.”
But Nero was too busy making idiotic jokes to listen. “Who knows?” he asked, and then laughed again. “Hee hee hee. Maybe he’s disguised himself as Carmelita Spats.”
“Or me!” came a voice from the doorway. The Baudelaires whirled around and saw Coach Genghis standing there with a red rose in his hand and a fierce look in his eye.
“Or you!” Nero said. “Hee hee hee. Imagine this Olaf fellow pretending to be the finest gym teacher in the country.”
Klaus looked at Coach Genghis and thought of all the trouble he had caused, whether he was pretending to be Uncle Monty’s assistant Stefano, or Captain Sham, or Shirley, or any of the other phony names he had used. Klaus wanted desperately to say “You are Count Olaf!” but he knew that if the Baudelaires pretended that Coach Genghis was fooling them, they had a better chance of revealing his plan, whatever it was. So he bit his tongue, a phrase which here means that he simply kept quiet. He did not actually bite his tongue, but opened his mouth and laughed. “That would be funny!” he lied. “Imagine if you were really Count Olaf! Wouldn’t that be funny, Coach Genghis? That would mean that your turban would really be a disguise!”
“My turban?” Coach Genghis said. His fierce look melted away as he realized—incorrectly, of course—that Klaus was joking. “A disguise? Ho ho ho!”
“Hee hee hee!” Nero laughed.
Violet and Sunny both saw at once what Klaus was doing, and they followed suit. “Oh yes, Genghis,” Violet cried, as if she were joking, “take your turban off and show us the one eyebrow you are hiding! Ha ha ha!”
“You three children are really quite funny!” Nero cried. “You’re like three professional comedians!”
“Volasocks!” Sunny shrieked, showing all four teeth in a fake smile.
“Oh yes,” Klaus said. “Sunny is right! If you were really Olaf in disguise, then your running shoes would be covering your tattoo!”
“Hee hee hee!” Nero said. “You children are like three clowns!”
“Ho ho ho!” Count Olaf said.
“Ha ha ha!” Violet said, who was beginning to feel queasy from faking all this laughter. Looking up at Genghis, and smiling so hard that her teeth ached, she stood on tiptoe and tried to reach his turban. “I’m going to rip this off,” she said, as if she were still joking, “and show off your one eyebrow!”
“Hee hee hee!” Nero said, shaking his pigtails in laughter. “You’re like three trained monkeys!”
Klaus crouched down to the ground and grabbed one of Genghis’s feet. “And I’m going to rip your shoes off,” he said, as if he were still joking, “and show off your tattoo!”
“Hee hee hee!” Nero said. “You’re like three—”
The Baudelaires didn’t get to hear what they were three of, because Coach Genghis stuck out both of his arms, catching Klaus with one hand and Violet with the other. “Ho ho ho!” he said, and then abruptly stopped laughing. “Of course,” he said in a tone of voice that was suddenly serious, “I can’t take off my running shoes, because I’ve been exercising and my feet smell, and I can’t take off my turban for religious reasons.”
“Hee hee—” Nero stopped giggling and became very serious himself. “Oh, Coach Genghis,” he said, “we wouldn’t ask you to violate your religious beliefs, and I certainly don’t want your feet stinking up my office.”
Violet struggled to reach the turban and Klaus struggled to remove one of the evil coach’s shoes, but Genghis held them both tight.
“Drat!” Sunny shrieked.
“Joke time is over!” Nero announced. “Thank you for brightening up my morning, children. Good-bye, and enjoy your breakfast without silverware! Now, Coach Genghis, what can I do for you?”
“Well, Nero,” Genghis said, “I just wanted to give you this rose—a small gift of congratulations for the wonderful concert you gave us last night!”
“Oh, thank you,” Nero said, taking the rose out of Genghis’s hand and giving it a good smell. “I was wonderful, wasn’t I?”
“You were perfection!” Genghis said. “The first time you played your sonata, I was deeply moved. The second time, I had tears in my eyes. The third time, I was sobbing. The fourth time, I had an uncontrollable emotional attack. The fifth time—”
The Baudelaires did not hear about the fifth time because Nero’s door swung shut behind them. They looked at one another in dismay. The Baudelaires had come very close to revealing Coach Genghis’s disguise, but close was not enough. They trudged silently out of the administrative building and over to the cafeteria. Evidently, Nero had already called the metal-masked cafeteria workers, because when Violet and Klaus reached the end of the line, the workers refused to hand them any silverware. Prufrock Prep was not serving oatmeal for breakfast, but Violet and Klaus knew that eating scrambled eggs with their hands was not going to be very pleasant.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Isadora said when the children slid glumly into seats beside the Quagmires. “Here, Klaus and I will take turns with my si
lverware, and you can share with Duncan, Violet. Tell us how everything went in Nero’s office.”
“Not very well,” Violet admitted. “Coach Genghis got there right after we did, and we didn’t want him to see that we knew who he really was.”
Isadora pulled her notebook out of her pocket and read out loud to her friends.
“It would be a stroke of luck
if Coach Genghis were hit by a truck,”
she read. “That’s my latest poem. I know it’s not that helpful, but I thought you might like to hear it anyway.”
“I did like hearing it,” Klaus said. “And it certainly would be a stroke of luck if that happened. But I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“Well, we’ll think of another plan,” Duncan said, handing Violet his fork.
“I hope so,” Violet said. “Count Olaf doesn’t usually wait very long to put his evil schemes into action.”
“Kosbal!” Sunny shrieked.
“Does Sunny mean ‘I have a plan’?” Isadora asked. “I’m trying to get the hang of her way of talking.”
“I think she means something more like ‘Here comes Carmelita Spats,’” Klaus said, pointing across the cafeteria. Sure enough, Carmelita Spats was walking toward their table with a big, smug smile on her face.
“Hello, you cakesniffers,” she said. “I have a message for you from Coach Genghis. I get to be his Special Messenger because I’m the cutest, prettiest, nicest girl in the whole school.”
“Oh, stop bragging, Carmelita,” Duncan said.
“You’re just jealous,” Carmelita replied, “because Coach Genghis likes me best instead of you.”
“I couldn’t care less about Coach Genghis,” Duncan said. “Just deliver your message and leave us alone.”
“The message is this,” Carmelita said. “The three Baudelaire orphans are to report to the front lawn tonight, immediately after dinner.”
“After dinner?” Violet said. “But after dinner we’re supposed to go to Nero’s violin recital.”