“Abernathy hates me,” Mrs. Wellington muttered. “My own stepson despises me, and soon the whole world will know that I failed him as both a parent and a teacher. The school will close and there’ll be nothing left for me in this life!”
“No way, Mrs. Wellington! We’re not going to let that happen,” Garrison stated confidently. “You and Abernathy are going to work things out. It’s like the Red Sox–Yankees rivalry; it’s time for this to end. And once it does, we’ll show Sylvie Montgomery that her information is wrong, and she’ll have no choice but to kill the story.”
At that moment, a light snorting sound reverberated through the room, coming from the far window. At first no one paid it any mind, but as the sniffing grew heavier, Mrs. Wellington turned her head in curiosity.
“The pig is back!” the old woman screamed, deftly jumping to her feet and grabbing a nearby lamp and flinging it at the window.
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Swinophobia is the fear
of pigs or swine.
Not only did Sylvie Montgomery sound like a pig, she also very much resembled a member of the swine family. Her rosy complexion, drooping midsection, and dome-shaped derriere, complete with a protruding tailbone, were rather striking. But in truth it was her nose, thick and bulbous, that cemented her piglike appearance. Her nose dominated her face, making it nearly impossible to notice any of Sylvie’s other features. But she didn’t mind, for that swollen spherical snout was her secret weapon. It alerted her to the presence of classified information, which Sylvie then tenaciously went after, relentlessly digging until she got to the bottom of the story. And with a mere three weeks until her article was to go to press, Sylvie was determined to uncover every last fact about Mrs. Wellington, Abernathy, and the school on the hill.
As Sylvie peeked through the window of the school, the lamp Mrs. Wellington had hurled in her direction crashed to the floor with such thunder that Schmidty and the students actually shrieked. Sylvie withdrew from the window, waddling quickly away before Mrs. Wellington could lob anything else at her.
“Might I suggest using a tad more emotional control when meeting with Abernathy?” Madeleine said delicately to Mrs. Wellington.
“But you’ve got to admit she’s got pretty good aim for an old lady,” Lulu noted admiringly.
“Spoken like a true juvenile delinquent,” Theo replied judgmentally to Lulu, who rather expectedly rolled her eyes in response.
“Come on, we better get dressed. Abernathy will be up soon,” Garrison said to Lulu, Theo, and Madeleine, while Mrs. Wellington and Schmidty remained seated in the drawing room.
“I can’t believe Abernathy’s sleeping in the basement,” Madeleine said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Um, hello? The kitty spa is down there. I bet that place is pure luxury. Plus, there’s the artificial cat tongue,” Theo said excitedly as the group made their way into the Great Hall.
As the pudgy-cheeked boy pondered the mechanics of building a synthetic tongue, Madeleine fretted over her clothing options for the day ahead. She had watched enough C-SPAN to know that the Abernathy-Wellington summit warranted a smart outfit. However, just as she decided on a navy dress with white piping, the sound of glass fracturing erupted through the Great Hall. After exchanging tense glances, the foursome dashed down the remainder of the corridor and into the foyer. There they were met with a rather disturbing sight: Abernathy smashing one of Mrs. Wellington’s famed pageant photos with his heel. The gangly, gray-skinned man had a permanent hunch from staring at his feet, and in his old flannel shirt and dirty jeans, Abernathy appeared very much out of place amid the grandiosity of Summerstone.
“Abernathy, what on earth are you doing?” Madeleine asked as her blood pressure skyrocketed. The girl had yet to brush her teeth, and already the day was spinning wildly out of control.
“Oh, my bad. I bumped into the wall by accident,” Abernathy said in his squeaky, high-pitched voice. Although the many years of living in the forest had prematurely aged him, his voice remained that of a boy on the cusp of puberty.
“My bad? People who have spent decades in the forest don’t say my bad,” Theo scoffed to the others. “I think he’s been holing up at the Ramada Inn off the interstate, watching cable television and ordering room service. This whole thing is one big con!”
“Actually, Celery taught him that. Pretty cool, right?” Hyacinth said as she bounded down the last of the stairs wearing her ubiquitous pantsuit and with her ferret perched on her shoulder. “And FYI, Celery and I are pretty peeved at you guys for deserting us. You know how much we hate to wake up alone! Besties don’t leave besties, remember? Do I need to sing the ‘Besties Forever’ song again?”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” replied Abernathy, the sole person ever eager to hear Hyacinth’s off-key voice.
“Unfortunately, I think there is a slightly more pressing issue at hand,” Madeleine said seriously.
“Breakfast? I couldn’t agree more,” Theo replied.
“No,” Lulu answered. “We need to hide that picture before Mrs. Wellington sees it. This is not how we want to start the reconciliation.”
“I’m really sorry, guys,” Abernathy chirped, staring intently at his feet. “It was an involuntary reaction. Sort of like when you see a squirrel about to get run over by a car and you dart into the street to save him. It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“Squirrel-cide is a terrible thing to see,” Theo lamented dramatically.
“I hate… her,” Abernathy growled as he focused on another of Mrs. Wellington’s portraits on the wall. A bitter and angry expression overtook his ashen face. Much like a wild animal, he appeared to be running on instincts alone. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who only moments earlier had spoken timidly of rescuing a hypothetical squirrel.
“Well, this should be a piece of cake,” Lulu said sarcastically. “I don’t know what we were worried about.”
“Um, Abernathy refusing to forgive Mrs. Wellington, ruining any and all chances of saving the school,” Theo responded earnestly, then paused before saying, “Oh, wait—that was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?”
Two hours passed before Mrs. Wellington was finally prepared to meet Abernathy face-to-face in the ballroom. For the occasion, she donned a bright yellow dress and petticoat along with a soaring feathered cap. Schmidty worried that she looked a great deal like Big Bird from Sesame Street, but didn’t have the heart to tell her as much. Of course, it certainly didn’t help that her makeup, applied by the legally blind Schmidty, perfectly matched her outfit.
In preparation for the morning summit, Mrs. Wellington demanded that Schmidty make actual Casu Frazigu, also known as maggot cheese. Ever since the cheese had been outlawed for a wide variety of health reasons, he had merely flavored food to taste of Casu Frazigu. However, sensing the fragility of her mood, Schmidty decided it best not to argue. Instead, he tricked Mrs. Wellington by using overcooked granules of rice as a stand-in for maggots.
Believing the Casu Frazigu to be real, Lulu, Theo, Garrison, and Madeleine inched away from the vile delicacy. Theo even went so far as to move the snacks he had brought away from the cheese, worried that an overactive maggot might make the jump.
As the students huddled around the table, Mrs. Wellington, Schmidty, and Macaroni sat stoically on the couch. While waiting for Hyacinth to return with Abernathy, her personal singing companion, Garrison took a moment to remind his peers of the plan.
“As soon as Abernathy enters, I want everyone smiling at him. We need to make him feel welcome,” Garrison whispered. “And remember, be patient—we can’t just jump right into the whole ‘you guys need to work this out’ speech. First we need to say hello, make some small talk, maybe even have a snack—”
“Let’s not forget who brought the non–Casu Frazigu snacks: me!” Theo interrupted while literally reaching his arm around to pat himself on the back.
“But these aren’t the most mature people; it’
s rather plausible they might immediately start yelling,” Madeleine said perceptively. “In truth, there’s really no telling what they’ll do.”
“If they get rowdy, I say we break out some Styrofoam bats and just let them go at it,” Lulu added.
“I don’t think so,” Garrison quickly countered.
“Um, don’t knock it; we did it in family therapy,” Lulu said in response.
“With all due respect, Lulu, from what we’ve heard of your family, the exercise doesn’t appear to have been terribly effective,” Madeleine assessed candidly.
“Yeah, I guess you have a point. But it was really fun, one of the best times of my life,” Lulu said, staring wistfully off into space.
The faint sound of Abernathy and Hyacinth singing Christmas carols suddenly rippled through the ballroom, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention.
“Mister Abernathy certainly enjoys Christmas tunes,” Schmidty said with a nervous smile, and Macaroni tilted his head at the sound of the tonally challenged duo.
“A terribly odd affinity considering he’s Jewish,” Mrs. Wellington mumbled. “He had a bar mitzvah and everything.”
“Being open to other faiths is a wonderful quality,” Madeleine offered optimistically.
“About that bar mitzvah: Did he get a lot of gifts? Not that I am basing my conversion to any religion on the gift-to-child ratio. However, there is no denying that eight days of Hanukkah to one day of Christmas is pretty compelling,” Theo said emphatically.
“Trust me, no one thinks you’re picking a religion based on gifts,” Lulu said with a roll of her eyes. “We all know it’s coming down to the food: Who has the best, and the most of it?”
As Theo prepared a retort, the tone-deaf twosome entered the ballroom. They were met with six tense faces—seven if they counted Macaroni. Instantly unnerved by the room’s many scrutinizing eyes, Abernathy trailed off while staring keenly at his shoes. In stark contrast, Hyacinth continued to sing with all the enthusiasm of a Broadway star on opening night.
“Miss Hyacinth,” Schmidty said loudly, “perhaps now would be a good time to rest your vocal cords.”
“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 th
ey 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.”