CHAPTER 14

EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Logizomechanophobia is the fear of computers.

Madeleine longed to see a conservatively stylish bedroom with a globe and a rocking chair when she opened her eyes. Such a refined room would signify that the feet clattering down the hall belonged to her mother and that School of Fear had only been a bizarre dream. However, she knew that even a speck of pink would indicate the continuation of School of Fear. Madeleine took a deep breath before forcing her eyes open. The obliteration of hope burned through her as she saw that she remained in the pink palace.

A few feet away, strands of Lulu’s strawberry blond hair fluttered across her face as she inhaled and exhaled loudly. A familiar voice boomed through the pink door, wrestling Lulu from sleep and Madeleine from thoughts of home.

“Ms. Madeleine, Ms. Lulu, you have fifteen minutes to wash and dress for breakfast. Pay special attention to your teeth. I also encourage the use of mouthwash, as Mrs. Wellington has a terrible aversion to morning breath. She’ll scrub your mouth with baking soda and vinegar for the faintest odor.”

“Got it, Schmidty,” Lulu yelled from her bed before turning toward a morbidly depressed Madeleine. “She’s afraid of morning breath? Whatever. I’m afraid of her bald head.”

“Oh please, you have nothing to worry about. You’re her favorite.”

Inside the yellow bathroom with green accents, Lulu discovered two pajama-clad boys with half-open eyes and a dog at their feet. While barely conscious, Theo and Garrison brushed their teeth with fervor.

“What’s the dog doing in here?” Lulu asked. “And why’s he wearing pajamas?”

“Listen, all I know is I woke up snuggling him,” Theo said with a waterfall of toothpaste coming out of his mouth. “Well, actually, Macaroni was snuggling me.”

“Stop talking and start brushing,” Garrison instructed Lulu. “Hey, Maddie, you better get in here; we have to be down there in less than five minutes.”

Hearing Garrison refer to her as “Maddie” buoyed her spirits, prompting Madeleine to join the others in the bathroom. Four small faces reflected in the mirror as the sound of fast-moving bristles filled the room.

The different brushing styles clearly characterized the children’s personalities: Madeleine preferred a detailed, albeit slow, technique, cleaning each tooth front and back before continuing down the row. Lulu was more haphazard, shoving the toothbrush all around her mouth at an unproductively fast pace. In a testament to Garrison’s strength, he forcefully brushed his tongue while controlling his gag reflex. As for Theo, he reapplied toothpaste to his brush every few seconds. Apparently, he couldn’t adhere to the recommended pea-size application.

Minutes later the messily dressed foursome sat at the dining room table, listening to the crows caw eight times. With their palms awkwardly cupped over their mouths, the students attempted to smell their own breath. Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to experience one’s own breath.

Unsure what their second day held, a mild pulsation formed in Lulu’s left eye, the start of the twitch. She rubbed her eyes harshly, so intensely that when she opened them, spots of light interrupted her vision. Lulu turned her head toward the window and gasped. A man. An outrageously ugly man was peering through the window. Before Lulu was able to formulate words, a spot of light bounced across her vision, obstructing the man’s face.

Unnerved by the situation, Lulu closed her eyes and counted to ten. As she neared the number ten in her mind, she became nervous of either outcome. If he was still there, sheer panic would ensue. Yet if he wasn’t, that meant she had imagined him, which was equally terrifying. She slowly opened her eyes, immediately noticing a potted plant in the exact place she had seen the mangled face. Could she have mistaken the potted plant for a man’s misshaped face?

“I-I saw … ,” Lulu stammered before realizing how crazy she would sound. “I, um, was wondering if someone would smell my breath?”

“No way,” Garrison responded.

“If absolutely necessary, yes, but I would rather not,” Madeleine diplomatically responded.

“Lean in, lady, I’ll take a sniff,” Theo offered warmly.

“Never mind,” Lulu said while staring at Theo’s face.

She didn’t actually want anyone to smell her breath; it was merely the first question that came to her mind.

“What? I’m not good enough to smell your breath?”

Lulu smirked at Theo as he mouthed the word “mean” back to her.

“I see you’ve been informed of the morning breath tests,” Mrs. Wellington said from the hallway, sporting a seersucker sleeveless dress with a petticoat and a matching pillbox hat.

Mrs. Wellington lapped the table once before leaning over Garrison. “Open wide,” Mrs. Wellington said calmly.

Garrison leaned his head back and opened his mouth. He didn’t blow air in Mrs. Wellington’s face; he simply allowed the woman to smell the general area. Sweat formed on his brow as he worried that he hadn’t pushed the toothbrush back far enough on his tongue. It was a delicate job, as too much force could lead to vomit, which never helps one’s breath.

Mrs. Wellington pulled her head away from Garrison and slowly inhaled through her nose. Time seemed to stand still as she pondered his breath much as a scientist would lab results. Finally, the old woman nodded. She then adjusted her small seersucker hat and proceeded on to Madeleine. Although the smell of her breath could easily make it through the veil, Madeleine lifted it over her mouth. Mrs. Wellington quickly nodded and proceeded to check Lulu and Theo. Both students received the nod of approval, much to their relief.

“Very good, contestants. Not only is a beauty queen always prepared, she also doesn’t converse with foul-breathed people,” Mrs. Wellington said as Schmidty and Macaroni entered with a platter of scrambled eggs, muffins, and orange juice. “Open wide, old man.”

“Madame, I am not a student of this institution. I hardly think I am subject to such inspections.”

“You may not be a contestant, but I am a beauty queen. And what do I always say?”

“Never ask a beauty queen her age?”

“No,” Mrs. Wellington responded curtly.

“Always pack an extra wig?”

“No.”

“Match your eye shadow to your clothes?”

“Listen here, old man, you know very well that I always say that a beauty queen doesn’t converse with foul-breathed people.”

“If you say so, Madame.”

“Good, now open wide.”

“Very well, Madame. But I think you should know that I have already ordered the epitaph for your tombstone: ‘As unfailingly stylish as she was mad.’ ”

“Dear man, are you already planning my funeral?”

“Since the day we met.”

“I’ve always admired your foresight.”

Schmidty, seated at the table, used one hand to hold his comb-over in place while leaning back.

“Remember, bad breath is a sign that bacteria is still present, and trust me, bacteria is no present.”

With a saccharine smile, Mrs. Wellington sniffed the inside of Schmidty’s mouth and nodded.

“See how much you’ve already learned!” Mrs. Wellington said.

“What? To brush our teeth?” Lulu asked sarcastically.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but I think I should call my family to check in. A lot of terrible, horrible, dreadful, awful things could have transpired. So can I use the phone?”

Garrison suddenly began to perspire with worry over his white lie the night before. It was completely logical to assume the mansion had phones, so why was his heart racing?

“Of course, Chubby. You may make as many imaginary calls as you like,” Mrs. Wellington said with a smile. “I know how much contestants love to chat.”

Garrison breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing Mrs. Wellington had said imaginary calls.

“What do you mean by imaginary calls?” Garrison asked with mounting perspiration.

“There are no telephone lines on the mountain, so all calls must be kept imaginary.”

“But there are phones in the house?” Garrison spat out nervously.

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Wellington responded.

“Why do you have phones,” Theo asked, “if there are no phone lines?”

“I enjoy the appearance of a phone,” Mrs. Wellington said. “Plus occasionally I like to call myself and check in, see how I’m doing emotionally.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Garrison said while staring at the unusual old woman.

“Do you have a computer or PDA device? You know, a BlackBerry? Sidekick? Something?” Theo asked desperately.

“Absolutely not! No TVs, computers, or phones! The only modern allowances are running water and electricity, and we only have those because the former allows me to wash my wig and the latter to dry it.

“Now, then,” Mrs. Wellington said while completely ignoring the children’s glum expressions, “While you are here, I would prefer to keep you occupied and myself entertained by spending as much of our time as possible inside the Fearnasium. That is why we’re here, isn’t it, contestants?”