CHAPTER 20

EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Atychiphobia is the fear of failure.

Shrill, hysterical, and bananas were the only words to describe Mrs. Wellington after the news came. Utterly incapable of conversing or standing still, Mrs. Wellington stormed through the house saying the name Abernathy over and over again. She would start low, almost at a whisper, and build up until she was screaming at a piercing level. All the while, she clacked through the Great Hall, passing through the airplane, around the jumbled mess of stairs, across the polo field, through the Fearnasium, upstairs, back downstairs, into the kitchen, the dining room, the classroom, and so on. Behind the frazzled and frantic woman were the arguing men, Schmidty and Munchauser, each elbowing the other to get closer to Mrs. Wellington.

“Welly! What were you going to guess? Please tell me. I need to know. Do you want me to guess what you were going to guess?”

“Madame, please stop! All this storming around can’t be good for your knees or my arthritis!”

However, Mrs. Wellington paid them no mind and continued storming hysterically through the house.

Trailing vigilantly behind Schmidty and Munchauser were Madeleine, Theo, Garrison, Lulu, and Macaroni. It was an odd sort of parade.

“What is going on?” Garrison screamed at no one in particular.

“Personally, I’m relieved. I prefer her lawyer to an earthquake, even with all the bets,” Theo said in an oddly calm voice.

“Hello? Schmidty? We’re talking to you!” Lulu hollered.

“This is absolute mayhem! Bedlam! Pandemonium!” Madeleine said to Theo. “What is happening here? I never thought it possible, but this school has actually become crazier than before!”

“Did you see his fingernails?” Theo responded, totally ignoring Madeleine’s comments. “A year’s worth of bacteria under there. There is no way I’m shaking his hand or touching anything he touches. That kind of dirt, well, it can put you in the hospital for weeks. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if there were rare viruses under there. On second thought, an earthquake would have been safer.”

“Theo, did you even hear a word I said?” Madeleine retorted.

“Madeleine, we are in the presence of a Center for Disease Control offender, someone who balks at basic hygiene. I don’t have time to keep track of every little thing you say!”

And with that the frenzied parade meandered through the house, the participants muttering to themselves.

One by one, people peeled off. First was Lulu, who decided she would rather do just about anything other than follow a bunch of lunatics around the manse, especially since everyone was ignoring her questions. The next defector was Theo, who took Macaroni with him, as the dog had begun panting rather loudly. In truth, Theo had been winded as well; neither dog nor boy was prepared for such a workout. Theo and Macaroni ducked into the kitchen, where they scoured cupboards and drawers for the best of the Casu Frazigu–free food. Theo also took it upon himself to close the Dire Disaster Door, after worrying that one of his classmates or even Macaroni might fall in.

Madeleine departed the tour when it ventured outdoors. She had no intention of entering the spider and bug kingdom. Moreover, this reminded her that Munchauser had climbed through a dark cavern, where heaven knows what may have attached to the putrid man. Sickened by the thought, she knew it was time to wash her hair with the hard stuff: boric acid shampoo.

Garrison stayed the longest, mostly out of curiosity. He simply had no idea what was happening or how it would turn out.

“Welly, you were just joking when you said you’d cut me out of the will, right?”

“I’m not ready for Abernathy!” Mrs. Wellington cried.

“Would you stop about the will!” Schmidty roared at Munchauser.

“Bet you a hundred dollars I’m getting more than you, fat fool.”

“You don’t even have one dollar, let alone one hundred, you ugly beast!”

“Take that back or I’ll sue you for slander!”

“Abernathy!” Mrs. Wellington continued.

“Please, Madame, please, calm down.”

By this point Garrison had completely stopped asking who Abernathy was, because, quite frankly, he realized no one had any intention of telling him. So instead of questioning, he simply listened and lent a hand to Schmidty when the old man began hobbling. This was more exercise than Schmidty had done in twenty years, as evidenced by his messy façade. Schmidty’s slacks had fallen below his massive gut; his white dress shirt was partially unbuttoned and covered in perspiration circles; but worst of all, his hair had fallen. The elaborate comb-over turban was in the process of unfolding, and it wasn’t pretty.

By the tenth lap around the classroom, Schmidty heeded Garrison’s advice and agreed to sit down.

“Madame needs me… .”

“Schmidty, you can barely walk, and your hair, well, it’s not good. You need to rest.”

“Well, maybe for a minute. Madame can handle Munchauser alone for a bit, I suppose.”

“Schmidty, I’ve just spent the last few hours chasing you around the house. You need to tell me who this Abernathy guy is.”

“Dear Mr. Garrison, it’s a rather depressing story. I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell it without a few tears.”

“Okay,” Garrison said uncomfortably, confused why a grown man needed to cry while telling a story. On second thought, Garrison wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Schmidty cry, especially with his hair in such ruins. The man looked downright wretched, and he hadn’t even started crying yet. “Maybe you should try and keep it together, you know, in case Mrs. Wellington needs something.”

“You are quite right, Mr. Garrison.”

“Okay, now out with it. Who is Abernathy?”

“I have long tried to get Madame to accept the Abernathy situation, but she wouldn’t have any of it. If I’m being brutally honest, Madame isn’t terribly good at admitting her shortcomings. She prefers to feign ignorance of any inadequacies. Why, she often pretended she had forgotten who the boy was, which I clearly knew to be false. Occasionally she would even mumble his name in her sleep, sometimes apologizing, other times angry —”

“Please, Schmidty, I’m really trying to be patient, but who is Abernathy?” Garrison interrupted with mounting frustration at Schmidty’s verbose tale.

“He is her greatest weakness, and as any good fortune cookie can tell you, we are only as strong as our weakest part.”

“Please Schmidty, for the last time, who is he?”

“Her one failure …”

“What does that mean? Tell me who he is in plain thirteen-year-old English.”

“Abernathy is the one student she couldn’t help throughout the years. So many have come and gone, I’ve lost track. All have gone on to lovely lives, except for Abernathy. She never could help him, and oddly the more she tried, the worse he became.”

“Schmidty, are you really telling me that Mrs. Wellington, the crazy lady in the wig who has been teaching me how to wave with Vaseline all over my mouth, has actually helped people with their fears?” Garrison said with profound shock.

“Oh, yes. Madame is a brilliant teacher.”

“And when you say ‘students’ you mean actual human beings, not the cats?”

“Oh, no. I am referring to children, human children. Madame has treated so many; you should see the load of holiday cards she receives every year.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“The failure of Abernathy has tortured her, almost destroyed her many times. And when I say failure I mean catastrophic, dismal, utterly horrendous, tortuous failure.”

Garrison sat shell-shocked, unsure what to think of the information he had just been given. Something wasn’t right. Maybe Schmidty was older and a bit more senile than he seemed. Garrison stared as the old man attempted to reposition his comb-over without the aid of a comb. It was no simple task, as the man usually spent twenty minutes with a vat of hairspray to get it in place. Just as Garrison was preparing to bring Madeleine down to redo Schmidty’s hair, a roar cut through the house. This wasn’t a roar like that of a lion; it was a great deal closer to that of a diesel engine, only categorically human.

The disturbing roar roused the curiosity of all who heard it. Madeleine, dressed in her pink dressing gown with a built-in veil, immediately ran downstairs, worried that Munchauser and Schmidty had finally come to blows. In defense of Schmidty, Madeleine was prepared to unleash a hailstorm of repellent. In the kitchen, Theo and Macaroni both froze mid-chew. Normally, Theo would have bolted immediately, but he simply didn’t think he could handle any more drama, so he continued eating, albeit with an ear out for other suspicious sounds. While Theo wasn’t absolutely certain, he thought Macaroni was chewing lighter in an effort to help them monitor what was happening in the house. Just as Theo shoved an exceptionally large piece of bread into his mouth, he heard Schmidty’s sweet voice crack in agony. Macaroni took off first, with Theo fast behind him.

Theo’s mouth became dry with fear as he followed Macaroni toward the polo field. The bread in his mouth was dense and now seemingly impossible to swallow. Without doubling back to the kitchen for a glass of milk, Theo had no other choice but to spit the large and half-chewed wad of bread on the floor before entering the field.

Madeleine, Munchauser, and Schmidty were standing in a line, staring ominously at the floor while Lulu and Garrison stood off in a corner whispering.

“What’s all the ruckus?” Theo said as he pushed his face between Schmidty and Munchauser to see what was happening. It was a sight Theo would always remember. More disconcerting than anything he had ever experienced before, even his grandmother’s passing. There in front of him was Mrs. Wellington’s ashen face and pale blue lips. Her eyes were closed and her wig was crooked, partially exposing her scaly bald head.

“Welly’s dead,” Munchauser announced coldly.