Free School of Fear by Gitty Daneshvari Page A

batty.
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 10
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Lachanophobia is the fear of vegetables.
     
     

    C ontestants, contestants, please listen,” Mrs. Wellington announced to Lulu, Theo, Madeleine, and Garrison.
    “What did you call us?” Lulu asked confrontationally.
    “Contestants. Is English not your first language, Lulu?”
    “Of course, but we’re not contestants, we’re students.”
    “Well, if you insist English is your first language, perhaps it simply isn’t your best subject, because you are definitely
     a contestant.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Yes, Lulu, you most certainly are.”
    “All right, then what am I a contestant in?” Lulu asked with raised eyebrows and a self-assured smirk.
    “In the beauty pageant of life, you silly little freckle-faced girl,” Mrs. Wellington continued as if it were the most obvious
     of answers.
    “Life is not a beauty pageant,” Lulu responded.
    “Then why am I wearing lipstick?”
    Lulu stared at Mrs. Wellington, dumbfounded by her rationale.
    “A beauty queen is always prepared,” Mrs. Wellington said, answering her own question, or so she thought. “Now then, you children
     must be famished. And a hungry contestant is soon to be a grumpy one, so leave your bags here; Schmidty will handle them after
     lunch. Follow me and don’t touch anything. I don’t take kindly to dirty hands,” Mrs. Wellington said as she led the students
     past the stairway to the start of the Great Hall.
    A wave of weakness passed through the children’s knees. They had never seen anything of such grandeur and peculiarity in all
     their lives. The Great Hall was at least three hundred feet long and fifteen feet wide with a high arched ceiling. Thick gold-and-white
     stripes decorated the walls along with elaborate black wrought-iron sconces. At the very end of the hall was a floor-to-ceiling
     stained glass window of a young woman adorned with a crown and sash.
    However, most notably, there was an infinite array of one-of-a-kind doors flowing from the floor to the walls to the ceiling,
     each distinctive in size, material, and design. A mere inch from the threshold on the floor was the first door, crafted out
     of an open-faced pocket watch. It ticked loudly, echoing through the expansive hall. Much as a musician does with a metronome,
     Mrs. Wellington aligned her steps to the tick of the secondhand. Lulu watched the old woman closely, noticing that not only
     did she walk to the beat of the clock, but she blinked to it.
    With her eyes still plastered to Mrs. Wellington, Lulu was the first to speak. “Um, what’s the point?”
    “What do you mean?” Mrs. Wellington asked sweetly.
    “What’s with the strange doors? Do they all lead somewhere?”
    “Everything leads somewhere. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” Mrs. Wellington said as they passed a four-by-four-foot
     door suspended in the middle of the wall.
    It had a copper knob so imposing it would take three strapping men just to open it. While the students stared at the giant
     doorknob, Mrs. Wellington stopped in front of a chalkboard door complete with erasers and a chalk tray. While eight feet high,
     the chalkboard door was only two feet wide. The special, grilled cheese sandwiches, was written vertically in bright pink
     chalk. Mrs. Wellington opened the door and slid through sideways into the formal dining room.
    “Please suck in your bellies; hefty contestants have been known to get stuck,” Mrs. Wellington advised while looking directly
     at Theo.
    Lulu pushed past the others and followed the old dame into the room. Garrison immediately trailed Lulu, and Theo graciously
     allowed Madeleine to go ahead of him. While Madeleine thought Theo a well-mannered boy, the truth was far more self-serving;
     he didn’t want anyone to see him suck in his belly.
    The décor of the dining room was best described as that of a grandmother’s house. It was formal, dated, and extremely worn
     down by the