The Final Exam Read Free

calls,” Lulu grumbled with unmistakable repulsion.
    “Madame is experiencing emotions such as sorrow, regret, and melancholy for the first time in decades, and understandably she’s rather overwhelmed,” Schmidty explained as the old woman wiped away tears.
    “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 andAbernathy 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.

N ot 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 sphericalsnout 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