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building. Lulu tried to bully the security guard into letting her climb the fire escape,
     but he politely declined.
    “If you don’t let me on the fire escape, I swear, you’ll never see your kids again,” Lulu said in her best gangster impression.
    “I don’t have kids,” the security guard said with a yawn.
    “Um, I meant your wife.”
    “I don’t have a wife.”
    “What about friends?”
    “Don’t have those either.”
    “Come on,” Lulu said with frustration, “everyone has friends.”
    “Not me. All I have is a goldfish.”
    “Okay, loser,” Lulu said with a roll of her eyes, “if you ever want to see that fish again, I suggest you let me on the fire
     escape. Otherwise, I’ll be sautéing the little guy for dinner.”
    “Threatening a man’s fish, that’s cold, but you still can’t go on the fire escape.”
    “Ugh!” Lulu huffed as she stormed out of the building; it was impossible to coerce a man whose only friend was a fish.
    In a rather unorthodox move, Dr. Guinness agreed to conduct the sessions in his car in the parking lot. Instead of sitting
     on the therapist’s couch, Lulu sat in the backseat and Dr. Guinness in the front. Occasionally, it grew so stuffy in the car,
     he turned on his noisy diesel-guzzling 1973 Mercedes to run the air-conditioning. Due to the strict doctor-patient confidentiality
     agreement, the windows could not be lowered more than a crack, lest someone walk by and eavesdrop.
    After five months, Dr. Guinness had developed heat rash, as well as a severe neck cramp from craning to see Lulu in the backseat.
     He requested a meeting with her parents in the car after Lulu’s session.
    “I’m afraid it’s time to terminate my relationship with Lulu,” Dr. Guinness calmly explained.
    “What? You can’t be serious. It’s only been five months; my wife’s been in therapy for ten years, and her doctor hasn’t dumped
     her!” Mr. Punchalower fumed while simultaneously typing on his BlackBerry.
    “Edward, please refrain from using the word
dump
!” Mrs. Punchalower retorted, “And Jeffrey is a
life coach
, not a therapist.”
    “I think you’ve misunderstood me. I believe that Lulu needs a more intense program than I can offer. Something very unique,
     very
exclusive
.”
    “Yes?” Mr. and Mrs. Punchalower said.
    Their eyes lit up at the word “exclusive.” Nothing pleased them more than being “exclusive.”
    “I’m talking about School of Fear,” Dr. Guinness said in the quietest of all whispers.

CHAPTER 4
EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF SOMETHING:
Agyrophobia is the fear of crossing the street.
     
     

    H idden deep within a rural pocket in Northwestern Massachusetts was a small town known as Farmington. For a lucky four hundred
     and four people, twenty-eight dogs, forty-nine cats, and six horses it was home. While there were many other creatures from
     squirrels to turtles living in the town, they weren’t registered with the county and, therefore, didn’t make the yearly census.
    Farmington was oddly untouched by time. Missing were any signs of corporate America such as Wal-Mart, Starbucks, or McDonald’s.
     Instead, each shop was privately owned with hand-painted signs to prove it. There was one main street, rather straightforwardly
     called Main Street, on which sat McMillan’s Grocery Store, the post office, Henry’s newsstand, Farmy’s diner, and the sheriff’s
     office.
    Nearly all of the four hundred and four human residents (and many of the animal ones) lived on the roads surrounding Main
     Street, creating an extremely tight-knit community. A few people inhabited the surrounding wilderness, only sporadically venturing
     into town for mail and provisions. The ever-elusive headmistress of the School of Fear, Mrs. Wellington, and her caretaker,
     Schmidty, lived the farthest from town, atop a four-acre plateau with two-hundred-foot protective granite cliffs on all sides.
     Scientists supposed the unusual granite mountain was the result of a