Fart Squad (4 page)

A huge wave soaked Darren, Juan-Carlos, and Tina, but they hurried to fish Walter from the pool regardless. Dripping wet, he was even heavier than he looked.

“Wow!” Juan-Carlos said. “That was a real power dive! You practically emptied the pool!”

Walter looked like he was just glad to be on solid ground again.

Darren's sneakers sloshed. The gym was flooded. They were so going to be busted.

“I'll handle this mess,” Stan the janitor said. He appeared as if from nowhere, mop in hand. He winked at the kids. “You better make tracks before you end up having to answer some very awkward questions.”

“Thanks, Stan,” Darren said. “But—”

“Meet me by the janitor's closet,” Stan said. “All of you.”

Darren hesitated, wanting answers, but Tina tugged on his arm. “You heard the man. Let's go—unless you want everybody to know your butt is a biohazard!”

“Good point,” Darren said, heading for the nearest exit as he wondered what in the world Stan could possibly want to talk about.

“I
thought I smelled you coming!” Stan said.

Darren and his new friends crowded into the janitor's closet, which was stuffed with mops, brooms, and buckets.

“Sorry about the smell . . . ,” Darren said. “It's like these farts are supercharged or something!”

“Is that so?” Stan seemed very interested in what Darren had to say. “Tell me more.”

Darren explained how each kid's farts worked. It was such a relief to be able to talk about the farts to
someone
outside the foursome. Walter could blast off into the air. Juan-Carlos's farts were time bombs, going off minutes after he'd planted them. Tina's were stealth bombs that made no noise but stank worse than a sewer explosion. And Darren's burned like fire.

“There's nothing natural about these farts,” Darren insisted.

“It's the burritos,” Stan explained. “The lunch lady doesn't like to waste any food. So ever since the burritos got their bad rap and kids stopped eating them, she's taken to throwing the leftovers in the microwave every day. At this point, they've been heated and reheated so many times they're undoubtedly radioactive. I wouldn't be surprised if they glowed in the dark!”

“So mutated beans turned us into mutant beings?” Juan-Carlos joked.

“Something like that,” Stan said.

“And you know this how?” Tina asked.

“Just by keeping my eyes open,” the janitor said. “Trust me, I take out the trash every day, and the lunchroom has
never
tossed out any uneaten burritos.”

“But nobody ever eats them,” Juan-Carlos said. “Unless they have to.”

“We did,” Tina said. “Because the B.O. twins swiped our lunches.”

“Wait a second,” Darren said. “What if the B.O. twins swiped our lunches because they wanted us to eat those toxic burritos?”

“Actually, they weren't all that unappetizing,” Walter said. His bulging stomach grumbled. “Is it lunchtime yet?”

“Don't even think about it,” Tina said. “We're not peeling you off the ceiling again.”

Juan-Carlos was still confused. “But what was the point? Why would they want to force people to eat bad burritos?”

“I'm not sure,” Darren admitted. He felt like a puzzle was coming together, but he didn't have all
the pieces yet. “But I'm pretty sure it was Harry Buttz's idea . . . and that he's not done yet.”

Tina raised her hand. “If we don't eat the burritos again, will our farts go back to normal?”

“Possibly,” Stan said, “but do you really want them to? Seems to me you've all been given some very special gifts. Smelly, but special.” His voice grew more serious. “You know what they say:

“Er, I don't think anybody actually says that,” Juan-Carlos said.

“Think about the possibilities. The question is do you want to lose your new fart abilities . . . or learn to control them?”

Darren remembered how he had bowled over the B.O. twins with a well-timed fart, saving himself and Andy from the bullies. And how he and the others had used their powers to clear the auditorium and
get Walter off the ceiling. Granted, without the new fart abilities Walter wouldn't have been anywhere near the ceiling to begin with, but still, their new “gifts” had opened up a lot of possibilities for them.

“Control them?” he asked. “How?”

“I can teach you,” Stan volunteered, putting on a rising-sun headband. “I can be your ‘scent-sei.'”

“Good one,” said Juan-Carlos. “I wish I had come up with that.”

Tina raised her hand again. “Sir, why you? No offense.”

“I'm the janitor,” he reminded her. “Smelly stuff is my specialty.”

Juan-Carlos shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

“Listen,” Stan urged them, “you've already proven that you make a great team. With a little coaching, you can become . . . the Fart Squad!”

“But we're not heroes,” Darren said. “Why would we need superpowers? It's not like there are any real bad guys around.”

Stan shook his head in disbelief. “Are you sure about that?”

Darren thought of Harry Buttz and B.O., who he was pretty sure were up to no good. There were the stolen lunches, after all, and the way Harry and the twins had tried to sneak into the school basement afterward. They were after something, but what? Did it have to do with the Buttz family curse—and the missing pages?

“I overheard Harry say something to B.O. about ‘next time,'” he told the others. “I don't know exactly what he meant, but I don't think this is over yet . . . whatever it is.”

“So maybe the Fart Squad needs to be ready,” Stan said.

“For what?” Tina asked.

Darren wished he knew.