Fart Squad (6 page)

“Watch out!” he warned. “Fire in the hole!”

A volcanic fart erupted through the seat of his jeans. He tried to control it, but it was like a blowtorch. The thermometer blew its top. Overheated burritos exploded, spraying beans everywhere. Goopy burrito guts were splattered over everyone's hair and clothes. Even Tina was a mess.

“Nooooooooooooooooo!” she exclaimed in horror. “I've been burrito'd!”

“I'm sorry!” Darren shouted. “I told you I couldn't control it!”

Darren surveyed the damage. Thanks to him, his new friends looked like they had just gone swimming in vomit, there was a gaping hole in his pants, and he'd made a giant fool out of himself.

Not exactly the picture of a future leader.

“S
o where were you on Saturday?” Andy asked. “I thought I was going to help you with your report?”

“Um, my folks grounded me,” Darren fibbed. It was recess, and they were catching up in the school yard. Darren felt bad about lying to his friend, but what else could he do? “Thanks for offering, though.”

“Get ready to thank me some more,” Andy said, bubbling over with excitement. “Guess what? I found the missing pages from that old book on the Buttz family!”

Darren couldn't believe his ears. “Really?”

“Yep!” Andy couldn't wait to fill him in. “I searched around online and finally found some scans of another copy of the book.” He pulled the printouts from his backpack. “It's all here—everything about the curse and the cure and what happened next.”

Darren was too impatient to read through the pages. “Tell me!”

“Okay,” Andy said. “As you know, legend has it
that the Buttzes' never-ending itch goes way, way back. But generations ago, Harry's great-great-not-sure-how-many-greats grandfather, Scabious Buttz, forged the Golden Scratcher, a magical golden butt scratcher that brought them some relief. The catch? There's only so much itchiness the Scratcher can handle before it gets overloaded, like a dam that's holding back too much water. At a certain point, people got worried that the Scratcher was on the verge of spilling all that concentrated itchiness all over Buttzville, so concerned citizens stole the Scratcher and buried it in a swamp where they were sure nobody would ever find it. But guess where the town eventually built the new elementary school?”

“Right on top of the Scratcher,” Darren realized.

“Bingo,” Andy said. “At least according to the legend, that is.”

That's what Harry is looking for in the basement, Darren realized, putting more of the pieces of the puzzle together. Harry was determined to cure his itchy behind, no matter the risk to the town. But where did the bad burritos and stolen lunches fit in? Darren felt like he was still missing something.

The lunch bell rang and they headed inside, only to find a crowd of hungry kids tugging at the door to the coatroom. Miss Priscilly stood by helplessly, looking overwhelmed.

“What is it?” Darren asked, his stomach grumbling. “What's the matter?”

“Somebody superglued the lock shut,” Bootsie said, eager to be the bearer of bad news. “Nobody can get to their lunch boxes!”

“That sucks,” Andy said to Darren. “Looks like we're all going to have to try the lunchroom special today.”

Darren's jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh,” he exclaimed.

Suddenly, it all made sense, sorta. This was what Harry had wanted to do all along, to get the entire school so farty, they'd be forced to evacuate the building, so that he could get to the basement and dig up the Golden Scratcher.

“Uh-oh,” Darren gasped. “This isn't good.”

The very idea of Harry getting his hands on the Scratcher made Darren's stomach churn. Harry's itchy butt might be enough to push the Scratcher
over the edge and to flood the entire town with never-ending itches!

Darren thought about melting the glue with a volcanic fart, but after what happened with the beans, that didn't seem like a good idea. Even if he didn't scorch all the lunches by accident, who would want to eat food that had been farted on?

Plus, he couldn't exactly unleash a fart in front of Miss Priscilly. . . .

He had to find
another
way to stop anybody else from eating those burritos!

“I just remembered there's something I have to do,” Darren told Andy. He dashed toward the cafeteria. “Gotta run!”

Darren hated ditching Andy again, but there was no time to lose. He raced into the cafeteria at top speed.

Sure enough, there were already plenty of students lined up for today's lunch: “Magic Monday Burritos.” Darren shuddered at the thought of all those kids consuming the radioactive beans. The four members of the Fart Squad were one thing, but
hundreds of kids farting with complete abandon would be a catastrophe. The entire school would be one big gassy chain reaction. They would have to clear out the building—and give Harry a straight shot at the Golden Scratcher.

Unless Darren did something right away.

“Excuse me!” he shouted, cutting to the head of the line. “Comin' through!”

Angry voices protested his lack of proper lunch line etiquette, but Darren ignored them. Instead he grabbed the burritos off every kid's tray, before anyone else could eat one, and started wolfing them down with his bare hands. A familiar rumble ignited in his stomach.

Time to fight fire with fire,
he thought.
Just one decent fart might be enough to empty the cafeteria—and kill everybody's appetite.

“Whoa,” he warned, clutching his stomach. “Better stay away from those burritos. I feel something nasty coming on!”

The fart erupted like a volcano, charring his pants. The line behind him broke apart as gagging students scrambled to get away from the sickening odor. For a moment, Darren thought he had saved the day. Nobody else was going to be eating those burritos now!

But then a second fart erupted from him. This one was even bigger and hotter than the first. It set off the fire alarm.

And the sprinkler system.

Cold water sprayed down from the ceiling. Shrieking kids ran from the cafeteria and out of the building. A blaring siren drove everybody toward the exits. Soaked, Darren spotted Janitor Stan assisting in the evacuation, along with all the other teachers and staff.

“Oh no!” Darren realized. His plan had backfired . . . in more ways than one.

This was exactly the kind of distraction Harry had been trying to arrange!

Darren looked around, but didn't see Harry or the B.O. twins anywhere. Buttzville was in danger, Darren realized, and it was all his fault because he hadn't been able to control the superheated gasses surging inside him. He knew he had to make things right, even if it meant gobbling more radioactive burritos. He took out his phone and texted the rest of the Fart Squad:

BASEMENT—ASAP!

Ignoring the fire alarm, he filled a tray with burritos and sprinted to the basement entrance, his sneakers sloshing noisily. Walter, Juan-Carlos, and Tina came running to join him.

“What's up?” Juan-Carlos asked. “Where's the fire?” He waited for a laugh. “Fire, get it? 'Cause, you know, the alarm?”

Darren ignored him. “It's Harry Buttz!” he said. “He's after the Golden Scratcher!”

“The golden what?” Tina asked.

Darren remembered that the other Squad members hadn't heard that part of the legend yet. He quickly filled them in even as he worried about
Harry getting to the Scratcher at last. Scabious Buttz's unnatural invention had been buried for a reason. . . .

“We need to keep that Scratcher away from Harry and his goons—before they accidentally unleash an avalanche of itchiness on the whole town!”

“Hold on there!” Walter said. “An enchanted butt scratcher? Really?”

“Says the guy who can float like a balloon,” Juan-Carlos pointed out.