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turned us into mutant beings?” Juan-Carlos joked.
    â€œSomething like that,” Stan said.
    â€œAnd you know this how?” Tina asked.
    â€œJust 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.”
    â€œBut nobody ever eats them,” Juan-Carlos said. “Unless they have to.”
    â€œWe did,” Tina said. “Because the B.O. twins swiped our lunches.”
    â€œWait a second,” Darren said. “What if the B.O. twins swiped our lunches because they wanted us to eat those toxic burritos?”
    â€œActually, they weren’t all that unappetizing,” Walter said. His bulging stomach grumbled. “Is it lunchtime yet?”
    â€œDon’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?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Darren admitted. He felt like a puzzle was coming together, but he didn’t have allthe 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?”
    â€œPossibly,” 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:

    â€œEr, I don’t think anybody actually says that,” Juan-Carlos said.
    â€œThink 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 andget 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.
    â€œControl them?” he asked. “How?”
    â€œI can teach you,” Stan volunteered, putting on a rising-sun headband. “I can be your ‘scent-sei.’”
    â€œGood one,” said Juan-Carlos. “I wish I had come up with that.”
    Tina raised her hand again. “Sir, why you? No offense.”
    â€œI’m the janitor,” he reminded her. “Smelly stuff is my specialty.”
    Juan-Carlos shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
    â€œListen,” Stan urged them, “you’ve already proven that you make a great team. With a little coaching, you can become . . . the Fart Squad!”
    â€œBut 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?
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œSo maybe the Fart Squad needs to be ready,” Stan said.
    â€œFor what?” Tina asked.
    Darren wished he knew.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    â€œW elcome to Fart Boot Camp!” Stan greeted them.
    The janitor used his keys to let them into the school. Darren usually hung out with Andy on Saturdays. He felt bad about ditching