Fart Squad by Seamus Pilger Page A

there for him was a horrible discovery. “My lunch! It’s missing!”
    â€œAre you sure?” Andy helped him search the closet, even as the other kids arrived to claim their own lunch boxes and bag lunches. “Maybe you just misplaced it?”
    â€œNo!” Darren insisted. “I put it in the same place every day, right here on the shelf. You know I don’t fool around when it comes to my lunch, especiallyon a day like today—pickles-and-sauerkraut sandwich—my favorite.”

    â€œThe B.O. twins must have swiped it,” Andy guessed. “Bertha had her mouth full, after all, and Oscar’s pockets were bulging.”
    â€œI wouldn’t put it past them,” Darren said, but he was too hungry to worry about that now. “Must . . . have . . . food,” he grunted. His legs felt like overcooked spaghetti, and his brain was foggy. “Get me to the cafeteria.”
    The hike to the cafeteria felt a zillion miles long. By the time they got there, most of their friendswere already eating. Darren scrounged up some leftovers: an apple slice that was already turning brown, a pizza crust with teeth marks around the edge, and crumbs from the bottom of a crumpled bag of potato chips.
    It wasn’t enough. His body needed to refuel, and there was only one thing left to do.

    â€œI’m gonna have to buy lunch.”
    Horrified gasps erupted around the table.
    â€œYou can’t be serious!” Andy said. “Everybody knows that cafeteria food is roadkill.”
    â€œBut I’m starving!” Darren insisted as he licked the last crumbs out of the bag of chips. “I’ve got no choice.”
    â€œDon’t do it, man!” Andy pleaded. “Zero food is better than lunch-lady food!”
    â€œI don’t have a choice!” Darren said. He pickedup a tray and headed for the counter. “Wish me luck. I’m going in!”
    Andy shook his head. “He’s a dead man.”
    â€œWho? Darren?” Bootsie Brown arrived on the scene, sticking her nose in. Bootsie was the biggest snoop in school. She could smell another kid in trouble from two classrooms away. Her eyes zeroed in on Darren. “Okay, this I have to see!”
    His friend’s warnings rang in his ears as Darren got in the lunch line. To his horror, by the time he got his tray, all that was left was the infamous Five-Bean Burritos, the most dreaded of all the school lunches. A few of the specials, like the spaghetti or meat loaf, were at least semi-edible, but nobody in their right mind ever ate the burritos. Terrifying tales were told of what had happened to the last poor soul who had eaten them.
    He eyed the burritos nervously. They looked as greasy and unappetizing as ever. Maybe even a little more so. But what could he do? Darren had run out of options. The horror stories had to just be rumors. How bad could they really be?

    He piled a stack of greasy burritos onto his tray and carried them back to the table. A crowd of kids, including the B.O. twins, gathered around to watch.
    â€œBet you some nerd’s lunch money that he throws up,” Bertha said.
    â€œYou’re on, sis,” Oscar said, chortling. His breath smelled suspiciously of pickles and sauerkraut, but Darren had more immediate concerns at the moment.
    More kids joined the bet. The smart money was on some serious puking . . . or worse.
    â€œYou know, the last kid who ate those had the runs for a month,” Bootsie said. “It’s true. I heard it from my cousin, who heard about it from a kid who knew a kid who used to go to this school. . . .”
    â€œNah,” Andy insisted. “I heard that a kid barfed so much that they had to bring in fire hoses to clean up the cafeteria afterward!”
    Darren turned and gave the B.O. twins a dirty look. If anything like that went wrong, he’d have them to blame.
    â€œHere goes nothing,” he said.

    The crowd gasped in amazement