Sweet Farts #2: Rippin' It Old School (Sweet Farts Series)

by Raymond Bean

  “I guess. It’s just…I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Just relax,” she said. “Try not to think too much about it. What did you do last time?”

  “Well, last time I was stuck, too. I had no idea what experiment to work on for the fair, and Mr. Cherub told me to think of something that bothers me in the world and change it for the better.”

  “So what is bothering you now?”

  “That’s the problem. I’m not sure.”

  “Just trust yourself and it will come to you. Now, excuse me while I go change the fruit world forever. If you decide you want the square pear idea, just say the word and it’s yours.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The Meeting

  Before I knew it, another week had zipped by. It was already October 23. Grandma was plugging along on her idea, and Anthony and Scott seemed pretty busy with their project. We hadn’t really spent a lot of time together recently, so I called a meeting.

  “Okay, everyone, let’s talk a little about what we have been doing and where we are with our projects. The science fair is four weeks away, and Mr. Gonzalez comes back in just three weeks. It is officially crunch time.”

  “Me and Anthony have parted ways. We’re each doing our own thing,” Scott said. “I can’t stand the smell in there anymore. I’ve decided to give up on the Silencer. It’s just a little too weird trying to invent something that silences farts. The scientists started talking to us about what might be involved, and I decided I didn’t want to spend the next month smelling farts. How did you deal with that last time? It’s gross!”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “I was desperate, I guess. So what are you going to do for the fair?”

  “I’m still thinking about it.”

  “Anthony, please tell me you have something!”

  “As a matter of fact, I think I do, Prut,” he said, smiling.

  “What did you call me?” I asked.

  Scott was smiling, too.

  “I called you Prut,” Anthony replied.

  “What does that mean?”

  “If you were Danish, you would know,” he teased.

  “Well, I’m not Danish. It’s not enough to call me names in English anymore? Now you’re doing it in other languages? Thanks a lot.”

  Scott interrupted: “It means ‘fart’ in Danish. Anthony and I found this amazing Web site that translates any word you want into any language you can think of. And prut means ‘fart’ in Danish,” he said again, looking annoyingly proud of himself.

  “I heard you the first time, Scott. I’m happy to hear you guys are making good use of your time here at the lab. Mr. Gonzalez would be very proud.”

  “Relax, Winderigheid,” Anthony said, smiling. “That means ‘fart’ in Dutch, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t,” I said in a frustrated tone. “Are you going to tell me your idea or not?”

  Anthony began. “It is an unknown fact at Harborside Elementary that I am a bit of a math whiz. Ever since I was real little I could remember all kinds of crazy facts about baseball players, like batting averages and stuff.”

  “So?” I said.

  “So, I realized that I’m pretty good at finding patterns in players’ statistics. I sometimes can predict when a guy is going to get a hit or strike out based on his previous at bats.”

  “So?”

  “So, I think I can take my gift of understanding patterns and use it to predict the lottery numbers. I am going to become a millionaire, Farts. I’m tired of riding your coattails.”

  “Anthony, no offense, but you cannot predict the lottery numbers just because you are good at predicting baseball. And what about the Silencer?”

  “The Silencer grew tiresome. And as far as I can tell, I have a hypothesis and you two have nothing but a nose full of this…” and Anthony let one go.

  Scott didn’t say a word; he just ran for the back door again. I shook my head. I couldn’t figure that kid out. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He never seemed to get embarrassed.

  “Excuse me while I go and try to make my fortune,” Anthony said, and he walked down the hall toward his room.

  “We still need a name for the company!” I yelled after them.

  CHAPTER 17

  Whatevoh

  The whole next week, the only thing I did was work on my swing. I had come to the realization that the fair was going to be a complete failure. Mr. Gonzalez would come back from Africa, and all I would have to show him would be Grandma’s fruit trees and Anthony’s baseball stats. He would kick me out of the lab and that would be the end of it all. Halloween came and went, and I didn’t even trick-or-treat. I was too worried about the fair.

  I woke up on the morning of November 1 knowing two things: First, I was going to lose the lab. That was a certainty. Second, I was about to be humiliated in front of the school, my family, and the whole world on The Helen Winifred Show. A surge of anxiety coursed through my body. When I get upset like that, my mind just locks in on my worries and I can’t get free. No matter how hard I try to think of other things, my mind just won’t let up.

  I pictured the science fair: all the other kids would have their experiments finished. All the parents and teachers would be walking from room to room, checking out the projects. I could see myself in front of an empty desk. When people walked by and asked me where my project was, I would just shrug.

  Then an idea hit me.

  I could say that my experiment involved some element of invisibility, and that in the process of experimenting, the project had become invisible. The only problem was that, if it were invisible, you would still be able to touch it. Invisibility was a crazy idea.

  “Keith!” I heard Mom shout from downstairs. “Your bus is going to be here in a few minutes.” I bolted out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Along the way, I looked out the window and saw that it was snowing for the first time all year. I ran back to my room and pulled a thermal undershirt out of my dresser. Coming out of my room with the thermal still half over my head, I almost ran straight into Emma.

  “Wow! Watch out, Emma,” I said as I sidestepped her. She just kept running right into my room.

  I turned around and followed her.

  “Hey, what’s going on, Emma?”

  She was lying in my bed with the covers pulled up over her head. “I’m not going to school today,” she wailed. “I’m not going to school today or any other day!” I could tell that she was really crying because her voice had that cracking sound it makes when you can’t get your words out.

  “Emma, come on. Of course, you’re going to school today. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Mommy just told me that if I don’t eat breakfast, she won’t let me play with any of my toys anymore.”

  “Emma, Mommy is just worried about you. She doesn’t want to see you get sick. If you don’t eat, you won’t grow, and your body won’t be healthy. Nobody wants that to happen.”

  “It’s just that everything I eat tastes gross except for candy and chips. I can eat healthy when I’m oldow. For now I want to eat candy and chips.”

  “Keith!” Mom shouted again. “You’re going to miss the bus, and I am not driving you today. The roads are horrible. You had better hurry up!”

  I grabbed my backpack. “I’m sorry, Emma. I have to go. Maybe we can talk after school today.”

  “Whatevoh,” she said sadly. “You won’t be home for a long time, and I’ll already be in bed.” She was crying even harder.

  “I’ll try to get home early, Emma. I promise,” I said as I ran out the door and headed for the bus.

  CHAPTER 18

  Go Gooz

  I made it to the bus right before Mrs. Grimp closed the door.

  “I was about to leave without you, Farts!” she said matter-of-factly. Now, I didn’t feel it was entirely appropriate for the bus driver to be calling me Farts, but then again, everyone seemed to be calling me Farts these days.

  “You should leave mo
re time on snowy days. I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius or something. Until you invent a way to get yourself to school on time, I expect you to be at this stop and ready when I pull up. Now go sit down.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Grimp,” I said sarcastically. I walked back and took a seat next to Scott. On the days his mom works, he gets on the bus before me, at his aunt’s house. The bus pulled away before I had actually sat down, and I half fell into the seat.

  “Put this on,” Scott commanded me before I could say a word.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s this new kid in third grade—he moved here about a week ago. He’s going to run in a marathon to raise money for some charity thing his parents are involved in. The marathon is this weekend, so we are all wearing these shirts to support him. The company bought shirts for the whole school. You’re a pretty generous guy. We billed it to the company,” he said with a grin.

  “I can’t spend the company money yet. You know that. Next time, how about asking first?” I said. “How come I never heard of this kid? A third grader running a marathon? Isn’t that like twenty-six miles or something?”

  “Twenty-six point two miles, to be exact. Now put the shirt on.”

  I held up the shirt. It read, “Go Gooz.”

  “The kid’s name is Gooz? What kind of name is Gooz, anyway?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. The kid’s from Pakistan. His last name is Gooz. I didn’t name him,” Scott said, looking out the window at the falling snow.

  “How come the school didn’t pay for them, or the kid’s family?”

  “Because I told the principal we would take care of it. Don’t worry about it. It’s a good thing for the company. We can write it off on your taxes this year as a charitable contribution.”

  “What do you know about taxes?” I asked.

  “I just know some stuff. Your company, whatever it’s called, is going to need write-offs. I think what you’re trying to say is thank you.”

  “I am definitely not trying to say thank you. Scott, if you are messing with me I am going to be super mad.” I wanted to believe Scott, but there was a part of me that sensed something was up, even though the shirt didn’t say anything about me. It was all about this Gooz kid, and it did seem like a good cause, even though I wished we hadn’t paid for the shirts.

  I took my jacket off and put the shirt on over my thermal.

  “That a boy,” Scott said. “Good for you. It will do you good to do something nice for someone else for a change. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve become pretty focused on yourself lately. All you do is stress about this science fair, and you never talk about anything else or have any fun. What kid doesn’t go trick-or-treating for Halloween?”

  “Maybe you’re right. I have been stressed out lately,” I admitted.

  “Also, do you know you haven’t once come in to see what Anthony and I are working on?” he continued.

  “What are you working on, anyway? I know Anthony was working on his lottery thing.”

  “I’m not saying what I’m working on yet, but I think you’ll be impressed with my project.”

  The bus came to a stop and we both got off. As I entered the classroom, I noticed that other kids were wearing the Go Gooz shirt as well. I hung my jacket on the hook in my cubby and sat down at my desk. The announcements hadn’t been made yet, so kids were still busy sharpening pencils and talking. Anthony sat down at his desk in front of me.

  “Hey, Keith,” he said, “sorry we didn’t tell you about the Goozer until this morning. It’s just that you’ve been so focused on the fair, we didn’t want to bother you.” I almost fell out of my chair. Had Anthony just called me Keith and said “sorry” in the same sentence?

  “Thanks, Anthony. I haven’t heard of this Gooz kid, but I think it’s pretty cool that you guys did this. You even got Mr. Cherub a Go Gooz tie, I see.”

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Isn’t it awesome? Gooz is going to love this.”

  The bell rang and the daily announcements started.

  I began my morning work, feeling relaxed for the first time in a while. I was still thinking about Emma, though. I felt bad that I hadn’t been around for her that much lately. I decided to skip the lab this afternoon and go straight home.

  Just then I got a whiff.

  “Come on, Anthony,” I pleaded, holding my nose and looking around the room for support.

  “Keith, please wait until the announcements are completed to talk,” Mr. Cherub scolded. The class was giving me The Look.

  “It wasn’t me,” I announced, a little too defensively. “I invented Sweet Farts, remember? It was Anthony.”

  “Keith, remember the other day when you told me you were going rogue and that you were off the Sweet Farts?” Anthony blurted out.

  “No,” I insisted. “That was you.”

  “Keith, we all know you invented Sweet Farts because your farts are so awful. Just own it already. You have horrible gas. It’s okay to admit that now.” He turned around in his chair to look at me. He was smiling from ear to ear.

  It was like old times. I froze up. I felt the nervous energy running wild in my body, and I couldn’t get any words out. Mr. Cherub finally said, “Boys, you have been getting along pretty well this year. Let’s not ruin things now, on Gooz’s big day.” The class started to giggle. The way people were looking at me, I couldn’t tell if they thought I had just farted or if something else was going on. Too many people were looking at me. Something was going on.

  That was all that Anthony and I said to each other. I was pretty much over the whole thing anyway. If the class still thought I was the one who was farting all this time, so be it.

  “Line up for gym, please,” Mr. Cherub said. We had gym first period. If I was lucky, it would be dodgeball day and I could unload on Anthony.

  I made sure I was at the end of the line to avoid being near Anthony. Mr. Elliott, the gym teacher, greeted us at the entrance to the gym. Mr. Elliott’s thing is that he says hi to every kid as he or she walks through the door.

  “Hi, Mary,” he said. “Hi, Jennifer. Good morning, Paul,” and then it happened. I was right behind Paul, and as I walked up to Mr. Elliott, who was wearing a Go Gooz tank top, he said quite clearly, “I’m rooting for you, Gooz,” and gave me a hard, gym-teacher slap on the back. Then he ran off and blew his whistle to get everyone’s attention.

  “Today, we are going to be taking a nutrition test, so…” He held up a box of pencils and a handful of fill-in-the-blank sheets. “…you will have to be quiet in the gym while you take the test. My apologies.”

  I felt a hot boil begin to bubble up inside me. Kids were looking at me and giggling to themselves.

  Everyone sat on the floor, and Mr. Elliott began to pass out the pencils and tests. I tried to make eye contact with Anthony or Scott, but neither one of them would look in my direction. Mr. Elliott finally reached me.

  “Mr. Elliott,” I whispered as I took the test from him.

  “Yes, Keith?” he whispered back.

  “Why did you call me Gooz as I walked into the gym just now?”

  He smiled and said, “When Anthony and Scott gave me my tank top yesterday, they said it means ‘farts’ in Farsi. Farts is your new nickname, isn’t it?”

  “Farsi?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a language.” He pointed to my shirt and smiled. “I can’t wait to see what your next invention is,” he said seriously. Then he turned back to the class and chanted, “Go, Gooz!”

  The class immediately chanted back, “Go, Gooz! Go, Gooz!” through the snickering that was breaking out all over the room.

  Something blew inside me, like one of those buildings you see on TV being demolished. One minute it is there, and the next it is exploding into dust.

  I stood up and ran directly at Anthony. At the last second, he ducked to his left and I went flying into the rack of basketballs.

  CHAPTER 19

  The
Talk

  After a quick visit to the nurse’s office to get ice for the lump on my head, I made my way down to the principal’s office. Mr. Michaels waved me into his office from the doorway when he saw me coming.

  “Have a seat, Keith,” he said. “What exactly is going on with you, young man? Mr. Elliott said you attacked your friend Anthony in gym class.”

  “I am really stressed about the fair, and then these guys go and pull this Go Gooz thing on me. I mean, you’re even wearing a Go Gooz tie, Mr. Michaels. How am I supposed to handle this?”

  “Keith, your friends are just having a little fun at your expense, but their hearts are in the right place. Plus, this has been great for school morale. The T-shirts your company has donated have gone a long way toward getting everyone excited about the science fair. I’m thinking of giving Anthony and Scott school-spirit awards for supporting you the way they are.”

  “Supporting me? Those two have been torturing me for weeks, and you are going to reward them? That’s perfect. You know what? Go ahead, you might as well. That makes complete sense.” Maybe we should build a statue of the two of them, pointing at me and laughing, I thought.

  “Keith, try to relax. You are only a few weeks away from sharing your next great invention with the world. Try to enjoy it. Whether you see it or not, your friends are there for you. Sometimes we don’t realize how important friends are to us, even if they do make us a little crazy.”

  “No,” I said, standing up, “I know exactly how I feel about my friends. I would be better off without them.”

  “I disagree. I think your friends are pushing you to be your best, and you don’t like the feeling.”

  “I don’t know that I would call what they are doing ‘encouraging.’”

  “All I’m saying is you have to let people be themselves. If you do, maybe they won’t mess with you. Now, since you were the only one hurt by your outburst in gym class, I will let you off with a warning, but you had better keep your frustrations in check, Goozer,” he said, playing with his tie.