Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(27)

Helen wrinkles up her nose, the smell obviously having made the short journey over to her.

“Sorry. My stomach’s been acting a little funny since lunch.” It’s hard to keep a straight face — even harder than keeping reign over my bowels. That sucking-lemons expression she’s making is hysterious. “So, how do you want to organize this? Should we just go alphabetically, like in the book? Or by effectiveness?”

Helen clears her throat. “I was thinking . . .” She raises her hand to her nose, all nonchalant, pretending she’s not trying to block my zesty odor. “There’s a chart here that breaks them down by types, convenience, availability, protection against STDs . . .” She reaches for one of the books with her free hand, keeping the other close to her nostrils.

I contract my stomach muscles, giving a nice forceful push.

THRRRRAAAAP!

Yes! Now that’s what I’m talking about. That one actually caused my chair to rattle.

“Cooper, what the hell?” Helen shoots me a wave of hate.

The smell rapes my nose. Holy crap, that is nasty. Talk about the pungency of the flatus.

Miss Jerooni looks up from her book. “Is everything okay over there?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I think I just had some bad ham at lunch.”

Miss Jerooni’s whole face suddenly shudders, my foul fog having floated to the front of the room. “My goodness,” she says, then rushes over to crack open a window.

Helen stares at me, looking none too pleased.

“What?” I say. “You think this is fun for me? It hurts.”

I’m going to have to remember this trick next time Sean and Matt sleep over.

Helen shakes her head, then casually lifts her shirt over her nose and mouth to use as a respirator.

“Look,” I say. “If it’s bothering you so much, move to another table. You said you were going to do all the work on your own anyway.”

“That deal was off as soon as we got detention,” Helen replies. “If Mrs. Turris finds out I’m doing everything, I don’t even want to imagine the trouble we’ll get into.”

“Well, then, just tell me what you want me to do and then you can move.”

“No. It’s fine,” she says, her voice all nasal. “Let’s just keep working. We’ll start off with the barrier methods.”

I’m afraid the barrier method won’t work in this particular situation, Helen.

I execute another hard internal thrust, my eyes rolling back into my head as I give in to the nearly orgasmic release of the wonder wind.

RUM-BUM-BUM-BUM-BUM-BUM.

It’s like the sound of a sputtering boat engine.

“Jesus Christ,” Helen says.

“Oh, God. I’m really sorry. This is so embarrassing.” I swear, the air around us is turning a greenish yellow.

Miss Jerooni makes a little retching sound. “Young man. Please control yourself.” She bolts up and opens another window. “Perhaps you should visit the lavatory.”

“No.” I hold up my hand. “I’m feeling better. I think the worst part has passed.”

Miss Jerooni harrumphs. She’s about to sit at her desk again, but then thinks better of it and grabs her book, retreating to the safety of her glassed-in office and shutting the door behind her.

“You think I can sue the school for food poisoning?” I ask Helen before unleashing another violent buttquake. “I think it’s causing serious damage down there.”

Fanny and Alexander are fluttering around their cage like mad, slamming into each other, their feathers flying as they look for some escape from the onslaught. But there’s nowhere to go. And Miss Jerooni doesn’t look like she’s coming out of her office to save them anytime soon.

“Here,” Helen says, breathing through her shirt and shoving several books toward me. “Just find all the pros and cons of the various contraceptive methods and write them down. I’m going to do some research on the Internet.”

“Wait,” I say, trying not to bust up. “I had a question.”

Helen’s already standing. “What?”

BRRRRAAAAP! I launch another thundering boomer. Then sniff the air.

“Does that smell like ham to you? ’Cause I’m thinking now it might have been the Italian Dunkers.”

Helen groans and races off toward the open window and the computer in the corner.

There’s a real sense of satisfaction when you put a plan into action and it all charts out exactly how you thought it would. I lean back in my chair, breathing in the sweet smell of success — which, in this case, has a slight elephanty odor to it — when I hear some girls laughing in the hallway.

I’m enjoying my victory too much for it to really register at first.

Until I see three of the Phenomenal Four step into the library.

It takes half a second for the odorama to make an impression on Prudence, Bronte, and Gina.

And the remaining portion of that very same second for me to realize that I have beefed myself into a corner.





ALL THREE GIRLS STOP DEAD, like they’ve run into a concrete wall, their hands shooting up to cover their noses.

“Holy crap!” Prudence makes a face. “Who opened a grave in here?”

Think! Quick!