Super Schnoz and the Gates of Smell

by Gary Urey

  “No way,” said Vivian. “It’s the dog poop. That’s the most disgusting thing ever.”

  “Both of you are wrong,” I said. “The winner is…the maggoty hunk of bologna!”

  Half the crowd cheered, the other half groaned. Jimmy held out his wallet, collecting his winnings.

  As we tramped back into the building after recess, another strange scent wafted in the air, one

  I had never smelled before. My nostrils spread wide. The hairs inside my nose bristled with excitement. I inhaled deeply. It was a delicious mixture of dead rodent, raw sewage, and stale fart.

  But the other kids in school reacted very differently to the odor.

  Some nearly passed out. Others lost their lunch in the hallway.

  Principal Cyrano’s panicked voice blasted through the intercom. “Evacuate the school! This is not a drill! Everyone must leave the building immediately!”

  11

  EVACUATION

  Three hundred kids and twenty-seven teachers poured out of the school. Two police cars, an ambulance, a news crew, and a big yellow hazmat truck whipped into the parking lot. Men wearing gas masks charged into the building.

  A reporter spoke into a camera. “Something is rotten in the town of Denmark,” she said in a perfect TV voice. “A foul, offensive odor is permeating James F. Durante Elementary School. It’s described as a fishy, raw sewage smell that made several children and teachers ill earlier today. Here is eleven-year-old Vivian Ramirez with a comment.”

  “I couldn’t breathe,” Vivian said into the microphone. “The smell is just so disgusting. It’s really scaring me.”

  “The source of the smell has yet to be determined,” the reporter continued. “A private company, ECU—Environmental Clean Up, Inc., is in the school right now, conducting air quality tests.”

  The reporter moved on to an ECU representative. “What exactly does your company do?” she asked.

  “Our mission is to solve environmental problems with scientifically sound results and to maintain compliance that ensures the safety and health of all individuals,” the representative said.

  While the reporter jabbered on, interviewing other kids and teachers, I tiptoed away from the crowd and slipped back into the school.

  The smell was powerful. I crept up the second-grade hall, past the custodian’s closet, and into the teachers’ lounge. The funky fragrance seeped into everything, so much that it was hard for me to determine its source. It could have been anything—a ruptured sewer line, a clogged-up poopy toilet, or the greasy taco meat the cafeteria ladies served up for lunch.

  I heard a deep voice bellow from down the hall. “Follow me into the teachers’ lounge. We need to talk.”

  It was Principal Cyrano. If he caught me inside the school when we were supposed to evacuate, I would be in serious trouble. I dashed behind the copy machine.

  I was perfectly concealed, except for my nose. It was sticking out from the side of the copy machine like the rudder of a boat.

  The door flew open. I prayed the principal wouldn’t notice my snout.

  “What’s the verdict?” Principal Cyrano asked through a gas mask.

  “We’ve unearthed very high levels of methane, butane, and propane. That could be to blame,” said a woman’s muffled voice. “But we also have to consider other sources, like dead rodents, soil contamination, and gas line issues.”

  “How long will it take to determine the cause?”

  “It could be days, weeks, maybe even months. Until then, no students will be allowed into the building.”

  “But where are we going to house them? If we don’t open this school soon, our kids will be in class all summer. Kiss vacation good-bye for everyone.”

  “That, sir, is your problem.”

  I heard the door close and footsteps disappear down the hallway. Principal Cyrano and the woman were gone. Just as I was about to crawl from behind the copy machine, the door opened again. My heart pounded in my chest. I was sure the whole world could hear it.

  “The principal is clueless,” a hushed voice said. I knew right away it was the same woman who had been talking to Principal Cyrano only moments before.

  “Good,” a man’s gravelly voice croaked. “That imbecile doesn’t realize he has a gold mine sitting right under his feet and I want to keep it that way. How long will this phase of the operation take?”

  “I’d say two or three months before the government officially condemns the property.”

  “Perfect. Get this school shut down and ECU will purchase it for a song.”

  The door closed. I was alone, trying to digest what I had just heard. No summer vacation!

  I inhaled the luscious stench, filing the stink inside my mental smell library, and rushed back outside.

  12

  SUMMER SCHOOL

  The next day we were back in school, but not at James F. Durante Elementary.

  We were in the high school auditorium for a big assembly.

  It was the only place in town that could fit three hundred kids.

  “This is a challenging situation for everyone,” Principal Cyrano announced. “I just received confirmation from our superintendent that we will temporarily move to the old school across town while the environmental company cleans up Durante Elementary. However, since the old school has sat vacant for three years, it will take the maintenance department at least two weeks to get the building ready for students. After today there will be no classes until the old school is ready to go.”

  A cheer went up from the kids.

  Principal Cyrano clapped his hands, quieting everyone down. “However,” he continued, “the Department of Education says that students must complete one hundred and seventy-four days of quality instruction. That means every missed day of school must be made up during the summer months.”

  Every kid in the auditorium groaned. This information wasn’t new to me, so I just rolled my eyes and flared my nostrils.

  “No way!” Jimmy said. “My butt will not be in school one day past June seventh. Period!”

  “I’m going to Camp Noogiewagga for two weeks at the end of June,” TJ said. “It’s the first year I can do sleepover.”

  “My family’s going to Cape Cod,” Mumps said. “If we’re still in school, I’ll miss it.”

  As for me, my summer plans included a self-guided odor tour of the tri-county region. Just me, my nose, my bike, and a snoot full of smelly things.

  “Nothing we can do about now,” I said. “Let’s just hope they find the source of the smell and clean it up.”

  Mumps opened his backpack and pulled out his most prized possession—issue 232 of Fantastic Four from 1981 in mint condition. He had bought it a year ago at a comic book convention for thirteen dollars and fifty cents—his whole life savings—and carried it with him everywhere. The front cover was Mister Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, Thing, and the Human Torch shooting into the sky on fire with some devil-looking creature in the background. It was in way better shape than the comics Mr. Colby showed us in Comic Book Club.

  It didn’t mean much to me, but to Mumps, TJ, and Jimmy, the comic was like an ancient holy relic.

  “This issue’s a collector’s item,” Mumps said, slowly peeling the pages out of its protective plastic cover.

  “That’s what I want to be when I grow up,” TJ said. “Part of a superhero team.”

  “Me too,” Jimmy said. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could do that right now?”

  “Totally awesome,” Mumps said dreamily.

  The guys stared at the comic, carefully turning the pages. The artwork was pretty good. I liked Mister Fantastic’s ability to stretch his body into different shapes.

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if my nose stretched into weird shapes, like Mister Fantastic?” I asked.

  Jimmy looked at me. His eyes lit up. “You can be a superhero.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That nose of yours. It has superpowers.”

 
“Jimmy’s right,” TJ said. “Anybody who can sniff out dog poop from over a hundred yards away has a true gift. With your schnoz, we can discover the source of the smell. The kids at school will love us.”

  “You’re Super Schnoz,” Mumps said. “Just like in our comic book—only you’re real!”

  TJ howled, pumping his fists in the air, chanting, “Super Schnoz! Super Schnoz! Super Schnoz!”

  I hadn’t told anyone about sneaking into the school during the evacuation partly because I was in denial about what I’d overheard in the teachers’ lounge and partly because I didn’t want to get in trouble for breaking the rules. I guess now was time to spill the beans.

  “Remember when that reporter was interviewing everyone the day were evacuated?” I said.

  “Sure,” Jimmy said. “I made it on TV!”

  “Well, while you were getting your fifteen minutes of fame, I snuck back inside the school to investigate.”

  Mumps slapped me on the back. “Everyone knows you have a nose for trouble.”

  “I know smells. And the smell inside that school was nothing I had ever sniffed before. I tried huffing out where it was coming from, but it was too overpowering, even for me.”

  “I don’t believe it, Schnoz,” Jimmy said. “Nothing’s too strong for your nose. Let’s start hatching our plan at my house this afternoon. What do you say?”

  I shrugged. It sounded okay to me, but I had no idea what they were planning.

  “Schnoz, you’ll need a costume,” Mumps said. “All the greats have a mask, cape, tights, pointy boots, just like in our comic book.”

  “And a big Schnoz emblem plastered across the chest!” Jimmy added.

  “Let’s ask Vivian to design it,” I said. “She’s the best artist I know.”

  The guys all nodded in agreement. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw Vivian. She was sitting in the row behind ours.

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “And I won’t even charge you.”

  “Great,” said Jimmy. “My older sister wants to be a fashion designer. She showed me how to use her sewing machine. I can totally make your costume.”

  Super Schnoz—it was a great name for a comic book. Could it be a great name for a real superhero too? Could I save summer vacation for all my friends? How would I look in a cape and tights?

  I was about to find out.

  13

  IT’S A BIRD…IT’S A PLANE…IT’S SUPER SCHNOZ!

  Vivian’s design was perfect. It was a jet black, one-piece suit with a flowing blue cape and a big pair of black pointy boots. Her drawing looked just like me. She had a big nose in three-quarter profile splashed across the chest and the letters SS written on the back of the cape.

  “Are you sure you can make this, Jimmy?” Vivian asked.

  “No problem,” Jimmy said and went right to work.

  Jimmy wasn’t lying. He was a whiz with his sister’s sewing machine. In less than an hour, he had stitched together a cape and long sleeve shirt. The only things he couldn’t make were the tights. I acquired those compliments of his sister too. Jimmy swiped a pair of black dance pants from her dresser drawer.

  Since Vivian was the artist, painting the Super Schnoz emblem on the shirt was her responsibility.

  “The nostrils aren’t big enough,” TJ said. “You gotta make them huge.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Vivian fired back. “Schnoz keeps squirming around. Models are supposed to sit still.”

  I stopped fidgeting, turned profile, and took a deep breath. “Hurry up. Not moving is next to impossible.”

  Ten minutes later it was over. She had drawn a perfect image of my nose in profile on the shirt.

  “Schnoz, try on everything,” Vivian ordered.

  I went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  The costume fit like a freshly laundered sock, from the black shirt and tights right down to the blue cape and Super Schnoz logo. But I refused to wear pointy black boots. My old sneakers would be just fine.

  “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Super Schnoz!” I cried and leaped from the bathroom, chest puffed out, nose held high.

  The guys and Vivian rolled on the floor, laughing so hard tears streamed down their cheeks.

  “Perfect!” TJ squealed.

  “Better than perfect,” Mumps said, “It’s Schnozalicious!”

  “Let’s go in my backyard,” Jimmy said. “I want to take some pictures.”

  It was a sunny, breezy, chilly April afternoon.

  Wind whipped through the trees, showering us with fallen leaves. I didn’t have a jacket, but the black tights and cape kept me warm.

  “Stand next to the fence,” Jimmy said. “And pose like a superhero.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “You know, stick out your arms like you’re ready to fly or something.”

  Mumps straightened out my cape. “It would be so awesome if you could really fly.”

  “Awesome for you, maybe,” I replied. “I’m afraid of heights. Just climbing the slide freaks me out.”

  I leaned over slightly and stretched my arms, nose pointing skyward. “How’s this for a pose?”

  Jimmy flashed me a thumbs-up and snapped some pictures.

  That’s when a huge gust of wind blasted through his backyard. The cold air shot up my nostrils and inflated them like two giant parachutes. My heart dropped into my stomach, my toes lifted off the ground, and my cape fluttered in the breeze.

  I was flying!

  14

  THE NOT-RIGHT BROTHERS…AND VIVIAN

  Well, I wasn’t really flying. I was floating, like a kite or hot air balloon. As the wind lifted me higher, I saw the inside of Jimmy’s second floor bedroom window, then the cracked tiles of his roof, the telephone wires, treetops. The town of Denmark stretched out below me like a miniature world.

  “Help!” I screamed. “Get me down from here!”

  A gigantic crow answered with a loud squawk.

  It flapped beside me then landed on the bridge of my nose. Something warm and wet dribbled down my cheek.

  Bird poop.

  The crow preened its feathers. One fell out and tickled my nose, and I sneezed. The expulsion of air was so powerful it propelled me halfway across town.

  And that’s how I learned to control my flight pattern.

  To fly faster, I inhaled and exhaled deeply from my nose. The harder I huffed the faster I flew. Landing was just as easy. When I wanted to descend, I closed one nostril with a finger, breathed very lightly, and drifted to the ground as daintily as a dandelion seed.

  “Schnoz…really…flying,” Mumps stammered when I landed back in the yard.

  “You really are a superhero,” TJ said, a hint of awe in his voice.

  “I am completely freaking out right now,” Vivian said.

  Jimmy tapped the big Super Schnoz logo on my chest. “You, my friend, are the greatest thing since the Wright Brothers.”

  “More like the Not-Right Brothers,” I said.

  All four of them laughed at my joke.

  “Have you always been able to fly?” Mumps asked.

  “Of course not,” I said. “The wind just inflated my nostrils and lifted me off the ground.”

  “Is this the first time your nose ever filled up with air and sent you into the sky?” Vivian asked.

  I nodded. What did she think? My snout was an alien ship from another planet or something?

  “Schnoz flew because of a very a basic scientific principal,” TJ said. “Warm air rises in cooler air.”

  “What makes you such an expert?” Jimmy asked.

  TJ grabbed a stick and drew a picture of a big balloon in the dirt. “My Uncle Grady is a hot air balloon fanatic. He told me all about how they work. Hot air is lighter than cooler air. Schnoz’s two massive nose holes are like mini hot air balloons. The cold air blew into his nostrils, warmed, and caused him to float. Simple.”

  “So you’re saying I’m some kind of human hot air
balloon,” I said.

  “Exactly.” TJ said. “With your power to fly, we can be a famous crime-fighting team like the Fantastic Four. Solve mysteries and beat up bad guys.”

  “Super Schnoz and the Not-Right Brothers!” Jimmy howled. “You’re the superhero and we’re the support team.”

  “Ahem,” Vivian grunted, clearing her throat.

  “I mean, Super Schnoz, the Not-Right Brothers, and Vivian.”

  “Awesome!” Mumps added. “We can work the computers and GPS satellites, and intercept and decode messages from our archenemy.”

  “But we don’t have an archenemy,” I said.

  Jimmy dropped his smile and stared at me.

  “Whoever or whatever is causing that smell in our school is enemy number one as far as I’m concerned. If we don’t discover the source, say good-bye to summer vacation.”

  Jimmy was right. I had been planning my July odor tour for months. Summer school meant no new smells for my scent dictionary.

  “We have to lay down some ground rules first,” I said.

  “Like what?” TJ asked.

  “Like my secret identity. No one knows Clark Kent is Superman, Peter Parker is Spider-Man, or that Principal Krupp is Captain Underpants. My true identity must remain top secret or this whole thing will blow up.”

  “He’s right,” Jimmy said. “We have to promise never to reveal Schnoz as Super Schnoz or that we’re the Not-Right Brothers.”

  “Then we’ll need to disguise Schnoz’s nose,” TJ said. “People in town will take one look at that snout and recognize him right away.”

  Vivian paced around the yard, thinking. “Got it!” she exclaimed and raced to her house. She returned five minutes later, holding a bundle of feathers.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s a Mardi Gras mask with a beak,” Vivian said. “My parents went on a trip to New Orleans last year. They brought home a bunch of masks as souvenirs.”

  The mask had red, green, and orange feathers with a large silver beak. Black feathers accented the eyeholes to make them stand out.