Roxy sniffs at the air once more, then fumbles round in her bag. The stench plainly getting too much, she sprays perfume, to everyone's relief.
Hazel is getting increasingly excited, guilty, aroused at this situation building. She lays low, feeling her clay-like poop still stir in her pants.
Their teacher marches up to the front of the classroom (not before wafting away a strange smell) and fiddles with his laptop.