“There!”

Max surveyed the potting shed. It was finally finished—all the surfaces had been cleared and then filled with rows of carefully connected seedling trays. It wasn’t exactly paradise, but it would do for now.

“You know what, Max?” said Sasha. “This is actually pretty nice!”

Max nodded. “And finished just in time. Come on!”

They each grabbed a tray and set off through the bushes.

“Mr. Pitt will be heading back to school,” said Max breathlessly. “All we have to do is grab the floor people and—”

Max stopped. He hadn’t noticed the school earlier when he was running from Mr. Darrow’s room. But now he could see that the trees were covered in toilet paper. There was paint everywhere. The playing fields looked much more glittery than Max remembered.

“Max, what’s going on?” Sasha was panicking.

“I—I don’t know!” Max said. “Unless—”

“Joy!”

She was leaning weakly against a tree in front of the boardinghouse, her mouth still stained green and oozing jelly beans. Sasha grabbed her.

“Joy, are you OK? What happened?”

She groaned. “We got into your dorm…the candy…Then I don’t remember anything….”

Max looked over the devastation. Suddenly it all became clear.

“Quick! We have to get upstairs, before Mr. Pitt gets back and—”

“Too late,” Joy murmured. “He went looking for you on the staff corridor. He just came back downstairs with a full trash bag and—”

Max’s whole body flooded with horror.

“NO!”

He dropped the tray and ran into the boardinghouse as fast as he could, flying up the stairs and into the staff corridor….

He was too late. Mr. Darrow’s door was wide open.

The bedroom was empty.

There wasn’t a speck of sand on the floor. Every single model had been swept from the shelves. The bin, the pile of clothes, the castle, the microscope goggles…It was all gone. The only thing left was a vacuum cleaner, its long black nozzle pointing at the doorway like a sword.

Max felt a tap on his shoulder. It was the foreman.

“Oh, it’s you!” said the foreman. “Er…you haven’t seen Damon, have you?”

Max’s blood froze.

“Damon?”

“I suppose you boys call him Mr. Pitt.”

“Right here, Foreman.”

Mr. Pitt emerged from the staircase, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Damon!” said the foreman. “Where have you been? The school’s a complete disaster—there’s no way it’ll be ready in time for the governors! You have to call them and explain what happened, or—”

Mr. Pitt shook his head. “No, Foreman. The governors are expecting a finished school, and they’re going to get one. Get your team and start cleaning.”

The foreman gawped. “But we’ll never—”

“Just do it,” said Mr. Pitt, waving him quiet. “I’m afraid Max and I have some talking to do.” He smiled. “Don’t we, Max?”

Max wasn’t looking at the headmaster anymore. He was gazing at the empty bedroom, his eyes filling with tears. On the bed lay the whiteboard, still scrawled with the final message.

MA THE GREAT ONE

“Oh, Luke,” he whispered. “What have I done?”