Max’s eyes flickered between Mr. Pitt and the bag in his hand. Sweat poured down his brow. The sound of the machine was overwhelming—Max had to keep his eyes locked on Mr. Pitt’s lips to work out what he was saying.
“You know, boys,” said Mr. Pitt with a sigh of pleasure, “it’s moments like this that really make me appreciate being a headmaster.”
Max and Sasha shared a glance. So long as they kept Mr. Pitt talking, they had a chance of saving the bag.
“I never wanted to run a school—I don’t even like children! But the power…you should try it one day!”
The bag swung over the jaws of the machine.
“Once the governors have seen the Pitt Building, they’ll put me on the board of governors too. I’ll keep working all the way up to the top! Bigger schools, bigger boards—then, one day, I’ll be the national minister of education. Millions of children under my control!”
He cackled and gave the bag another shake.
“But none of that matters to you, does it? All you care about is what’s in this bag! A bag that means nothing to me!” He waved it at them mockingly. “Do you have any idea how much power that gives me, boys?”
Max froze. He had seen something behind Mr. Pitt—a tiny movement. The slightest change in the air.
A fly. A whole swarm of them. Dozens.
“As far as you two are concerned, I am your GOD!”
More and more flies were appearing. They’d made a hole in the side of the trash bag and were zooming out by the hundreds, their buzzing hidden by the sound of the whirring machine. Max couldn’t believe his eyes—and with one glance, he could tell that Sasha couldn’t, either. The only person who didn’t realize was Mr. Pitt.
“Do you understand, boys?”
The flies were forming shapes in the air: one swarm became an arrow, pointed at Mr. Pitt’s ears; the other was gathering to form a letter.
X
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Max stared at the flies in amazement. They were trying to communicate with him…and it was working. He understood completely.
He reached up to his hearing aid, pressed the pinprick button…
And a voice crackled out of his earpiece, clear and bright as day.
“Max, it’s Luke. Don’t worry…we’ve got him now.”
Luke sat on the highest warfly behind Mr. Pitt, the radio transmitter strapped to the bristle beside him. He was holding the microphone so tightly that the bones in his hands were almost visible.
“Luke, stop being such a wuss!” shouted Ivy.
Luke shot her a furious glance. She was still piloting the warfly, which was the main reason Luke was so terrified in the first place.
“Have you seen how high up we are? I can’t even see the floor!”
Ivy smiled dreamily. “I know—wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Quiet, you two!”
Mr. Darrow sat on a raised chair behind them, his eyes fixed on Max.
“I need to concentrate. I’m going to have to switch to Max’s speed so we can help him!”
Luke frowned. “You can do that?”
“Course!” said Mr. Darrow. “Wasn’t born a Floor person, was I? I can see things at both speeds if I want to. Makes me slow down a bit, that’s all. Here we go!”
Mr. Darrow’s eyes widened, his mouth hung open…and just like that, he fell into a trance. It was like he was fast asleep, but his eyes were wide open. Luke gulped—he was in charge now.
“Right, Max, listen up—here’s the plan….”
“MAX!”
Mr. Pitt was waving his arms, trying to get Max’s attention. Max swallowed—he had to keep the headmaster distracted so he wouldn’t see the flies.
“Er…yes, sir! Absolutely! You’ve won and we’ve lost and, er…so on.”
Mr. Pitt smiled. “That’s right! Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to pull one over on me!”
Max kept one eye on Mr. Pitt while listening to Luke through the earpiece.
“Max, the Greens are on our side now. The rest of the Floor are inside the bag, waiting to escape.”
The flies were forming a huge battalion in the air behind Mr. Pitt.
“We’re going to distract Mr. Pitt,” Luke explained. “We need you and Sasha to grab the trash bag before it drops into the machine. Can you do that?”
Max looked at Sasha. And with one look, he could tell that Sasha understood. His face was glowing with excitement. The flies billowed up behind Mr. Pitt like a black wave, hanging over his head.
“Understand, boys?” said Mr. Pitt.
Max grinned. “Perfectly, sir.”
“Clear as crystal,” said Sasha.
“Oh crud,” groaned Luke. “Here goes.”
“Go, go, go!”
The flies swooped. Ivy led the squadron into a dive, bombing past Mr. Pitt’s face at superfast speed.
“Fire!”
The warflies attacked, flinging round after round of catapult fire at Mr. Pitt’s eyes. His face slowly twisted into a bellow of pain, and his free hand swung up…
“He’s swatting!” cried Ivy. “Scramble!”
The warflies zipped away just as Mr. Pitt brought up his hand and punched himself square in the face. The warflies swarmed back round for another attack.
“Stage two!” Ivy shouted. “Bin King, are you ready?”
She turned to the warfly beside her. It was piloted by the Bin King. He seemed different somehow—his crown was gone. For the first time in his life, he looked happy.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” said Luke.
The Bin King nodded. “This is the only way I can make up for everything I’ve done.”
He nodded to Ivy, and Ivy nodded back. Luke saluted him.
“The Floor will never forget your sacrifice, Bin King. Everyone will remember your name!”
The Bin King smiled. “Thanks! But please, don’t remember me as the Bin King. Remember my real name.”
He tilted his warfly sharply in the air and shot forward, straight into Mr. Pitt’s open mouth. He disappeared into the dark forever, punching the air with both hands.
“It’s Terry!”
“AAAARRFGHGHGG!”
Mr. Pitt gagged and spluttered on the fly, reeling around like a broken toy. The trash bag fell from his grasp—
“Now, Max, now!” Luke shouted through the earpiece.
Max flew forward and grabbed the trash bag just before it hit the racks of grinding teeth—an inch more and it would have been destroyed. He nearly lost his balance and toppled into the machine himself, but Sasha dragged him back.
“NOOOO!”
Mr. Pitt’s face was covered in welts and blisters from the warfly attacks. His eyes boiled with murderous rage. He tried to leap forward….
But something was pulling him back. The tails of his suit were caught in the garbage disposal machine. He was being dragged backward, into the racks of grinding teeth. He reached for the lever, but it was too far.
“Boys! Quick!” he screamed. “Turn it off!”
Sasha smiled. “You’ll be fine, Mr. Pitt…so long as you don’t mind losing your suit. The question is: Is it worth it?”
Max and Sasha ran to the door with the trash bag, followed by Luke’s warfly. Mr. Pitt bellowed with fury and heaved against the machine…until, with an almighty RRRRRRRRIP, the machine tore off his jacket, shirt and trousers and chewed them into highly nutritious mulch. The headmaster was left standing in his socks and underpants while the warflies swarmed round him, stinging every inch of his body.
Max tore the bar from the door handles, and the builders fell into the room, collapsing into a pile on the floor. Max and Sasha clambered over them before the men could get to their feet.
“There he is!” said the foreman, pointing at Pitt. “And he’s naked! Get him!”
But Mr. Pitt wasn’t going to stop now. He couldn’t even feel pain anymore. He threw himself at the builders with a battle cry and sent them flying like bowling pins, charging after Max and Sasha as they ran up the stairs….
Luke gasped. “Max! He’s right behind you!”
Pitt was getting closer, and the warflies no longer seemed to be making any difference. Luke turned to Mr. Darrow for help, but he was still in his trance, his mouth gaping and his eyes gazing blankly ahead.
“Ivy, they’re not going to make it!” cried Luke. “We have to get everyone out of the trash bag, now!”
He pointed to the bag in Max’s arms. He could see the slit that the Greens had made to escape, and the Red Queen waiting beside it. The rest of the Floor were organized into a colossal human chain behind her so that no one would be left behind.
“It’s too dangerous!” said Ivy. “We’ll never be able to carry people out with the bag moving around like that—we’ll drop them!”
“Then…what do we do?” cried Luke.
Ivy looked ahead, and smiled. Max and Sasha had reached the top of the staircase and were running into the foyer.
“I think these two might already have it covered,” she said.
Max and Sasha burst into the foyer.
“Girls, quick!” cried Max. “Time for plan B!”
Above them, the girls stood on the X-shaped walkway, armed with bottles of glue and buckets of glitter. Max and Sasha jumped out of the way just as Mr. Pitt burst through the doors.
“Now!” cried Joy.
The girls let rip. Within seconds, Mr. Pitt was doused from head to toe with glue and smashed with twenty bucketfuls of bright red, blue and green glitter. Choked and blinded, he swung his arms through the glittery cloud and roared like a stunned bear. Sasha grabbed Max by the arm.
“Quick! This way!”
They flew up another set of stairs to the next floor, but Mr. Pitt had heard Sasha shout. He clawed the glitter from his eyes and threw himself after them, his arms stretched toward the bag….
“It didn’t work!” cried Luke. “He’s going to catch them! Mr. Darrow, wake up!”
Luke shook Mr. Darrow as hard as he could, but it was no use. The clouds of glitter filled the air around them like fireworks, exploding in colossal plumes of red, green and blue. Mr. Darrow even had a faint smile on his lips….
Then he snapped out of the trance.
“Tell Max to get on that walkway, now!” he said. “Ivy, how do you feel about causing as much damage as possible?”
“Great,” she said.
“Thought so.” Mr. Darrow pointed above them. “Just do everything I say….”
Max was almost at the top of the stairs. Sasha flung open a door and held it open for the girls as they fled.
“Max, quick!” he cried, waving an arm. “Through here!”
“No, Max, get on the walkway!” came Luke’s voice.
Max skidded on his heels and tore down the X-shaped walkway instead. There was a door on the other side—he had no idea what was behind it, but he had to trust Luke. He grabbed the door handle, wrenched at it—but the door was locked.
“WRONG CHOICE, MAX!”
Max spun round…straight into Mr. Pitt.
“DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT ME?”
The headmaster shoved Max backward and whipped the bag out of his hands. In one go, he threw the bag to the floor, lifted up one foot…
“No!” cried Max.
“NO!” cried Luke.
…and stamped on it.
The crunch of the bag was sickening. Pitt stamped on it again, and again, and again, and again. He jumped on the bag in a frenzy of rage until it was completely flattened.
“I WILL NOT BE BEATEN BY A DEAF BOY AND A UNICORN!”
“It’s a Sparkle Pony.”
Mr. Pitt swung round. Sasha stood on the other end of the walkway in his purple onesie, a mysterious smile on his face.
“I’m not a unicorn. I’m a Sparkle Pony. They’re a completely different species. Many thousands of years ago, there was a beautiful horse goddess called Glimmer, who—”
“What on earth are you on about?” snapped Mr. Pitt.
Sasha smiled. “Of course you don’t care about the details. And that’s why you’ll never win, Mr. Pitt: because you’ll never understand that details matter.”
“For example,” said Max, getting back to his feet, “that’s not actually our trash bag.”
Mr. Pitt looked down at the bag—Max was right. This bag was filled with old milk from last term. Mr. Pitt’s legs were now covered in cheesy green yogurt.
“Our trash bag is over there,” said Max.
He pointed to Joy, who was holding up the correct bag and waving.
“We switched them when we came in the foyer. We thought someone like you wouldn’t notice the difference.”
Mr. Pitt growled. “Why, you little…”
He made to grab Max—but stopped. There was a fly buzzing in front of his face. Mr. Pitt jerked his head back, expecting another sting, but none came. He focused on the fly…and his eyes boggled.
There were tiny people riding on the fly’s back. They were all waving at him.
One of them was Mr. Darrow.
Max put one hand to his hearing aid. “Mr. Pitt, they’re asking if you could hold your hand out, please?”
Mr. Pitt held out his hand, dumbstruck. The fly deposited something into the center of his palm, then quickly buzzed away. Mr. Pitt held it up.
It was a single screw.
The walkway supports around him began to creak. It might have only been one screw, but without it the poorly built walkway wasn’t strong enough to hold itself up. One by one, the supports started to pull away from the walls. Mr. Pitt didn’t notice—he was too busy staring dumbfounded at the fly that was buzzing away.
“RUN, MAX!” cried Sasha.
Max, Sasha and the girls ran outside just as the walkway snapped free from its supports and cracks appeared in the glass ceiling. It was the butterfly effect—one tiny change was enough to destroy everything Mr. Pitt had built, and bring him down with it.
In many ways, the odds of the plan coming together so perfectly were astronomical—impossible, even. It was nothing short of a miracle.
But then, we all know about miracles by now.