Mr. Pitt grabbed Max’s arm and marched him past the building site, trying to block his view.
“NOW, MAX, AS YOU CAN SEE, THE SCHOOL IS MAKING SOME FINAL TWEAKS AND ADJUSTMENTS. NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, OF COURSE, BUT I MUST INSIST YOU STAY INSIDE THE BOARDINGHOUSE AT ALL TIMES!”
Max grinned. “That’s fine by me, sir!”
A weekend in the boardinghouse was exactly what Max wanted. He’d spent the holidays itching to get back to St. Goliath’s to see if Mr. Darrow had returned. The janitor would have found Max’s castle by now and left him another message. Once Mr. Pitt was gone, Max could sneak upstairs to the staff bedrooms and—
“DON’T WORRY, YOU’LL HAVE PLENTY TO DO!” said Mr. Pitt. “I’M GOING TO PUT YOU TO WORK WITH THE SUMMER CLUB!”
Max’s face fell. “The summer club?”
They came to the boardinghouse, and Max’s heart sank. The front doors were covered in streamers and stickers of cartoon unicorns wearing fabulous outfits.
*!*!*Sparkle Pony Summer Club*!*!*
Max gulped. “Sir—isn’t that for five-year-old girls?”
“YES, MAX, FIFTY OF THEM! AND THEY NEED PLENTY OF LOOKING AFTER—UNFORTUNATELY OUR REGULAR STAFF WERE ALL HOSPITALIZED THIS MORNING WHEN ONE OF THEM TOUCHED A LIGHT SWITCH.”
Max and Mr. Pitt stepped inside the boardinghouse. Every available surface was coated in glitter glue and sequins. There were three stereos playing three different songs at full volume and fifty girls in fairy wings screaming their heads off.
This was Max’s worst nightmare. He could lip-read a conversation with one person if they were facing him and speaking clearly, but adding another person made it twice as hard—it meant Max had to spend the whole time looking back and forth to work out who was talking. Looking after these girls would be like playing fifty games of chess blindfolded while someone threw tennis balls at him.
“Sir…should I really be in charge of all these girls by myself?”
Mr. Pitt looked horrified.
“WHAT—ONE TEN-YEAR-OLD BOY IN CHARGE OF FIFTY YOUNG GIRLS?! OF COURSE NOT! THERE’LL BE TWO OF YOU….AH, THERE HE IS NOW!”
Mr. Pitt pointed to a boy covered from head to toe in screaming girls. It took Max a moment to recognize him.
“Sasha?”
Sasha saw Max and turned ghost-white. He looked…well, different. He wasn’t wearing expensive clothes. In fact, he was wearing a bright-purple unicorn onesie and had a butterfly drawn on his face. He shook off the girls like a dog drying itself.
“M-Max! What are you doing here?!”
Mr. Pitt clapped Sasha on the back, clearly having forgotten the two boys were roommates.
“MAX, THIS IS SASHA! HE’S BEEN HERE ALL SUMMER, HELPING US RUN THE CLUB. THANKFULLY HE WASN’T ELECTROCUTED WITH THE OTHER TWELVE VOLUNTEERS THIS MORNING. ISN’T THAT RIGHT, SASHA?”
Sasha didn’t answer—he was staring at Max like he was going to be sick. He clearly hadn’t expected anyone to find him still at school, let alone dressed as a purple unicorn. Mr. Pitt strode toward the door.
“I’LL LEAVE YOU BOYS TO IT! IF YOU NEED ME, I’LL BE UPSTAIRS—I’M GOING TO CHECK MR. DARROW’S ROOM AND MAKE SURE NO ONE’S BROKEN IN!”
Max’s heart clenched.
“B-broken in?”
“OH YES!” said Mr. Pitt. “THIS MORNING ONE OF THE BUILDERS NOTICED THE BEDROOM LIGHT HAD BEEN LEFT ON ALL HOLIDAY. A CHILD MUST HAVE SNUCK IN ON THE LAST DAY OF TERM! IF I FIND OUT WHO SET FOOT IN THAT CORRIDOR, I’LL EXPEL HIM SO FAST IT’LL MAKE HIS HEAD SPIN!”
Max’s head was spinning already. There could be a message waiting for him in Mr. Darrow’s bedroom. And even if there wasn’t, Max’s model castle was still on the bedroom floor…with his name carved into its base.
Several images quickly passed through Max’s mind: Mr. Pitt finding the castle; Mr. Pitt expelling Max in front of the whole school; Max spending the rest of his life scraping Great-Aunt Meredith’s tongue clean after every meal.
Mr. Pitt stopped at the door to pull out his phone, which had started ringing. Max leapt at the chance.
“J-just going to put my suitcase away, sir!”
Max flew out the door. Mr. Pitt barely noticed him leave, and Sasha was busy trying to scrub the butterfly from his face. Max knew he might have only a few seconds. Run into Mr. Darrow’s room, grab the castle, run out—that was the plan. If Mr. Pitt caught him before he got back downstairs…well, it didn’t even bear thinking about.
Max threw his suitcase into a cupboard and sprinted up the stairs to the staff corridor. Sure enough, he could see the light peeking from under Mr. Darrow’s bedroom door. He grabbed the key from behind the painting, unlocked the door and threw it open.
As he stepped inside the room, Max was struck by a thought: What if Mr. Darrow hadn’t come back?
It would mean that no one else had been in the room all summer. It would mean that everything would be exactly as Max had left it. It would mean that behind the door, time would have stood still for eight whole weeks.
After all, thought Max…what can happen in an empty room?
THE BOOK OF THE FLOOR
PART 1: THE CREATION OF THE FLOOR
I. In the beginning—eight weeks ago—there was nothing. The world lay scattered on the Floor and all was in darkness.
II. Then the Great One opened the Bedroom Door.
III. He looked upon the darkness and said the word—and the word was Ow.
IV. And with that, the Bulb came on. The serum in the sand came to life, and it grew and spread until it filled the room from corner to corner, from the Bed unto the Bin.
V. Then the Great One left again, for some reason.
VI. But with the light of the Bulb came life, and from the sand came the people of the Floor. They each had hair of different color: some Red, some Green, some Blue. But all were equal, because all were confused.
VII. They looked upon the Floor and asked, “Where are we?” and “Why are we here?” and many more annoying questions. For truly, no one had the foggiest.
VIII. Then there came the Wise Man. He was older than time, and knew the answers to all questions.
IX. He gathered the people together, and this is what he said:
X. “Look around you, people of the Floor! THE GREAT ONE has made this place for us!” And the Wise Man explained how the Great One had created the Bulb and the Floor and everything on it.
XI. Then someone asked, “But why would the Great One create us and then leave? That is just bonkers.” And all agreed that it was bonkers.
XII. The Wise Man said: “He must protect us from monsters that live beyond the Bedroom Door! They want to destroy our world—and none more so than DEMON!” And the Wise Man explained about Demon, the terrible beast bigger than mountains who hated the people of the Floor and wished them dead—and the people were greatly afraid.
XIII. But the Wise Man said: “Do not fear! The Great One will keep us safe. And one day he will return through the Bedroom Door, and take us all away to Paradise!”
XIV. At this, the people of the Floor were greatly excited; and they cried, “Long live the Great One!”
XV. And someone said, “Wait, sorry, who is this Great One exactly?”
XVI. And the people replied, “Are you serious, Terry, he’s the one who created us, try to keep up.”
XVII. Then someone asked the Wise Man: “What shall we do with ourselves until the Great One comes back?”
XVIII. The Wise Man gazed upon the Floor, and was silent for some time. He looked at the vast world before him—at the Bulb, and the Bin, and the Bed, and the desert sands that stretched from wall to wall.
XIX. Then he turned to the people—the Reds and the Greens and the Blues—and this is what he said:
XX. “We shall
build.”
Prince Luke swept the blue hair out of his eyes and faced his kingdom.
Blue Castle shimmered beneath the Bulb light. It was a beautiful sight: the tallest tower stretched over the desert sand, almost three inches in height. The Castle had belonged to the Blues ever since the tribes first scattered across the Floor. Luke’s father, King Adam, had discovered it in the desert himself. It just sat there, he said, waiting…as if someone had simply left it for them.
Over eight long weeks, the Blues had built huts around the Castle and turned it into a huge city. King Adam had ordered his soldiers to find every splinter of wood on the Floor, and then used those splinters to construct huge walls to protect the city from attacks by the Reds and the Greens. The entire Blue tribe—more than ten thousand people now—lived within the walls.
Luke gulped. In less than a minute, he was going to become their ruler.
“King Luke,” he said miserably. “King Luke of the Blues.”
He slumped onto the sand. It didn’t make any sense. He was about to become one of the most powerful men on the Floor…and he was only ten days old.
Luke had never expected to become king. His father had always ruled the Blues. Luke liked being a prince. All he had to do was sit around the Castle being waited on by servants and occasionally taking naps. Every now and then somebody would make him go to the library and “study,” which as far as Luke could tell meant sitting in front of a table with lots of books on it and falling asleep.
Then, two hours ago, everything changed.
Luke was eating in the grand dining hall. His father was late to dinner, as usual—he was often too busy to eat with the rest of the household. Besides, King Adam was nearly two months old; he needed rest. In fact, Luke thought as he tucked into dessert, his father was resting quite a lot nowadays….
Then the dining hall doors burst open, and a dozen Blue soldiers marched into the room. At the front stood Malcolm, the king’s advisor. His bright-blue beard, which reached past his knees, was wet with tears.
“The king is…dead!” he cried.
The diners gasped in horror. Malcolm held up King Adam’s wooden crown and sword.
“He died as he lived…throwing things and shouting at his servants!”
The dining hall was in uproar. King Adam—dead? He had always ruled the Blues—without him in charge, the tribe would have starved to death weeks ago! Who could possibly replace him?
Luke was asking himself that exact question when Malcolm turned to him with the crown.
“Arise, King Luke!”
It was that simple: one moment Luke was on his second helping of jelly, the next moment everyone was bowing down to him. He nearly choked.
“Me? King?!”
“Yes, you!” said Malcolm. “Now come on—arise!”
Luke didn’t know what arise meant, so he stood up instead. Malcolm started lowering the crown onto his head.
“That looks heavy,” Luke whimpered.
“For Great One’s sake, Luke—try to look like a king,” Malcolm whispered. “Everyone’s watching!”
Malcolm put the crown on Luke’s head. Luke’s legs buckled under the weight, and he hit the floor like a rail of shirts.
After that, everyone agreed that they should do a “proper” coronation—one where Luke didn’t fall over. All ten thousand Blues would gather below the tallest tower to watch him take up his father’s sword, recite the entire Book of the Floor by heart, and become their new king.
The only problem was Luke didn’t want to become king. He wasn’t anything like his father: he was clumsy and forgetful and small for his age. He had no idea how to lead an army, or give speeches, or defend the city from attacks by the Reds and the Greens. Now he’d be responsible for ten thousand Blues, all of whom needed feeding, and the only way to do that was to make the long quest to the Bin Kingdom. The leader of the Green tribe, the Bin King, had claimed the Bin when the tribes first scattered, and now it was the only source of food on the Floor. The Bin King could force the other tribes to pay ransom whenever he felt like it, and he usually did. Luke would have to make the perilous journey across the Floor to negotiate prices, then transport all the food back to Blue Castle while avoiding bands of Red marauders. He had never even been outside the city walls before.
Second by second, the coronation grew closer.
* * *
The final rehearsal for the coronation had been a complete disaster. During the bit where Luke was supposed to take up his father’s sword and swear to protect the kingdom, he’d tripped over his robes, which were far too big for him, and sliced off Malcolm’s beard.
“For Great One’s sake!” cried Malcolm, tying his beard back on. “The ceremony is only a few minutes away, and you’re still not ready! Please tell me you’ve at least learned the Book of the Floor by now….”
Luke cringed.
“I’ve been trying, honest! There’s just so much….I know the first bit, where the Great One makes everything and the Wise Man appears, but after that…”
Malcolm was furious. He shoved the Book into Luke’s hands.
“Go out into the desert,” he snapped, “and don’t come back till you’ve learned it!”
Luke was on the verge of tears. “Malcolm, please—I don’t know how to do this! I’m not my father!”
But Malcolm wasn’t listening. Luke made his way miserably to the stables and found his prized flea, Excelsior. She was one of the finest steeds on the Floor: sleek, polished and intelligent. Luke had found her when she was just a pupa and raised her himself. She was his best and only friend.
Excelsior squeaked happily when she saw him and hopped in circles, trying to play with him.
“Not now, girl,” said Luke glumly. “We’ve got work to do.”
Luke jumped on her back and she bounded out from the city walls. They rode until Blue Castle was far behind them and there was nothing around but desert. Luke climbed off Excelsior and patted her side affectionately.
“Off you go, girl. Not too far now.”
Excelsior hopped across the dunes, leaving Luke by himself. He sighed. There was a time when the thought of being outside the city on his own would have terrified him, but Red marauders and sand spiders didn’t frighten him anymore. There were much scarier things waiting for him back at Blue Castle.
Luke took off his father’s crown and sword and threw them to one side. He wished he felt sadder about his father’s death, but the truth was Luke had barely known him. King Adam might have been a great ruler, but he was a rubbish dad. The only quality time they ever spent together was once a day, on Luke’s Birth-Minute, when King Adam would storm into his bedroom, ask Luke why he was still so small, then storm out again. Whenever Luke tried to ask about his mother, whom he had never known, or tried to tell King Adam that he was bored inside the Castle with no one to play with except his pet flea, his father simply hadn’t listened.
“I guess the only one who really listens to me is you, Excelsior.”
But Excelsior wasn’t paying attention—she was busy digging in the sand for crumbs. Luke grumbled and opened the Book of the Floor instead.
“…So the Wise Man sent the people across the Floor to explore and build their world….And so it was that the tribes settled into their respective kingdoms: the Reds at the Bed, the Greens in the Bin, and the Blues in the Castle…and there they waited for the moment when the Great One would return through the Bedroom Door….”
Luke gazed up at the Bedroom Door. It dominated the wall ahead of him, stretching up higher than he could make out. He couldn’t imagine how something could simply walk through it—it was like trying to imagine the sky falling, or the Bulb going out. But supposedly, one day, that was exactly what would happen. The Great One would come back to the Floor and take them away. Because he loved them. Because he wanted to protect the
m.
Because he was always listening.
“Are you there?”
Luke’s voice faded across the dunes. He swallowed.
“Great One, I know you’re busy fighting Demon and everything, but if you are listening, then please…help me.”
The Bedroom Door stood still and silent. The only sound was Excelsior chasing her own antenna in the distance.
“I’m not ready for this,” said Luke. “I can’t protect the city from the Reds, or stop the Bin King from raising food prices….I’m too young to be king!”
He let his words drift over the desert.
“Please—find someone else to do it. Stop the coronation. Just do…something.”
Luke waited expectantly. The desert was silent.
Nothing.
Luke let out a deep sigh. Of course nothing happened. The Great One wasn’t listening to him really. Luke was just another tiny voice. He turned to Blue Castle, waiting for him in the distance.
“Oh well,” he said. “Here goes noth—”
The world turned black.
Luke gasped. A great wave of darkness spread across the dunes, blackening the sand and heading toward his kingdom. Luke watched as the enormous shadow stole across the rooftops and swallowed the Castle in darkness.
Excelsior bounded back to him, burying her head in his armpit and squeaking in terror. Luke stood bolted to the spot, his heart pounding. He had seen something like this before, when he was three days old. A fly had flown in front of the Bulb and cast its shadow on the Floor. Luke had been terrified—he thought it was a huge monster creeping over the sand to eat him. He thought it was Demon.
But this was no fly. This was huge. There was nothing on the Floor that was this big.
Nothing except—
Luke turned around, and his mouth fell open in amazement.
The Bedroom Door was opening, right in front of his eyes. A vast rectangle of shadow was cutting across the Bulb, splitting the Floor in two.
Max and the Millions Page 3
