The Fire Safety Officer Who Was PROMETHEUS

Part One. Mind the Flicker

On Monday morning, the green stalk was not leaning on the gatepost any more. A tall man was carrying it.

We knew the stalk. It was hollow, like a giant stick of celery, and right at the top of it there was a tiny orange glow. Ollie Grant had blown on it for a whole minute on Friday, and it had not gone out.

"Ah," said the tall man, and his face went all soft with relief. "You minded it. Thank you."

He had a bushy beard and eyes that looked as if they were always thinking three steps ahead. He also had a worried look, the kind you get when you have lost something very important and have just found it. His badge said MR PROME, FIRE SAFETY (AND FORESIGHT).

Under his other arm he had a clipboard. In his other hand he had a bucket of sand.

"I wrote the sign," he said. "MIND THE FLICKER. It is only a little flame, but it likes to be looked after."

"I blew on it," said Ollie. "For a whole minute."

"I know," said Mr Prome. "It liked that. It does not go out. That is rather the point."

Mister Harris came across the playground with his own clipboard, which he had brought in case Mr Prome's clipboard felt lonely. "Class, this is our new Fire Safety Officer. He is going to help us get ready for Bonfire Night."

Behind Mr Prome, a second man was trying to wave and carry a bag at the same time. He tripped over the bucket of sand, sat down in it, and said, "Oh! I should've looked first."

"This is my brother, Mr Epp," said Mr Prome. "He helps."

"Sometimes," said Mr Epp, from the sand.

Part Two. Backwards

Mister Harris explained the plan. Every November, our school has a bonfire evening on the field, with hot chocolate and toffee apples and everybody's mums and dads and grandparents in woolly hats. This year it would be on Friday.

"Why do we have a bonfire?" said Ollie.

"To remember something that happened a very long time ago," said Mister Harris, "and because it is lovely and warm when it is cold and dark."

Nobody could argue with that. Alex noticed something about Mr Epp. He noticed it before break, and then again at break, and then twice more at lunch. Mr Epp did everything in the wrong order.

He put his coat on over his jumper, and then put his jumper on over his coat, which did not work. He ate his pudding before his dinner. He opened the staffroom door and then looked to see whether anyone was behind it. (Mr Thorley was. It was fine. Mr Thorley said it was fine in quite a high voice.)

"Mr Epp," said Felix. "Why do you do everything backwards?"

"I don't know," said Mr Epp, and he sounded truly puzzled. "I only seem to think about things afterwards."

"We need Maya," said Alex.

"We need Maya," said Felix.

Part Three. Behind the Compost Bin

Maya Singh was already behind the compost bin, with her notebook and the pencil she keeps behind her ear. Willow was sitting on the lid like a cat on a throne. Kenji and Ollie were on their upside-down buckets, and Dot, who is in Reception but is an official member of the bin, sat on the end of the log with her feet not touching the ground.

"I have been waiting," said Maya. "Mr Prome is PROMETHEUS."

"Is that a sneeze?" said Kenji.

"No, Kenji."

Maya said that long before the Greek gods, there were older, bigger beings called Titans, and one of them was Prometheus. His name means forethought, which means thinking ahead. He was the cleverest of the Titans, and he cared about people.

"What did he do?" said Ollie.

"Long ago, the first people had no fire. The nights were freezing. They ate their food raw. They sat in the dark, and they could not even see each other's faces. And the king of the gods, Zeus, said that fire was only for gods."

"That is NOT fair," said Dot.

"Prometheus thought so too. So he took a tiny spark from the gods' fire, hid it inside a hollow fennel stalk, and carried it down to Earth, very, very carefully."

"The torch," said Alex.

"The torch," said Maya. "And with fire, people could keep warm and cook and make pots and tools and light their way home. It changed everything. Zeus was not pleased, but that is a long story, and it is for another day."

"What about Mr Epp?" said Felix.

"His name is Epimetheus. It means afterthought. Prometheus thinks first. Epimetheus does things first and thinks afterwards. They are brothers, and they are always getting each other out of trouble."

Alex held the pencil. Felix held the notebook, because they always share jobs.

1. THE FENNEL TORCH. A glow that does not go out.

2. THE FORETHOUGHT. It is on his badge. Maya said that was not subtle.

3. MR EPP. He is an afterthought.

4. THE BUCKET OF SAND. Mr Prome takes it everywhere. He says it is a good habit.

Willow stood up on the compost bin, stretched, and sat down again with her face to the field. When Willow does this, something is going to happen on the field.

Part Four. The Rules

On Tuesday, Mr Prome sat our whole class in a circle on the playground, round his bucket of sand.

"Fire is the best present anybody ever gave," he said. "But a present with no rules can hurt people. So I am going to teach you the rules. It will not take long, and I will not say it too loudly."

He held up a finger for each one.

"One. Fire is not a toy. Matches and lighters are for grown-ups who are careful. If you find some, do not touch. Tell a grown-up.

Two. Stay back. If there is a fire, you keep a long way away.

Three. Smoke rises, so stay low and go. If a room is smoky, bend down low, where the air is better, and go to the door.

Four. Get out, stay out. You never go back for anything, not even a toy, not even a pet.

Five. Never hide. Some people hide under a bed or a table when they are frightened, because a scared brain says, 'If I cannot see it, it cannot see me.' But then the grown-ups cannot find you. Come out. Go out. Be found.

Six. Grown-ups call for help. That is the number nine, nine, nine. You tell a grown-up, and the grown-up calls."

Kenji's hand went up. "I would hide," he said. "I think. Probably."

"A lot of people would," said Mr Prome, and he did not look surprised, or cross. "That is why we practise. Practising teaches your feet what to do when your brain is too frightened to think."

While he was saying it, something small and rattly fell out of Mr Epp's pocket and rolled across the playground. It was a box of matches.

Mr Prome caught it before it stopped. He did not shout. He put it in his own pocket.

"Matches are for grown-ups who are careful, Epp."

"I am careful," said Mr Epp. "Afterwards."

"Careful afterwards is not careful," said Mr Prome, quite gently, and quite firmly, and Mr Epp went pink and looked at his shoes.

Then Mr Prome taught us the fire song, so that the rules would stay in our heads:

"Fire is a friend, but it has some rules, Matches and lighters are grown-ups' tools. Low and go, and never hide, Get out, stay out, and wait outside!"

Mr Epp tried to join in, but he started at the last line, and finished at the first, and got so muddled that he sat down on the sand bucket again.

Part Five. The Practice

"Now," said Mr Prome. "We will practise. Imagine that the playground is a room, and that this is smoke."

He held up a long blue scarf, high in the air.

"First try," he said. "Go."

Ollie stood up and ran the wrong way. "My lunchbox!" he said. "It has a sausage roll in it!"

"Never go back," said Mr Prome.

"It is a really good sausage roll."

Everyone else squashed into one big lump in the corner, with their heads right up high in the smoke. Dot was being sat on by two people.

"Second try," said Mr Prome, and he sounded entirely cheerful about it.

This time we remembered to bend down, but we did it all at once, so that we bumped heads and fell over each other like a pile of coats. And when we got to the oak tree, which is where the school meets if there is a fire, nobody knew whether we were all there.

"It's a mess," whispered Felix. "How does anyone know who is missing?"

"Somebody has to count," said Alex, who had noticed that nobody had. "Not in a hurry. At the tree, as soon as we get there."

"Mrs Tibbs counts at the tree," said Felix. "And a big person stays with us. And the line has a front and a back, so nobody gets left in the middle."

Mr Prome wrote it on his clipboard.

"Third try," said Mrs Tibbs, who had joined us. "Slowly. Low. Walking."

It worked. We went out in a long wobbly line, low as ducks, with Alex at the front and Felix at the back, all the way to the oak tree. Mrs Tibbs counted us, out loud, with her finger. We were all there. Willow was there as well, sitting at the end of the line, waiting for someone to notice that she had been first.

"Good," said Mr Prome. "That is what the rules are for. Not to make you afraid. To make you ready."

Part Six. Mr Zed

On Wednesday, a very important person arrived in a long grey coat, with a tie shaped like a lightning bolt.

He was tall and broad, with white hair, a white beard and a very loud voice. He carried a briefcase with a ZIP on the front. His badge said MR ZED, COUNCIL SAFETY INSPECTOR.

He marched across the playground, into the staffroom, and said to Mister Harris, "I have heard there is a bonfire."

"On Friday," said Mister Harris. "Yes."

"With children."

"Yes, but..."

"With FIRE."

His voice was so loud that a pigeon fell off the roof. It flew back up, and looked again to check.

"Lightning tie," whispered Maya, behind the staffroom door. "White beard. Voice like thunder. A name that starts with Z."

"So?" whispered Kenji.

"So I am not saying anything," whispered Maya. "I am only writing down Z. And underlining it."

Mr Prome stood in the doorway holding his stalk. He and Mr Zed stared at each other for a very long time, the way two people do when they have had the same argument for a very, very long time.

"I see you are still at it," said Mr Zed, quite low.

"I see you are still worried," said Mr Prome.

"Fire is dangerous."

"So are lots of things. That is why we teach people how to use them."

"Children cannot be trusted with it."

"They can, if you trust them. I have taught them the rules. They know."

Mr Zed folded his arms. "I am cancelling the bonfire."

The whole staffroom gasped. Mr Epp accidentally ate Mister Harris's sandwich and said, "Oh! I should've asked."

"It is for their own safety," said Mr Zed, and he held out a big hand. "And you had better give me that torch."

Mr Prome held it tight. "You are not wrong to worry," he said. "But you cannot keep fire away from people. They need it."

"End of discussion," said Mr Zed, and he zipped his briefcase so hard that the zip said ZIP.

Part Seven. The Sad Wednesday

The whole class was sad that night. Ollie said it was the worst day of his whole life. Kenji drew a picture of a very sad toffee apple. Dot refused to eat her tea, until someone said there was crumble.

Alex and Felix were quiet at bedtime. They were thinking.

"It is not fair," said Alex. "They do not trust us."

"What if he is a bit right?" said Felix.

"About what?"

"Fire being dangerous."

Alex thought for a long time. "I think they are both right," he said.

"That is what Maya says about everything."

They both laughed, quietly, so as not to wake anyone. Then they said the song under their breath, all the way through, to the end, and fell asleep with it still in their heads.

Meanwhile, at the school, Mr Epp was standing by the staffroom drawer that says BIRTHDAY CANDLES ONLY. He had a very sad face and a very bad idea starting.

"Someone should do something," he said to nobody. "Someone should cheer them up. I will think of something. I will think about it afterwards."

Willow, who was asleep on the radiator, opened one eye and looked at him for a long time. Then she shut it again.

Part Eight. The Wrong Idea

On Thursday after school, the Reading Cabin was full of fancy dress.

Mrs Tibbs says stories are better if you dress for them, so the whole after-school club had come as goats, or bees, or in Ollie's case, a very large tomato. Kenji had goat ears on. Mrs Tibbs was in the story chair. We were all on beanbags. Willow was on a cushion by the window, which was where she always sat, because she says nobody should have to read a story without a cat.

Outside, on the field, behind the cabin, there was a pile of dry leaves that Mr Thorley had been saving for the compost. It was against the cabin wall, round the corner from the door.

Mr Prome was in the office with Mister Harris and Mr Zed, filling in forms. It took a long time, because Mr Zed's forms had forms.

And Mr Epp crept out across the field with a box of matches from the drawer.

He only wanted a tiny fire, he told himself. As small as a teacup. A little fire to show everyone that fires could be nice. He did not think about the wind. He did not think about the dry leaves, or the wall, or the sign on the cabin that said NO FIRE UNTIL A GROWN-UP SAYS. He did not think that he was a grown-up, and that he was not being careful.

He struck a match.

The wind took the little flame and blew it sideways. A spark leaped off it, spun up like a tiny orange firefly, and landed in the leaves.

"Oh," said Mr Epp. And then, very much louder, "OH NO."

A thin ribbon of smoke curled up. Then a flicker. Then a small, hungry flame, crawling up the wall of the Reading Cabin.

Mr Epp did not hide. We want to say that, because it is true. He dropped the matches, and he ran across the field shouting for his brother.

"PROME! FIRE! IT IS ME! IT IS FIRE!"

Part Nine. Alex Notices

Inside the cabin, Mrs Tibbs was reading the bit of the story where the goat says, "Who is that trip-trapping over my bridge?" Nobody had noticed anything.

Except Alex.

He had been looking out of the window, past Willow. He saw a thin grey line floating by the glass. It was not fog, and it was not a cloud. It was going UP, and it smelled like a burnt toast that nobody wanted.

His stomach went cold. For a moment he thought, Perhaps it is nothing. Perhaps everyone will laugh.

Then he thought of Mr Prome saying, Tell a grown-up.

He tugged Felix's sleeve. "Felix. Smoke."

Felix looked, and his eyes went wide. We would like to tell you that he was not afraid. He was. He took Alex's hand, and he held it tight.

Alex put up his other hand, very high, and said, in a voice that came out smaller than he wanted, "Mrs Tibbs. There is smoke outside."

Mrs Tibbs stopped. She looked at the window. Her face went white, but her voice came out steady as a table.

"Thank you, Alex. Everyone, stand up. Leave your things. Low and go. Walking, please."

Part Ten. Low and Go

Everybody stood up at once, and the cabin filled with noise. A girl in a bee costume started to cry, a big, wobbling cry. The smoke was only just beginning, thin and grey, high up near the ceiling.

Felix opened his mouth. He was not sure what would come out.

Out came the song.

"Fire is a friend, but it has some rules..."

His voice shook on the first line. Alex joined in on the second. Mrs Tibbs joined in on the third. By the end of the verse the whole cabin was singing, even the bee, who was still crying, but was singing as well.

"Low and go, and never hide, Get out, stay out, and wait outside!"

We went low, like ducks. Mrs Tibbs went to the door and held it open, and as we went past she touched each of us on the head, one, two, three, as if she were saying thank you to every one. The air outside was cold and clear, with a thin smell of smoke, and the fire was round the corner on the far wall of the cabin, a long way from the door. We walked across the grass to the oak tree. Nobody ran. Willow walked beside us, with her tail straight up, past the smoke, and past the noise of the school bell, which had started to clang, clang, clang across the field.

At the oak tree, we found Mr Pickering the lollipop man, who had been going home. He had stuck his lollipop sign in the ground like a flag. Elfine and Marion, who are big kids and had been sitting on the bench under the tree, had already stood up and held out their hands.

"I am Mr Pickering," he said. "I am staying right here with you, and I am not going anywhere. Everyone stay by the sign, please."

Part Eleven. Eleven

Mrs Tibbs had to go and tell the grown-ups, so Mr Pickering was in charge. He stood in front of us with his big, calm face. "Right," he said. "We count at the tree. Who is going to help me?"

"We will," said Alex.

Elfine took one end of the line, and Marion took the other, and Alex and Felix counted every head together, out loud, with a finger. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven," said Alex.

"That is eleven," said Felix.

"There should be twelve," said Alex.

It went very quiet under the oak tree. We could hear the school bell, and some far-off shouting, and the little crackle from behind the cabin. Dot slipped her hand into Alex's. Ollie, who is always hungry, was suddenly not hungry at all.

"Who is missing?" said Felix.

Alex ran through the line in his head, like a finger down a list. Then he thought of the cabin as they had stood up. The beanbags. The story table in the corner.

"A small blue shoe," said Alex, in a funny, thin voice. "It was sticking out from under the story table. I thought it was only a shoe."

"Kenji," said Felix.

Neither of them moved towards the cabin. They wanted to, very much, and their hearts were pounding. But they had practised the rule, and they stayed where they were, holding hands.

"MR PICKERING!" they shouted, together. "KENJI IS STILL INSIDE! UNDER THE STORY TABLE, AT THE BACK!"

Part Twelve. The Back Window

Mr Pickering did not go in. He cupped his hands round his mouth and used the voice he normally uses for stopping lorries.

"GROWN-UPS! ONE CHILD STILL INSIDE! THE BACK OF THE CABIN!"

Everything happened at once. Mr Shah, the music teacher, came running in his blue scarf. Mr Thorley came running behind him with his hammer. Mr Prome came running from the office, with Mister Harris, who was holding his phone to his ear and saying, "Yes. Yes. Nine, nine, nine. Yes, as fast as you can." Mrs Tibbs came running back too, and she stopped at the corner, and she did not go in.

The side with the fire was too hot to go near. But the back of the cabin was a long way from the flames, and it had a big, low window.

"That way!" said Mr Prome, and the grown-ups ran round to the back.

Felix, who had been standing very still, pulled on Mr Shah's scarf as he passed. "Kenji will not hear shouting," he said. "He goes quiet when he is scared. But he knows the song. If you sing him the song, he will remember what to do."

Mr Shah did not ask any questions. He put his face to the window.

"Low and go, low and go," sang Mr Shah, as loudly and as gently as he could, a voice that sounded like a warm hug with a drum in it. "Low and go, Kenji. Never hide."

We held our breath under the oak tree. We could not see. Alex squeezed Felix's hand so hard it went white.

From inside the cabin there came a tiny, wobbly voice. "I am under the table. I am scared."

"That is all right," sang Mr Shah. "Be scared. Come out anyway. Low and go."

A small hand came out. Then a grey face. Then a whole small boy, with goat ears, crawling very low, below the smoke, towards the window.

Mr Thorley opened it, very gently, so as not to startle anyone, and lifted Kenji out with his big hands like somebody lifting a bird.

"Gotcha," said Mr Thorley, in the quietest voice we have ever heard him use.

Part Thirteen. Wait

We cheered, a ragged little cheer from the oak tree, and Dot cried a bit.

But the fire was not finished.

The wind picked up. The flames leaped up the side of the Reading Cabin, and a shower of sparks flew off into the sky. The dry leaves roared. The heat was so strong that all of us were moved back, back, back, behind the oak, with Mr Pickering and his lollipop sign at the front, and the grown-ups making a long line in front of us. Mr Prome threw his bucket of sand on the smallest flames. It stopped a few of them, but the rest were too big, so he stepped back, as he had taught us. Mrs Ibbs wrote down the time. Mr Jackson counted the children, twice. Mr Shah stood in front of us, with Kenji wrapped in his scarf.

Mr Thorley was shaking with fury. "I'LL SEND A STORM!" he roared, and he raised his hammer to the sky.

"Wait," said Mr Zed. He had a hand on Mr Thorley's arm. His voice was very quiet.

"WHAT?"

"Every child is out," said Mr Zed. "Every one is counted. Help is coming. If you make a storm now, the wind will blow the fire the wrong way, across the field, towards the children."

"But..."

"Wait," said Mr Zed again. "Waiting is the hard part. It is the bravest part too."

Mr Thorley did not like it at all. His knuckles went white on the hammer. But he lowered his arm, and he waited.

Part Fourteen. The Engine and the Rain

A siren began to wail, a long way off, and then not so far off. A bright red fire engine roared down the road and stopped at the school gate with a squeal, and four firefighters in yellow helmets jumped out and ran across the grass with a long, fat hose.

They sprayed the flames. Water poured out in a great silver arc. The fire hissed and spat, and the smoke went from black to grey to white.

A firefighter walked over to us, her helmet in her hand. She knelt in front of the twins. "I heard that two of you spotted it first," she said.

We could not think of anything to say.

"That is exactly what you are supposed to do," she said. "You told a grown-up. You got out. You counted at the tree. You did not go back in, even though you wanted to. That is the hardest thing there is."

"We learned it from Mr Prome," said Alex.

"He made it into a song," said Felix.

The firefighter smiled. "I shall have to borrow it."

Then the air went quiet, and the wind dropped. Mr Zed nodded at Mr Thorley, and Mr Thorley said, "NOW?"

"Now," said Mr Zed.

Mr Thorley raised his hammer, and this time nobody stopped him. A small round grey cloud gathered above the field. A few fat drops fell. Then a few more. Then a gentle, steady rain that sizzled on the black leaves and soaked every last spark.

The fire was out. The firefighters rolled up their hose. A last curl of smoke rose from the cabin, and faded.

Nobody was hurt.

Part Fifteen. Blankets

We sat under the oak tree in a row, wrapped in the firefighters' silver blankets, which crackled whenever anyone moved. Elfine and Marion had made a rule that nobody was allowed to be on their own. Dot was on Ollie's lap. Ollie was eating a biscuit that Mrs Ibbs had found somewhere.

Kenji was between the twins, with his goat ears gone crooked. He did not say anything for a long time.

"I hid," he said at last. "I said I would, and I did. I put my hands over my eyes, and I thought, if I cannot see it, it cannot see me."

"We know," said Felix.

"Mr Prome said never to."

"Mr Prome said you would want to," said Alex. "He said a scared brain says hide. He said it is why we practise."

"I forgot," said Kenji.

"Your feet did not," said Felix. "When Mr Shah sang, you came out. That was the practice."

"You came out even though you were scared," said Alex. "That is the hard bit."

"So were we," said Alex.

"I was so scared my knees went floppy," said Felix.

"I could not feel my hand," said Alex.

"I ate a whole biscuit without tasting it," said Ollie, which for Ollie was very serious.

Kenji laughed, a wet, hiccuping laugh. Willow got up from the end of the row, stepped over four people in silver blankets, and sat in Kenji's lap, where she stayed. Willow had walked beside the smoke without bolting, through the bell and the sirens and the hose, and for a cat who hates loud noises that is the bravest thing there is. She turned round three times and went to sleep.

Part Sixteen. Mr Epp

Mr Epp was sitting on the wet grass by himself, with his head in his hands. He was soaking, and he was shaking. When the other grown-ups had gone to look at the cabin, Mr Prome sat down beside him.

"It was me," said Mr Epp. "I lit the match. I did not think."

"I know," said Mr Prome.

He did not put an arm round him. Not yet. He waited, and then he held out his hand, with the palm up.

"Matches, please."

Mr Epp gave him the box. His hand was shaking so hard that the matches rattled.

"Listen to me, Epp," said Mr Prome, very calm and very firm. "Matches are for grown-ups who are careful. Today you were not careful. You lit a flame beside dry leaves, beside a cabin full of children, and any one of them could have been badly hurt. That is not a small thing. Nobody was, but that was luck, and a lot of other people being careful. It was not because of you."

"I know," said Mr Epp, and tears dripped off his nose. "I am so sorry."

"I know you are. Saying sorry is a good start. Now there are other things."

Mr Zed had come to stand behind them. He had a very serious face. "No matches. No lighters. No candles. Not a birthday candle, for the rest of the year," he said. "And you will help Mr Thorley clear the burnt leaves, every day, until they are gone. And you will tell the whole school what happened, plainly, on Monday."

Mr Epp nodded at every one of them. Then he stood up, a bit wobbly, and spoke to the twins, who were standing nearby.

"I lit a match next to dry leaves and a cabin full of children," said Mr Epp, quite slowly, so that he got it right. "That was wrong. It could have hurt somebody. I am sorry, and I will never do it again."

"Thank you for saying it," said Alex.

"When you want to do something quickly," said Felix, "you can say, Stop. Breathe. Think."

"Before anything," said Felix. "It helps."

"Stop," said Mr Epp. "Breathe. Think." He said it three times, and then he put his arms round his brother and cried properly, and Mr Prome held him, and for once he did not say anything clever at all.

Part Seventeen. Careful Is Brave

Because of the fire, and the wet, the bonfire could not happen on Thursday. But on Friday morning, Mr Zed stood up in assembly with a very serious face and said that he was reconsidering.

He said the school could have a small, safe bonfire on Friday night, if every single person, including every grown-up, first sang the fire song.

We did. Every child, every teacher, every mum and dad and grandparent, and four firefighters, who stood by the ring of stones in their helmets and sang the chorus louder than anyone.

The fire was small and golden. There was a bucket of water on one side and a bucket of sand on the other, and everybody stood back as far as the oak tree. Mr Prome lit it himself, with a little flame from the end of his green stalk, very slowly, with Mr Zed beside him holding a bucket. Mr Epp stood at the edge with a bucket in each hand. It was a proper job, and nobody treated it as a joke.

We ate toffee apples and drank hot chocolate. The sparks went up into the dark like little stars,.

"That is what fire is for," said Mr Prome. "Warm. Light. Friends. Stories."

"It is rather lovely," said Mr Zed, who had a toffee apple stuck to his beard.

"It always was," said Mr Prome.

Later, as we were going home, he knelt in front of the twins. He gave each of them a tiny hollow stalk, with a small glow inside.

"This is not real fire," he said. "It is a little light, and it will not burn you. It is a reminder."

Alex and Felix held them up, and they glowed like two small fireflies.

"A fire needs rules to be a gift. A courage needs rules too. When it counted, you did not rush in. You noticed, and you spoke up, and you counted, and you stayed where you were put. That was not the easy thing. That was the brave thing. Careful is brave."

"Waiting was brave," said Dot, who had been hanging on to the back of Alex's coat.

"Singing was brave," said Ollie.

"Saying the sorry was brave," said Kenji.

"Staying at the tree and not going into the cabin was brave," said Maya, and wrote it down.

Willow blinked, once, slowly.

Part Eighteen. The Box

On the way to the gate, we saw Mr Hermes coming up the road. He was walking backwards, and he was carrying a very large wooden box.

The box was covered in locks. There were big locks, and small locks, and locks on top of locks. It was so heavy that Mr Hermes puffed, and then it was so heavy that he stopped, and then he just dropped it, with a THUD that made the gravel jump.

"Not mine," said Mr Hermes. "I only deliver. Mind your toes."

A big sign on the lid said:

FOR MR EPP. FROM PANDORA. DO NOT OPEN.

There was a second line, in smaller writing: Seriously, Epimetheus.

Maya went very pale. She opened her notebook, and a new line was there in grey writing, as if someone were writing it that very second. It said: 15. Careful is brave.

Mr Epp, who was standing by the bonfire with a bucket in each hand, stared at the box. He looked at the locks. He looked at the lid.

"I wonder what is inside," he said.

"STOP. BREATHE. THINK!" shouted Alex and Felix.

Mr Epp stopped. He took a deep breath. He thought. And very slowly, he put his hands in his pockets, where there was nothing at all.

Willow got up from Kenji's arms, walked across the gravel, and sat down beside the box, facing it, like somebody on guard.

Nobody said anything.

And at exactly the same time, Alex and Felix said, "Monday."

The End.