32 Going Up

Chapter 32 Going Up Rocky, why on earth did you press the top-floor button?' said Little-Bit. 'Look, I panicked,' replied the boy. 'I didn't exactly have time to consider my options. I just pressed anything!' 'Well, next time try to think it through. 'Oh, I'm so sorry! Maybe I should have just let that big, massive ginger bloke open the door and catch us. Anyway, what 'next time"? I'm not actually planning on making this a regular occurrence!' Quiet, you two,' snapped Peanut. 'I'm trying to concentrate.' She was kneeling,

furiously drawing three large sketches in mid-air with Little Tail. 'What floor are we on?' 'Seventy-four,' said Little-Bit. 'No, seventy-eight. Eighty! Eighty-three! And we're heading up to one hundred and two. It says "Observation Deck" next to it. Thirty seconds later, there was a ding sound, and the doors slid open. ' Right. This one's for you, LB, and this one's for you, Rockwell,' said Peanut, pointing to the drawings. 'Try not to touch them with your hands as you put them on.' Floating near the floor of the elevator were three drawings of what looked like rucksacks. The children all crouched down and reversed into them, awkwardly hooking their arms through the graphite shoulder straps. Once the drawings were safely on their backs, they turned left out of the elevator. 'Oh no,' said Peanut, looking at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that surrounded them. 'It's not an open-air observation deck!'

'That's a good thing, isn't it?' said Rockwell. 'Much safer. After all, we don't want to go over the edge.' 'On the contrary,' said Peanut, looking around. 'Right! This way!' They headed back past the lift, through a small door to their left and up a flight of stairs. ' Er, Peanut? What did you mean when you said "on the contrary"?' asked Rockwell nervously as they climbed. 'Oh, don't worry about it,' replied Peanut. Let's just get to the top of these stairs as quickly as we can, shall we?' Suddenly they heard a familiar ding behind them, followed by the sound of lift doors opening. 'THERE THEY ARE! GET UP THOSE STAIRS, YOU BLOCKHEAD!' Mr White's dulcet tones signalled to the children that they had company. As the children got to the top of the metal staircase, they heard the clanging sound of Alan's heavy footsteps at the bottom. As quickly as she could, Peanut pulled open the heavy steel door in front of them, which immediately flooded the dark stairwell with sunlight. Then the three of them ran out into the fresh air. ' WHOA!' shouted Rockwell, windmilling his arms backwards as he came to a sudden stop. 'We are very high up! And that barrier is very low down!' The children looked out, past the waist-high concrete

wall that lined the narrow walkway surrounding the top of the building. The view was breathtaking. Thousands of tall, grey buildings, packed tightly together like concrete redwoods in an urban forest, stretched to the horizon. The city was bordered on each side by water, and punctuated by a large area of greenery in the centre. In any other circumstance, one that didn't involve them running for their lives, it would have been perfect Instagram fodder. 'I hate to say this, Peanut,' said Little-Bit, but I think we might be trapped. 'WE'RE DEFINITELY TRAPPED!' echoed Rockwell loudly. 'OH NO, WHY ME?' 'Guys,' said Peanut calmly. 'Do you trust me?' 'WHAT?' shrieked Rockwell. 'NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT!' 'Do... you... trust... me?' repeated Peanut slowly. 'Of course we do!' said Little-Bit. 'Well, in that case promise me you'll do exactly as I tell you. Whatever that may be.' 'OK. I promise,' said Little-Bit. 'Rockwell?' YES! WHATEVER! I PROMISE!' said the near-hysterical boy. At that moment, Alan and Mr White appeared in the doorway behind them. ' Well, well, well. If it isn't Miss Pinilla Jones,' sneered Mr

White. 'Fancy seeing you here. Having a nice little outing with your friends, are we?' 'It's Peanut, actually! And we know all about you, Mr White. That you're stealing the world's greatest works of art so that you have them all to yourself. It's quite the plan. And nothing could bring me more pleasure than scuppering it!' 'Ha!' said Mr White, holding on to his fedora to stop the wind blowing it from his head. 'I think that may be wishful