from the hole. Eventually they reached a crayon and fed on the wax. A tiny flame stood up, calling to its fellows. An army formed and began to march across a sheet of paper.

Whomp!

Fire crawled upwards, filling the classroom and throwing black shadows away from every object. A bright orange glare shone from the windows, making the room look like a furnace.

In her box. Sweety bleated weakly. She didn't know what the crackling, roaring noises were. She had just woken up.

……………………………………..

"Senseless, stupid vandalism!" said the Principle, nearly spitting with rage early the next morning. The other teachers agreed. Some of them swore.

Mrs Bletcher stood near the charred remains of her classroom with a handkerchief to her eyes. She didn't catch all her tears. Some of them had made moist trails down her cheeks, like the silver lines left by snails.

The last of the fire engines pulled slowly away. A Police car nosed its way across the school grounds and stopped just outside the cordon. There was a big crowd standing around, and a photographer was there, for the local newspaper. Several policemen were inspecting the blackened classroom, talking to each other, taking notes. Looking for clues.

When Camile arrived, you could see what she was thinking about. The worry was all over her face like a mask. She ran to the edge of the cordon and searched the ruins of the classroom with her eyes.

"Was there a lamb in there?"

"How would you know?" said someone.

"If there was a lamb, it couldn't have survived," said someone else.

The sun began to fill the sky with its morning light. The pale sky looked like blue milk. Birds were beginning their chorus.

Camile turned sadly away from the black and charred ruins and made her way back to the car. Her mother, still in a dressing gown, didn't want to get out.

"Hey Camile!" called Sue, "You're sculpture's OK!"

"Who cares!"