5:38 p.m. Lightning all around, the sky silvery grey, as I wriggled my way under the fence. The bottom of the wooden palings tore at the grazes on my back, and I had the taste of dirt on my tongue. I was crawling into a garden. The rain hadn't hit yet but the wind was full-on, blowing the plants in every direction. There was a distant boom of thunder. Through the hedge and down the slope I could see the party was kicking in. The house was open-plan with big bi-fold doors so you could see right through to the pool out front, water blowing off it in sheets, the ocean beyond. About fifty kids were cutting loose to a hip-hop track on the dance floor by the pool where the band were setting up.
We were way up at the back of the house. We'd been circling Cat's three-metre fence for twenty minutes before Paul noticed a bunch of rocks blocking a hole where a dog had been digging. We rolled the rocks away and, voila! Our invite to the party of the year.
Gatecrashing didn't feel so good. Not just because the row of hedge-bushes I was sliding into had about six hundred kilos of manure in it but because I didn't even want to go to the party. But we had to get our camera back. My dad was up the hill looking after the trike. Jewels was probably inside. She was the key to me getting the camera.
Once I was through I waited for Paul's head to appear in the dog hole. But it didn't.
'What are you doing?' I yelled, trying to be heard over the combined noise of wind and music.
'Reereeroraa,' was what I heard back.
'Speak up, moron. I can't hear you,' I said.
'I can't do it,' he yelled.
I crouched down and spoke through the hole I'd just crawled through, like I was talking to a bank teller, waiting for them to slide me my cash.
'You better be coming through!' I said.
'I can't man. It's my claust–'
'Don't tell me that. I don't wanna hear it. Just. Get. Under. The. Fence.'
As well as fear of old people and flying, Paul was petrified of small spaces. Squeezing through a hole under a fence into a manure-filled hedgerow really wasn't his idea of a great night out.
'You go. I'll find another way,' he said.
I cupped my hands to my face. This was so typical. But I didn't have time to psychologise the dude into climbing under.
'Whatever, man. Just make it fast.'
So, I was on my own. All I had to do was make contact with Jewels, get upstairs without being seen, search around, find our camera and get out again. My school shorts and a T-shirt from Big W that I'd borrowed from Paul were now covered in dirt, dog hair and manure. This'd be a piece of cake.