We stop in front of Warren’s house. It’s twelve o’ clock. We stand outside on the sidewalk and Warren lights a cigarette. I wonder why we’re not putting the bikes away. What’s Warren thinking about this time?

“So, where are you going to get a mattress?” Warren asks me, exhaling cigarette smoke.

“I’m going to ask aunty Sybil,” I say.

“You’re already asking that woman too much,” he says, eyebrows raised. “Now you’ll also have to ask her to let Chantal and Keisha stay in the wendy house with you.” He looks around, then back at me. “I was thinking while we cycled here. Let’s put on hoodies and go back to that house.”

“Are you crazy?” I ask, my heart suddenly thumping hard.

“Why not?” he says. “This is our chance. I’ll get us two hoodies, then we can go.”

Warren gives me the lit cigarette and walks into the house. He returns with two black hoodies and gives one to me.

“It will all work out,” he says as he pulls his hoodie on. “You’ll see.”

“I hope so,” I say. I realise it’s now or never. I’m going to break the law today. But what else can I do? I have to look after Keisha. I quickly pull the hoodie over my head.

We cycle to Monte Vista the same way as before, but this time we won’t be returning with empty hands. We stop at the swimming pool and chain the bikes to the bike rack. As we walk down the quiet street once more, my heart is beating wildly. We follow the same procedure. Warren knocks on the front door, I look around. I search for a moving curtain or someone peering through a window. Nothing. On the left side of the house there’s a double gate made of steel.

“I’ve knocked enough times,” Warren whispers to me. “It’s obvious that there’s no-one inside.”

I want to say we should go in, but I’m too scared. Warren is the mastermind, after all.

“Let’s walk around the back,” he says softly. “Just act normal. It should look like we live in the area.”

We walk up to the gate. There’s no lock on it. Warren opens it and we walk through. At the back of the house there’s an oval-shaped swimming pool and a barbeque. Against the vibracrete wall there’s a pile of stacked wood and an axe. To my relief, there’s no kennel or dog. But my heart won’t stop hammering in my chest.

Warren takes the axe and starts to force open a window. He’s been doing this kind of thing for a long time and he gets the window open in no time.

“Go and check if anyone’s looking in this direction,” Warren says.

I peer over the walls on both sides of the house. At the house on the left side, there’s a bungalow. At the house on the right side, there’s a Nissan bakkie. Not a soul in sight.

“There’s no-one around,” I tell Warren.

“Check out the house at the back,” he says.

I peer over the back wall. There’s another swimming pool, but it’s dead quiet. We can walk out along the side of the house, then we’ll be in the next street. I go back to where Warren is waiting.

“It’s quiet at the back,” I say.

“Good,” he says. “Quick, help me up.”

I link my fingers together and let Warren step on the inside of my hands. He wriggles his body through the open window and the curtain closes behind him. I stand with my back against the wall and look around. He should hurry up; I don’t want to hang around for too long. We don’t even know what time the home’s owners will return.

“Psst!” I jump, but it’s Warren peeking through the window. “Aren’t you going to climb through the window?” he asks.

I’m lost for words. “I’ll wait here. If I see any people, I’ll whistle.”

“Are you sure?” Warren asks. “I’m only going to take the gold chains and rings and the money. If you want something for your wendy house, you have to come and get it yourself. I’m not your servant.”

“I’ll wait here,” I say hoarsely. My voice sounds like a stranger’s. What the hell am I doing?

Warren vanishes once more.

A few seconds later, I hear a shrill sound. At first, the sound is soft, but then it becomes loud and clear. It’s an alarm.

Warren tugs the window open. The alarm is blaring much louder now. He struggles to climb out the window.

“What do you think you’re doing, you bliksems!” a man’s voice says behind me. It comes from my right hand side, from the house with the Nissan bakkie.

That’s enough for me. Warren is still twisting out the window, but I don’t wait for him. I run to the back wall and jump over it. Adrenaline courses through my body. I run along the side of the house. In the front garden, I jump over a low wall. I run along the sidewalk without looking back. As I run, dogs bark and snap behind locked gates, but I get my second wind and move faster. There’s no time to think about Warren. I need to get to the swimming pool. Need to get the bike and disappear.

I reach the pool. I’m out of breath and my chest burns. It’s from too much smoking and too little exercise. I unlock the lock and chain around the bike’s bars. Glance around me a few times and start cycling. I remember the way home, so I keep to the back streets.

At home, I put the bike in the wendy house. My dad isn’t there. That’s good, I need time to think. Did they catch Warren? It looked like it. I feel guilty. What were we doing?

Tell us: Did Michael do the right thing by running away? What else could he have done?