“Oliver, come on,” says Jonah from the top of the chain link fence that encircles the empty playground. “Just climb over; it’s not that bad. Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

Now that’s too far; usually, I’m the bravest of the bunch.

Jonah and Remi are almost co-conspirators, the bad boys; I am the one that executes the plan but still has some common sense. Once upon a time, well, sometime on a fourth grade camping trip, Remi, Jonah and I were causing some mischief, like shining a light on a tent, making scary shadows, ear-blasting screeches and scaring the people inside the tent badly, or bringing down a tent with some girls in it. In fifth grade, Remi climbed on Jonah’s shoulders and, with direction from me, changed the clock to lunch time. The substitute teacher said, “Wow, the bell in here is mighty quiet,” and then, after we ate, we set it back to the real time.

Today we’ve woken up after having a sleepover at Remi’s house, so we’re still pretty tired. Last night, we made a plan to jump a fence and get into Rosa Parks Elementary School. Remi, Jonah and I have done this before, but it was only for about 3 minutes. Today we’ve planned to climb over the fence and draw chalk pictures on the ground. We know that it won't last until the first day of school and anyone who sees it will laugh at it, but it still feels like we are misbehaving.

Remi climbs over and scouts the area out. “All clear,” he says. “Jonah, jump!”

As Jonah jumps, the top of the fence grabs his underwear (Remi had previously wedgied it and it was still hanging out a little) just enough that it rips. Luckily, his shorts don’t rip, so we don’t have to call off the mission.

I’d already laid out the plan: one person would stand guard, while the other two would draw like maniacs. Every square inch of asphalt had to be covered.

I rush over the fence. My face red, I walk slowly up to Jonah. He starts to go back to the wall. About one foot away from him, I draw the angriest devil you have ever seen, the horns curling on the hot cement. The devil’s spear climbs the wall, straight to Jonah’s back. When I am done, I take a plastic fork out (that I had brought just in case) and poke him in the back. He yells at me all the classic stuff.

I ask Jonah, “Are you done? We have some drawing to do.” Without waiting for a response, I say, “I’m first guard. Jonah, Remi, ready, set, Go go go go!”

The start is exciting. A few people walk by—a businessman yelling on his phone, a kid blasting music on a old-fashioned boombox, a mom walking with a kid licking on a lolly pop. Every time someone walks by, I run around to Remi and Jonah, telling them to get to cover, someone is coming.

After seven minutes, Remi takes my place as lookout. I start to draw a poop emoji, a chicken crossing the road, Van Gogh’s “Starry Night,” but instead of the swirls I use squares. Suddenly, Jonah yells ”My art!” Then I feel it: RAIN! Slowly, one by one, big fat raindrops land on the ground. We see Remi eating a delicious looking candy bar as he walks around the playground, oblivious to the rain. As we are run over to him to tell him we must abort the mission, fat drops land on his candy bar. “Nooooooooooooooo, my candy bar is ruined!” says Remi.

“Come on. We have to get back,” I say. “My mom won’t like this. I am seeing Into the Woods in San Francisco at 4:00.”

Jonah hops the fence, trying to catch up with us. As we run back to the house, Remi laughs and jokes about how silly we are. Our whole trip hasn’t even lasted one hour.

As we’re running, Remi jokes, ”We should do this again.”

The first thought that flashes through my head is, No way. That was a complete fail. That no one saw us was amazing. And it was a bummer that no one saw our masterpiece.

Then, I realize that I’m laughing my guts out and I reconsider. Maybe if we just stick to our school instead, or strike Rosa Parks again, then Thousand Oaks and then…it feels good to mischievous. Bwhahahahahahaha.