By the time we reach the door to the fence and sneak in, the music is so loud my eardrums might just burst into about a million pieces. Someone’s water gun fires, and I wince as the droplets fly.

‘It’s fun!’ Brianna chirps happily, moving her shoulders to the beat of the invasively booming Bollywood song playing in the background. Ever so eager to make conversation no matter where we put her, Brianna taps a nearby girl’s shoulder. ‘Hey! Do you know what time this thing ends?’

The girl just shrugs and laughs. And then proceeds to throw a fistful of pink powder straight at a shocked Brianna.

Our cheerful midfielder spits out bits of pink with a strangled, ‘Oh, okay!’ Then, to me, ‘May? Is this normal?’

‘Yes.’ I can’t help but laugh. ‘Holi is the festival of colours. The whole thing is that you throw these coloured paints and water at each other. Or—’

I don’t get to finish. An arc of bright blue soaks my entire left arm. My mouth slowly falls open as I turn to absolutely storm down the offender. ‘Water cannons,’ I mutter through gritted teeth, getting ready to hit the warpath, Smurf-blue and all.

Colt stands a couple of paces away with a group of young boys, all of whom are exchanging smirks and giggling. A big grin spreads across his face as he holds out a cannon happily. ‘Retaliate!’ he shouts. ‘It’s fun!’

I absolutely refuse. I won’t be retaliating anytime soon, considering I’m already turning into a blueberry from the left side. But the urge to get Colt back for this attack is stronger.

Jordan is already at my side with an entire bag of purple colouring. ‘Get ’em,’ she jeers, grabbing a fistful herself.

I reach in, take as much powder as I can hold, and make a run for it. Colt’s eyes widen, and he reacts far too late. By the time he’s dodging, I’m already throwing the entire mass of purple right at him. The cloud of it erupts every which way, and once it dissipates, he’s standing there with purple all over his hoodie and face, his cannon at the ready.

This time, when he fires it, it’s straight on. Nearly every part of me that’s facing him is dyed blue in less than a second, and those damn kids he’s got to do his bidding take their shot at the same time, spraying me with red and pink and orange while I struggle to run from these ridiculously fast boys, dodging disappointed aunties and drunk uncles.

‘An army?’ I gasp through coloured water. ‘Of children? How, Colt?’

‘I’m a personable guy,’ he chuckles as he jogs towards me, but when he pumps the cannon, a sad little spray comes out. ‘Aw, come on! Dude, Rahul! Hit me!’