My motivation lasts through most of the room but it’s all like that first drawer. Mum has been through it all with a fine-tooth comb. Finding the yarndi pipe tucked inside Laney’s track shoes makes me wince. When she got home she’d have a little grace period, but it wouldn’t last. She’d be hauled over the coals for all of this. Thomson women hold grudges like it’s a competitive sport. Maybe I should petition the Sydney organisers to add it to next year’s Olympics.

I flop back on Laney’s bed, discouraged and confused. I stare up at all the posters she has lining the walls and ceiling. She collects all the teen magazines and reads them from cover to cover, but the posters are her favourite bits. I teased her constantly about all the shirtless actors and musicians she had up there, till she caught me watching Days of Our Lives just so I could perv on Jensen Ackles.

The memory makes me smile as I skim my eyes over Laney’s gallery. She swaps them out regularly with each new heart-throb, all except for the Tupac one on her cupboard door, and the LL Cool J one on the ceiling, right above where her head lies. His trademark bucket hat and sexy grin are the only things he has on, giving a full view of that lovely chest. I trace my eyes over it, drawn to something in one corner. One pec is popping out in a weird way, making him look lopsided. I snort a laugh, Laney will be so pissed if her precious poster is damaged.

Still, it does look strange and I can’t resist standing on the bed and reaching up. I trace around the pec, feeling like a pervert, until I feel something shift. Frowning, I prod each of his nipples, and nothing moves except for that first one. My heart skips a beat as I work to loosen the Blu Tack on one corner. I do not want to be the one that damages it or Laney will damage me. Once it’s free, I peel back the top corner and jump back with a yelp as something drops, hitting me on the head and brushing down my body. I see a furry black thing fly past. Huntsman! I leap a metre in the air and off the bed, brushing frantically everywhere the thing touched.

Only once I calm down, do I look again. The small black thing is still there. A velvet bag?