Home Invasion (6 page)

I felt my face get hot. Why did he have to be such a jerk?

Patsy took her hands out of her pockets. “Well, I'd better get some bagels,” she said. Then she tilted her chin toward me. “It'd be great to do something sometime…” she said.

“I — I'll come by your house.”

Clay waited for Patsy to walk to the counter at the back. Then he leaned over and nudged my elbow. “You're some smooth operator,” he said.

I gritted my teeth. Then I closed my eyes and tried to remember what my life was like before he came along and ruined it.

We ran errands after breakfast. We returned books to the library, dropped off clothes at the dry cleaner, shopped for groceries. I had to come since I was under you-know-who's supervision. I tried not to notice the cop car parked by the grocery store, but when I got out of the car, I felt eyes on me. Clay must've noticed too, because he put his arm around my shoulders, only I shook it off.

I unpacked the groceries. If I hadn't, Clay would've left them out in the hallway all week.

“I'm gonna have a little nap,” he announced, stretching his arms. “Part of my plan to catch the home invader. I read about this study that says people think better when they're lying down. What are your plans, Josh?”

I hadn't counted on having unsupervised time. “Ahh, I guess I'll play on the computer, send Mom an e-mail.”

“Say hi from me. Don't worry. No mushy stuff. Just hi.” Clay grabbed a mystery from the pile on the living room table. Was that also part of his plan for catching the home invader?

I had a lot of junk mail to delete. After that I wrote Mom. I could hear the steady drone of Clay's snoring coming from the living room: a quick inhalation followed by a loud wheezing sound. The guy even snored weird.

Taking small steps so the stairs wouldn't creak, I went downstairs. Clay's mouth was open. The book was lying facedown on his lap. If he woke up now, I'd say I was getting a snack. Maybe he wanted a bowl of ice cream too.

Outside the sky was as blue as a robin's egg. I could imagine my gramma saying how it's criminal to stay inside on a sunny day. Gramma was right. I went over to the window and peered up and down the street. No cop cars.

I grabbed my basketball. Usually I'd have dribbled in the hallway, but I didn't want to do anything that might wake Clay up — and ruin my plans for the afternoon.

I headed down the street toward Patsy's house. I pictured myself ringing her doorbell. She'd invite me in; her mom would offer me a cold drink. Then I'd ask Patsy on a date. “Wanna catch a movie with me?” I whispered to myself. I was pretty sure she'd say yes. Otherwise she wouldn't have acted so friendly at the bagel shop.

By the time I got to Patsy's, I wasn't feeling as confident. What if my voice squeaked? What if I blushed the way I sometimes did? What if she said no?

Mrs. Levesque was trimming a hedge at the side of the house. I watched her lay her shears on the grass. Then she stood up and
clapped her hands to loosen the dirt from her fingers. “Hi, Josh,” she called out when she spotted me walking by. “Going to play basketball?”

I bounced my ball on the sidewalk. I considered telling her I was about to drop in on Patsy, but somehow I couldn't. “Yup, gonna shoot some hoops,” I mumbled.

“Have fun,” she said as she adjusted her sun hat. That's when I noticed the side window was open again. This time there wasn't even a screen covering it. Hadn't the Levesques been watching the news? I nearly said something, but then, at the last second, I changed my mind.

When I got to the park, I shot a few hoops, but I kept thinking about that window. Instead of shooting hoops, I went back to the Levesques' house. Now there was no sign of Mrs. Levesque. I walked over to the window. It was still wide open — teasing me, like an invitation to a party I really wanted to go to.

Sometimes it felt like I was destined to be a home invader. And why fight destiny?
I peered in through the window to make sure the coast was clear. There was no sign of anyone on the first floor. So I hoisted myself in through the window and jumped down to the floor.

Instantly I felt the familiar rush of pleasure. Watching people when they didn't know I was there gave me a kind of high. Now was my chance to learn more about what was going on with the Levesques. Once I knew, I wouldn't need to come back. At least not like this.

“Patsy!” Mrs. Levesque's voice called from the basement. “Can you help me carry this planter out to the yard?”

“Can't it wait?” Patsy shouted from upstairs.

“No, it can't!” Mrs. Levesque insisted.

“Okay, then, I'm coming!”

I knew that meant Patsy would be coming down the stairs any second. So I ducked behind the living room door.

When Patsy rushed past me, her soapy smell lingered in the air. “There are a few more things you can help me with now that you're here,” I heard Mrs. Levesque say. Patsy moaned.

I stepped out from behind the door and walked over to the coffee table. On it were several framed photographs of the Levesques. Patsy and her parents lying in beach chairs. Another photo of the three of them with Mickey Mouse, probably taken at Disneyland. In the photos, at least, they looked like the perfect family — smiling and relaxed. But then I thought about the way I'd seen Mr. and Mrs. Levesque arguing, and Mr. Levesque's gambling problem. Maybe there was no such thing as a perfect family.

I had to stop looking at the photos when I heard Patsy and her mom coming up from the basement. This time my best bet seemed to be the utility closet. I sneaked in and crouched down between the bucket and brooms.

“Patsy, how about helping me mop the floor?” Mrs. Levesque asked. My heart started beating hard inside my chest. What would Patsy think if she found me? I inched back a little further into the closet. There wasn't much room, but I managed
to hide behind what looked like a painter's drop cloth.

“I wanted to go over to Tasha's,” Patsy muttered.

“We'll just do the kitchen floor then.”

I got another whiff of Patsy's soapy scent when she reached into the closet for the bucket. I was curious to hear what else Patsy and her mom would have to say to each other, but with the kitchen tap running, I couldn't make out their voices.

I let myself rest on a corner of the drop cloth. Between getting caught by the police and dealing with Clay, things had been pretty crazy the last couple of days. Who'd have guessed a guy would finally get to relax inside somebody else's closet?

I must've dozed off, because when I woke up, I had a crick in my neck. Uh-oh, I thought, what's Clay gonna think? It felt like I'd been asleep for a while. I saw that the mop and bucket were back at the front of the closet. I was about to push open the door when I heard voices.

I pressed my ear to the door to hear better.

“Who are you?” Mrs. Levesque was asking. Her voice sounded higher than usual.

“Just do what I say,” a gruff voice insisted. “I've got a knife.”

Yikes, I thought, what's going on here? I maneuvered my body so that I got a little closer to the front of the closet.

“Do what he says, Annette.” It was Mr. Levesque. From the sound of it, he was standing in the hallway, just outside the utility closet.

It had to be the home invader. The real home invader. If my heart had raced before, you should have heard it now. For a moment, I was afraid the others might hear it.

“Sit right here.”

“Don't hurt me!” Mrs. Levesque whimpered as the home invader dragged her to the other side of the living room.

“Listen to him, Annette.” Mr. Levesque's voice sounded a little farther away now. He was probably following his wife into the living room.

Where was Patsy? Had she left the house while I was asleep?

I thought about leaping out of the closet right then. But the home invader had a knife. I had only one advantage: that he didn't know I was there. For now, the best thing to do was wait — and try to come up with a plan.

I heard a loud tearing noise. It sounded like tape. He must be tying up the Levesques.

“Tell me where your valuables are and nobody will get hurt.”

“M … my jewelry is in my n … nightstand; so is the c … cash,” Mrs. Levesque stammered.

“What about laptops?”

“I have one in my briefcase. It's by the door,” Mr. Levesque said. “Over there.” I could tell he was doing his best to cooperate with the home invader.

I heard the home invader snap open the briefcase. I thought he'd go upstairs for the jewelry, but instead he went back over to the Levesques. I heard muffled noises and the sound of more tape. “Don't …” Mrs. Levesque said in a pleading voice.

Now I had managed to inch close enough to the front of the closet that I could open it a crack and see out. I pressed gently on the door so they wouldn't hear me. Mrs. Levesque's eyes were bulging with fear. I thought she was about to cry, but then her husband gave her a stern look. I watched as he mouthed the words “Stay calm!”

All I could see of the home invader was his back. He had broad shoulders, and despite the hot weather he was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt. He gagged Mrs. Levesque; next he stuffed what looked like an old washcloth into Mr. Levesque's mouth. Just watching made my mouth feel dry and sore.

Just then I heard footsteps overhead. Patsy. So she was home after all. Now she was coming downstairs, humming loudly, the way people do when they're wearing a headset. I watched the home invader's back as he headed toward the stairs. Don't hurt her, I thought to myself.

“Why are you wearing that stupid mask, Dad?” Patsy asked. “It's not Halloween.”

“You're right; it's not.”

That's when Patsy screamed, but only for a second.

“You wouldn't want to scare the neighbors, now, would you?” the home invader asked. He must have grabbed hold of her then, because I heard the sounds of a scuffle. A moment later, I watched as he led Patsy to another chair. When she reached out her foot to trip him, the home invader pulled out his knife. Its long blade glistened threateningly.

My breath caught in my throat. “Don't make me hurt you,” the home invader growled as he tied Patsy up and gagged her.

I had to stop myself from gasping when the home invader finally turned around and I saw his face. He was wearing a skeleton mask, with drops of blood dripping from between the glow-in-the-dark bones. That's when I knew for sure the home invader was no regular thief. A guy who broke into people's houses wearing that kind of mask had to be as interested in scaring them as he was in stealing their stuff. Suddenly I remembered what the professor had said during the TV interview.
Home invaders wanted to have power over helpless people.

He rushed upstairs. I could hear him pulling open doors and drawers, growing louder and more frantic as he searched.

Then he rushed back downstairs. “There's no jewelry or cash!” he shouted as he came into the living room.

He tugged the cloth from Mrs. Levesque's mouth. The skin around her mouth was red and swollen. “It's next to the bed,” she said, her voice shaking and her eyes beginning to pool with tears. “I promise.”

Patsy squirmed in her seat. I could tell that if she'd been able to, she'd have gotten up and jumped the home invader. But when I thought of his knife, I decided it was a good thing Patsy was tied up.

Mr. Levesque tried to say something. The home invader pulled the towel from his mouth too. “Annette …” This time I thought Mr. Levesque was about to cry. His voice, which had been strong until now, suddenly dropped to a whisper. “I spent the cash … and sold the jewelry.”

“What do you mean you sold the jewelry?” Mrs. Levesque didn't sound scared anymore; she sounded angry. Really angry.

“I'm sorry.” Mr. Levesque dropped his eyes to the floor.

Now Patsy's eyes were darting back and forth between her parents. You could tell she was trying to make sense of their conversation.

The home invader threw his hands up
into the air. “What is this? Some kind of bad reality TV?”

Mrs. Levesque ignored him. Instead she focused on her husband. “You told me it was over, Sylvain. You told me things would change when we moved here.”

“I tried, Annette … believe me, I tried.”

Now Mrs. Levesque turned to the home invader. “He gambles. Now he's gambled away my jewelry. My grandmother's jewelry.” Her voice shook.

Patsy's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. Her cheeks were puffed up too, because of the gag in her mouth. I had the feeling this was the first she'd heard about her dad's gambling problem.

Patsy cringed when the home invader dropped to his knees in front of her. “I'll take this,” he said, snatching her iPod from out of her pocket. Then he looked back at Mrs. Levesque. “You have silverware? Or did he sell that too?”

“It's in the kitchen,” Mrs. Levesque said. “Second set of drawers to the left of the sink. At least it was there last time I checked,”
she added, giving her husband an accusing look.

“It's there,” Mr. Levesque said in a hoarse voice.

As soon as the home invader got to the kitchen, I stepped out of the closet, carrying the metal bucket. My legs felt wobbly but at least now I had a plan. Well, sort of a plan anyway. Catching the home invader, solving a mystery, making a painting—they were all about details.

I raised a finger to my mouth. If the home invader found me now, he'd tie me up too, and then I wouldn't be of much use to the Levesques.

Patsy's eyes bulged. I could tell I had frightened her, but there wasn't anything I could do about it then. Right now, every second counted.

I could hear the home invader pulling open kitchen drawers. Then I heard the clatter of silverware as he emptied it into a bag.