Free Home Invasion by Monique Polak Page A

standing in our vestibule. They didn’t look like home invaders. Besides, home invaders don’t use the bell.
    â€œI’m Annette Levesque,” the woman said, reaching out to shake Clay’s hand. She looked tired. “This is my daughter, Patsy.” Patsy smiled. She had braces and wavy brown hair. You could tell she’d rather not be here. “We just moved in two doors down and we’re wondering if you have an X-Acto knife we could borrow. Ours is in a box somewhere.”
    â€œWe need an X-Acto knife so we can open boxes and find our X-Acto knife,” Patsy explained.
    I laughed. “I’ll get it. By the way,” I said before I headed back to the kitchen for the knife, “I’m Josh.” I lifted my chin toward my stepfather. “He’s Clay.”
    â€œWelcome to the ‘hood,” Clay said.
    Why did he have to say ‘hood? He’s such a loser.
    When I got back with the knife, Clay and Mrs. Levesque were discussing recipes. “I wish Sylvain would help with the cooking. Maybe you’ll be a good influence,” she said.
    Good influence? She’s got to be kidding! Last night Clay invented a new recipe—pasta with peanut butter. I wondered what Patsy would think of that.
    As I handed Patsy the knife the phone rang. Clay picked it up. I could tell from the way Mrs. Levesque and Patsy were shuffling that they wanted to leave, but they thought it’d be bad manners not to say good-bye first. Now they were stuck waiting for Clay to get off the phone.
    â€œAre you going to Royal Crest in the fall?” I asked Patsy.
    â€œUh-huh,” she said, “grade ten. How about you?”
    â€œMe too.” I wanted to tell her I could introduce her to some people, but I was listening in on the phone call.
    Clay raised his voice, which meant he was probably talking to my gramma in Toronto, who’s hard of hearing. “What’s the phone number there, Tammy? Of course, if you need her, she’ll come. No, no, she’ll want to be there with you. She’s out for a run, but I’ll have her phone you the minute she gets in.” He checked his watch.
    I was right. It was my grandmother. Something must be wrong.
    â€œIs Gramps all right?” I asked Clay.
    He didn’t answer. He wrote the number on a slip of paper.
    â€œWe really should be going,” Mrs. Levesque whispered.
    When I followed her and Patsy to the door, Mrs. Levesque squinted at me, like she was studying my face. “You have your dad’s eyes,” she said.
    One of Clay’s flip-flops was lying on thefloor in the hallway. I gave it a kick so that, for a second, it flew up into the air. “He’s not my dad,” I told her.

Chapter Two
    â€œAt least this’ll give you two an opportunity to bond,” Mom told us when we dropped her off at the airport.
    Gramps had a heart attack. The good news was he was going to be okay; there wasn’t much damage to his heart. The bad news was Gramma had flipped out, and needed Mom to be with her in Toronto for at least a week. Which meant I was stuck with Clay.
    I felt like puking when they gave each other one of those big mushy kisses. Instead Iturned away and counted to five, hoping that when I was done the two lovebirds would be through. It was a good thing she had a plane to catch or they might still be at it.
    On the way home, I made a point of not saying a word to Clay. I could tell from the way he tapped the steering wheel that I was making him uncomfortable. That cheered me up a little.
    There was a slimy brown apple core at the edge of the floor mat, near my right foot.
    â€œOops,” Clay said when he noticed me looking down at it. “I didn’t want to throw it out the window.”
    â€œDo you have a bag in here for garbage?” I asked him.
    He pointed to the glove compartment, but when I opened it, all this junk came tumbling out onto my lap. Crumpled-up maps, candy