Home Invasion

by Monique Polak

  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.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “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.

  If only I had a little more time. In the end, it was Mrs. Levesque who helped me out. “There’s grocery money too. Not a lot, but you can have it if you’ll go away and leave us alone,” she called out so the home invader would hear her. “It’s in the back pantry in a peanut butter jar.”

  The home invader whistled. “That’s what I like,” he called out. “Cooperation!”

  I held the bucket by the handle, careful not to let it bump into anything. It wasn’t exactly a lethal weapon, but it was all I had.

  I took a deep breath and tiptoed toward the kitchen, keeping as close as possible to the wall. Like before, all I could see was the home invader’s back. He was crouched on the floor, rummaging through the pantry and making grunting noises as he searched for the peanut butter jar. The handle of the knife jutted out of his side pocket.

  I willed him not to turn around. Just give me a few more seconds, I thought. This time I couldn’t hesitate.

  I was so close I could smell him. I swung the pail with every ounce of strength I had, aiming right for the middle of the thin white elastic that was holding his skeleton mask in place.

  He yelled as he tumbled over, his face to the ground. He was sprawled on the tile floor; his arms and legs were twitching. The bump on the back of his head was already as big as an egg. How long did I have before he regained consciousness? My fingers shook as I slid the knife out of his pocket. Then I raced back to the living room.

  First I used the knife to cut the tape on Mr. Levesque’s wrists and ankles. “Phone the police,” I told him as I began freeing Mrs. Levesque and Patsy. The electrical tape had left red welts on their wrists and ankles. When I took the gag from Patsy’s mouth, she started to cough. I hoped the noise wouldn’t wake up the home invader.

  In the background, I heard Mr. Levesque whispering on the phone.

  Mostly, of course, I was listening for sounds in the kitchen. For now, all I heard was the steady drip of the Levesques’ leaky faucet. With the knife in one hand, I grabbed what was left of the roll of electrical tape.

  Patsy and her parents followed me back into the kitchen.

  “Quick!” I said, keeping my voice low. “We need to drag him someplace where we can tie him up.”

  “The table!” Patsy said.

  Together the four of us managed to drag the home invader over to the table. His mask was half off now, so we could see a bit of his face. It was badly sunburned and he had a thin moustache and small beard. He looked like a regular guy.

  Using the long strips of tape Patsy handed me, I tied his wrists to the table legs. If he wanted to go anywhere, he’d have to take the table with him.

  Suddenly he moaned. Then he opened one bloodshot eye. I lifted the knife into the air so he’d see I had it. “Don’t make me use this,” I said. I hoped he wouldn’t notice my voice was shaking.

  He moaned again when he heard the sirens. Mrs. Levesque let the cops in, while Patsy, her dad and I stayed in the kitchen with the home invader. His eyes were closed again, but he seemed to be breathing normally.

  Four cops rushed into the kitchen, their hands on their holsters. “This young man managed to subdue him,” Mr. Levesque said, clapping me on the shoulder. One of the cops loosened the home invader’s hands from the table leg. At the same time, another one clasped a pair of handcuffs around the home invader’s wrists.

  I recognized the last cop. It was the woman from the police station — the one who’d complained about her boyfriend’s kid. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyebrows arching as she spoke. “Your stepfather’s supposed to be supervising you.”

  “I guess he’s not doing a very good job,” a voice said. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Clay. He was standing in the hallway, his cowlick sticking up. For the first time ever, I was glad to see him. Well, kind of glad, anyhow.

  “What were you doing here?” Patsy wanted to know after the police had escorted the home invader from the Levesques’ house. We were standing on the front balcony. Clay was inside, chatting with Patsy’s parents.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

  “Of course I do,” Patsy said.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m a freak,” I whispered.

  I thought Patsy might turn away, but she didn’t. “Look,” she said, “whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  “The thing is,” I said as I looked up into her eyes, “I’m kind of a home invader myself.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “No,” Patsy said, blocking my hand when I tried to reach into my pocket for money. “I want to pay for both of us.”

  “No way,” I told her. “Next time.” I wanted her to know I hoped there’d be a next time.

  It wasn’t exactly a date. I’d been invited for dinner at her house, and it had just seemed kind of natural to suggest catching a movie at the mall afterward. I already liked Patsy, but I liked her even more when she told me she was into martial arts movies.

  I was a bit worried that it’d be hard to make conversation, but so far we had lots to talk about. Clay told me that on his first date with my mom, he’d actually written up a list of stuff they could discuss. But in the end, he’d said, he hadn’t had to use it.

  “So what did you think of my mom’s lasagna?” Patsy asked as we got closer to the ticket booth.

  “She makes great meat sauce.”

  Patsy laughed. “You mean tofu sauce.”

  I gulped. “That was tofu? I hate tofu.”

  “I thought I hated it too. At first. Then I got used to it.”

  “Your mom and dad seem to be doing okay,” I said. Patsy and I hadn
’t talked much about what had happened that day at her house, but I had this feeling I had to say something. After all, I knew more about her family than most people did. And of course, she knew a lot about me too.

  “Mom’s a lot happier now that Dad’s in counseling for his gambling problem,” Patsy said as casually as if we were still talking about lasagna. I looked around to check no one else was listening in. “Mom and I are gonna have to go too. For family counseling,” Patsy added.

  “They want me to go too,” I said, dropping my voice.

  When Patsy smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkled. “Family counseling is in,” she said.

  “It is?”

  I was glad she let me pay for the tickets.

  “Do you want butter on your popcorn?” I asked her as we headed for the concession counter. There was a line there too. Oh well, I thought, that gives us more time to talk.

  Patsy was the one who came up with the next topic. “Are you going to the trial?” she asked.

  She was talking about the home invader, of course. Now that he was out of the hospital, he was going to be tried on nine counts of break and entry. I’d told Mom I wanted to go — even if it meant missing a few days of basketball camp. I’d talked Mom and Clay into enrolling me for another month.

  “I’d like to go,” I told her. Then I told Patsy something I hadn’t told anybody else. “You know, I’m kind of relieved all the home invader had was a concussion. The thing is, I feel kind of connected to him. Like I understand him.”

  Patsy raised her eyebrows.

  “Not the tying people up part, or stealing their stuff, or scaring them,” I added quickly. “More the observing people part.”

  I felt Patsy’s eyes scan my face as if she were looking for something. “Why can’t you just observe them outside their houses? Like here, for instance.” She lifted her eyes up toward the girl who was selling popcorn. The girl tugged at her hair net, then reached down to massage her lower back. You could tell she was eager to finish her shift.

  “I can. I do. It’s just that observing people is more interesting when they don’t know you’re watching them. Then you really get to know them.”