Home Invasion Read Online Free

in the bridge project, and he couldn’t get away. Maybe, he wrote, he’d be able to come in January. Or maybe I could come to China over the Christmas holidays. Didn’t that sound like a great idea? He knew I’d understand, and he promised to write again soon. Love, Dad.
    What a bummer, I thought. I watched my reflection in the mirror across from my bed. I had my dad’s curly hair and brown eyes, but I was starting to forget what he looked like. I hadn’t seen him in eleven months. That was almost a year. It wasn’t right.
    Wait until Mom heard. They didn’t exactly get along, which might explain why they got divorced. She was always going on about how Dad didn’t keep his promises or meet his obligations. Now she’d have more ammunition to use against him.
    There was a knock at my door. “Everything okay in there?” Clay asked.
    â€œDon’t come in,” I told him.
    I waited for him to leave, but he didn’tbudge. I could hear him breathing. Why didn’t he just leave me alone?
    â€œEverything okay with your dad?”
    I ignored the question.
    â€œHow about a cup of tea?”
    â€œNo thanks.” I tried to keep my voice calm.
    I felt a little better when I heard him head downstairs. But then I heard him stop on the landing. “You sure about the tea? We’ve got some Chinese oolong,” he called.
    â€œI’m sure!” I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just how it came out.
    â€œWhat time did you say your friend is coming for supper?” Clay called from the kitchen when I came downstairs about half an hour later.
    â€œSix thirty.” I’d almost forgotten Bobby was coming. He’d invited himself, really. He’d been complaining about having to eat frozen pizza pockets all week while his parents were away. “What kind of grub do you get over at your house?” he’d wanted to know. So I invited him for dinner — though I made sure to warn him about Clay’s cooking.
    â€œDo you need some help in there?” I asked Clay. I didn’t really feel like helping, but I figured I should at least offer.
    I could hear him chopping away. “Nah,” he said, “go relax. Your friend will be here soon.”
    Bobby showed up early. “I was starving,” he explained when I opened the door to let him in. “Hey, what’s going on in here?” Bobby waved his hands in the air.
    That’s when I noticed the smoke. A weird thing about smoke is that sometimes, when you’re in a place, you don’t notice it building up. But when I turned around to lead Bobby into the kitchen, the whole first floor of the house was gray with smoke.
    â€œPleased to meet you, Bobby,” Clay called out. All we could see of him was his maroon housecoat. The burners on the stove were glowing bright red. There were pots and pans everywhere. Not just on the stove and the counter; there was even a pot by Clay’s feet.
    â€œFor potato peels,” he explained when he caught me looking at it. “I hope you likeIndian food,” he told Bobby. “I’m making chicken curry.”
    â€œSounds great,” Bobby said.
    Suck up, I thought.
    â€œWhy don’t you guys open the windows?” Clay said.
    By the time the smoke cleared, dinner was ready. We sat at the kitchen table.
    â€œNot too hot for you?” Clay asked when Bobby bit into the chicken curry.
    Bobby’s face was red. “It’s a little spicy,” he said. But that didn’t stop him from asking for seconds.
    I passed on the seconds.
    â€œThis yogurt sauce has a cooling effect,” Clay said, passing it to Bobby.
    â€œI don’t need yogurt. I need a fire truck,” I said.
    Bobby laughed.
    â€œIf you guys will excuse me, I think I’ll go catch the news,” Clay said after we’d helped him clear the plates.
    Bobby turned to me after Clay left the room. “He doesn’t seem like