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know what I was thinking — here it is. I was thinking how I screwed up at basketball today. I was thinking how I didn’t want to go home and find you lounging on the couch or destroying our house. I was thinking how I wished I livedsomeplace else — anywhere else — as long as you weren’t there.”
    I stopped to catch my breath. It was the most I’d ever said to Clay in all the time I’d known him.
    I was a little surprised when he pulled the car over to the side of the road. When he turned to face me, I had this overwhelming urge to jump out right then and there. Then he leaned over and put his hand over mine. I flinched. Clay must’ve noticed because he backed right off.
    â€œListen to me, Josh,” he said. “This isn’t what anyone would call an ideal situation. You’re stuck with me — and I’m stuck with you, and there’s very little either of us can do about it. The one thing we have in common is that we both love your mom.”
    I flinched again. My mom would have a bird when she found out what I’d done. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?” I asked quietly. I slid my fingers along the door handle while I waited for Clay to say something.
    But all he said was, “Get your hand off the door handle.”
    When the phone rang, I rushed to answer it. Clay got to it before me. I knew it would be Mom. She’d phoned every night at exactly seven o’clock.
    The conversation started with Clay asking about Gramps. They were going to release him from hospital in a couple more days. From what I could tell, Mom was having more trouble dealing with Gramma. She wouldn’t leave Gramps’ bedside even when it was time for visitors to go home.
    My heart started pounding when the conversation switched to how things were going at home. Mom would freak out when she heard about my run-in with the police — and she’s not a lot of fun when she freaks out. She’s also the type who believes in punishments. I wondered what she’d make me do when she found out. I had a feeling docking my allowance wouldn’t satisfy her. She’d come up with something crueler. Something that would involve Clay.
    I kept waiting for him to bring up what had happened. Only he didn’t. “I’ll put him on,” Clay said, passing me the phone afterhe’d been on for nearly ten minutes. “Then you can ask him yourself.”
    I took the receiver from his hands. “How are you doing, Mom? How’s Gramps?” I was hoping she wouldn’t be able to tell from my voice that something was wrong. She’s like a blood- hound when it comes to sniffing out trouble.
    â€œThings are under control here, honey,” she said. Mom sounded tired, but not suspicious. I relaxed a little. “I just wanted to know how you and Clay are getting on,” she said. “Are you two finally bonding?”
    I looked at Clay. He’d put on the maroon housecoat when we got home from the police station. His fingers were stained with red and blue paint. “Yeah, I guess you could say we’re … bonding.” The words stuck in my throat. But it was only when Clay started smiling — this huge, goofy smile — that I really regretted saying them.
    There was one more thing I didn’t really feel like saying, only I knew I had to.
    â€œThanks,” I told Clay after dinner. We were standing at the sink; he was washing, Iwas drying. “For not mentioning anything to Mom about … you know.”
    He passed me a pot, then lifted his chin toward the living room window. “See what I see?”
    A police cruiser was driving by. It slowed down as it passed our house. I thought about Patsy and the puzzled look she’d given me when she’d spotted me earlier that day.
    â€œIt’s not the first cop car that’s driven by tonight,” Clay said. “I think they’re trailing you.