“Don’t worry, Cam,” Bex whispered. “It’s not that different from when we broke into Josh’s house.” I crouched at the air vent that would take us into the boys’ rooms and reached for the tiny bottle of hair spray that I keep for emergencies (just not of the hair variety) and sprayed the area around the grate. A grid of tiny motion detectors flickered in the fumes. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Just like Josh’s.”
