Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do sir,” the elder Hardy began. He’d been thinking about this since the night before, as he’d lain in bed watching the shadows on the ceiling and replaying the view of his brother’s protruding spine over and over, biting his lip as if it would keep back the light tears that stung his eyes. “But you have to admit, my brother is getting too thin. I think he’s taking this too far.”

“I agree.”

Frank was startled. “You do?”

The Coach nodded gravely. “It would be a bit unprofessional of me to reveal the weights I’ve taken on your brother, but yes, I believe he’s lost a little too much. I recommended that he drink protein shakes in addition to meals, and cut back on the some of the exercise. No use on him passing out on us…”

“You…” the elder Hardy’s mind was reeling.

Coach said a few more pounds…

“You feel differently?”

“No…sir, he’s been telling me that you insisted he keep losing weight. That you wanted to drop him two categories.”

The elder man frowned and leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk.

“Not at all. I’ve been weighing him fairly regularly, marking how much he’s lost, and when I saw it was too much too fast I showed him a chart of healthy weights and gave him nutrition advisement.”

“But you’ve still let him participate.”

“I see no reason not to let him.”

“Because he’s making himself sick!”

“Has he said that?”

“He doesn’t have to say it, you can see it. He’s dizzy—“

“Dizzy?”

“Yeah. Not just a little; I mean, enough that he has to lie down. And nothing seems to help. And he’s not dehydrated. He drinks a ridiculous amount of water—“

“Water loading,” the Coach said, almost to himself.

“What?”

“Water loading. When you fill yourself up with water so you won’t be hungry.”

Frank’s heart picked up speed; he felt sweat crease the palms of his hands. “You mean, there’s a name for it?”

“It’s not uncommon among people with…eating issues.” The Coach glanced at the clock and sighed. “You’ll be late for homeroom.”

“Sir…”

“Joe has gym second period, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll ask his teacher if I can speak with him. Put him on the scale, talk to him again.”

“And if he doesn’t listen?”

Mr. Finley sighed.

“He’s off the team. I’m not about to watch a nice young man ruin his health.”

Frank felt almost weak with relief. He stood and shook the Coach’s hand, hard.

“Thank you,” he murmured, “thanks so much.”

“Don’t worry,” the man said with a smile, and Frank felt some of the tension leaving him, “we’ll get him back on track.”

Frank had just finished his lunch when a fist slammed down beside him so hard people grabbed at their trays. Before he could look to see who it was a hand clamped down on his shoulder and his brother’s voice hissed in his ear

“We need to talk.”

Vanessa, Callie, Chet, Biff, and Tony looked from Frank to Joe, who was red faced and clearly seething.

“We do,” Frank countered, unfazed.

“Now.”

The elder Hardy nodded, told his friends he’d see them later, and followed his younger brother into the hall.

“What the hell were you thinking talking to my Coach!” Joe erupted as the cafeteria door swung shut behind him.

“I’m thinking that you are getting yourself into a hell of a lot of trouble with this obsession with your weight. Joe, you are too thin. Have you looked at yourself with your shirt off? Have you—“

“Shutup Frank. Shut the hell up. I don’t care if I look like a concentration camp victim--“

“Well I do!”

“—that doesn’t give you an excuse to go behind my back and what, check up on me? Tell on me? Are we second graders now? You ratted me out to Mom and Dad and now you have to tell everyone else? Who else have you lied to, huh? Vanessa, Callie—“

“Who have I lied to?” Frank snapped, suddenly furious. “You’re the liar! You’ve been lying to me since the day you found out you had to lose some weight! You know what your Coach told me? That you had to lose ten pounds, Joe, and that when you did at the end of that first month he told you you could stop. You didn’t, and you lied about it, to him, to me, to Mom and Dad and Vanessa and all our friends. You lie about food, how much you eat, when you eat, what you had, you mocked me behind my back so people would think I was being overprotective when you were the one who—“

Joe shoved his brother, hard, knocking him back into the Cafeteria doors. “So what? The only reason I had to lie is because all of you want me a certain way, and if I’m not willing to be that way you can’t take it. I’m taking care of myself, just not the way you want, and you can’t stand that! You always have to be right, be in control and the second you’re not, the second I do something you don’t approve up then you think I’m freakin’ crazy, that I need to you rat me out and make me look like a moron in front of everyone! If you cared about me—“

“If?” Frank was shouting now, his fury quickly rising to match his brothers, “what, do you think I’m doing this out of spite? Do you think I resent you or something? That I want to embarrass or expose you? Joe, I’m scared, do you understand that? I’m scared because you’re sick. I’m scared because your clothes don’t fit, and you’re dizzy, and you’re lying to everyone, and because I see your spine! That’s not normal. I’m so scared that I’m willing to go to anyone, to say anything, to get you to believe me, and to get other people to help me get you to see that you need help—“

“So you’ll even lie?” Joe snapped, his eyes narrowed. Frank didn’t answer; instead, he grabbed his brother by a slender arm and yanked him almost roughly down the hallway. “What the hell are you doing?”

Frank didn’t answer, just pulled brother, struggling and cursing, down the hall to the men’s room, where he slammed open the door and shoved his brother in front of the full length mirror, positioning himself behind his younger brother.

“Look at yourself!” he shouted, shaking Joe, his hands digging into his bony shoulder blades.

“I know what I look like.”

“In relation to me?”

“I—“ Joe turned. Frank felt him start, felt some of the confidence fade out of his back. Where once Joe would have been slightly larger than his brother, he now looked shrunken compared to Frank: his older brother’s body was outlined, clearly, behind his own.

For a moment, the two brothers looked at Joe’s reflection in silence. Then, slowly, Frank released Joe and turned him around.

“Do you see why I’m scared?” he asked softly. “I care about you, brother. You know that. I don’t believe for a second that you doubt that. There’s only one time that I may act in some ways that may seem irrational, and that’s when you or someone else I care about is concerned. I’ll help you, Joe, we all will. It’ll be okay…”

The younger Hardy’s expression was unreadable. He crossed his arms in front of him and seemed to be trembling, biting his lip and avoiding his brother’s gaze.

“I…I need…I have to think…” he finally stammered, making his way to the door. Frank quickly followed.

“Joe, come on, come talk to me. We’ll go sit somewhere and talk. I’m not mad, okay?”

“I am,” the younger Hardy murmured. “I don’t think I can talk to you right now. I just…please, let me think. We’ll talk later. We’ll talk tonight. Please, Frank, let’s just talk tonight?”

The elder Hardy frowned, caught up with his brother and touched his slumped shoulder.

“Why don’t you meet me after school.”

“I have practice—“

“You can’t go to practice. You’re not strong enough—“

Joe shut his eyes and set his jaw.

“Frank, you need to leave.”

“I can’t just…”

“Please. If you don’t want to fight, you need to leave me. I can’t talk to you right now.”

Frank nodded, understanding; he knew when his brother was angry and confused that he needed time to cool down, to be alone and sort it out: without his older brother’s help.

“We will talk tonight.”

Joe just nodded and made his way down the hall, as Frank stood watching.

Don’t you see? he wanted to shout after him, I’m not the one that leaves.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.