THINNER
by
Antigone
Chapter 21
The Chapters
“Gangs
of
“Hey, Leo’s in it. And it got good reviews.”
Frank shook his head, hanging his car keys on the hook as he and
his girlfriend started for the family room.
“Go ahead and stick it in. I’m going to run to the
bathroom,” Callie said.
“All right.”
Frank pulled the DVD from its case and set the player up, grateful
that his parents had gone out. A night with Callie was just what he
needed to rejuvenate; and to get his mind off Joe.
Frank sighed. At least Joe had eaten a bowl of soup tonight. But
that was probably all he’d eaten today.
“Frank. The toilet’s clogged.”
Frank turned to see Callie in the doorway.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t even use it.”
“It’s been doing that a lot lately. Just go use the one
upstairs. I’ll try plunging it.”
“Okay.”
Callie disappeared through the living room while Frank went to get
the plunger. What was going on with the plumbing? Maybe there were roots.
Or maybe—
The realization stopped him dead.
Vomit. Vomit clogs toilets.
Joe…
Callie screamed. And kept screaming.
“Frank! Oh my God! Frank!”
The elder Hardy took the stairs two at a time, colliding with his
terrified girlfriend in the hallway.
“Frank! Frank!”
“I’m here,” he soothed. “
“Joe,” she sobbed, pointing toward the bathroom, her hand over
her mouth. Frank’s heart dropped, and he gently pushed past his
girlfriend and rushed through his bedroom to the bathroom the brothers
shared.
Bile rose to this throat, and he doubled over, fighting it down.
There on the floor lay Joe, blood splattered on his loose white t-shirt,
the toilet filled with red vomit. Frank spotted the bottle and knew
before he even picked it up what it would be.
“Ipecac,” he gasped, his heart thundering in his ears. Ipecac.
Can cause a heart attack. After only one use…
“Callie!” he screamed. “Run downstairs and call an
ambulance! Now!”
He heard her footsteps on the stairs as she ran for the kitchen.
Forcing himself to calm down, Frank turned his brother on his back and
checked his pulse. Steady. He wasn’t having a heart attack.
“Joe,” he murmured, reaching for a washcloth that he dampened
with cool water in the sink. “Joe, can you hear me? Come on, buddy.
Wake up for me.”
Joe let out a deep, agonizing moan and turned back on his side
coughing once, twice, more blood, darker than what floated in the toilet
water.
“Hang on. Help’s coming. Does your chest hurt?”
His younger brother only groaned again. Frank gently helped him
sit up, taking his brother’s weight against his shoulder fighting the
urge to vomit himself as he stared at the mixture in the toilet.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
The raspy whisper startled Frank so much he jumped, jerking his
brother’s head. Joe gasped and coughed, spitting up more blood.
“Oh, yes you do.”
“I’m fine…I will be, I just got sick after dinner…”
Frank drew in a sharp breath as he realized what his brother was
doing: trying to cover for himself, knowing that they’d find out he’d
just added bulimia to his list of growing symptoms.
“Shutup, Joe. Just shutup. Shutup before I kill you myself.”
“But Frank…”
“Don’t! I saw the bottle Joe! Ipecac! Do you know that that
can give you a heart attack after one use? Do you know that you could
have died tonight? That you may still—because I don’t know what that
crap’s done to your body, because I bet this wasn’t the first time,
was it? That bottle’s not full, and the downstairs toilet’s clogged.
I bet if we opened those pipes we’d find your vomit in them. So just
shutup and be grateful that you’re here for me to tell off.”
Joe leaned tiredly against his brother. “Please…”
“I’m done with listening to you,” the elder Hardy hissed,
his fingers digging in to his brother’s shoulder. “You’re sick,
Joe. You need help. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get you
to realize that, but I’ve had enough with letting this go. You’re
going. I’m going with you, but you’re going. And you’re staying
until you gain some weight—“
The younger Hardy moaned and twisted away, struggling to get to
his feet. Frank seized his arm and pulled him back to the floor.
“Where are you going?” the elder Hardy asked angrily.
Joe started to argue, coughed again, drew a trembling hand away
from his mouth and saw the red on his palm, bit his lip, his eyes
suddenly filling.
“Frank…” Joe couldn’t seem to decide what he wanted to
say, didn’t try, just looked at his equally confused and frustrated
brother, an uncustomary silence filling the room, a silence that remained
until the paramedics, lead by Callie, came up the stairs, a silence that
reminded the brothers of the rift, ever widening, between them.
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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.