Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

“…so I’m too big for my category now,” Joe told a frowning Vanessa when she’d asked him why he’d only had a sandwich for lunch. “So I have to watch what I eat for awhile.”

His girlfriend shook her head. “You men and your sports. If the track coach told me to lose weight I’d spit in his face and quit.”

Joe laughed, knowing full well that it was true.

“Well, I want to stay on the team. Besides, losing five or ten pounds won’t hurt. It’ll give me an edge over the next crooks we chase.”

His girlfriend laughed. “Criminals do tend to eat too much, huh? Does your Dad have any cases for you?”

“Not right now. But I’m not worried. I mean, trouble just seems to find us.”

“Don’t I know it,” Vanessa stopped at her locker as the bell signaling the end of lunch sounded. “They oughta have warnings on each of you Hardy’s. ‘Warning: dating a Hardy will lead to early graying of hair. Long term benefits: extremely high tolerance for terror, concern, and all around anxiety.”

“Haha,” Joe rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

“Aw, you know I love you,” she grinned, playfully brushing his hair off his forehead. He returned the favor, then stopped and pretended to frown.

“What’s this? Gray? No…white! What do you know, Van, you’ll be bald by your twentieth birthday…”

“Haha,” Vanessa mimicked her boyfriend’s sarcastic chuckle. “Get a move on, Hardy. You’ll be late.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later, right? Remember, we have a date.”

“Do I ever forget?” she smiled. “Take care my big, strong man.”

Joe, who had begun to turn and walk off, suddenly froze and spun slowly around.

“Big?” he snapped, “what the hell does that mean?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Nothing. I mean…it’s a complement. You know, strong.”

Joe sighed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, turning to go. Vanessa caught his arm.

“Hey, Joe, are you all right? I really didn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sorry, Van.”

She frowned. “This thing the coach said is really getting to you, isn’t it?”

“No. I’m all right, really.”

“It’s just a few pounds, Joe. Don’t worry yourself to death about it.”

“I know,” he sighed, suddenly tired. The words just didn’t register.

Vanessa patted her boyfriend’s slouched shoulder. “Just relax, baby. We’ll have fun after practice. Mr. Pizza, remember?”

“I remember,” he mumbled.

“Well, take care, and I’ll see you there.”

Joe drew a deep breath and kissed her on the cheek. “Okay.”

“If only I’d known,” she’d say later. “I should have seen it. I should have known better.”

She watched as he walked away.

“What do you all want?” Tony Prito asked the group.

Vanessa looked around. “Two large pizzas?”

“Sure,” Chet said eagerly. Joe shook his head.

“I’d better get a salad. Without dressing.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Want a roll with that?”

Joe shrugged. Tony made a note and walked toward the kitchen as the group dissolved into chatter.

Callie smiled at Joe. “You’re doing really well. Do you feel good?”

The younger Hardy made a face. “I want to go buy out McDonald’s.”

She laughed. “We’ll do just that, once you’ve lost the weight.”

“Coach Finely’s a real bastard,” Phil jumped in. “You wouldn’t believe how hard he works us.”

“He’s a good guy,” Chet insisted. “Just a little intense, that’s all.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Joe mumbled, glancing away toward the storefront outside.

“Frank, what colleges are you thinking about?” Vanessa quickly changed the subject, her eyes worriedly on her moody boyfriend.

“Duke, Columbia , NYU, Boston University , Syracuse , University of Pennsylvania and University of Virginia .”

“All out of state, huh?”

“He wants to get as far away from me as possible,” Joe kidded a little too seriously. Frank tried to meet his brother’s eyes, but the younger Hardy looked hastily away. There was an awkward pause, but everyone thought the same thing: Joe just wasn’t being himself.

“Food’s here,” Chet said, happily breaking the silence.

“That was fast, Prito,” Phil said with a grin.

“Yeah, well, the kitchen works faster when the owner’s son tells it to,” Tony said with a grin, setting Joe’s salad down.

“Nothing like a good bowl of lettuce,” Joe moaned, eyeing the pizza.

“Poor baby,” Vanessa grinned, patting his hand.

“Couldn’t you just have one slice?” Frank asked carefully. Joe raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a diet Frank.”

“One slice is a diet.”

Joe shook his head and stabbed hungrily at the vegetables before him, refusing to look his brother in the eye.

Something nervously nagged at Frank: a feeling of apprehension, of something looming. The college comment still rung in his ears.

He could have just been joking, and his mood made it seem too serious. That had to be it. He helped me research schools, he would have said something if the distance bothered him.

Wouldn’t he?

Watching his brother eat without so much as looking around the table, Frank began to wonder just how much Joe kept from him.

And felt a flicker of fear begin.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Frank asked as Joe headed upstairs.

“A little,” Joe lied. His stomach was screaming at him. He ignored it.

Just a few pounds. Just a few weeks.

“You should have something else then. An apple or something.”

“Nah. I’m okay.”

Frank followed his brother down the hall toward their bedrooms, knowing he had to ask and half-dreading the answer.

If he says he wants me to stay, will I? Would I give up a shot at an Ivy just for him?

Probably.

But I’d resent it…

“Phil’s right about Coach Finley,” Joe said suddenly.

“What do you mean? That he’s a jerk?”

“I believe the correct term is ‘bastard’.”

Frank grinned. “He really works you, huh?”

“Definitely.”

Then why were you so bothered by Phil’s comment earlier?

The elder Hardy sighed. For as well as he knew his brother, Joe could be a total mystery to him sometimes.

“Is the weight thing really bugging you?”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Not really. It’s only a couple pounds.”

“Just take it easy. They’re not that important.”

“I know, Frank.”

His brother opened the door to his room, and Frank knew he had to bring it up now before he lost his nerve.

“Hey Joe?”

The younger Hardy turned halfway through his doorway.

“About college…are you okay with me going out of state?”

Joe frowned. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure? Because I wouldn’t mind staying here for a year, if you wanted me to.”

“Wouldn’t that be selfish of me,” he snapped, turning away.

“Not at all. I mean, it’ll be an adjustment for me too, not working on cases for awhile. But if you want…”

“No. I’m okay, Frank. Really.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

“Sure.”

Frank wasn’t convinced, but he patted his brother’s shoulder and headed into his own room.

Joe watched him go, feeling a little queasy. Two lies to his brother in five minutes.

He had no idea how good at lying he was about to become.

“Joseph Hardy? On a diet?”

Joe rolled his eyes at his Aunt Gertrude’s shock and forked another cherry tomato in the bowl before him. He’d always gotten a kick out of his Aunt—although she had a bad habit of being too blunt—but had known that this visit she’d be giving him hell for his new eating habits.

“Are you doing this just to spite me?” the elderly woman ranted on. “I come to stay for a week and you fear my cooking? Well, I’m sorry, but your poor mother deserves a break from the responsibilities of the kitchen. But there’s no reason why you need to go running from food the second I show up on the doorstep—”

“Aunt Gertrude! It wasn’t my choice. It’s for wrestling. Don’t worry, by the time you visit us again I’ll be eating normally.”

“Well I should certainly hope so. It’s no good, having young men in perfectly good shape walking around eating salads all day. Especially someone like you.”

Joe grinned. “Why someone like me?”

“Well, you don’t have much else going for you. Besides your strength, I mean. And your looks, I suppose.”

The younger Hardy dropped his fork, stunned. “What?”

“I’m just saying, dear. You know—you and Frank are a classic example of brawn and brain. And you’re the brawn. So you don’t want to lose too much of that strength.”

“But—” Joe was too stunned to respond. His Aunt had always been blunt, but she’d never been outright cruel.

What is she talking about? Frank and I are well-rounded, both of us; he’s smart but strong and I’m strong but smart. Right? I mean, Frank’s always been a little smarter…okay, I guess a lot smarter, but we just think differently. He’s more logical. He sums up situations better. But I think of new angles…

Suddenly, violently, Joe felt sick.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” he mumbled, shoving his salad bowl away and heading out of the kitchen.

“Joseph! You barely touched your lunch.”

“I’ll finish it later,” he called, disappearing upstairs. He hesitated outside Frank’s door—it was shut, and he heard music playing from his stereo. He imagined Frank leaning over his keyboard, typing away on a report that wasn’t due until Monday, or with his books spread out over his desk, diligently studying.

Maybe I should interrupt him; drag him out to a movie or something. Then I might feel better.

But then again, his work ethic is one of the things that makes him better than me.

Joe started to knock on the door, than lowered his hand and walked away, shutting the door to his room.

Brawn and brain, he thought, slumping on to his bed. But if that’s all I am, than why does he hang out with me? Frank cares about me, probably more than anyone. He’s saved my life more times than I can count. But I’ve saved his too. We’re partners; because we’re equals. We balance each other. That’s the truth.

Right?

Joe picked up his pillow and hugged it to his chest. He still felt sick, although his stomach was pretty close to empty.

If that’s all I am, than why doesn’t Frank just ditch me? He could go off and be a detective on his own—I don’t doubt that. He’d be a brilliant detective, a great detective. He just needs to think out loud sometimes, and that’s where I come in.

Realization hit him like a blow to the head: what if that’s why Frank wants to go away to school?

No! he scolded himself. Frank would never do that. He would never ditch you. He’s loyal. He’s the most loyal person you know. Don’t talk like that, Joe. Give your brother some more credit. He asked you if you were okay with it. He offered to stay with you.

But if you did…if you lost that strength, would he still need you? What are you, underneath a handsome face and body? Anything?

Joe shuddered; it was as if another voice had entered his head. Part of him wanted to go into his older brother’s room and talk, be comforted by his presence, forget what his Aunt had said or even tell Frank and have a laugh about it. But as he rose to go he thought of how many times he’d gone to his brother with problems, how many times Frank had had to bail him out of trouble, and how little the elder Hardy came to him.

What am I?

Only one way to find out.

The younger Hardy quickly changed his clothes. He was going running. But before that, he’d take the salad out of the refrigerator and stuff it down the garbage disposal.

And tell everyone he’d finished it.

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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.