DISSONANCE
by
Duckling
Chapter 19
The Chapters
Bix sprawled comfortably on the bed in the Hoopers’ guest bedroom. It had seemed only natural that Biff should offer that Bix stay at his home while the Hardys stayed with Joe. The two boys had returned to Biff’s house in the wee hours of the morning to catch a bit of sleep before heading back into the city for another long day of waiting. A tentative knock sounded on the open door. Bix swiveled his head to see Biff framed in the doorway and smiled a welcome. The other boy had apparently just gotten up, his blond hair disheveled and sticking up in places.
“Morning,” Bix called out cheerfully.
“You look comfortable,” Biff muttered as he perched on the corner of the bed.
“Thank you,” Bix replied, “I am. Sleep well?”
Biff sighed as he gently massaged his neck muscles. “Not really,” he admitted after a minute. “I keep thinking about the others.”
Seeing the blank look on Bix’ face, Biff clarified: “I mean the gang. Our other friends. Joe’s girlfriend, for example. Before Frank left we were a pretty tight group. Now, well, now we’re even closer. They’ll want to know about Joe.”
“So what’s keeping you from telling them?” Bix asked, still slightly puzzled, as he struggled into a sitting position.
“Frank.” Biff responded succinctly. “Or rather, Frank’s presence. I don’t know how that will go over. He pretty much just walked out on us; away from a lifetime of friendships.”
“Oh,” said Bix. “I see. They may not be happy to see him waltz back into town after deliberately walking out on you all.”
“Exactly.”
“But that isn’t the only thing bothering you, is it?” the dark-haired boy asked softly.
“No,” Biff answered morosely. “He’s going to take Joe with him. I know it’s in Joe’s best interests, but I don’t want him to go. Joe’s my best friend; no, more than that. He’s the kid brother I never had. And I don’t want to lose him.”
Bix heart went out to Biff; he knew the pain of losing a brother.
“Well,” Bix said after a few moments of silence. “I think you should tell your friends. They have a right to know. Frank must have known when he left that he would have to face them again.”
Biff nodded his head as he listened to his friend.
“And if you’re concerned that Frank may turn on you for telling the others, don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with him.”
Biff regarded the other boy for a minute. Finally, he said simply, “I’m glad Frank has you for a friend.”
Bix smiled as he answered Biff’s unspoken comment: “I’m glad I have you as a friend, too.”
Suddenly Biff leapt up from the bed, smacking his head with his hand. “Oh, man,” he moaned.
“What?” asked a very concerned Bix.
“It’s Monday, man. I totally forgot about school.” Biff glanced at the clock: he had already missed his first class.
“Well,” Bix laughed, relieved. “Get a move on it. I can always go back into the City myself.”
At that moment, Mrs. Hooper strode down the hall. She had just caught the tail end of Biff’s cry of dismay and was doing her best not to laugh.
“Biff, dear,” she said brightly, “You don’t have school today, remember? It’s a teacher work day. And do you seriously think I would let you miss class, young man?”
Bix suppressed the laughter that was bubbling up inside as Biff, red-faced, muttered something unintelligible.
“Right,” Bix said, once he had regained sufficient poise to speak, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
***
The gang had agreed to meet at the Mortons’ farmhouse. As Biff drove out to the farm, Bix turned to him.
“Perhaps you should call me Brian around your friends,” he stated seriously.
“How do I explain how I know you?”
“Tell them the truth. You met me when Frank came back home. He was in no state to drive; it only makes sense that he would have someone drive for him.”
“Are you always like this?” The question came out before Biff could stop it.
“Like what?” Bix asked, his head tilted in puzzlement.
“Are you always planning how to act, what to say? I mean, you sound an awful lot like Frank does after a case, when he and Joe are agreeing on how much they should disclose to their mom. I’ve helped out on some of those, and I can guarantee you that the version their mother gets is not quite what actually happened.”
Bix smiled. “Well, I never realized I do that, but I guess I must. Maybe it’s because Brad and I were always getting into things that we had no business getting into, and explanations were always expected of us. Brad was the one who realized that you could tell the truth without disclosing the . . . er . . . more objectionable points.” Bix’s eyes had lit up at the memory, Biff noted. Now, the pale-gold eyes were sad.
“Brad was my twin brother,” Bix explained quietly.
“Oh,” exclaimed Biff. “I’m so sorry.” For a moment neither spoke. Then, as the car turned off the road and into the lane leading up to the Mortons’ house, Biff announced quietly, “Looks like everyone’s here.”
Bix glanced through the window to see two cars pulled up in front of a white, sprawling farmhouse. A group of young people sat on the front porch, either gently rocking in the swing or perched on the front steps. They all seemed to be watching as Biff and Bix drove up.
The boys got out and approached the gathered group slowly. Bix took the time to survey the expectant faces. A tall, olive-skinned boy with warm but concerned eyes nodded his head in greeting. Beside him, perched on the top step sat another boy, stout and muscular with a thatch of reddish-blond hair and a round face. This boy glanced from Biff to Bix before nodding his greeting. Sitting in the swing was a beautiful blonde girl and a sandy-haired boy. Standing before the screen-door was a bright-eyed raven beauty who called out as the boys approached: “Where’s Joe?” And then, catching sight of Bix, “Hi.”
The newcomers stopped at the foot of the porch steps and looked up at the gang. Biff looked down, suddenly unable to meet his friends’ eyes, and Bix was surprised to note the group’s reaction. That simple gesture had clued Biff’s friends in to the fact that bad news was coming. The stout boy stood up and crossed over to the dark-haired girl, pulling her protectively close. The boy on the swing laid a gentle hand on the blonde’s shoulders. The dark-skinned boy stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. Not a word was spoken as everyone waited for Biff to speak.
Biff threw a miserable glance at Bix. The other boy nodded his head in encouragement, and Biff drew in a deep breath.
“Joe was kidnapped again last night.”
Bix could feel the current of worry, fear, and anxiety that charged through the little group. He noted, too, that Biff had said ‘kidnapped again.’ Just how often did things like this happen to the younger Hardy?
“They found him, he’s okay,” Biff continued gently. “Well, mostly okay,” he amended, then grimaced and wished he hadn’t as Iola visibly swayed. Chet led his sister to a spot on the swing recently vacated by Phil. Callie drew the other girl close to her and held her. Anxious eyes continued to watch Biff; everyone knew he had more to say.
“He had been stabbed, multiple times, and infection had set in by the time they got him to the hospital.”
“Is he really okay?” Tony asked, concern thick in his voice.
“Yes,” Biff asserted. “They found him in time.”
“But just barely, right?” Callie spoke up. “And Frank is with him, isn’t he? That’s what you’ve come to say. That Joe is hurt, seriously hurt, and that if we want to see him, we have to realize Frank will be there too.”
Biff looked up into Callie’s eyes and nodded his head. “I didn’t know what to do. I knew you would want to know about Joe, but I didn’t know if you would want to see Frank since he is here too.”
“It’s not your fault, Biff,” Tony answered kindly. “How did you find out? And who is your friend?”
“This is Brian,” Biff paused somewhat uncertain as to how proceed.
Bix smiled at the gang as he answered for Biff. “I drove Frank back to Bayport; he was in no state to drive.”
Instant comprehension flickered across the silent, watchful faces: this was a friend of Frank’s – this was a replacement for them in Frank’s new life.
“Before we go any further,” Chet declared suddenly, “I vote we move into the living room. There are enough chairs in there to seat everyone more comfortably.”
Agreeing with Chet’s reasoning, the group trudged into the house.
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.