DISSONANCE
by
Duckling
Chapter 7
The Chapters
Monday seemed to stretch out forever for Joe, as he hustled from classroom to classroom through the narrow halls. The Hardys had informed the school authorities and word had quickly spread that Frank Hardy had run away. Joe and Callie were now the objects of the furtive stares and half-whispered speculations of their schoolmates. Phil, Iola and the rest of the gang served as a physical buffer between them and the other students whenever they could, glaring at the others coldly.
Tony and the others were waiting for Joe now in the lunchroom. The blond boy had been called out of his last class to the principal’s office for some reason or other and most people assumed that it had something to do with Frank. Callie sat dejectedly in her seat, picking at her cold French fries. Iola sat beside her, glowering at anyone foolish enough to openly gawk at her distressed friend. Biff alternated between scanning the entrances for some sign of Joe and shooting daggers at unfortunates who happened to meet his eyes. Chet sat quietly munching on his burger, but with rather less gusto than was usual for him. Phil was seated on the other side of Callie, and seemed to feel her sadness as keenly as if it were his own. Maybe it was, Tony mused. After all, second to Joe, Phil was Frank’s closest friend.
Suddenly, Callie looked up and said, “Who would have thought Joe could play the piano? I mean, aside from you two,” she added, nodding at the Mortons.
“That’s how he lets off steam,” Iola announced softly.
“Not Joe,” disagreed Biff. “I’ve seen him work off steam on the field or in the weight room. When Joe’s angry his reaction is physical.”
“But playing the piano is physical,” Iola countered. “It’s not pounding on a punching bag, but it is pounding on a keyboard.”
“Joe only sits and plays like that when his feelings go beyond mere physical exertion.” Chet added. “I first heard him play when Frank was so sick.”
The small group of friends looked solemnly at one another. Most of them knew of Frank’s childhood battle against leukemia and of Joe’s terror that he’d lose his brother.
“Actually,” Tony spoke up, “that had been concerning me. Joe’s lack of an emotional response, I mean.”
“But I guess he did respond,” suggested Phil. “I mean, that recital was phenomenal. My cousin’s a concert pianist and I’ve heard him perform in major concert halls. I don’t know much about technique myself, but Joe’s performance seemed to me flawless.”
“There definitely was a lot of emotion in it,” concurred Tony.
“Heads up,” Biff warned, “one blond Hardy at the side entrance.”
Iola looked around the table. “I didn’t realize that no one else knew. I mean, I know he never spoke about music when we all got together, but that hardly seemed surprising.”
Tony grinned slyly at Chet and teased, “Ah. Now we know what it was about that scoundrel that caught your fancy, it surely couldn’t have been his charm.”
“Or his looks,” added Chet.
Iola punched her brother lightly in the arm. “Hush, you oafs.”
“And why should we?” challenged her older brother.
“Because that dull, ugly scoundrel happens to be standing behind you, friend,” was Joe’s amused answer, as he dropped a hand lightly on Chet’s shoulder. Chet blushed three shades of crimson as the table erupted into laughter.
Joe eyed his friends with mock severity as he addressed Iola formally. “Miss, were these rapscallions causing you alarm?”
“Rapscallions,” Phil repeated, laughing.
“They sure were,” Iola cooed. “What are you going to do to them?”
Joe took his place beside Iola, leaned over and whispered in her ear. Her bright green eyes widened and sparkled happily.
“This doesn’t bode well for us,” announced Chet in mock apprehension.
“And I’m going to need your help,” Joe finished aloud, looking up at his friends with mischief in his bright blue eyes.
Tony smiled. It was good to see Joe so much more like his usual self.
“So,” Phil inquired slyly, winking at Tony, “Just what did you have in mind regarding the punishment these creeps deserve, and whose help do you need? Would you welcome any extra assistance?”
“Traitor,” screeched Chet in mock dismay, although he beamed at the sparkle in those sapphire eyes.
***
Frank officially began his life as Hank Hardin Monday morning. After administering various placement exams, the school officials were delighted to find they had a new prodigy. The dark-haired teen was ushered to his first class and proudly introduced by no less a personage than the principal. As he settled into his first class, he thought briefly of his brother. He missed Joe so much. But this was the way it had to be, and Joe would be joining him eventually. Of that he had no doubt. Suddenly aware of the teacher’s voice, Frank pushed thoughts of his brother aside and concentrated on the lecture.
At lunchtime, Frank found himself momentarily debating which of the empty, far tables he should choose for himself when he heard a bright cheerful voice at his elbow.
“You’re Hank Hardin, right?” a tall boy inquired pleasantly. “You’re in most of my classes. But you scurried away so quickly I hadn’t had a chance to catch up to you.”
Frank found himself smiling at the personable redhead; he was so incredibly like Joe, he even had the same athletic build and enviable good looks.
“I’m James Carter,” the boy added, “And I’d offer to shake hands, but yours look full. I was wondering if you’d care to join us at our table.” Nodding at a nearby table, he continued, “some of us may look a bit scary, but we’re all pretty harmless.”
“I’d love to, if you have room, that is,” Frank responded.
“Plenty of room for friends,” James stated simply and led Frank over to his waiting friends.
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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.