LITTLE BOY LOST
by
Phoenix
Chapter 5
The Chapters
Seven year old Frank Hardy lay in his bed and fingered the small black car his brother had left with him for company. Outside a rain storm pattered droplets against his window as the dark sky kept his room comfortably dim. He sighed and rolled on his back, leaving the toy cradled safely in his loosely fisted hand. His brother would kill him if he lost that car.
Frank looked up at the ceiling and sighed again. Now that the worst of the stomach pain had passed, he was left feeling lethargic and hungry, but he was too afraid to eat anything yet.
Closing his eyes he shifted onto his side and listened to the sounds of his mother moving around his brother’s room. She was making Joe’s bed.
The little boy opened his eyes and sat up. Slowly pushing the covers off his pajama-clad legs, he slid out of the bed and padded across the floor and into the bathroom. He grimaced as he saw the mess his brother had made with the toothbrush but decided against trying to clean it up – he was still sick, after all.
Pushing open the door to Joe’s room, Frank stood in the doorway and watched his mom as she leaned over the twin bed and fixed the comforter.
“Hey sweetie,” Laura smiled as she glanced over her shoulder towards him. “Feeling any better?”
Frank nodded quietly and slipped into the room.
“Can I get up now?” he asked, not wanting to be by himself. It was funny how lonely the house felt whenever Joe wasn’t home.
“Are you sure?” His mother straightened up. Her pretty face was marred with concern. “You’re still kind of pale, honey.”
The dark haired boy shrugged one shoulder. He glanced back at his room. “I don’t want to sleep no more.”
“Okay then,” the blond woman smiled and held out her hand, “why don’t you come downstairs with me? You can stretch out on the couch while I fold laundry.”
Frank nodded, flashed a smile and took her hand. Together they walked down the stairs. A flash of lightning lit the living room and the little boy paused at the bottom of the steps. “Joey doesn’t like the storms,” he reminded his mother.
“Good thing he’s safe and warm inside the school now, isn’t it?” his mother assured him as she gently nudged him towards the couch.
The little boy climbed onto the furniture and settled himself down against the plush pillows. Laura arranged a soft blanket over his legs and then gave him a gentle look. “You miss your brother, don’t you?”
“Everything just seems so…” the child paused as he thought up the right word. “Quiet?”
Laura laughed. It was a musical sound. “That is one way to put it—” she gave him a curious look. “You don’t have any idea where your brother’s jacket is, do you?”
Frank pursed his lips together in thoughtful consideration. He carefully thought about the previous day and then nodded. “In the basement.”
“The basement?” His mother sounded surprised and then she gave him a wary look. “Do I really want to know why?” The basement was where the washing machine was…
“Probably not,” he admitted somberly.
“Humor me,” Laura prompted, though Frank didn’t think she sounded like she wanted a funny story. He opted for the truth.
“Biff needed five worms—”
“Excuse me?” his mother interrupted. “Biff needed five worms?”
“Yes,” Frank nodded. “I told him three would work just as well but he never listened.”
“Why would he need worms to begin with?”
The child sighed and realized he might need to start from the beginning. “See here’s the thing—”
“Well hello there! How’s my sick little man?” Frank’s father asked as he walked into the living room from the kitchen and noticed the child spread out on the couch. “Stomach feeling better?”
“Much.” Frank admitted and tried to get back to his story. “Biff found out that—”
“Laura, I’m sorry Frank,” Fenton apologized as he interrupted again. The dark haired boy scowled and crossed his arms. “But I have some wonderful news!” He ushered Laura onto the couch by Frank’s feet and then beamed at them both. “You are looking at the new official head of security for the Bayport leg of Congressman Harper’s campaign! I just got off the phone with the Congressman himself! Wow. This is big!” Frank found it hard to stay angry at his father when the man had this big goofy looking smile on his face – although he really wasn’t one hundred percent sure why….His father’s new job didn’t sound too exciting to him.
His mother didn’t seem to agree though, and was off the couch and had her arms wrapped around his father’s neck, hugging him. “Oh Fenton!” she gushed, “That is wonderful!”
She gave him a huge kiss.
Frank screwed up his face and rolled his eyes. He hated the mushy stuff. His parents must have noticed because they both laughed and his father reached over and mussed up his hair. “What do you say, big guy?” the man asked, “You proud of your old man?”
“I don’t know,” Frank admitted, weighing ‘head of security’ for some congressman (whatever that was) against ‘ace detective,’ catcher of bad guys. However, he was smart enough to realize that sometimes people did not want to hear the truth so he smiled and told his father what he wanted to hear: “That’s great, Dad.”
And his father saw right through him…
Fenton laughed a hearty laugh. “Who are we kidding, huh, Ace? It is a good job but it doesn’t have the same ring as ‘catcher of bad guys’, does it?”
Frank’s jaw dropped open – how did his father know?
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Frank’s mother refuted as she stood next to his father and slipped an arm around his waist. She smiled up at the man. “What is the old saying? You can take the politics out of the crook…but you can’t take the crook out of the politicians…”
The little boy had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.
“Now Frank, what were you saying?” his father encouraged, his dark brown eyes fully focused on the child.
“I was just trying to tell Mom why Joey’s coat is all full of mud,” Frank recounted.
“Mud?” Laura’s arm dropped from around Fenton’s waist and she hurried towards the basement door. “I’d better get the jacket into the washing machine before it cakes on! Fenton, honey, can you get some toast for Frank? He’s got to be starving by now and I don’t want to give him anything too heavy!”
“Toast, huh?” his father’s voice pulled Frank’s attention from his retreating mother. “I think I can manage toast.”
The child eyed the man. “Joey said you let him have two bowls of cereal.”
“Yeah, well Joey’s a tattle tale,” his father teased and then added. “You want to come to the kitchen or shall I serve it here?”
“Kitchen,” Frank decided without even thinking. It wasn’t often he got to see his father exercise his culinary – or rather lack of culinary – skills. “I want to see you cook.”
Fenton snorted softly and shook his head as he headed towards the kitchen. “The lack of confidence this family has in my basic life skills is disturbing. I can make toast.”
“Yes,” Frank admitted. “But can you make it like Mom does?”
His father’s steps faltered for a moment and then the man straightened his shoulders and bravely continued on his way.
Grinning, Frank followed. This should be good…
‘Wait ‘til I tell Joey,’ he thought to himself. ‘He’s going to be so jealous when he finds out everything he missed out on…!’
Ten minutes later the smoke detector indicated that the toast was ‘done’.
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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.