"Probably just tired from his first full day of high school," Callie remarked, putting her books down on the bleacher in front of her. "Why aren’t you on the team? Don’t you like football or any sports?"

"I love football. Backyard football that is. I was thinking of joining the cross country team with Phil, but the debate team will be taking up a lot of my time," Frank said with a smile. Callie sure is pretty. I must be one of the luckiest guys in Bayport. Strong, sassy and very…um…different from the other girls.

"I am just glad that you have time to take me to the dance and tutor me after school," Callie said, then she looked down at her watch. "Oh my! It is almost five! I have to get going. See you tomorrow?"

"You bet. Same place, same time," Frank grinned. With that, Callie waved and walked down from the set of bleachers and towards the back parking lot.

Frank then turned his attention to the field. Joe sure was moving sluggish. His passes were off and it did not seem like the same guy who learned most of his moves from his older brother in the backyard.

"I guess we will be practicing a little more on the weekends," Frank said to himself. Joe loved football and really wanted to make his mark as the starring quarterback someday. Knowing that he could do it, Frank aimed to help him every step of the way.

Practice was soon over and Frank headed towards the locker rooms to wait on Joe to change. Chet was the first to come out of the doors. He looked horrible. Nodding a hello to his good friend, Chet was trying his best to stand up and carry his pads and book bag. Frank rushed over and grabbed his book bag and followed him to his car.

"Practice that rough?" Frank asked with a grin.

"You could say that," Chet mumbled as he got the keys out to his jalopy. "I appreciate you helping me get this stuff to the car."

"No problem my friend," Frank said, noticing Joe walking towards them.

"Hey! There is the future quarterback for the Wildcats!" Frank called out, trying to cheer up the two boys. Then he noticed the huge red mark on the side of his brother’s face. "What on earth happened to you?"

Joe did not say anything at first as he unlocked the back of the station wagon and threw his things in the back.

"Nothing Frank," Joe said, walking up beside Chet.

"Nothing has a name, Steven Miller," Chet muttered.

"Is someone going to tell me what is going on?" Frank spoke up. He reached over and touched the side of his brother’s face. Joe winced in pain and drew back. But he remained silent.

Frank looked at Joe and then to Chet. "Look, I am sure that I can find out if one of you two will not tell me."

"Steven Miller hit him because he is going out with my sister," Chet spoke up. "Then they decided to clout me in the stomach. It is just one of those things that seniors do and we will make it."

"They have no right to hit you," Frank said angrily. Then he looked at Joe. "Are you going to speak to someone about this?"

"No. It will just make matters worse," Joe said looking down at the ground. " I will handle Steven tomorrow, my own way. You are going to stay out of it and promise not to say a word to anyone, especially mom and dad."

"Joe, that is not fair. I don’t want to see you beat up like that," Frank answered.

"Frank, I get beat up on the field any ways. Please just let me handle it on my own," Joe pleaded. He did want his brother to let him fight his own battles.

"I will not lie for you," Frank said quietly. "But I will not say anything now. But if it happens again, I will say something."

"Fine. Now let’s go home," Joe said, getting into the passenger seat of the station wagon.

"Yeah, better get some ice on that eye! It sure will shine for the dance," Chet mumbled, getting into his jalopy.

Nothing was said on the way home. Frank felt like his gut was being twisted in two directions. On one side was his duty to his parents. He should tell them about what happened to Joe. However, he had promised Joe not to say anything about the incident--- this time. Another thing that struck him as being odd was that Joe did not come out fighting till the end with Steven Miller. Joe was known in the family as having a temper at times and was not the type of person that you could push around easily. But maybe he was putting too much into the situation. Steven Miller probably was jealous that Iola was going to the dance with Joe and it just escalated from there. They were team members. Why would you beat up your team members when you had a shot at the championship!

Soon Frank was pulling the station wagon into the driveway. He wondered how his brother was going to get past BOTH parents since both cars were in the drive. But it did not take much. Joe simply went to his room and started on his homework, without a single word of questioning. Laura was busy making chicken and dumplins and Fenton was in his study, working on the paper work for a case. Frank went down to the kitchen to get an ice bag for Joe. Laura, with her hands covered in flour, smiled at her dark haired son.

"What do you need ice for?" she asked.

"For Joe, he had a rough time at practice I guess," Frank replied.

"Why, what happened?"

Frank did not want to rat his brother out, but he could not lie to his mother.

"I just had a run in with a guy on the team. We were just goofing off. It was a total accident," Joe mumbled as he made his way into the kitchen. Laura’s eyes widened as she saw the huge lump on the side of Joe’s face.

"Joseph! Are you all right?" She said, dropping what she was doing and ran over to him. Even though their mother was used to seeing bumps and scrapes on her men, Laura still reacted the same each time.

"I am fine mom," Joe said, shrugging his mother off. Mrs. Hardy sensed that Joe was starting to squirm under her over protectiveness. He was not her little boy anymore and she needed to give him his space.

"You know where we are if you need us," she said, referring to both herself and their father.

Joe nodded his head, took the bag of ice that Frank made for him and went back upstairs. Frank followed him after snitching a few slices of cucumbers that his mother had sliced up. By the time Frank finished reading his history assignment, a half-hour had passed. Frank walked through the connecting bathroom between the brothers’ rooms and peeked in. Sitting at his desk with headphones on, Joe was doing his algebra while holding the bag of ice with his other hand.

Frank walked over and closed the door to the hallway. Then he walked over to the stereo and turned the music down, catching Joe’s attention.

"What?" Joe asked in an aggravated tone.

"I just wanted you to know that I just went down to get you a bag of ice for your eye. I didn’t think mom would notice that much," Frank said in a low voice.

Joe looked at his brother and then sighed. He could not condemn his brother for something that he would have done himself. "I know Frank. Mom is the human radar. But thanks for going along with my story."

"I just don’t understand something," Frank said quizzically. Joe just looked at him, inviting him to explain himself. "How can you let him get away with that! Any other time you are flying off the handle?"

Joe laid down his pencil and let his headphones hang around his neck.

"I don’t know Frank. Maybe it is because I do not want to start out on a bad foot with Coach Miller. Steven will graduate this year and I will still have three seasons to go after that!" Joe started to say.

"I can understand that, but you can’t let them do that to you or Chet."

"I know… and I will take care of it…somehow," Joe stammered. Frank could tell that there was something more to the situation than Joe was saying. Through all of their cases, there were times the boys were beat and roughed up a little and Joe always bounced back. This time it seemed different than just a little skirmish over a date with a girl. Then Joe said, "It is not like we have not been banged up before you know."

Frank chuckled to cover up his concern. Joe knew that he could always talk to him about anything, he did not have to remind him of that.

"Right now, my worst problem is this math. I mean, first of all, who cares if one train leaves New York at such a time at such a speed and another one leaves on the same track from New Orleans! They would never be on the same track to begin with and who would want to think about crashing trains!" Joe muttered. " Seriously Frank, what is wrong with these people and these questions."

"Those problems are supposed to stimulate your brain into thinking about more complex mathematical operations," Frank answered. Joe looked at him blankly.

"Yeah right! They are depressing. I wish I could have taken the basic math instead of this stuff," Joe complained. His parents and guidance counselor insisted that he started the college prep classes to prepare for college after high school.

"It is easy once you get the hang of it."

"Easy for you to say, you have Geometry! I could do that. I know my shapes and angles and stuff."

Frank reached over and grabbed his notebook to look at what Joe had done so far.

"It looks like you got all the other 28 problems right," Frank pointed out. Joe just sighed and held the ice bag up to his face again. Seeing that Joe was frustrated, Frank helped Joe with the problem. After finishing it, Joe put his books up and started to change his shirt for dinner. But then he remembered that he had smaller bruises all over him from where Steven and his gang had pinched and poked at him since the beginning of their late summer practices. Not wanting to cause any more alarm, Joe grabbed a shirt and went into the bathroom out of sight to change into a clean T-shirt. Frank noticed this hesitation and thought it was odd behavior for Joe. But the sound of their mother’s voice calling the house to dinner interrupted his thoughts. Deciding to just keep an out for his brother, Frank dropped his thoughts for the time being and walked downstairs followed by Joe.

At the dinner table, the incident was discussed since it was hard to miss the bruise that was starting on Joe’s face.

Fenton downplayed the incident to Laura, who wanted to contact Coach Miller. "Boys will be boys Laura. I can’t count how many times Frank and Joe have just been wrestling around and bruised each other up. You know that." Laura smiled and remembered those days well. "Just watch how you play around with your friends Joe."

Joe nodded with a smile and ate his dinner. The rest of the time was left discussing Fenton’s new case, trying to help a lady find the paper work she needed to pursue a lawsuit against a chemical plant. The chemical plant was believed to have been the cause of her husband’s premature death. But without certain paperwork, she could not prove her case. While it was a small one, Fenton enjoyed the smaller jobs in between the big ones. Fenton also mentioned that he had wrap the case up before Saturday to start a bigger case that will leave him having to go on overnight stakeouts. So he was enjoying his time at home with his family. Frank also told his parents about the brothers’ dates for after the game.

After dinner, the boys helped clear up the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Their mother got started on the daily laundry and settled herself in for a quiet night with a book. The phone rang while Frank was just finishing putting the last dish in the dishwasher.

"Joe! It is for you, it is Biff," their mother called out. Frank motioned for Joe to go on ahead and take the call. Joe took the portable and went outside on the back porch. Frank found that to be particular as well. Joe never went anywhere for privacy when it was a common friend of the brothers like Biff. Not wanting Joe to think he was spying, Frank went upstairs to the guest bedroom that overlooked the porch. The guest bedroom closet was an extra storage area for the family and the bedroom was set up for their Aunt Gertrude. The old feisty sister of Fenton would always make a sudden and unannounced appearance. The family loved Gertrude, but sometimes she was just a little too much. He was able to crack open the window just enough to hear his brother’s voice.

"I know Biff, but what can I do. There is nothing more I want than to just send that stupid idiot flying on his keyster, but then I will be put off the team like the rest who went to talk to Coach Miller," Joe’s voice said with great frustration. Joe’s conversation continued with pauses in between.

"I just don’t understand how they can get away with this year after year. He was horrible to Eric Devlin and Heath Webb."

"Well almost breaking Heath’s arm was not the answer. He has the best spot on the team. They all do, why do they want to make things harder for us? We are not a threat, especially since his father is the coach. Steven and his friends can do not wrong you know."

"Yeah, I had to tell Frank about the eye. Chet basically made it to where I had to come clean. But that is all he knows."

"I do hate keeping this from him and my parents, but I have too much to lose this time. I have been treated worse by criminals and survived. I can make it. I just wished you had told me sooner about what happened to you. That was horrible Biff."

"I just wish I could think of something that we could do to stop this stupidity once and for all. But I heard Coach Miller say it himself to Heath when he was in his office. It is a tradition that the juniors and seniors do this. It is supposed to build character and team spirit and that they did it even when Coach went to school here in Bayport."

"I can say this, I will not do it when I get that old. There are other ways to build team spirit than to beat, poke, prod, trip and just plain do stupid things to your teammates."

"Yeah, I will see you tomorrow. Just keep tight lipped about everything and thanks for calling, Biff."

Frank knew then that trouble was brewing. Joe was not the type to back down from a bully and he vowed to help his brother put an end to this behavior whether Joe was going to level with him or not.

While Frank spent time thinking up a way to get some information about the situation, Joe Hardy turned in for bed early. However, he could not sleep. His mind was racing about what he was going to say and do the next day at school. There was also another issue that haunted him.

Why am I so intimidated by Steven Miller and his stupid crew? I have had guns held on me, I have been tied up, things far worse than Steve Miller could ever do. He felt scared then in those times, but there was a different fear this time. One that he could not describe. He knew by hearing and seeing what happened to the other three boys who went to Coach Miller about the problem that discussing the matter was not an option. Coach Miller saw the bullying as a rite of passage--- a long-standing tradition. One that each player needed to just simply take to build character or be shipped to the junior varsity team. But all of those reasons for taking it did not stop the feeling of disappointment in his own self. Joe could not believe that he was going to let someone jerk him and his friend around like that. But no matter what, he was not giving up his date with Iola. That is if she will even still want to go out with such a loser who can’t stand up for what he thinks is right.

And the mental self-beating did not stop there. Joe tossed and turned all night, dreading the morning light. He felt like a chicken, like a wimp, not like the son of a famous detective that had a few cases under his own belt.

But morning came and the day started out with the usual rituals, including the pushes and shoves by Steven and his goons in the hallways. But one thing did go his way. Iola refused Steven’s invitation to the dance, stating she already had a date with Joe. Joe had to stifle a grin for that one. But Steven just glared at Joe every time he laid eyes on him after that. Knowing that he was going to be in for it, Joe took in a deep breath before he entered the locker room to change for gym and prayed that the hands of time would speed up to five o’ clock.

Let the author know what you think of this story