Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Chapter Thirty-Three: Indecision

When we got home after the baseball game, Joe took a shower while I went to my room to lie down and think. I hadn’t made much progress, twenty minutes later, when Joe came quietly into my room. He sat down on the edge of my bed, wrapped the towel he was using to dry his hair around his neck, and gave me that raised-eyebrows-head-tilted-silent-question look of his.

“I really don’t know what to tell them,” I replied. “I mean…”

“How much to tell them,” Joe offered.

“Yeah. Y’know, details are one thing, but talking about our family is a lot different. We never have said much about it when there’s trouble. Maybe ‘cause there isn’t an awful lot of trouble,” I mused aloud, tucking my arm behind my head.

“Say again?”

“Like we don’t go talking about arguments or anything, when there are arguments. Whether it’s between Mom and Dad or anyone else. There aren’t, very often- at least, not compared to some kids, whose parents argue like every day- but it’s something we don’t tell the gang about.”

Joe regarded me with a thoughtful frown. “I don't think I see the connection between our parents arguing, other kids' parents arguing, and your birth parents," he said doubtfully.

“I’m not that far along,” I explained, sighing. Apparently it was my turn to not make myself clear. “I’m trying to figure out how to explain that the reason I got shot was because I stormed out in the middle of an argument. You know that’s happened before- but our friends don’t.”

“Oh!” Joe settled onto the bed, cross-legged, and let his towel drop to the floor. “Now I see. It’s going to be a bit of a shock to ‘em, to hear that, since we never mentioned any sort of family squabbles before.”

“Exactly.

"Well- it's not like we're the only ones. You know- we all know that Jerry despises his parents, but he's never explained why, just changes the subject every time it comes up. So I don't think anyone'll get after us for not mentioning that we argue with 'em sometimes, or that they argue with each other."

"Yeah, but once I go into detail of what the argument was about…” I paused as Joe winced. “That could have an adverse effect on certain relationships.”

“Talk English,” my brother requested. "Please."

“You need to pull out your dictionary and start expanding your vocabulary; you’ll need it for the SAT’s next year,” I remarked out of the blue.

“I’ll worry about that next year. What’re you getting at, ‘adverse effect’?”

I hesitated. “If people learn that Mom’s favoring you and ignoring me- well, not ignoring, but you know- if they think that, they might…I dunno, try to compensate for it somehow. Like leave you out, or…well, maybe I’m jumping at shadows,” I finished lamely, seeing the comprehension darken his face. “But when you say ‘favoritism’ to people, you can get some pretty strong reactions. And I don’t want that.”

“I don’t think I want that, either,” Joe allowed. “Strong reactions aren’t always reasonable reactions- and I would know,” he ended ruefully.

I smiled; he certainly would. Joe’s very intelligent and thinks things through carefully- unless his emotions are involved. “And then there is the problem of my- first parents,” I went on, closing my eyes. “Though…that’s actually easier, I’m not sure I’m ready to share that with anyone.”

“You’ve hardly had time to get used to it yourself.” Joe’s voice was quiet and compassionate. “And really, it’s not their business. And that,” he concluded, suddenly grave, “could have a seriously- adverse- effect.”

I considered that for a moment, frowning. If I told the guys I was actually Fenton Hardy’s nephew, that my real parents were dead, that Joe was my cousin- how would that have a bad effect? “I don’t quite see that,” I ventured.

“It’ll change how they see us,” my brother replied, shrugging. “And that might alter how they relate to us- I mean, how they treat us.”

I nodded; he had a point. Of course, they might not necessarily see us as anything but the guys they’d been friends with for years; but then again, they might. “So that’s out,” I decided, but almost immediately wavered. “Except-”

“Except?”

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to tell them, than to risk them hearing it from anyone else? And anyway…I wanted to know the truth; shouldn’t I assume they’d want to know, too?”

“Well…” Joe scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “First, who’s going to tell them? And second, that’s very different- you should’ve been told the truth because it involved you.”

“And it doesn’t involve our friends?” I protested.

“Not directly.” Joe shrugged, then looked down at me. “Well, I don’t think so, but that’s just me. Anyway, if you’re not going to tell them about the fight, there’s no need for ‘em to know what was at the root of it.”

I was quiet for a while, musing. “I wish I didn’t always see both sides of something,” I grumped at last. “Makes it hard to settle my mind on a decision.”

“At least you’re open-minded,” Joe encouraged me, and I smiled at him.

“I guess that’s one point in my favor. Thanks, brother. I guess I need to give this a lot more thought before I try to decide anything, but thanks for trying to help.”

“Anytime.” Joe touched my arm briefly, then bent down to pick up his towel. “The hot water should’ve recovered by now, if you want to get into the shower.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“What would I be trying to tell you?” Joe’s blue eyes were wide and innocent; no one in the world looks as angelic as that kid when he makes the effort.

“Just wondered if there was a hidden message somewhere.”

“You need a mystery to solve,” my brother teased as I sat up. “You’ve been deprived for so long, you’re seeing clues and secret codes in perfectly ordinary things.”

“Occupational hazard,” I agreed, and got up to go shower.

I continued to brood over the problem all the next day, weighing the pros and cons, changing my mind every hour or so, giving up in frustration only to start worrying at it again. This made me moodier and more withdrawn than before and I think Dad knew there was more bugging me than usual, for he tried to get me to tell him about it. I thanked him, but refused, saying I needed to work it out myself. Of course, that was the problem: I wasn't working it out, just going in circles! But since I knew his advice would run alongside Joe's- to do what felt right to me- I didn't really see the need to go into it. He seemed a little sad at my response, but accepted it and left me alone.

By bedtime Friday night, I was in a stew over my inability to make a decision. It was such a simple matter, on the surface; why couldn't I decide? It wasn't like me, and I sat up for a while after everyone else was asleep, trying to figure out why I kept going in circles.

When the realization hit me, around two in the morning, it was a lot like having a flashlight get turned on in my face: blinding and uncomfortable. The reason I couldn’t decide what to tell people was because the situation was still hanging wide open. I had pretty much resigned myself to re-accepting Dad as ‘Dad’, and of course there was no difficulty at all with my brother, but I was still avoiding Mom like the plague. I couldn’t possibly explain that situation- not even the fact that we’d had a raging argument- until I’d come to some conclusion on how I felt about it. I needed to face the woman and deal with her feelings and mine; only then would I be able to decide what, and how much, to tell my friends.

I decided I’d do it in the morning; that would leave me the afternoon to steady myself and reach a conclusion about what to say at the party Saturday night.

I didn’t sleep very well that night.