“Are you okay,” C. J. asked, peering out the door behind Vicki, where the intruder had disappeared from sight. Their conversation was interrupted as a pizza delivery vehicle pulled up. Vicki paid and C. J. took the box to the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” Vicki replied after he left, though she sounded far from it, "Just few bruises…that’s all. Don’t worry about it.” She pounded a fist into her open palm in frustration before closing the door.

C. J. was still back to the kitchen, where the pizza box sat on the table. Vicki stayed by the door for a moment and then pulled the note out of her pocket, opening it slowly, as if scared of its contents. She read it carefully, to not miss a word, as if they each contained a secret code.

Vicki looked over at C. J. and then the pizza box, “I’m not hungry anymore…at least not for pizza.”

“Me either,” C. J. answered, “Did you get a good look at the guy?”

“Not really,” Vicki replied, “I wasn’t really thinking that a pizza guy was going to attack me so I didn’t see the importance.”

“People can surprise you,” C. J. told her, “You think we would have learned that by now.”

“Never trust anyone. Everyone’s a suspect,” Vicki responded, “The one rule that we forget sometimes.” C. J. nodded and then noticed the note in Vicki’s hand.

“What’s that,” she asked, pointing to it. Vicki looked down at it and then handed it to C. J.

“The intruder shoved that in my pocket,” she shrugged, and then smiled slightly, “Nothing new there, right?” C. J. smiled back, but she didn’t miss the depression behind Vicki’s own. She was upset about something, but C. J. would hear about it sooner or later.

“The next dance will lead to your grave,” C. J. read. She turned to her best friend, “This is serious. We should turn it in to the police.”

“Yeah, because the force just loves us,” Vicki stated sarcastically, then sighed, “But you’re right. We should have the chief look at this.” She laughed and then gestured to the phone, “Will you do the honors?”

“Why can’t you do anything for yourself,” C. J. asked with a grin, glad to see Vicki acting more like herself.

“Hey,” Vicki exclaimed jokingly, gesturing dramatically, “I just went through a traumatic experience.”

“Exactly,” C. J. told her, smiling and holding out the phone. Vicki scowled for a moment, but took the phone.

 

After briefing the police on the new activity, the girls tried to get some sleep. After determining that it was close to impossible though, they decided to talk, hoping that the task would lull them easily to sleep.

An uneasy silence passed between the girls, something they hadn’t experienced often in the many years of their friendship. C. J. however, felt it stronger than Vicki did.

“I can’t believe I let him get away,” Vicki suddenly exclaimed, “He was right there and I had every opportunity, and I missed it!” She sighed in frustration, placing her head into her open hands, “I want this to be over with.”

“So do I,” C. J. replied, “But we’ll get him soon enough. We know when he’s supposed to strike. He’s getting desperate.”

“What makes you say that,” Vicki asked, her voice muffled.

“He took the risk of getting a uniform and he came inside,” C. J. said, “He hasn’t come close to us before, not in person.”

“True,” Vicki said, raising her head to look C. J. in the eyes, “but it doesn’t make sense. Why risk us seeing his face? He obviously doesn’t want us to know who he is.”

“The Prom is on Saturday,” C. J. pointed out, “He probably just wants to scare you until then, even if it means taking extreme measures.”

 

The next morning, the girls woke up slowly. The fact that neither had gotten much sleep was evident. Both actually wondered what the constant beeping was until they realized that it was Vicki’s alarm clock, set to wake them at seven.

By the time they went downstairs for breakfast, they were dressed, but not fully awake. Vicki’s outfit of jeans and a slightly rumpled blue t-shirt displayed her exhaustion outwardly. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, but she ignored the many strands that strayed to her ears.

C. J. was a bit better off in jeans and a black button-up shirt. A letterman jacket, which she had earned for her academic achievements, was thrown over her shoulders. None however, could miss her tousled hair, quite a difference from her normal ‘got-it-together’ look.

“Did you get any sleep last night,” Vicki finally spoke, pulling down a box of cereal. C. J. simply looked at her, eyes speaking for her, "Me neither.”

“I know,” C. J. replied, “You were half-awake the whole night, talking about anything in order to fall asleep. I never knew that making macaroni and cheese could be so interesting.” She smiled, but no sarcastic remark came from her friend, “Vicki?”

“Huh,” Vicki asked, snapping from her dazed expression, “What?” C. J. shook her head, visually telling Vicki to forget about it.

“Let’s just eat and leave for school,” C. J. told her, “We need to get there early if we hope to get to class on time.”

After breakfast, the girls gathered their backpacks and headed outside to Vicki’s convertible. At first, the car looked perfectly normal. A closer inspection however, showed that all four of the tires had been slashed.

“Great,” Vicki muttered, looking at the damage, “Now how are we getting to school?”

“I do have a van you know,” C. J. reminded her.

“Yeah, but isn’t your dad borrowing it to get to work since his car’s in the shop? And he’s out of town for a business meeting until Friday,” Vicki asked. C. J. groaned, having forgot that fact, “I’ll call Joe.”

 

A few minutes later, Joe pulled up to Vicki’s house. His old letterman jacket was thrown across the passenger seat, but he quickly moved it out of the way. C. J. noticed Joe’s dark blue van and headed over. His green eyes appeared worried at the phone call he had received from Vicki earlier. His blond hair was tousled, thanks to the open window on the driver’s side

A minute later, a tow truck arrived and Vicki spoke with the driver, insuring when she would get her car back and what she’d have to pay. Vicki walked up a few moments later.

“What happened,” Joe asked immediately. Vicki had promised to tell him as soon as he arrived.

“It appears that whoever is after us,” C. J. started, “slashed her tires.”

“I guess he doesn’t want me going anywhere,” Vicki told him, “I’ll tell you the rest on the way. We don’t want to be late.”

On the short five-minute ride to the high school, Joe was told what had happened the previous night. Though outraged, he calmed down enough to promise not to reveal any information. He dropped them off at the main building, spoke quietly to Vicki for a moment and gave her a quick kiss before he drove off. Vicki laughed once he was out of sight.

“What,” C. J. asked, “What did he say?”

“Just telling me to be careful and stay safe,” Vicki replied.

“Then what was so funny,” C. J. questioned.

Vicki became grimly silent for a moment, “Because for once…I’m listening to him.”

 

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.