Author's note: Thanks to my cousin Felina for all her great advice! Particulalrly on wording. Also, this is not my usual kind of fanfiction, but with some effort and some great editing assistance, I think it came out well!

1

"You know," said Chet Morton. "You guys really don't look all that much alike." The chubby youth leaned back in the booth at Mr. Pizza, peering at the two brothers.

Joe grinned. "I know. I'm just lucky, I guess."

The group chuckled as Frank slugged Joe in the arm. "Brag away, brat," he said loftily. "You may have the looks and the brawn, but I have all the brains."

Joe snorted. "Coulda fooled me!"

With a wicked smile, Frank shot back, "That's not entirely difficult to accomplish."

This light-hearted banter was taking place in the brightly lit dining room of Mr. Pizza, where the boys' good friend Tony Prito worked. The parlor sat right in the middle of the busy mall, and was one of the more popular places for the youth of Bayport to hang out. The place was crowded.

Frank and Joe Hardy sat in a large, round booth with a handful of their friends; Tony was off work that day, and sat on one end. Chet and Iola were there, as were Biff Hooper and Liz Webling. As the boys proceeded to engage in a brief, mild wrestling match, Callie Shaw also showed up and raised her brows at the scene before her. Frank noticed her and stopped tussling with Joe, allowing the younger boy to successfully give him the noogie he'd been aiming for. "Hi, Callie,' said Frank.

Callie shook her head and laughed. "I was wondering if I'd walked into Wrestlemania or something," she said, as Tony stood to let her sit next to her boyfriend. She thanked him and sat down, watching the two transform themselves back into almost civilized human beings.

"For that matter," said Biff. "Chet and Iola don't look all that similar, either."

Iola grinned impishly and lightly elbowed Chet in the gut. "Especially around the waist."

Far from being insulted, Chet patted his round belly fondly, as if it were an old friend. "Hey, a guy's gotta eat," he said.

"Yes, and you go above and beyond the call of duty!" Iola chuckled and shook her head. "Anyway, Chet takes after Mom," she explained. "While I got Grandpa's dark skin and hair, and his high metabolism."

The group was quiet for a moment as they enjoyed the pizza before them, and listened to the wind howling outside. "Sure am glad this place is heated," Chet muttered.

"Try working in the kitchen," Tony said. "After an hour or so, you'd be wishing for a nice, cold blast of fresh air."

Iola shivered. "Not me!"

Liz looked at the brothers. "So what about you guys?" she asked. "Who do you take after?"

Frank and Joe exchanges glances, and Joe shrugged. "I don't care," he said, as if in answer to an unspoken question.

Frank nodded, then turned back to the group. "Well, I take after Dad. But Joe doesn't take after anyone."

"How'd you manage that one?" Chet asked, a half grin on his face as if he expected Frank to be pulling his leg.

"Well," said Frank, "it's like this..."

When seven year old Frank Hardy came home from school one winter afternoon, his first impression was that something bad had happened. When he walked in the door, his parents were both waiting for him, looking very serious, which made the boy nervous. He put his book bag down on a nearby chair, frowning slightly.

"How was school?" his mother asked him.

Frank shrugged. "Okay. I got stupid reading homework, though." He took off his heavy coat and cast it to the floor.

Laura cocked her head. "I thought you enjoyed reading. And please put your coat on the chair."

Frank complied. "I do," he said. "But all the stuff is so easy and it's boring."

Laura and Fenton both nodded; it was a fair argument. Frank was a very intelligent boy, and read far beyond his grade level.

"Well," said Fenton. "Your mother and I have something we need to talk to you about."

Frank frowned suspiciously. "Am I in trouble?"

Fenton chuckled. "No. Not today, at any rate. No, no, it's just a talk that we decided it's time we had."

Frank looked at him for a moment, and then his eyes widened in horror. "You're-you're not gonna talk about - about -" He broke off, his face turning a deep shade of red.

Fenton and Laura's expressions were that of bafflement as they exchanged looks, neither seeming to know what might be causing their son's dismay. "Talk about..." Laura prompted, looking back at her son.

"You know," Frank said, the red in his cheeks deepening. He looked around, then behind him, as if afraid that someone might be eavesdropping on his every word. When he turned back to his parents he whispered, "The "s" word!" Seeing the utter confusion on his parents' faces, Frank scowled in frustration. He leaned forward, pitching his voice yet lower, so that it was barely audible. "You know... s-e-x!" He spelled the word out, and even then it was as if he had spoken a term of great taboo. Which, if one thought about it, it was, at least among many boys his age.

Fenton blinked in surprise, as Laura turned abruptly around to hide the fact that she was trying, with only partial success, to hide her laugh. Fenton was a bit more composed. "Oh! No, no, son, not about that," he assured and anxious boy. "It's a little early for that talk, I think. No, we've got something else to talk to you about." He sat down, indicating to Frank that he might want to do the same.

"Oh." At his father's urging, Frank climbed onto the couch to listen to what his parents had to say. He felt that after the scare about the possible subject of the talk, that anything would be a breeze to handle. Laura also sat, recovered for now from her bout of mirth.

"All right," Fenton said. "You know that we've been gone quite a bit in the evenings, visiting the orphanage, right?"

Frank nodded his head; boy, did he know! Three times a week for the past few months, he had had to be baby-sat by Fenton's older sister, Gertrude. She was not all that older than Fenton, but she acted like an old lady from the olden days. She was strict and humorless, and Frank did not particularly enjoy his visits with her.

"Well, the reason we have been going, is that we've been visiting with the children and the staff there, getting to know them, and making friends." He looked to Laura, who was far better with this sort of explanation.

The woman smiled. "Dad and I made the decision a couple of years ago," she said to the boy, "that we wanted to adopt another child. We waited until we were ready. And, well, that time has come."

Frank's small brow furrowed, as he looked at his parents, not sure he liked the idea of another child in the house. "You're gonna bring home a kid?"

To their credit, neither parent chuckled at this. "Sort of," said Fenton. It's not so easy as that, and it won't be for a couple of months, yet. Possibly three or four."

Frank bit his lip. "Why?"

"Why are we adopting?" The child nodded, and Fenton put a hand on his shoulder. "First," he said sincerely, "Just so we get this straight, kiddo, we are not replacing you." He smiled a bit and ruffled his son's dark hair. "Your mom and I had always planned on having two children."

"But how come you don't – you know – have another one the regular way?" Frank asked, his face reddening a bit once more.

Laura smiled a little sadly. "I can't have any more children," she told him. "Some of my inside parts were not working right, so I had to have an operation to have them taken out so it didn't make me sick."

"Oh." Frank thought on this. "Are those the parts you need to have a baby?"

"Some of them, yes. But that's okay. There are a lot of children that don't have a family, and I am quite happy to be that family for someone who wants us to be."

Again, the boy was thoughtful. And then he asked: "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"We don't know yet," said Fenton. "We have to see who will want us to adopt them. We won't, of course, adopt anyone who does not want to be adopted."

"We'd like you to come with us at least one of the times," Laura added."

Frank blinked. "Me? How come?"

Laura smiled. "Well, we don't want to adopt a child that you'll end up hating. We want someone we can all get along well with." Frank looked relieved at this information, and Laura noticed. She reached over and hugged him. "This is a big decision, baby, we wouldn't leave you out of it."

This reassurance left Frank feeling a lot less uncertain about this whole adopting idea, though he still wasn't sure if he agreed with it or not! It was on his mind all through the afternoon and dinner, and in his room while he was doing his reading homework. Mom came into the room and kissed him good night.

When she left, Frank thought yet more, turning it over and over in his mind. Did he really want a little brother or sister? Would it be a younger child? He supposed it would be kind of cool, but what if the new child did replace him? What if his parents liked the new one better? Frank was suddenly not so sure he wanted a new sibling.

The next time Fenton and Laura visited the orphanage, Frank did accompany them, his mind still churning with uncertainty. They were greeted, checked in, and then led into the main playroom.

It seemed like a cool orphanage to Frank, nothing like those sterile, institutional asylums that you always read about in books. The room was huge, with ivory walls and natural wood flooring. Colorful play mats and rugs lay everywhere, and the walls were decorated with pictures, learning posters, and kids' artwork. Along the top of the wall, Frank saw the letters of the alphabet, in several languages, it turned out. He mentioned that some of the letters looked mutated, and was told that they were Chinese or Japanese (Fenton wasn't sure which). The windows were covered in white, paper snowflakes, and Frank caught sight of a few sleds in one corner.

Built right into the floor along one side of the room was some small playground equipment for the children to play in when they were inside. There were bookcases, toys, a TV, and VCR, along with various other amusements.

Once Frank had taken in the scenery, Fenton and Laura introduced him to one of the attendants, a pretty black lady who said her name was Janice. She invited the Hardys to go ahead and mingle, and that all three of "them" were in the playroom. Who she spoke of, Frank wasn't sure, and so he asked.

"There are three kids here that we've decided would do well at our home," Laura explained. "And we'll likely adopt one of them."

"Oh! Which ones are they?"

Laura scanned the room, looking for the three kids; it was not so easy, as the children were all moving around a great deal as they played. "Well, there's the girls," she said, pointing to a pair of little girls playing in the corner. They looked about nine years old, and were playing with toy horses and ponies. The smaller one was a little blond child, with big, green eyes; the taller was a tomboy-ish looking girl with mousy brown ponytails.

"Girls?" Frank repeated, looking disgusted.

The two adults exchanged glances. Laura rolled her eyes, smiling a bit, and Fenton chuckled. "Yep," he said. "They would be girls. Come on, let's go talk with them." Frank wasn't at all sure that he was impressed by this idea, but he went along, anyway.

"Hello, girls," Fenton said as he approached the pair.

One of the children looked up and grinned. "Hi, Mr. Hardy!" she said, standing up. The other girl looked at the Hardys and smiled shyly. "Who's the boy?" the first girl asked. "Is he new here?"

Fenton knelt to talk to them. "Cynthia, Samantha, this is our son, Frank."

"Hi," said Frank shortly. He disliked introductions, it made him feel like he was on display. He lifted his hand in a sort of wave.

"Do you wanna play ponies?" the taller girl, Samantha, asked.

"Eu, no," said Frank, a rather comical grimace of distaste on his face, and backed away a step from the pony the girl held out.

Samantha frowned. "Why?"

"'Cuz boys don't play with ponies," Frank said passionately, eyeing the pony as if it might leap into his arms of its own accord. "That's girl stuff!"

Samantha seemed to take some offense to this statement. "What, you think they've got cooties or something?" she said fiercely, holding her pony protectively to her.

"I don't believe in cooties," said Frank.

"Oh."

"But if cooties were real," he said after a moment's consideration, "then they'd have them!"

Samantha scowled, and took a step forward. "They would not!" she argued, loud enough for those nearby to look up and see what was going on.

Before Frank could reply, Fenton stood and put a hand on his shoulder. "Whoa, I think that's enough," he said to the two quarreling children. He lightly ruffled Samantha's shoulder-length hair, and gently tapped Cynthia's nose. "We'll see you girls another time, all right?"

Still glaring at Frank, Samantha answered, "Okay."

"Do you know where Mikey is?" Laura asked them.

Cynthia spoke up for the first time, in a timid little voice that matched her shy demeanor. "I think over at the music station."

Laura smiled warmly. "Thanks, kiddo." Once saying goodbye to the pair, Fenton and Laura steered their son away from the girls and their ponies.

The next encounter went considerably better. Mikey was, indeed, at the music station, which was a little corner of the playroom with various toy instruments and noisemakers. Mikey, the only child at the station just then, looked up from his toy piano playing and smiled brightly. "Hi!"

Mikey was a little towheaded boy of five or six years, with clear blue eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His blond hair was a wild shag that hung in front of his eyes, and he absently brushed it aside.

"Hello, Mikey," said Fenton, kneeling once more. "How are you?"

"Good!" said Mikey. "I was playing, you wanna hear?"

"Absolutely!" As the child sat at the little piano once more, Fenton and Laura gave him their attention. Even Frank watched curiously.

For being played on a toy piano, Mikey's "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" sounded pretty good. Laura and Fenton clapped when he was done. "Janice taught me it," Mikey explained.

"It was good," Laura assured him.

Frank looked interestedly at the little piano. "Can I try it?" he asked.

"Sure!" said Mikey, motioning for Frank to join him at the tiny piano and proceeded to teach Frank how to play the song.

Fenton and his wife watched the boys play for a while; after the piano lesson, they played on the slide for a bit, and then joined three other boys in racing Hot Wheels.

"Looks like he might be the one," Fenton said with a chuckle.

"Seems so," Laura agreed. "But we have a couple of months, yet to decide."

"Hmm," said Fenton, his tone mildly teasing. "Do I detect a desire for another female around to balance things out a bit?"

Laura laughed at this. "Well, of course that would be nice! Then you two couldn't gang up on me so easily." She winked. "But, more seriously, with a girl there might be less chance of constant competition. Girls and boys of that age are usually quite different in their likes." She paused and went on. "Sill, Frank and Mikey seem to get along well enough."

"Yes," said Fenton. "They do."

After about a half hour, the Hardys left. Though feeling a bit dazed with the suddeness of everything, Frank said that he liked Mikey, and wouldn't mind having him for a brother. His parents told him they were glad to hear it, and if he liked, he could go back to play with the children. Frank said that he would.