Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).
Note: This story was written around the year 2005, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines, and Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat were still in the future. Also it was co-written with someone from the Hardy Detective Agency website, pen name Aspen, now known on this site as RokiaHDA.
Fanfare for June
By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA
Chapter 1
A lone figure stood in the echoing upstairs hallway known familiarly as 'Senior Hall' of Bayport High School, gazing at his nearly-empty locker. Only one or two people passed by, hurrying to classes for which they were already late. But the tall boy studying the locker so intently didn't seem to care about the seconds ticking past; he was deep in thought.
Joe Hardy leaned against the bank of closed lockers and absently pushed back a lock of blonde hair. His blue eyes, usually so alert and twinkling, held an introspective light as he continued to stare at his locker.
Nine days. Graduation in nine days. Today's the last day of school for me, he mused. And that's a miracle! I'd forgotten about that nice little custom of letting seniors with a B average or higher skip finals, until after spring vacation. Thank the Lord for Frank and Vanessa! He chuckled, recalling the late nights of cramming and intensive study his older brother had put him through for Advanced Calculus, and what seemed like endless drilling by his girlfriend. But he'd managed to pull that one class grade from a C to a B, in two months, thanks to a lot of hard work.
Joe glanced down the hall, as movement caught his eye, and smiled when he saw April Wayne open the door to a classroom and dart inside. April, being a sophomore, had a week of school yet. But as for him…. Just three more classes today, clean out my locker, and go to graduation rehearsals! Joe inwardly exulted. Although I can't imagine what Mrs. Martell was thinking, scheduling four rehearsals! I can see one or two, but…four? She's evidently gone obsessive-compulsive – oh well, even with all the rehearsals, it doesn't get much luckier than this! Nine days – nine days!
Joe swiveled around and surveyed the long, quiet corridor, suddenly feeling a trifle nostalgic. Bayport High was a mixture of old and new. The original school had been built in the 1920s, and that structure formed the main core of the building. Brickwork on the outside, high ceilings and tall windows with Gothic arches, and dark linoleum prevailed there. In other parts of the school, however, glass and sparkling chrome and tile were the norm The building had been renovated, remodeled, and added to so many times in the intervening decades that it sometimes resembled a giant maze, with hallways and staircases leading in a multitude of directions. Modular 'mobile home' classrooms dotted the edges of the parking lots, and the burgeoning school had grown outward to reach nearly to the football and soccer fields, established more than a block away from the original school building.
I'm glad to leave…but I guess I'll miss it, too. Joe smiled reflectively as he briefly recalled incidents and occurrences from the past four years. In his mind's eye, he could still see what had come to be known as 'The Senior Strut,' when he, Chet Morton, and Biff Hooper had proudly strode the length of senior hall the previous fall, shoulder-to-shoulder, clad in their jeans and letterman's jackets.
A rustle of someone's approach, a sudden whiff of familiar perfume and two arms snuggled about his waist caused his smile to widen into a grin. "Vanessa!" Joe turned in the embrace and found himself face-to-face with his tall, blonde girlfriend, Vanessa Bender. "Hey, babe!" Happy to find her so conveniently near, Joe leaned a few inches and kissed her warmly.
Vanessa…gorgeous, talented, witty Vanessa. Vanessa, who now was officially hisgirl, for she was wearing his class ring! As he kissed her, Joe's thoughts traveled back to the previous month, when he'd finally gathered up the courage to ask her if she'd be willing to wear it. Now that caused quite a ruckus! he thought. And it had, at least in the Hardy household. Frank had never bothered to buy a class ring, let alone offer it to a girl, so this was a new situation to handle. And although their parents usually bent over backwards being fair-minded, there were a lot of conversations involving the words 'awfully young' and 'commitment' and 'are you sure?' for a few days. But Joe had remained firm in his decision. And Vanessa had seemed quite willing to accept the ring and to observe the time-honored custom of winding it with yarn so that it would fit snugly on her slender finger.
"You're late for class," Vanessa chided now, when their kiss ended.
"And you aren't?" Joe smiled into her blue-gray eyes.
"It's just a review, and since I don't have to take the final anyway….Penny for your thoughts? You looked like you were a thousand miles away!"
"I guess I was sort of saying goodbye," Joe admitted, somewhat self-consciously. "I know we'll be in and out between now and graduation, but…."
Vanessa turned her head and looked at their surroundings. "I don't have the history here you do," she observed, "but I still know what you mean." She gripped his arms and shook him gently. "Enough of the trip down Memory Lane, Joe! We're done! We have three classes, and then we're finished being high school kids! It's time to celebrate!"
"Par-ty, par-ty, par-ty?" he grinned. "Well, I know Chet's folks are planning a barbecue out at the farm for us next weekend, and Tony said he'd spring for pizzas for the whole crowd as a group present."
She leaned against him. "Aren't you glad Frank and I made you study so hard? Now you don't have to take finals!"
"Very glad, babe." Joe stroked her long, ash-blonde hair. "Having to take finals would definitely put a damper on the next nine days."
"Are you going to be ready to leave for New York right after school, for the concert?" Vanessa asked then.
Joe nodded. "I just have to grab these few things from my locker. I'm not all that excited about seeing a symphony concert – it'll probably be a total yawn – but it's cool that Phil's new girlfriend is playing in it. And seeing Phil again will be great."
"You're showing your lack of culture there, Hardy." Vanessa gave his nose a gentle tweak. "I didn't realize I was going with Conan the Barbarian!"
"I have plenty of culture!" he protested. "Loads of culture! I'm just not into symphonic music, that's all. I'm a rock 'n roll sort of guy – Van Halen. Aerosmith. R.E.M. Everclear. Something with a beat!"
"You might be surprised," Vanessa informed him archly. "This is a junior symphony, remember? Kids our ages. It won't be all Bach and Beethoven and Prokofiev, I'll bet."
Joe grinned. "Maybe you're right, but I just can't imagine rock music being played on a violin!" He pursed his lips and drew his face into the haughtiest, most high-hat expression he could manage.
Vanessa laughed. "Shows how much you know – you need to work on expanding your imagination, Joe. You can do all kinds of things with a violin, just like you can with a guitar, or a set of drums!"
"Well—" Joe linked the fingers of one hand with Vanessa's, and reached to brush back her hair with the other. "maybe you're right. I'm willing to be shown, anyway…" He leaned forward, closer to those oh-so-inviting lips….
The sound of a throat being cleared abruptly jarred them from their moment. Turning, flushed with guilt, they found themselves being observed by Mrs. Kinney, the tiny blonde P.E. teacher and girls' soccer coach.
"You two have classes yet today," she commented, smiling at them, "and I suggest you get to them. You aren't quite free of school yet! Now, shoo!"
"Yes, Mrs. Kinney," Vanessa wriggled out of Joe's grasp. "On my way!" She scuttled off down the hall without a backward glance.
Joe chuckled, retrieved his textbooks from his locker and shut the door. "Okay, Mrs. Kinney," he said politely, and headed for class.
##########
Frank Hardy parked his brand-new, shiny black Saturn across the street from the high school, dropped the windows, and shut off the engine. He unfastened his seat belt, and relaxed, turning to the girl in the passenger seat, his dark eyes filled with warm affection.
"We have a few minutes yet," he said in a soft baritone. He reached out a caressing hand and toyed with a tendril of golden-red hair. "Excited about going? I know I am!"
"Very much!" Megan Wright, whom Frank had begun to seriously consider his soul mate, smiled happily at him. Her long-lashed turquoise eyes sparkled with anticipation. "I'm sure the concert will be fabulous!"
"Yes—" Frank chuckled ruefully. "Well, I guess I'm more excited about seeing Phil than the concert, although that's certainly a bonus. I know you're looking forward to it. And since we're doubling with Joe and Vanessa, that makes it even better!" The brown eyes twinkled. "And I want to show off my new car to Phil, naturally!"
"You're sure you got everything?" Megan fretted, glancing towards the car trunk. "If you forgot something of Joe's, for instance, he'll be mad at you—"
"Joe packed his stuff himself; if he forgot anything, he can't blame me for it," Frank assured her.
"He hates dressing up, though," Megan continued to worry. "I could see him 'forgetting' to pack his shoes, or his tie, or something, out of sheer rebellion."
"You had to think of that, didn't you?" Frank shoved his hand through his dark hair. "Do you suppose we should check?"
"If he did, it's too late now to go back," Megan reminded him, with her usual practicality. "He'd just have to borrow from Phil, or something. Well, I'm fairly sure that neither Vanessa nor I forgot anything."
Frank snorted. "If you did, I can't imagine what. You'd think you were spending the weekend in New York, not coming right back to Bayport tonight. You girls' bags were twice as heavy as Joe's and mine!" He grinned. "I'm sure glad Phil offered to let us change at his place. I'd have hated to drive to New York in our dress clothes. This way we'll be comfortable."
"Are you familiar with where we're going to dinner before the concert?" she inquired, but Frank shook his head.
"No, Phil just said it was near where the symphony's playing, and one of his current favorites. I hope that doesn't mean a deli, or a pizza joint, or something!"
"Oh, come on, trust Phil." Megan reached to give his fingers a comforting squeeze. She had only met Phil Cohen once before, when he had returned to Bayport for Joe's 18th birthday celebration, but she had been impressed with the young man's close friendship with Frank, and his quiet, but obvious, intelligence. "He's not likely to do something like that."
"No, I suppose not," Frank admitted. "Oh—" he broke off, as an earsplitting buzzer sounded over the quiet street. "There's the ending bell, Joe and Vanessa should be here any time now."
Students began spilling from the doors, and judging from the ecstatic antics of most of them, the seniors were the first ones out. A few minutes later, Joe and Vanessa appeared, hand-in-hand, and hurried across the street to the car. Frank popped the trunk open, and they deposited their backpacks inside, then climbed into the back seat.
"Done! We're done!" Joe exulted. He hugged Vanessa exuberantly. "HALLELUJAH!" he bellowed.
Vanessa freed herself and rubbed at her ears. "Ouch! Next time you're going to yell like that, warn me!" She settled into her seat behind Frank, and reached for her seat belt.
Joe shoved his lower lip out in a mock pout. "You don't love me," he accused, then chuckled and wriggled in his own seat, trying to get comfortable.
"Joe, hang on." Megan reached for the controls, and scooted her seat forward a few inches. "There, is that better?" She turned around, as much as her safety belt allowed, to face the rear seats.
"Much – thanks!" Joe stretched his long legs out gratefully. Frank turned the key in the ignition, and the motor throbbed to life. Cautiously navigating around the streams of high school students in the street, he pulled out of his parking space. They were on their way to New York!
"I can't believe it, I really can't." Vanessa stretched, and smiled blissfully. "Done with school – high school, anyway. No more classes, just graduation rehearsals and then graduation, and then…freedom! Frank, this car is beautiful!" she added, running an admiring hand across the soft upholstery.
Frank cast an appreciative glance in the rearview mirror and nodded his agreement with Vanessa's assessment of his car.
Beside her, Joe mirrored Vanessa's contented smile. "Party on, we're gonna raise the roof….Hey, bro, if you felt like this last year, you sure didn't show it!" he added. Frank glanced quickly over his shoulder, meeting his brother's mischievous gaze.
"I was glad to be done, sure," he said. "I just didn't go around yelling about it." He turned his gaze back to the highway. "Did you feel the same way, Megan?" he directed his question to his girlfriend.
"Well…I suppose so." Megan's reply was subdued. She smiled, but there was a wistful quality to her expression. For just a second, her mind flashed back to her own graduation, a year before. She hadn't felt like partying then. Her graduation had been completely overshadowed by her father's death the previous month; there had been no celebrations for Megan, other than the bare minimum of the school ceremonies. She summoned a brighter smile. "Maybe graduating from Lakeridge Academy is different from graduating from Bayport. I mean, there's only about a quarter of the students there, for one thing."
Frank wasn't sure what had caused his girlfriend's momentary upset, but he hastened to shove the conversation into happier channels. "Personally, I'm finding it hard to believe you're actually graduating!" he teased Joe over his shoulder. "I was sure you'd never manage it, and you'd be the world's oldest senior – maybe you'd finally get your diploma when you were fifty, or so."
Joe punched Frank's arm lightly. "You goof," he said. "You know I'd graduate – my natural charm and intelligence and charisma would see to that! How could the administration turn me down?"
"You mean your natural egotism, don't you?" Megan murmured mildly, keeping her face resolutely turned towards the front to hide her dancing eyes. Joe huffed indignantly from the back seat, and Vanessa wickedly giggled at his discomfiture. Then she leaned over and kissed him soundly, and all was right with Joe Hardy's world once more.
"I wish Chet and Devon had been able to come with us," Vanessa remarked, when she was once more settled on her side of the car. "I'm sure Devon, especially, would have enjoyed the concert."
"We'd have been squished in here, with six," Joe demurred.
"Why was it they couldn't?" Megan inquired, turning around again.
"Chet's got finals to take," Joe informed her, "so he's supposed to be studying."
"And Devon had to work early tomorrow morning, she said," Vanessa added. "I do wish she could have been able to get away; seeing a junior symphony orchestra made up of the best young musicians in New York will be something else!"
"I was reading about them, yesterday." Megan nodded her agreement. "Want to hear what I learned?"
"We won't be tested on it, later, will we?" Joe asked plaintively. Frank choked with laughter at that, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Megan reached between the seats to whack Joe's arm in punishment for his impertinence.
"You will," she threatened, then continued with her discourse on the New York Junior Symphony. "It was founded to allow the best musicians from local high schools and colleges the opportunity to work in large ensembles together. That's something that might not be available to them otherwise, especially for the high school kids. There's an age limit – you have to be younger than 23, and at least 17, to be in it. So it's strictly for high school seniors and college students."
Joe was looking a little more interested now. "Did it say what kind of music they play?" he asked.
"Actually, it did," Megan replied. "Although they do play classical pieces – Bach, Tchaikovsky, Wagner, Beethoven, Copeland – you name a famous composer and they probably play him – they also do other things. Stuff from musicals, blues or jazz greats, even some march pieces, like John Philip Sousa. And for your information, Joe, they even do some rock and roll – classic rock like the Beatles, and newer things too. Remember," she continued, "it's a junior symphony. The article said that the pieces are chosen by a vote of the symphony members, not the conductor. These kids like popular music too. Apparently the only thing set in advance, when they choose the music for a concert, is the number of each type."
"Run that one by me again?" Frank requested, frowning slightly.
Megan smiled. "For instance, there might be two modern pieces, four from previous musical periods, two jazz or blues numbers, maybe one folk tune, or a number from a Broadway show…." she elaborated. "Those numbers aren't correct; that's just an example," she added.
Joe groaned, and held his hands to his temples. "My brain hurts now; no more musical history! I thought I was done with school!"
The others laughed, and Megan patted him consolingly. "Sorry, Joe, but I thought you'd like to be prepared."
Frank relaxed behind the wheel as he drove; they were ahead of the worst of the afternoon traffic, so he didn't feel he had to concentrate all his attention on the road and the surrounding vehicles. He could spare an occasional glance – or more than an occasional one.
Unusually daring, he divided his attention between the New York-bound traffic and the girl in his front passenger seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Megan tilt her head back against the headrest, and absently twist a lock of coppery hair about her forefinger as she gazed out the side window. Wonder what she's thinking?….Anticipating the concert? Wishing Joe'd quit whining, for once? Thinking about – me, maybe? Frank bit back a grin, and focused on his driving for a bit, but after a few moments his attention wandered again.
She makes me happier than I've ever been with any one else. I'm so lucky to have found her. No, more than lucky – blessed to have found her! She's everything I could have ever wanted in a girl…. As if feeling his eyes on her, Megan turned her head and smiled at him, that warm, inviting smile that lighted her beautiful eyes and caused her dimple to briefly appear. She pursed her lips and blew him a tiny kiss, then returned her gaze to the passing scenery.
The closer they got to the city, the thicker the traffic became, and Frank found he needed to concentrate fully on his driving. All four of them were familiar with New York City; Megan and Vanessa had both lived there, and the boys were in and out often. Aside from avoiding being cut off by some aggressive native New Yorker or plowed into by an alarmed tourist, Frank had no trouble reaching his destination.
Once in Manhattan, he easily located the restaurant Phil had recommended. They passed Symphony Hall first, and found the parking garage Phil had told Frank about, right around the corner from the restaurant. Once the Saturn was parked, the teens climbed out of the car, and Frank carefully locked it. Then they set out for the restaurant, anxious to see Phil, and meet his girlfriend.
As they sauntered casually along the crowded sidewalk, each couple hand-in-hand, Frank glanced about, noting his surroundings as a matter of long habit. Just as they were about to enter the restaurant, he noticed a casually dressed, burly man with long, thick light hair, standing across the street and glancing through the pages of a newspaper…or seeming to. As Frank watched, however, the man looked up and stared at the restaurant, and his eyes narrowed into slits. Is he casing the joint? Frank wondered. Or waiting for someone? He smiled to himself. Maybe he really is just standing there and reading the paper. Or maybe he's an undercover cop….
"Frank! Aren't you coming?" Megan's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see her gesturing imperatively from the open door. "Joe says if you don't get in here now, he's going to drag you in…"
"All right, I'll be right there." Frank quickened his steps and caught up with the other three. As they entered the restaurant, Frank didn't have a chance to glance back. If he had, he would have seen the man fold his newspaper under his arm, and start across the street….