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).
This story was originally written for a contest on the HDA site in 2005. It is set before the story series which begins with September Song, and contains only canon characters. It is a one-shot Christmas story.
Thank you so much, Cherylann, Max2013, BMSH, Sarai and ErinJordan for your kind feedback to the prior Christmas tale I posted.
A Snowball's Chance
By
EvergreenDreamweaver
Joe Hardy stood in the upstairs hallway of Bayport High School near his locker, ignoring the throng of students jostling him as he stared thoughtfully at a poster thumb-tacked to a bulletin board. Surrounded by and decorated with painted snowflakes and glitter, the large green letters seemed to leap out at him:
Bayport's 35th Annual SnowBall!
The most glamorous teen event of the holiday season!
Saturday, December 8th, 8:00 p.m. to midnight, at the Bayport Armory.
Sponsored by the Bayport YWCA and YMCA
Remember, GUYS – for this dance, GIRLS DO THE INVITING!
Girls, get your tickets early!
The annual Bayport SnowBall. Just the most time-honored teen formal holiday dance in the city's history, that's all.
Joe Hardy was in a quandary.
Unlike some of his peers, who were groaning about the necessity of getting dressed up and attending a formal Christmas dance, should they happen to be invited, Joe didn't have that much of a problem with wearing a tuxedo and going to a dance. He had used to...until an acquaintance who was in the school orchestra commented that wearing a tuxedo was simply a fact of life for all orchestra and concert band members, for every performance! After that, Joe decided that if a band nerd could handle it, surely he could! And he reminded his protesting 'jock' friends that they weren't going to let a bunch of orchestra kids show them up...now, were they?
The tuxedo wasn't his problem.
Since it was girl-ask-boy, with the girls paying for the tickets, dinner, and everything except his tux and their own flowers, he didn't have to concern himself about being able to afford to go, either.
And he wasn't worried about not being invited. In fact, he was more concerned that he would be invited, than not. He had been dating Vanessa Bender for several months now, and their relationship had become increasingly close. He was sure she was going to ask him to go. He'd overheard her talking about the SnowBall with Callie Shaw, and with Liz Webling and Karen Kerr, all of them sounding excited and flurried.
It was his guilt that was the problem. Guilt and nostalgia.
Last year, he had attended the SnowBall with his then-girlfriend, Iola Morton. They'd gone in a large group, with Joe's older brother, Frank, and Callie; with Biff Hooper and Karen, with Liz and Don West, and a few other couples. They'd met for a 'paparazzi' session, where parents took photos by the dozens, and then gone to dinner together, and on to the dance. It had been an evening full of glittering enchantment, like a short visit to Fairyland. Joe still could remember how Iola had looked, even without looking at the photographs from that night. She'd been dressed in a floating, fluffy white dress that made her resemble some sort of Snow Princess...
"Hey, Hardy!" The voice jolted him from his pensive thoughts, as did the nudge against his shoulder. "Move it! You're blockin' the hall!"
"Oh – yeah, sorry." Joe obligingly moved out of the way, and began walking towards the stairs. It was his lunch break, and he had to meet Vanessa and Frank and the others in the cafeteria. But his disturbed, thoughtful frown didn't go away.
Iola was gone now.
Dead.
She had been killed in a terrorist car-bombing intended to take out Joe and Frank. Her body had never even been found; it had apparently been vaporized by the intense heat of the explosion.
It had taken Joe a long time to dare to give even a little of his heart to another girl. And even though he was very, very fond of Vanessa, enjoyed being with her – they seemed to mesh seamlessly, find the same things funny, enjoyed just hanging around together – he was afraid to surrender completely to his impulse to admit that Vanessa was the one for him – more so than Iola had been.
If Vanessa asked him to the dance – would it be wrong for him to say yes? Would it be disloyal to Iola – to her memory?
#####
"Callie, what am I going to do?" Vanessa Bender's voice was filled with sadness. She flopped backwards across Callie's flounced, four-poster bed and stared up into the arched canopy above her. "I want to ask Joe to SnowBall, but I'm afraid he'll say 'no'!"
"If he does, he's crazy," her friend commented. "You two make such a gorgeous couple, Van; you'd be a shoo-in to be chosen Snow Queen and King!"
"That's not why I want to ask him!" Vanessa protested. "I don't care about being Snow Queen, and I'm sure Joe doesn't want to be Snow King, either! I just want to go to the dance with him." She sighed. "It's such a special occasion – it's not just a school dance! People come from all the high schools around the area – high school kids can invite college people, if they're dating..."
"You could always ask Brian Schoenfeld; he's mad about you – follows you around like a puppy..." Callie ducked behind a pillow, chuckling wickedly.
"We already have a puppy, thanks," Vanessa reminded her acidly. "I went out once with Brian. Once. Once was enough!"
Callie pursed her lips in thought. She had known Joe for years; they'd had their rows, but they'd remained friends somehow. Sometimes more for Frank's sake, perhaps, but... "Why don't you think Joe'll go with you?"
"Oh, c'mon, Cal—" Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Joe doesn't talk about it, but you know I know about Iola. I'm just a stand-in for her, and I doubt that he wants to go to the SnowBall with a replacement!"
"Vanessa, you're not just a stand-in for Iola!" Callie argued. "Joe really likes you; don't sell yourself short!"
Vanessa snorted derisively. "If there's anything I'm not, it's short!" She received a fluffy throw pillow in the face for that comment; she clutched it tightly against herself and rolled over on her stomach. "He likes me, but does he like me enough to...let go of her?"
Callie sighed. "I don't know – want me to sound Frank out, see if he can get anything from Joe?"
"Would you, Cal?" Vanessa sounded almost pathetically grateful.
"I'll try," the other blonde assured her friend.
#####
Even at football practice Joe found he couldn't escape the subject of that darned SnowBall! No matter how he tried to concentrate on play options, running patterns, signals – no matter how he tried to ignore the casual chatter between plays, he couldn't help picking up on the conversation. Biff – faux-complaining about having to match a corsage to Karen's dress, "and what if she goes strapless? How can I pin a corsage on then?" Chet – wondering if he could still fit in a size 42 tux. Even Frank, although he seemed to have picked up on Joe's unease with the conversation, and tried to turn it to other topics a couple of times – even Frank was muttering something about cummerbunds having to go with Callie's dress, and how he guessed that dark green was okay – better than some colors, anyway..."After all, she could've decided to wear lavender, or something!"
"Hey, Joe – Vanessa asked you to the dance yet?"
Joe looked up, surprised at the question and who it had come from. He'd never have thought Chet Morton would ask that! "Um...no, no she hasn't mentioned it," he mumbled self-consciously. Maybe all his worries were needless anyway, he thought. Maybe Vanessa wasn't intending on asking him!
That bothered him. And the fact that it bothered him...bothered him!
If she asks...what do I say? I do want to go with her...don't I?
#####
Frank noticed Joe was uncharacteristically quiet on the way home from football practice, staring out the side window and seemingly deep in thought. He doubted that his younger brother was thinking about football, either! The regular season was done, but Bayport had a state playoff game approaching. Naturally, they hoped to win. The problem with the state playoffs, however, was that the final game to determine the state championship was held in the afternoon of the second Saturday in December – the same day as the annual SnowBall! Of course for any team from a different city, it made no difference, but to the Bayporters, it was important.
That scheduling meant that football players who were also going to the dance had a very tight time frame, and absolutely no extra pre-dance activities. They'd barely make it home in time to get cleaned up and dressed and pick up their dates for the obligatory picture-taking session before dinner – and hope that no bruises or contusions from the game showed up in the photos!
"Whaddya think, are we going to take Ridgeley down or not?" Frank figured that Joe would respond to a football question, even if he was being moody.
"Huh?" The younger boy slowly turned from his contemplation of the passing scenery. "Will we beat Ridgeley?"
"Yeah," Frank encouraged.
Joe considered it seriously a moment or two. "We have a good shot at it," he conceded, "but Ridgeley's unbeaten, and we've got a couple of losses."
"Early in the season, though," his older brother reminded him. "We're better now."
"We can probably take them, but it will be a close match. Of course, if we lose to Ridgeley, nobody'll have to worry about the championship game conflicting with the dance," Joe said offhandedly. He kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of the van.
I knew it! He's thinking about the SnowBall – and the fact that Vanessa hasn't asked him yet! Frank thought in triumph. This would be the perfect time for him to do as Callie had requested – to get some idea whether or not Joe would accept an invitation from Vanessa to the dance! "True," he said aloud, "that would take a lot of the pressure off of the guys. Not enough to want to lose to Ridgeley, though!" he added hastily, afraid that Joe might think he was being disloyal to the team.
Joe made an amused sound – not quite a chuckle, but close – but didn't say anything more.
"You think Vanessa's going to ask you to the dance?" Frank bit his lip and silently berated himself for the inadvertent slip. He certainly hadn't meant to just blurt it out like that! He sneaked a quick glance at the quiet figure in the passenger seat.
"I dunno," was Joe's response. After a long, silent moment he continued: "Frank – if she does ask me...should I go?"
#####
"Frank – what did you find out? Do you think Joe would go to SnowBall with Vanessa if she asked him?" Callie had barely let him in the door before she pounced on him with her questions.
Frank looked down at his girlfriend in amazement. "How in the – Callie, are you psychic or something?"
"Not that I know of – why?" she asked, her eyes brimming with laughter.
"Because he asked me if he ought to say yes if she asked him, just this afternoon!" he explained.
"And what did you tell him?" Callie demanded. "Vanessa's afraid to ask him; she's afraid he won't go with her because of...of...Iola," she finished softly.
Frank shook his head doubtfully. "I didn't know what to tell him," he admitted. "Personally, I think he ought to say 'yes' and go with her, and get on with his life...but that sounds awfully callous, doesn't it? I couldn't just come out and say that without making it sound like I'm trying to forget Iola. So I just said something dumb like 'do what feels right.' Talk about lame!"
Callie sighed. "What a mess," she murmured. "Iola wouldn't have wanted something like this, you know. I mean – we were best friends for years; I knew her pretty well. She would want Joe to be happy – she'd hate to know that he was crawling around being miserable and guilt-ridden for the rest of his life!"
Frank stared at his girlfriend, dark eyes narrowed in thought. Something she said had clicked in his mind. "Callie, do you think Chet shares your opinion? She was his sister – he knew her better than anyone else. What would he think if Joe went with Vanessa? He's going, after all!"
#####
Another week passed, and still the question of the SnowBall wasn't resolved for Joe. When he'd asked Frank's opinion, the older boy had hedged – uncharacteristically – and basically told Joe he was on his own as far as making the decision. Of course, the younger Hardy reminded himself sardonically, there may not be any decision to make, since Vanessa hasn't said 'boo' about the dance anyway! Whoopeee! Some Christmas dance, huh? Happy Holidays, Joe – NO ONE wants to take you to the dance, looks like!
###
The football game with Ridgeley High was hard-fought, well-played, evenly-matched...and settled the question of whether or not the Bayport football players had to squeeze in dinner and a formal dance after a championship game. When the game clock expired, the score read: RIDGELEY HIGH – 33. BAYPORT HIGH – 30. Ridgeley won, on a last-second, 39-yard field goal. The Bayporters trailed disconsolately off the field, exchanging lackluster handshakes with their opponents, muttering 'good game, good game, good luck in the next one,' as they walked.
"Well," Frank said encouragingly as the team members gloomily showered and changed into street clothes in the locker room, "we gave it our best shot. They beat us, but it took everything they could throw at us. We've got nothing to be ashamed of."
"If I hadn't dropped that one pass of yours—" Joe started, feeling guilty, but Frank cut him off.
"Not listening, kid brother. I could say, 'if I'd been more accurate with my passing' too, or 'if I hadn't gotten caught and sacked twice' – but I'm not going to. I did the best I could; you did the best you could." He looked around at his teammates. "We all did. Good season, guys. Everyone heading to Mr. Pizza?" At the affirmative nods, he went on: "Joe, I'm gonna meet Callie and go in her car. You can take the van. See ya there, okay?" He picked up his coat and went out the door.
After these encouraging – and dismissive – words from their starting quarterback and acknowledged team leader, the rest of the boys went about getting showered and dressed less glumly. After awhile there was even some of the customary teasing and locker-room horseplay, and things looked to be back to normal with the Bayport High football team.
Joe perched on the edge of a bench to pull on his sneakers, and found himself seated next to Chet Morton.
"Lookin' forward to that pizza," the husky center commented as he tied his own shoes. "I've been trying to stay on Coach's training diet, and I've gotta say, I'm just as glad we're not playing two weeks from now...I'm ready for some real food!"
"Better be careful," Joe teased, "or you won't fit in that size 42 tux you were griping about last week!"
Chet made a rueful face. "The pants expand - luckily."
Joe had finished with his shoes, but made no move to get up. He had suddenly realized that Chet just might be the person who could help him with his quandary. "Chet – could I talk to you for a minute?"
Chet eyed him, struck by the suddenly-somber tone of Joe's voice. "Sure, Joe..." He got to his feet and picked up his coat. "Let's walk out to the parking lot," he suggested.
Joe nodded and followed him, slipping his own jacket on as they left the locker room. "That works; I'm meeting Vanessa there."
"Okay, what's the problem?" Chet asked, once the two were on the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.
"It's...SnowBall," Joe muttered. "I think Vanessa is going to ask me to go with her, but..."
"But?"
"But..." Joe hesitated, trying to organize his chaotic thoughts into words that made sense. "Chet – how would it make you feel, if I went to the dance with Vanessa? Would you think I wasn't – that I was – would I be wrong to go? Would I be...disloyal...to Iola and her memory?"
Chet let out a soft, almost soundless, whistle. "Heavy question, Joe," he admitted. They walked a little further in silence – but not an unfriendly silence, merely a thoughtful one. Finally Chet cleared his throat and spoke:
"I know that you loved Iola," he began, "and she loved you, too. I think she'd had her heart set on you from about seventh grade on."
Joe sighed. "Yeah," he murmured, smiling a little despite his sorrow. "I think she did."
"And I know you've honestly mourned her," Chet went on. "We all have, of course – Mom and Dad and me, you, Frank, Callie, the rest of the gang we hang with. You more than anyone else, except me and my folks."
"Mmm-hmmm..."
"But Joe—" Chet stopped walking and turned to face his friend. "I think I'm pretty safe in saying that you aren't supposed to shut yourself up in a dark room and never enjoy life again, now that Iola's...gone. She wouldn't have wanted you to do that."
"But—"
"But nothing," Chet overrode him. "She wanted you to be happy, Joe. She liked you to be happy! With her, if possible, of course – but you can bet she'd have given you holy heck if she thought you were going to go into lifelong mourning for her! She was my sister, and I knew her temper...and if you think about it, you'll know it's true."
Joe thought about it. "Maybe so," he conceded. Iola had been a no-nonsense sort of girl.
"And one more thing to think about," Chet said, "if that car bombing had gone as planned...if you'd been killed instead of Iola – or you and Frank had been killed...would you, Joe, have wanted Iola to mourn you for the rest of her life and refuse to try for happiness with anyone else? Or would you have wanted her to go on living and be happy?"
"Well, of course I'd—" Joe stopped, then began to grin. "Chet, you're something else! Of course I would want her to go on and be happy – although I'd like to think she'd miss me for a little while, at least!" he added with a small chuckle.
The other boy slapped him on the shoulder. "She'd have missed you, Joe. She'd have missed you... So, if Vanessa asks you to SnowBall – you say yes!"
#####
"Hey, you played a great game – too bad Ridgeley got that darned field goal!" Vanessa had been waiting for him, leaning against the Hardys' black van. She held out both her gloved hands and Joe took them in his, drawing her up against him. She was wearing jeans and boots, and her old flame-colored down parka, the one she'd worn the first time he'd ever seen her, and her hair streamed down over her shoulders in the same way it had then. He smiled a little at the memory, and hugged her. She gave him a swift peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Joe; I know you must be disappointed."
"It's okay," he assured her. He squeezed her again, briefly, then unlocked the van so they could climb in. "I'm not as disappointed as I thought I would be. As Frank said, we did our best, we made Ridgeley earn the win. We didn't do anything wrong, they just managed to beat us. We had a good season and we have nothing to be ashamed of."
He inserted the key into the ignition and started the motor, but didn't put the van in gear. "Let's wait a minute for the heater to start working, okay? Anyway, about the game...Besides—" He couldn't help feeling a little fluttery, like he was about to step off a sharp drop-off. "this way it doesn't interfere with people who are dated for SnowBall – right?" He held his breath. What would Vanessa say? How would she respond to the very obvious lead he'd given her?
Vanessa remained silent for a few moments, and Joe was beginning to wonder whether he'd been mistaken about her intentions, when she finally spoke, her normally confident voice very quiet and hesitant:
"Yeah – that does make it easier, doesn't it? And since you mentioned SnowBall – I was wondering, Joe...I mean, I was hoping that...maybe you'd...Um...would you like to be my date for SnowBall?"
He turned towards her and smiled, reaching for her hand again. "Vanessa, babe – I would love to."
#####
"Wow! You look...amazing!" Joe blurted out. He couldn't take his eyes off the vision in front of him.
Vanessa revolved slowly, showing off her dress from all angles, as Andrea Bender smilingly looked on.
Joe gulped. Iola had looked like a grown-up version of the Snow Babies figurines his mother had – all in sparkly, fluffy white, with her dark curls and eyes a startling contrast. Vanessa, on the other hand, looked...Oh wow...No Snow Baby here! No, this is more 'Ice, Ice Baby!'
Her dress was...blue. Light blue, although he vaguely remembered Vanessa saying it was 'ice blue.' Joe was no Gianni Versace, but he knew light blue when he saw it. It wasn't quite strapless, although it certainly didn't seem to have much holding it up! Thankfully, Frank had solved that little problem by introducing his younger brother to the concept of wrist corsages!
It was...soft. And it clung in all the right places to Vanessa's slenderness. Where it didn't cling, it...swished. And sort of...floated. And sparkled.
Vanessa's long, ash-blonde hair, which she usually wore hanging straight, had been pulled up into an intricate arrangement of curls and dangling wisps, and a glittering silver ornament. She looks...regal! Joe marveled. Faced with Vanessa's cool elegance, he felt almost as shy as he'd been at age 15! Just where had all his vaunted savoir faire and easy flirting gone?
"Won't you be – kinda – cold?" he ventured, flushing a little. "I mean – it's like – 25 degrees outside, Van!" Nervously, he eyed her bare shoulders.
"I have a coat, silly," she laughed. "Besides, I'm expecting my date to keep me warm. Do you think he will?" She batted her eyelashes at him teasingly.
Joe nodded, and gulped again.
Still flushed, he obligingly posed for the numerous pictures that Andrea insisted on taking of him and Vanessa, and finally they made their escape into the dark chill of the December night. They still had to stop by Joe's house, to meet Frank and Callie and to have more photos taken, before going on to join the rest of their friends for dinner prior to the actual dance.
"Joe?" Vanessa spoke softly over the bouncy strains of "Sleighride" which poured from the van's radio speakers.
"Yeah?" He turned his head to smile briefly at the beauty sitting in his passenger seat.
"Thank you."
"For what?" He grinned, slightly puzzled.
"For saying yes to the invitation. For dating me for this dance." Vanessa smiled wistfully. "I was afraid to ask you – I was afraid you wouldn't go with me."
Driving with one hand, Joe reached out and picked up her hand with the other, and interlaced their fingers. "I always wanted to go with you, babe. I just wasn't sure I should. But Chet set me straight."
"Chet did?"
"Uh-huh. He reminded me that...that Iola...she wouldn't have wanted me to crawl into a shell and refuse to try and be happy, just because she died. And he asked me if I'd have wanted her to do that, if I'd been the one killed in the explosion."
Vanessa shuddered at the thought, and squeezed Joe's hand tightly. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered.
"Me too, babe – me too."
Yes, Joe thought to himself as he drove through the brightly lit and decorated streets of Bayport towards his home, he was very glad he was here. A few months back, if asked, he'd have given himself the proverbial 'snowball's chance in hell' of ever being happy again, of ever finding another girl he could love.
But here she was and here he was – and he knew he had, without doubt and against all the odds, a SnowBall's chance for happiness and love.
The End