Hi- glad you like it Here's the next chapter. Bhar: Thanks, I was worried about the writing being too corny. As a woman, its a little hard to write from a guy's perspective.

Growing Pains

by Jolly & Soda

CHAPTER 11:

34 hours later, Sunday, 12 p.m.:

Fenton Hardy sat at the head of the investigators' table, his long-time partner, Sam Radley by his side. His expression was grim, his eyes dark with barely suppressed fury.

His youngest son had almost died, again.

The preliminary lab report had confirmed that the young girl, Phailin was right that the hot chocolate had contained cyanide. Cyanide smells like almonds. However, only 10 of the population was genetically able to smell it.

Fenton supposed it was fortunate that she was one of the few who could. But he couldn't help but feel curious about how a young girl like her would have knowledge of such a poison.

Somkid had answered his curiosity, telling them about his time as a fighter in the underground fighting circuit in Southeast Asia and the few attempts on his life. That was how his daughter was familiar with this particular poison. It seemed that this young lady had almost as interesting a life as his sons.

And they were no closer to finding the leak.

Fenton glared at the piles of notes before him again. There must be something he missed in there somewhere.

O

Frank sat with the 'kids', but kept an anxious eye on his dad. He was torn between wanting to stay on the side of the 'kids', and going to help his Dad – but doing so would mean he went over to the side of the 'adults'. Maybe not the 'adults', but the 'authorities'. But Frank knew these 'kids' here needed that emotional support, so he stayed with them, no matter how he wished otherwise.

And Frank started thinking about the latest incident and what that meant for the mole. The attempt poisoning right inside the FBI headquarters had highlighted the fact that he or she must be getting desperate.

What was he missing? Frank mused. Why was the mole feeling more desperate when it was clear that the case had become shakier?

Then he saw Joe, Harry and Phailin whispering to each other. He wondered what they were discussing, but was reluctant to impose himself on their privacy. Instead, he made a mental note to ask Joe about it later, provided of course that it would not require Joe to break a confidence.

Then it hit him. They must have kept something. And that something was the threat. And from the way Joe was talking, it was clear he had realized that something and was trying to persuade the others.

If it had been last time, Frank would have cut in and insisted Joe tell him what he was hiding. But now, he waited and marveled at how the last 24 hours had changed his perspectives and himself.

For one, he came to realize how much of Joe's exuberance and zest for life had infected their close-knit group of friends. Without Joe, everyone was still close, but the group just somehow lacked the vibrancy and joy for life that Joe had easily infused with his mere presence.

And two, he learned about partnership and teamwork. That realization had initially surprised him. Joe's narration of 'The Great Escape' last night was most entertaining, but more importantly enlightening. His little brother had praises for every one, even the littlest kid, for even the tiniest thing each did to contribute to the escape. Joe had downplayed his own role and attributed the key success element of the escape to Phailin, his second-in-command's, ability to purloin the sleeping pills from their captors.

And in the light of Joe's modesty, Frank had felt humbled by his younger brother's generosity of spirit.

Patience, Frank reminded himself for the hundredth time, and was finally rewarded.

They turned to him, and invited him into their confidence.

And he was right; the final pieces of the puzzle that he was looking for finally fell into place.

OHBHBHBHBO

One week earlier:

Joe Hardy stood before the goal post in the soccer field doing his warm-ups. The rest of his teammates were practicing their dribbling and passing. Then, the referee blew the whistle, and everyone took their positions on the field. Shinji had given him the thumbs up before striding over to his position as the key striker for their team.

Today was the last day of school, and this soccer match was the final game of the semester, rounding up a fortnight of inter-house games. Inter-house games were held each semester in the final fortnight of the school, and began right after the last paper of the examinations period. It obviously gave the students something to look forward to after the exams, and gave the teachers time to grade the papers.

And this was an important match for West Tower, for winning the soccer match also meant that they had enough points to become the champion house for the semester.

Red Creek Towers had four houses (North, South, East, and West) in total, each named for the residential hall where the students lived. Joe had joined the West Tower team, where Shinji resided, and where Mr. Pan was the sports coach.

Joe was initially annoyed that Mr. Pan had placed him as the goal keeper. He had felt chained to the goal post. He wanted to be on the offensive, to be out there chasing the ball and scoring. Just like when he was the wide receiver on his football team back in Bayport.

But Mr. Pan had pointed out Joe had the tendency to go offside, and had said his skills as a receiver made him perfect for the position of goalkeeper. After the first game, Joe realized that the old man was right! No one had managed to score against West Tower so far.

All Joe did was to imagine each shot at goal by the opponent was a pass by the quarterback to him. And he caught every single one. Joe grinned. He was becoming rather creative at learning himself!

Shinji scored the first goal, and then the second. When the match was over, the score stood at 2-0. Both he and Shinji were hailed players of the match.

Joe could not help but sneak a peek at Mr. Pan as his teammates hoisted him off to the celebratory parties. The look of pride on the old man's face had meant everything to Joe.

For a moment, Joe wondered why that was so important to him. Then it surprised him to discover that he had not missed his beloved sports at all this semester. With that came the realization that he had invested so much in his sporting activities only because he was subconsciously looking for approval and praise from his family. He worked hard to excel in them so that his parents could be proud of his achievements. Just like they were proud of Frank's academic performance.

But the more time he spent on sports, the less time he had for his studies. And the poorer his grades, the more his parents were concerned. The whole thing had become a vicious cycle.

Suddenly, Joe felt he understood what Buddha must have felt when he attained enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree. Joe had suddenly felt … free.

O

Much later that night, Mr. Pan and Joe had their own private celebration. Mr. Pan had seen the look on Joe's face after the match, and knew Joe had come to certain understandings. He also knew that Joe would be going home very soon.

It will be difficult to let him go, the old man realized.

After supper, Mr. Pan passed Joe an envelope. It was from the New York Times. Joe had opened it and found a check for $600. The newspaper had accepted two of his pieces of artwork, and stated that they would be published the following week.

"I thought what you did was great," Mr. Pan told Joe. "So I sent them to one of my former students who now work at the New York Times, under the pen-name Joe the Brat."

Mr. Pan paused, and drank in the look of disbelief on Joe's face, and laughed.

"You made it as a spot cartoonist, and with NYT, no less. I've always said you are a talented lad, and I can't be more proud to have you as my disciple. Remember that. Always."

Joe blushed. It had not occurred to him that he was good enough for that. But his Shifu obviously did.

"This is what you are capable of, what you could be. More important, however, is how you could use what you could be, to become what you want to be. Don't you think?"

With that, the old man excused himself and went off to bed, leaving Joe to ponder over what exactly his Shifu was saying to him.

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