Frank was just settling into bed when he heard the phone ring again. He threw off the blankets and dashed out of the room and to his father's office.
"Hello? Joe?"
Joe explained what had happened, and Frank snatched a pen and paper to take notes.
"But you're not hurt, right?"
Joe chuckled, "Sheesh, you're worse than Mom. No, I'm perfectly fine. We've already called Paul to let him know what happened. He's coming back here once Eli gets settled in the hospital."
"Well, we'll look up the plate at the police station tomorrow," Frank explained, "but there's probably nothing more we can do tonight. Do you have a place to sleep?"
"Yeah," Joe answered, "apparently the guys crash on the couch here all the time, whenever their home situations get too messy. I think Randy is staying here too tonight."
"Good. Keep an eye on each other, and call again if anything else happens. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
There was a slight pause before Joe said, "I think we should keep up the act that I'm with the greasers tomorrow. Just in case the attacker is watching the school."
"You just want an excuse to avoid me, don't you?"
Joe made a mocking noise and hung up without another word.
Frank set down the receiver, smiling. "Punk kid," he said to himself, shaking his head. He quickly fell back to reality.
Three attacks so far. Two guys his age were in the hospital, and for all Frank knew, Joe could be next.