Highway from Hell
Chatpter Three
When Frank had left Joe, he was hurt but by the time he arrived home he was boiling mad. Joe had acted like this was his fault. He never would have have let anyone do this to Joe, but then, he hadn't been there to prevent it either, he thought. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. How was he going to tell his parents Joe didn't want anything to do with any of them anymore? After five minutes, still seething, Frank got out of the van and went inside the house.
"Hi, honey," said his petite, blond-headed, blue-eyed mother as she met him at the front door. "What's wrong?" she demanded, her face losing color as she saw Frank's agitated one.
"Where's Dad?" he asked, not answering her immediately.
"Here," brown-haired, brown-eyed Fenton Hardy said, coming into view. "Easy, Laura," he said to his wife, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. He looked at Frank quizzically. Frank never spoke so Fenton turned and led Laura back into the living room and sat down on the sofa with her.
Frank came into the living room and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of his parents. "Joe doesn't want us to visit him anymore," he said over the lump in his throat.
"Why?" whispered Laura, tears falling from her eyes.
Frank shook his head. "I don't know," he replied, still trying to figure that one out himself. "Maybe the heroin has affected his brain," he suggested.
"Or someone at the foundation has," Fenton stated, his eyes hard as steel.
"What?" Frank asked in confusion.
"Your brother's very vulnerable now," Fenton explained. "First he hit this rebellious stage and I had to issue a punishment where the end result was his being hooked on heroin." Frank and Laura interrupted at this point, both insisting he wasn't to blame. Fenton finally held up a hand requesting silence. "It doesn't matter," he continued. "Joe probably thinks I am and that's what counts. If he does feel that way, then all it would have taken is for one person to say something to him about me or any of us and Joe would be ready to sever any ties with us."
"You're wrong," Frank told him. "Something else is going on because Joe would never..."
"But he did," Laura said softly, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She stood up. "I think I'll go upstairs," she said in a strangled voice.
After she had left the room Frank looked over at his father. "I want to go in," he said.
"What?" Fenton demanded, startled.
"I want to be a patient at the Dulcimer Foundation," Frank explained. "No matter what Joe thinks, he needs us. I am not going to sit here and do nothing while someone turns him against us," he insisted angrily when his father shook his head.
"You're not an addict," Fenton reminded Frank a bit gently because he knew how much Frank was hurting.
"There has to be something I could take to make it look like I was addicted," Frank insisted. "I'm sure of it. Eye drops from the optomitrist and syrup of ipecac if it comes down to it."
Fenton looked at the set expression on Frank's face. "You would have to go in undercover," he said. "No one would believe it, least of all Joe."
"How soon?" Frank demanded.
"Let me call a friend of mine," Fenton said, rising. "Karen Taylor used to work at the rehab foundation," he informed Frank. "She should be able to help us."
Joe stood in the shadows outside the cafeteria, waiting for Toots. It had been almost nine hours since Frank had left and he had recovered from his laspe of composure. The worst over, Joe was ready for anything. He had to be. Another laspe could be fatal. He heard footsteps and turned to look in the direction of the sound. Toots came into view followed by Ken.
"What is this?" Joe demanded angrily, starting to brush past them.
"Easy Joe," Toots said, laughing as she grabbed his arm. "Ken is my friend," she said in a manner which left Joe in no doubt who her supplier was. Joe looked at Ken with suspicion.
"I take care of my friends," Ken told Joe, smiling. "And I'm sure you and I will be good ones."
"What's in it for you?" Joe asked, looking at the piece of foil Ken held up to him hungrily.
In the past few hours Joe had picked up a lot. He now knew that heroin was melted and placed on foil, called a blob, that was then smoked. He also had found out that a G-shot was a small dose used to hold off withdrawal symptoms until a full dose could be taken.
"When you get outside, you see a friend of mine," Ken answered Joe. "He takes your business."
"Who?" Joe asked, still looking at the blob.
"You'll find out when you need to," Ken said. "Well?" he asked, waving the blob enticingly.
Joe held out his hand for the foil. "Friends," Joe said.
Ken pulled it out of reach. "Where did you get your fix earlier?" he asked.
Joe's blue eyes hardened and he dropped his hand. "Forget it," he snarled. "I don't rat." He started to shove his way past them again, but Ken put a restraining hand on Joe's left shoulder. Joe froze, ready for a rumble if that's what it came down to.
"You just passed," Ken told him, and handed the blob to Joe. Toots was already smoking hers. "Be in your rooms at lights out," Ken ordered Joe and Toots before leaving them alone.
"I feel so much better," Toots purred. "Need some help?" she asked, looking at Joe who hadn't started his yet.
Before Joe could answer a scruffy looking black-haired boy, about nineteen years old, came shuffling down the corridor. He was rubbing his nose as he approached them. "Where's the dormitory?" he demanded hoarsely of the two as he reached them, his blue eyes narrowing as he watched Joe quickly hide something. "What are you two doing?" he demanded.
"The dormitory is the other way," Joe told him, his back up. "Go back down the corridor, take a left and then the fourth right," Joe told him.
He and Toots waited for him to leave but he never. "I'm Tony," he said.
Toots looked at Joe's face which held annoyance and moved over to Tony. "I'll show you," she said sweetly, giving Joe a conspiritorial wink. "I'm Toots. Where you the guy who came in yesterday?" she asked as they walked away.
Joe never heard the reply but gave a sigh of relief as he realized the unwitting Tony had just helped him out of a jam. Now all he needed was a place to get rid of the blob. He waited a few minutes and plastered a dumb smile on his face, similar to the one Toots had and headed for the bathroom. Inside, he rolled the blob up in some toilet paper and flushed it, watching to make sure it went down. Then he headed back toward the dormitory and his bed.
He had made his first real contact and he should be feeling great but instead, his mind kept replaying the look on Frank's face when he had told him to stay away. Joe sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes. He wanted a shower but the patients here didn't like to clean up much and since he had a shower yesterday afternoon afterhe'd been sick, he felt it wise to hold off at least one more day. Joe lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Tony, who had taken the bed next to Joe's, sat up and looked over at Joe. "You and Toots got something going on?" he asked.
"Ain't none of your business either way," Joe retorted.
"Chill man," Tony ordered.
"Leave me alone," Joe told him, turning over so his back was to Tony. Taking the hint, Tony lay back down.
Joe awoke early the next morning and took a shower then put on the same jeans ans dhirt he had worn for the past two days. He had clean clothes which his parents had brought over when he had been admitted, but he didn't want to be out of place so he refused to wear them.
As he was leaving the dormitory, he heard Ken giving Tony down the road for staying in bed. By the time Joe reached the cafeteria, the place was already crowded. Joe took his tray and sat down. He stared at the burnt toast and watery scrambled eggs. He picked up a piece of bacon and bit it in half. By the time he had finished his bacon, Tony had joined him. Joe picked up his spoon and began scraping the black off the bread. He mangled it beyond consumption so he started on the second one but Tony beat him to it.
Tony took Joe's other piece of toast and scraped off the black in a matter of seconds.
"What are you?" Joe demanded angrily. "A leech?" He felt terrible treating Tony this way, but another inmate would never have let Tony get away with it, so he couldn't either.
"I was just trying to help out," Tony defended himself. "My mom always burns the toast."
"Leave - me - a- lone," Joe told him once again, slowly and distinctly. Then he got up, emptied his tray, and left the cafeteria.
Tony followed Joe out of the cafeteria and down the corridor. He slowed down as he saw Ken stop Joe. They spoke and Joe followed Ken into one of the rooms. He crept down and peered around the corner. He watched Ken hand Joe something. Joe thanked Ken and smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of the thing Ken had given him. Tony hurried away from the door and out of sight as Joe left Ken and headed for the bathroom.
Joe went into the bathroom and after making sure no one was around, he peeled off some toilet paper and wrapped the blob up and dropped it into the toilet. After watching it go down, he turned around and saw Tony staring at him in disbelief.
Chatpter Three
When Frank had left Joe, he was hurt but by the time he arrived home he was boiling mad. Joe had acted like this was his fault. He never would have have let anyone do this to Joe, but then, he hadn't been there to prevent it either, he thought. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. How was he going to tell his parents Joe didn't want anything to do with any of them anymore? After five minutes, still seething, Frank got out of the van and went inside the house.
"Hi, honey," said his petite, blond-headed, blue-eyed mother as she met him at the front door. "What's wrong?" she demanded, her face losing color as she saw Frank's agitated one.
"Where's Dad?" he asked, not answering her immediately.
"Here," brown-haired, brown-eyed Fenton Hardy said, coming into view. "Easy, Laura," he said to his wife, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. He looked at Frank quizzically. Frank never spoke so Fenton turned and led Laura back into the living room and sat down on the sofa with her.
Frank came into the living room and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of his parents. "Joe doesn't want us to visit him anymore," he said over the lump in his throat.
"Why?" whispered Laura, tears falling from her eyes.
Frank shook his head. "I don't know," he replied, still trying to figure that one out himself. "Maybe the heroin has affected his brain," he suggested.
"Or someone at the foundation has," Fenton stated, his eyes hard as steel.
"What?" Frank asked in confusion.
"Your brother's very vulnerable now," Fenton explained. "First he hit this rebellious stage and I had to issue a punishment where the end result was his being hooked on heroin." Frank and Laura interrupted at this point, both insisting he wasn't to blame. Fenton finally held up a hand requesting silence. "It doesn't matter," he continued. "Joe probably thinks I am and that's what counts. If he does feel that way, then all it would have taken is for one person to say something to him about me or any of us and Joe would be ready to sever any ties with us."
"You're wrong," Frank told him. "Something else is going on because Joe would never..."
"But he did," Laura said softly, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She stood up. "I think I'll go upstairs," she said in a strangled voice.
After she had left the room Frank looked over at his father. "I want to go in," he said.
"What?" Fenton demanded, startled.
"I want to be a patient at the Dulcimer Foundation," Frank explained. "No matter what Joe thinks, he needs us. I am not going to sit here and do nothing while someone turns him against us," he insisted angrily when his father shook his head.
"You're not an addict," Fenton reminded Frank a bit gently because he knew how much Frank was hurting.
"There has to be something I could take to make it look like I was addicted," Frank insisted. "I'm sure of it. Eye drops from the optomitrist and syrup of ipecac if it comes down to it."
Fenton looked at the set expression on Frank's face. "You would have to go in undercover," he said. "No one would believe it, least of all Joe."
"How soon?" Frank demanded.
"Let me call a friend of mine," Fenton said, rising. "Karen Taylor used to work at the rehab foundation," he informed Frank. "She should be able to help us."
Joe stood in the shadows outside the cafeteria, waiting for Toots. It had been almost nine hours since Frank had left and he had recovered from his laspe of composure. The worst over, Joe was ready for anything. He had to be. Another laspe could be fatal. He heard footsteps and turned to look in the direction of the sound. Toots came into view followed by Ken.
"What is this?" Joe demanded angrily, starting to brush past them.
"Easy Joe," Toots said, laughing as she grabbed his arm. "Ken is my friend," she said in a manner which left Joe in no doubt who her supplier was. Joe looked at Ken with suspicion.
"I take care of my friends," Ken told Joe, smiling. "And I'm sure you and I will be good ones."
"What's in it for you?" Joe asked, looking at the piece of foil Ken held up to him hungrily.
In the past few hours Joe had picked up a lot. He now knew that heroin was melted and placed on foil, called a blob, that was then smoked. He also had found out that a G-shot was a small dose used to hold off withdrawal symptoms until a full dose could be taken.
"When you get outside, you see a friend of mine," Ken answered Joe. "He takes your business."
"Who?" Joe asked, still looking at the blob.
"You'll find out when you need to," Ken said. "Well?" he asked, waving the blob enticingly.
Joe held out his hand for the foil. "Friends," Joe said.
Ken pulled it out of reach. "Where did you get your fix earlier?" he asked.
Joe's blue eyes hardened and he dropped his hand. "Forget it," he snarled. "I don't rat." He started to shove his way past them again, but Ken put a restraining hand on Joe's left shoulder. Joe froze, ready for a rumble if that's what it came down to.
"You just passed," Ken told him, and handed the blob to Joe. Toots was already smoking hers. "Be in your rooms at lights out," Ken ordered Joe and Toots before leaving them alone.
"I feel so much better," Toots purred. "Need some help?" she asked, looking at Joe who hadn't started his yet.
Before Joe could answer a scruffy looking black-haired boy, about nineteen years old, came shuffling down the corridor. He was rubbing his nose as he approached them. "Where's the dormitory?" he demanded hoarsely of the two as he reached them, his blue eyes narrowing as he watched Joe quickly hide something. "What are you two doing?" he demanded.
"The dormitory is the other way," Joe told him, his back up. "Go back down the corridor, take a left and then the fourth right," Joe told him.
He and Toots waited for him to leave but he never. "I'm Tony," he said.
Toots looked at Joe's face which held annoyance and moved over to Tony. "I'll show you," she said sweetly, giving Joe a conspiritorial wink. "I'm Toots. Where you the guy who came in yesterday?" she asked as they walked away.
Joe never heard the reply but gave a sigh of relief as he realized the unwitting Tony had just helped him out of a jam. Now all he needed was a place to get rid of the blob. He waited a few minutes and plastered a dumb smile on his face, similar to the one Toots had and headed for the bathroom. Inside, he rolled the blob up in some toilet paper and flushed it, watching to make sure it went down. Then he headed back toward the dormitory and his bed.
He had made his first real contact and he should be feeling great but instead, his mind kept replaying the look on Frank's face when he had told him to stay away. Joe sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes. He wanted a shower but the patients here didn't like to clean up much and since he had a shower yesterday afternoon afterhe'd been sick, he felt it wise to hold off at least one more day. Joe lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Tony, who had taken the bed next to Joe's, sat up and looked over at Joe. "You and Toots got something going on?" he asked.
"Ain't none of your business either way," Joe retorted.
"Chill man," Tony ordered.
"Leave me alone," Joe told him, turning over so his back was to Tony. Taking the hint, Tony lay back down.
Joe awoke early the next morning and took a shower then put on the same jeans ans dhirt he had worn for the past two days. He had clean clothes which his parents had brought over when he had been admitted, but he didn't want to be out of place so he refused to wear them.
As he was leaving the dormitory, he heard Ken giving Tony down the road for staying in bed. By the time Joe reached the cafeteria, the place was already crowded. Joe took his tray and sat down. He stared at the burnt toast and watery scrambled eggs. He picked up a piece of bacon and bit it in half. By the time he had finished his bacon, Tony had joined him. Joe picked up his spoon and began scraping the black off the bread. He mangled it beyond consumption so he started on the second one but Tony beat him to it.
Tony took Joe's other piece of toast and scraped off the black in a matter of seconds.
"What are you?" Joe demanded angrily. "A leech?" He felt terrible treating Tony this way, but another inmate would never have let Tony get away with it, so he couldn't either.
"I was just trying to help out," Tony defended himself. "My mom always burns the toast."
"Leave - me - a- lone," Joe told him once again, slowly and distinctly. Then he got up, emptied his tray, and left the cafeteria.
Tony followed Joe out of the cafeteria and down the corridor. He slowed down as he saw Ken stop Joe. They spoke and Joe followed Ken into one of the rooms. He crept down and peered around the corner. He watched Ken hand Joe something. Joe thanked Ken and smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of the thing Ken had given him. Tony hurried away from the door and out of sight as Joe left Ken and headed for the bathroom.
Joe went into the bathroom and after making sure no one was around, he peeled off some toilet paper and wrapped the blob up and dropped it into the toilet. After watching it go down, he turned around and saw Tony staring at him in disbelief.