CHAPTER 3

Frank was shocked. He couldn't believe his ears by what he was hearing. "W-What have I done?" he stammered.

"Vandalism!"

"What?"

Mr. Shelbrooke looked at him furiously. "Don't pretend you don't know, Mr. Hardy! Summers and Cornell have to shutdown the school server because of your doing!"

"Mr. Shelbrooke, if you could calm down, maybe you could tell me what's going on. I've no idea what you're talking about," Frank said, trying to calm himself, too. He took a deep breath.

"Calm down?" the principal echoed, looking darkly at Frank. "Looks like you still refuse to come clean. Try clicking the refresh button in your brain, Mr. Hardy. Does that trigger anything about sending a virus-infected email to me?" he prompted, looking at Frank levelly.

"I certainly did not send you any emails today," Frank denied honestly, looking surprised. "Whoever that was must have set up his/her email account using my name."

"That's not what I hear from Summers and Cornell's report," he retorted. Without wasting time, he pressed a buzzer on his phone. "Ms. Thompson, get Summers and Cornell here immediately!" he barked to his secretary.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door. The principal called the person to come in.

A man and a woman entered the room. Frank recognized the man, George Summers, the school system administrator, but he didn't recognize the woman, though. Frank sometimes helped George setting up the school computer lab.

"I think you already knew Mr. Summers, Hardy," Mr. Shelbrooke said pointing to the thirty-year-old man with curly brown hair, and blue eyes. He was wearing his usual work clothes – jeans and white shirt.

"Yes, I know," Frank replied.

"And this," Mr. Shelbrooke pointed to the woman in her mid-twenties with medium height, "is Ms. Elizabeth Cornell. She's been working here for a few weeks as Mr. Summers's assistant."

"Hi, call me Liz," the woman said, looking at Frank with friendly gray eyes. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing her clothes the opposite way from George – a formal dark brown pantsuit.

"Hi," he replied, shaking hands with her.

"Now, let's get back to business," the principal told them tersely.

George turned to Frank with a rueful smile. "Well, I'm sorry to say this, Frank, but the email did come from your school account, not a Web-based email account."

"But I didn't even login at all in the computer lab today," Frank protested. "Are you positive about this?" he asked curiously.

"Uh-huh, we've checked the log file from the terminal it was sent from," Liz told him. "I think you know how the log file works, do you? From what I've heard from Summers, you're pretty knowledgeable with computers."

Frank nodded somberly. "It's some sort of hard evidence of what you've been working with the computer," he answered, suddenly realizing that this evidence proved him guilty even though he had nothing to do with it.

He knew the log file system was one of the methods of computer surveillance. Through these log files, a system administrator could determine what Web sites the users had accessed, check the e-mails that they were sending, and whom they were sending e-mails to and receiving from, and what applications were being used.

"Then I guess you know it's not uncommon that computer surveillance has been used by companies to keep track of their unsuspecting employees for cyberslacking," Liz explained.

"I've heard some companies have fired hundreds of employees for viewing inappropriate websites, or chatting in a chatroom, or surfing the Net for their own personal use," Frank added. At least Mr. Shelbrooke didn't expel me from school. Or else I could have called it: 'My Unforgettable Disaster Week'!

Liz nodded in acknowledgement, looking serious. "It's true."

"But back to the topic – like I said, I've never accessed my school email today," he told them firmly. He felt his argument sounded useless against the evidence that had been found. How was he going to defend himself right now when the evidence was against him?

"But with the proof that we have, I'm afraid you're still being suspended, Mr. Hardy – for a week," Mr. Shelbrooke told him. His face was still red, but his anger had toned down a little. "Until the real evidence comes up that showed otherwise, that is," he added, after a thought.

Frank's shoulders sagged down. He could see the principal still wouldn't back down from his decision to suspend him. "What about the project next week?" he asked dejectedly.

"I'm not going to pull you out of the project. You will be in the competition as usual."

Frank couldn't help feeling relieved. At least there was something he could look forward to.

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, before the principal waved them off – indicating the discussion was over.

After the three of them left the principal's office, Frank turned to George and Liz. "Do you think you could give me a hard copy of the email including the full MIME header?" he asked them.

"If you're thinking about checking the IP address, we've checked it. It came from the computer lab," George told him. "But I'll give you the copy anyway. I also didn't believe you were behind this."

"But IP addresses can be faked," Frank argued.

"Then whoever it was must have known the administrator's password to access the school server just to use the IP address of one of the terminals in the lab – that is if he's accessing from outside, but then I doubt it. The log file didn't record that the computer was breached from outside," Liz said with a frown. "Are you sure you don't have any enemies?"

"If you don't count the criminals behind bars, no - not that I know of, until now." Frank let out a frustrated breath.

"Criminals?" Liz echoed with a questioning look.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later," George told his assistant.

"Or maybe someone really had used the terminal in the lab, and knew my password," Frank continued his musings, oblivious from Liz's curious inquiry.

"Well, we can't check for that now. We have to clean up the virus that you have so-called caused," George said with a sympathetic look. "We have to close the computer lab, too."

"I understand," Frank replied, and followed them to their office.

After George had printed out the email and gave him the copy, Frank walked out of the room with a glum look on his face.

***

Joe Hardy wearily stepped into the locker room. The PE lesson had been a killer. And it's only the second period of the day. He groaned inwardly as he took off his sweat-drenched T-shirt that had been uncomfortably plastered against his body.

"Phew! I'm glad I come out of this alive," Biff Hooper, his close friend, spoke up, as if knowing what Joe had been thinking. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand as he huffed and puffed from exertion.

"I'm glad you say that. I was going to think that I'm getting out of shape," Joe replied as he patted his flat washboard abs that didn't look as if he was lacking of exercises.

"The only thing that's out of shape is my arm. I don't think I can even lift a book!" Biff complained, massaging his sore muscled arms that had been through merciless exercises. Mr. Lewis, their PE teacher, didn't even give his students a break between each exercise.

"Believe me, I know how you feel."

Joe quickly peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower.

He had just dried himself, and changed into fresh clothes ten minutes later when Biff came over.

"So, have you started the history assignment, yet?" Biff asked as he stuffed his used clothes into his gym bag.

Both of them were taking European history, and they had to write a ten-page essay on something about the despots of the fifteenth century. Joe hadn't the faintest idea what it was all about. It sounded so…college-ish.

He shook his head. "I didn't even open my history book since the last lesson," Joe admitted. "Besides, the deadline's still a week away. You've already started it?" He looked amazed.

Biff nodded. "I've finished writing the page numbers," he cracked.

"Ha, ha," Joe gave a mock scowl. "I'm sure there's something about it in the library or the Internet…"

"I guess you're right," he replied.

Both of them almost bumped into someone when they stepped out of the locker room.

"Hey, Frank! Don't you have a class right now?" Joe asked in surprise, smoothing his damp blond hair.

"Man, I'm glad I caught you. You won't believe what's happened!" Frank exclaimed, looking slightly upset.

"What?" Joe asked.

"I've got suspended a week from school!"

"No way!" Biff said. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"I'm afraid it's yes way."

"Frank Hardy, best student, got a suspension?" Joe also had the same look as Biff's. "What has gotten into Mr. S? Something bugged him this morning?"

"Yeah, you could say that, in a way – with a different kind of bug," Frank replied. He briefly told them about the email incident.

"Wow, I wish someone would use my account to do that," Joe said. "Then I would get a week break!"

Frank rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Well, since I'm officially out for a week, I need the van keys. You can get a ride home from Vanessa."

"I envy you," Joe said as he fumbled inside his pocket and handed Frank the keys. "Now that you have some time off, could you please prepare my between-meal snack before I get back home?" he asked with a pleading look.

"In your dreams, brother – not after what you did with the coloring book." Frank jingled the keys in his hand.

"Ooh, revenge from Frank Hardy. I'm scaaared," Joe mocked.

"Am I missing something here?" Biff asked quizzically.

Frank and Joe looked at each other, and then looked at Biff. "No," both of them said in unison.

"Oookay…" Biff said slowly in bewilderment.

"What are you going to do after this? Find out who might have framed you?" Joe asked Frank curiously.

"What would you do if you were in my shoes?"

"I'll celebrate my week off from school," Joe replied with a mischievous grin, "then I'll find out about this person."

"You're lucky there's only one of him. It could have been worse," Biff joked to Frank.

"How?"

"He could be twins." Biff laughed at his own joke.

"I'm insulted. I'm glad you find that funny," Joe said in mock anger.

Frank sighed heavily, "Well, I better get going now. What a way to start the day," he said in disappointment.

"Okay, see ya later."

After waving goodbye to them, Frank headed to the parking lot to get his van.

As he drove back home, he began thinking the events that had been happening lately. Why was somebody onto him now? What had he done? He didn't think he had ticked someone off.

When he got home a few minutes later, he heard the phone was ringing. Looks like no one's home, he thought. The shrill from the phone continued after he had entered the front door.

He dashed to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other side of the line.

"Hello?" he tried again.

He shook his head. He was about to place down the receiver when there was a sudden sharp pain at the back of his head. He staggered forward, seeing stars in front of him. He tried to turn around to get a look of his assailant, but someone smothered his face with a damp cloth. Chloroform…Recognizing the sickeningly sweet scent. That was his last thought before he collapsed to the floor into blackness.