"So?" Chet asked as Frank dodged him in the second floor wing of
their high school.
"So what?" Frank replied, distractedly.
"Why isn't Joe in today?"
Frank began spinning the dial to his locker. "Didn't feel well," he answered hurriedly, pulling his locker open and throwing his last period books into it.
"What's your hurry? It's lunchtime?" Chet asked, confused.
"I need to find Randy."
"Randy who?"
"You know who."
Chet looked even more bewildered, "Randy Carmichael? Why? He isn't in trouble, is he?"
"Why," Frank asked, turning around. "Does Randy have a history of getting into trouble?"
Chet Morton shrugged. "Not really. I don't know… he hasn't been going to this school for very long you know…"
Frank sighed. "Yeah…I should check up on that. Listen, tell Callie I had to talk to Randy and I'll see her after school."
"Callie has rehearsals today."
"Oh yeah, I forgot." Frank slammed his locker shut and leaned onto it.
"Yeah…she and Vanessa signed up to be stage managers for tonight's play."
"I'll have to call her at her house later. Thanks man, I gotta go."
"All right, hey, if you need a hand…"
Frank smirked and smacked Chet on the arm. "You'll be the first person I call."
"Aww…how sweet."
"Later man."
Chet watched Frank disappear into the hall. "Yeah…later."
It wasn't hard to spot 6'2'', sandy haired Randy Carmichael. He was already on the field donning his Tritons uniform. Melissa Roberts, a member of the school's newspaper staff, was also there taking pictures. She waved and called out to Frank.
"Hey Hardy. What're you doing here?"
Randy turned and watched Frank trot slowly towards him.
"Hi Melissa. Hey Randy."
"Frank…"
"Can I speak to you, alone?" Frank asked, ignoring Melissa's inquisitive stare.
"Look…" Randy replied, looking from Frank to Melissa and tugging on Frank's shirt gently, wanting to pull him aside. Frank nodded and obliged. "If it's about Joe, I don't know what happened, all right? He seemed fine when I talked to him yesterday."
"Yeah…but when my dad was asking around here yesterday if anyone had seem Joe that day, you didn't come forward."
"Yeah, well," Randy replied, scratching his head. "I had a feeling if I did I would be under suspicion."
"Sounds to me like not coming forward has made you seem even more suspicious," Melissa chided in, gaining a look of disdain from Frank. Melissa quietly backed off.
"She's right, you know," Frank told Randy, watching Melissa run back towards the bleachers.
"Look Frank…I'm sorry for what happened. Joe's a good guy and a great player. But I didn't do anything. Interrogate someone else, I have practice."
Frank watched in stunned silence as Randy put on his helmet and made the two-yard trek towards the center of the field. He went back into the building to regroup his thoughts.
"Frank? Could you get that?"
Looking up, Frank didn't even realize the phone had been ringing. The voice had been Joe's from deep in his room.
"Sorry about that," he called back, picking up the phone.
"Hardy residence."
"So you are alive."
It didn't even take him a second to recognize the voice, or the vehemence in it.
"Callie."
"You remembered."
"God…I'm sorry, I…I forgot to call."
"I know that…but considering the stress you've been going through, I guess I'll forgive you."
Frank smiled. "You're the best."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"Actually, could I ask you something instead?"
"Shoot."
"What do you know about Randy Carmichael?"
A brief pause.
"Nothing much. He transferred here from Riordan High School last semester. He seems to be a good football player. From what I hear, he gets average grades."
"He used to go to Riordan High School?"
"Yeah."
Frank eyes widened a bit. "Aren't they a big rival of ours?"
"I don't know. I guess."
"Now that's interesting."
"You don't think…"
"It's a possibility Callie," Frank interrupted. "Right now I got nothing. At least this is something to go on."
"All right…but just so you know…there are other members of that team."
"What do you mean?" Frank asked, gaining a bit of interest.
"It may just be gossip, but Tom has supposedly never like Joe."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Truthfully, the guy gives me the creeps."
Frank shrugged. "All right…I check up on it."
"Good. I'm going to go, it's about dinner time, I'll call you back a little later, okay?"
"'Kay. Thanks Callie."
"Hey, if there is someone who is deliberately hurting Joe, he's no friend of mine, neither."
Frank laughed. "All right. Stay dangerous."
"Thanks. You too. Bye."
"Bye," Frank said, clicking the phone off and setting it down on the coffee table.
A few minutes later it rang again. This time Frank picked it up after only three rings, mindful to not wake Joe.
"Hello? Hardy residence."
"Frank?"
"Jules?" Frank replied, bewildered. 'Why would she call me,' he wondered.
"You should come back to Bayport High right now."
Frank was a bit startled. "Why?"
"There's been another accident."
"So what?" Frank replied, distractedly.
"Why isn't Joe in today?"
Frank began spinning the dial to his locker. "Didn't feel well," he answered hurriedly, pulling his locker open and throwing his last period books into it.
"What's your hurry? It's lunchtime?" Chet asked, confused.
"I need to find Randy."
"Randy who?"
"You know who."
Chet looked even more bewildered, "Randy Carmichael? Why? He isn't in trouble, is he?"
"Why," Frank asked, turning around. "Does Randy have a history of getting into trouble?"
Chet Morton shrugged. "Not really. I don't know… he hasn't been going to this school for very long you know…"
Frank sighed. "Yeah…I should check up on that. Listen, tell Callie I had to talk to Randy and I'll see her after school."
"Callie has rehearsals today."
"Oh yeah, I forgot." Frank slammed his locker shut and leaned onto it.
"Yeah…she and Vanessa signed up to be stage managers for tonight's play."
"I'll have to call her at her house later. Thanks man, I gotta go."
"All right, hey, if you need a hand…"
Frank smirked and smacked Chet on the arm. "You'll be the first person I call."
"Aww…how sweet."
"Later man."
Chet watched Frank disappear into the hall. "Yeah…later."
It wasn't hard to spot 6'2'', sandy haired Randy Carmichael. He was already on the field donning his Tritons uniform. Melissa Roberts, a member of the school's newspaper staff, was also there taking pictures. She waved and called out to Frank.
"Hey Hardy. What're you doing here?"
Randy turned and watched Frank trot slowly towards him.
"Hi Melissa. Hey Randy."
"Frank…"
"Can I speak to you, alone?" Frank asked, ignoring Melissa's inquisitive stare.
"Look…" Randy replied, looking from Frank to Melissa and tugging on Frank's shirt gently, wanting to pull him aside. Frank nodded and obliged. "If it's about Joe, I don't know what happened, all right? He seemed fine when I talked to him yesterday."
"Yeah…but when my dad was asking around here yesterday if anyone had seem Joe that day, you didn't come forward."
"Yeah, well," Randy replied, scratching his head. "I had a feeling if I did I would be under suspicion."
"Sounds to me like not coming forward has made you seem even more suspicious," Melissa chided in, gaining a look of disdain from Frank. Melissa quietly backed off.
"She's right, you know," Frank told Randy, watching Melissa run back towards the bleachers.
"Look Frank…I'm sorry for what happened. Joe's a good guy and a great player. But I didn't do anything. Interrogate someone else, I have practice."
Frank watched in stunned silence as Randy put on his helmet and made the two-yard trek towards the center of the field. He went back into the building to regroup his thoughts.
"Frank? Could you get that?"
Looking up, Frank didn't even realize the phone had been ringing. The voice had been Joe's from deep in his room.
"Sorry about that," he called back, picking up the phone.
"Hardy residence."
"So you are alive."
It didn't even take him a second to recognize the voice, or the vehemence in it.
"Callie."
"You remembered."
"God…I'm sorry, I…I forgot to call."
"I know that…but considering the stress you've been going through, I guess I'll forgive you."
Frank smiled. "You're the best."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"Actually, could I ask you something instead?"
"Shoot."
"What do you know about Randy Carmichael?"
A brief pause.
"Nothing much. He transferred here from Riordan High School last semester. He seems to be a good football player. From what I hear, he gets average grades."
"He used to go to Riordan High School?"
"Yeah."
Frank eyes widened a bit. "Aren't they a big rival of ours?"
"I don't know. I guess."
"Now that's interesting."
"You don't think…"
"It's a possibility Callie," Frank interrupted. "Right now I got nothing. At least this is something to go on."
"All right…but just so you know…there are other members of that team."
"What do you mean?" Frank asked, gaining a bit of interest.
"It may just be gossip, but Tom has supposedly never like Joe."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Truthfully, the guy gives me the creeps."
Frank shrugged. "All right…I check up on it."
"Good. I'm going to go, it's about dinner time, I'll call you back a little later, okay?"
"'Kay. Thanks Callie."
"Hey, if there is someone who is deliberately hurting Joe, he's no friend of mine, neither."
Frank laughed. "All right. Stay dangerous."
"Thanks. You too. Bye."
"Bye," Frank said, clicking the phone off and setting it down on the coffee table.
A few minutes later it rang again. This time Frank picked it up after only three rings, mindful to not wake Joe.
"Hello? Hardy residence."
"Frank?"
"Jules?" Frank replied, bewildered. 'Why would she call me,' he wondered.
"You should come back to Bayport High right now."
Frank was a bit startled. "Why?"
"There's been another accident."