"Talk," ordered Frank after his friends had left.
"Tomorrow," Fenton said, starting to leave the living room. He stopped abruptly as the crutches Frank had been using crashed into the wall beside him. Fenton turned around prepared to deliver an angry command but kept his mouth shut as his eyes met the furious ones of his eldest son.
"You told Joe that you were sending him away because he did something wrong," Frank said, his voice a bit quieter than normal. "You made him feel like you didn't want anymore. Don't you? Is that why you sent him away?"
"Don't you ever suggest that I don't want or love Joseph," Fenton snarled, taking a feral step toward Frank. "Are you so blind you believe you care more about him than I do? Than your mother does? He's your brother but he's my flesh and blood and I love him more than you will ever be able too; no matter how close you are."
"Then why?" asked Frank, not doubting the sincerity of his father's feelings. "Why did you send him away?"
"For the reasons I said," Fenton told him honestly. "So he can learn to follow orders and think before he acts. His life, and yours, will depend on it."
"What do you mean by that remark?" demanded Frank.
"I can't tell you anything more," Fenton stated. "But soon, I promise, you, and your brother, will know everything." Fenton picked up Frank's crutches and handed them to him. "Get some sleep," he ordered. "Joe's safe for now and that's the important thing," he added before going upstairs and following his wife to bed.
His thoughts on the cryptic remarks his father had made, Frank forgot to turn on the alarm system. He hobbled to the steps and jumped up them on his good foot and went to his room.
"Fenton!" Laura screamed the next morning on her way past Joe's bedroom.
"What?" demanded Fenton, running into the hall clad in a pair of pajama pants. His face was half covered in shaving cream and the razor he had been using was still in his hand.
"What's wrong?" asked Frank, opening his door and hobbling into the hall to join them.
"Someone's been in the house," Laura answered.
Fenton's gaze swept past his wife to Joe's open bedroom door and the mess that lay within. "Someone has demolished it," stated Frank, his gaze also on the devastation inside.
"Go back to our room and lock the door," Fenton ordered Laura. "And call the police," he added to her retreating back. "Wait here," he instructed Frank. "I'll check the place out."
Frank gritted his teeth but remained where he was. In his current condition there wasn't a lot he could do.
Fenton began looking around Joe's room, careful not to disturb anything. He then moved from room to room, finishing in the downstairs kitchen were he at once saw how the intruders had entered the premises. The kitchen window had a pane missing. His mouth set in a grim line, he returned upstairs.
"No one is here now," Fenton informed Frank. "But stay in your room until the police get through. Every room except your room and your mother's and mine has been ransacked." He shook his head. "They were professionals," he continued. "They didn't break the glass on the door to get in, they removed the pane. I just don't understand why the alarm didn't go off."
Frank blushed. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I forgot to turn it on before I came upstairs last night."
Fenton looked surprised and then contrite. "No, it's my fault. I should have taken care of it. I know you've hurt your ankle."
"That's no excuse," Frank said. "I screwed up. Maybe you should send me to boarding school so I can learn some responsibility?" he suggested, hoping his dad would go for it but doubting it.
"Nice try," Fenton replied wryly. "But I think I'll give you a few more chances."
"Why won't you tell me why you sent Joe away?" Frank demanded.
Fenton sighed wearily. And people think Joe is the stubborn one!' he thought. "The house could have been bugged," Fenton responded, knowing that would silence Frank if only for a little while.
Frank glared at his father then returned to his room and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. Something was going on and Joe had a right to know about it. He paused before he began writing. If something major was going on then the letter might be intercepted. He smiled as he began writing. He and Joe had worked out a secret code years ago that even their dad hadn't been able to figure out. He would use that to let Joe in on what was going on. He would be vague just in case someone did see through the code but then, he realized, no matter what he said it would be vague. He still didn't know what was going on.
"Ouch!" Jeff winced when he looked at Joe's class schedule over breakfast.
"What's wrong?" asked Joe.
"Everything," answered Jeff, handing the sheet back to Joe. "For starters, your classes are in a crazy geographical order."
"Huh?"
"Your first class is in the science building that is about a ten-minute hike from here," Jeff began. "Your second class is in the math building which is also about a ten-minute hike from here but..."
"But twenty minutes from my chem class," Joe caught on. "Why aren't the science and math buildings closer together?"
"The science building is new," Jeff explained. "The old science building has been converted into the health and fitness building."
"Where I have gym," Joe stated.
"Right, but you've got history in Abington which is located two buildings over from the new science building after your trigonometry class," Jeff said. "And right before gym you have English."
"Yeah, but that's right after my French class," Joe said. "And those two are close..." he broke off as Jeff shook his head.
"Not here," Jeff said, knowing Joe expected the languages to be in the same building. "They are also on opposite ends of campus."
"Peachy," moaned Joe. "I'll be doing double time to make it to most of my classes on time. The only ones I won't have to rush to are chem and French because I can cut out of the cafeteria early." He narrowed his eyes on Jeff. "What else is wrong with my schedule?"
"You've got some of the toughest instructors on campus," Jeff said. "Watson gives excessive amounts of homework. Allman is a stickler for being on time. If you're late, he gives extra assignments. If you turn them in late, he marks you down a letter grade for each day and he doubles the assignment."
Joe groaned and buried his head in his hands as Jeff continued. "Baldwin, your gym teacher, keeps you moving every second and he loves making you do exercises and laps. If you're late to his class or do something wrong, he'll give you a minimum of ten laps and thirty minutes of push-ups. Henri conducts his classes completely in French," Jeff added, giving Joe a sympathetic smile. "And if you don't understand what he says you're better off to guess because he answers all questions in French."
"What about Scottsdale and Barnes?" asked Joe, wondering if his history and English teachers were also going to be tough.
"Couldn't say," replied Jeff. "I haven't had either of them and neither have Ken or Steve."
"Ken and Steve?" asked Joe with the lift of a brow.
"My friends," Jeff answered. "They should be joining us soon. They both like to sleep as late as they can."
As the day progressed, Joe discovered that Jeff had been right on the mark. Fortunately, he was spared extra assignments because he ended up sprinting to his classes. Running was not allowed in the halls but outside was a different matter and one of the other student's had warned him how slow the elevators were so Joe used the stairs and took them two at a time.
He arrived in his history class with an entire two minutes to spare. "You're early," commented Mr. Scottsdale, looking down his long, pointed nose at Joe as he entered.
"Yes, Sir," acknowledged Joe. "It's my first day and I wanted to find a seat."
"Tell me, Mr...?" Scottsdale lifted a brow in question.
"Joe Hardy, Sir," Joe replied politely.
"Tell me, Mr. Hardy," Scottsdale said, looking at Joe with a glint in his hazel eyes. "What do you expect to learn in my class?"
"Whatever you teach me," Joe answered, puzzled by the question.
"A pathetic answer from a mediocre, at best, mind," Scottsdale replied. "Think about it and tomorrow I want an essay telling me what you expect to learn in my class."
"Tomorrow," Fenton said, starting to leave the living room. He stopped abruptly as the crutches Frank had been using crashed into the wall beside him. Fenton turned around prepared to deliver an angry command but kept his mouth shut as his eyes met the furious ones of his eldest son.
"You told Joe that you were sending him away because he did something wrong," Frank said, his voice a bit quieter than normal. "You made him feel like you didn't want anymore. Don't you? Is that why you sent him away?"
"Don't you ever suggest that I don't want or love Joseph," Fenton snarled, taking a feral step toward Frank. "Are you so blind you believe you care more about him than I do? Than your mother does? He's your brother but he's my flesh and blood and I love him more than you will ever be able too; no matter how close you are."
"Then why?" asked Frank, not doubting the sincerity of his father's feelings. "Why did you send him away?"
"For the reasons I said," Fenton told him honestly. "So he can learn to follow orders and think before he acts. His life, and yours, will depend on it."
"What do you mean by that remark?" demanded Frank.
"I can't tell you anything more," Fenton stated. "But soon, I promise, you, and your brother, will know everything." Fenton picked up Frank's crutches and handed them to him. "Get some sleep," he ordered. "Joe's safe for now and that's the important thing," he added before going upstairs and following his wife to bed.
His thoughts on the cryptic remarks his father had made, Frank forgot to turn on the alarm system. He hobbled to the steps and jumped up them on his good foot and went to his room.
"Fenton!" Laura screamed the next morning on her way past Joe's bedroom.
"What?" demanded Fenton, running into the hall clad in a pair of pajama pants. His face was half covered in shaving cream and the razor he had been using was still in his hand.
"What's wrong?" asked Frank, opening his door and hobbling into the hall to join them.
"Someone's been in the house," Laura answered.
Fenton's gaze swept past his wife to Joe's open bedroom door and the mess that lay within. "Someone has demolished it," stated Frank, his gaze also on the devastation inside.
"Go back to our room and lock the door," Fenton ordered Laura. "And call the police," he added to her retreating back. "Wait here," he instructed Frank. "I'll check the place out."
Frank gritted his teeth but remained where he was. In his current condition there wasn't a lot he could do.
Fenton began looking around Joe's room, careful not to disturb anything. He then moved from room to room, finishing in the downstairs kitchen were he at once saw how the intruders had entered the premises. The kitchen window had a pane missing. His mouth set in a grim line, he returned upstairs.
"No one is here now," Fenton informed Frank. "But stay in your room until the police get through. Every room except your room and your mother's and mine has been ransacked." He shook his head. "They were professionals," he continued. "They didn't break the glass on the door to get in, they removed the pane. I just don't understand why the alarm didn't go off."
Frank blushed. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I forgot to turn it on before I came upstairs last night."
Fenton looked surprised and then contrite. "No, it's my fault. I should have taken care of it. I know you've hurt your ankle."
"That's no excuse," Frank said. "I screwed up. Maybe you should send me to boarding school so I can learn some responsibility?" he suggested, hoping his dad would go for it but doubting it.
"Nice try," Fenton replied wryly. "But I think I'll give you a few more chances."
"Why won't you tell me why you sent Joe away?" Frank demanded.
Fenton sighed wearily. And people think Joe is the stubborn one!' he thought. "The house could have been bugged," Fenton responded, knowing that would silence Frank if only for a little while.
Frank glared at his father then returned to his room and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. Something was going on and Joe had a right to know about it. He paused before he began writing. If something major was going on then the letter might be intercepted. He smiled as he began writing. He and Joe had worked out a secret code years ago that even their dad hadn't been able to figure out. He would use that to let Joe in on what was going on. He would be vague just in case someone did see through the code but then, he realized, no matter what he said it would be vague. He still didn't know what was going on.
"Ouch!" Jeff winced when he looked at Joe's class schedule over breakfast.
"What's wrong?" asked Joe.
"Everything," answered Jeff, handing the sheet back to Joe. "For starters, your classes are in a crazy geographical order."
"Huh?"
"Your first class is in the science building that is about a ten-minute hike from here," Jeff began. "Your second class is in the math building which is also about a ten-minute hike from here but..."
"But twenty minutes from my chem class," Joe caught on. "Why aren't the science and math buildings closer together?"
"The science building is new," Jeff explained. "The old science building has been converted into the health and fitness building."
"Where I have gym," Joe stated.
"Right, but you've got history in Abington which is located two buildings over from the new science building after your trigonometry class," Jeff said. "And right before gym you have English."
"Yeah, but that's right after my French class," Joe said. "And those two are close..." he broke off as Jeff shook his head.
"Not here," Jeff said, knowing Joe expected the languages to be in the same building. "They are also on opposite ends of campus."
"Peachy," moaned Joe. "I'll be doing double time to make it to most of my classes on time. The only ones I won't have to rush to are chem and French because I can cut out of the cafeteria early." He narrowed his eyes on Jeff. "What else is wrong with my schedule?"
"You've got some of the toughest instructors on campus," Jeff said. "Watson gives excessive amounts of homework. Allman is a stickler for being on time. If you're late, he gives extra assignments. If you turn them in late, he marks you down a letter grade for each day and he doubles the assignment."
Joe groaned and buried his head in his hands as Jeff continued. "Baldwin, your gym teacher, keeps you moving every second and he loves making you do exercises and laps. If you're late to his class or do something wrong, he'll give you a minimum of ten laps and thirty minutes of push-ups. Henri conducts his classes completely in French," Jeff added, giving Joe a sympathetic smile. "And if you don't understand what he says you're better off to guess because he answers all questions in French."
"What about Scottsdale and Barnes?" asked Joe, wondering if his history and English teachers were also going to be tough.
"Couldn't say," replied Jeff. "I haven't had either of them and neither have Ken or Steve."
"Ken and Steve?" asked Joe with the lift of a brow.
"My friends," Jeff answered. "They should be joining us soon. They both like to sleep as late as they can."
As the day progressed, Joe discovered that Jeff had been right on the mark. Fortunately, he was spared extra assignments because he ended up sprinting to his classes. Running was not allowed in the halls but outside was a different matter and one of the other student's had warned him how slow the elevators were so Joe used the stairs and took them two at a time.
He arrived in his history class with an entire two minutes to spare. "You're early," commented Mr. Scottsdale, looking down his long, pointed nose at Joe as he entered.
"Yes, Sir," acknowledged Joe. "It's my first day and I wanted to find a seat."
"Tell me, Mr...?" Scottsdale lifted a brow in question.
"Joe Hardy, Sir," Joe replied politely.
"Tell me, Mr. Hardy," Scottsdale said, looking at Joe with a glint in his hazel eyes. "What do you expect to learn in my class?"
"Whatever you teach me," Joe answered, puzzled by the question.
"A pathetic answer from a mediocre, at best, mind," Scottsdale replied. "Think about it and tomorrow I want an essay telling me what you expect to learn in my class."