"I'm going to fail. I know I'm going to fail. It doesn't matter how much I study! No one could pass this test…"

Joe chuckled to himself as Frank ranted on about his impending physics test, one the younger Hardy was certain his brother would pass with flying colors.

"Frank, honey, you need to calm down," Laura said gently, exchanging a humorous glance at her younger son, knowing full well that Frank would do fine.

"Calm down! How could I calm down? An F in physics would drop my average…"

"…down to a ninety-five!" Joe broke in. "Oh my God, Frank Hardy? Not get a hundred? What will Yale and Harvard think?"

"Haha," Frank mumbled, glaring at his younger brother. "Thanks for the sympathy."

"Hey, don't give me that. I canceled a date with Mr. Pizza just to let you come and study. Which, by the way, we're due at after school tomorrow."

"Thanks for checking with me."

"Aw, you know you want to come."

Frank sighed and shook his head, mumbling about being dragged around Bayport under his breath. Joe just grinned at him.

"You'll do fine on your test," Fenton Hardy broke in, smiling at both his sons. "And then you can reward yourself by going out tomorrow."

"Sure," the elder Hardy mumbled, stabbing his pasta. Joe patted his arm playfully, grinning madly when Frank glared at him, knowing his brother wasn't really mad.

"Any new cases, dear?" Laura deftly changed the subject, instantly turning Frank and Joe's attention to their father.

"Nothing. The town seems pretty quiet, so I'm mostly doing paperwork for Chief Collig."

Joe made a face; he'd never been one for the business side of detective work. He liked action.

Better watch what you eat.

The thought startled him; it was as if another voice had spoken it. He stared down at the food on his plate, half-finished, and suddenly didn't want anymore.

It'll come right off.

"You're not having that much," his mother commented as Joe picked at the chicken on his plate.

"Coach said I had to lose some weight."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "What for? You look fine."

Joe sighed. "Yeah, but I put some extra on and I'm too big for my category now. So it's diet time."

"Well, that's all right," Mrs. Hardy said, smiling encouragingly. "There's nothing wrong with losing a few pounds."

Joe made a face and Frank laughed.

"Just take it easy, okay bro? Don't sweat it too much."

"I'm not. It's no big deal." Joe shrugged and put his fork on the table. "Just a couple pounds."

"I read an article the other day about your team," Fenton Hardy said. "Coach Finely has gained state-wide attention. He's really whipped you all into shape, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Joe grinned, rubbing his sore arms. "You wouldn't believe how much he works us."

"I've heard stories," Frank said. "Chet, Phil, and Biff practically limped out of the lockeroom."

"He doesn't overwork you, does he?" Laura frowned.

"No way. I mean, we're the state champions now. Up from the second worst team in Michigan. We have to work hard if we want to keep that title."

"All the same," Laura said slowly, "I don't think he should go around telling perfectly healthy boys to diet."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Mom, it's wrestling. The numbers are everything. Besides, Coach said it's probably muscle I gained, from the workouts he's been giving us. And he said if I keep an eye on junk and step up the exercise a little it'll come right off."

"No, I'm sure it will," Laura said, smiling again. "Just don't get too thin on us, huh?"

"Don't worry," Joe grinned, "I won't."

***

Joe stood before his mirror after dinner, the doors to his room shut, and slowly removed his shirt, taking in the thickness of his chest, the tightness of his stomach and shoulders.

Overweight.

It's no big deal, he told himself, turning to the side, surprised by the stockiness of his own body. It was as if he were seeing it for the first time, as if he'd just awoken from a state of ignorance.

No big deal.

Then how'd I let myself slip? He thought, thinking of the morning run he did everyday with his brother, the workouts in both gym and practice for sports teams. He'd always been in shape; he'd taken it for granted. That's who he was; Joe Hardy, the brawn. Just as Frank was the brain.

Who am I now?

Joe heard his stomach growl and realized he still felt hungry, remembering the little he'd eaten for dinner. Sighing, he pulled his shirt back over his head and went to do his homework, ignoring its protests.

It's just for a couple of weeks. It's just for a couple pounds.

They told him later it was his first mistake.