"Aren't you hungry?" Frank asked as Joe headed upstairs.
"A little," Joe lied. His stomach was screaming at him. He ignored it.
Just a few pounds. Just a few weeks.
"You should have something else then. An apple or something."
"Nah. I'm okay."
Frank followed his brother down the hall toward their bedrooms, knowing he had to ask and half-dreading the answer.
If he says he wants me to stay, will I? Would I give up a shot at an Ivy just for him?
Probably.
But I'd resent it…
"Phil's right about Coach Finley," Joe said suddenly.
"What do you mean? That he's a jerk?"
"I believe the correct term is 'bastard'."
Frank grinned. "He really works you, huh?"
"Definitely."
Then why were you so bothered by Phil's comment earlier?
The elder Hardy sighed. For as well as he knew his brother, Joe could be a total mystery to him sometimes.
"Is the weight thing really bugging you?"
Joe raised an eyebrow. "Not really. It's only a couple pounds."
"Just take it easy. They're not that important."
"I know, Frank."
His brother opened the door to his room, and Frank knew he had to bring it up now before he lost his nerve.
"Hey Joe?"
The younger Hardy turned halfway through his doorway.
"About college…are you okay with me going out of state?"
Joe frowned. "Yeah."
"Are you sure? Because I wouldn't mind staying here for a year, if you wanted me to."
"Wouldn't that be selfish of me," he snapped, turning away.
"Not at all. I mean, it'll be an adjustment for me too, not working on cases for awhile. But if you want…"
"No. I'm okay, Frank. Really."
"Would you tell me if you weren't?"
"Sure."
Frank wasn't convinced, but he patted his brother's shoulder and headed into his own room.
Joe watched him go, feeling a little queasy. Two lies to his brother in five minutes.
He had no idea how good at lying he was about to become.