"Hello…"

"Frank, do it for me. I've tried, I swear, but…"

"Let me see," the older Hardy smiled, rolling his eyes. A moment earlier Joe had walked in through the bathroom, thrown his math text book and loose-leaf papers covered with equations on the bed, flopped down and put his head in his older brother's lap, knocking aside the notes Frank had been taking on the textbook opened beside him.

"Don't. I don't even want to look at the damn thing. Tell me things."

"Tell you what?"

Joe grinned up at him. "Let's do some of that 'hanging out' you claim we never do."

"I offered to buy you dinner, but you said you had to do homework, and now…"

"Fine, fine, I know when I'm not wanted…" Joe rolled away and started to get up, only to be caught by his older brother.

"I'll deal with you," he said with a grin, stretching and grinning, "I could use a break anyway."

"What'cha studying?"

"World history."

"Well that's broad…"

"The world from 1850-1941."

"What was happening in the world from 1850-1941?"

"Haven't a clue. I was half-way through the first page when a rogue blonde head attacked my notes."

Joe rolled his eyes. "It's the damn x's and y's. I can deal with x. I can deal with y. But I can't deal with x and y in the same equation!"

The older Hardy laughed. "Give it here."

Joe sat up and pulled the textbook and papers into his lap, reluctantly letting his brother walk him through the first couple problems.

"I think I got it," he mumbled when Frank started on the third one.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"You seem disappointed."

"Well, now I have to do them."

Frank laughed. "You can stay here, if you want. Not as lonely."

"Tha—" Joe swayed suddenly, would have gone right off the edge of the bed if Frank hadn't caught him.

"Whoa, easy, what's wrong?"

"I don't—" he swayed again, started as darkness suddenly lined the edges of his visions, shook his head to clear it. "I'm kinda…dizzy…s'all…" he shut his eyes, felt Frank's arm go around him, as much to keep him steady as to be a comfort, felt Frank's other hand go to his forehead.

"You're not hot," the older Hardy murmured. "You're just dizzy? Anything hurt?"

"No…maybe I'm…dehydrated or something…"

Joe felt the arm moving away, two strong hands ease him back onto the bed, heard Frank murmur 'hang on.' The bed dipped in, his brother's footsteps hurried into the bathroom, the faucet ran water, and Frank was back with a washrag he put on his brother's forehead and a glass Joe heard click as he set it on the nightstand.

"Sit up," Frank said gently. "Lean on me. Sip this."

Joe obeyed, forcing his eyes open as the room seemed to tilt, and drank slowly, feeling Frank's strong arm holding him steady.

"You should get some sugar in you too."

At this Joe shivered, shook his head vehemently.

"I don't need it. I feel better…I'm probably tired, you know…lots of work today."

The older Hardy nodded slowly. "Too much."

Joe winced at the tone of his brother's voice, knowing there was no way out of the lecture he was about to get.

"Joe—"

"I know Frank, before you say it, please, I really am okay. Promise. I'll take it easier tomorrow, I will."

"Talk to Coach Finley. Please, Joe? For me? So I don't have to do the overprotective-big-brother thing?"

Joe stiffened, set the glass down, wriggled out from beneath his brother's arm.

"No one said you had to," he muttered, gathering his papers.

Frank's turn to wince.

"I didn't mean it like that…"

"Well, that's what you said."

"I know it annoys you, that's all."

Or it annoys you is what you really mean.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," Joe sighed.

"What about math?"

"I'll finish it tomorrow at lunch."

Frank nodded and patted his brother's shoulder. "If you don't feel well, yell okay?"

"Sure. Thanks, bro."

"Anytime, kid."

Joe rolled his eyes and started for the bathroom, then paused and leaned against the doorframe.

"Frank," he asked suddenly, "do we burn calories while we sleep?"

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Sure. Not as many as when we're awake, but your body's always burning calories. It's how we stay alive."

But Joe heard one thing: not as many as when we're awake.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Hey," Frank seemed to materialize beside him, caught his arm. Joe realized he was swaying again, had lost track of the room for a minute.  "You okay?"

"Sure."

Frank looked at him, but Joe avoided his eyes. He couldn't look his brother in the face and lie. "Look, don't worry so much about calories and stuff. As long as you eat the right foods you'll maintain a healthy weight."

Healthy? Joe thought, clenching his hands into fists.

You know what he's saying, don't you? He wants you to stay this way…

"Thanks," he mumbled again, ducking through the bathroom before Frank could stop him a second time.

Once in his room, he sat slowly down at his computer, checking the automatic clock at the bottom of the screen.

If you burn fewer calories when you're asleep, you'll just have to burn more when you're awake.

Joe pressed the bright blue "e" at the bottom of the screen and pulled up the internet, then went immediately to the online yellow pages to find the number of the local pharmacy. When he'd found it he pulled out his cell phone and went to shut the bathroom door, smiling at Frank and mouthing "Vanessa" when his brother raised an eyebrow. Nothing unusual about shutting each other out when they were on the phone with their girlfriends.

"Bayport Drugs."

"Yes, hi," Joe said quickly, realizing, suddenly, that he was nervous, "I was wondering if you sell diet pills."