Frank caught up with the rest of the team, Coach Finley, and his unconscious brother in the health office, where the school nurse was taking his Joe's blood pressure while the Coach pressed a cool cloth against his forehead.
"Did anyone call an ambulance?" Frank demanded, realizing he sounded a little too harsh.
Easy Hardy. Don't flip out. Joe's been unconscious often enough…
But this was different: there were no bad guys, no criminals or crooks out to get them; the enemy was his brother's own mind.
"His blood pressure's all right," the nurse said, "and his heart rate and temperature. I didn't see the need."
Frank nodded, took the washrag from Coach Finely, and perched on the edge of the cot his brother was lying on, noting how small his legs looked in his sweatpants, how thin his torso was in his t-shirt.
"Joe," he murmured, touching the rag to his brother's temple. "Come on. Wake up. It's okay, you're all right, just wake up, okay?"
"Let's give them some room," Coach Finley said, touching Frank's shoulder and herding the group of anxious teens out into the hall. Frank pushed against his brother's temple a little harder, relieved when his brother turned his head a bit and groaned.
"That's it, easy kiddo, you're all right."
"Hmm," Joe sighed, frowning, his eyes still closed. "Frank?"
"I'm here. Just rest for a minute, okay? It's all right. How do you feel?"
The younger Hardy turned his head, leaning in to his brother's hand. "Dizzy," he mumbled. "Kinda…weak…"
The nurse got to her feet and disappeared into a door on the right; Frank heard the sound of a refrigerator being opened and closed, and she returned a moment later with a paper cup of juice.
"Can you help him sit up?" she asked.
Frank nodded and slid an arm beneath his brother's shoulders, taking the weight of his head and back against his shoulder as he lifted him to a sitting position, steadying him with both arms once he was upright.
"Easy," he murmured when Joe swayed and made a small sound in his throat. "I've got you, kiddo."
"Hm," Joe closed his eyes and leaned against his brother. "Room's all shaky."
"Here," the nurse said, handing the paper cup to Frank. "Sip this, okay?"
Frank held the cup to his brother's mouth and tilted it back, letting him take a small sip, startled when Joe suddenly jerked away from him and the cup.
"What is that?" he snapped.
"Just apple juice. You need some sugar—"
"I don't need that. I don't want that. I want some water."
Frank stared at his brother with growing horror.
"You're afraid of the calories," he breathed, his part picking up speed, catching his brother as Joe swayed again. "Here, come on, lean on me…"
"I don't…need that, just some water, I'm dehydrated is all…"
The nurse set her jaw. "Have you had anything to eat today?"
The younger Hardy stiffened; Frank tightened his arm, sensing his brother's longing to slide away.
"What?"
"What have you eaten today?"
"I…enough, I had enough."
"Let's see," Frank snapped, "you had what for breakfast, an apple? Did you even eat that, or did you throw it away?"
"Ate it," Joe mumbled, beginning to frown.
"Are you lying?"
The younger Hardy's hands began to tremble; he clenched them into fists. "I ate it."
"Look at me and tell me that."
Joe sat up, tried to pull away. Frank held him fast.
"Let go, Frank, I had most of it…"
"You're lying."
"Am not…"
"Look at me and say it!"
Joe just shook his head and slumped wearily against Frank's chest.
"Godamnit, Joe…"
The nurse reached out and touched the younger Hardy's arm.
"Joe, look at me. Did you have any lunch?"
"He didn't," Frank murmured, remembering the argument. "Don't even let him tell you he did."
The nurse nodded. "Joe, I want you to listen to me. You need to drink this. You need calories for energy, and your body has none, and that's why you're weak."
Joe just shook his head and leaned away from Frank to grip the edge of the cot.
"I'm okay now," he mumbled, trying to pull himself to his feet; Frank was quick too stop him.
"Sit down, where the hell do you think you're going?"
"Away from you! You don't know what you're talking about—"
"Yes I do." Frank gripped his brother's arm, pulling his arm back against the mattress. Joe was too weak to pull away.
"Drink this."
The younger Hardy glared at his brother in rage at first, struggling against his brother's grip; realizing he couldn't break it, and that he wouldn't be released until the cup was empty, a look of panic began to come over his face. "Frank…no—"
"Drink it Joe."
"I don't want it, please—"
"You need it, your body does, I don't care if you want it or not. Just swallow it, don't think—"
"Frank, please—"
"What is the matter with you?"
The younger Hardy clenched his hands into fists and looked down at the floor, his face flushing. He raised one hand and weakly struck at his knee. The elder Hardy could feel him trembling.
"I'm scared, okay?" he said so softly the two sitting with him almost missed it. Frank and the nurse exchanged a glance, then the nurse sighed and informed them she was calling Mrs. Hardy. Frank thanked her as she went into her office, then turned back to Joe, who was continuing to hit his knee.
"Don't do that," the elder Hardy murmured, releasing his brother arm and putting his hand over Joe's.
"Quit bossing me around!"
Frank sighed, released his brother's hand, and slowly put an arm around his younger brother's shoulders.
"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be condescending. And I don't want a fight, all right? I'm scared too, Joe. You're scaring me."
Joe looked away from his brother and out the window. "I don't mean to."
"I know you're not doing this on purpose, and I know you're scared, but you have to drink this. And eat something. But this first. Your body is telling you that it can't do this anymore, buddy. It needs something to keep it going. You have to do this, Joe. Look, I'm right here, I'm with you. Nothing bad will come of this, promise. Trust me? Try to?"
The younger Hardy didn't answer for almost a minute; Frank felt his shoulders slowly slumping, but it didn't feel as if he was relaxing: it felt defeated.
"I trust you," he finally murmured. "Don't talk like I don't."
"Doesn't feel like you have lately, is all."
"What, because I don't swallow everything you tell me without question?"
"Bad pun."
"Frank!"
The elder Hardy sighed in frustration, seized his brother's hand, and placed the cup in it.
"Sorry," he snapped, getting to his feet. "I guess I was under the impression that my opinion, and your friend's opinions, and your family's opinions, and all of us worrying, might mean more to you than wanting to be thin," Frank turned and made his way to the door, pausing only to turn back to his wide-eyed brother. "Guess I was wrong."
It was a dare on his part, and he half-hoped his brother would call his bluff, would say "nice try, but I know you'd never actually leave me," and he marveled at his own disappointment a moment later when Joe called, "Wait…Frank…please…don't just go…"
The elder Hardy turned back, crossed his arms, and watched his brother watching the cup he held in his now trembling hand. Frank felt a rush of guilt: it had been a bit cruel on his part to use his knowledge of his brother as he did, knowing all too well that Joe would never do anything to deliberately hurt the people he cared about, as Frank had implied he was doing. But then again, he was starting to feel more than fear, but terror, and terror, no matter how brave or strong or level-headed you were normally, drove people to desperation.
"I'm confused, is all…I don't want to upset anyone…I don't want to fight…"
Frank felt something tug in his chest at seeing how small his brother looked, how young, how terribly frightened and sad and alone, couldn't bear it, crossed the room to kneel in front of him and rest his hands lightly on his brother's knees.
"We're not fighting," he said gently, "we're working through things. We'll work this out. Just do this for me now and we'll talk. I'm still here, see?"
Joe nodded and, with trembling hands, raised the cup to his lips, took a deep breath, and began to drink. Frank felt his own shoulders slump with relief, nodding encouragingly when Joe lowered it, half-empty.
"See? Not so bad. Just—"
Joe shuddered so hard it was almost violent, shook his head, and suddenly threw the cup, still half-full, across the room, spilling its contents all over the nurse's floor.
"You don't know!" he almost shouted, lowering his head to his hands and rocking himself back and forth, continuing to shake. "You don't know anything! You think you do because you want me to be one way, act one way, you want to control me, and I'm not listening anymore, look what you did! Look at me, do you see what that juice just did to me I can feel it, it's making me bigger already…"
Frank felt his eyes widen, shock making him breathless. "Joe…it's not…"
"Boys."
Both turned to see their mother rushing through the nurse's office door as the nurse came out from her office.
"What happened?" Mrs. Hardy and the nurse asked at the same time.
"We had a fight," Joe mumbled, crossing his arms and moving away from his brother.
Frank got shakily to his feet, avoiding his mother's questioning gaze.
"I heard you fainted."
Joe nodded, rubbing his eyes. "I'm okay now. A little tired, that's all."
"I'll take you home. What do they think it was?"
Frank's eyes locked with Joe's; for once, the pair couldn't read each other's expressions.