Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much!
Joe was nervous. It was something he was not so used to being. Things mattered so much more as a Hardy than they ever had while living as a Brampton. Who cared if he competed for some school team or won some class award? Marsden certainly hadn't so Joe hadn't cared either.
But the Hardys cared. Not in a 'you have to join a sports team or else' way but in a 'we'll be sitting in the crowd cheering you on' sort of way.
Joe really wanted to earn their cheers.
He was sitting in the locker room trying to psyche himself up. Around him were the rest of the Bayport wrestling team. It wasn't even a serious match, just a neighbouring town competing against them so the new team members could get a bit of experience. There were a few medals to be given out to those who did the best but it was really no big deal.
"How are you feeling?" Biff asked, coming over to Joe.
"I'm fine," Joe lied.
Biff saw through it in a moment.
"Nervous or scared?"
"Does it matter?" Joe asked.
"Well, if you're scared, we have to do something about it. Being nervous is natural, especially before your first match."
"I'm just nervous," Joe said.
He supposed it was a good thing. He was used to living with fear. Whenever he was put in a situation where he felt like he was competing in front of Marsden, he was terrified he would cause the man some embarrassment and then Marsden would punish him cruelly.
He knew the worst thing the Hardys would do would be to look at him disappointedly. But he really didn't want to let them down.
"You'll do fine. You're one of the best in the class. You'll get out there and instinct will take over. You'll see," Biff assured him.
Joe tried to take encouragement from his words.
"Frank told me he was coming to watch. And your mom."
"And Fenton," Joe said. "If he makes it back in time."
It was then that the coach knocked on the door, telling the boys it was time to head out. Joe took an unsteady breath and got to his feet.
The sports hall was not particularly crowded. It wasn't an important match after all. The majority of spectators there were siblings of those competing, waiting for their parents to pick them both up, or the parents of those who were competing for the first time.
It wasn't hard for Joe to pick out the Hardys. They were on the front row, three seats side by side. Frank. Laura. Fenton.
The sight of them made Joe freeze as he entered the sports hall. Because they had come. They had actually come. All three of them had shown up to watch him in some contest that didn't matter all that much.
But there was something else. Fenton had a black eye and he was wearing a scarf that he had no reason to be wearing inside if it wasn't hiding other bruises.
Joe felt his heart in his mouth.
A glance toward Frank told Joe his brother was just as aware of the bruises as he was.
"What happened to your dad?" Biff asked, coming over to Joe.
Joe shook his head, admitting he didn't know. Biff paused. He shifted for a second.
"Want to go and talk to them? Enough kids are."
He gestured toward some of the other pupils making their way over to the stands to talk to their parents because they weren't part of the first few matches.
Joe wanted to. He wanted answers about what had happened. But he felt like it would be a sign of weakness if he went over. If not to the Hardys, the other team would pick up on it. And Joe was determined to win. He wanted every advantage he could get and making the others think he was weak would only serve to make them more confident.
"No. I'll talk to him after."
Joe had won his matches. Not just that. He had been given a medal. Best Newcomer. It was hardly a title belt but Joe was over the moon. He had been unable to look away from the Hardys as they had beamed at him. Frank had been on his feet and cheering as the coach had put the medal around Joe's neck, clapped his shoulder proudly and said he had a promising future in wrestling. Joe couldn't wait to show the Hardys the medal up close, hang it up in pride of place in his room.
He'd get more have a whole row of them. Maybe Laura would hang a photograph of him receiving a medal or a trophy next to the one of Frank winning the science fair.
Joe was playing with the medal in the locker room long after the other boys had gone. He wanted to bask in the moment in peace a little while longer.
In truth, he had held plenty of medals. Marsden could tell them on easily to men who would melt them down and make knock-off jewellery. Joe had never thought about what they might have been given for, never thought about what they might have meant to the person he had stolen them from. He couldn't help but regret the sheer number he had stolen now that he had earnt one of his own.
The locker room door opened.
Joe got to his feet, assuming the janitor had shown up to start clearing up after the match. The Hardys were probably waiting for him anyway.
But it wasn't the janitor.
It took Joe a moment to recognise the young man standing in the doorway. His name was Will – Joe didn't know his surname – and he was from the school they had been competing against that day. Joe recognised him because Joe had beaten Will in his first match. It had been a decisive victory; Joe had made sure of that. Will was a good head taller than him – a lot stronger but slower. Joe had known the mental advantage it would give him over all the other boys if he took down such a competitor with relative ease. It made a statement.
And clearly Will wasn't happy about being used an example.
"Look at you, all alone. No friends, Hardy?" Will snarled.
Joe raised an eyebrow at him.
"You're alone too," he remarked.
He picked up his gym bag, going to move out of the locker room. Will let him pass. Joe immediately felt alarm bells ringing. He opened the door, prepared for an attack from behind. Instead, he saw two thugs on the other school's wrestling team were waiting there. They let him move out into the corridor, Will following behind him. Joe could understand why.
They wanted space for a fight.
"As you can see, I'm not alone," Will told Joe.
Joe shrugged. He thought about pulling on his gym bag but he chose to instead hold it. It would be easier to drop it if things turned nasty.
"Congratulations," Joe retorted. "Have a good evening."
He didn't want to fight Will. He just wanted to go and find the Hardys. It had been a good day, made brilliant by the medal around his neck. He wasn't going to let some brat with a grudge ruin it.
"Surprised they let you on the team. My school would never allow a rabid dog like you to compete."
Joe stopped, mid-step. He clenched his jaw. Will chuckled.
"We know all about you in my school," Will continued. "How you were the errand boy for some criminal. How you were tricked into thinking they were your parents. How dumb do you have to be to get tricked like that."
"I was four years old," Joe snapped back.
He knew there was no point. He knew the type. Will wasn't going to listen to him. He was looking for a fight, nothing more. Joe had bruised his ego. He was determined to bruise Joe in return.
Walk away. That was what Frank would want him to do. They'd talked a little about when to fight, especially when it came to bullies. Block if they swing the first punch. Don't give them a reason to try for a second blow. If they go for that second blow, then you fight. He was all about defending yourself if needed without being the one to start a fight that would have fizzled out in grandstanding.
So Joe turned away. He took a step down the corridor.
"Go on then! Go back to New York with your tail between your legs! No one wants you here!"
It was like someone else took the controls. Suddenly Joe was turning. He charged down the corridor, tackling Will. As one the two slammed hard into the floor of the corridor. Will was dazed.
Joe wanted to stop. He wanted to walk away, his point made. But he couldn't stop himself. He kept going, pounding blow upon blow into Will.
Someone shouted. Joe didn't know who. He couldn't look around. Will tried to shove him off, slammed desperate blows into Joe's arms.
Suddenly someone grabbed Joe. He felt himself being ripped off of Will. For a terrible moment, he was sure it was Marsden. He screamed, kicking out desperately.
"Joe, calm down!" a voice shouted.
Joe knew that voice. It was Fenton.
Joe wasn't sure why it made him stop. His heart was still racing. There was a chill running up and down his spine. The grip on him was firm, stopping him from getting away. But it didn't hurt. Marsden would have made sure it hurt.
As the haze settled, Joe took in the scene before him. Will's friends had scattered. It was just Will, lying alone in the corridor. He was trying to prop himself up, blood leaking from his nose.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here," a smug voice called.
Joe looked over his shoulder, glaring when he saw Watkins.
"I think we need to have a word in my office."
Joe felt numb as he walked to the car. Fenton had brought his own car, having driven straight back from New York to Bayport so he could attend the match. Laura had taken Frank home when they had heard about the fight. Joe had seen the text she had sent Fenton telling him her decision. She said the last thing they needed was Frank getting expelled too for laying into the principal.
Joe was not expelled but he could tell it had been very close. Joe was sure that if it had been anyone but Fenton in the office with him, he would have been. But Watkins seemed a lot timider with the detective in the room.
As a compromise, Joe had been banned for competing in any contact sports for the school and he would be expected to attend more sessions with Dr Miller – perhaps even other therapists and psychologists to work out if Joe's case was even more serious than previously thought.
Fenton said nothing as he walked Joe to the car. Joe had been allowed to keep his medal but suddenly it hadn't seemed so important anymore. He had left on the chair in Watkins' office. Fenton sighed as he climbed into the driver's seat.
"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" he asked.
"No," Joe said.
"Joe," Fenton pleaded.
"Why don't you tell me where you got that and I'll tell you what happened?" Joe said, gesturing toward Fenton's black eye.
Closer to his father than before, Joe could see the bruises on Fenton's neck. It looked like someone had tried to strangle him. Joe had had similar bruises more than once.
"I got it chasing down a lead in New York," Fenton said, tightly.
"What lead?"
"It doesn't matter."
Joe looked away, growling under his breath that clearly it did matter if Fenton was willing to die for it. Fenton shook his head.
"It matters because justice matters, Joe. It's what I do. I get people justice. And if that means putting my neck on the line sometimes, I will."
"I'm not asking you to stop," Joe snapped back. "I'm asking who did that to you. Maybe I'll know something about them, something you can use so you won't get beaten up the next time you are there."
Fenton shook his head.
"Joe, I am not telling you who did this. You think I want you painting a target on your back acting like some police informant? You're fourteen! You are a fourteen-year-old boy who I can't even trust not to get into trouble with the kids at his school. I am not-"
Anything further he had to sat was cut off by Joe opening the car door. Fenton watched as the blond teenager climbed out of the vehicle, striding across the dark parking lot.
"You have got to be kidding me," Fenton growled.
He got out of the car, glowering at Joe.
"What are you doing?" Fenton demanded.
"Walking home," Joe said.
He continued walking.
"Joseph Irving Hardy, you get back in that car right now!"
"Or what?" Joe shouted over his shoulder.
He pressed on. And then a large shadow fell across him. Joe turned, seeing Fenton standing right behind him, face like thunder. He couldn't help but feel his sink run cold. Marsden had been a brute but he had been untrained. Fenton was muscular and tall, well-trained in taking someone down. Joe was sure the man probably knew dozens of ways to hurt him without leaving a mark Joe could present to the police.
Still, Joe forced himself to stand strong. If he let Fenton see how scared he really was, it would likely only encourage him. And Joe didn't want to convince Fenton to do something even more violent than whatever he had planned.
"I am your father, Joe! You have to listen to me! Get back in that car right now or I'll…"
"You'll what?" Joe shouted.
"I'll send you to a reform school myself!" Fenton snarled.
Joe froze. He clenched his jaw. Then he turned on his heel. He marched back toward the car getting inside. He had his eyes fixed onto the car park beyond even as he heard Fenton getting into the seat beside him. Joe pulled out his phone, brought up Frank's number and prepared to make a call if anything happened.
"Seatbelt," Fenton said gruffly.
Joe hurried to obey, not wanting the man to have a reason to even reach toward him. Then the car pulled out of the parking space.
Joe went straight up to his room. He heard Laura and Frank calling after him but ignored them. He forced open his bedroom door, slammed it shut behind him and threw himself onto the bed.
He wanted to break things. He wanted to scream. He wanted to climb out of the window and run off into the night. He could steal something. That made him feel powerful. He'd steal something that no one would be able to link back to him, just so he felt like he wasn't so small and helpless.
But he stopped himself.
The detective downstairs would work it out. And then Joe would find himself shipped off to some reform school, forbidden from contacting Frank and Laura. Or else Fenton would go even further, get him sent off to Juvie where he would be the lowest of the low because he had ratted on Marsden.
There was nothing he could do. He had burnt all his bridges to become a Hardy. He had nowhere to turn if it didn't work out.
Joe felt frustrated tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. He screamed into his pillow, beating his legs against his mattress. That was enough to get the anger out. Soon it was just sorrow and fear left. He sobbed, wishing things had never changed, wishing he had never even met Frank. Things hadn't been perfect but they'd been steady. He knew where he stood.
Joe heard his bedroom door creaking open. He froze, tensing up. He prepared to move, to make a run for it. And he forced all tears to stop. He knew it was obvious he had been crying on his face but he was facing away from the door and he didn't want them to know.
"Look, I'm sorry for what I said, Joe. I was upset. I was hoping today was going to be perfect. I know I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
It was Fenton's voice, quiet, faltering. Joe saw through it immediately.
"You're lying," Joe said. "I can tell you're lying. I know when cops lie."
"I'm not lying, Joe. I'm really sorry for-"
"I'm tired. I want to sleep. Goodnight, Mr Hardy."
I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as you can enjoy a chapter where things go so wrong. Please consider leaving a review. They mean so much.