I really wish I owned it, but I don't.

Anyone who has a brother, or a best friend, I guess, knows that one of the worst feelings you can get is that flippy thing your stomach does when you see them hope. If you've never felt it, you probably will.

Joe looked at me, and in his eyes were two emotions I hoped would never be mixed, fear and confusion. I raised his shirt until it was just above the wound, and had to look away as soon as I saw it. There was a three inch gash in my brother's side, and it was really deep.

Joe's face was scrunched up in pain, and by the way his eyes were watering, you could tell that he was trying very hard not to scream. "Put your hands on my shoulders. Don't look." Joe put his arms on top of my red shirt, they were shaking. "This is going to hurt."

I had already torn off a piece of the sweatshirt and, as quickly as I could, placed it over the gash. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and Joe instinctively moved his body away from me. "You can't do that, Joe, it needs pressure."

Don't ask me how my voice was so calm when inside, I was screaming. I didn't know how deep the cut was, and for those of you who don't know, your stomach area holds a lot of stuff that you can't find at Wal-Mart.

Three minutes ago, we were trying to solve a mystery. Now Joe had a potentially fatal injury. One that was bigger then the other dozen or so on the rest of his body.

It's really amazing what can happen in three minutes.

"An ambulance is on its way."

I looked up, focusing my eyes on the boy who was standing above me. I had totally forgotten about Jordan. Jordan pushed his wet, dark hair out of his eyes, and I could see how pale he was. But I managed a small smile. "Good thinking. Thanks."

A low hiss from Joe made me turn back towards him. I was glad to see that the makeshift bandage was doing its job; the wound must not have been as deep as I thought. But Joe was pale. I pushed the hair away from his face and tried to calm him down. He was suffering more from shock then anything. Who wouldn't?

Joe was still pale when the ambulance arrived, but he was able to climb inside himself. I promised to meet his at the hospital ― I had to get a tow truck for the van.

Jordan offered me a lift to the hospital, and I took it gratefully. Not only would I have a mode of transportation, but I'd be able to ask him a couple questions.

Don't look at me like that. Was I worried about Joe? Damn straight I was worried. But believe me, I had seen Joe much worse off. And I really needed some information, otherwise where would I start the investigation?

Jordan had barely gotten out of the driveway when I started in on him. "So why didn't your mom freak out when she saw the ambulance?"

Jordan, who was still pale, when a shade whiter, "Well, she's been on these real heavy painkillers since Katie disappeared. She's asleep most of the time when she's not working the night shift."

Without thinking, I asked another question, "And your dad?" I know, I have a lot of tact, don't I? But my head was in about three hundred different places.

But Jordan answered my question without emotion. "He's gone. Just disappeared off the face of the Earth about four years ago. Haven't seen him since."

Now you can't really blame me for wanting to get off that subject. "I don't really know your sister all that well, what's she like?" You'll notice I didn't use past tense, it's 'cause it frightens a lot of people.

Jordan pushed his hair out of his eyes again, "She's a real nice girl, and not just because she's my sister. She's popular but I don't think she even knows it. She'll just as soon hang out with the class dork as a jock. I don't think she can even distinguish black from white, 'cause she sometimes brought home these big 'ol black kids that would scare the living daylights out of everyone else." He paused for a second, and seemed to be remembering something.

"Everybody liked her, in case you were wondering. She nice to everyone. Got good grades, but not in a teacher's pet kind of way. She stuck up for what she believed in, though. That's what got her in trouble a lot of the time. If she didn't agree with something, she'd just flat out not do it. Oh, and she never drank a day in her life."

We were pulling into Bayport hospital by now. Jordan took one look at the place and tuned a kind of greenish gray that made me sick just looking at it. "Mind if I drop you off here?"

I didn't mind at all. I had a lot to think about.

When I finally found the right room in the right wing, I saw that mom and dad were all ready there. They had been in the hospital so many times for one or both of us that I think they sometimes drive there in their sleep.

The doctor was just finishing sewing up the last of my brother's wounds. "How many stitches?" Joe asked, hopping off the table and regretting it when he almost fell over.

"In all? Fifty-six. No more jumping for at least three days, though. You probably shouldn't do anything energetic for a week. And don't break the stitches."

Mom and dad talked to the doctor, because they knew they weren't getting much information out of us. Joe and I walked right out of that room. It smelled like being dead.

"They should have given you some blood." I said quietly as Joe leaned against me. He smiled up at me, but I could tell he was tired.

"They wanted to. But if I get anymore of someone else's blood pumped into me, they'll be no more of mine." Joe almost fell, but I caught him just in time. "I'm getting that guy, Frank." He said, his voice hard. "He's going to pay."

Oh yeah, was he going to pay. Nobody hurts my brother and gets away with it. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Okay, I worked really hard on this. You have to review.