Incomplete Joe Hardy story
Title: Untitled
Author: cosmosmariner
Pairing: no pairing
Rating: T
Summary: Joe discusses life without Frank.
Disclaimer: I am not affliated with "Franklin W. Dixon, or the syndicate which produces the Hardy Boys series of novels
I have been attempting to write Joe Hardy slash, but I'm only getting the set up so far. Here's all I have:
I never thought the day would come. I was still at Bayport University, and wouldn't be graduating for another year. Frank had graduated, and with his intelligence, he was given a full scholarship to a graduate school further down the coast, seemingly a million hours away by car. Frank had accepted and was packing up his books, clothing, baseball pennants, and a small detective kit. I helped him load the boxes into Dad's car. Dad and Mom were going to drive down to North Carolina with Frank and leaving me with Aunt Gertrude. I had never felt so alone in my life.
Callie and Frank had broken up during the summer when she realized he was leaving town, and she was dating Tony Amato. Iola and Chet Morton were spending the summer in Florida, swimming with dolphins. I really was alone.
Aunt Gertrude had made my favorite dinner - veal cutlets, carrots, and minted peas - but I had barely touched my plate. "What's the matter, Joe? Are you sick?" she asked.
I replied that I was fine, but just not hungry. I hopped in the sports car (Frank was kind enough to leave it for me) and drove around town. Bayport had changed in the last few years. Fast food joints were popping up on the byways; whole new neighborhoods took the place of farms that had once lined the roads. Instead of abundant green space, strip malls dotted the landscape. The school administrators were building a new high school. Frank and I had so many good times in the old one.
Chief Fennig had retired, and they brought in a hotshot guy from Philadelphia to take his place. What few friends we had left on the police force let me know right away that Chief Mallick would not tolerate "kids in official business". With Frank gone, who could help me with any type of detective work anyway?
With no brother, no close friends, and no cases to work on, I was going stir crazy. It made me restless, and when I became restless, I started to think about Iola and what I was putting her through. It wasn't fair, I guess. Jesus, it wasn't fair to anyone, but what could I do about it? I was driving by the ice cream shop when I noticed a fellow sitting outside on the picnic table. He was licking a popsicle with finesse. I stopped in the parking lot and got out to grab a dipped cone. I noticed the guy on the picnic table was staring at me. I walked closer and realized it was a school chum of mine, Leslie Duncan.
Leslie and I were not the best of friends. In fact, outside of study groups and classroom assignments, I barely knew him. Still, an acquaintance was better than nothing.
"Hi, Les."
"Joe Hardy! Not seeing your brother off, are you?"
I hestitated, and then shook my head. "I already did. It's going to be lonely without him."
"Hey, if you need someone to fill the void, you know who to call," he said, then he pointed to himself.
"Les," I started.
"I know we aren't the best of friends, Joe," Leslie said, "but I think we can be, if you give me a chance. We're a lot more alike than you realize."
I couldn't help but smile. It was the most he had said to me outside of a classroom, and I realized he was a really nice guy. "Sure, Leslie. I'll keep it in mind."
I said goodbye and jumped back into my car. Driving aimlessly, I went out into the woods, passed the Morton farm, and toward a small ramshackled cabin in the middle of a thicket. It was Chet's "secret hiding place".
Chet's cabin was a perfect getaway spot, with the exception of the posters of Penthouse pets tacked on the walls and sticky Hustler magazines strewn all over the floor. Aunt Gertrude was right about him in one way - he is a disgusting little pervert.
I saw the little ham radio that Chet kept in the cabin, and kept thinking about when Frank and I would sit around our bedroom operating Frank's radio. We would intercept mob broadcasts or mystery signals from smugglers. It was so much fun. Feeling nostaglic, I clicked on the radio Chet had, hoping to hear something exciting. Nothing.
When I returned home, Aunt Gertrude chewed me out. "Joe Hardy! You should be ashamed! Your mother has called three times since you stormed out. Where have you been, young man?"
"I was visiting some friends," I lied.
"Probably getting into trouble, like you usually do. I'm glad Frank is gone. It's one less boy to worry about."
I walked up to our room - my room, now that Frank was gone. The faded blue curtains and pinstriped duvet cover reminded me so much of my brother. I looked through my petty cash. I had to make this room my own, and erase the memory of Frank. New curtains and bed linens would do nicely, maybe a touch of paint for the wainscoting.
My mind kept wandering toward Leslie Duncan.
Later that afternoon, while making my way through linens and paint chips and wondering what would go with what, I heard Aunt Gertrude yelling for me from downstairs. "Joe! Joe Hardy, get down here. Your mother is on the phone."
I ran downstairs and grabbed the extenstion in Dad's office. "Hello?"
"Oh, Joe! It's really beautiful down here. We wish you could have come with us."
"It's all right, mom. I'm fine here."
I heard her mumbling to my father. "Joe, Dad and I are going to stay down here for a few days, sort of a vacation. We've got to spend one evening with Frank before he starts trying to find his way around school. Don't drive Gertrude nuts while we're gone, okay?"
"Sure, Mom. I... tell Frank I said hello."
"All right, then. Good bye!"
Author: cosmosmariner
Pairing: no pairing
Rating: T
Summary: Joe discusses life without Frank.
Disclaimer: I am not affliated with "Franklin W. Dixon, or the syndicate which produces the Hardy Boys series of novels
I have been attempting to write Joe Hardy slash, but I'm only getting the set up so far. Here's all I have:
I never thought the day would come. I was still at Bayport University, and wouldn't be graduating for another year. Frank had graduated, and with his intelligence, he was given a full scholarship to a graduate school further down the coast, seemingly a million hours away by car. Frank had accepted and was packing up his books, clothing, baseball pennants, and a small detective kit. I helped him load the boxes into Dad's car. Dad and Mom were going to drive down to North Carolina with Frank and leaving me with Aunt Gertrude. I had never felt so alone in my life.
Callie and Frank had broken up during the summer when she realized he was leaving town, and she was dating Tony Amato. Iola and Chet Morton were spending the summer in Florida, swimming with dolphins. I really was alone.
Aunt Gertrude had made my favorite dinner - veal cutlets, carrots, and minted peas - but I had barely touched my plate. "What's the matter, Joe? Are you sick?" she asked.
I replied that I was fine, but just not hungry. I hopped in the sports car (Frank was kind enough to leave it for me) and drove around town. Bayport had changed in the last few years. Fast food joints were popping up on the byways; whole new neighborhoods took the place of farms that had once lined the roads. Instead of abundant green space, strip malls dotted the landscape. The school administrators were building a new high school. Frank and I had so many good times in the old one.
Chief Fennig had retired, and they brought in a hotshot guy from Philadelphia to take his place. What few friends we had left on the police force let me know right away that Chief Mallick would not tolerate "kids in official business". With Frank gone, who could help me with any type of detective work anyway?
With no brother, no close friends, and no cases to work on, I was going stir crazy. It made me restless, and when I became restless, I started to think about Iola and what I was putting her through. It wasn't fair, I guess. Jesus, it wasn't fair to anyone, but what could I do about it? I was driving by the ice cream shop when I noticed a fellow sitting outside on the picnic table. He was licking a popsicle with finesse. I stopped in the parking lot and got out to grab a dipped cone. I noticed the guy on the picnic table was staring at me. I walked closer and realized it was a school chum of mine, Leslie Duncan.
Leslie and I were not the best of friends. In fact, outside of study groups and classroom assignments, I barely knew him. Still, an acquaintance was better than nothing.
"Hi, Les."
"Joe Hardy! Not seeing your brother off, are you?"
I hestitated, and then shook my head. "I already did. It's going to be lonely without him."
"Hey, if you need someone to fill the void, you know who to call," he said, then he pointed to himself.
"Les," I started.
"I know we aren't the best of friends, Joe," Leslie said, "but I think we can be, if you give me a chance. We're a lot more alike than you realize."
I couldn't help but smile. It was the most he had said to me outside of a classroom, and I realized he was a really nice guy. "Sure, Leslie. I'll keep it in mind."
I said goodbye and jumped back into my car. Driving aimlessly, I went out into the woods, passed the Morton farm, and toward a small ramshackled cabin in the middle of a thicket. It was Chet's "secret hiding place".
Chet's cabin was a perfect getaway spot, with the exception of the posters of Penthouse pets tacked on the walls and sticky Hustler magazines strewn all over the floor. Aunt Gertrude was right about him in one way - he is a disgusting little pervert.
I saw the little ham radio that Chet kept in the cabin, and kept thinking about when Frank and I would sit around our bedroom operating Frank's radio. We would intercept mob broadcasts or mystery signals from smugglers. It was so much fun. Feeling nostaglic, I clicked on the radio Chet had, hoping to hear something exciting. Nothing.
When I returned home, Aunt Gertrude chewed me out. "Joe Hardy! You should be ashamed! Your mother has called three times since you stormed out. Where have you been, young man?"
"I was visiting some friends," I lied.
"Probably getting into trouble, like you usually do. I'm glad Frank is gone. It's one less boy to worry about."
I walked up to our room - my room, now that Frank was gone. The faded blue curtains and pinstriped duvet cover reminded me so much of my brother. I looked through my petty cash. I had to make this room my own, and erase the memory of Frank. New curtains and bed linens would do nicely, maybe a touch of paint for the wainscoting.
My mind kept wandering toward Leslie Duncan.
Later that afternoon, while making my way through linens and paint chips and wondering what would go with what, I heard Aunt Gertrude yelling for me from downstairs. "Joe! Joe Hardy, get down here. Your mother is on the phone."
I ran downstairs and grabbed the extenstion in Dad's office. "Hello?"
"Oh, Joe! It's really beautiful down here. We wish you could have come with us."
"It's all right, mom. I'm fine here."
I heard her mumbling to my father. "Joe, Dad and I are going to stay down here for a few days, sort of a vacation. We've got to spend one evening with Frank before he starts trying to find his way around school. Don't drive Gertrude nuts while we're gone, okay?"
"Sure, Mom. I... tell Frank I said hello."
"All right, then. Good bye!"