Frank was too late to catch Joe as his brother was flung backward. Taking a flying leap, Frank landed with a crash on the bleacher seats two rows down, where he was able to grab Joe as he tumbled.
Jillie and lola rushed to the two boys. “Are you all right?” lola cried.
“I must have died and gone to heaven,” Joe said in a dreamy voice, looking up at the girls. “But why are all the angels in cheerleaders’ outfits?”
“Joe!” Frank said in concern, leaning over his brother.
Joe gave him a wink, whispering, “Play along with me, bro.”
“Will you stop fooling around?” Frank demanded, trying to smother a chuckle. Then he saw Someone on the gym floor walking toward them and his laughter died.
The Commotion on the bleachers hadn’t gone unnoticed. “What’s the problem here?” Coach Moran called up to them.
There was a long moment of silence. Then Jillie Logan mumbled. “Jake Berman pushed Joe.”
“Come down here, Berman,” Coach Moran ordered.
Jake went down the stairs as if each step hurt him. He stood silently before Coach Moran.
“Did you push Joe?”
Berman scowled at Jillie, then turned to the coach. “I couldn’t say. Everything happened fast---”
By this time the basketball team and the cheer leaders had gathered around the coach, who cut Jake off. “ Don’t act smart with me, kid”
Frank could see the muscles along Jake’s jaws bunch as he clamped his month shut.
“If you disrupt my practice again,” Coach Moran continued, “I guarantee you won’t be playing in any championship game.”
“Then maybe I should go. Right, Coach?” Jake said. To Frank’s ears, the words sounded almost cocky.
Coach Moran shook his head in disgust. “Good bye, Berman. I let you hold up practice long enough. Perhaps that was your intention.”
“All I wanted to do was patch things up with my girlfriend,” Jake protested. “Then the Hardys butted in—”
“Berman, button your lips and make tracks. Now!” Coach Moran said sternly.
Berman shrugged and headed away. But after a few strides he turned and pointed a long menacing finger in the Hardys’ direction. “I going to make you guys pay. All of you. You wait and see,”
“Now!” Coach Moran bellowed again.
As Jake Berman skulked off, Coach Moran said to the Hardys, “Guys, do me a favor. For the rest of practice, keep your minds and bodies on the court, okay?”
“Right, Coach, Frank promised.
Joe nodded his agreement as their teammates and the cheerleaders returned to their respective practices.
When they finished, the Hardys showered and headed for the gym exit. They were going to meet Callie and Lola for pizza.
Frank pushed open the gym door and started down the corridor that led to the side exit of the building. Then he stepped back, pinching his nose. The floor was wet and smelled of disinfectant.
“What lamebrain slopped all this stuff around?” Joe demanded. “We could slip and break our necks.” His nose wrinkled. “Or end up stinking something awful,”
Frank nodded toward the windows in the side exit doors, “There’s your answer—Mr. Hooley, the new janitor. I’m afraid he’s got a lot to learn about the custodian business.”
Outside, Frank could see Mr. Hooley leaning against a handcart filled with cleaning supplies. He was talking to someone, but at first Frank couldn’t see who it was. Then the other person passed the windows.
It was Marvin Coates. He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and jotted something down on a piece of paper he’d pulled from the janitor’s cart. Coates handed the paper to the janitor, patted him on the arm, and walked away.
‘What do you think that was all about?” Joe wondered aloud.
“You got me,” Frank said. “Maybe he’s trying to win Mr. Hooley’s vote for the election.” He grinned “Or maybe those are the measurements for the new scoreboard.”
“I like that thought.” Joe laughed. “But let’s forget about Marvin’s note. I think I hear someone tilling my name.” He patted his stomach, which rumbled hungrily. “And it must be Mr. Pizza telling me my pie is ready.” 1”rank laughed. “Okay, let’s go.”
A few minutes later, the Hardys strolled into Mr. l The sight and smell of pepperoni and melting these made Frank’s mouth water. They slid I hunt Ii already occupied by Callie, Iola, Julie, and Chet. Jillie immediately began to apologize. “Hey guys, I’m sorry—”
Frank held up his hand to silence her. “You don’t have to apologize for Jake—”
“But—” Jilhie interrupted him,
“If Berman tries anything, we’ll have the last laugh. You can trust me on that,” Joe added,
“I meant the pizza,” Julie finally said. “I’m sorry we didn’t save you any.”
Chet looked up with an air of innocence as he stuffed the last piece of pizza into his mouth. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know Frank and Joe were coming.”
“Yeah, right, Tell me another one,” Joe joked. Frank signaled the waitress and ordered another large pie
“We were talking about the new scoreboard Marvin Coates is donating,” Callie said. “I hear it’s going to have a camera mounted on it that can show instant replays on a giant monitor.”
“Four monitors,” Chet said. “This thing will be state of the art, all the way. It’ll be like a huge cube, with giant screens on each side. No matter where you’re seated, you’ll see all the action.”
“Including some close-ups of the cheerleaders, I hope,” Iola said.
“Hey, that sounds good to me!” Joe cracked. Iola elbowed Joe hard in the ribs and he laughed.
“Today’s paper said the scoreboard is suppose to cost a million dollars.” Jillie said as Frank scooted over to make room for Phil Cohen, who had just joined them. “That’s more than the whole sports budget for my school last year.”
“Coates can afford it,” Chet said, taking a slice from the new pizza the waitress placed on the table. “The guy’s rich with a capital R. Made a fortune in the import-export business.”
“You know, this scoreboard thing isn’t a done dcal,” Phil reminded everyone. “Everybody is say ing that the Slickers are seven-point favorites. And that’s in our gym. It could be a blowout.”
“Who pays attention to point spreads, anyway?” Joe said, grinning.
“My dad told me Marvin Coates has all the money in the world,” Iola said.
‘So why doesn’t he bankroll the bay front project?” Frank asked, recalling the articles he’d read that morning.
“Maybe his cash is tied up in investments,” Callie reasoned. “It’s not like these rich guys keep all their money in their mattresses.”
‘And running for mayor can eat up a chunk of t’li Campaigns don’t come cheap,” Chet
added.
Speaking of Marvin Coates,” Frank said, shift tug lis gaze to Phil, “you know his nephew, don’t
You mean Todd?” Phil shrugged. “I used to know Ii as well as anyone can get to know that guy. We were in the same computer club together at the rec center before he quit. He’s a brilliant hacker. Temperamental but brilliant.” Phil helped himself to a slice of pizza.
“Why’d he quit?” Frank asked.
“There was a big stink about him releasing a computer virus or something. No one could prove it, but most everyone believed it. It just seemed like something Todd would do. He’s kind of a rebel, like the way he’d dump on his uncle, saying all busi nessmen were crooks. Anyway, after the rumor about the computer virus spread, everybody in the computer club kept giving him funny looks. I think it got to him finally. One day he just stormed out and never came back—”
Phil’s words were cut short when Jamal appeared at their table. He looked as if he’d just come off the basketball court. “I was hoping I’d find you guys here.”
“What’s up?” Frank asked.
“I was playing a little one-on-one at the rec center with Glen Revelie when Jake Berman showed up. Jake was mouthing off about how you and Joe made him look bad in front of his girl- friend”
“Er-girlfriend,” Julie corrected.
“Jake didn’t need our help to look bad,” Joe added. “He managed to do that all by himself.”
“Yeah, well, maybe,” Jamal said, “But he seemed pretty bent out of shape. I just wanted you guys to know. Jake has some rough friends. Sometimes they get carried away.”
“Maybe they were already at work, making threatening phone calls,” Joe added.
Everyone at the table turned to stare at Joe.
“What phone call?” Jamal asked.
“Have a seat, Jamal,” Joe said. “This could take a while. And help yourself,” he added, nodding to the pizza.
“Thanks.” Jamal pulled up a chair. He ordered a large cola and took a slice.
Joe told Jamal and the others at the table about the previous night’s phone call.
“So you think it was Jake who made the call?” Iola asked. She gave Julie a nervous look.
“Not necessarily,” Frank objected. “It could have been one of Jake’s punk friends, trying to lend a helping hand. Jake might not even know it happened.” He shrugged. “Although I don’t think he’d mind right now. Not only are we rivals on the court, but he dislikes us up close and personal, too.”
Joe frowned. “That lady at the phone booth said sb saw someone walking away who was tall and wearing a hood.”
So you think it was a hood in a hood?” Callie
But Joe didn’t laugh. “I keep thinking that Glen revelle was wearing a hooded sweatshirt last night”
“He was really upset when he lost the game to us.” Frank nodded thoughtfully. “And listening to his father chew him out didn’t help.”
“So you think Glen made that call?” Jamal asked. “But why?” a puzzled Phil Cohen wanted to know. “1 mean, his team is out. It’s a done deal. We’re playing the Slickers for the championship.”
“Glen’s sort of friendly with Jake Berman,” I Jamal admitted. “They spent some summers to gether at basketball camps. Maybe they’re both up to something together.” Jamal shook his head vig orously. “I know Glen, though. He may be an intense guy, but he’s not a punk like Jake Berman. If Glen did make the call, he was probably just blowing off steam.”
They finished up the last of the pizza and every one got up to leave.
“Jillie and I are going to the mall,” lola an nounced. “Anyone else want to come?”
“Count me in,” Callie said.
“No, thanks,” Joe said. “Frank and I have to go to the rec center and work out. Right, Frank?”
“Uh, right.” Frank agreed, realizing what his brother was up to. He knew that shopping wasn’t Joe’s idea of fun.
The group split up. Phil left with some of his friends who had been sitting at another table. Frank and Joe gave Jamal a lift to the rec center. Jamal was still in his sweats and headed right for the gym. The Hardys went to the locker room.
Frank opened his locker and pulled out his running gear. “I’m going to go for a run. You want to come along?”
“I’m going to pump some iron. Catch me in the weight room in half an hour,” Joe said.
“Okay,” Frank said, lacing up his running shoes. “Don’t strain a brain muscle.”
Frank hurried outside and began to jog toward a well-beaten path behind the rec center. He ran up a steep incline and along the rim of the woods. Ominous dark clouds were rolling across the dusky sky.
As Frank continued up the winding path, the wind shrieked, bending the treetops sharply. Defi nitely a storm on the way, he thought. He decided to head back to the rec center before he got drenched.
But as Frank turned, something seemed to explode out of the woods, ramming into him from behind with the force of a battering ram.
Frank had time for one yell of surprise as he found himself flung down the steep dirt embank A tree trunk seemed to appear out of no where to knock the wind out of him. When he bounced off that, he rolled some more until he struck his head on a rock jutting out of the dirt.
Finally he hit bottom, landing badly on one leg. for second his vision disappeared in a flare of
O pain seared its way up from his ankle.
ink pushed himself up on his hands and knees.
Little stars began to swirl madly inside his head. But he strained his eyes, searching upward along the steep hillside. At first, all he could see was the ragged outline of bending treetops, moving black branches against a blacker sky.
Then Frank made out a human figure standing on the hilltop, a shadow in a shadow staring down at him.
Frank leaped to his feet, trying to focus, to catch some detail that might identify his attacker. Above him, something glittered in the moonlight.
But as Frank’s weight came down on his injured ankle, a new blast of pain washed over him.
It was too much for his battered body. The gleam disappeared as blackness blotted out Frank’s mind.
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