Author: I.Call.Him.Billy.S PM
"You're making it worse, Frank." "You're driving me crazy, Joe" "Would both of you shut up?" Meet Jemma Hardy, the other mystery solverRated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Drama - Joe H. & Frank H. - Chapters: 3 - Words: 5,645 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 03-01-11 - Published: 02-27-11 - id: 6783211
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N- I always think of something unique thought for every book I read. For the Hardy Brothers books, I always think of a twin sister for Joe. Sometimes, I even think of myself as the younger sister for them. It was fun. Well, I happened to be reading through all my hardy Boys books (the newer books, not the ones from the 70s, 80s, and 90s). So, here's my idea for the Super Mystery (and my all time favorite Hardy Boys mystery) Wanted. You should read it before reading mine to find the contrasts, but you will understand if you don't. So, here's the full summary:
When Frank was a year old, he thought that he would get a little brother. Instead, he got a little brother and a sister. The siblings all grew up well and, when Frank was 15 and the twins were 14, they were introduced to ATAC (American Teens Against Crime). They didn't start missions until a year later, when they finished their training. So, after 2 years of doing missions together, as a great team, they thought that they would be prepared for anything. But they weren't.
One day, Frank, Joe, and Jemma were trying to catch two thugs. They had been captured because they asked too many questions and they escaped. But when they got home (and raked the lawn) they received a package from ATAC, telling them that someone was impersonating them. All three of them.
As my disclaimer for the whole book, cause I want this story to look pretty (XD): I only own Jemma (who actually, in real life, happens to be my best friend, so I don't really own her either). I do not own, nor am I making a profit off of anything.
It was the perfect day for a bank robbery.
The weatherman had predicted rain and, for once, he was right. The sky was filled with dark gray storm clouds. A rumble of thunder shook the ground, and a sudden downpour drove everyone from the streets.
That meant fewer witnesses.
Two boys and a girl stood on the sidewalk in the rain, watching and waiting.
The youngest, a teenage boy, yawned. "Why are we doing this so early? I'm still half asleep."
His blonde haired sister sighed. "Because people cash their paychecks every Friday at lunch hour. So the tellers fill their drawers with extra money in the morning."
"How do you know?"
"I'm the smart twin, remember?"
"Yeah, right." The blonde boy rubbed his eyes. "I just want to go back to bed."
Their older brother turned to glare at the blonde boy he sometimes hated to call his brother. "Well too bad. We've been planning this for weeks. You can't wimp out now."
They turned and gazed through the huge plate-glass window of the bank. It was almost empty inside – except for the couple of older ladies waiting in line.
"Now's our chance," said the dark hired brother. "Let's go!"
They pulled the hoods of their windbreakers over their heads and entered the front door of the bank. An overweight bank guard leaned back in a chair, snoring loudly.
The siblings ignored him and marched straight up to the front of the bank line.
"Excuse me, young lady," said one of the older women in line, tapping the blonde girl on the shoulder. "We were here first."
"Get over it, Grandma. We're in a hurry," the younger girl snapped back.
The teller behind the window looked up at the brothers and sister. She had curly red hair, think glasses – and a puzzled look on her face. "Um, could I help you?" she asked.
The dark haired teen reached into his pocket and pulled out a note. Quickly unfolding it, he slipped it beneath the glass window.
The teller glanced down to read the message. "Oh, my," she muttered. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
They had expected a reaction like this.
The note said: "Empty your cash drawer into a bag and no one will get hurt."
The younger girl leaned toward the window and lowered her voice. "Don't even think about pushing the alarm button, either."
The teller bit her lip and started trembling.
"Don't mess it up, lady," the younger boy added. "Just give us the money."
The red-haired woman nodded nervously and opened her cash drawer. With shaky hands, she began stuffing wads of cash into a zippered bag.
"That's it," said the older boy. "Just fill up the bag. And don't try anything funny."
The teller emptied the entire cash drawer into the bag, then zipped it up.
"Now, slide it under the window," the girl said.
The woman took a deep breath and pushed the bag through the slot. The older brother grabbed it and smiled. "Thanks, Ma'am," he said. "It was nice doing business with you."
They turned and started walking out of the bank.
That's when the red-haired teller pushed the alarm button.
The sleeping guard almost fell out of his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked up.
"Stop them!" the teller shrieked. "They just robbed the bank!"
The security guard reached for his gun.
"Freeze!" the older boy shouted. "Get down on the ground or we'll blow the place up!"
"Yeah!" said the younger boy. "We're wired with explosives!"
The guard dropped his arm away from the gun. Slowly, he lowered himself down on the floor. The two older women in line gasped.
"You too, ladies!" the younger girl yelled. "Get down!"
The women in line squealed and squatted down, covering their faces.
"Don't move until we're gone," said the younger girl. 'Start counting to five hundred."
The guard and the women started counting.
The older boy looked at his twin siblings. "C'mon," he said. "Joe, Jemma, let's get out of here."
"I'm right behind you, Frank."
The siblings ran out of the bank and into the rain.
Chapter 1- Jemma
Have you ever been tied up with two total idiots, both of them being your brothers? And them both fighting about why we got caught? Well, if you have, you know how I feel.
"Don't say it," Frank was saying. "I mean it. Don't say anything."
My twin brother, Joe Hardy, wisely clamped his mouth shut. I could tell easily, though, that he was close to cracking.
Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "I told ya so," he snickered.
Frank shot him an evil glare from where he was tied up. "Okay, you said it. Now, how do we get out of this?"
Frank started wriggling around, but the ropes only seemed to tighten more.
"You're making it worse, Frank."
"You're driving me crazy, Joe."
I spoke up for the first time since being captured. "Well, Joe can help me dig my knife out of my boot while you sit there and mope like a little girl," I explained sarcastically.
They both turned to stare at me strangely. "You had your knife in your shoe the whole time and you didn't tell us?"
"Yeah," I said. "But you two were too busy fighting to ask me if I kept something, which is always on my person, mind you, in my boot that could help us escape. Didn't I tell you that's the reason I was stopped at airport security when we were going to LA? I had forgotten to take the knife out of my boot before going through the metal detector." They were still looking at me strangely.
"If one of you would take my boot off, I could turn and pick it up and start untying us. But, since people happen to like typing my hands to my belt loops, I can't do it."
Joe started wriggling toward my feet and used one hand to pull my boot off. At one point, though, it felt like her was trying to pull my foot off with the boot. "Ouch, watch it. There's something inside that thing called a foot. That foot happens to be connected to an ankle, which is part of a leg, which is part of my body." I felt Joe slap at my leg with his other hand after my boot was off. He picked up the knife and stuck it in my hand.
I worked at the ropes as quickly as I could. I winced painfully when I accidently slid the knife at my thumb and I felt the skin on my knuckles open and sand got into the open wound.
"You okay?" Frank asked when I dropped the knife.
I looked at him and, through clenched teeth, said, "Yeah. Joe, hand me my knife again."
Joe reached back and placed the sharp implement back in my hand. It stung my whole hand to clench the knife, but I did it anyway. Finally, my hands were freed. Once my hands were back in front of me, I saw that the cut on my hand wasn't too bad, but it wasn't going to be easy to explain to Mom and Aunt Trudy how I got three or four stitches on my hand. Either way, it hurt.
I worked the knife back and forth at my ankles before slicing my brothers' ropes away. They both stood up and we looked around. I looked toward the beach.
"There! That's them!" I yelled, pointing. Down in the sand were the four thugs that had tied us up. Beside them was a yellow jeep, perfect for the sandy ground. My gaze landed on another vehicle, about thirty feet away from the bad guys.
"Well, let's go jack a dune buggy and play chicken!" Okay, okay hold up. That is not really what Joe said. What he really said was, "Well, let's go stop them!" But the first was what I heard. Joe was not a total idiot, but he did have only about a quarter of the brains out of him and me.
I rolled my eyes at my total dweebish brothers as I scurried down the sand and onto the actual beach. Frank and Joe were already running after the thugs, who were charging toward their dune buggy. I looked around again, trying to find the yellow jeep.
I walked over to one of the guys near it. "Hey, buddy. Mind if I borrow your jeep? My brothers are the ones that are way over there and trying to get pulverized by those beach thugs."
The blonde guy I was talking too nodded quickly and handed over a key.
I gave him my sweetest, innocent smile. "Thanks!"
I jumped into the dune buggy and started the engine. It purred to life and I took off as fast as I could go. Skidding to a stop next to my idiotic brothers, I shouted, "Get in and buckle up!"
They stared at me in shock but jumped into the vehicle.
I saw the thugs hop into their green dune buggy and start it up. Before I could even blink, they were halfway across the beach. Then, suddenly, they stopped and turned around. The buggy growled almost.
My eyes lit up with happiness. "They wanna play chicken!" Okay, I admit, Joe didn't say that or jack the dune buggy, I did. But if it were any other situation, that would have been him.
I revved the engine a few times, sizing up our opponents. "No!" Frank yelled from the backseat. "No! They'll crush us!"
Joe and I shrugged simultaneously. "Who cares?" I asked.
Joe finished what I was saying. "It's fun!"
Frank shook his head sadly and said, "Why did it have to be twins? And why'd one of them have to be a smart aleck girl?"
I was smiled as I revved the engine once more before taking off. The other jeep charged at us also.
Fifty feet... Forty feet... Thirty feet...
"Jemma! Turn!" Frank was shouting.
"Not yet!" I called back.
Twenty feet... Fifteen feet... Ten feet...
Nine feet...Six feet...five feet... Two feet...
I turned the wheel as hard as I could when we were only a foot apart. The bumpers hit each other and sparks flew into the air. We careened off of the other dune buggy and we started spinning.
I hit my head on the steering wheel, since the seatbelt just decided not to lock, but I didn't feel and blood.
When we finally stopped, I turned, carefully, to see the other buggy, upside down on a mound of sand.
Frank was moaning from the backseat. "I'll tell ATAC to bring the cops and an ambulance." He pulled out his phone and dialed the number for ATAC.
Maybe I should explain.
Frank, Joe, and I are undercover agents for ATAC – American Teens Against Crime. Our latest mission involved a quartet of beach-bum thieves who were stealing dirt bikes and dune buggies from the Off-Road Vehicle Park on the Jersey Shore. It was a pretty cool assignment. You could rent all sorts of vehicles by the hour and spend the day racing through the park's maze of trails, jumps, and sand dunes. The first day we were here, Frank, Joe, and I spotted the culprits – a shady looking group of long haired dudes with bandanas who always seemed to be lurking in the background.
Joe and I told Frank to lie low for a few days. But my stupid, older brother couldn't resist asking suspicious questions: "How often do you guys come here?" "What are the best trails?" "Which dirt bikes are the fastest?"
A few hours after that, the bandana dudes jumped us, tied us up, and dumped us along one of the bike trails in the woods.
"Come on," I told them, opening my door. 'Let's go find our bikes and get home. Dad can check out my hand when we get there." Oh yeah, I forgot to mention one more thing. Our dad was the founder of ATAC.
We walked along the trail for a while before coming to a three-way split in the path.
"The bikes are this way!" Frank was telling us.
"No, they're that way!" my twin argued vehemently.
I shook my heads at them and pointed until they turned to stare at me. "Our bikes are right there." I pointed behind a bush, where I could see the handle of one of our bike sticking out.
"Don't say it," they grumbled."
"Told ya so."
They hate it when I'm right.