I couldn't help gasping as I broke the surface of the water. And shivering. Lots of shivering.

Hey, you try plunging into ice cold water in the middle of December while running away from a maniac who wanted to kill you and looking for your brother.

Speaking of which... "Frank!" I called gazing around Barment Bay. "Frank!" I thought about what had happened before Frank had disappeared under the surface of the water. They were running from Jack Spice, the person responsible for the rash of robberies around Bayport. Chet was supposed to throw a net on the man, like in Scooby Doo.

Things had not gone exactly as planned, and Frank had gotten a great wallop over the head by a tree branch.

And then he fell into the bay.

Which is why I was here now, spitting my own blond hair out of my mouth and looking around for Frank. But what Frank had gotten a concussion? He wouldn't be able to surface.

"I am going to kill you, Frank." I swore before diving under the surface of the ice-cold water.

Seriously, there is nothing that wakes you up better then diving into a lake in the winter. You should try it one time. If you want pneumonia.

I managed to open my eyes, ignoring the horrible stinging. I looked towards the bottom of the lake. And there was Frank. Wrapped around his leg was a long piece of seaweed. I dove down after him, pulling out my pocket knife on the way.

Frank was pulling urgently at his leg. Of course, urgently for a guy who had been underwater for a minute and a half wasn't exactly the most urgent urgent.

Ouch! Brain pain.

Okay, brother very close to suffocating now. Focus, Joe.

I hacked at the last bit of the seaweed and unhooked the slimy plant from Frank's leg. I pulled under Frank's arms and hauled him slowly. Really slowly. To the surface.

I broke the surface of the water. Again. This time, hauling Frank up with me. I swam slowly to the shore, vaguely happy that police sirens were wailing from the other side of the bay. That meant Chet had managed to alert the authorities and (hopefully) catch Spice.

But as I carried Frank over the ground, I had another priority. Three guesses what?

Yeah, that'd be saving my brother. He was coughing. Okay, coughing meant he was alive, but he was coughing up blood. Not good.

"Frank," I knelt beside him, hoping that maybe I'd be able to help. He was gasping, holding his throat. I had an idea.

"Sorry, Frank." I muttered, then whacked him in the back. Hard. That stopped the coughing, at least.

Frank smiled at me, "Thanks, little brother."

I wish he wasn't so beat up, that way I could hit him. I hated it when he called me little brother. "You okay?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "I guess. But man, am I cold." He rubbed his arms, trying to generate some heat. It wasn't exactly working.

"So, was Spice caught?" he asked. I shrugged. How was I supposed to know?