Cross-examination

  “So you still refuse to tell me where you got this,” Mr. Sheldrake, the assistant principal, said, looking up from the exam booklet on his desk.

  “It’s like I said, sir,” Tony insisted. “I found it in my backpack. I don’t know how it got there.”

  “And you expect me to believe that?” Sheldrake retorted.

  “Mr. Sheldrake,” Joe said, “Tony and I didn’t—”

  Sheldrake cut him off. “Until we have decided how to handle this situation, you both are suspended. Is that clear?”

  “But, sir—” Tony started to speak.

  Sheldrake raised his voice. “This is stolen property, and it was found in your possession. Just be glad I’m not reporting the incident to the police!”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Aladdin Paperbacks edition January 2002

  Copyright © 2002 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ALADDIN PAPERBACKS

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster

  Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  The text of this book was set in New Caledonia.

  THE HARDY BOYS and THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2001096914

  ISBN 0-7434-3738-1

  ISBN 13: 978-0-7434-3961-9 (ebook)

  Contents

  * * *

  Chapter 1: An Icy Spill

  Chapter 2: Suspended Education

  Chapter 3: Scores for Sale

  Chapter 4: Questions Without Answers

  Chapter 5: Body Check

  Chapter 6: None of the Above

  Chapter 7: A Leap in Time

  Chapter 8: Slip-sliding Away

  Chapter 9: On Ice

  Chapter 10: Face-off

  Chapter 11: Sealed for Your Safety

  Chapter 12: In the Slot

  Chapter 13: Freezing the Puck

  Chapter 14: Slap Shot!

  Chapter 15: To the Penalty Box

  1 An Icy Spill

  * * *

  Joe Hardy finished tightening the laces on his left ice skate and glanced up. It was a perfect day for a skating party. The sunlight reflecting off the ice was so bright that he had to squint. Across the pond, each naked tree branch stood out black against the cloudless sky.

  “Come on, move it!” Joe’s older brother, Frank, called. He glided past with his girlfriend, Callie Shaw. Joe noticed Frank was wearing the blue- and red-striped scarf Callie had knit for him. The ends fluttered behind him in the chilly breeze.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Joe called back. “I’ll catch up. And pass you guys too!”

  When Callie had phoned the Hardys earlier about getting together at the pond in Bayport’s Memorial Park, the brothers jumped at the idea. So had their other friends whom Callie called.

  When they got to the park, they found out they weren’t the only ones to think of a skating party. The ice was already crowded. Even before he got his skates on, Joe waved to a dozen or more kids he knew from Bayport High School, where he was a junior and Frank a senior.

  Humming to himself, Joe bent down to tie the laces on his right skate. Just as he finished, somebody snatched the fleece hat off his head.

  “Hey!” Joe exclaimed, and jumped to his feet.

  Iola Morton stood a few feet away, a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips. Joe’s hat dangled from her outstretched hand. Joe made a grab for it, but Iola skated backward, just far enough to be out of reach.

  “Grrr! Just wait!” Joe growled, pretending to be angry.

  Iola laughed. She spun around and sped across the ice. Joe took off after her. He was starting to catch up when a skater in a brightly colored parka crossed directly in front of him, missing him by inches.

  Joe reacted instantly. He bent his knees and jumped a quarter turn to the left. The blades of his skates caught and scraped sideways across the ice, throwing up a spray of glittering ice chips.

  Joe came to a stop and straightened up. He turned to yell at whoever had almost slammed into him. Too late. The guy was already lost in the crowd.

  “Close call,” Tony Prito said. He clapped Joe on the shoulder.

  Tony was one of Frank and Joe’s friends. Wiry and agile, he played second base on the Bayport High School baseball team.

  “Too bad you didn’t accidentally stick out your foot and trip him,” Tony added, shaking his head. “Though he’s pretty used to that kind of thing.”

  “Why? Do you know him?” Joe asked. “Who is he?”

  “Don’t ask me. You’re the detective,” Tony replied with a grin.

  Joe grinned back. He didn’t mind being teased. He and his brother, Frank, had a growing reputation for solving mysteries, which they came by naturally. Their dad was Fenton Hardy, a famous private detective. When they were younger, he had sometimes asked them for help on tough cases. Soon Frank and Joe were investigating crimes on their own.

  “I’m off duty today,” Joe said. “Come on, give. Who is that dude?”

  “Okay, okay. His name’s Carl Shute,” Tony replied. “We had history together last year, but we didn’t exactly hit it off. He’s a starter on the hockey team.”

  “Oh?” Joe said. “Any good?”

  Tony hesitated. “Well . . . if you ask me, his playing stinks. But he’s got a way with his elbows and stick.”

  “I hear you,” Joe said, and wrinkled his nose. He liked watching hockey, but if a brawl broke out, it turned him off. When he wanted to see a fight, he went to a martial arts tournament.

  Iola skated over to join them. She slid Joe’s hat back on his head, then tucked an arm through his. “Well?” she said. “Are we skating or what?”

  Joe grinned down at her. “What,” he replied. He took her by the waist and lifted her off her feet.

  “That’s enough of the he-man stuff,” Iola said. She grabbed the edge of his fleece hat and pulled it down over his eyes. “How do you like it in the dark, big guy?”

  “I give up!” Joe said. He set her down gently, then pushed up his hat. “Let’s do some skating.”

  Just then Frank and Callie skated up with two other friends, Biff Hooper and Chet Morton. Chet was Iola’s older brother. Joe, Iola, and Tony joined them in circling the pond a couple of times. Then they stopped to watch some kids who were ice dancing to the sound of a boom box.

  “Out of my way!” someone yelled. Two guys pushed through the spectators and raced across the dance area. They barely missed one of the dancers. Angry shouts followed them as they took off.

  Joe looked over and caught Tony’s eye. “Same guy, right?” he called.

  “Right,” Tony answered. “The other dude’s named Brad Austin. He’s on the hockey team too.”

  “What a couple of turkeys!” Frank said in disgust. “Do they think they own the pond?”

  “No, just the ice,” Callie said. “Forget them. Let’s do something fun. How about crack-the-whip?”

  A few other people joined them. Joe took a turn at anchor and another at the far end of the whip. He was amazed at how fast he went when the whip cracked. He crouched down and cannoned across the ice, carefully avoiding other skaters. He came to a stop a few yards from the two hockey players.

  “Hey, hot dog,” the one named Carl said with a scowl. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”

  Joe didn’t want to spoil the afternoon with a fight. Instead, he gave Carl a steady look and said, “Good advice. For everyone.” He turned and skated back to his friends.

  “Hey, everybody, look!” Iola called. She pulled a Frisbee out of Chet’s backpack. “Anybody remember how to play Monkey in the Middle?”

  Joe soon realized that catching a Frisbee on skates was tricky. Everyone took at least one spill. When it was Chet’s turn in the middle of the ring, Callie made a toss that seemed to hover a foot above his head. Chet raised both arms and jumped for the Frisbee. He caught it, but when he came down, his skates slithered in different directions, sending him flat on the ice.

  Everyone rushed to help him. “Chet!” Callie exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

  Chet sat up. “Of course I am,” he said in a dignified voice. “Don’t you realize how privileged you are? You’ve just seen the world’s first successful triple klutz!”

  All of them cracked up except Biff, who looked puzzled. Iola explained that there was a skating jump called a triple lutz. Biff let out a loud guffaw just as the others stopped laughing.

  Next it was Tony’s turn in the middle. Frank tossed the Frisbee across the ring to Callie. A gust of wind carried it past her, and she had to skate after it. Just as she bent down to pick it up, Carl zoomed past and nudged her. Callie recoiled and lost her balance.

  While Frank skated over to help her up, Joe raced after the careless hockey player. “Hey, man!” he shouted. “How about you watch where you’re going!”

  Carl spun around, fists clenched. “You talking to me?” he demanded.

  “You better believe I am,” Joe replied. He stopped an arm’s length from Carl. “You just k
nocked down my friend. Don’t you think you ought to tell her you’re sorry?”

  Carl eyed Joe’s six-foot muscular build. He didn’t seem pleased by what he saw. “I didn’t notice her,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I barely bumped her.”

  Carl’s friend, Brad, skated over. “Hey, we don’t want any trouble,” he said. “Right, Carl? A fun afternoon is all.”

  “Yeah, right,” Carl muttered. “Tell the chick I’m sorry.”

  Joe thought of a few good replies to this. Before he could get any of them out, Carl spun around and skated off. Brad gave Joe a shrug, then followed his bud.

  “Hey, why don’t you all come over to my house for cocoa and cookies?” Callie said a little later.

  “All right!” Chet exclaimed. “Nothing like exercise to work up an appetite.”

  “Not that you need much help with that,” Iola said jokingly. The others laughed. Chet had never met a snack he didn’t like.

  • • •

  At Callie’s they sat in a semicircle in front of the living room fireplace. Callie tossed a pinecone on the fire, which turned the flames blue, green, and yellow.

  Joe told about his conversation with Carl. “Can you believe that guy?” he said at the end. “What a jerk!”

  “Forget him,” Chet told him. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about. Personally I’m worried about the SAB.”

  The SAB was the State Achievement Battery, a standardized test of language and math. According to a new state law, all high school students had to take it. Their scores would appear on their permanent school records.

  “Did you have to mention that?” Iola complained. “On a weekend?”

  “Chet’s right,” Tony said. “That test’s something to worry about. If you don’t do well, it could spoil your chances of going to a good college.”

  “It could be bad for the school, too,” Callie said. “Unless enough kids score at grade level or above, we could lose all kinds of state aid. We could even be knocked out of statewide sports competitions.”

  “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Biff asked. “That would be so unfair. Bayport’s got state-ranked teams in half a dozen different sports.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it,” Frank said. “We rank pretty high academically. Just look at the colleges last year’s seniors got into.”

  “I’m not worried about how Bayport High will do,” Tony said. “I’m worried about how Tony Prito will do. I fall apart on these fill-in-the-bubble tests.”

  Callie gave him a sympathetic look. “I know about that,” she said. “Tests are one big pain. But we’ve still got next week to practice.”

  “I heard of a way to raise your score a lot,” Iola said. “But it costs big bucks.”

  “You mean, prep courses?” Biff asked. “Sure. But you have to put in months on them. A few days every week after school and weekends, too. That’d be great if we’d thought of it in time. But now we’ve only got a few days left.”

  Iola shook her head. “I’m not talking about prep courses. The other day I overheard two girls talking in the third-floor girl’s room. They didn’t know I was there. One of them said she knew where to buy a copy of the test. Five hundred dollars, she said.”

  Biff whistled in amazement. Chet said, “How about five dollars? If I smash my piggy bank, I think I could swing that much.”

  “Where? How?” Frank asked, his detective instincts aroused. “That’s illegal. Would you know the girls again?”

  “No, sorry,” Iola told him. “Someone else came in then, and the girls shut up and left. I didn’t even get a look at them.”

  • • •

  On Monday Joe’s fourth-period American history class was supposed to watch a videotape about westward expansion. But when Ms. Holder started the tape, the title that appeared on the monitor was How We See: The Amazing Story of Vision.

  Ms. Holder stopped the tape, ejected it, and turned to Joe. “Um, Joe?” she said. “Would you mind taking this down to the media center and bringing back the correct cassette?”

  “Sure,” Joe said, glad to get up and move.

  The media center was on the ground floor, in the same wing as the athletic complex. Joe exchanged the tape for the right one and started back. The hallway was empty, and as he passed the gym, Tony came out.

  “Hey,” Joe said, “what’s up?”

  “Had to see Coach, and then he let me shoot some hoops,” Tony replied as he joined Joe walking down the hall. “Hey, remember I was telling you about this cool new Italian motorcycle? I found a magazine article about it. Great photos. Want to see?”

  “You bet,” Joe told him. “But just a glance. I have to get back to class.”

  Tony stopped and opened his backpack and rummaged inside. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked. He pulled out a printed booklet sealed in shrink-wrapped plastic. A small piece of paper was stuck to the front by static electricity. Tony brushed the paper back into his bag and added, “Where’d this come from?”

  Joe looked. The cover of the booklet read State Achievement Battery—Part I.

  “Uh-oh,” Joe said. “I don’t think you’re supposed to have that.”

  “I don’t either,” Tony replied. “But how—”

  “May I see your passes?” a voice asked. “Why aren’t you two in class?”

  A teacher stood staring at them suspiciously. Joe had seen her around but did not know her name. He was about to explain about exchanging the cassettes for Ms. Holder when the teacher’s eye fell on the booklet in Tony’s hand. She caught her breath.

  “What’s that?” she demanded. She grabbed it and looked it over front and back.

  “You’d better come with me to the principal’s office,” she added grimly. “You boys are in big trouble!”

  2 Suspended Education

  * * *

  “Do you have any idea what a serious matter this is?” Mr. Sheldrake asked, looking up from the exam booklet on his desk. “If you don’t, you’re going to find out very fast.”

  Mr. Sheldrake was the assistant principal, and he had been given the nickname Old Beady Eyes.

  “So you still refuse to tell me where you got this,” Sheldrake continued.

  “It’s like I said, sir,” Tony replied. “I found it in my backpack. I don’t know how it got there.”

  “And you expect me to believe that?” Sheldrake retorted. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t born yesterday. The moment Mr. Chambers gets back from his meeting, I’m going to tell him this whole story. I assure you, he won’t take it lightly.”

  Mr. Chambers was the principal. The word around school was that he kept his nice guy rep by letting Sheldrake handle all the dirty work.

  “Mr. Sheldrake,” Joe said, “Tony and I didn’t—”

  Sheldrake cut him off. “Until we have decided how to handle this, you both are suspended. You will leave the school property at once, and you will not communicate with any other students at Bayport High School. Is that clear?”

  “But, sir—” Tony started to speak.

  Sheldrake raised his voice. “This is stolen property, and it was found in your possession. Just be glad I’m not reporting the incident to the police!”

  “Sir,” Joe said, “you don’t mean I can’t talk to my brother, do you?”

  The school official hesitated, then said, “No, that wouldn’t be reasonable. But remember, under no circumstances are you to say a single word to him about the contents of this exam. Not one word! Is that clear?”

  “I didn’t even look at the booklet,” Joe said. “And neither did Tony. You can see for yourself. It’s in a sealed package.”

  “These things can be opened and resealed,” Sheldrake said ominously. “That’s it. We’ll be in touch with you and your parents. One of the security people will see you off the premises.”

  “What about our schoolwork?” Tony asked. “We don’t want to fall behind.”

  “You will come to this office every day after school to turn in your assignments and receive the next day’s work,” Sheldrake said.

  The assistant principal picked up the phone and murmured something into it. A few moments later one of the school guards tapped on the door and came in. “Ah, Mr. Robinson,” Sheldrake said. “You will escort these two young men off the premises. Be sure they don’t speak to any other students.”