Someone tapped on Vanessa's shoulder. She turned around and squealed. "Callie, you're back!"

"Hi, guys." Callie Shaw stood just a few feet away from where the four of them were standing, looking tanned and radiant, with her blond hair styled into a new hairdo. Frank laughed in surprise and immediately went to her to give her a big hug and a welcome kiss, patting Callie's new sleek bob. "Nice hair."

"When did you get back? Thought you're gonna be there until next week," Joe said. "Not that we're not happy to see you."

"Yeah, well, I got bored of New York so, here I am!" Callie shrugged. "What's up?" Then she noticed April standing slightly behind Joe. She thought she saw a scowl on the new girl's face.

Vanessa noticed Callie giving April the look-over and stepped in. "Callie, this is April Callaghan. She just moved here from Massapequa. April, this is Callie Shaw." April's scowling face miraculously smoothed itself and she shook Callie's hand, giving her a friendly smile. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"So, you guys, what are you up to now? Frank told me in his email that you guys are gonna be in a play?" Callie suddenly felt as if she'd just announced that there was going to be no Christmas that year when palpable tension and uncomfortable silence suddenly filled the air. She looked around at four solemn and uneasy faces, wondering what she had said wrong. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Everything's going fine," Joe said hurriedly and the hard look in his eyes told Callie that he didn't want to talk anymore about it. The subject had been quite a sensitive subject for them and he still avoided talking about it whenever he was around the guys. He felt it was better that way, rather than having to be accused of lying and he was sure that they all had reached a consensus on that. "The play's on Friday night. You coming?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Callie laughed. "Come on, let's go to class." Together, the two pairs walked down the hall, Vanessa with Joe, and Callie with Frank as they chattered on, completely forgetting that a certain someone was left on and shooting daggers into their backs.

"Hey," Frank said, finding Joe lying on the sofa at the living room later that afternoon. He'd just got back from Callie's to hear all about Callie's trip. Joe had wanted to come but at the last minute he opted to stay home, complaining of a headache. "Vanessa was asking where you were. Callie too. Told them you were tired."

Joe smiled wanly. "What did she get me?"

"Here," Frank said, tossing Joe a package. Upon opening it, Joe found that Callie had bought him a beautifully carved pewter lighter with his initials on it. "Hey, cool."

"You okay?" Frank asked, noticing that Joe looked slightly pale and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Joe replied. "Just nerves, I guess."

Frank smiled nervously. "Yeah, well, you'll sleep them off tonight. Tell you what. Why don't we have an early dinner out and then we come back and you can hit the sacks?"

"I can't," Joe muttered. "I have to go to Mr Weinhardt's tonight." Frank's heart leaped. Here we go again.

"Why don't I drive you over?" Frank offered.

"No, he's picking me up."

"Look, Joe, I think I'd like to go with you tonight coz I have never seen you rehearse and I'd love to get a sneak preview," Frank said casually.

"No." Joe said flatly, steadily gazing at his brother, daring him to say anything else. Shut up, Frank, I mean it, his look said.

"Okay." But Frank had a plan.

"It says 139 Jamaica St. right?" Frank asked, frowning, as he stopped the van in front of the last house in the row.

"That's what it says here," Biff said. "Why? What's the matter?"

Frank checked the piece of paper again where he had scrawled down the address. They had been in such a hurry at that time and now he could barely read his own handwriting, it was so bad. He tossed the note with the illegible scrawls aside, sighing in frustration. But he still remembered what he saw and it wasn't what he was seeing now.

"This is the last house on Jamaica." Biff leaned over Frank to see.

"75?" Biff had to squint to make out the numbers in the dark but there was no doubt about it.

"139 doesn't exist," Frank said. This was not looking good. After Joe had left for the night, he waited a few minutes before taking the van, intending to follow Joe. He wasn't that anxious to tail him because he had the address he took from the personnel files. He doubted Weinhardt would be in the phone book since he was a newcomer and all. But now he was worried all over again.

Oh, Joe, where the hell are you? Frank wondered wishing he had tailed his brother after all.

"Joe, I think we need to talk," Frank said, dropping into the seat opposite his brother at lunch. Joe looked up from his sandwich and shrugged. "Sure. Something wrong?"

Frank told him everything about what he had found out the night before, explaining gently that he had no intention whatsoever of accusing him of anything or doubting Joe's ability to take care of himself. "I just want to know where you've been, that's all, Joe. I'm worried about you."

Unfortunately Joe didn't take it all that well. "Frank, I thought you knew me. You once told me you trusted me with your life but suddenly you're telling me that I've been lying to you about where I've been and what I've been doing. Fine, I don't know why coz I sure as hell know that I've not been lying, but fine. But now, you're tailing me? Snooping around behind my back? And knowing you, and knowing that my English teacher is new in town, you certainly didn't get the address from the phone book, did you?"

"Joe, it's not what you think-"

"I'm not finished yet. I am telling you for the last time, Frank. I am sick of you or anybody else meddling with my affairs, controlling what I do, who I go out with...I'm not a kid, Frank or are you too blind to see that?"

"That's not it, Joe-"

"Then what is it, Frank? My God what is wrong with you people?"

For God's sake Joe just tell me where you were last night!" Frank shouted, banging a fist on the table, inviting curious stares from other tables nearby.

"What's the use? You won't believe me anyway," Joe said scornfully, dropping his fork with a clank as he rose from the table. Frank closed his eyes, sighing in frustration as Joe stalked away.

"I can't believe we're doing this again," Biff whispered, his eyes darting nervously between the door and Frank. He was sure they were going to get caught this time.

"I don't care if the President himself catches me," Frank muttered under his breath, rummaging through papers, books, files, folders, through everything on Mr Weinhardt's table. Nothing looked out of order, it was just like any other desk. He came to the last drawer and found it locked. Aha, jackpot, he thought.

"Frank..." Biff said uneasily. The teacher's lounge, though deserted at the time was bound to be full in a matter of minutes. They were in luck because all teachers were out for lunch this time.

Frank ignored his friend and with a tiny pin he procured from his pocket, jimmied the lock to the last drawer. In just a few seconds, he pulled it open. Inside he found a book. The Phantom of The Opera, by Gaston Leroux. Latest edition, printed just a few months ago. Frank was wondering why a drama teacher would go and buy a brand-new paperback when Biff suddenly tapped his shoulder. Wordlessly, Biff pointed to the open drawer. Tucked nicely inside was a brand new Smith and Wesson gun.

Outside, he watched the two boys put everything back to order, trying to erase any evidence that they had indeed tampered with the desk. The corners of his lips curled up slowly in a sinister smile.

He casually walked away and pretended not to notice as they slipped out through the door behind him. Turning around the corner, he pushed open the restroom door and after locking himself in one of the cubicles, he punched in the numbers he knew by heart on his cell phone.

"Billy, we've got trouble."

"Hey." Vanessa hesitated a little, but then she sat down slowly on the bench. She lay a hand tentatively on Joe's shoulder. Joe refused to look at her. Vanessa waited patiently, still not taking her hand off Joe. Moments later, Joe turned and looked at her, his eyes filled with hurt.

"Why don't you guys believe me?" he asked finally.

"Because we are telling you the truth and the truth doesn't tally with what you've been telling us," Vanessa answered truthfully. If it had been anyone else rather than Vanessa, Joe would have hit her but she knew Joe would never hurt her. And Joe knew she wouldn't hurt him too.

"Then what are you suggesting, Van? That I've gone crazy? Did I just imagine it all up?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I don't know, Joe. But no matter what, I want to help you."

"How? I don't even know what's wrong with me," Joe said in despair.

"What do you remember the first night you went to Mr Weinhardt's house?" she asked gently.

Joe frowned as he tried to remember. The memory came to him a few moments later, as clear as crystal. "He asked me in, gave me a soda and then...we started acting out the scene when Raoul was sitting in his box the first time he saw Christine sing. Then he commented on my acting and what we did then was..." he paused, "uh, I can't remember..."

"It's okay, Joe," Vanessa said quickly. "Tell me about the night at the school hall. Was I there?"

"Yes, you were. I saw you sing in public for the first time and I thought, this beautiful angel who sings such beautiful music is mine," he said wistfully, smiling at the memory. Vanessa smiled too but she knew the memory wasn't real. Well, real or not, it touched her all the same. And it made her worry even more.

"I think someone's messing with your mind, Joe," she said gently. "I wasn't there. We all weren't there. You were alone that night."

"But how can that be?" Joe whispered helplessly. "I remember it clearly and it was REAL, Vanessa, as real as you sitting with me, now."

"I know, Joe, I know." She stroked Joe's blond hair lovingly, still keeping her smile but all the while her heart was breaking. Joe looked so lost, so...troubled. But at least he was starting to believe he was having a problem.

"But if you are saying that someone planted these memories, these images in my head..." Joe's voice trailed off.

"Who could it be?" Vanessa echoed Joe's unspoken question, although she had a strong feeling whom that person was and she knew Joe realized it too.

"And what could I have been doing with him all the time when we were alone?"

Frank and Joe were relaxing in front of the television until 6 o'clock, when they planned to meet Vanessa, Callie and April for dinner at Ayutthaya, the Thai restaurant. Frank and Joe had a long talk after school and Joe reluctantly promised to stay away from Mr Weinhardt at least until the end of the week after they had done the play. Through he tried as hard as he could, he still found it difficult to believe the things Frank said about the teacher. But now when Joe thought about it, he had to admit the details he remembered were sketchy. He honestly told Joe Frank that he couldn't remember where exactly he had taken him that night and whatever he did remember, he was afraid that it wasn't real.

"Hi, guys!" Callie waved as the two Hardys walked into the restaurant. Joe instantly liked it; it looked unique with bamboo decorating the walls, tables and chairs made of rattan, and hosts dressed in traditional Thai costumes. It looked quaint yet pleasant.

Joe saw April's eyes lit up when she saw Frank. But she didn't say anything, just giving a little wave of her own. Joe thought she looked a bit sad. He couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Unrequited love has got to be the most painful thing in the world, he thought as he leaned down to give Vanessa a kiss. If Vanessa loves me half as much as I love her, I'm the luckiest guy on earth.

"Thought you guys weren't coming," Callie said. She flicked her hand toward the menu. "We've even ordered for you coz we got tired of waiting."

"Sorry we're late. Joe here couldn't decide on what to wear," Frank said.

"Wait a minute," Joe protested. " We were late because you-" Joe couldn't finish his sentence as suddenly Frank lunged across the table and covered his mouth, hissing, "Don't you dare tell them."

"I don't think I want to know," Vanessa said dryly.

They talked for a while, but when the food arrived, all conversations died as enticing aroma assaulted their nostrils. "Hmm, that smells nice," Frank said, sniffing Joe's spicy green curry appreciatively. Joe noticed Frank staring longingly at his food. His brother's tom yam soup didn't look half bad either.

"Wanna trade?" he offered.

"My, you're in a generous mood today," Frank commented. Afraid Joe would change his mind, he pushed his soup over to Joe and quickly took the curry from his brother's outstretched hand. The girls had already dug in. Only April was watching the exchange with an unreadable expression on her face. Then a slow smile spread across her face. Guess the day wasn't going so bad after all, she thought.

"Just trying to be nice," Joe muttered. Then he noticed April staring at him intensely. "What is it, April? You wanna trade too?"

"Oh, no." April shook her head vehemently. "It's just nice to see you guys being so good to each other. Wish I had a brother."

"You the only one?" Frank asked.

"Yeah, my mother Annabelle died a few minutes after I was born. I was the first child," she said, casting her eyes down onto her plate. Suddenly she looked as if she was about to cry.

"I'm so sorry," Joe said sympathetically.

"It's okay," April said, smiling a little. "Now let's not ruin this simply delicious dinner with sad stories and tears, okay? Let's eat."

It was while they were in the van heading for home that the pain started. At first Joe felt a sharp cramp in the middle of his stomach, which went away. He didn't give it a second thought. But after a few minutes it returned, but this time it wasn't just a dull ache. A stomachache? What the hell?

As the minutes passed by, instead of dissipating the pain in his gut tightened and grew worse. Joe placed a hand on his suddenly tender belly. He gasped when he felt a searing hot pain in his belly, as if someone had placed a white-hot poker there.

Frank heard his sharp intake of breath and turned his head to look at him, immediately noticing how pale Joe was. "Joe? You okay?"

Joe shook his head, looking distracted. "I don't know, Frank. All of a sudden I feel-" He gasped again and squeezed his eyes shut as another spear of agony stabbed him, threading right through his navel and tunneling into his bowel. Joe cried out in pain as he doubled over.

"Joe!" Frank shouted, struggling between the steering wheel and his concern for his brother. "Joe, what's wrong?"

Joe clutched desperately at his stomach, fisting and tearing at his shirt, praying for relief, but his cries went unheard. Spasm after spasm attacked him mercilessly, his body locked in a rigid curl of pain. Frank was shouting, he could feel Frank touching him, but he was unable to respond.

"Joe?!" Frank's voice reached him like through a layer of really thick wool.

"Joe? Can you hear me? What's wrong?" Frank asked frantically.

"Frank...my stomach...it hurts," Joe gasped out, tears rolling slowly down his face, now red from pain and exertion.

"Joe-" Frank was on the verge of panic. He grew even more frantic when Joe began to convulse violently, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, showing only the whites. "Oh my God, Joe!"

"Joe, talk to me!" Frank begged. The only response he got was a dull thud as Joe slumped forward, his head hitting the dashboard.

Pain PG