Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was originally co-written with another person, who is not currently available to ask for permission to post it. Therefore it is being posted under one author name. Also, it was written in the late 1990s, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.

September Song

By EvergreenDreamweaver

Chapter 1

"…that will be all for today, ladies and gentlemen. We will be discussing Chapters 2 and 3 on Monday; please read them and be prepared." Professor Gillette removed his glasses and snapped his notebook closed, just as the buzzer sounded to announce the end of class.

Frank Hardy laid down his pen and flexed his fingers gratefully. He had been scribbling notes at a frantic pace for nearly 90 minutes, and his hand ached. Survey of the Criminal Justice System had sounded interesting when he'd read the course description, but he was beginning to suspect it was going to be a difficult class.

Frank sighed, pushed back his wavy dark hair, and began to gather his scattered sheets of notebook paper into a neat pile. He clipped them into his binder, and slid it into the backpack hanging on the back of his chair. He was glad this was his last class of the day and that he didn't have to hurry to get to another, although most of the criminal justice classes were held in this same building. Introduction to Criminal Investigation was on the third floor, Criminology just down the hall.

College is so different…he thought. Classes only two or three days a week, running clear across the campus to get to the library…so different from high school. He rose to his feet, stretching his long legs with relief. At 6'1", being scrunched into a lecture chair for an hour and a half was a strain. He shrugged his backpack over one shoulder and went into the hall, mingling with dozens of other students who were either rushing madly to get to another class, or strolling casually along, chatting and laughing. Spotting an unoccupied bench against the wall, Frank decided to sit down for a minute, reorganize his backpack, and wait for the crowd to clear.

What a difference a week makes! Ten days ago it was the same old gang, everyone together, just like it's been for so long. Now…. Frank frowned, brows drawing together over his brown eyes, thinking and remembering back.

For a long time, he and his younger brother Joe had been in school together. Even though they were in different grades, they had spent nearly all their out-of-class time together, often in company with their friends, Tony Prito, Biff Hooper, Phil Cohen, and Chet Morton. And for quite a while, there had been Callie Shaw and Vanessa Bender, as well. Now, abruptly, there had been a split, prompted by the inevitable graduation of Frank, Callie, Tony and Phil from Bayport High. Joe, Biff, Vanessa and Chet were still there, delighted to be seniors at last, but admittedly missing their friends.

Phil had gone to NYU, to major in computer science and technology. He tried to make it home on weekends, but spent Monday through Friday in New York, staying with an aunt and uncle. Tony was also attending Bayport Community College, but he was studying construction, intending on joining his father's construction company when he was through. He had had to juggle the hours that he worked at Mr. Pizza, to fit in a college schedule, and Frank rarely saw him on campus; their class hours didn't mesh, and weren't in the same buildings. And Callie – ah, yes, Callie.

Callie had applied to her father's alma mater, the University of Colorado, with no thought of actually going there. She had done it merely to please Mr. Shaw. To her amazement, the school had not only accepted her, but had offered her a large scholarship. Hesitant but unable to pass up the windfall, Callie had chosen U. of C., and had left for Colorado ten days ago, driving with her parents across the country with furniture and belongings stuffed into their Ford Expedition as tightly as they could be packed.

Frank had heard from her, of course. As soon as she was settled in her dorm room, with her computer hooked up, she had e-mailed him, and they had been exchanging messages every day. At first her letters had sounded doleful, with many references to past experiences they shared, and always ended with "I love you, I miss you SO much!" But the last couple had been full of the things she had been doing, the freshman activities she had attended, stories of the people she was meeting. And last night, her closing sentence was "Gotta run, or I'll be late for the party with Butler Hall. Jen and I are going over with Jonathan and Steve."

Frank had known she would make friends there, and they hadn't promised not to date other people while she was gone; it wouldn't have made sense. But I'm so lonely! he realized, as he returned with a start to his surroundings. Someone was standing directly in front of him, waving a hand across his face.

"Excuse me?" a soft voice said. "Hello? Earth to – whoever?"

"Sorry! I was thinking." Frank looked up…and froze, mesmerized.

Reddish-gold hair, cut short and tumbling in soft curls about her face. Blue eyes – not the sparkling sapphire that Joe's were, but a soft blue-green, shaded by the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen… A few freckles sprinkled across her nose, and a somewhat hesitant expression.

"I didn't mean to disturb you – but I think you dropped this?" She held out a gold pen, and Frank recognized it as his, part of the set he had received from Con Riley and his wife as a graduation gift.

"Oh, yeah, thanks. I guess I did." Frank took the pen and dropped it into a pocket of his backpack. "How did you know it was mine?"

"You were sitting a couple of seats in front of me in the Criminal Justice Survey class, and I saw it fall when you stood up. There was such a crush, getting out, that I couldn't catch up with you right away." She smiled, and Frank noticed a dimple dodge into sight in one cheek. "I'm Megan Wright, by the way." She held out her hand.

"Oh!" Reminded of his manners, Frank hastily stood, and reached to shake hands. She's so small! Can't be more than 5'2". "I'm Frank Hardy. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry I didn't see you in class – but you did say you were in back of me, right? I guess I should turn around more often. It was nice of you to pick up the pen." Nice going, Hardy, just how much can you babble? She'll think you're a moron. "You a freshman?"

"Yes, I am. You too?"

"Uh-huh. Did you go to school at Bayport High? I don't remember seeing you there."

"No, I didn't. I was at Lakeridge Academy in New York." Her voice went flat, and all the animation fled from her face; the dimple disappeared.

Frank was a little deflated by her sudden coolness. He picked up his backpack, swung it over his shoulder, and gestured toward the stairs. "Can I walk you somewhere? Are you going to another class?"

"No, I'm done for the day." Megan's temporary aloofness dissipated, and she smiled up at the tall boy beside her. "You can walk me to Parking Lot C, if you don't mind."

"I'm parked in 'B,' so I'm heading the same way." Frank assured her, and they moved toward the building exit.

They walked in relative silence for a while, occasionally commenting on something about the campus, or the class they shared; but it didn't feel uncomfortable or strained. It was a peaceful walk, and Frank felt some of his tension ease. It had been so long since he'd had any interaction with any girl but Callie, he had been somewhat uneasy. Megan was friendly and pleasant; she just wasn't very talkative. But the occasional glances she shot from under those devastating eyelashes told him that she was, at least, mildly interested.

"There's my car," she said when they reached Lot C, pointing to a dark blue Honda Accord. "Thanks so much for walking me here."

"Not a problem," Frank assured her. He hesitated a moment, then took the plunge. "Could I do it again, sometime? Or would you like to have a Coke together, or something?"

The blue eyes lighted like stars, and she smiled. "I'd like that very much. Very much." She unlocked the car door, slid into the driver's seat, and smiled up at him before closing the door. "See you Monday, then?"

Frank nodded, stepped back from the car, and lifted a hand in farewell as she started the motor. He watched her drive out of the parking lot, then abruptly shook himself, turned and headed for the van.

Frank and Joe had shared a vehicle for so long that the sudden change in schedules had been something of an adjustment. Now they had to alternate using the van and riding their motorcycles. Frank wasn't looking forward to winter weather on a cycle, and suspected getting another car would soon be a priority.

He unlocked the van, tossed his backpack into the middle seat, and slid behind the wheel. Driving towards the parking lot exit, he let his mind return to his recent encounter.

Megan…pretty name…pretty girl! Quiet, but seemed nice. Wonder if Joe would like her?…Probably, he likes anything that even occasionally wears a skirt!…Jen is Callie's roommate; I wonder who Jonathan and Steve are?…Is Megan in any of my other classes, and I just haven't noticed…?

He blinked, recalling his whereabouts. He'd been driving on autopilot, and found he was nearly home already. He swung the van onto Elm Street, and turned into the driveway of a large gray stone house. Joe's motorcycle stood in front of the garage, and Frank noted Vanessa's red Wrangler parked next to the curb. He turned off the engine, retrieved his backpack, and went into the house, where he found Joe, Vanessa, and Biff in the kitchen.

The room seemed full of long legs: Biff was sprawled in a kitchen chair, his 6'4" frame dominating the space. Vanessa was perched on the kitchen table, swinging her feet as she talked. Only the back half of Joe was visible; his head and shoulders were hidden in the refrigerator as he rummaged through its contents.

"Hi, Frank!" Vanessa exclaimed, as the elder Hardy entered. "How's college life?"

"Fine." Frank gave her a smile. He stepped cautiously over Biff's legs. "Hey, Biff!" They high-fived, and Frank slung his backpack beneath the kitchen table, then pulled out a chair and straddled it backwards. "How is it back in high school, little ones?"

"Oh, listen to the big college man!" Joe exclaimed, emerging from the depths of the refrigerator with several apples, which he distributed around. "Aren't we superior today!" His words were scoffing, but honest affection glowed in his blue eyes when he looked at his older brother. Joe was an inch shorter than Frank but built more broadly, which made him appear to be nearly equal in size to his lean brother. He had allowed his blonde hair to grow, over the summer, anticipating football season when any extra padding beneath his helmet was appreciated.

Vanessa crunched her apple. "You should have seen it today, Frank! During lunch break, Joe, Biff and Chet absolutely dominated the upstairs hall! They were all wearing their letter jackets, and they walked the whole length, side by side so they took up the whole hall. No, I take it back. They didn't walk, theystrutted! You should have seen all the little freshmen and sophomores stare!"

Joe turned crimson. "Vanessa…" he protested; but Biff was chuckling deep in his throat.

"You can't deny it, buddy." he rumbled. "We made a statement!"

Frank grinned. It sounded just like something those three would do. He wished he'd been there to see it…well, maybe not. Where he'd been was okay, too.

"What's new on the crime-and-justice scene?" Joe asked now, leaning against the table beside Vanessa and taking a huge bite of his own apple. "Learn anything you didn't already know?"

"Oh, yeah, it's amazing what we didn't know," Frank answered, "I took notes all day; my hand may never recover. And I have a ton of reading to do over the weekend." Frank tossed his apple core at the sink where the garbage disposal was. "Why aren't you two at football practice?" he asked Joe and Biff.

Biff stretched lazily and grinned. "Ah, how quickly they forget!" he intoned. "Frank, old boy, we have a game tonight. No practice, but we have to be back at the school in an hour. Remember what it was like?"

"Oh – yeah. Right. Game tonight," Frank mumbled, somewhat embarrassed.

"You're going to come, aren't you?" Joe asked him. He sounded a little hurt. "Don't you want to see us play?"

"Sure! Of course I'm going to come!" Frank assured him. "I want to see you try and cope without Tony at free safety and me quarterbacking! Southport'll slaughter you guys, since you don't have us!"

Biff aimed a mock kick in Frank's direction. "We're doing fine, thanks. Aaron Whitney does a nice job at quarterback, and Joe's getting used to being a wide receiver. And nobody pushes Chet around at center!"

Vanessa hopped off the table. "If I'm going to get home and do some homework before the game, I've got to go. Biff, do you want a ride home? Or are you just hanging here until time to go back to the school with Joe?"

"I'll go home." Biff stood up. "See you guys later."

Vanessa leaned close to Joe, who tousled her long, pale-blonde hair and pulled her into a tight hug, growling softly.

"Bye, beautiful. I'll see you after the game, okay? Meet you outside the gym entrance?"

She nodded, kissed him, and she and Biff departed. It suddenly seemed very quiet in the Hardy kitchen.

Frank pulled his backpack from under the table, and stood up. "I guess I'd better hit the books for a little while."

Joe surveyed him, blue eyes taking on a keen edge. "You sure everything's okay?" He cocked his head, frowning a little. "Missing Callie?" he added softly.

"Um – yeah." A little flustered, a vision of red-gold hair and blue eyes floating in his brain, Frank turned and headed for the stairs. "Yeah. Think I'll check my e-mail."

Upstairs in his room, Frank switched on his computer and accessed his e-mail. To his surprise, however, the "No Messages" signal showed. Nothing from Callie? That's odd. He quickly wrote her a note, telling her about the football game he was going to that night, and hit "send." Then he stretched out on his bed, grabbed a highlight pen, and opened his Criminal Justice textbook to Chapter 2.

Some time later he became aware of a tapping on his door. "Yeah?"

Joe poked his head in. "I'm leaving now. Is it okay if I take the van?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'll take my cycle. But then, do you and Vanessa end up with two cars?" Frank knitted his brows, trying to figure out the logistics of either too many people or too many cars.

"Why don't I call Vanessa, have her pick you up for the game, and then you can take the van afterwards, and I'll go with her?" Joe suggested. "There's a dance after, and I know you don't want to go to that."

"Okay. That works," Frank agreed, preparing to return to his reading. "If Vanessa doesn't mind, it's fine with me."

Joe reached for the phone on Frank's bedside table, and swiftly punched numbers. When he reached the Bender home, he quickly explained his plan to Vanessa, who readily agreed. Joe cut the conversation short, hung up, and slapped his brother's shoulder.

"There. All set. See you there."

"Okay. Hey, you be careful out on that field, huh?" Frank reminded him.

"Natch! Don't worry!" and Joe was gone, slamming the door. The house was quiet once more.