Facts: Frank and Joe are the same ages as in the books. Iola is dead. Frank is going out with Callie. Joe's with Vanessa but she's in Germany (I don't like Vanessa) There will be one or two OCs, but most of the characters will be from the books. Oh...I don't own the Hardy's. Sorry.
"In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world, or just jump off it. It nineteen minutes, you can get revenge" Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
"Hurry up, Joe!"
Frank called up the stairs to his brother. He glanced at his watch, then at the door. They were going to be late…
Finally, Joe came bounding down the stairs. He ducked under Frank's half-kidding punch and raced out the door, calling behind him, "Come on, Frank, we're going to be late!"
The older Hardy sighed and grabbed the van's keys off the counter where he'd left them. He made sure to lock the door behind him as he left the house. Both of the Hardy's parents were away. Fenton was somewhere on the west coast, doing something so secretive that he hadn't even told his sons about it. Their mother was at a week-long drive to support breast cancer.
Joe was sitting hopefully in the drivers seat. Frank pushed him away, climbing into the car himself. "We're going to be late, Frank…" Joe warned.
This time, Frank really did hit him. He started the van up hurriedly, some real anger floating through him towards Joe. He had to give a speech first period (Hitler: completely deranged maniac or amazing military leader?) and if he was late, he wouldn't be let into the classroom. Ms. Gondasy was great like that.
Frank pulled into the student parking lot four minutes before the bell. Joe sped out of the car, away from his brother's wrath. Frank also hurried out of the van, hoping that he might just be on time.
He was about three-quarters of the way to the school when he spotted a boy who seemed to be having trouble getting his bag out of the car. The boy looked vaguely familiar – Bayport High wasn't that big. Frank stopped, his nice-guy instincts getting in the way. He sighed, walking towards the boy. Maybe if he hurried up, they could both be on time.
"Need some help with that?"
The boy jumped and cowered as if narrowly missed by a bullet. When he saw Frank, his words came out in a stutter, his hand moving up to swipe his long bangs away from his thin, pale face. "N-no. I don't need any help. Th-thanks, though."
Frank shrugged, heading towards the school at a half-run. He slipped into his first period class just as the bell rang.
Sighing with relief, Frank took out the notes to his well-rehearsed speech. Joe was so going to die if he ever made Frank late again.
Looking over his notes again, Frank barely listened to the other person who was giving their speech today. This had to be perfect…
Frank was called up to the front of the room at 8:43. He began his speech a few seconds after that. At 8:46, they heard the first gunshot.
Joe had study hall first period. During the first half, he was still laughing about how uptight Frank had been that morning. It was always fun to get on his brother's nerves. He had taken out his Trig homework but wasn't really paying attention to it.
He wished Vanessa was in school, but she had left for Germany on an exchange program a little over a week ago. So he spent his time looking around at the people in his study hall.
There weren't many. Two girls dressed entirely in black occupied the back corner. John and Carrie, known as the "perfect couple" sat in the front, their hands laced as they talked quietly. A group of about four AP kids were arguing about chemistry. One kid sat near the window, his backpack huge. He was fidgeting around a lot and Joe saw him check the time three times in the ten seconds he was staring at him.
To pass the time, Joe took out the book he was supposed to be reading for English. Ivanhoe. It wasn't really that bad, if you could get past all the old English. He had just managed to get absorbed in it when the kid by the window stood up.
Joe blinked at him, then turned to Mr. Rushe. He was a young teacher, maybe twenty-five, and was pretty lax about talking and studying together. But you couldn't stand up. Stupid rule, but enforced.
"Sit down, Roffman." Mr. Rushe barely looked up from his pad. He was the coach for the swim team, and had been going over the numbers all period.
But the kid –Roffman, Joe guessed, didn't sit down. He took a gun out of his back pocket and fired straight at Joe.
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