Free Trouble at the Arcade by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

means!”
    â€œNo. What?”
    â€œDuh!” said Joe. “It means we’ll finally get our own bedrooms!”
    Frank cast a dubious look at the garage. “I doubt it,” he said. “The spare room is practically a whole separate apartment from the rest of the house. Mom and Dad aren’t going to let either of us live out there.”
    â€œIf you’re so sure, I guess that means you don’t mind if I’m the one who moves out there,” Joe said. “Cool. You can keep our tiny old room. You can even have both bunk beds all to yourself. I’ll just fill up all the space in my brand-new room with my brand-new VidPoint 3000.”
    â€œDream on,” Frank said. “I’ve been practicing all week for that contest. You’ll be sorry you didn’t want to share when
I
win that game system.”
    They were almost at the back door by now. Joe stopped and grinned at his brother. “If you’re so sure you can beat me, why don’t we make a bet?” he said. “Whichever one of us wins that contestgets to move into the spare room—with the 3000 all to himself.”
    Frank could tell that Joe was sure he was going to win. That made him kind of mad.
    â€œYou’re on,” he said. “It’s a bet!”

2
Fun World
    I’ll probably get the highest score ever today,” Joe bragged. He leaned forward as far as his seat belt would let him, trying to see out the front window of his father’s car. He was eager to catch his first glimpse of Fun World. It was the day of the video game tournament, and he couldn’t wait!
    Frank was sitting beside him. “Don’t count on it,” he said. “I practiced all week. I’ll probably break the world record.”
    â€œOnly until I take my turn and beat your sorry score!” Joe shot back.
    â€œAll right, boys, that’s enough.” Fenton Hardy looked at them in the rearview mirror. “It’s fine to want to do your best and win. But you don’t have to insult each other.”
    â€œSorry, Dad,” said Frank.
    Joe shrugged. “He started it.”
    Their father sighed. He’d just stopped at a red light, so he turned around to look at them this time. “What’s gotten into you two?”
    Joe shot Frank a warning look. Their parents didn’t know about the boys’ bet for the spare room. And Joe wanted to keep it that way. He was afraid Frank might spill his guts, though. He always wanted to tell adults everything.
    But this time he kept quiet, and so did Joe. The light turned green, and Mr. Hardy drove on.
    â€œAnyway, don’t forget that you’re brothers,” hesaid. “You’re supposed to be a team. You’ll always have a better chance if you work together instead of against each other.”
    â€œI guess,” Frank said. He didn’t sound too sure.
    â€œIt’s just like my work with the police department,” Mr. Hardy went on. “I have my strengths and skills, and so do they. That’s why we all work as a team to stop criminals.”
    Mr. Hardy was a private investigator. He’d solved all kinds of crimes in Bayport and beyond, and he worked with the police a lot. Still, Joe didn’t see what that had to do with him and Frank.
    By now they were pulling into the Fun World parking lot. Mr. Hardy drove past the mini-golf course and batting cages and stopped in front of the entrance to the arcade.
    â€œHere we are,” he said. “Call when you need a ride home. Have fun, guys—and remember, you’re a team!”
    â€œSure, Dad,” Frank said. “Thanks for the ride.”
    The arcade entrance was a big glass door with a blinking sign over it. A skinny teenage boy was sitting by the table just inside. There was a rickety-looking wooden box beside him with cash in it, and also a huge roll of tickets. A door off to one side opened into a hallway that led to the main part