Free Bound for Danger by Franklin W. Dixon

through a line of masked team members. We are allowed to do anything we like to you—punch you, kick you. This is your punishment for underperforming. Or perhaps” —he turned his masked face toward Frank and me— “just being a nuisance.”
    Pete leaned forward. “How long do we do this?”
    The center figure laughed. “What an intriguing question. How long do you think you’ll do this?”
    Pete looked confused. He shrugged. “Uh . . . once?”
    The masked figure laughed again. “Adorable. You’ll do it until we tell you to stop. Until we feel you’ve learned your lesson. And just looking at the faces in front of me . . . I’d buckle your seat belts, boys. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”
    I glanced at Frank. Great. But punching and kicking, I could take. At least this wouldn’t involve burned flesh.
    The leader gestured to the other masked figures. Four came forward and began using pocket knives to untie Frank, Pete, Ty, and me from our chairs. Then they began to arrange themselves in two rows, six figures on each side. In between, they left just enough space for a person to pass through.
    â€œJayden,” said the lead figure, “take your place in the middle, please.”
    Jayden looked at us—the poor unfortunates left in the chairs—then quickly looked away. He walked over to the middle of the first line and took his place.
    â€œYou are absolutely not allowed to go easy on the losers,” the lead figure said. “If we see you beating them with anything less than your full power, you will be forced to Run the Gauntlet with them, and we will also post the video on your Facebook page.”
    Jayden shuddered. He looked straight ahead, carefully avoiding eye contact with both us and the masked figures. I couldn’t believe he was going along with this, but at the same time, I didn’tfeel like I could judge him. Maybe he’d been through more than one of these hazing sessions. Maybe he knew how bad they could get.
    â€œTy, you’re up first,” the lead figure said, taking his place at the end of the line.
    Ty stood slowly. He glanced back at us, then held his head high, loping toward the two lines.
    He paused just briefly at the entrance to the “gauntlet.”
    â€œBegin,” said the lead masked figure.
    Ty stepped into the middle of the masked figures. Immediately, they all fell on him, punching him, kicking him, beating him as if he’d stolen their girlfriends and then hit their mothers. I felt sick, watching and knowing I’d soon face the same.
    â€œWhy doesn’t he fight back?” Frank whispered.
    â€œYou’re not allowed,” Pete said quietly. “If you do, they beat you even harder next time.”
    â€œNext time?” I asked. “How long does this go on?”
    â€œLast time we got out around one a.m.,” Pete whispered.
    I felt even sicker.
    Finally Ty emerged on the other side of the “gauntlet” line. He was hunched over, holding his stomach, but he walked with what little dignity he had left back to his seat.
    The lead masked figure stepped out of the line again. “Just as a reminder,” he said, “any one of you can avoid this punishment by quitting the team and preventing us from having to carry your sorry butts.” He paused. “Any takers?”
    Ilooked over at Frank. I knew he wouldn’t say yes, and I didn’t really want to anyway. I just needed to see the determination in his eyes. He sat up straighter and jutted out his chin in defiance.
    â€œVery well,” the lead figure went on. “Pete, you’re next. . . .”

9
FOUL PLAY
FRANK
    A ND SO I’LL SAY IT one more time, hazing has no place on this team or any team.” Coach Perotta folded his arms in front of him as he looked around at each guy sitting on the floor of the gym in front of him.
    I turned to glance at Joe, but even the tiny