Free The Genius Thieves by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

won't be necessary," Castigan said. He looked directly into Frank's eyes, scowling.
    "Claiming forgery is the oldest trick in the book, Frank. You know, students have been expelled from Chartwell before. Don't make it worse for yourself. You are definitely on thin ice."

Chapter 13
    WHEN HE GOT back to his room at four, Frank pored over his notes on the case. Nothing seemed to fit, and he was having a difficult time concentrating. He wished he could be at home, his feet up in Dad's den, thinking things through. At Chartwell he was never completely free. Arnie was at a math club meeting, and Brad was at the gym, but any minute one of them could come back.
    Frank felt angry. Someone was outwitting him. He paced back and forth, wondering who could have forged his writing and switched the exams without Mr. Osborn finding out.
    His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he asked.
    "It's me, Sarah. Can I come in?"
    "Uh, just a minute!" His desk was covered with papers about the case. He scooped everything up, threw it into a manila folder, and shoved it in a desk drawer. "I'll be right there!" he called out. He slammed the drawer shut and walked over to the door.
    "Welcome to the Chartwell pigpen!" he said as he opened the door. Sarah looked around. The walls of the room had just been painted, so all of the furniture had been moved to the center of the room. "We haven't had a chance to straighten it out," said Frank with a shrug.
    "Hey, I'm used to this," Sarah said. "I have brothers." She looked closely at Frank. He smiled but kept a cool distance. "Is something wrong, Frank? What took you so long to come to the door? What was that shuffling I heard?"
    "Shuffling? I was probably practicing my tap dancing." Frank grinned, hoping she'd drop the subject.
    Sarah laughed. "Come on, something's bothering you. Is it the English exam? You never told me what you got on it." She went to sit down on his desk chair, but a piece of paper had fallen onto it. She picked it up and read out loud, " 'Chartwell computer scam—notes re: suspected students and personnel — Frank Hardy.' What does all this mean?"
    Frank grabbed the paper from her and pretended to look at it as if he'd never seen it. "Hmm, what's this? Maybe Brad's writing a school newspaper article."
    "Under the pen name 'Frank Hardy'?" Sarah gave him a knowing look. "You're trying to pull something, aren't you?"
    Frank sat at the edge of his desk. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I can't talk right now about certain things. But someday — "
    "Don't you feel you can trust me, Frank? I trust you."
    Frank looked straight into her eyes. She looked so open and hurt. He began to feel some of the same things he had felt by the river on Saturday. She was demanding an answer from him. But he realized he, too, had something to settle.
    "I'm not sure I do trust you," he said. "Tell me the truths — are you still seeing Stu Goldman? Someone told me he saw you two behind the tennis courts the other day."
    Sarah's face turned red. "It must have been that snob roommate of yours, Brad Rogers. I saw him giving us a look." She shook her head and smiled sadly.
    "Poor Stu. He was following me around like a puppy dog, trying to apologize for that fight with you. I had to talk to him for about two hours when he cornered me behind the courts, but I laid it on the line, and he finally took no for an answer." Frank nodded. "I see — " "Okay. You have my story. Now you owe me one."
    Frank hung his head. He didn't know what to do. The mission had to be a secret; Frank and Joe had both agreed to that. But Sarah was so trusting—and besides, she was one of the brightest people he had met. Maybe she would be a help in cracking the case. Anyway, she already knew too much, after seeing that piece of paper. It would be better to try to get her on his side. He took one more look into her questioning blue eyes and decided what to do. He took a deep breath, hoping he was doing the right thing.
    "Will you