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believe. Out.” She sighed. “That kid drives me crazy. Frank, good call. If you guys could pry Neal away from his new friends, I’ll work on securing the area.”
    The Hardys both nodded and went over to Jim Edwards’s pit area.
    While Sammy Fear was tall and thin, with long hair, Jim Edwards was about five feet ten and muscular, like a running back. His buzz-cut hair was dyed bright orange, and he’d shaved the word Justice across the back of his head.
    Joe set his jaw to try to control his anger upon seeing Edwards. “Nice hair, Jim,” he said, between clenched teeth.
    Edwards spun around quickly. “Yo! Joe Hardy,”he said with a grin. “Listen, man. I’m really sorry about the heat earlier.”
    â€œYeah,” Neal added. “Jim says it was an accident.”
    â€œI’m supposed to believe that?” Joe said, getting in Jim’s face.
    Sammy Fear stepped between them. “Whoa, keep the peace, fellows. It’s over and nobody got hurt, right? Let’s not get all hostile here in front of the president’s son, eh?”
    Joe held his ground. It was Edwards who took a step back, holding his hands up. “Joe, man. You gotta believe me. I ride hard. Trying to win, that’s all.”
    Frank turned the attention back to Neal. “I guess you’re a fan of ‘Justice’ Edwards, huh?”
    Neal nodded enthusiastically. “Both these dudes, man.” He held up a Max Games T-shirt. “Check it out, Frank. They both signed it.”
    â€œThe young prez here tells me he’s in the snowboard competition,” Fear said. “That’s sweet, man. I’ll definitely be there to watch.”
    Neal blushed, obviously flattered.
    â€œAll right,” Agent DuBelle said, stepping in. “Time to go.”
    Agent Ardis showed up and bumped into Frank as he and DuBelle led Neal away. “I told you having those boys watch Neal would only cause problems,” he said, loud enough for the Hardys to hear.
    The athletes watched as several agents cleared the way in front of the president’s son.
    â€œArdis doesn’t like us too much,” Frank said after they’d gone.
    â€œI guess those agents have a tough job,” Edwards said. “You can’t blame them for being rude to people.” He held out his right hand to Joe. “No hard feelings?”
    Reluctantly, Joe shook the hand. “See you on the track tomorrow,” he said.
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    At home Fenton and Laura Hardy sat at the kitchen table, listening to their sons recount their exciting evening.
    â€œI’ve never met Ken Ardis,” Fenton was saying. “But I remember Agent DuBelle. She seemed very professional.”
    Frank laughed. “She has her work cut out for her.”
    â€œI’ll say,” Joe added. “Neal Jordan is a better escape artist than Houdini.”
    Laura Hardy brought more hot soup over from the stove and filled Joe’s bowl. “I’m sure it’s hard for Neal,” she said. “All this attention every place he goes.”
    Joe slurped up a spoonful of vegetable soup. “I’m just psyched Agent DuBelle asked us to help. And then Frank here came to the rescue when he poofed. That was amazing. How’d you know he’d be talking to Jim?”
    â€œA hunch,” Frank said. “Neal doesn’t say much, but while we were watching the snocross he seemed to be a big fan of Edwards.”
    Joe tipped the bowl and spooned up the rest of his soup. “Well,” he said, wiping his mouth, “he’s going to be disappointed when I whip up on Edwards in the final, then.”
    The Hardys all went into the living room to watch the late news. There, in the sports wrap-up, was a section on the Max Games. Sammy Fear was shown landing in the middle of the stadium, and then the footage cut to Edwards’s landing his snowmobile right on top of