The race is on, p.1
The Race Is On, page 1
CONTENTS
1. Bet on Chet!
2. Chet’s Big Moment
3. A Sticky Situation
4. Unusual Suspects
5. On the Case
6. The One That Got Away
7. The Evidence
8. Crazy Eddie’s: Gags, Gifts, and More!
9. Just a Hunch
10. The Race Is On
HARDY BOYS COMIC STRIP
1
Bet on Chet!
Chet Morton for class president!” Frank called out. He shoved buttons into Lizzy Kahn’s and Elisa Hernandez’s hands as they walked past. He and Joe had made a hundred of the buttons last week for their friend Chet Morton. Each one said BET ON CHET! in giant blue letters.
Joe stood beside Chet as he greeted all the Bayport Elementary students that came through the front doors of the school. It was just before the first bell. Everyone was in their fall clothes—brand-new jeans, and T-shirts from different places where they’d vacationed over the summer.
“I hope you’ll vote for me tomorrow,” Chet said to Matilda Goodwin, a girl from his class. She was wearing a Disneyland shirt. “Bayport Elementary is ready for a change!”
“Take a cookie,” Joe whispered to Matilda, pointing to the table in front of them. Mrs. Hardy had sent them to school with a batch of her famous double chocolate chip cookies. It helped bring people over to their side of the lobby.
“Do you really think I have a chance?” Chet whispered, glancing across the lobby. Cissy Zermeño was standing there with their other friend Phil Cohen. Behind them was a whole row of posters. TRUST IN CISSY, RE-ELECT CISSY ZERMEÑO, and YOU THINK SHE’S SO NICE, VOTE FOR HER TWICE! Cissy had been president for one year already, and most of the class really liked her. Frank, Joe, and Chet liked her too—she was one of their friends, and she played with them on their baseball team, the Bayport Bandits.
“Of course you have a chance,” Frank said. “We wouldn’t be your campaign managers if we didn’t think you had a chance.”
“Cissy’s great, but it’s time to give someone else a try. Our class needs a change,” Joe added. “Who’s better to do that than you?”
Chet greeted a few more students as they walked in the door, shaking hands with them like a real politician. He was wearing a collared shirt and khakis. He’d worn almost the same outfit every day for two weeks, since the campaign had started. “I guess I’m just nervous,” he said after a group from their gym class left.
“It’s normal to be nervous,” Joe said. He was eight years old and the younger of the two Hardy brothers, with blond hair and blue eyes. His older brother, nine-year-old Frank, had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and looked much more like their dad, Fenton. Fenton Hardy was a private investigator in Bayport. The boys had learned everything they knew about solving mysteries from him.
Frank grabbed a poster from beside the table, unrolled it, and taped it to the wall. It said CHANGE YOU CAN TRUST: CHET MORTON FOR CLASS PRESIDENT in bubble letters. “Maybe you should practice the speech again,” Frank said. “It’s pretty awesome.”
Joe looked around the school lobby. Most of the kids had gone inside their classrooms already. Even Phil and Cissy were packing up their table. “Let’s just wait until they go . . . ,” Joe whispered. He wasn’t usually so suspicious of people, but everyone was saying it was going to be a close vote tomorrow. Many students had promised to vote for Chet, but promises didn’t mean they would actually do what they’d said. It was going to come down to the speeches. They couldn’t let Cissy know what he planned to say.
When Phil had put all the CISSY FOR PRES buttons and pens back in their shoebox, the two of them came over to Chet’s table. “Good luck tomorrow,” Cissy said, reaching out her hand. “May the best candidate win.”
Frank glanced sideways at his brother. Cissy was the pitcher for the Bandits, and it seemed like she was always winning at everything! But even though she’d won the talent show last year and the science fair the year before that, it was hard not to like her. She was always so nice and always did the right thing.
“You too,” Chet said, shaking Cissy’s hand. Phil stood beside her, and for the first time Frank noticed that the button he wore lit up. CISSY’S #1! it said, the number one glowing white. Frank could tell Phil had made it himself—he was always making little gadgets. He loved playing with robots or taking apart his parents’ old computers.
“We’ll see you tomorrow at the assembly,” Phil said, before the two of them turned to go.
When they had disappeared down the hall, Chet pulled the folded speech from his pocket. The paper was worn in places because he’d practiced the speech so much. “Ready?” he asked, looking from Frank to Joe.
“You bet,” Joe said.
Chet cleared his throat and began. “Good morning, students of Bayport Elementary. Most of you know me already, but my name is Chet Morton and I’m running for fourth-grade class president.” Chet looked up at his friends, trying to see if he’d read the first lines well enough. “What do you think? I want to sound friendly but not too friendly.”
“It’s perfect!” Frank encouraged. “Keep going!”
Chet grinned and continued. “We can all agree this is a great place to go to school, but I think some things around here can be better. If you elect me class president, the first thing I’ll do is talk to all of you and hear about what you want to change.”
A few girls came in from outside, talking about a school dance that was being held next week. Chet stopped until they’d passed. When he began again, he talked about all the things he wanted to do for their class. He would get them better lunch choices in the school cafeteria and get picnic benches so they could eat lunch outside if they wanted to. He had another idea called “New Voices.” He wanted to give different students a chance to read the morning announcements, instead of having the same people do it every time. Joe’s and Frank’s favorite idea was for a School Sports Night, where teachers and students would compete for prizes.
“If you give me a chance to be your president,” Chet continued, “I’ll do my best to listen to your ideas and make them happen. And more than anything, I want our class to be closer than ever. Together we can make a change.”
Chet looked up from his paper, waiting to see Frank’s and Joe’s reactions. Both of the boys cheered and clapped.
“Every word was perfect,” Frank said.
“Who wouldn’t vote for you?” Joe asked.
As the bell rang to start class, Frank and Joe collected the BET ON CHET! buttons and their chocolate chip cookies. They ate the last of them while they walked Chet to class.
“Now we just have to wait for tomorrow,” Chet said, folding the speech into his pocket. “I’ll try not to get too nervous. But every time I think of it, it’s hard. More than a hundred students, all in the gym . . .”
“You’re going to be great,” Frank said, giving Chet a high-five. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“You sure?” Chet asked. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets, the way he always did when he was nervous. “I don’t know anymore.”
Joe glanced at his brother, then back at their friend. He put another one of the BET ON CHET! buttons on the front of his shirt, where everyone could see. “I’m positive,” Joe said. “Tomorrow you’re going to rock!”
2
Chet’s Big Moment
I don’t know if I can do this,” Chet said. He paced back and forth in front of the entrance to the gym. The doors were open a crack, revealing the huge crowd of kids. Rows of chairs had been set up, and there was a small stage in the front. Frank and Joe could hear the crowd talking and laughing. The Assistant Principal, Dr. Green, kept telling them to quiet down.
“Of course you can,” Frank said. He was holding Chet’s speech for him. They’d printed it out on a fresh sheet of paper for the big day. Even though only kids from each class could vote for their own grade, all grades had to attend each election speech assembly. The teachers all said it was part of the students’ “civic” responsibility, whatever that meant. To Chet, that just meant a lot more kids listening, and he was super nervous.
Joe went to the gym doors and pointed inside. “Look at all the people who are waiting to hear you talk,” he said. “Look how many people are wearing buttons and holding signs.”
He waved for Chet to come up behind him and see. All three boys stood in the doorway, looking in. They could see two of their friends, Callie and Ellie, holding up signs near the back that said CHET MORTON FOR PRESIDENT. Half of the front row was wearing BET ON CHET! buttons, including a bunch of kids from Chet’s classes.
Chet smiled at the group of friends in the second row chanting, “CHET! CHET! CHET!”
“Everyone is rooting for you,” Frank said, handing Chet his speech. He gave him a pat on the back. “You can do this.”
Chet took a deep breath as the crowd in the gym finally went quiet. Art Carson, one of the shortest kids in the fourth-grade class, came to the microphone. He had glasses and spiky black hair. He emceed nearly every event at Bayport Elementary and took his job very seriously. “Good morning, Bayport students!” he yelled in his signature whiny voice. He sounded a little like a squeaky hinge. “Today you’ll be hearing from two candidates for fourth-grade class president—your current president Cissy Zermeño, and her big competition, Chet Morton!”
Art glanced into the doorway, making sure Chet was there. Frank and Joe stood right behind him. Even though Joe wasn’t in Chet and Frank’s grade, he gave himself the
Frank looked down at the paper in Chet’s hands. He realized Chet was shaking. “You’re going to be great,” Frank reminded him. “Read it just like you practiced.”
Chet wiped the sweat off his forehead with one hand, then adjusted his clip-on tie. “Right,” he repeated. “Just like I practiced.”
“First up is Chet Morton,” Art continued up onstage. “You’ve seen him playing for the Bayport Bandits or working at the wood shop after school. But lately he’s been in the school lobby every morning with chocolate chip cookies, telling you why you should vote for him.” Art put his hand out, pointing to the door. “Let’s give it up for Chet Morton!”
Chet turned back to Frank and Joe and smiled one last time before walking to the stage. He waved to Callie and Ellie in the back row as he passed. Frank could tell he was more nervous than ever. His whole face was red, and he took twice as long as normal to climb the three stairs to the platform. He was obviously worried he was going to trip.
When he finally got to the microphone, he cleared his throat and looked out into the crowd. Everyone was quiet. Dr. Green sat in the front row, smiling up at Chet. “Good morning, students of Bayport Elementary. Most of you know me already, but my name is Chet Morton and I’m running for fourth-grade class president.”
A group of boys in the back of the gym let out a few loud hoots. “Go, Chet!” one of them yelled. Joe squinted, trying to make out who it was. It looked like Jason Prime, the first baseman for the Bandits.
Chet laughed into the microphone. “We can all agree this is—”
Suddenly Chet was cut off as a sheet of green slime rained down from the ceiling. It dripped onto his hair, over his face, and down the front of his shirt. Frank and Joe stood in the doorway, shocked.
“What is that?” Frank asked.
They both looked up to the ceiling, where a small blue bucket was sitting on one of the rafters, with almost half the bucket off the edge. It was upright, but the green slime was dribbling down from a small trapdoor that flapped open at the bottom. Chet stood there underneath it, looking dazed. He was still holding his speech, which was soaked.
The kids started laughing. “Someone slimed him!” a boy in the back yelled out.
Dr. Green stood up, waving for the boy to be quiet. “Enough! Who did this? Who wants to tell me what’s going on?”
Chet wiped the slime from his eyes. He shook it from his hands. Frank and Joe had never seen their friend more upset. His bottom lip was shaking. When he glanced over at them, he looked like he might cry at any moment.
Then he ran down the stage steps and disappeared into the hall.
3
A Sticky Situation
Everyone, quiet down!” Dr. Green yelled. “Who is responsible for this?”
The kids in the front row stopped laughing. They looked around, waiting for someone to say something. Nobody did.
“Who would do that?” Frank asked, turning to his brother. “It’s so . . . mean.”
“I don’t know, but we need to find Chet,” Joe said. The boys slipped out of the gym and into the main lobby. They could still hear Dr. Green yelling. She said something about pranks not being allowed at Bayport, and that whoever did this would be punished.
Frank and Joe went toward the boys’ bathroom first. It looked completely empty.
“Chet?” Frank glanced around. Chet wasn’t at the sinks. Frank turned to the stalls, looking down the row. “Chet, it’s us. Frank and Joe. Are you there?”
“They embarrassed me!” a voice called out from the last stall. “I can’t go back out there.”
Frank walked down to the last bathroom stall and opened it. Chet was there, a wad of toilet paper in his hands. He wiped some of the green slime from the front of his shirt, but it was still all over him—in his hair, on his face. It was even caught in his eyebrows.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Joe said. He hated seeing his friend like this. He grabbed another ball of toilet paper and handed it to Chet. “Whoever did it was trying to ruin your campaign. They must’ve been afraid you were going to win.”
“We don’t know what happened,” Frank said. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. “But it seems like it was meant to wreck your big moment onstage. Come on,” he said, waving Chet out of the stall. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
They walked Chet over to the sinks and turned on the water. Chet leaned down and rinsed his face. He took the slippery pink soap from the dispenser nearby and washed his arms and his face, trying to get the gross goo from behind his ears. When he was done, Joe handed him some paper towels.
“I can’t go back out there—not now, not ever,” Chet said, wiping his eyes. “It was so embarrassing. Everyone was laughing at me.”
“Everyone loves you, Chet,” Frank said. “They were just laughing because . . . I don’t know, because they think slime is funny? It didn’t mean anything.”
“They think I’m a joke. How am I supposed to be class president when I just got slimed in front of everyone? No one’s going to vote for me now.” Chet slumped his shoulders.
“That’s not true!” Joe said.
“I can’t go back onto that stage,” Chet repeated. “I won’t.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. “Chet? Can you come out here so I can talk to you?”
Frank and Joe recognized Dr. Green’s voice. Chet looked at them, then shook his head.
“We’ll come with you,” Joe promised. He walked beside Chet as they went to the door.
When they got there, Dr. Green was standing right outside. Behind her the gymnasium was emptying out. Kids left through the back doors, and some through the doors on the side. No one was laughing or whispering. Everyone seemed serious as they filed out.
“Chet, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Dr. Green said. She looked at Chet’s face, which was mostly clean except for a little smudge of green stuff on his chin. She seemed relieved he wasn’t hurt.
“Yeah, I guess.” Chet lowered his head. He used the last of the toilet paper to wipe some of the slime from his shirt.
“Well, I’m glad you have good friends to look after you,” Dr. Green said, giving Frank and Joe a small smile. “I’m sorry this happened. I’ve decided to postpone the fourth-grade speeches until tomorrow morning, and we can hold the election tomorrow afternoon.”
“I don’t think I can give another speech . . . ,” Chet said sadly. He glanced in the direction of the auditorium. “Not after that.”
“I know it’s upsetting,” Dr. Green said. “But we’re going to find whoever did this. We don’t allow pranks, especially not like this. The person will be caught and punished, and tomorrow you’ll give your speech without having to worry.”
“I don’t know about that,” Chet said, shaking his head.
Dr. Green didn’t seem to hear him. She smiled, her hands clasped together. “Don’t worry, Chet. We’re going to find out who did this,” she repeated. “You can redo your speech, and everyone will vote tomorrow afternoon!”
Chet kept trying to wipe the last bit of slime from his shirt. His clip-on tie was stained, and there was green goo on his new sneakers. “I just hope people will still vote for me,” he whispered.
Frank glanced sideways at his brother, knowing that it didn’t matter what Dr. Green said. They could put the voting off until tomorrow afternoon. That wasn’t the problem. Unless they found out who had put that bucket above the stage, the election wouldn’t go on, no matter how much anyone wanted it to. There was no way Chet was going to give another speech unless they found out who had done this.
4
Unusual Suspects
Why don’t I write you all a pass for the rest of the afternoon,” Dr. Green said, pulling out a notepad. “You’re allowed to take some time, Chet. Maybe you can change into some clean clothes? There are some shirts and shorts in the lost and found.”
Chet frowned at the mention of the lost and found. Everyone had seen the box in the main office, with old ripped sweatshirts and stray socks. One time there’d been a hat that had said GO BANANAS! with three monkeys on the front of it. No one had ever come back to claim it.
