"Steve, I swear it was moved!" Soda and Steve had walked to the park to throw the football around. As Soda figured out what was bothering him upon entering the kitchen that morning, he had to get out and hopefully get told by Steve that he was being crazy. Deep down, Soda knew being crazy wasn't the logical answer anymore though.

"Just slow down," Steve squeezed the football as he prepared to toss it, "Tell me what happened this morning."

"I was the first up and went into the kitchen, and I guess when I walked through the doorway, something just seemed different. It felt off. I walked out and walked back in a few times to try and notice what wasn't the same," Soda explained, "I thought maybe it was just because I'm use to seeing Darry or Pony in there already when I get up. I couldn't convince myself that was it though. I walked a little further in and that's when I noticed the table."

"And what was so off about the kitchen table?" Steve threw the football.

Catching it, Soda continued, "It was moved too close to the counter. I only noticed, because one of the chairs was right against it. You wouldn't have been able to pull it out to sit down. And then when I went over to the backdoor, I noticed the table did seem further away from the backdoor than I remember." Soda looked up towards the sky. "Damn I should have just left it to show you. I moved it back though to try and prove it to myself that it was moved."

"You don't think Darry could have moved it to sweep or something?"

Soda shook his head throwing the football back to Steve, "He's never moved it to sweep. He just moves the chairs. I'm telling you, someone did it."

"You're sure someone else did it?" Steve asked.

"The table being moved, that weird white paper on your car, and Tim's tires. It has to be Dalton messing with me, messing with us. He has to know more about us than he let on. He probably knew us before we even ran into him at that drag race."

Steve looked at Soda and took a hard swallow, "What are you saying?"

"I don't know. I'm saying he is going to keep messing with us. He's not going to stop. I don't know what his goal is, but I think it's only going to get worse. I fucked up by getting so deep in with him," Soda ran a hand through his hair in panic, "I fucked up so bad, Steve. I should have known from word around other people that you don't mess with drug dealers like that. You don't screw them over. You don't screw over scam artists or whatever. You just don't, because they will make you regret it."

Steve walked closer to Soda and handed him the football, "And you know how you get yourself out of this shit?"

Soda shrugged, "How?"

"We show him he's messing with the wrong gang."


It was the middle of the night when Soda suddenly stirred awake. He rolled to try and shake it off, but heard little crackles against his bedroom window. He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. No one threw rocks at the windows of the Curtis house. Everyone just helped themselves inside. Soda let out a yawn as he moved the curtain a little. He didn't see anyone.

Feeling his nerves rise, he went downstairs and decided to check out the front door. He opened the door and took a step outside. Looking around, he didn't see anything. He walked back inside and went to the backdoor, since his bedroom window faced the backyard. Opening the door, he looked out and still nothing.

"Great, now I'm going to get no sleep wondering what the hell that was," Soda shook his head. Before he stepped back inside, something caught his eye on the porch. He stepped out, unable to tell what it was. He bent over and picked up the object. As soon as his vision cleared up in the dark, he felt his heart skip a beat and his grip let go, dropping the object.


The phone rang throughout the house. It was echoing extra loud as it was the middle of the night. It triggered the brainwaves, jolting the body as it had not expected such an alarm to go off. Not wanting his dad to get pissed off, Steve leaped out of bed and hurried out into the hall.

"Who the hell is calling us!" Mr. Randle yelled from his room.

"I'm getting it!" Steve yelled back. He lifted the phone, partially out of breath. "Hello?"

"Steve, I'm so sorry to call you..."

"Soda?"

"Yes, yes! Please come over, please come right now!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Steve could still feel his heart attempting to slow down, unsure what was causing such panic at the Curtis house, "I'm on my way."


Soda stayed on his front porch. He kept walking down the driveway, checking down the road, and turning around to go back to the porch. As close as Steve's house was, it sure felt like it was taking an eternity to drive to it. The moment headlights started pouring onto the street, becoming brighter and brighter, Soda hurried down. Steve's car pulled up to the house and slowed to a stop. Steve parked the car and stepped out. "Damn Soda, what is going on?" Steve asked shutting the driver door, "You about to give my old man a fit."

"I'm sorry Steve. I need your help. Come here, quick," Soda grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him towards the house, "Someone was throwing rocks at my window. I came out here and out the back to find out what was going on."

"Who was it?" Steve asked quietly as Soda pulled him inside the house. Steve looked around the house, expecting something to be inside. He wasn't finding anything though. He followed the shaky Soda into the kitchen.

"Take a guess," Soda turned on the kitchen light and pointed towards the table.

Steve looked down and saw a pill bottle. "Is that..."

"It's Ponyboy's," Soda swallowed, "It's empty."

"What?" Steve grabbed the bottle and looked inside, "Oh my God..."

"Steve," Soda got close to Steve while talking in a desperate whisper, "Dalton took Pony's pills!"

Steve just stared at the bottle. His anger was raging. It took everything in him not to throw his fist through the wall. Soda began pacing the kitchen, no the verge of tears. Steve's fist began shaking, as he tightened his grip on the bottle. He took a deep breath, turning his head back and forth, trying to keep himself from throwing something to the window. "Where did you find this?"

Soda leaned against the counter, "It was on our back porch."

"And you heard someone throwing rocks at your window?"

Soda nodded, "Yeah."

"So, they wanted you to find this," Steve slowly put the bottle on the table. He watched as Soda sunk himself to the floor, letting tears slowly escape his eyes.

"Steve, Pony could get really sick," Soda silently cried out, "How could I let this happen?"

Steve walked over and got to the floor, "Soda, I know you don't want to hear this, but...you have to tell Darry." Soda looked up at Steve, fear filling his face. "He's going to find this empty bottle tomorrow, Soda. You have to tell Darry. Please!"

Soda sniffled and buried his face into his knees.

"Soda, please! We have to tell Darry!"

Soda's head shot up, he wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat, "Okay, okay. I know you're right." Soda let out a breath as he let his head lean back. "I'll tell him."

"Good. Let's go get him right now."