The lights had already begun to flicker when the howling wind slammed the door behind us. I spotted a cashier, whom I recognized as Steve Randle, tuning a transistor radio to the weather station. Soda went up to him hurriedly, but I stayed back and pretended to look through the shelves. I hoped he didn't see me.

I had nothing against Steve, but I hadn't seen him since the week leading up to the rumble. Even then, we'd hardly said a word to each other. And we didn't get along too well. I thought he was alright, though. He hadn't seemed like a bad guy to me. I knew him from school-he and his girlfriend Evie had both been in my creative writing class last semester. He was Soda's best friend, but the two of us didn't get along too well. He was distant and serious, and had only spoken to me because he had to.

Steve was tall and slim, with intricately combed dark brown hair. He had hazel eyes and what seemed to be an ever-present scowl on his face. I saw him light up a cigarette as Soda spoke to him.

"We've just got to wait this one out, I suppose," remarked a woman who was standing next to me, taking a candy bar off the shelf. I turned and nodded at her, smiling to be polite.

"I'm sure it won't take too long," I replied. I didn't mind small talk with strangers, especially if I needed a good distraction. "It's only a thunderstorm."
"I certainly hope so," she told me. "I've got to get home and start dinner."

I was about to respond, but I felt a tap on my shoulder. Soda was standing next to me. He gestured to the back of the store. "Hey, you two should get to the back room. It's headed the other way, but they're sayin' Douglas might get hit."

"Alright," I said. "I sure didn't think it would get this bad. You think we'll lose power?"
Soda shrugged and held the door open for us. "Not if it doesn't hit us. I doubt the dance is still on, though."

That was a shame. I'd really been looking forward to going, but I didn't think that there was any chance there would still be a dance in this kind of weather.

Everyone was crouched on the floor when the door closed behind us. I locked eyes with Steve, who was in a corner of the room. He looked bewildered at first, and I nodded coyly before averting my eyes away from him. I couldn't tell whether he was angry or just surprised to see me. I hoped he wasn't mad. He probably wanted to forget about me and start all over again. I'd been trying to do that, too. The whole situation was just awful, and I doubted he'd ever seen anything like it, either. That was why I was avoiding Ponyboy. It wasn't him, it was me. I didn't want to revisit that night at the drive-in, when I'd met him and realized we weren't so different, after all. I didn't want to remember the awful things Dallas Winston had said to Marcia and me, and I didn't want to remember how furious Bob had been when he'd seen us walking home with three greasers. So how could I blame Steve for ignoring me?

The back room of the DX was starkly silent, except for the sounds of the thunder outside and the driving rain on the roof of the building. It was awful lonely. All any of us could do was wait and hope the storm would pass. I was wondering what Marcia would have to say. She and everyone else were stuck at school until the weather cleared up, and it was all because of me.

The irregular flickering of the lights worsened, and soon the room went completely dark. A few people groaned. "There they go," the woman sighed. She was seated across the room from me.

"It's alright," the manager, who had come out of his office, reassured everyone. "These things never last too long."

With each passing minute, I grew more and more anxious. The sense of anticipation in the room was overwhelming. It was fairly crowded, too. I counted fifteen heads-fifteen shadows against the wall, and I barely knew any of them. I hoped to God that this was nothing more than a thunderstorm, and that I could get out of there soon enough.

Finally, after a while, the rain died down, and the air was calm once again. The manager got up and opened the door. I could see that the whole building had gone dark. At least it was starting to clear up outside. The gray clouds were disappearing just in time for the sun to start setting behind the trees.

"I think we'll have to close a few minutes early tonight," the manager said. People were starting to get up and head out back towards their cars. I followed Soda to the door.

The ground outside was damp and covered with so many leaves I could hardly even see the pavement. It was still drizzling, but the wind had stopped, and it was starting to get warmer out. I opened the door to my car. I was lucky I'd remembered to close the window.

"Guess I gotta help close up shop," he sighed. "I'll see you around."

"Could you say hi to Steve for me?" I asked. "If he wouldn't mind it, I mean. I didn't know he worked here, too."

Soda grinned. "Sure I will. He'll be glad to hear from you."

I hoped he was right. "Thanks," I replied. "I'll talk to you later, Soda." I climbed into the car and started the engine. The dashboard clock read four fifty-ten minutes until the DX was supposed to close for the night. Soda waved as I drove off towards school. I smiled back at him, wanting to believe his words to me about Steve, and knowing they probably weren't true.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Everyone was waiting by the door to the gym when I pulled into the school parking lot. A few other people had shown up in the time I'd been gone, but it looked like they were all starting to leave. There was no doubt the dance was off now. I saw Mrs. Anderson, who taught algebra and helped to organized most of our school's functions, standing with the rest of the group. She'd been one of my favorites when I'd taken her class-one of those teachers that made sure she was teaching at the right pace for everyone in the class. I needed a teacher like that now.

"It's nice to see you, Sherri," she told me, smiling warmly as I approached the group. "I'm sorry you went all that way for nothing."

"It's alright," I replied. "It's too bad about the dance."
Marcia looked relieved. "You sure were gone for a while there."

I nodded. "Sorry about that. I got caught up in the storm. I take it dinner's cancelled."
"Yeah," Marcia sighed. "It really is too bad. We'd better get going. Thanks for waiting with us,

Mrs. Anderson."

"It's no problem, Marcia," Mrs. Anderson told her. "You girls have a nice night."

We walked off towards the car. I got in the backseat, right next to Kathleen. Without saying a word, Marcia turned on the radio, just like she always did, and I was lonely once again.

I couldn't get it off my mind how miserable I felt. Every time I tried to be happy, something had to ruin it for me, whether it was Susan, Gary, or a thunderstorm. No one I knew had seemed truly happy lately, now that I thought about it. It didn't matter how much any of them tried to hide it from everyone else. I could always tell. Even my own parents constantly pretended everything was fine when I locked myself up in my room every afternoon and didn't come downstairs until dinner. Sadness was alien to them-something abnormal that could only keep us from looking like the picture-perfect family we were nowhere close to being.

My friends, or at least the people who used to be my friends, weren't any better. They, or maybe even we, were too busy suppressing our emotions to even give them a second thought, much less talk about them. There were more important things to worry about, like what party was Saturday night, or what everyone had been wearing lately, or which club was having it out with whoever else. I hadn't been hearing too much about any rumbles now, which I knew was for the best, but at least they used to give me a sense of at least some normality. I had always hated fights. But the lack thereof was strange.

The sky was starting to get dark when Marcia dropped me off. I hastily thanked her for the ride and got out of the car. Relieved, I saw that both Scott and my mother had come home already. I hoped they hadn't been waiting for me.

The lights were on in the foyer, meaning that our neighborhood hadn't lost power. My mother came downstairs as soon as the front door closed. Before I could even get a word in, she pulled me tightly into a hug.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You had us all so worried."
"I'm fine," I answered, flustered. "I was just about to head upstairs to take a shower."

My mother let go and nodded. She was smiling, but she looked strangely sad. "Sounds good," she said. "We're having chili tonight. Your father's still up in his office." She sighed. "How about I make us some tea? I feel like I haven't seen you in such a long time."

I heard that from my mother all too often. Despite being family, I hardly ever talked to her. "Alright," I replied. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
I climbed up the stairs to start the water. I was still pretty cold from getting rained on, and all of my clothes were soaked through. Besides, I needed a break. I'd had a stressful day, and it wasn't getting any better. The last thing I wanted to do was homework, but I still had so much left. I was dreading the end of the month.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say to my mother. I didn't want to lie to her, but I was even more afraid to tell her the truth. As much as I wanted to give in and confess to her what had really been happening, I knew she would be disappointed. And I knew my father would be angry when she told him about it. I didn't know which one was worse. All I wanted was for my parents to be proud of me, and I couldn't even have that anymore. I felt like a failure. I had disappointed everyone I cared about in my life, including myself.

I finished up in the shower and changed into a dry skirt and sweater. I could hear the tea kettle whistling from the kitchen, so I reluctantly headed downstairs to where my mother was sitting at the table. She stood up when she saw me, and went to pour the tea.

Our kitchen was big, with windows near the table letting the light from the setting sun stream into the room. The curtains were drawn, revealing the back porch and my mother's garden, full of bright red roses, a few of which she'd picked and placed in a vase as a centerpiece in the dining room, where we ate dinner together every night. My mother took two porcelain cups from the wooden cabinet and filled them both with hot water. She set them down on the kitchen table to steep and took a seat across from me.

"I haven't talked to you enough lately," she stated, sure of her words. I was, too.

I glanced out the window. "I've been busy with schoolwork."

"I know," my mother sighed. "Is everything alright at school? Your grades are still good?"

I knew that she knew, but I still nodded and told her that nothing was wrong. "Yes, Mom, everything's great. Why?"

"To be honest, Sherri," she replied, looking me right in the eyes. "I'm a little bit worried about you. You haven't seemed like yourself lately, with everything that's happened."

"I'm fine," I told her abruptly. "Believe me. You know I'd tell you if I wasn't."

"You never spend this much time alone," she continued. I almost sighed, but I caught myself. "And I know it's the end of a quarter, and you have a lot of work to do, but I've never seen you locked away in your room for so long before."

I took a sip of tea. "I'm just tired. I'll make sure to sleep tonight, alright? It's nothing."

"Look, I know this has been hard on you," said my mother. Hard was an understatement. She didn't even know the half of it. "What happened was a tragedy. But it's going to be alright."

Alright? Nothing could make what happened anything close to alright. Nothing could bring Bob or Johnny or Dallas back, as much as I tried to bargain with God for a miracle-just one. Maybe everything would get better with time. But it wouldn't ever be alright.

My parents had never even liked Bob. They were wary of all the guys who took me out, since I was still sixteen and they were pretty strict, but I could tell it was different with him. My mother was the type of person to give everyone a chance. My father had been much more explicit about it. The two of them had never gotten along, even though Bob's old man worked at the same law firm as mine. My mother and father had known he drank (just not how much), and my father especially was usually quite concerned about that kind of thing. I knew he trusted me to not get into trouble like that, but he definitely didn't trust most of the boys I dated.

"I promise I'm fine," I replied, biting my lip. I'd started to get better at lying, but I could still see the nervous look in my mother's eyes. "Don't worry about me. Everything's okay."

"This has been rough on all of us," she continued softly. I knew that. I'd seen it myself. "And I trust your word. But, if you need me, I'm here. I'm still your mother."

I was about to reply, but Scott came into the room. "What time's dinner?" he asked, searching the fridge for a coke.

My mother looked up. "Six thirty," she answered. "I'd better get started."

"I've got work to do," I muttered. "I'll see you then."

I walked past Scott through the doorway to the living room. My essay was still sitting on the coffee table, right where I had left it. I grabbed it and headed upstairs to my room to write.

I could hear my mother stand up in the kitchen. I hated to worry her. But coming clean would be even worse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rest of the evening was pretty quiet. The rain had stopped, and the air outside was calm once again. Dinner was spent with the small talk my family always had to make at the table to keep the conversation flowing. I got another two hundred thirty-five words written on my essay.

I had just finished brushing my teeth when the phone in the hallway rang. My father handed it to me as I headed back to my bedroom.

"It's Marcia," he told me. I nodded and took the phone from him. He shut the door to his room and flipped off the light switch. I spoke quietly as to not disturb anyone.

"Hey," I greeted her, trying not to sound too tired. "What is it?"

Marcia sighed. "Hey. I'm sorry to bother you so late. 'Course, I expected you to pick up the phone instead of your dad." She laughed weakly, but her tone quickly became more serious. "I've just been busy all afternoon, and I really need to talk to you."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "It's only ten o'clock. What do you need to talk about?"

"I don't know how to say it," she started with hesitation. I lowered my voice to respond, knowing she wouldn't want my parents to hear us.

"You know you can tell me anything," I replied. "My parents won't hear. Their door's shut."

"I'm worried about Randy," Marcia admitted.

I'd been expecting her to say that. I replied after a few seconds and resisted telling her that I was worried, too.

"Why? Is there something wrong?"

"I dunno," said Marcia. "It's just-he doesn't seem happy to me. We hardly ever go out anymore. I feel like I'm losing him all over again. It's sort of hard to explain."

"I think I know what you mean," I replied. I knew exactly what she meant. "Look, I'm sure he's alright. Why don't you give him a call?"

"He's not going to talk to me," she muttered. "I just wish he'd let me listen to him. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"He probably just needs time," I reassured her, trying to convince myself of the same thing. "We all do. It's hasn't even been two months since everything happened."

"I know that," she said. "God, I want things to be different. I can't let this happen again. I know we're not perfect, but I still love him."

I heard Marcia's mother calling her from upstairs. "I'd better go," she told me. "I'll see you on Monday."

"See you then," I said. "Have a good night."

She hung up the phone, and I went back into my room. I wasn't expecting to get too much sleep, especially after that phone call, but I could at least try to. I flipped off the light switch and shut the door, my mind still racing. The house was completely silent, yet there was still no way I would get any rest tonight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: I wanted to let you all know that I made a playlist for The Aftermath. It's on Spotify, under the same name and by nothing-gold67 (yours truly). And, yes, my profile picture is PS1 Hagrid. It's sort of random (meaning you might go from Simon & Garfunkel to Evanescence pretty darn fast), and some of the songs fit into different contexts under the playlist than when they did when they were written, but that's just because of my own interpretations of the lyrics. I hope you guys enjoy it, and that I didn't screw anything up with making it public (I can't do technology). Stay gold.