Note: Sha! I have read a Time for Dancing, long long ago. It's an awesome
book, but that's not where I got the idea for this story. Thanks for the
wonderful review: that goes to all readers! Honestly, you guys have been so
great. I can't believe I hit a hundred reviews! I can't believe you've all
stayed with me. I'm trying to move this along, but I don't want to rush. I
try to post a chapter a day, but when school picks up it gets tough. Stay
with me!
On with the show...
(Steve)
"What was that about?" Soda demanded as I turned the register inside the gas station on.
"What was what about?" I snapped, knowing what he meant.
"Why would you say something like that in front of Pony?"
"Because."
"Because?"
"Look, I don't know, I'm sorry, all right?" I mumbled, stalking away. Soda stared at me for a minute, then sighed and looked away.
"This isn't easy for me either," he finally muttered, walking toward the garage part of the gas station. I watched him, taking in the bags under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. I'd already known it was true; I'd been cursing at myself since my outburst at the house.
It's unfair, I thought. It's unfair that Pony has to be sick. He hasn't done anything to deserve it. The Curtis' have been through too much for this.
I was hating too much: hating the unfairness of it, hating the pain Pony was in, the exhaustion that had descended on their house. I hated how miserable all three of them were, completely changed from the happy friends I was used to. All that built inside me, grew and grew until I lashed out at the easiest target: my best friend's kid brother.
"Soda," I suddenly pleaded, stunned by the sincerity of my own voice, "it ain't that I don't like Pony, it's just that..that this is hard on all of us, Soda, not just you."
My best friend turned around and stared at me in shock, surprised by my tone. Why shouldn't he be? I never talked like this.
What's going on with me? I didn't even know anymore.
"I just wish he'd get better...I wish this wasn't happening..." I cut myself off, slamming around the shop as I pulled tools from the shelf and headed after him to the garage. Soda laid a hand on my shoulder, and I knew we were made up.
But it's not the same, I thought miserably, sensing a distance between my best friend and I. And hating all the more because of it.
On with the show...
(Steve)
"What was that about?" Soda demanded as I turned the register inside the gas station on.
"What was what about?" I snapped, knowing what he meant.
"Why would you say something like that in front of Pony?"
"Because."
"Because?"
"Look, I don't know, I'm sorry, all right?" I mumbled, stalking away. Soda stared at me for a minute, then sighed and looked away.
"This isn't easy for me either," he finally muttered, walking toward the garage part of the gas station. I watched him, taking in the bags under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. I'd already known it was true; I'd been cursing at myself since my outburst at the house.
It's unfair, I thought. It's unfair that Pony has to be sick. He hasn't done anything to deserve it. The Curtis' have been through too much for this.
I was hating too much: hating the unfairness of it, hating the pain Pony was in, the exhaustion that had descended on their house. I hated how miserable all three of them were, completely changed from the happy friends I was used to. All that built inside me, grew and grew until I lashed out at the easiest target: my best friend's kid brother.
"Soda," I suddenly pleaded, stunned by the sincerity of my own voice, "it ain't that I don't like Pony, it's just that..that this is hard on all of us, Soda, not just you."
My best friend turned around and stared at me in shock, surprised by my tone. Why shouldn't he be? I never talked like this.
What's going on with me? I didn't even know anymore.
"I just wish he'd get better...I wish this wasn't happening..." I cut myself off, slamming around the shop as I pulled tools from the shelf and headed after him to the garage. Soda laid a hand on my shoulder, and I knew we were made up.
But it's not the same, I thought miserably, sensing a distance between my best friend and I. And hating all the more because of it.