*STEVE'S POV*
I went back home at midnight, trembling slightly as I walked into my house. I hoped to god my old man was outside or asleep, anything but drunk. My wishes never come true. I opened the door quietly, cursing it when it squeaked, announcing my entrance.
"Steven," came my father's voice, "Git in here!"
I hated it when he called me by my real name. However, not daring to disobey, I walked into the kitchen. He was sitting on the kitchen table, a bottle of beer in one hand. I noticed with a shudder that there were many other empty, broken bottles of beer strewn all over the floor. As I came closer, I could smell the beer on his breath.
"What time is it, Steven?" my father's voice was slurred with drunkenness. I didn't answer, but backed away as he jumped of the table. "ANSWER ME, BOY! WHAT THE BLOODY TIME IS IT?"
"Um . . ." I inwardly cursed myself for my weakness.
My father raised his beer bottle and brought it crashing down on my head. Broken glass shattered everywhere. Beer ran down my face, mingling with my blood.
"GIT THE FUCK OUTA HERE YOU SONOFABITCH!" he shouted. "YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE IN THIS HOUSE!"
His words stinging more than the blow to my head, I ran out of the door. Outside it was a chilly, dry night. I kept running blindly, my father's words echoing in my head. I suddenly realized I was crying, something I hadn't done in a long time.
I leaned on a streetlight.
"Get a grip, Steve," I muttered, not caring that I was talking to myself. "Get a fucking grip."
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the Curtis house, stretched out on the couch and, not bothering to wash my face, I instantly fell asleep.
* * *
"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"
I groaned and opened my eyes and found myself looking up at a grinning Two-bit. My head hurt from last night and I felt like shit.
"Steve! What happened to your head?" Soda was also looking worriedly down at me. I sat up.
"My old man. I'm gonna go clean up," I answered shortly.
Soda and Two-bit moved away to give me space and I ran into the bathroom. I looked horrible. There was a trail of blood running down my face, starting from my temple, and beer made my hair fall limply around my face. There were broken pieces of glass on me and my eyes had dark circles around them, from lack of sleep.
I washed my face hurriedly, took a shower and walked out to get some breakfast. The others were already sitting at the kitchen table eating chocolate cake. I paused outside the door, listening to what they were talking about.
"I don't feel good about leaving him by himself today," came Darry's voice.
"I don't like it either, but the doc told us not to get him worked up, and you know he would be if one of us missed a day at work because of him," said my best friend.
"Hey Darry, I can skip school and look after the kid," came Two-bit's voice.
"No. You've missed too many school days," replied Darry.
"I would offer to baby-sit, but as ya'll know, I can't take care of kids," came Dally's voice. I heard them laugh. I smiled too, as I remembered the time Darry had to leave Pony with Dallas because the kid had flu. He had found them at Buck's place later on, teaching Pony how to ride a horse.
"That wasn't funny," came Darry's voice. "It was totally irresponsible."
"Well, so who's gonna look after Pony?" said Soda.
"Steve's only missed one day of school so far," came Two-bit's voice. What? Me? I burst through the door.
"No way. I'm not looking after the kid for a whole day!"
They all looked up at me.
"Steve," Two-bit began.
"No way!" I interrupted. "No. End of conversation."
And that's how I ended up having to look after the kid for the whole day.
"Thanks Steve!" called Soda as they left the house. "You're a real buddy!"
How did I always get myself into these messes? I mean, the kid wasn't that sick anyway! Couldn't they all tell this was just a call for attention? I sighed heavily. I was stuck in the house until a quarter past five, when Darry came home.
I went to the bedroom to check on the kid, just for the hell of it. He was probably sitting up, reading some stupid book to show how smart he was, like he always did.
Walking in, I saw that Pony was actually sleeping. He was tossing around a little, and his forehead was burning hot. I sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him. I hoped to god he didn't have a nightmare. Soda had told me about the ones he had where he woke up screaming blue murder. I wasn't exactly the comforting type.
I went back home at midnight, trembling slightly as I walked into my house. I hoped to god my old man was outside or asleep, anything but drunk. My wishes never come true. I opened the door quietly, cursing it when it squeaked, announcing my entrance.
"Steven," came my father's voice, "Git in here!"
I hated it when he called me by my real name. However, not daring to disobey, I walked into the kitchen. He was sitting on the kitchen table, a bottle of beer in one hand. I noticed with a shudder that there were many other empty, broken bottles of beer strewn all over the floor. As I came closer, I could smell the beer on his breath.
"What time is it, Steven?" my father's voice was slurred with drunkenness. I didn't answer, but backed away as he jumped of the table. "ANSWER ME, BOY! WHAT THE BLOODY TIME IS IT?"
"Um . . ." I inwardly cursed myself for my weakness.
My father raised his beer bottle and brought it crashing down on my head. Broken glass shattered everywhere. Beer ran down my face, mingling with my blood.
"GIT THE FUCK OUTA HERE YOU SONOFABITCH!" he shouted. "YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE IN THIS HOUSE!"
His words stinging more than the blow to my head, I ran out of the door. Outside it was a chilly, dry night. I kept running blindly, my father's words echoing in my head. I suddenly realized I was crying, something I hadn't done in a long time.
I leaned on a streetlight.
"Get a grip, Steve," I muttered, not caring that I was talking to myself. "Get a fucking grip."
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the Curtis house, stretched out on the couch and, not bothering to wash my face, I instantly fell asleep.
* * *
"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"
I groaned and opened my eyes and found myself looking up at a grinning Two-bit. My head hurt from last night and I felt like shit.
"Steve! What happened to your head?" Soda was also looking worriedly down at me. I sat up.
"My old man. I'm gonna go clean up," I answered shortly.
Soda and Two-bit moved away to give me space and I ran into the bathroom. I looked horrible. There was a trail of blood running down my face, starting from my temple, and beer made my hair fall limply around my face. There were broken pieces of glass on me and my eyes had dark circles around them, from lack of sleep.
I washed my face hurriedly, took a shower and walked out to get some breakfast. The others were already sitting at the kitchen table eating chocolate cake. I paused outside the door, listening to what they were talking about.
"I don't feel good about leaving him by himself today," came Darry's voice.
"I don't like it either, but the doc told us not to get him worked up, and you know he would be if one of us missed a day at work because of him," said my best friend.
"Hey Darry, I can skip school and look after the kid," came Two-bit's voice.
"No. You've missed too many school days," replied Darry.
"I would offer to baby-sit, but as ya'll know, I can't take care of kids," came Dally's voice. I heard them laugh. I smiled too, as I remembered the time Darry had to leave Pony with Dallas because the kid had flu. He had found them at Buck's place later on, teaching Pony how to ride a horse.
"That wasn't funny," came Darry's voice. "It was totally irresponsible."
"Well, so who's gonna look after Pony?" said Soda.
"Steve's only missed one day of school so far," came Two-bit's voice. What? Me? I burst through the door.
"No way. I'm not looking after the kid for a whole day!"
They all looked up at me.
"Steve," Two-bit began.
"No way!" I interrupted. "No. End of conversation."
And that's how I ended up having to look after the kid for the whole day.
"Thanks Steve!" called Soda as they left the house. "You're a real buddy!"
How did I always get myself into these messes? I mean, the kid wasn't that sick anyway! Couldn't they all tell this was just a call for attention? I sighed heavily. I was stuck in the house until a quarter past five, when Darry came home.
I went to the bedroom to check on the kid, just for the hell of it. He was probably sitting up, reading some stupid book to show how smart he was, like he always did.
Walking in, I saw that Pony was actually sleeping. He was tossing around a little, and his forehead was burning hot. I sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him. I hoped to god he didn't have a nightmare. Soda had told me about the ones he had where he woke up screaming blue murder. I wasn't exactly the comforting type.
