I came downstairs, dusty and grimy from the attic. Dad and Ponyboy were at the table, an open pizza box in front of them. Gold beers in glasses by their hands. I reached for my dad's and sipped it, then took a slice of pizza.
"Get lost up there?" Dad said.
"Yeah. I had to follow bread crumbs to get out,"
I noticed an easier feeling between dad and uncle Ponyboy, some sort of easing of the tension. I looked at Ponyboy in a new way.
"Well, what was so interesting up there?" Dad said. I shrugged. I was reluctant to tell them about the essay I'd found, I wanted to keep it for myself.
"Nothing really,"
I was chewing on my pizza when someone rapped on the screen door and came in before anyone said come in.
"Hey, man, I heard you were in town," It was a guy about my dad's age with receding brown hair, faded tattoos up both arms, grease stained jeans. He smiled and I noticed he had teeth missing.
My dad looked at him blankly for a half second then broke into a wide grin.
"Steve!"
They shook hands and hugged, kind of slapping each other on the back type of hug. Ponyboy smiled mildly at this reunion. I remembered in his essay he said he hadn't really liked Steve, but that was when he was 14. I wondered if he still felt the same.
I'd pictured Steve Randle in my head when I was reading 'The Outsiders' and now here he was, aged instantly 18 years.
His eyes flicked over to me.
"Is this your kid?" he said to my dad and he nodded, ruffled my hair.
"Yep. That's Kevin,"
"Hi, Kevin," Steve had sharp little eyes, and he looked at me kind of funny, like he couldn't believe my dad had a kid as old as me or maybe that I looked a lot like my dad did when he was younger.
Steve tried to convince dad to go out drinking with him or something. He didn't seem to want to go because of me but Steve wore him down.
"Don't worry, Soda. I'll stay with him," Ponyboy said, and dad smiled his movie star grin and took off.
I wanted to go back to the attic, finish reading the essay but I felt sort of obliged to stay and talk to uncle Ponyboy.
"So, um, why are you selling the house?" I said, taking another slice of pizza.
He shrugged, lit up a cigarette.
"Don't know. It's just time, I guess. There's nothing here for me now,"
"Where are you going to move to?" I said, licking the pizza sauce from my fingers, wondering if uncle Ponyboy would let me have a beer.
He shrugged and in that gesture it reminded me of how I'd pictured him when I was reading the thing.
"New York, maybe. Syracuse. There's a college up there with a pretty good writing program. I used to write,"
"I know," I said, before thinking.
"You do?" he said, looking at me curiously.
"Um, yeah, well, dad's mentioned you used to write, and draw, and read books and stuff," In fact he had not mentioned that, he never talked about his family. But Ponyboy seemed to believe me.
"Oh," He ground out the cigarette and stared out the window into the blackness.