It was being a relaxing weekend (or as relaxing as it could possibly be) when the phone rang on Sunday afternoon. Chris, James, and I were sitting in our family room watching television, and Chris picked it up. I was so busy playing with James that I hardly listened to the conversation until I heard his tone soften considerably as he said, "Yeah, she's right here. Just one second."

He reached for James with one hand as he handed me the phone with the other, mouthing, "Steve?" and looking very concerned.

Steve Randle. I was surprised, but I wasn't. Not only had he been in my class a few years ago, but he was practically a brother to Ponyboy. He had gotten my number from Pony a while ago when he had a question for me about something for one of his younger cousins who was still in the high school.

Steve wanted everyone to think he was tough and that he didn't care, but he also knew that he wasn't and that he did… and that I saw through it. I'd seen through it right from the beginning, but he finally acknowledged that years ago when he and his friends had organized a memorial service when their friend Johnny was killed. He'd had a hard time keeping it together then, and I knew that he cared much more than he let on. I picked up the phone.

"Hey Steve," I said softly, "long time no talk."

"Yeah," he said with a short, sharp laugh. "Sorry to disturb you at home. I just…" he trailed off and then said with complete bewilderment, "I don't know. I don't know why I called. I don't think I even realized that yours was the number I was calling."

My lips twisted in a wry smile. I knew why he was calling. I knew why he'd doggedly kept in touch for all these years with a teacher with whom he hadn't connected until he was out of her class. I gave him the one thing he'd never gotten at home and the one thing he couldn't ask his friends for. (Only Soda could have given it to him anyway.) I could care, and he wouldn't feel threatened, pitied or babied. So I asked the one question I knew he probably hadn't been asked in the time since the accident.

"How are you holding up?" I kept my voice as gentle as possible, and I heard him sigh as his defenses rushed out of him, leaving him like a deflated balloon.

"I … I don't know," he answered honestly. "When I first found out, I just kept breaking down. I couldn't stop. It was the first time in my life that had ever happened. It was … it was scary," he confessed.

I murmured my understanding, afraid to speak lest it make him stop talking.

"But since we found out," he continued, "we've all been so focused on helping Mrs. Mathews that I haven't really had much time to think. I kind of… prefer it that way." He sounded like he felt guilty. I couldn't let that happen.

"I can understand that," I told him softly. "And listen, Steve… when you do have to think about it tomorrow… at the wake… well, I'll be there. I promise."

He sighed again, but I could hear the relief in his voice even as he said, "Yeah, Pony said you'd be there for everything. That's… that's good. Really, really good."

I knew this seemed obvious, but I felt the need to say, "and I really want to see all of you, you know."

"I know," he said too quickly which let me know that he probably did… but he'd also needed to hear it. "Ok, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'm sorry for calling," he started to say, but I stopped him.

"Don't apologize, Steve. I'm glad we got to talk. And I'm glad I'm going to see you tomorrow."

"Thanks," he almost whispered and he hung up quickly.

I turned back to where Chris was sitting on the couch with James in the crook of his arm. James's eyes were closing, and Chris looked away from the T.V. as soon as he heard me hang up.

"He's not doing so great, huh?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question. In the years that I've gotten to know these kids, so has he. He couldn't worry about them as much as I did since he didn't know them as well, but he did like them all very much and felt terrible about everything that was happening.

I nodded and settled down on his other side, letting out a deep breath as I turned my attention back to my own family.

"Yeah. Tomorrow's going to be terrible."