"Wait, so how does she know again?"

To say they were riding uncomfortably in Steve's car might as well have been an understatement. As if the anticipation of returning to Dustin's house wasn't enough to put them on edge, knowing they were willingly putting themselves in front of something that maimed a cat and had the potential to maim them should have pushed them right over . . . It hadn't, somehow, but they felt pretty close.

Or at least Rowen did.

Steve's continuous tapping on the steering wheel didn't make things better, either; nor did the way Dustin had positioned himself between them so he could explain everything for the second time in a row. Even with the amount of room in the BMW, they felt squished together. Some more than others . . the some being Rowen and Steve.

Dustin was too focused on the fact that he had to repeat himself to feel truly uncomfortable, irritated after having unloaded every detail of it, only to do it again. Either his rambling had become gibberish somewhere along the way and Rowen hadn't caught it, or Steve was simply not listening.

Once again, Dustin explained Dart and the adventure that was keeping him in his turtle's tank for a week, bringing him to school, only to bring him back home, then find the next day that he had grown four sizes bigger . . And sure, leaving Dart in his room probably wasn't the best idea, and Rowen's appearance may have been untimely, but unlike everything else that had been going on, her discovery was an accident. It was that simple.

"As I said, she showed up at my house when I was gone. She saw Dart in my room and freaked out."

"I did not freak out," she objected.

"Yes, you did."

"Why did you go into his room in the first place?" Steve asked her, keeping his gaze pinned on the road.

"Because I heard weird noises. Who wouldn't go into a room after hearing weird noises?"

"Uh . . me. That's who."

Rowen scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because you're so smart."

"This isn't about being smart. This about you snooping around."

"I wasn't snooping! I thought it was Mews. That's why I went in there."

"Mews? Who's Mews?"

"My cat, Steve. She was my cat," Dustin said from the back. "And Dart is going to eat a lot more than her if we don't get there soon enough. Hopper's MIA, the party isn't answering. We're the only three that know about this, and we have to figure out how to keep Dart in my cellar until someone picks up and comes to help."

"Dustin, we've covered all of that," Steve said. "What's your point?"

"My point is, you're a slow-ass driver. The longer we take, the bigger Dart is going to get, which means it's more likely he'll be able to get out if we're not there!"

"Dustin, there's a difference between being slow and not wanting to get a speeding ticket."

Rowen momentarily thought of Billy and his own speeding ticket . . and how she had found it . . and how she made him pay it off . . and how Hopper saved their asses . . and — wait . . where was Hopper, anyway?

"Oh, what? So you're scared you're gonna get pulled over?" Dustin sassed.

"No —"

"You know what, you should get pulled over. Maybe then we could get Hopper to show up . ."

"That won't work," Rowen muttered, not entirely aware that she had said it aloud.

"What?"

She blinked herself out of her thoughts, looked between the two. "It won't work. Hopper left to go help the Byers with something yesterday, but . ."

"But if he's with the Byers, then that means we should be able to reach him . . right?" Steve finished for her, directing his question towards Dustin.

"Why are you asking me?" Dustin questioned. "Rowen's the one that tried calling him a thousand times."

"Because you're the one that knows about this stuff, man. Do you think he's at the Byers'?"

He sighed. "No. We already tried them. No one's picking up."

If it was even possible, Rowen deflated more than she already had, sinking further into her seat. She had already known that trying to reach Hopper and trying to reach the Byers was a lost cause, but somehow hearing it reiterated from Dustin's mouth only made it feel more final. They really were alone in this, with little means of protection . . . She found it strange that Mrs. Byers had called the station over and over yet wouldn't answer when it was Rowen who was trying to reach her and not the other way around.

Something had to have happened . . it just had to. Mrs. Byers didn't seem like the kind of person to ignore her phone, and with everything that Dustin had unloaded the previous day, Rowen knew for a fact that she would not ignore something like this. Not when her own son was stuck in the middle of it all the year prior. She just . . couldn't. Neither could Hopper.

Maybe something happened to him too . . . Rowen felt her stomach drop at that thought. He had said he was going to the Byers, he had said he wouldn't be gone for hours. It had been many hours; though, somehow, instead of feeling annoyed that he hadn't lived up to his promise, all she felt was worried. What if Dart wasn't the only Demogoron out there? What if there were others neither she nor Dustin nor Steve knew about? What if one got Hopper and Mrs. Byers? . . What if one got Will — again.

Rowen shook her head a little. Now was not the time to overthink . . it was the very last time to overthink.

She tried focusing on the sky that zipped above them as they rolled down the road. The sun had long since set, leaving it bathed in deep purples and blues and a trickle of pink that tried its best to stay visible on the horizon; it was nothing but a sliver now, displaying the last rays of the sun that was already wanting to go to sleep despite it only being five o'clock, to let the moon rise and shine. Rowen did not like the fact that winter meant shorter days — not simply because it intensified the chill she felt creep around her, but because now . . now she really had something to fear in the dark. This wasn't something her mom could masterfully reveal as nothing but a branch or a squirrel. The only thing she would earn out of revealing this was the chance of being eaten . . . being killed.

Jesus, she really hoped none of them died tonight. The fact that Dustin had gone and trapped Dart by himself had already sent her nerves into a frenzy. She felt her fingers twitch . . She forgot her cigarette pack at the house. Fuck. She started to pick at the sleeve of her sweater, pulling at a thread.

"Okay, so . . before I start thinking we have a you-know-what problem on our hands," Steve began, bringing her out of her thoughts. "And, you know, freaking out and all that shit . . are you sure the thing you trapped in your cellar is . . you know . ."

She could hear the frustration in Dustin's grumble without having to look at him. "Are you shitting me — yes, I am sure, Steve. Why the hell do you think I'm making you drive us?"

"I know why, I just . . I wanna make sure, alright? How big was it, anyway?"

Rowen turned this time when Dustin started shuffling in the backseat, hoisting himself over the armrest. He leaned on his elbows, held his hands up so Steve could see. "First he was like that," he said, holding his hands a few inches apart. Dustin then proceeded to widen the distance, holding his hands a few feet apart, "Now he's like this."

Steve blinked at the visual, sighed, and turned his gaze back to the road. "I swear to God, man, if this is just some little lizard you guys thought —"

"It's not a lizard," Dustin stated.

"How do you know?"

"How do we know?" Rowen echoed, turning to glare at him with an incredulous look on her face.

"Yes, how do you know if it's not just a lizard?"

"Because its face opened up like some freaky — toothy flower!" she exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? Dustin just told you it ate his cat!"

"I just —"

"Yeah, yeah, you just want to make sure," Rowen cut him off, plopped back into her seat. "I almost got eaten but whatever . ."

She heard Steve sigh heavily.

"It is a Demogorgon, Steve," Dustin said, softer this time, but no less serious. "We're sure."

Eventually, Steve sighed, said, "Listen, I'm sorry. It's just . . I was just really hoping all this shit was over, you know? After a year, I thought we could relax. That we could believe we got rid of it . . for good."

"Me too," Dustin's voice was small; smaller than Rowen had ever heard it. It made her want to reach out and squeeze his hand despite the fear she felt coursing through her, making her heart pound . . making any show of strength feel like a lie. She knew she wasn't going to fool Dustin by putting up any kind of courageous facade, or keeping her face straight and brushing the whole thing off as if all they were doing was trapping a dog or a raccoon or . . you know. Something that wasn't other-dimensional and completely, utterly dangerous.

He had found her on the floor, shaking and frantic. He had seen her without any semblance of a mask or the notion that she was calm and collected; that was the last thing she had been. Dustin had seen her completely terrified, completely rattled; and whether he teased her about it or not, she knew he knew what she was thinking.

She was thinking it was going to take a lot of willpower not to bolt in the opposite direction once they opened the cellar. She was thinking it was going to take a lot of restraint and skill to come off as cool and collected, even if it was obvious that she wasn't. It was going to take a lot to plant her feet and ignore her fear, to not choose flight, and to not lose her grip on the off chance that Dart would attack them. Being scared and unresponsive was the last thing she needed to be when facing a literal monster. She needed to be brave . . She needed to be ready.

Rowen wasn't ready. She really wasn't . . . but she had to be.

"You said your mom's not home, right?" Steve asked as they rolled up the driveway.

"She shouldn't be," Dustin said, peering through the windshield. Rowen wasn't sure why Steve asked. Mrs. Henderson told her herself that she wouldn't be home till much later . . but when he turned to pull into Dustin's garage . . .

"Shit."

They all stared at the vehicle in front of them with different levels of nervousness.

Rowen looked down at her watch. 5:05 . . She turned around in her seat to look at Dustin. "I thought you said she would be gone all day?"

"I did. I thought she would be," he said, a little wide-eyed and hesitant. Dustin shrugged. "I guess she came back early."

"No shit, Sherlock." Rowen unbuckled her seatbelt.

Steve killed the engine and all three of them climbed out at once. Dustin was quick to race to the garage, putting himself in front of Rowen. The porch lights were on, and she could see the flicker of the television in the living room.

She crossed her arms, staring down at him. "You know you're mom's probably worried sick, right?"

"Hey, that's not my fault . ." Dustin jabbed a finger in her face. "You were the one that said we should bike to houses." He scowled, but he didn't seem as annoyed with her as he sounded. His expression softened when she raised her hands in surrender. Dustin looked behind him towards his house. "Okay, so . . I'll go inside and come up with some explanation for my mom. She likes you, so if she knows I was with you, she won't be that mad. You and Steve go down to the cellar and wait for me. The key for the lock is inside, so I need to go get it."

"Any other orders, Chief?" she joked, giving a mock two-finger salute.

"Yeah. Try not to claw his eyes out," he deadpanned, jutting his thumb towards Steve's back.

Rowen watched as he scurried off, sheepishly opening the door where his mother awaited. She could hear Mrs. Henderson's voice from where she stood.

"Dusty! Where on earth have you been?"

Rowen smiled.

The door shut and she moved from where she stood, trailed to the back of Steve's car. He had been lingering there, silent, fiddling with his keys as if there were a lot more than five on the chain and giving it his utmost attention was a necessity. Despite the fact that they had managed to sit in the same car, to let that fear and anticipation over facing Dart alone settle over them; to even get caught up in Dustin's ramblings . . . all of that, and he still returned to pretending as if she wasn't there.

She knew the last two times they spoke must have had something to do with it. Rowen had all but dismissed him and snapped in his face when he tried apologizing because he felt he was the one in the wrong . . . He kind of is, she thought. They both were . . . but had it been that bad?

Was he so pissed off at her for what she had said? For not wanting to hang out anymore? It wasn't as if she had blown him off, she had made a point to be nice about it . . . and yet. Sometimes being nice won't get you anywhere with some people.

Some people were just touchy. Dramatic. She knew that. Billy was like that. She was like that. She just didn't think Steve would be, even if she did snap at him the last time they saw each other.

She hated that it annoyed her this much, that it reminded her of the way Samantha tried coming off as if not seeing her for four days didn't affect her. Of the way her old friends acted like her moving away wasn't a big deal. She didn't want to dwell on it, didn't want to spiral into another mental frenzy . . . but it was irking her, and she wished so badly that he would just come right out and say it, whether it was true or not. She wished Samantha would have said it.

Rowen went unacknowledged the entire time until Steve finally landed on the key he needed. He unlocked the trunk, twisted the keys out, and stuffed them in his pocket without so much as looking in her direction. She didn't utter a word, as much as she wanted to. She didn't utter a word as he opened the trunk, as he searched through the things he left stranded inside . . and neither did he. But when he pulled out a bat with nails that looked like they had been hammered into the business end . . Rowen felt pulled to say a few choice words; or rather ask a few questions.

But still, she said nothing.

That didn't keep her mind from reeling in an entirely different direction, though. What kind of Demogorgon were they fighting last year to where they would need a spiked bat? How big did these things get? How big would Dart get?

Fighting a monster the size of a dog was one thing, fighting one the size of a bear . . .

It took her a moment to realize that the reason Steve was standing there, trunk wide open, was because he was waiting for her to grab the flashlight he left. She didn't hide her eye roll, took the tool with a dramatic swipe.

Against her apprehensiveness, Rowen decided to head down the path to the cellar. She didn't want to hover near him and wait for him to do or say something when it was clear he wasn't. The trunk slammed shut, but she didn't check to see whether Steve was following. She pointed the yellow beam towards a pair of red doors, held tight by rusted metal chains and a lock. There were no dents, no sign that Dart had attempted to escape. There was no noise, either. No shrieks that made a chill run up her spine . . . Maybe Dart decided to give up after being trapped for hours. Maybe he fell asleep . .

Without a word, Steve appeared to her left, his own flashlight in one hand and the bat in the other. He observed the cellar doors, held the bat in front of himself as if something might break the chains and jump out without warning . . She didn't blame him. Dart had screeched in her face without warning . . . but he hadn't charged after her, and it made her wonder. Would he come after them at all? He no longer had a meal to munch on, no longer had something to keep him occupied, keep him from coming after them . . .

It made her shiver.

Steve took a step forward, turned his ear towards the door. He stood back and stared at it. Rowen crossed her arms.

He shook his head. "I don't hear shit."

A door shut behind them. Rowen turned to see Dustin run their way, down the steps and into the mess of leaves and concrete to join them. Keys dangled in his hand.

"Got 'em," he said, holding up the piece of metal.

Steve shushed him. He stepped forward again hesitantly. The door was tapped by his bat first . . then hit with a WHAM! But there was no response, no slam in return to let them know Dart was in there.

"Still don't hear shit," Steve said.

"He's in there," Dustin muttered.

WHAM!

Steve whacked at the door for a third time, stared down at it for a few moments.

"Alright, listen. I swear if this is some sort of prank you two put together . ." he said, pointing his flashlight in Dustin's face. "You're dead."

"It's not —"

"Alright?"

"It's not a prank! Get that out of my face," said Dustin.

Steve still looked skeptical, but conceded, dragging the beam back to the door. "Okay," he muttered, glancing at Dustin. "Unlock this thing."

Dustin jumped into action, wiggling the key into the lock, dragging it off of the chain. Steve helped him unloop it from the handles, tossed it to the side. Rowen stood behind them, still wary of what they would encounter and keeping herself a good distance away. One at a time, the doors opened with a loud creak. None of them made a move to go down the stairs, but Steve kneeled at the entrance, casting the light onto the floor at the bottom.

Rowen took a few brave steps to stand behind him, peering over his head. She saw nothing; nothing but the concrete floor, devoid of any sign that Dart was ever there.

"He must be further down there," Dustin concluded. He didn't sound very sure of himself. "I'll stay up here in case he tries to . . escape."

Despite their earlier interactions, Rowen and Steve, at last, shared a look. Sure, if Dart charged up the stairs it would be best if he stayed up there. Standing right in his path.

Steve shook his head, remained still for a few moments . . but, once he stood to his feet, he began to tread carefully down the steps, bat held defensively in front of him.

Rowen knew there was a reason he went slowly. They had no idea what Dart would or could do. For all they knew, opening the cellar was a sneak-attack waiting to happen, and with nerves that felt ready to burst any second, a part of her wished Steve would go a little faster. Seconds felt like minutes with the amount of tension built up around them . . but they eventually passed, and Steve was gone from sight.

They waited . . A faint light clicked on below. There was no growling or inhuman gurgling, but somehow that only made Rowen more nervous.

"Steve?" Dustin tried.

She felt that dead silence begin to approach again, to crawl towards their feet and try to wrap itself around their ankles . . like vines. Like things that crept behind you.

"What's going on down there?" he called.

The dark was no longer dark. A light beamed upwards and flooded their vision with white, making both of them jump, squint.

"Shit," Rowen hissed, a hand placed over her chest. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute.

Steve stared up at them with a grave expression. "Get down here."

Rowen glared at him, Dustin cursed under his breath, but they both did as asked. With Steve acting as a reassurance that there was no other-dimensional creature ready to pounce, they trailed down the steps at a much quicker pace than he had. Dustin reached the bottom first.

"Aw shit," he muttered.

When Rowen came to his side, she scrunched her nose. There, on Steve's bat, was the same goo that had hung from the tank Dart once occupied; and with it . . was some kind of skin.

She cringed. "What is that?"

"Dart molted again," Dustin informed her.

That was when their attention shifted to the corner of the cellar. Steve pointed both bat and skin to a pile of bricks that had been broken and thrown to the floor, a large hole behind.

"No way . ." Rowen mumbled.

They scuttled towards it. Steve kneeled, Dustin leaned to peer inside. The tunnel that stretched from the hole was long and narrow, long enough for them to know that, if Dart was still in the tunnel he, at the very least, had dug a good ways away from them. If not, she didn't even want to begin to imagine where in the world he was. The thing could be anywhere as far as they knew . . he could be miles away. A state away . . Maybe he was back outside? Maybe he was still underground?

He wasn't there, and it did nothing to ease her nerves.

Rowen glanced back up the stairs. She heard nothing, saw nothing . . but the hairs on the back of her neck told her that silence didn't mean all was calm. Dart's intelligence was one amongst a list of things they did not know about these creatures. Steve and Dustin may have come face to face with a Demogorgon before, but they still knew very little of what they were capable of.

She raced back up the stairs.

"Rowen?"

Rowen came to a halt at the entrance of the cellar, looking left . . looking right . . spinning on her heel to peer into the growing darkness with her flashlight. The sun was fully set now, and the thought of Dart being somewhere amidst the darkness made her heart begin to pace again. Dart couldn't always screech and growl, she knew he couldn't. He could be quiet . . sneaky; and he could just as easily be miles away as he could be a few feet away . . . a few feet away from her house.

Max.

"Rowen?" Dustin had followed her up, concern written all over his features. "What's wrong?"

Soon Steve stepped out of the cellar, too.

"I need to get back to my house," she said. "Max — I need to . . she's home alone and Dart could be anywhere. I need to go."

She gave him no time to answer, began to look for her bike. Rowen looked in the garage, peered behind Steve's car, pointed her flashlight down at the grass. It wasn't there . . . That was when she realized.

She cursed under her breath, throwing her flashlight to the ground. "Dustin, we left our bikes at the Wheeler's."

"Shit, my mom's gonna kill me . ."

"Don't worry, short stuff. I can get it for you."

They both turned towards Steve.

"Are you sure?" asked Dustin.

"Yeah. I'll just swing by and stuff it in my trunk," Steve shrugged, clicking his flashlight off.

"What about Rowen's?"

He shrugged again. "I can strap hers on the roof."

Dustin grinned, nodded his head, and accepted the offer with a, "Thanks, Steve."

Rowen, however, was not up for showing gratitude. Somehow, after all of that, after opening the cellar, realizing Dart was gone, realizing he could be anywhere and that anywhere could just as easily be mere feet from her house and Max . . After all that, it only made her ire worse. Her worry and anxiety faded, were trumped by that feeling . . that sudden anger towards him, even if she was in the wrong just as much as him.

She didn't feel grateful. She felt spiteful.

"You sure you can survive being in the same car as me for that long?"

The look on his face was satisfying if anything. Steve pressed his lips in a thin line and he turned his gaze away from the both of them as if he was holding back something, as if he was like Billy the day before, clenching his jaw and claiming innocence; good reasons. There was no good reason for the way Steve was acting, as far as she was concerned.

"I did it twenty minutes ago."

He was looking at her now; really looking, whatever semblance of ire or irritation that made him sideglance and look at anything else before gone. Somehow it wasn't so crucial anymore and, if she hadn't known what was going on, she would have assumed what had happened between them didn't matter to him anymore. But it did. She could see it did; it just wasn't as important now.

It made her laugh . . . though it hadn't been the amused, light-hearted kind that she shared with him when Samantha regaled her break-up history. No, this was not like then. This was not light. It was ridiculous, and she was laughing at the pettiness of it all. She reminded herself of those mechanical, sinister laughs of Billy's when someone was in trouble . . when someone got caught, and he had nothing to spare for them but that mean, awful sound.

She felt that way towards Steve at that moment, giving him a smile that was anything but sweet. "So now you're acknowledging me, hm? After all that?"

Breathing out a grumble, Steve let the spiked end of his bat hit the ground. "Listen, you said it yourself, this thing could be anywhere. So, it's probably best that I just drive you home."

She raised her brow. "It is, huh?"

Throughout the entire interaction, Dustin had been standing stock-still between them, looking from one, to the other, to the other. He didn't know how to be anything but bewildered at that moment. Rowen was one thing; a bundle of emotions bottled up so tight and hidden so well that he hadn't realized just how intense she could get until Dart decided to screech in her face. She was Max's sister . . if Max was sassy, Rowen had to at least be on the same level. He had been waiting for her to unload it all right then and there . .

But Steve? . . Mutual knowledge of the Upside Down aside, he barely knew Steve. He didn't know what the hell was going on in that jock-brain of his, barely looking at Rowen until that moment. He didn't know what was going on in Rowen's brain either . . but that hadn't been what left him confused and uncomfortable. What left him that way was the fact that neither of them would cut it out. They had bigger problems right now.

He dared to clear his throat. "Okay, uh . . anyways . . Since my mom's home, we can't look for Dart tonight," he said. "But we should meet back here first thing in the morning."

"To do what, exactly?" Rowen asked.

"To find the thing, what else?"

"No shit, Stevie," she bit. "I mean why are we meeting here, hm? It's not like Dart's gonna come back after Dustin bodyslammed him into the cellar. He's got to have some intelligence."

"He did dig his way out . ." Dustin thought aloud, adding to her point. "If he wanted to escape that badly, then Rowen's right. He probably won't come back."

"Well, then we should be looking for it right now, shouldn't we?" Steve insisted. "I mean, c'mon, if we wait till tomorrow it could be miles away, and then what do we do?"

"Well, we can't go running after it all night," Rowen said.

"You can't maybe," he retorted.

"Listen," Dustin interrupted as Rowen began to open her mouth again. He turned to Steve. "I get that you want to find him as soon as possible, Steve, but, in case it hasn't occurred to you, I can't go anywhere right now . ." he paused, gesturing towards his back door. ". . and Rowen needs to go home. If you want to look for him yourself, I won't stop you, but you'd be wasting your time. Not to mention you'd be a grade A idiot."

It was clear Steve was trying not to glare at him.

"All we can do right now is figure out what to do," Dustin added. "How we can trap him, where he'd go . ."

"Where would it go?" Steve asked.

"Not another cellar . ." Dustin muttered, seemingly lost in his thoughts. "When I found him first, he was in my trash . . and, when I put him in my turtle tank, he was hungry, so I gave him some food. He stayed there until he got too big and broke out, and that's when I found him in the corner with — . . well, you know . ." Dustin paused in his recounting to sniff, rub his nose. "When I trapped him in the cellar, I used baloney, so it's obvious he can be baited with food."

"It is?" she asked. She was ignored.

Steve shrugged. "So we just bait him again, right?"

"Right, but . . the question is where."

"Uh, hello . ." Rowen spoke up, waving her hands. "Don't get me wrong, baiting him is a good idea, but even if we do that, how are we going to keep him locked up? He already clawed his way through bricks. What are we supposed to trap him with?"

"Well, if you had let us get to that, you would've known that there is no way to trap it. We're gonna have to kill it."

She didn't retort, scoffed instead. "I don't have time for this . ."

"Then go," Steve told her. If anything, he sounded like he was insisting. "I don't have to take you, you know. Ask Mrs. Henderson to give you a ride if you want to leave so bad. We can come up with a plan by ourselves."

Despite the truth of Steve's words, Rowen couldn't help but focus on the way they were bit out. She was reminded way too much of a certain person at that moment and threw a bemused look at him.

"Okay," she began with a laugh, devoid of any humor. "I get that we're in a pretty serious situation right now, and things could go to shit real fast, but that's no excuse to be an ass, alright?"

He said nothing.

"Unlike you, Steve, I've never dealt with something like this before, and I'm a little worried about Max being home alone right now. So, if you want to spend all your time wandering through the woods like monster bait, by all means, go do it. I, on the other hand, need to go home. I'm not waiting around for you to get in a good mood."

Rowen turned on her heel and headed to the Hendersons' back door without another word.

Dustin watched her, glancing from her back, to Steve, to her as she disappeared inside, to Steve again. His attempt to form words wasn't going very well, lasted for a few moments as his mouth hung open.

"Uh . . Listen," he eventually got out, addressing Steve. "Like I said, if you want to go look for Dart, I won't stop you. Just . ."

"Don't turn into monster bait?" Steve guessed. Dustin didn't miss the way his words came out a little bitter.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, don't be monster bait . ."

A moment passed before Steve sighed, shook his head at the back door Rowen had disappeared through. "I wasn't gonna do it, you know. I'm not — I'm not gonna wander through the woods. After what happened last year, it's . . it's stupid."

"You don't say?" Dustin's words were sarcastic, but if the humorous tone and look on his face told Steve anything, it was that he was relieved. He didn't need Dustin to say it to know that he agreed with Rowen.

Steve began to shuffle on his feet, swinging his bat for no particular reason. He took a page out of Dustin's book and looked from him to the tree line, to the back door, to Dustin again. "Do — do you think I should apologize?" he tried, not sure as to why he was asking.

Dustin seemed a little alarmed that he would even pose the question to him, raised his brow. "Uh . . what you think you should do is your business, I think," he said, stealing a look at the back door. "I don't know women. I don't even know girls."

Steve threw him a side glance as if to tell him that wasn't helpful, but said nothing against it. "Listen," he eventually muttered, swinging the bat over his shoulder. "I'll meet you back here in the morning, okay?"

Dustin nodded. "Okay."

"Go get some sleep," Steve said, pointing a finger at him, then at the house. "Make sure she doesn't walk back home like an idiot."

Dustin squinted, shook his head a little. "I don't think she was going to."

"Still," Steve said, grave enough for the kid to catch on — as if he hadn't already. Dustin nodded again and turned to trudge back inside, back into a house where he would have to explain why there was no longer a cat in it. Only when the door was shut did Steve turn his back to it, pull out the key to his car and unlock it. He sighed, muttered the rest of his sentence to himself, "That's one less thing I need to worry about."

. . .