I was awake early the next morning, and I didn't know why. I think that for some reason, I was more worried about Steve than I was willing to admit even to myself. I was also kind of worried about how my brothers would react to my inviting him to stay with us. I didn't know that this was about to become the least of my worries.

I had showered, dressed, and was in the kitchen, whipping up some instant batter for chocolate cake, when there was a knock at the front door. I waited a second to see if Steve would wake up and answer it, but then I heard the knock again a few minutes later. I sighed, wiped my hands on my jeans, and went out to see who it was. I glanced at Steve as I passed the couch and drew my breath in sharply. His black eye had developed nicely over the course of the night. I couldn't imagine how he could sleep through that pain, but I guess he's felt worse. Then I looked out the door and saw his mom. I wondered if he were about to feel a lot worse. Glancing behind me at his sleeping form on the couch, I motioned for her to wait and I slipped out the door quietly so as not to wake him. I wanted to see why she was here first.

She looked worse than I'd ever seen her, and I felt a pang of sympathy. She's never been all that great to Steve either, but anyone is better than his dad, I guess. I motioned for her to take one of the seats on the porch, and I perched on the railing.

"Steve's sleeping on the couch," I said as politely as I could manage. "Is everything ok, Mrs. Randle?"

She shook her head, and I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was going to be bad. I've gotten this sense of when to expect the worst (from some pretty bad experiences), and I suddenly knew this was going to be one of those times.

"Do… do you want me to wake up Steve?"

"Too late." We both flipped around to look at the door. Steve was standing just inside the screen scowling, but I could also see the fear in his eyes. He looked straight at me, and I could read immediately what he was telling me: stay. He stepped outside, and I looked down at my feet. I tried not to look up as I heard his mom say what I somehow expected now. His father had gone for a drive after he'd kicked Steve out. There'd been an accident. He hadn't made it.

Her voice shook as she spoke, but Steve was standing completely still, and he registered absolutely no reaction that she seemed able to discern. But even though I was staring at my feet, I could feel the tension and misery radiating off him and wondered how long he'd be able to hold onto his shell. She finally finished talking, and abruptly, Steve turned and went back into the house. As Mrs. Randle and I stood looking at each other, mystified, he suddenly returned with his jacket. He glanced at me and said, "I'll talk to you later."

I nodded and then watched in amazement as he left with his mother. This was the last thing I'd expected. I sighed and went in to wake Darry and Pony. This was something they definitely needed to know.