Thanks for sticking with me and for all the support. I hope that you enjoy chapter 7.

Jem

Why is it that quiet days at work always feel longer than busy days?

I was leaning up against the counter with my head perched on one hand, the other tapping an inexplicable rhythm on the vinyl.

Steve had been in the garage for the better part of the day, fighting with an engine that he said was almost more work than it was worth. Still he was as stubborn as they come, so if the owner wanted it fixed he'd damn well figure it out then.

It had been over thirty minutes since the last fill up and one thing I'd noticed over this past month was that I didn't do well with time.

A month. It had been a whole month since child services had swooped in and torn apart what was left of my family. I'll admit that things had gotten marginally better after that first week of radio silence. We were able to see Ponyboy every Saturday or Sunday and he would call us one to two times a week. Two weeks ago, he had even stayed the night to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. We'd had chocolate cake and had gone to the strip, even Darry had decided to join us. That night when I had curled up in my bed with my arm slung over Ponyboy's side I slept the best I had in weeks.

Darry had been working himself ragged trying to find another job that would pay enough. We were still struggling to pay the bills, putting in any extra hours that we could. The only bright side was all this overtime kept me away from our empty house.

Glory, I hated the quiet! It was when it was quiet like this that I couldn't stop myself from wondering if we'd ever get Ponyboy back?

That thought always made my stomach churn and I scrubbed my hands over my face to rid that awful idea from my brain.

Huffing in frustration, I pushed myself off of the counter and stalked into the garage.

I could see Steve's feet sticking out from under a Chevy. I grinned as I gave them a swift kick and chuckled as he yelped.

"Jesus Christ Soda! Give me a heart attack, why don't yah." Steve snapped as he crawled out from under the truck, there was a sizable smear of grease across his forehead. "I'm gonna make you wear a bell one of these days."

I laughed and threw him a rag, pointing to my forehead. "What are you rolling in the stuff now?"

He caught the rag with one hand and grunted as he tried without success to rid his face of the grease. "This hunk of junk should be put out to pasture. There's almost more wrong with it than right." He grumbled, knocking on the side panel.

I moved over and peered at the engine. "You can't fix it?"

Steve smirked, "Never said that. It's just gonna cost the guy almost more than it's worth."

I let a small laugh escape and leaned back against the upright tool box. Steve mirrored me against the Chevy and watched me as he methodically wiped his hands with the rag. His steady gaze made me uneasy and I picked up a wrench and twirled it between my fingers. I kept my eyes fixed on the tool, the light bouncing off shiny metal as it spun.

Steve had been my best friend since we used to play in the sandbox. No one knew me better than he did, except for my brothers. I glanced up to see that he was still watching me though now his eyebrow was crooked in question. I quickly looked back at the wrench, tapping it against the tool box at my side.

Steve exhaled harshly and shook his head, "Alright, what's going on man?"

"Nothing," I mumbled.

"Soda."

"It's nothing, really." I pushed off the toolbox and faked swinging the wrench at his knees. Steve swatted my hand away and glowered. "It's just too quiet in there….. It's like at home...it's just too quiet…."

He nodded and stepped forward to grip my shoulder. "I need some help with this hunk of junk. Prop the door open and we'll hear anyone who drives up."

We fell into a silence that was comforting in it's familiarity and once my hands were moving everything else faded into the background.

The ding of the pump bell pulled me from my concentration and I grabbed a rag as I jogged out the garage door to meet the car.

It was a black Cadillac but thankfully it wasn't driven by Socs. I didn't think I had the patience to deal with them right now.

I smiled at the woman who stuck her head out of the window. She was around my parent's age and she had blond hair that curled just like my mom's used to. A lump jumped to my throat at the memory but I swallowed it and forced a smile.

"Good afternoon Ma'am. Fill her up?"

"Yes, please."

I moved through the motions, after working here so long there wasn't much I needed to think about. My hands knew what was needed. I glanced back over at the woman in the car. What would my mom say if she was here now? I mean obviously if she was here then Ponyboy would be too, but what would she think about all of this? Would she blame me?

My eyes grew hot and I squeezed the nozzle tightly until my knuckles were white.

That's what it all boiled down to. This whole mess was my fault. Pony was gone because I'd wanted to blow off some steam with Steve, because I picked the wrong bar on the wrong night to hustle some poker. It made my skin crawl.

The lady paid me and I jogged inside to get the change. I gave my head a quick shake. I was gonna go crazy if I kept thinking about this. I slammed my fist onto the counter getting some satisfaction at the shock wave that it sent up my arm. That damned hippie cowboy was to blame. He's the one who fired Darry over a lousy poker game. If I ever got my hands on him….

Anger bubbled like molten metal in my gut and I smiled grimly. Anger, I could deal with. Being angry was easier than missing Ponyboy. That pang could bring me to my knees in a heartbeat.

I breathed deeply as I made my way back to the Cadillac, there was no reason to rip off this nice lady's head because my life was imploding. She fired up her car as I sauntered up to the window. I paused and listened for a moment.

"Here you go, Ma'am." I said, passing her the change. She passed me back a couple of dollars and I nodded my head in thanks. I put my hand out as she started to turn away. "Excuse me, but how long has your car been making that knocking noise?"

She blinked at me in surprise. "Ugh...a few weeks I think. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I know a thing or two about cars and that sound means there's something wrong with yours."

"Oh," she frowned and brought her hand up to her mouth. "Do you think it's a big problem?"

"Well, so far it seems to be running alright, but it could up and leave you stranded one day. It's hard to tell without taking a look at it."

Her eyes moved to take in the garage behind me and dropped down to my grease covered fingers. "Do you think you could take a look? Give me an estimate?"

"Sure thing," I nodded, and I turned and jogged to the garage door. A movement caught my eye around the side of the building and I paused for a moment. A greaser about Darry's age was leaning up against the wall of the DX, his hands were deep in his pockets. He was standing behind the dumpster and was almost completely hidden except if I was standing at exactly this angle. He glanced over my way and I wondered if he was one of the Brumly boys? He wasn't part of Tim Shepherd's gang as far as I knew. I shrugged it off, there was no harm in anyone hanging out after all.

"Hey Steve," I stuck my head into the garage and I was awarded with a grunt in response. "I got a Caddy here that's making a knocking noise. I'm thinking it might be the belt. The lady'd like us to take a look."

Steve crawled out from under the Chevy. "Alright, I need a break from this piece of garbage before I decide to set it on fire." I laughed and we both made our way out to the pumps. Together, we were able to get the Cadillac into the bay and it didn't take long before we were able to give her an estimate. Thankfully it didn't need a big fix and we could actually get it fixed that day.

She smiled as I told her the news. "I'd like to give my husband a call before I give you the go ahead. He's a contractor so he doesn't know a thing about cars but I'd still like to hear his opinion." She studied me warily, as if she was worried that we'd be offended and I laughed lightly.

"Of course," I grinned to put her at ease. "The pay phones around the side of the building."

She went to make her call and I went back out to the pumps to help a customer. My mind started to drift again now that the most recent distraction was over. It was after four so Pony must be home from school by now. I gritted my teeth and glowered. Not home. He should be back at the Donovans' house by now. How could I even think of that place as his home for even a moment? A loud metal clank rang through the air as I put the nozzle back with more force than necessary.

"Hey Soda," Steve called from the garage door.

I grumbled and turned back to the garage. Again movement around the side of the building caught my eye as I moved towards the building. The greaser was still there but he was now cornering the lady with an open switchblade pointed at her. I could only see half of her from this angle. She was huddled away from him pressing her back against the brick wall, clutching her purse to her chest. He took a step towards her and she cowered.

"Hey!" I shouted. The greaser jumped a foot in surprise. He shot a look over his shoulder at me. He whipped back around and snatched the lady's purse before taking off down the street. Her shriek echoed through the air.

Before I could even think about what I was doing, I took off after him. The world tunneled as I pushed my muscles after the greaser, my anger from before fueling my chase. My heart pounding in my chest, my blood rushing in my ears.

I was gaining on him. He glanced over his shoulder at me and he stumbled. It was all that I needed to reach him. I threw myself on him in a tackle that would have made Darry proud. Before he could react I slammed my fist into his face, his head snapping back with the force.

He tried to kick me off of him but I just sent another one into his side this time. My red hot rage smirked as he yelped out in pain. I pulled my fist back for another.

"Soda!"

Steve's call was enough to make me freeze. He was running towards us brandishing a lug wrench. I grasped the purse and yanked it out of the greaser's hand.

"Get out of here!" I growled and he didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled up and took off down the street.

I sat back and rubbed a hand down my face. My breath was rushing in and out of my lungs with a mind of its own. I blew out harshly. I wasn't even sure of why I was so mad, but I had to get a hold of myself fast before Steve noticed. If he got worried, the first person he'd tell would be Darry and he had enough worries already without me picking fights. Shoot though, I couldn't have just let that hood steal from the nice lady. That wasn't the man that my father raised and I think Darry would understand that at least.

Steve came to a stop by my side. "You okay, Soda?" He hooked my arm and pulled me to my feet, peering at me with alarm.

I batted his hands away. "I'm fine, just a little out of breath." I crouched forward to rest my hands on my knees, slowing my breathing and feeling the anger melt from my muscles like ice under the warm sun.

He nodded slowly. "You fixing on beating Pony out of his spot as the track star of the family?"

My heart no longer felt like it was trying to break out of my chest and the heat was leaking out of my muscles. "Shoot, that ain't gonna happen if I get winded running one block." I smiled at him, feeling like myself again and I punched him in the shoulder. "Thanks for the backup man. Were you planning on changing his tires?" I eyed the lug wrench with a grin.

Steve rolled his eyes at me. 'If this is the thanks I get, you're on your own next time you decide to play hero."

I grinned at him. "Hey, I ain't planning on a repeat performance. That's more Darry's style." I draped my arm over his shoulder.

He shoved me off with a laugh. "We better get back before Two-Bit comes and decides to rob the place." He started to jog back towards the DX and I followed on his heels. "She'd better tip us good for this."

I pulled up short. 'I never thought of that. You really think she'll tip us?"

"Of course, people always want to repay their savior." He turned to me and rolled his eyes the surprised look on my face. "Glory, all of you Curtis' have a hero complex if you ask me. First Ponyboy's running into burning buildings, now you're taking on muggers." Steve snapped with more heat then I think even he expected. My face fell at the mention of my brother and the trouble that had found him and Johnny last year. Steve froze at my expression, probably remembering the consequences of Ponyboy and Johnny's heroics. He hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. He kicked a stone on the pavement and studied it intently. "Sorry." He mumbled.

I nudged him in the ribs, causing him to give a yelp of surprise. Steve shot me a glare and I laughed as I took off towards the DX. Just like that, he knew that all was forgiven and he fell into step beside me.

The lady was pacing in front of the pumps, her cheeks glistening with a steady stream of tears as we made it back. Her lips quirked up when she turned and saw us returning with her purse in hand.

"Oh my goodness! Thank you boys," she beamed as I placed her possession into her hands, though the tears kept falling silently down her face.

Steve eyed her warily. "Are you alright ma'am?"

She brought her hand up to wipe her face and gave an embarrassed smile. "Oh yes, I'm fine. He just gave me quite a fright when he pulled that knife on me."

Steve and I exchanged a look, unsure about what we were supposed to do now that the purse had been returned to its owner. Neither of us were experts in what to do with a crying woman.

"I called my husband after you followed that thief. He should be here soon." She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and cleaned the rest of the tears from her face. "Would it be alright if I waited for him here?"

Steve and I both assured her that it was fine and then after a few moments of standing there in uncomfortable silence Steve made his way into the garage, I went to the counter and she began to walk up and down the aisles of the store as if she was browsing.

I rested my elbows in the vinyl and ran my hands down my face. Now that the adrenaline was gone, I was starting to shake. I had scared myself there. Sure, I liked a good fight and it wasn't completely out of the ordinary for me to act without thinking something through. Still, I'd let my anger at that hippie cowboy fuel me and I'm not sure if I'd have stopped hitting that guy if Steve hadn't followed me.

I crossed my arms on the counter and laid my forehead against them.

I didn't want to be that guy, to become like one of Tim's gang who were itching for a fight because they wanted to hurt others. Sure, Steve and I liked the action of a good fight. Hell, Two-Bit and Darry were usually game for one too. Ponyboy was really the only one left in our gang who didn't like fighting. He'd once told me somethin' about fighting not changing anything. What would he think of me now?

Come on, Soda. Don't be so hard on yourself. You just stopped a mugging. That's pretty tuff.

I smiled into my arms as his imagined voice rang in my ears. Even imaginary, Ponyboy helped me feel better about myself. He always saw more in me then I thought was there.

The DX's door clattered open and I looked up to see a tall skinny man rush towards the lady. Steve entered from the garage and cocked his brow at the white truck with Canfield Construction painted on the side parked haphazardly outside. He must have been listening for the husband to pull up.

"Wendy!" The man yelled as he pulled her into his arms. "Are you okay?"

Wendy pushed him back gently and hushed him. "I'm fine, darling. These boys stopped the thief and got my purse back."

He checked her over, his hands running up and down her arms. "You said he threatened you with a knife."

She nodded and her eyes became bright with tears again. Her husband growled under his breath, but his eyes remained soft as he looked down at his wife.

She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief and patted his chest. "Stop your worrying, I told you I was fine..." Wendy pulled in a deep breath then smiled, "thanks to these fine young men."

The salt and peppered man looked over at me and studied me through his wire framed glasses.

"I'm Charlie Canfield," he said as he reached out to give me a firm handshake.

"Sodapop Curtis and this is Steve Randle." Steve who had just stepped up beside me, returned the handshake and gave a tilt of his head. Charlie exchanged a confused glance with Wendy but thankfully neither of them commented on my name.

"Well boys, I can't thank you enough for helping my wife." Charlie said warmly. "Is there anything I can do to repay your kindness?" He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

A bit of cash would help cover the bills this month but it was only a bandaid solution for our problems. Still, I'd take anything I could get. Darry would appreciate the extra funds. I looked towards Steve to try to judge his thoughts on the matter.

Steve's brows furrowed in concentration and I watched his gaze drift towards the window. His eyes widened and his lips pulled into a smile.

"I think I have an idea." He breathed and looked pointedly outside. I furrowed my forehead in confusion. My gaze followed his and I couldn't help the laugh that fell from my mouth.

Maybe things were starting to go right for us, just this once?