Steve's POV

I send Soda out in the truck. I feel a bit guilty watching him getting wet as he runs out there and yanks the cab door open.

He was already pretty damp from manning the pumps.

I figure I owe him one and go back to my list of jobs keeping an eye on the forecourt. - and for the truck as Curley is gonna be a nightmare.

The jobs aren't difficult, but soda's handwriting really is. There are a few cars I have to leave because I reactant work out what heswritten. Mostly they're tuff cars with soccy or middle class owners. Guys on our side of town take shop class and can do their own bumpers, old changes, headlights and engine tune ups. But it's easy work and these are people who keep our reputation good and have the money to bring their car in for something minor.

I see the next job on the list is brakepads and it cheers me up a bit. Something a bit more involved.

I'm collecting the tools and parts for the job when I see a car pull in, I run upfront to do the gas, but it's a furious Curley I meet as soon as I exit the door.

"Where's soda?" I ask. I hope he hasn't been caught out by the weather.

Curley replied that he'd towed the other car. He emphasised this in such a way that it was obvious he thought this was disrespectful.

I listen to him spitting fury and walk around the car.

We have that bumper in- or i can probably hammer is back into shape and a tail light is an easy fit.

I offer my options and his buddy says to do whatever is cheapest.

I.let them use the phone to call a ride and say they can collect it tomorrow. We do a deal. I give them a "useless soda" discount and they go away.

I drive the car round to start on next.

I do the light and take the bumper off. I reshape and refit it.

I call Tim's number to say its done and Angela takes a message. She says Soda should have more respect. I just hum what I hope sounds like agreement and hang up.

I look at the time. Soda has been gone for hours. I absent mindely wonder if he's got lost or run out of gas or something.

Running out of gas would be ironic, but checking before driving out isn't one of his strong suites.

I finish the brake pads and the other two cars on the list.

I puzzle over soda's handwriting a little more and look up at the clock. It's almost 7.

I push the worry away. He'll turn up and have 6 girls numbers or something.

I got out to the shop and lean on the counter. There aren't many cars about and noone wants gas.

I consider calling Darry to see if soda called home. Maybe he rang here when I was on the phone and couldn't get through?

I decide to wait. We close at 9 anyway. If he's not here by then I'll stop by. No sense to Darry being worried too.

I flick through a car magazine breaking only to fill up a cop car. They don't tip well.

I'm back at my magazine when I hear a familiar engine. I see the truck pull up with a wreck on the back. I watch Soda unload in the sideways rain and wait for him to come in.

He looks at me and before I can tell him how much of a pain in my ass he is, and that he's caused me grief he asks me:

" Steve, you ever think about going to college?"

He looks pretty intense. Serious. But I'm caught off guard.

I snort, my voice dripping with sarcasm

"Yeah, because you can do a college diploma in shop. And I'm sure I have a rich aunt somewhere just dying to pay for me to go.."

He looks slightly wild. I wonder if I should tell him to sit down, but a car pulls up at the pumps and he turns on his heel to run out and fill it.

When he comes back in he doesn't pursue the conversation and neither do I. We goof off and read the magazine until its time to close. He's jovial and cheery again- back to himself.

I drop him off and watch him run in from the rain. I curse myself- I know Darry had a half day down so I was going to offer Soda my Friday night to make the money up. I also ment to ask him about his list.

Oh well he could finish those cars in the morning and we could look at the wreck tomorrow afternoon. It could all wait. Tomorrow always comes.

I shrugged and drove off.