Working is more miserable than I thought it was going to be. There seems to be a never ending line of people that want something from the snack bar. I quickly learn that people don't just come here to bowl, at least half the people that come, come for food and drinks and just hangout.

What makes it worse is that Darry insisted that I wear a nice dress to make a good impression on my first day. And since I outgrew all of my church dresses with my last growth spurt, he came up with one of Mom's dresses that had a high collar. I wanted to cry when he brought it out. It was so ugly. Not to mention hot and itchy.

I'm actually still surprised that Darry let me take the job in the first place. At first he kicked up a fuss about it, but Sodapop, who was already his favorite again reasoned that they both had jobs when they were my age. Darry grudgingly agreed that I could work at the bowling alley, but one of his conditions was that I couldn't take the bus or walk home alone after dark and someone would pick me up.

I'm half wishing he didn't let me take the job when a big group comes in and heads right to the counter. Forcing a smile, I begin to take orders. My feet and back ache from standing so long and I can't help but wonder why I wanted a job so bad.

At the end of my shift I take off the apron I'm required to wear and hang it up. All I want is to go home and soak my feet, cover them in lotion, then crawl into bed and sleep.

"Good job today, Cassie," My boss, whose name I learned is Rick says.

I smile and thank him and turn to head towards the door.

"And Cassie," he says, stopping me.

"Yes?"

"We're pretty casual around here, you don't have to dress up, you know?"

I flush. I have the distinct feeling that he's trying not to laugh at me. "Okay, thanks," I say and walk quickly to the door.

xXx

A few days later a thunderstorm moves in, leaving Darry home from work. I know he's agitated about having to miss work because it means missing a day of pay, but I think he needed a day off and it looks like mother nature thought he needed a day off too.

I have the crossword puzzle from the newspaper that Darry's reading spread out on the coffee table in front of me.

"Greek letter, four letters," I read out loud, chewing on the end of my pen.

"Beta?" Darry suggests and I quickly scribble it down.

"Thanks," I mutter.

I move onto the next one. Nonflying bird. Three letters. The only ones I can think of are penguins and chickens. Those are to long though. I rack my brain, trying to think of another nonflying bird.

Ponyboy comes into the living room and positions himself in front of the tv, turning it on. The storm made it staticky, but soon I hear the familiar opening notes to The Guiding Light. It was Mom's favorite soap opera.

He goes to turn the channel but I tell him to leave it. He shoots me a look, but doesn't turn the station. I know he's mad at me. He hasn't said anything, but he keeps looking at me with those judgy little eyes. He thinks I owe Curly an apology, which I do, but I've never been good at saying sorry. I made a deal with myself that if he showed up then I would apologize. Deep down though I knew he wasn't going to show up.

Despite Darry's groan of protest of watching the show, I feel myself getting sucked into it. I was familiar with most of the characters from when Mom would have it on. I know the writing and acting is a little corny, but still, I find myself sitting on the edge of the couch in anticipation for the next scene. Biting down on my nails as two of the characters have a very public breakup, the actress on tv has tears streaming down her face and when she smacks the actor I gasp.

"He's definitely cheated." Darry's voice startles me and I glance at him, realizing that he has gotten just as engrossed in the show that I did.

I want to laugh and glance at Ponyboy to see if he notices that Darry's watching the soap opera, but I realize that Ponyboy is also watching the show with the same deep look that's on Darry's face.

"Yeah," Pony agrees. "No other reason she'd be that mad."

I cover up my laughter with a fake coughing fit, which seems to break Darry and Ponyboy out of their trance.

"Stupid show," Darry mutters, rising from the chair.

xXx

I check the clock and realize that Sodapop should be getting home from work soon. I can't help but worry about him driving home in this storm. Sheets of rain fall outside, making it hard to see. Lighting illuminates the sky, and thunder roars in the distance.

I go stand by the front door, relishing in the coolness of the air. Relief floods through me when I see the truck pulling into the driveway. Sodapop, with his DX cap pulled low, comes sprinting towards the porch. I push open the screen door so he can run right in, out of the rain.

He gallops up the stairs but the rain must have made them slick because when he's almost to the top step, he loses his footing, throwing him off balance. I watch in horror as he starts to fall back, one hand is out towards him even though I know I'm too far way. He reaches out blindly and his fingers enclose around the railing, and he's able to steady himself.

We stare at each other, my heart still beating like crazy and he comes the rest of the way up the stairs, dripping wet.

"That was a close one," He says with a crazy grin, sliding past me.

"Yeah," I murmur back, knowing that if it weren't for the railing that Curly fixed, Sodapop would have fallen, and with our family luck, probably cracking his skull open on the cement.

There's a clap of thunder so loud that it makes me jump and I know that Mom has found a way to scold me even in her death.

xXx

I promised myself that I would never go back to the Shepard house. Even when I was with Tim I refused to go there. I know that Mr. Shepard was serving time in California, but I was afraid his spirit would always linger there. Mrs. Shepard with her cold eyes, Angela with her sad and suspicious ones, even years later I didn't want to face it.

Until now. I walked by the house three times before getting up the courage and walking up to the front door and knocking loudly. I panic again when I realize that Tim could be the one that comes to the door. I about decide to run when the door opens and there stands Curly, his hair is damp and washed clean of any oil, his curls free for once.

His eyes narrow and turn accusing when he sees me. "Tim's not home."

I flinch at his clipped words. I guess I deserved that.

Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin. "I'm here to see you actually."

He seems to be deliberating and I half expect him to shut the door in my face, but he reaches forward and pushes open the screen door for me and I realize he's inviting me in. Something I have never done to him.

I follow him inside the house slowly. I can't help but look around at the house I was forbidden to ever step foot in. The carpet seems kind of run down and the couch is obviously old, but the house is relatively clean.

I can feel Curly staring at me and I pretend to pick lit off my blouse.

"I'm sorry," I mumble pathetically, cowardly avoiding his gaze.

He doesn't reply and I can still feel his eyes on.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my head and meet his gaze. "I'm sorry," I say again. "What I said to you the other day was mean."

"It was," he agrees.

I glance away from him. "I just want to know that I'm not that person, a cruel person…and I know it didn't seem like it that day because I was being cruel but I'm not…. I don't want to be that person." I notice that I'm rambling and can't seem to force myself to stop talking. "I was kind of having a bad day and I guess I took it out on you." I bring my eyes back to his. "Not that that's any excuse." I add quickly.

"So…" he walks further into the house and I trail after him. He stops in the kitchen, where he nods to one of the chairs at the kitchen table and I sit down. "You came all the way over here to say you're sorry?"

"That's right." I bob my head up and down.

"And…" He opens the ice box and pulls out a bottle of soda. Popping off the top he sets it in front of me. "To tell me that you weren't yourself that day?"

"Yes, exactly." I take a sip of the soda, not because I'm particularly thirsty but because it seems like the polite thing to do.

"Why?" he questions, sitting down across from me, head cocked to the side.

"Why did I want to say sorry?" I ask, confused.

He nods.

I twirl the bottle around in my hands. "You were being nice and I wasn't very nice back." I shrug.

An awkward silence falls between us and I stare at the ceiling, while he studies the floor, his fingers drumming against the table.

"I forgive you."

"You forgive me?" I repeat back to him slowly.

His lips quirk up into a small smile. "Yeah, isn't that why people usually apologize? For forgiveness."

"Yes, but just like that?"

"Just like that."

I search his face for any hint of insincerity, but find none. As someone that still held grudges against Ponyboy for things he did when we were kids, I couldn't comprehend such easy forgiveness. Especially since I said such awful things to him, unprovoked.

"It's never been that easy for me." I avert my gaze. "You know forgiveness?" I couldn't help but notice how different he looks than Tim with his hair not slicked back, the way I've always seen it. I also can't help but notice that he looks similar to one of the characters on the soap I watched yesterday.

Curly is kind of striking, with his dark curls, blue eyes and long lashes. Looks in my opinion that are completely wasted on a boy. If I had his lashes I would never need to buy mascara again.

"Did you bury a body?" he askes and I stare at him stupidly.

He gestures to my hands, which are stained with dirt.

"Oh!" I laugh. "I'm trying to get my moms garden back into shape…it's harder than I thought it'd be."

"If you need help…"

I start to automatically shake my head, but stop myself. I don't have the muscles to pull out the weeds from the ground and without help it will take my all summer to get done.

He must sense my hesitancy because he goes on. "Listen, Cassie, I'm going to be honest with you, if I'm not doing something…" he seems to be searching for his words. "Constructive, I get bored and when I'm bored, I do something stupid shit."

"Like blowing up a gas station bathroom with a cherry bomb?" I smile, remembering what he was sent to the reformatory for last time.

"Yeah, like that." He doesn't seem to be too fond of the memory. "And I have this new social worker and my visit with him last time didn't go so well." He takes a deep breath. "I could really use something to do."

I consider his words. "So, we'd kind of be doing each other a favor," I muse.

"You could say that."

I let the idea roll around in my head. "Okay," I agree and stand up. "I just started working though so we'll have to work around that schedule."

"You got a job?" He asks, with interest.

"Yeah." I nod eagerly, grateful for something else to talk about.

He hums in response and we pause by the front door. "I don't work until the late afternoon tomorrow, if you want to stop by and look at the garden?"

"Sure," he says.

An enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I made things right and now we could both move forward and maybe when I tell Ponyboy he'll stop giving me the evil eye.

I also posted this on Wattpad under the same name and the penname is Dallysaysshutup if anyone prefers reading there. As usual thanks for reading and if you're feeling generous drop a review ;)