AN: Umm...Hello? glances around anxiously Is anyone still out there? cricket chirp Yea, that's what I thought...I am so very sorry! I have just been slacking to the extreme on this story. I get so fed up with it sometimes that I can't come back to it for a while. But I think I may actually have an ending in mind for this story...Finally! Within the next few chapters, even. Seriously! I swear! And I've decided to devote my attention to this and one other fic, and that is entirely the truth. I promise! Really, really, really! No more monthly/yearly updating! This sucker is going to be finished by the end of the month if it kills me...And hopefully it doesn't. 'Cause I really wanna finish school and see how much of a failure I am out in the real world...So, without further ado, here is the twelfth chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve:

I hear Johnny out in the hall from behind the door of my room. "D-Dar, I…I'm real sorry. I shouldn't have let Pony go. I…I didn't mean to cause any trouble. Really." He sounds nervous. He's always been nervous around Darry, though. Lots of people are.

"No one's blaming you, Johnny," Darry's deep tone rumbles, vibrating along the walls.

I sigh, frowning at the blank sheet of paper on my desk. I'm supposed to be writing an essay for a scholarship—something about why cultural integration in schools is important.

"I don't understand what's going on in that head of his," Soda says quietly. "I mean, what did he mean 'who' when we asked him about Steve?"

"I don't know," Darry replies softly, and he's silent for a moment. "Sounds to me like…like he's forgotten who Steve is."

"Forgotten?" Sodapop asks incredulously, his voice getting higher. It only does that when he gets real upset, and that doesn't happen very often. "He just saw him! How in the hell could he forget him? I mean, especially since…"

Especially since? What does he mean by that? I glare at the door, wishing they'd realize that I can hear them.

"Like…Like post-traumatic-whatever?" Johnny asks hesitantly. He's not one for chipping in on intense conversations like these, but when he does, it's usually something important. I strain my ears, ignoring the urge to move closer to the door.

"Like what?" Soda demands.

"Um, it's somethin' we learned about in school." Johnny's always a little hesitant to mention school around Soda. But Soda's never minded being a dropout. He's happy being out of school and working, especially since it's something he loves to do. "Like soldiers comin' back from the war. They don't like thinkin' about all the bad stuff they seen, so their minds just…forget."

"Somethin' bad happened while you and Ponyboy were out there?" Darry asks. I can tell he's trying to be calm, but there's something about his tone that makes me think he's worried.

"Nah, nothing bad happened," Johnny explains, and I can hear the shrug in his words. "'Least…I don't think nothin' happened. Ponyboy was pretty quiet after Steve put us on the bus. He didn't even do anything when Steve hugged him—just stood there like he was daydreamin' or somethin'."

I turn back to the paper on my desk, letting their voices fade into muffled murmurs as I concentrate on the tip of my pencil, poised over the very first line like I'm waiting for it to start writing by itself. It does, and for a moment I think I may just get my essay done without any trouble.

But my pencil, suddenly, stops after two words. I look closer and realize I've written a name—a name that I don't recognize.

Steve Randle.

The knock on my door makes me jump, and I turn in time to see the knob jiggle and Darry peek into the room.

"Pony?" He asks, opening the door a little wider but not coming in, like he's waiting for permission. I almost frown. He's never done that before. In fact, no one around here does that, unless it's for the bathroom—and even that's only sometimes.

"Yea, Dar?"

Darry comes in and shuts the door, rounding the bed and sitting next to my pillow so that he's facing me. "How're you feeling?"

This time I do frown, drawing my eyebrows together. "I feel fine. What's going on?"

Darry hesitates, looking away from my face and down to the paper on my desk. "What're you writing?" He starts to lean forward to catch a better look at the words, but I grab the paper and crumple it up, throwing it across the room towards the trashcan.

"Nothing," I say, watching the paper miss the rim by an inch and bounce towards the door. "Trying to work on an essay. It's not going so well."

"Oh." Darry nods, again avoiding my eyes. "Well, why don't you take a break? You can come and help me decide what to make for dinner."

I shrug. "I'm not very hungry." I'm starving, actually. I just don't want to sit through an awkward meal with my brothers staring at me and wondering whatever it is they're wondering while I ignore them and push food around my plate.

"Oh," Darry says again. "Well, if you get hungry, we'll have a plate out for you."

"Okay. Thanks, Darry." I turn back to my desk, beginning to write nonsense words on another sheet of paper to look busy. He sits by me a minute longer before I hear the bed creak and his shoes pad across the carpet back to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him stoop next to the door, retrieving my crumpled piece of paper from the floor. It crinkles as he opens it, and I hear him sigh before he leaves.

0 o 0 o 0

One Week Later:

Two-Bit and I have to walk home from school. His car finally bit the big one. I don't mind, though. Walking is all right, if you have someone with you. And Two-Bit's one of my favorite people to walk with. He tells the best jokes and has the best stories. I'm never bored when I'm with him.

He's in the middle of a joke about two blondes and a brunett when we hear the shouts coming from my house. We both drop our books, scaling the gate and bursting through the front door. Darry, Soda, Johnny, and Dally stand around the phone with wide grins on their faces. Darry's holding the receiver up to his ear.

"Thanks, Steve." That name again. "We'll see you soon," he says happily, putting the phone back in its cradle. Soda jumps up and down, whooping like the Greasers just beat the Socs in a big brawl.

"What's goin' on?" Two-Bit asks, a grin already on his face.

"Steve's comin' home!" Soda nearly shouts, laughing. I don't know if I've ever seen him so happy. "Pony!" His hands clamp around my shoulders. "He's comin' back! Steve's comin' back!"

I laugh at his excitement and smile. "That's great, Soda."

The glimmer in his eyes fades, and his hands slip from my shoulders. I glance around, finding everyone staring at me with expectant looks.

"That's…That's really great," I say as convincingly as possible, though obviously not convincing enough. "When does he get here?"

"Tomorrow," Darry answers when no one else does.

So soon, I think.

I nod as if that is the answer I want. What I really want to know is why they think I should care.

Steve Randle—he's someone important. To them, at least. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I know he should be important to me, too…

I still don't see why.

"I…I think I'll go do my homework before dinner," I say, side-stepping Soda and walking past Darry without so much as a glance.

Before my bedroom door closes, I hear Dally say, "Kid's still out of it, huh?"

I collapse into the chair at my desk, remembering that my books are still on the ground outside and too tired to care.

0 o 0 o 0

I dream of the beach. I'm at the water's edge, calling someone's name.

The ocean begins to boil, and steam sizzles from blistering bubbles that burst with a loud pop! I step back from the heat, not sure why I am standing there anymore.

There's someone here—someone I can't leave behind. Soda? Darry? Johnny, Dally, Two-Bit?

No.

0 o 0 o 0

I wake in a sweat. Soda's shaking me, and I can see his wide, terrified eyes shining in the moonlight streaming from our bedroom window. He keeps saying my name over and over, telling me I've been screaming, asking me what's wrong, if I'm all right.

I don't say anything. I'm not sure.

He lets me wrap my arms around him, bury my nose in the shoulder of his T-Shirt until his soft, familiar scent consumes me. I spend the rest of the night awake in his arms.

What's wrong with me?

AN: Wow, I know this is really short, but it leads up to a longer chapter. Really, it does! Wherein Ponyboy must confront Steve...but still doesn't remember him. gasp Please don't kill me. I promise, new chapter up by the end of this coming week. ReallyReally!

Later, Gators! Catch you all on the flip side.