AN: Kay, there's only one more chapter after this one, and depending upon my workload this week, it may be finished by Friday...o.O Seriously? By Friday? Yea, by Friday...So here's hoping. :)

Chapter Thirteen:

Darry won't let me go to school. I'm too tired to put up much of a fight, but I try.

"But Darry, I've got a test today! I've been studying all week!"

"I've already talked to the school. They said you can make everything up next week."

"Next week? It's Wednesday! I can't miss that much school!"

"Little brother, you're sick. I think it'd do you some good to stay home for a few days."

"I'm not sick!" I screech, my hands clenched into fists at my side as I glare at Darry from the living room. He sits at the kitchen table, newspaper propped up in front of him like a shield. I feel like throwing something at him, and I start looking around desperately. There's a lamp nearby, and I grab for it. Soda's rough hands clamp around my arm before I have a chance to lift the lamp from the table, and he picks me up, dropping me on the couch.

Darry flips one corner of his newspaper down, narrowing his eyes at me before retreating behind his shield again. Soda plops down next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"Pony, can't you just be like other kids and be excited about not going to school?" He pleads, and I look up at him, my scowl waning. His eyes are wide and anxious. "You look so tired. Why don't you try to sleep?"

I look away, remembering last night, and shudder. Soda sighs, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze before standing and heading towards the bathroom.

"Come and have some breakfast, Ponyboy," Darry calls, flipping a page.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble, standing and starting down the hall to my room. Soda grabs my arm as I pass by him, pulling me back and pushing me in the direction of the kitchen.

"Pony, eat something. Please just…eat."

I frown but wander to the table, sitting heavily in the chair across from Darry. Without looking at me, he slides a plate of pancakes across the table. Reluctantly, I put two on my plate and smother them with syrup. I usually like Darry's pancakes. Today they taste like mud.

0 o 0 o 0

"You're leaving me with Two-Bit?" I demand incredulously, staring at my brothers and the grinning fool standing near the door.

"We still have to work, Pony," Soda says apologetically, wincing as I glare at him.

"And why doesn't he have to go to school? He's not 'sick.'"

"Ponyboy, just calm down," Darry says. I can tell he's getting impatient.

Good, I think. The angrier I can get him, the better I'll feel.

Before I can say anymore, Two-Bit jumps in. "You guys go on. I'll look after the runt."

He grins wickedly at my scowl, and I spin on my heels, stomping to my room without saying goodbye to my brothers. I slam the door and sit on my bed, listening to the low murmurs and the closing of the front door.

"Pony?" Two-Bit's at my door. I don't say anything.

The door opens, and there he is, looking apologetic and slightly nervous. Why is everyone so weird around me? Does it have to do with that name? The one I've been hearing from them? The one I write when I let my mind wander?

"Hey, kid." Two-Bit shakes my shoulder, and I turn to find him sitting on the bed beside me. "Hey, you all right?"

"Who's Steve Randle?" I ask, and he looks surprised.

"You really don't remember him?" He asks quietly. I shake my head, and he swallows hard, turning to face the wall in front of us. "Well, I…I think he's someone you'll just have to remember for yourself."

"And what if I don't?" I can tell he doesn't want to answer these questions. He looks like he's going to bolt from the room at any minute.

"You will, kid," he says, swatting my knee before standing and motioning towards the door. "Come on, then. I think Mickey's on."

0 o 0 o 0

Two-Bit can't cook. He tries, which is what should count, but I think the day that he finds someone who'll cook for him everyday will be the best day of his life.

I grimace at the charcoal on my plate, sharing a glance with Two-Bit before we both stand and raid the icebox for beer and chocolate cake. I'm on my second piece of cake and Two-Bit's on his third beer when there's a knock at the door.

Two-Bit is still laughing from some joke he told me—a disgusting joke that I didn't find all that funny—as he stands to answer the door. His laughter dies as soon as the door opens, and when I turn to see why, I nearly choke on the bite of cake in my mouth.

A woman stands at the door—red, frizzy hair, pink coke-bottle glasses, too much lipstick, slip showing beneath a faded, plaid skirt that doesn't match her jacket.

Miss Amanda Spenster. My social worker.

"His brothers ain't here," Two-Bit says abruptly, pulling me from my stupor.

She's staring at me, and she doesn't look away as she answers, "I'm not here to see his brothers. I'm here to see him."

Two-Bit glances at me anxiously. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I'll only be a minute," she presses almost desperately. "I'm not here as his social worker. I just need to talk to him."

Two-Bit looks like he's about to say "no" again, but there's something about the way she's staring at me that makes me say, "Two-Bit, let her in."

He turns to me with raised eyebrows. "Your brothers aren't going to like this, Pony."

"Two-Bit," I repeat, standing and heading into the living room, "let her in."

Two-Bit reluctantly stands aside, and she steps in, watching me carefully. I feel like one of the dangerous animals at the zoo, the ones that people just have to see but are a little wary of because their cages seem too small and flimsy.

"Yea?" I ask, not bothering with being polite.

"Ponyboy, I'd just like to say…" She stops, and the confidence that had been on her face only moments before is gone. She looks afraid to say anything else.

I don't feel sorry for her.

"Yea?" I say again, suddenly wanting her to leave, regretting ever letting her come in.

"I'm sorry," she blurts, and for a minute I can see how young she is. God, she's probably not even forty yet. "I'm sorry about what happened, and I'm sorry about Steve Randle. I just thought—"

"Steve?" I ask, stepping forward. "You're sorry about Steve?"

"I think you need to go," Two-Bit says from beside her, grabbing Miss Spenster's arm and ushering her towards the door. "Pony, go finish your cake."

"Wait," I say desperately, reaching out.

"I'm sorry," she says, and I take a good look at her.

I see frizzy hair and lips with too much red. I see wrinkles around eyes and a mouth that probably don't belong there yet. I see a woman too worn out to remember what it felt like to be young…and I see someone who took something from me—someone from me.

"You," I whisper, and Two-Bit stops, watching me with worry. "It was you." I take another step towards her. She looks scared. "You're the reason I can't remember."

"Ponyboy," she starts, her voice faltering as I take another step, my eyes dark and accusing.

"Get out," I seethe. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't move. Two-Bit looks almost frightened. If I wasn't so damn angry, I might stop to revel in that fact. But she's still here, and I growl low in my throat.

"Get out!" I bellow.

And then she's gone.

0 o 0 o 0

"You should've seen 'im, Darry," I hear Two-Bit say in a hushed voice. I don't think anyone realizes just how small our house really is. "He just…He was…so angry. I've never seen anyone like that before."

"Do you think he remembers?" Soda asks hopefully.

"I don't think so," Two-Bit says quietly. "I asked him. He doesn't know why he got so angry."

But I do.

I cover my head with a pillow, listening to their deep, muffled tones until the front door closes, and then the only voices left are Soda's and Darry's. It goes silent, and my bedroom door opens.

"Pony?" Soda's voice is soft, almost scared. I don't say anything, hoping he'll think I'm asleep. He sighs, and I hear the door close.

0 o 0 o 0

I dream about the ocean. Dark clouds are everywhere, and the water rolls violently.

I shout a name into the storm, but my voice carries away on the wind. I keep shouting, and soon I see a hand reach from the water.

My heart thuds in my chest. I can feel salt water in the back of my throat, and it stings. I call again, and the hand reaches further. I'm tired. It hurts. But I fill my lungs as full with ache and pain as I can get them, and I scream.

0 o 0 o 0

I wake with a name on my lips, a name that I scream into the dark as painful memories flood my mind.

"Steve!"

AN: One more chapter! One more chapter! One more! One more! One more chapter!