Sixteen
Chapter Three

Author's Note: Ouch. No reviews for chapter two? Oh well. It was only one chapter. I won't let it get to me.

I'd like to believe that the last chapter was good, and I thought it was, but I'll let you think whatever. Now, I hope you guys like this chapter, and if you do, please leave feedback. It helps me get an idea as to how people are liking this story, and it's sort of a big blow when no one reviews, ya dig?


I spend my afternoon, lounging around the house and anxiously waiting for 12:30 to approach. Mom shoots me several concerning looks, and I'm stuck reassuring her that I'm perfectly fine more times than I can count. In fact, I lost count after the seventh time.

The remainder of the night passes by faster than Doug can spell "drunkenness". Before I realize it, it's 12:00, and my anxiety is starting to rise. At the point, I fear my family will never go to bed, ultimately ruining my evening plans.

My attention remains fixated on the wall clock above my desk. The time ticks on; my parents show absolutely no sign of venturing off to their room, and the movie sounds as though it's never going to end.

Around 12:20, my parents and siblings finally call it a night.

XxXxXxX

Soda hops out of Steve's truck, landing hard on the ground. "Hello, Miss Eileen," he greets, stepping out of the way. Sodapop makes a sweeping gesture with a grin brighter than Dallas Winston's future on his usually cheerful face. "I hope you're ready for a night fulla fun and crazy antics."

"What are we even doing tonight?" I climb into Steve's truck, reluctantly scooting over towards his best friend. For a split second, I catch Steve's attention. He doesn't look too entirely thrilled, but he remains absolutely quiet.

"Well, Miss Eileen," Soda explains, shutting the truck door beside him. He situates himself in the seat; Steve pulls away from the curb briskly, driving us into a night that's sure to be remembered forever. "As you found out not too long ago, Steve is awful good at drivin'. Tonight, we're gonna show you his other talent. Tonight, we're gonna lift hubcaps off the car 'round the neighborhood."

"Are you seriously?" I ask plainly, staring straight faced out the windshield. "You two made me sneak out of my house, so I can watch you two steal hubcaps?" Steve suppresses a smirk while Soda nods his head proudly.

After nearly 20 minutes of driving, Steve chooses the first victim – a house deep in the heart of the East side. My blood runs cold catching sight of the shack; it looks like something you would see in a horror film.

It looks as though someone has abandoned the house. I'm only aware that someone lives there because there's a light, dimmed by drawn curtains, sitting in front of the window. Observing the external aspect of this person's property brings me ten different degrees of disgust. The grass is outrageously high – maybe 4 or 5 inches above what's normal, and it grosses me out to thing of all the nasty bugs crawling around within there.

Steve leans against the steering wheel, looking over towards his friend. "Soda, take the steerin' wheel in case we needa get away fast." Steve commands, slowly opening his door. Without another word, he slips out into the dark, starry night. Once he's gone, Soda nudges me, urging me to slide into the driver's seat. Stubbornly, I shake my head.

"No way," I reply, staring nervously at the steering wheel. "There's no way in heck I'm going to be the getaway driver. I have no idea how to drive, and I don't have my license."

"Hell, neither do I. Trade me places then, so I can be the driver." Soda climbs over my lap, diving into the seat once occupied by Steve. I turn my attention back towards him. With something in hand, he's working away at prying the hubcap from the tire.

"Is he going to take all four?" I whisper, watching him in fascination.

"Sure is. S'long as he don't get caught," he answers. I bring my bottom lip in between my teeth. Once again, the idea of getting caught brings excitement to my otherwise dull and routine life. "Once time we got caught, and it was bad. He unknowinly picked Old Man William's house. Lemme tell ya, that man is, hands down, the meanest man on the face of this Earth."

"What'd he do to you guys?"

"He called the fuzz," Soda answers with a shrug, staring blankly out at Steve. "They let me off with a warnin', but Steve got arrested. Damn, I ain't never seen Evie so upset when she heard the news. She was bawlin'." He fades off, laughing slightly. "He ain't a bad guy, Eileen, I swear he ain't."

"Huh?"

"I ain't too sure if you realize this, but I can tell he scares ya. Whenever you look at 'im, I can see the fear in your eyes, but he ain't as bad as you think. He's been through a helluva lot more than any teen wants to go through." Soda looks at me; when I fail to make any form of response, he continues telling me Steve's story. "I'm sure he won't be too happy that I'm tellin' you all this, but the only person he ever loved was his ma. Then, something bad happened to her. I ain't sure what happened because he refuses to talk about it, but something awful happened. When she died, Steve was lost. His heartbreak turned into depression, and he became a shell of the fun-loving person he use to be. Aside from them soc, his mother's death is a big reason why he don't like anything." Soda blank expression turns perplexed in a heartbeat.

My heart sinks into my stomach upon hearing the information he's throwing on me. I was fully conscious that greasers didn't possess the greatest lives, but I was oblivious that they could live in such conditions. Deep down, I wonder if they all live like this, and it makes me a little nauseous to think that some might live in conditions more awful than Steve's.

"To be honest, I ain't sure who took Mrs Randle's death harder – Steve or his father." Soda laughs humorlessly. "His dad was a hell of a mess afterwards. He started drinkin' a lot, and he started to verbally abuse Steve. Sometimes he'd get physically. His dad wasn't no help. He only added onto his hatred for everything, and he made Steve even more depressed. He just made everything worse." Soda repeats gently. He directs his attention back towards Steve; I look at him too. He's busily working away at the third hubcap. "It'll be a miracle if someone cracks his bitterness. And we'll know that hell has frozen over if someone can ever get him to love them as much as he loved his mom."

Steve pries the fourth hubcap off. After stacking them on top of each other, he rises up and leisurely stalks back to the truck. A big, victorious smile is plastered on his face.

"I've never seen him so happy."

XxXxXxX

Soda is left in charge of choosing the next location; the whole truck ride there is absolutely silent, and to be honest, it was a little uncomfortable.

He locates a cleaner East side house, and with a bright smile, he emerges from the depths of the truck to go do his business - leaving Steve and me alone.

I glide over to the driver's seat. Being careful as to not touch my dirty shoes to Steve's seats, I turn to face him. He stares out the window, looking incredibly bored. "So, it's a little cold out tonight." I comment, attempting to start a conversation.

Soda's story tugged at my heart strings, leading me to actually give the greaser a chance. Plus, I'm desperate for the awkward silence to go away.

Steve leans forward, digging around for something under the seat. Moments later, he straightens up, holding a black garment firmly in his hand. "Here, take Soda's jacket. He ain't gonna mind." Steve extends his hand, offering me Soda's jacket. I take it silently, offering him a small smile in thanks.

XxXxXxX

Steve climbs out of the truck for the third time tonight, and this time, Sodapop urges me to follow him. In response, I try to protest, using the defense that I don't want to get in major trouble. With a teasing wink, Soda tells me I'll only get in trouble if we all get caught. I roll my eyes, and when Steve knocks hurriedly on the window, I find myself in dire need of an answer.

I cave; reluctantly, I climb out of the truck, following Steve to the nearest car.

"I don't know how to do this!" I whisper in frustration - frustrated that Soda managed to get me to do this against my will. Steve turns around, shooting me a smirk of absolute amusement. It frightens me; it makes me wonder if giving Steve Randle a chance is going to be a good idea.

"It ain't that hard," he shares, heading to the back of his truck. Steve grabs something before leading me towards the car. "Are you gonna be able to do this, Princess, or are you gonna sit there like a bump on a log?" Through the night, I shoot Steve a dirty glare, annoyed at his choice of nickname.

"Listen here, Steve Randle," I shoot back, suddenly feeling confident. "Don't you dare call me a princess again or else you'll regret it." He continue to smirk, seemingly unfazed by my open threat.

"You sure can be a little spitfire, can't ya?" Steve turns, kneeling down next to a car that looks like my father's. He silently starts working away at the hubcap; my eyes nervously dart around the other areas of this person's property. "Are you gonna join me or are you gonna try an' draw attention to us?" Steve inquires. I look down only to find him peering back up at me.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "What are you going to do anyway if you get caught?" I sink to my knees, lazily leaning against the car.

"You better believe I'm gonna run like hell to get out of here," he replies, turning his attention back to the tire. "I ain't 'bout to let the fuzz take me in. My dad'll shit himself, and it'll be hell for everyone involved. You included, Princess." I sit back on my feet, crossing my arms over my chest uncomfortably.

Deep down, it makes me feel incredibly awkward that I know more about Steve than he's aware of. I almost want to spill, letting him know what Soda had shared, and I almost do until I think about the consequences that'll surely follow.

I'm not too familiar with Steve Randle, but from what I've observed in all of the classes I've had with him over the years, I know he has quite the temper. It's not hard to make angry, and it'll give him more of a reason to fight – something I'm almost positive he enjoys doing.

Knowing this, I wonder if it'd cause tension between Soda and Steve if I let him in that I know about his home life.

In the end, I decide to keep my mouth shut.

"Hey, who's out there? What the hell are you doing?" Someone calls loudly, stepping on their front porch. Steve's head spins around rapidly.

My heart starts racing, pounding hard against my chest. I can feel tears springing to my eyes; we actually got caught. Several questions run through my head, but the one that continues to repeat itself is: are we going to get arrested? Just that thought alone makes me want to curl up in a ball and die. I've never been in trouble with the law before.

Steve swears loudly, reaching for my arm. He yanks me to my feet and runs towards his truck with me in tow. "I've already called the cops!" The person from the front porch yells. "They're on their way!" We reach his truck; Steve throws the driver's side door open and pushes me inside.

Once the door slams shut, adrenaline starts to replace the fear. We're actually going to get away, and once we're far enough away from this house, there's no way the police will be able to find us.

Ten minutes later, red and blue lights are flashing behind us.

"Shit," Steve mutters, pulling over. Both vehicles roll to a stop, and the officer takes his sweet time strolling to Steve's side of the truck. Steve watches him in the mirror, sighing loudly. "Any damn day would be nice, fat ass." He grumbles impatiently.

Steve cranks the window down, waiting for the officer to reach us. When he does, he doesn't look too happy. "We received a complaint saying a couple of kids were spotted outside someone's home, and they were mighty suspicious looking. Are you three hoods the perpetrators?"

My eyes widen. My breath catches in my throat. I recognize the voice. Nervously, I turn to look at him.

As I suspected, it's Mr Rivera – a good friend of my dad's.

He recognizes me almost immediately, and once he does, a look of surprise appears on his face. "Eileen? What the hell are you doing running around with these boys? Lord, do your parents know you're with them?"

"You know him?" Soda inquires incredulously.

"All rights, fellas. I'll let you two off with a warning, and I'm feeling generous tonight, so I'm going to pretend I don't see all of the hubcaps in the bed." Steve and Soda look relieved, and I desperately wish I could say the same. "As for you, Eileen, I think you better step out of the vehicle. I think your parents will appreciate it when they hear where you've been and why I brought you home. C'mon now." Steve opens the door and steps out. I follow behind him reluctantly, and behind me, I can hear Soda tell me that he's sorry.

XxXxXxX

My ride home with Mr Rivera is silent, and any minute from now I'm due to succumb to my nerves and vomit everywhere.

As soon as he breaks the news, I know my parents are going to be all over me, and considering they're going to be rudely awakened, my punishment is going to be 20 times worse.

The thought alone makes me want to cry.

"Let's go, Missy," Mr Rivera says, shutting the car off. I look out the window, surprised that we're already at my house. I think twice about pleading with him to keep this our secret, but I know it'll be to no avail. He's strict with his own children, and since he's such good friends with my parents, there's no way I'll get any special treatment.

He opens his door, catching my attention. I reluctantly climb out of the car, and following behind him, I trudge to the door.

Mr Rivera makes me knock - loudly - on the door, and moments later, two very confused parents of mine answer. "Frank? Eileen? What's going on here?" Dad asks tiredly. Mom barely suppresses a yawn behind him. Mr Rivera shifts on his feet, waiting for me to share the news. When he realizes I'm not so eager to, he takes it upon himself to indirectly announce that I'm becoming a threat to society.

"I caught your daughter disturbing the peace with two hoods from the East side."


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