Soda was concerned. Too concerned. He couldn't sleep. Not one bit. Two-Bit and Dallas never returned to the Curtis house, so Steve had to be home. Everything had to be fine. If backup was needed, the Curtis brothers would have found out. Soda couldn't know for sure, though, without going over to the Randle house. Darry technically gave him the okay to drive over there. Not that Darry would have cared if Soda left without asking first. It would have been a legitimate reason unlike the several other times Soda snuck out.

"Fuck," Soda whispered, sitting up in bed. He checked the clock next to him. 4:02.

"You okay?" Ponyboy asked.

"Shit. Sorry, buddy. Did I wake you?"

"Not really. You've been tossing and turning ever since you got in bed."

Soda groaned, running his hands down his face. "I'm sorry."

Ponyboy sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I'm trying to figure out if I'm worrying too much, or if I should be listening to my gut."

"About what?"

"Steve. He never came over."

Ponyboy shrugged. "Not super unusual. I mean, he doesn't bail often, but he has a time or two."

"I know."

"Why is this any different?"

Soda glanced at his brother. "He had great news to tell us. He told me on the phone and he had that tone and excitement that we were going to be up all night on too much sugar celebrating. Then he never got here."

"Did you go to his house?"

"Dally and Two-Bit did. They said they'd come back here if Steve's car wasn't home. They never came back, which is good, but I just can't shake the feeling off."

"Maybe he got home and had a bad night with his dad."

"If he did, he would've come here."

"Maybe Mr. Randle wouldn't let him leave. Maybe he wouldn't let Steve use the phone."

Soda shook his head and bit at his thumbnail.

"Talk to me. Why are you so concerned about this?"

"I don't know. Trust me, I keep telling myself that nothing that has happened tonight is odd." Soda sighed. "Something doesn't feel right, though. I can't shake it off."

"Take Darry's truck and go check on him then." Pony slid back under the sheets. "Cause I, for one, would like to get a little more sleep."

"I know. I'm sorry. I really am." Soda threw his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll go check."

"Thank God."

Soda playfully nudged Ponyboy's legs. "Okay, okay. Not like you don't get to sleep in tomorrow."

Soda got on a pair of sweats, took fifteen minutes to find his shoes, slipped them on, and grabbed Darry's keys. Now that he was moving around and heading outside, he was feeling dumb about the whole thing. The adrenaline was wearing off and he wanted to get some sleep.

"It'll take ten minutes," Soda muttered to himself. "If I get back in bed, I'll start worrying again." Soda got into the truck and drove out of the neighborhood. With as antsy as he was, it was a blessing there was no traffic around so he could quickly get to the Randle house. It was also a blessing there were no police around.

Upon arrival, Soda slammed on the brakes, the front tire going up the curb. Soda opened the door and stepped out. Well, there it was. Steve's car. Parked in its usual spot in the driveway. Soda forced out a sigh of relief, but the adrenaline rose again. He could go knock on the door and hope it's Steve that answers and not piss off his dad. No. Too risky. Steve was a light sleeper, though. He learned to be a light sleeper to hear for his dad in the middle of the night, or hear Socs if he was asleep in the park. Maybe Soda wouldn't have to knock on the door.

Soda purposefully slammed the truck door shut. He used all the force he could. Maybe that would be enough to wake Steve. Staring at the house, Soda waited to see if Steve would peek out his bedroom window. A few minutes passed before Soda could barely see the curtain slide a bit. Soda lifted his hand to wave, but the curtain quickly returned to being closed.

Soda walked to the fence, leaning over it. He checked around him before whisper-yelling, "Hey! It's me! Soda!"

The curtain barely moved again before the window was cracked open. "Hey, Soda."

"Hey, are you alright?" Soda asked. He couldn't see Steve at all. "You never came over."

"Sorry. I didn't feel well and came to get some sleep."

Soda ran his hand through his hair, unsure what was going on. Steve's words were still. He didn't sound as if he had just woken up. Monotone. Robotic. That's how Steve sounded. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just exhausted."

"You did work late today. Well, I don't know, I couldn't sleep. I was worried, so I wanted to stop by."

"Shit. I hear my dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

Soda didn't want to risk Steve getting in trouble, so he scurried back to the truck. He still wasn't sure how he felt about everything, but he seemed to have gotten his answer that Steve was okay. In some sense.