Helpless

Steve

(Steve)
"Gotta cigarette?" Soda asked, shifting nervously.
"Sure," I tossed him my pack. He'd been smoking an awful lot lately, but I couldn't blame him. He lit it weed and perched on the bumper of one of the cars. I lay down and slid part way under one and began fiddling with the brakes. "You alright?"

I heard Soda exhale. "No."

Silence again, as heavy and hard as illness. Then:

"You know?"

I slid out from beneath the bumper to watch him, but his back was to me. "Yeah, Pony told me this morning."

"What'd he say?"

"That he's got a month. Maybe shorter."

He just nodded and tapped his ashes on the floor. "Doc was a real bastard about it."

"What'd he say?"

"That there was a change."

"Was there?"

"Yeah, for the worst." Soda began pacing the length of the garage. I just watched him, hating seeing him this distraught. He hadn't been since Sandy and the week Pony and Johnny were in Windrixville.

But there was hope then, I thought sadly. And there's none now.

"I'm sorry," was all I could offer. My best friend just sighed and lit a new cigarette with the butt of the old one.

"I just..."

The shrill ring of the phone cut him off.

"I'll get it," I said easily, heading into the store part. I remembered the day Pony collapsed in gym, Darry's anxious voice, always in charge but filled with undertones of worry.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Soda?"

"No, this is Steve. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, this is Cherry. I...I let someone in who I don't think I should have...Soda and Darry oughta get here. Now."

I waved Soda over. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Steve, PLEASE just put Soda on!"

"But is Pony okay?"

Soda went white and snatched the phone from my hand. "Hello?"

He listened in total silence for over a minute. I snatched my cigarettes back from his pocket and lit one, perching on the counter to watch him.

"Did you call Darry?" he said finally, then listened again. "Okay. Look, I can't get out of here right now, but I'll come over on lunch break. Okay? Can I talk to Pony?"

"What's up?" I asked as Soda waited for his brother to come on.

"The state's at our house," he mumbled. My heart sank.

"Shit, Soda, why?"

"Because they don't think...yeah, it's me. You okay kid?"

The change in his tone amazed me. He was suddenly softer, calmer, the fear lines softened. I felt a stab of worry in my chest; I didn't know what would happen to Soda once Ponyboy was gone.

He's gonna need some help, Pony'd told me. But it was more than that.

He needs you, I thought, he needs you, Ponyboy.

We all do.