It had already been a long day.

Marty had called in sick for the night shift, so I had to cover. It was almost nine – closing time, and I had been at work since seven in the morning. Most of the time, it's pretty fun when Steve and I get to work the night shift together – normally, it's pretty slow, especially on weeknights. We usually get to goof around quite a bit... listen to the radio and stuff... but tonight had been exceptionally busy for a Thursday.

We had been straight-out the whole time, trying to get oil changes done in-between running out to pump gas. There wasn't even really any time for flirting with the few cute girls that pulled in. Thankfully, things slowed down at about a quarter to nine, so we had some time to get all the stuff done that I usually catch hell for if it ain't done when the boss comes in the next morning.

We both dreaded the job of transferring the old oil from the small bins – in which it was stored inside the shop – to the large barrels stored out in back, so we flipped a coin for it. Steve lost, and he was none too happy about it, grumbling curses as he grabbed the buckets and headed out back. It was a messy job – the openings in the tops of the barrels were small, and, even using a funnel, you were bound to end up with completely oil-soaked hands. Hell, we always had some oil on our hands, but, after this particular job, you were looking at an extra fifteen minutes in the shower just getting it out from under your fingernails. I, personally, was looking forward to a quick shower and going right to bed. I was beat.

I set about restocking the cigarettes and sodas, thinking about the weekend. Steve and I were going to head out to the game on Saturday night. I was sure I was gonna feel like a third wheel – again. It had been rough, since Sandy left. I didn't want to stay home, but going out with just Steve and Evie was getting real awkward. Sure, plenty of girls were interested in me, but I just hadn't been feeling like I was ready to put myself right back out there. What with all that had been going on at home, there really hadn't been any time for it, anyway. But now that things were calming down on the home front, I was starting to be able to think about girls again. I don't know, maybe one of the girls at the game would catch my eye. I was finally feeling like looking around again, a little bit.

No doubt, the truce that seemed to have been achieved between Ponyboy and Darry had contributed hugely to improving my state of mind. There's nothing like being stuck between two of the most stubborn people on Earth, both trying to convince you that they are right, when, in fact, they both are right and wrong, too, all at the same time. Seems like lately the two of them have actually started listening to each other, instead of automatically taking the opposite side just for spite. And, thank God, now when they do occasionally have a spat, they have the good sense to leave me out of it.

I had just about finished the top row of cartons when I heard a car pull up outside. I looked out the window and saw a car stopped right outside the door. I was relieved to see that they didn't want gas – we had chanced it and shut down the pumps a few minutes early. It looked like this was somebody just looking for directions, a pack of smokes, or maybe a cold drink. I stacked a few more cartons and turned around when I heard the door open and the telltale ding of the bell that announced the arrival of customers.

I recognized the guy when he came in, and was surprised to see him. He was a member of one of the other neighborhood gangs, the River Kings. He was way out of his normal territory - those guys run on the complete opposite side of town than we do. I had seen him a few times on those rare occasions that all of the the various greaser gangs found it necessary to band together against a common enemy - most recently it had been the rumble the night that Johnny and Dallas had died. Yeah, I was sure I had seen this guy there.

I saw recognition in his eyes, also, as he walked over toward the counter where I stood. He nodded in acknowlegement but didn't say anything.

"What can I get for you?" I asked. He looked at the wall behind me, and finally said,

"I'll take a carton of Kools." Something in his voice made me hesitate, but I turned and reached up to the shelf where I had just neatly stacked the Kools right next to the Lucky Strikes.

Before my hands could pull down a carton, I heard his voice, right at my ear, and a pointed presence on my back. Shit. I had just broken Greaser's cardinal rule number one: Never turn your back on a potential threat.

"And why don't you just give me everything you got there in that register, too."

I didn't move for a second, and he pushed the gun harder into my back.

"That ain't a fuckin' suggestion," he growled. "Do it!"

"Alright, man. Take it easy. I'm gettin' it." My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the register. Finally, it shot open and I pulled out the cash. It had been a busy day, and there was likely five hundred dollars or more in the drawer. He reached around me and grabbed it out of my hands, shoving me back against the shelves and causing cartons and loose packs of cigarettes to shower down, as I grabbed on to keep from falling. He took the money and the carton of Kools and backed toward the door.

I wasn't sure which I wanted more: for Steve to come back in, or for him to stay out, until he spoke again.

"You know what the fuckin' funny thing is about this, kid?" I had a real bad feeling about this.

"What?" I managed to whisper.

"I'm gonna kill you anyway," he said, and, instantly, I heard a crack, and my left shoulder exploded in the pain of a million bee stings. The bullet turned me around and knocked me against the shelves, causing what was left of the candy bars and cigarettes to fall, even knocking one of the shelves itself loose with the force of my impact. In my mind I saw images of Dallas, spun around by a police bullet, and I realized: I am going to die. I heard the car speed away, the squeal of tires on pavement.

I grabbed for my shoulder with my opposite hand, but matters only got worse when I crashed to the floor taking the full weight of my body on my now shattered shoulder. I screamed curses as the pain shot through my body.

I heard running footsteps and the ding of the door opening again.

"Soda? What the…?" Steve sounded terrified, and I would have expected no less of him. Gunshots did not normally ring out at the DX station.

"Where are you?" he yelled. I realized that the counter completely blocked his view of me on the floor.

"Steve… I'm here," I said. "Darry… you gotta call Pony and Darry." I could feel the blood pooling under my head where it lay against the dirty tile floor, and my focus was fading.

"Jesus Christ, Soda!" I saw him rip off his shirt felt and press it up against my wound, turning me over onto my back. At the same time he reached up to the counter with his other hand, knocking the phone to the floor so the bell rang right beside my head, and echoed there.

"Hang in there, buddy. You'll be okay." I shut my eyes as I heard him dialing.

"Yeah!" he yelled into the phone. "I need the cops and an ambulance at the DX on North Brighton! We just got robbed and my friend got shot!"

There was a brief silence. Steve was pressing down on my shoulder so hard that I really wanted to tell him to stop but I couldn't make my mouth work.

"Yeah, shot. Get somebody over here before he dies, for Christ's sake!" He slammed the phone back down, and I heard him dialing again. He leaned over.

"Soda, talk to me! Don't fade out on me, Soda! C'mon!" He was pleading with me. He turned his attention back to the phone when somebody answered.

"Ponyboy, get Darry and get down here, now! Soda got shot!"

"Yes, just get down here, now!" He slammed the phone again. Every time, the bell echoed in my head.

Suddenly he was right down on the floor next to me, in my face.

"Shit, Soda! Open your eyes! C'mon, we can't do this again. We can't. We need you! Soda! He took the pressure off my shoulder for just a second, as he took my face in both hands and shook it. I opened my eyes and saw his own staring down with absolute terror.

"Pony needs you!" He knew exactly what to say to make me want to fight this.

I really tried to respond – to tell him that I loved him, to tell him to make sure that Pony and Darry knew how much I loved them – but my eyes just wouldn't stay open.

The sound of distant sirens was the last thing I remember hearing.