You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

Would I Care to Pay Attention?

Steve wasn't at school on Thursday or Friday.  Nor was he there all of the following week.

        But apparently he was going to rehearsal for his band.

        On Tuesday after the whole week he was missing, I was meandering my way home from my piano lesson (my piano teacher lives right down the street) when I noticed something amiss on the front steps of my house.

        My mom wasn't home yet, and Mick and Joey don't wait outside for me–they know where the key is and would just go right on in–if they come over early.

        But when I reached my driveway I knew exactly who it was.

        Steve Tally.

        "Gin!" he said brightly, standing up to meet me halfway.

        "Erm, hi?" I said uncertainly.  Why is he here?

        "Can I ask you something?" he asked, though it didn't sound much like a question.

        "You just did," I say smartly, ignoring the weird flip my stomach did.

        He rolls his eyes as I unlock the door to the house.  He goes to step inside behind me, but I turn right around after tossing my bag full of piano books inside.  Consequently, I run into him.

        "But I guess you can," I sighed, trying not to think about the nervousness in the pit of my stomach.  What's so bad about a little question anyway?  A question never hurt anybody.  But in all honesty, I didn't care if he wanted to be here–I liked the fact that he was here.  I wasn't going to tell him that, though.

        "Can what?" he asked.

        "Uh, ask me something."

        "Oh.  Right."  I sit down next to him on the front steps.  "Please be completely honest."

        "Sure," I say, throwing in just a hint of sarcasm in case he asks me some deep question about my family or something that I really don't wanna answer honestly.  The only people that know the whole story are my mom and me.  Not even Mick and Joey.  Actually, I'm not even sure if my mom knows the whole thing.

        Steve clears his throat.  I look at him, realizing I had zoned out.  "Yeah.  Uh, d'you know why I got arrested?"

        Relief floods through my veins, though I'm not sure why.  I felt my face fall, too, which is weird, because I didn't know I was so tense.  "Yeah," I say, actually laughing, "they found your stash."

        "No, no," he says, almost sounding irritated.  "Wait.  Yes.  But why did they find my stash?"

        "I dunno.  Didn't you say that one of the cops is your friend?"

       "Used to be," he corrects, clearly pissed at this guy for ratting him out.  "But I have another theory.  Denny didn't know that I kept it in that book.  Neither did Peter."

        "Okay...?"

        "Did you?"

        "Yeah, you told me, remember?" I ask.

        "Did anyone else know?" he asks.  "Did you tell anyone?"

        "What?  No.  Why would I do that?" I say.

        "Exactly!"  He claps his hands together.  "I didn't tell anyone.  Except for you, that is."

        Is he...?  "Are you... Are you saying I ratted you out?" I demand, anger starting to flare for little-to-no reason at all.