March 1964
An ear-splitting scream shattered the silence of the bedroom. My eyes flew open, and I almost fell off my bed. Trying to free my legs from the tangle of covers, I sat up and squinted to see through the darkness of the room.
"NO! Please, don't take them, PLEASE!"
Ponyboy. My brother was yelling his head off. Having a nightmare, I realized through the sleep-fog clouding my thoughts. I finally kicked off the sheets and got up so quickly that the world started spinning around me. Once I had regained my balance, I crossed the short distance that separated my brother's bed from mine and stood there, unsure as to what to do. Pony's arms were flailing around, trying to fend off invisible demons. I decided waking him up would be the wisest thing to do, seeing as his screams were likely to wake the entire neighborhood if they weren't stopped soon. Catching hold of one of his arms to prevent myself from getting struck, I started screaming right back at him. So much for not waking anyone up!
"PONYBOY! It's just a nightmare! Wake UP!"
I was shaking him, hard, and feeling kind of desperate because honestly? He was really starting to spook me out. He'd never gotten a nightmare like this, and I should know since we'd been sharing a bedroom our entire lives. His yells kept on coming.
"NO, YOU CAN'T! DON'T DO THIS, PLEASE!"
His arm finally came loose and struck me in the face and made me fall on my butt, not really hard, but enough to make me reconsider the importance of waking him up. What the hell was going on with him? The door suddenly flew open, and the light was turned on. I just sat on the floor like an idiot, blinking away the dark spots in my vision, while my two older brothers ran into the room. Finally, I thought. Soda and Darry would know what to do. But both of them stood in front of the bed, just like I had earlier, looking undecided. Sodapop's eyes were huge and panicked. Darry just seemed lost, like this was totally beyond his realm of experience.
"NO!", Pony started sobbing, "Mom..."
That shook the two of them up, and they both dropped on their knees in front of Ponyboy. Darry held his arms while Soda stroked his hair and told him over and over to wake up in a soothing tone. I stayed were I was, my heart beating wildly in my chest, twisting a curl on my hair nervously on a finger. And finally, Pony's eyes opened. Darry immediately let go of him and he let his arms fall on the bed. His hair and forehead were slicked with sweat, his breathing labored. He looked from face to face, and finally spoke in a shaky voice:
"What happened?"
"Just a nightmare, kiddo", Soda answered, looking immensely relieved, but worried at the same time. His hand kept stroking Pony's hair slowly, soothingly, just like our mother used to do to one of us when we had a bad dream. "How do you feel?"
Ponyboy swallowed. "I'm fine," he said but then he started shaking hard, and his eyes blinked quickly. "Just a little spooked." He was visibly trying to pull himself together, taking deep breaths. I knew he didn't want to look like a kid in front of Darry. It seems we had all been putting on an act lately, ever since mom and dad had died. All of us were playing strong and too old to cry or even care. Truth was, Soda still bawled when he thought we couldn't see or hear him, locking himself in his bedroom or the bathroom; I broke down about once a week when I went to visit the cemetery on my own; Pony slept with a picture of my parents under his pillow and had obviously just had a nightmare about our parents' deaths but was denying being affected by it. Darry really was the only one who was too hard to care.
"What was it about?" Darry suddenly asked, getting up and crossing his arms on his chest.
Pony just shook his head, "I don't know. I don't remember."
We sort of kept quiet after that. Soda kept caressing Pony's hair. I reached and took his hand in mine, squeezing it.
"Well, " Darry broke the silence, "it's 2:17 AM. Everyone back to bed. Tomorrow is a school day, and Soda and I have to work."
That was such a cold, hard-core Darry thing to say. No surprise there.
Soda got up and stretched, yawning noisily. He flashed Ponyboy one of his easy grins as he said goodnight, but it was obvious he was spooked. Both of them were. They left the room, one after the other, closing the door and switching off the lights behind them. I climbed on my bed and slipped under the covers. I tried to find something to say to my brother, but finally gave up when my eyes started closing by themselves. If I dreamed, I don't remember it.
None of us talked about what had happened the next morning. We were good at acting as though a certain event had never occurred. Like the car accident that had taken both my parents a few months ago, for example.
On an unspoken agreement, we had decided not to speak of it between ourselves. It might seem cowardly, but it just hurt to much to recall the events of that dreadful night, and besides, it wasn't like any of us had something to say about it that the other was unaware of. It just wouldn't do any good, so we all grieved each in our own way, on our own. We never mentioned it. The pictures of my parents on the piano were enough reminder of their absence, as was the hole in my chest that sometimes threatened to swallow me entirely.
So, that morning, none of us talked about Ponyboy's nightmare. Besides, it's not like we had the time to do so; mornings are always crazy at my house. Darry was late for work, and was doing the dishes while finishing a piece of chocolate cake and reading the paper (how he's capable of doing all these things at once, I haven't got a clue). Soda couldn't find his DX shirt and was running around the house in that crazy way of his in an attempt to find it, knocking the coffee table over and cursing loudly every time he ran into a piece of furniture. While Pony tried to put a decent schoolbag together, I took the time to brush my hair in front of the mirror, something I scarcely have time to do normally. It's sort of short, barely reaching my shoulders, brown with red streaks. I started studying myself in the mirror, since Pony was nowhere near ready and Steve hadn't arrived yet, and was struck, as I always am in front of a mirror, of how similar to Ponyboy's my features are. We both have greenish-gray eyes, the same hair color though mine is longer, the same small nose and round, full lips. Soda used to say that we had the same expressions, that when the both of us were happy, we would flash the exact same smile and that our eyes would twinkle at the same time.
Me and Pony are really close, closer even than with Soda, even though the both of us love him to death. We just dig each other. I often know what Ponyboy is thinking without him telling me, just by looking at his face. I guess all twins are like that, but what's weird is that, we're really different from one another. Pony is quiet and a dreamer; he loves to draw and play the piano, he's always stuck in a book and goes to see movies all the time. Also, get this, he actually digs school. Not that he'd tell anyone other than me. He got put up a grade some time ago, but I don't think he minds. I'm really quite different that way; I don't mind school, but if I could avoid it I would. I like to draw too though, mostly faces and people, not horses or the crazy landscapes Pony always comes up with. I'm also loud. Really loud. I've got ideas, radical ones, and love to express myself. I guess I'm also boyish; I wouldn't wear anything other than jeans to save my life, and my group of friends is mostly composed of guys (since most of them also belong to Darry's, Soda's and Pony's group of friends). I also love to get into fights, much to the dismay of my brothers. It's true that in a neighborhood like ours, girls are often taken advantage of. Not me though, which is technically a good thing, although instead of walking away (like a normal person, would say Darry), I have this habit of punching anyone who gets in my way. Since I'm small, guys are often surprised by my strength and capacity to hit them hard and right between the legs. I've never gotten into real trouble, but the guys keep warning me that one day, some dude is going to punch me right back. Whatever. Growing up with a household of boys has taught me both how to hit and dodge.
A car suddenly honked, and I swung my bag on my shoulder, taking off for the front door with Ponyboy right behind me. We passed Sodapop, lying flat on his belly on the floor, peering under the couch.
"Why are you making out with the carpet, Sodapop? Sandy is way cuter than this old rug.", Two-Bit strolled in casually, his usual grin plastered on his face.
"Trying to find my DX shirt", Soda muttered, getting up to open another drawer.
Two-Bit pretended to tip an invisible hat at us:
"I'd hurry up if I were you, kids. Uncle Stevie over there is in a very bad mood and isn't going to wait forever."
"See ya later Soda!" I called to my brother, grabbing Pony by the wrist as we ran towards Steve's car. We climbed in, the both of us in the backseat.
"'Bout time", grumbled Steve, starting the car and speeding towards the middle school. Steve had been our unofficial driver ever since my parents' deaths. Darry had asked him to because he didn't have time to drop us off in the mornings as my dad used to. I suppose he also didn't trust us to get to school on time without someone dropping us there before the bell rang. I wondered if Johnny would be going to school today. I guess Two-Bit had decided he didn't want to. The five of us are the only ones of the gang who (at times) attend school. I'm in my last year of middle school; Pony is in his first year of high school since he's so smart; Steve attends school regularly enough, and Two-Bit is still a junior at eighteen and a half. As for Johnny, let's say he goes when he can. Soda dropped out of school right after the car accident to help Darry pay the bills and keep the family together. None of us were happy about it, Pony especially. Soda now works in a DX station and never complains about it. Darry roofs houses when he really should be in college like any other guy his age. As for Dally, well, he has better things to do than go to school. Or so I'd heard.
