We reached the vacant lot just as Dally came in, running as hard as he could, from the opposite direction. The wail of a siren grew louder and then a police car pulled up across the street from the lot. Doors slammed as the policemen leaped out. Dally had reached the circle of light under the street lamp, and skidding to a halt, he turned and thrust is hand into his pocket. I remembered his voice: Ibeencarryin' aheater.Itain'tloaded,butitsuredoeshelpabluff.

It was only yesterday that Dally had told Johnny and me that. But yesterday was years ago. A lifetime ago.

You blasted fool, I thought. They don't know you're only bluffing. And then I realized that was what Dally wanted. Please not him, I thought, not him and Johnny both... realizing what I needed to do, I stumbled sideways, inbetween Dally and the policemen. In the line of fire.

"Ponyboy!" Dally cried out. I was surprised at how much anger his voice held. "MOVE!" My head was foggy, and the view wasn't fitting together real good, but I staggered forward anyway.

"For God's sake, Pony, get out of the way!" Dally roared. He took a heaving breath, and coughed, "Please."

This tells you how out of it I was: The thought that made it through my haze was, DidDallasWinstonjustsayplease? But I kept moving forward, and then suddenly I was at Dally's feet, and then he was lifting me up, trying to throw me out of the way-

"He loved you too Dally," I managed.

Midway through chucking me sideways, he pulled back, and we did a weird spin-around that made the world that much blurrier and me wanna heave. We both hit the ground, the impact jarring my back. I groaned quietly.

"Yeah, kid, I know. He loved the whole dang world, and look what good that did him!"

All I got from that statement was, Dally really wants to be dead. And, for Johnny, I couldn't let that happen.

We sat up, and I whispered, "Put the heater in my pocket."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"No. Put it in my pocket, an' then I'll give it to Two-Bit or someone to get rid of. Then you won't get caught with a heater, and they ain't gonna search me. I'm just a kid."

Dally glared at me and shook my shoulders. "Yeah, Pony, you're just a kid. You got a life to live, which I ain't ruinin' just so I can keep goin'. Why d'you think I'm here?"

I wasn't thinking straight, but the answer seemed pretty obvious. "'Cause of Johnny. That's why I'm here, too."

Dally paused. He shot a glance behind me, and then did the most unDally-like thing I'd ever seen him do. He gave me a hug. I kneeled there completely dumbfounded until I heard a harsh whisper in my ear: Grab it, you idiot.

I jerked my arm out sideways and gave him a quick hug. On the way back, I tugged the gun out of his pocket and shoved it into mine. I stood and turned back towards the gang. Darry was looking like he wanted to come after me, but Soda had an arm on his shoulder. Good ole' Soda, he would know what I was doing. Two-Bit, Steve and Soda looked like they were trying to... talk the cops out of coming over. And it looked like it was working. They were yammering away with their arms out in front of them, and they were blabbing loud enough that the cops stopped to listen. I wobbled toward them, and said surprisingly clearly, "Ok, Dally's ready now."

Soda, Steve and Two-Bit all clamped their traps shut as the cops ran over. The world split in two, and for one terrifying moment I thought it wasn't going back. When it did, I gripped onto Two-Bit's sleeve and said real quiet, "Get Dally's heater outta my pocket and hide it back home."

Two-Bit's eyes widened and he looked down at me. He glanced over at the cops, who were putting handcuffs on an oddly subdued Dally. I'd forgotten he'd still have to do time for robbing the grocery store. I guess it didn't matter much now that I had his gun. Two-Bit reached into my pocket, which almost knocked me off my feet, but I made sure it was safely inside his jeans before I was going to pass out.

I saw Dally pushed into a police car and got a cold feeling in my stomach. What would this time in the cooler do to him? One part of me said not much, the part that knew the Dally that had grown up on the streets of New York and was tough as nails. But the other part of me was scared. The Dally that cared, that had been driven out here because of that caring, would get crushed in jail. Or even worse, disappear again.

Was it too late? I wondered as the world spun around me and sirens filled my ears. Was Dally already hardened to the point of no return? Was it better that way? Blobs of faces and visions of things past were dancing in the red mist the covered the lot. It swirled into a mass of colours and I wondered, Was it too late for all of us? Dally and Johnny and Tim Shepard and Bob and the rest of us? I felt myself swaying on my feet. Someone cried, "Glory, look at the kid!"

And the ground rushed up to meet me very suddenly.

When I woke up, it was light. It was awful quiet. Too quiet. I mean, our house just isn't naturally quiet. The radio's usually going full blast and the TV is turned up loud and people are wrestling and knocking over lamps and tripping over the coffee table and yelling at each other. Something was wrong, but I couldn't quite figure it out. Something had happened... I couldn't remember what. I blinked at Soda bewilderedly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed watching me.

"Soda..." -my voice sounded weak and hoarse- "Is somebody sick?"

"Yeah." His voice was oddly gentle. "Go back to sleep now."

An idea was slowly dawning on me. "Am Isick?"

He stroked my hair. "Yeah, you're sick. Now be quiet."

I had one more question. I was still kind of mixed up. "Is Darry sorry I'm sick?" I had a funny feeling that Darry was sad because I was sick. Everything seemed vague and hazy.

Soda gave me a funny look. He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, he's sorry you're sick. Now please shut up, will ya, honey? Go back to sleep."

I closed my eyes. I was awful tired.

When I woke up next, it was daylight and I was hot under all the blankets on me. I was thirsty and hungry, but my stomach was so uneasy I knew I wouldn't be able to hold anything down. Darry had pulled the armchair into the bedroom and was asleep in it. He should be at work, I thought. Why is he asleep in the armchair?

"Hey, Darry," I said softly, shaking his knee. "Hey, Darry, wake up."

He opened his eyes. "Ponyboy, you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think so."

Something had happened... but I still couldn't remember it, although I was thinking a lot clearer than I was the last time I'd waked up.

He sighed in relief and pushed my hair back. "Gosh, kid, you had us scared to death."

"What was the matter with me?"

He shook his head. "I told you you were in no condition for a rumble. Exhaustion, shock, minor concussion- and then Two-Bit came blubberin' over here with some tale about how you were runnin' a fever before the rumble and how it was all his fault you were sick. He was pretty torn up that night," Darry said. He was quiet for a minute. "We all were."

And then I remembered. Johnny was dead, Dallas torn apart, in jail. Both gone. Don't think of them, I thought. (Don't remember how Johnny was your buddy, don't remember that he didn't want to die. Don't think of Dally breaking up in the hospital, being driven away into the dark. Try to think that Johnny is better off now, that Dallas had been through worse too many times to count. Don't think of the Southern gentlemen. Best of all, don't think. Blank your mind. Don't remember. Don't remember.)

"Where'd I get a concussion?" I said. My head itched, but I couldn't scratch it for the bandage. "How long have I been asleep?"

"You got a concussion from being kicked in the head- Soda saw it. He landed all over that Soc. I've never seen him so mad. I think he could have whipped anyone, in the state he was in. Today's Tuesday, and you've been asleep and delirious since Saturday night. Don't you remember?"

"No," I said slowly. "Darry, I'm not ever going to be able to make up the school that I've missed. And I've still got to go to court and talk to the police about Bob's getting killed. And now... with Dally..." -I took a deep breath- "Darry, do you think they'll split us up? Put me in a home or something?"

He was silent. "I don't know, baby. I just don't know."

I stared at the ceiling. What would it be like, I wondered, staring at a different ceiling? What would it be like in a different bed, a different room? There was a hard, painful lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow.

"Don't you even remember being in the hospital?" Darry asked. He was trying to change the subject.

I shook my head. "I don't remember."

"You kept asking for me and Soda. Sometimes for Mom and Dad, too. But mostly for Soda."

Something in his tone of voice made me look at him. Mostly for Soda. Did I ask for Darry at all, or was he just saying that?

"Darry..." I didn't know quite what I wanted to say. But I had a sick feeling that maybe I hadn't called for him while I was delirious, maybe I had only wanted Sodapop to be with me. What all had I said while I was sick? I couldn't remember. I didn't want to remember.

"Johnny left you his copy of GonewiththeWind. Told the nurse he wanted you to have it."

I looked at the paperback lying on the table. I didn't want to finish it. I'd never get past the part where the Southern gentlemen go riding into sure death because they are gallant. Southern gentlemen with big black eyes in blue jeans and T-shirts. Don't remember. Don't try to decide if he died gallant. Don't remember.

"Where's Soda?" I asked, and then I could have kicked myself. Why can't you talk to Darry, you idiot? I said to myself. Why do you feel uncomfortable talking to Darry?

"Asleep, I hope. I thought he was going to go to sleep shaving this morning and cut his throat. I had to push him to bed, but he was out like a light in a second."

Darry's hopes that Soda was asleep were immediately ruined, because he came running in, clad only in a pair of blue jeans.

"Hey, Ponyboy!" he yelped, and leaped for me, but Darry caught him.

"No rough stuff, little buddy."

So Soda had to content himself with bouncing up and down on the bed and pounding my shoulder.

"I'm okay. Just a little hungry."

"I should think you would be," Darry said. "You wouldn't eat anything most of the time you were sick. How'd you like some mushroom soup?"

I suddenly realized just how empty I was. "Man, I'd like that just fine."

"I'll go make some. Sodapop, take it easy with him, okay?"

Soda looked back at him indignantly. "You'd think I was going to challenge him to a track meet or something right off the bat."

"Oh no," I groaned. "Track meet. I guess this just about puts me out of every race. I won't be back in condition for the meets. And the coach was counting on me."

"Golly, there's always next year," Soda said. Soda never has grasped the importance Darry and I put on athletics. Like he never has understood why we went all-out for studying. "Don't sweat it about some track meet."

"Soda," I said suddenly. "What all did I say while I was delirious?"

"Oh, you thought you were in Windrixvillle most of the time. Then you kept saying that Johnny didn't mean to kill that Soc. Hey, I didn't know you didn't like baloney."

I went cold. "I don't like it. I never liked it."

Soda just looked at me. "You used to eat it. That's why you wouldn't eat anything while you were sick. You kept saying you didn't like baloney, no matter what it was we were trying to get you to eat."

"I don't like it," I repeated. "Soda, did I ask for Darry while I was sick?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, looking at me strangely. "You asked for him and me both. Sometimes Mom and Dad. And for Johnny."

"Oh. I thought maybe I didn't ask for Darry. It was bugging me."

Soda grinned. "Well, you did, so don't worry. We stayed with you so much that the doctor told us we were going to end up in the hospital ourselves if we didn't get some sleep. But we didn't get any anyway."

I took a good look at him. He looked completely worn out; there were dark circles under his eyes and he had a tense, tired look to him. Yet his dark eyes were still laughing and carefree and reckless.

"You look beat," I said frankly. "I bet you ain't had three hours sleep since Saturday night."

He grinned but didn't deny it. "Scoot over." He crawled over me and flopped down and before Darry came back in with the soup we were both asleep.