Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns, I borrow.
"I feel awful," Pony says, and he looks it too.
He leans against my shoulder, all pale and shaky, and it's just as much the hangover as it is guilt.
Damn Curly Shepard… If I knew Pony was gonna get blitzed when they went out last night, I'd have followed them and drug him on home before it got out of hand. Thinking about it now makes me feel stupid. I should've known bad things were gonna happen.
I guess I trust Pony too much. He's a smart kid, after all, but everybody has their weak moments.
And that's all last night was in my books, a weak moment, and Curly shouldn't have taken advantage of that.
"You'll feel better soon," I tell Pony, rubbing his back. "Hangovers don't last forever."
There's so much tension in the room, it's driving me insane. Darry's still the silent kind of angry that makes your skin crawl; he's pacing and has been since he woke up. It's an improvement from last night, I'll give him that. Boy, he was anything but composed last night. No one was immune to his frustration, and he oddly yelled at me more than Pony. Guess he didn't like my suggestion he go easy on Pony... Or the suggestion it was mostly Curly's fault. Well, it was, and if I had my way, Pony wouldn't be grounded period. I mean, he'll remember how shitty he feels whether Darry punishes him or not… But convincing Darry is easier said than done, which is why I argued one week over his one month.
Darry approaches us, and it doesn't look like he's changed his mind any. I eye him, reminding him to go easy.
He glares back and shifts his eyes to Pony. "Do I even gotta explain what you did wrong?"
Pony shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I know messed up."
Darry paces more, but his expression is less intense. "I trust you won't do it again, but you're still grounded," he says, and his tone flips back to angry. "Two weeks, Ponyboy. No goin' out, no nothin'. Just track and school for you, dig?"
"Yeah," Pony mumbles.
I smile at Darry. It ain't one week like I wanted, but two's better than a whole month.
Darry groans and shakes his head at me. "What're you smiling about, little buddy?"
"You," I say, and he runs a hand through his hair, ignoring me.
He sits down in the chair opposite of us and massages his temples. I don't think he's slept since the moment Pony got home, and I feel just as bad for him as I do Pony.
"Hey Darry, you ever been drunk?" Pony asks.
I don't know who's more shocked. Me or Darry.
Darry gives me an uneasy look and cocks his head to the side slightly. I can't help but laugh.
I know he has—three times that I'm aware. Twice with the football team and once on his own, a few days after the funeral. I don't remember what happened the first two. I think Mom maybe grounded him, and Dad told him not to piss Mom off again… But that last time I remember clearly.
I remember helping Darry to his bed and promising him at least three times I wouldn't tell Pony about it. He was embarrassed enough I had to see him. He felt awful, and he probably still feels guilty about it. I'd never shatter that promise. Not then, not ever.
"What on earth do you need to know that for, Pony?" Darry asks.
"I dunno, just curious, I guess."
"Sure." Darry sighs. "And you better believe Mom and Dad let me have it…"
"How 'bout you, Soda?" Pony asks, and I grit my teeth.
Darry smirks, as if to say "Ain't so funny when he asks you, huh?" I grumble.
"I don't need to drink," I say, clapping my hand on his shoulder. Mom once told me Pony looks up to me more than Darry, and I don't intend to ruin it now.
Darry clears his throat, and we exchange looks. Somehow Pony misses it, and I'm glad.
He doesn't need to know about the times Steve and I drank ourselves silly. Especially the time we convinced a dumb as rocks broad at Buck's I was an aspiring movie star… Darry don't even know about that.
"Never?" Pony asks.
"Nope, never," I say. Maybe if he thinks I don't drink, he never will again. I doubt it, but it's worth a shot.
"I get high off life," I tell him confidently. It might bite me in the ass later for all I know, but for now he can think I'm the perfect human.
Darry shakes his head at me when Pony isn't looking.
He knows I'm lying but lets me anyway.
xxxx
"If you ever do that again, I'll beat the tar outta you myself. What the hell were ya thinkin'?"
I can't think. I'm hungover, my head thumps, but the lecture is nowhere near over.
"I don't care if I wanna pick fights." Darry rubs his forehead and sighs. "Pick all the fights you want for all I care, but if you're gonna start shit with Shepard, have a damn good reason next time…"
I give a slight nod. I wanna say "A girl is as good a reason as any", but I hold my tongue. It is a good reason though. Me and Sandy ain't a couple yet, but that don't mean Tim can make passes at her. Don't matter if he knew I was interested or not; he knows now and that's all that counts.
"Things are different now, little buddy," Darry says and he doesn't even have to continue. I know what he's gonna say. "I can't have Social Services thinking I beat you. I mean, look at yourself. She can't be worth this."
Oh, she's worth every bruise all right… And she'll still be worth it weeks from now when she's mine and not Tim's, but I hold my tongue. "I'm sorry, Darry."
"I'm only gonna say one more thing. You better…" he trails off when the door rattles.
Pony's home.
When he sees me, his face tenses and he runs to me. "What happened, Soda?"
I debate asking him about track practice to change the subject, but he ain't gonna go for that. I look terrible and I know it. I should've stayed at Two-Bit's longer, but Darry would've worried about me.
"Did the Socs get you?"
I sigh and turn to Darry, surprised he hasn't taken the opportunity to make an example out of me yet—to illustrate "what happens when you pick stupid fights" as he'd say.
He raises an eyebrow and shifts his eyes to Pony, giving me a clear message it's my job to explain, not his.
"I, um…"
Pony's worried eyes are killing me, so I spit out the best excuse I can think of. "Steve and I were rough-housing, and it went a little too far."
"Damn right it went too far," Darry says.
He winks at me, and Pony's too focused on my current state to notice. "Glory, Soda, you look awful."
I feel bad, but I'm mostly relieved Darry played along with the lie.
Keeping secrets from him is bound to land me in hot water at some point. He may be too young and naïve to put the pieces together now, but when he's older and discovers I don't tell him everything, I know he's going to be hurt.
"Honest, it was just an accident," I add. "You know us, we were having too much fun!"
"Yeah, I guess so…"
His face is red and I can tell he's already blaming Steve for every fault in this imaginary fight.
"Don't be mad at Steve," I tell him. "I started it all."
He nods but seems unconvinced.
I sigh and make a note to tell Steve why Pony might be pissed at him later…
xxxx
I get my draft letter a couple days after Pony takes second place at the state track meet. I know I should tell him. Darry already knows, and we're both just biding our time before the inevitable happens.
Even though he can tell something is up, I still deny it every time he asks. It's useless; he ain't young and innocent like he used to be. He's grown up a lot in the last year, and I dare say gotten a bit wild much to Darry's and my dismay.
He knows I lie when I tell him everything's fine, but I can't break the habit.
I don't think of myself or how scared I am to go there. All I can think is how much this is gonna kill him to hear. After he knows I'll probably break down into sobbing mess, but this is how I'm distracting myself—trying to think of a good way to tell him, and it's a bad distraction of that.
For days I go to work and come home like nothing's wrong, but it builds and build and builds until I can't hide it anymore.
I give up on finding words and hand him the notice.
My heart beats faster as he takes it from me.
Watching him read it is pure hell. His eyes grow wider and wider, laced with fear, and when he's done, he says nothing.
He doesn't ask questions, he doesn't cry, he just drops the letter on the ground and stares.
When he throws his arms around me a few moments later, I hug him back as tightly as I can. "I'm gonna be okay, Pony," I say. "They can't get me. I'm tough."
I repeat the lie the night before I leave.
xxxx
I'm doing fine, I start the letter with the same lie I always do.
Boy, do I ever miss you guys, but I should be coming home in a month. Can you believe it?
I chew on the tip of the pen. It's quiet around me now, but it won't be soon. I never know when, why or how something's gonna happen, and it's that uncertainty that eats me alive.
It's getting worse every day. Who's it gonna be next? Me? Another soldier? Some little kid I don't even know? All of the above?
I've stopped thinking. I refuse to think. I just react.
I can't believe Two-Bit got a job, I continue. His mom must be damn happy about that! I'm glad you're enjoying school and wish I could've been there to see you get that award. Darry must be real proud. You two are still getting along, right?
It's funny how I'd give anything to hear them fight now. I really would. I hate to think it, but I'd give anything to be home and hear their voices period—yelling or not.
You better believe I'll kick both your asses if you're not! Can't wait to see everybody.
I'm running out of things to say. It's frustrating; he wrote me a novel pretty much, and I'm barely reaching ten sentences. I'm afraid if I say too much I'll tell him how I really feel.
Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine, I write and underline it twice. I love you so much. Tell Darry I love him too.
Love, Soda
That's a lot of loves, I think, holding it out in front of me, but I send it as is.
xxxx
It's been two weeks since I got sent back. I'm in a hospital bed, my back's broken in multiple places and the doctors just told me brothers I might never walk again.
Darry clenches his fists and follows the doctors out of the room when they leave, demanding more of an explanation.
Pony looks like he might cry and grabs my hand. I let him and watch the tears stream down his face. "I'm fine, Pony," I tell him.
I am too. I'm not upset, I'm not angry, I'm not sad. I'm breathing and alive. That's it. I'm fine.
Pony is silent. The look on his face is calling me a liar, but he doesn't say it. He just squeezes my hand tighter.
"I'm fine, Pony," I say again, needing him to believe it. He has to. He always believes me when I lie, but this time he doesn't. It's probably fiftieth time I've said it this week too, but Pony won't listen.
"No, you're not," he says.
It's the first time he's argued with me about it. I glare, not knowing how to take it.
"Please stop sayin' you are, 'cause I know you're not."
I bang my fist against the bedrail. "I'm fine, damn it!"
He shakes his head, but says nothing.
He doesn't believe me, and I need him to believe me.
I'm fine. I can't think otherwise.
All the men close enough to call my brothers are still there. Some of them still fighting, some of them dead, some of them missing, some of the bodies so mangled we couldn't identify them… Steve's there too. Somewhere. I don't know where. We never fought in the same platoon.
They're all over there, and I'm home. It ain't right.
They should be here too, but they're not. Whether they're dead or not, they're there, and I can't do a damn thing about it.
I might be in a wheelchair for the rest of my fucking life, but I don't think about that. I'm here. That's all that matters.
I'm alive. There's nothing else to say.
"I'm fine, Ponyboy," I lie.
I need him to believe it so I can believe it too.