Hello. My name is Nikki. Or wild-eyed kid. This is my first ever fanfiction. THANK YOU TO Sydney the Indie Rokker for beta-reading! There were probably a lot of grammar mistakes!

xxx

I hastily walked up the steps to my house. It was late - much too late for Darry's liking. I know that you're probably wondering "Why would you stay out too late again? Don't you remember what happened last time you stayed out too late?" But, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a little scatterbrained.

I knew that as soon as I walked through the door, I'd never hear the end of Darry's wrath.

Okay, let me take that back. Darry and I really had been doing better. We promised Sodapop that we'd stop fighting. And we pretty much had. Darry became more lenient and I guess I became overall easier to take care of. Not that never-uses-his-head kid Darry always described me as.

As soon as I walked in the door, it happened, just as I predicted. Darry's screams. He was mad. And I couldn't blame him. I was out too late and Darry's earned the right to be worried about me. I honestly didn't mean to stay out this late, though. I was with Curly at a party miles away. We were celebrating the fact that he got out of the reformatory. Curly got too drunk at the party to drive me back home. I didn't want to drive back home with a drunk driver, so I walked. So, in all reality, I was being responsible.

"Ponyboy, where have you been?" Darry shrieked.

"Darry," I said calmly, already ready to defend myself. "I was at that party with Curly."

Soda walked in, probably shocked to see us "fighting." But we weren't really fighting. Not yet, anyway.

"I thought I told you you couldn't go to that party. It's on the wrong side of town!"

Shit. I forgot Darry told me that.

"Oh my God, Dar," I said, being sincere. "I totally forgot you said that. Honest. Golly, I'm so sorry."

Darry seemed to ignore the fact that I had tried to make amends with him before this got out of hand and went on yelling. "Why are you out so late, Ponyboy? It's 1 AM! I thought you were at Two-Bit's! Oh, and you "forgot"? Golly, Ponyboy! You haven't changed a bit! Your head's always up your ass!"

My eyes started to blur slightly then. I willed the tears away. "Darry…" Soda warned.

Darry ignored him and went on. "What if you'd have gotten hurt?"

I had a strange sensation of déjà vu right then. Maybe Darry and I haven't gotten any better with the fighting. "No, Darry! I didn't get hurt! Maybe you should stop worrying so much about me! I said I'm sorry! Get off my back please! I mean god damn!"

And then, for the second time that year, Darry hit me. Much harder than the first time.

I spun around,but before I hit the ground, my foot caught on to the side of the couch. My body hit the floor with full force, but there was a sickening crack. It was deafening.

It came from my foot. At that moment in time there was so much pain I thought my head would explode. Colors were blurring and I couldn't focus on anything. My foot hurt something fierce, and it was radiating all throughout my body.

My foot got stuck on the leg of the couch, and it was bent at an awkward angle. I couldn't see it, but it hurt like a son of a gun.

All I could do was lay there. No tears were coming out yet because I was too shocked by the amount of pain. Nothing was happening but everything seemed so chaotic and crazy.

My eyes were open wide, staring at nothing. I knew my mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. I tried to move, but couldn't. I tried desperately, but couldn't. I was in the worst pain I had ever been in my life.

I tried to move my leg out from under the couch and screamed. It just hurt so much. My eyes flickered Darry and Soda (mostly Soda) for support. Soda kneeled down in front of my face.

"Pony?" Sodapop asked quietly.

"I-It hurts, Soda," I somehow managed. My voice sounded strained and weak.

"What hurts?"

I didn't answer him. My foot was throbbing and I couldn't take it. "Ow…" I moaned. It hurt like hell.

They both tried to take my arms and pull me out from under the couch. The slightest movement, however, made my foot throb. I screamed in agony. Darry eventually had to lift the couch off of my leg. They lifted me up and set me on the couch.

"Oh, God, it hurts…" My eyes flitted to Darry, who looked desperate and sad.

I watched as Soda gingerly rolled up my pants leg. He went wide-eyed. He motioned Darry to come over and take a look.

"Oh, Christ," Sodapop said. "It's definitely broken,"

That's when I finally looked at my foot. And let me tell you - it was the ugliest thing I think I've ever seen. It was somehow already purple and there was a bone snapped out of it! It just hurt so much! I felt like I was going to throw up.

"Oh my God, Ponyboy. I am so sorry…" Darry said to me.

I would have said that it's allright but I was only partially listening to him. My surroundings started to blur and the excrutiating pain radiating in my leg seemed to be spreading through my veins like a wildfire.

Then, Soda snapped. I knew he didn't mean what he was saying. "Darry! Why and the hell would you do that again? He said he was sorry!" I wanted to tell Soda to not be so hard on Darry because I knew he felt bad enough, but I didn't. But I was also thankful that Sodapop was sticking up for me.

Soda got up and accidentally bumped in to my foot. It was soft but it caused me to whimper. There was a sudden white hot flash of pain and I yelped. "Ow!" I couldn't help it. My surroundings were starting to blur and I was struggling in and out consciousness. Tears were starting to brim my eyes.

"…hospital?"

"Let's go!" Darry said. I put my arms around both of their shoulders, holding my injured leg up.

We all got in to the truck. My mind was racing.

Darry was driving and Soda and I were in the back. "Set your leg on mine, Pone." Sodapop commanded as he patted on his leg. I struggled but did as I was told without argument.

"Is…" I swallowed. "Is it supposed to hurt this much?"

"I-I don't know," Soda answered. "Are you all right?"

I nodded weakly and whispered, only to where Sodapop could hear, "He hit me again… How come he never hits you?" Despair wracked my body as I thought that Darry didn't like me again. Jesus. Talk about déjà vu.

Soda's not exactly the golden child. He's come home late before. He's even gone to jail before. So, how come every time I mess up, I get hit?

Then I whispered to myself, "I was right. He does hate me." I was slightly woozy. Every second felt like an hour. Every hour felt like a million days.

I know I was sounding melodramatic, but I was in a lot of pain. My bone snapped in half for Christ's sake.

We sped down the road and eventually got in to the hospital parking lot.

What a long night.

xxx

Oh, and just so everyone knows, YES, I have broken my foot before. I am writing on experience.

-yolo-