Disclaimer: I still don't own The Outsiders. Fairly sure I never will either.
A/N: It's nice to be back here even if it is under the guise of a guilt trip. Foster Child – this one's entirely for you.
He just couldn't concentrate. He was trying. He'd promised Darry he would, after all. But every time he sat down to do his homework, his mind would drift, and he'd find himself hours later with the same blank page in front of him that he'd started with.
It wasn't any better at school. As a matter of fact, it was worse. At least at home, nobody much noticed if he'd doze off or stare into space. Soda and Darry were used to him being in a dream world (even though he thought he caught Soda looking worried now and then). His teachers, on the other hand … well, they expected him to pay attention. He couldn't exactly blame them, but it still didn't mean he could help it. He couldn't help it.
The worst part of the whole thing was that he'd written this theme. It was the first real work he'd done in ages, and Mr. Syme liked it. He'd told him he could maybe even get it published someday. And now here he was, sitting at home, his English homework in front of him, and he couldn't bring himself to open the damn book.
He let out an explosive sigh and shoved away from the desk. There had to be something else going on. There had to be something better to do than sitting here with his thoughts. Because that was really the worst part. It wasn't that he couldn't focus on anything. There were certain things he had no trouble focusing on. But he didn't want to relive those nights anymore -- not if he could help it, anyway.
He wandered into the living room to find Two Bit parked in front of the television, watching Mickey Mouse and shoveling the last of the chocolate cake into his mouth. Pony scowled at him.
"You finished it? I was saving that for later."
Two Bit cocked an eyebrow at him and shrugged apologetically. "Well, next time if you put a little sign on it, I promise I'll at least read it before I start eating."
Pony's lips twitched as he tried not to smile. He really had wanted that cake. But as Two Bit continued to look at him with chocolate on his chin and that maddening innocence in his eyes, he couldn't control himself anymore. He started laughing.
"Fine. But don't expect to see chocolate cake for the rest of this week."
The look of horror on his friend's face was worth it. Deciding to ignore him, Pony settled himself into the corner of the couch and glanced at the television.
"More Mickey? Don't you ever watch anything else?"
Two Bit, too, had turned back to the television. "Why would I? Nothing else even comes close to the Mouse," he answered matter-of-factly.
He was very difficult to argue with, Pony realized, and he contented himself with rolling his eyes – a gesture Two Bit obviously missed since he was once again engrossed in the cartoon. When Soda and Steve walked into the house 20 minutes later, not much had changed.
"Are you ever going to get a job, Two Bit?" Steve asked as he walked over to Darry's chair. He never tried to sit in it when the oldest Curtis was home, but he was willing to test his luck when Darry was at work. Pony knew, though, that the instant he heard the door click, he'd fly out of that chair with some kind of excuse about going to the bathroom or getting himself a drink. He found it funny every time it happened, but he knew better than to laugh. He and Steve were getting along better these days. He didn't want to screw that up again.
Two Bit snorted. They all knew the answer. He would never get a job until his mother kicked him out, and considering that Mrs. Mathews would never do that, Two Bit was safe. It wasn't bad being Two Bit, Pony realized once again, looking at his happy-go-lucky friend. True, things affected him but never for long. Pony wished he knew what that was like.
"Hey Pony," Soda said, and he turned to look at his brother for the first time since he and Steve had walked in. Soda was looking at him with some concern, and Pony realized, not for the first time, that as much as he thought he was hiding these concentrating problems from his brothers, Soda probably knew about them anyway. He just knew him too well not to. Pony forced a smile.
"Hey Soda," he said. He let their connection linger for just a moment longer before he looked away, but that didn't stop Soda from asking hesitantly, "how's the homework coming along tonight?"
So he did know. Pony shrugged guiltily. "It's fine," he said, refusing to look at him again. Lying to Soda was one thing. Lying to his face was something else entirely. He couldn't do it, and they both knew it, so he didn't even try. Soda didn't say anything more, but he let out an almost inaudible sigh. There was nothing he could do about this now. He wasn't about to get into it with Steve and Two Bit there anyway.
The rest of the night passed too quickly for Pony's liking. Darry got home an hour later, Steve bolting out of his chair just in time. He and Two Bit stayed to dinner, leaving shortly after the chicken and slightly orange potatoes, and Pony had just finished his night of cleaning up when Darry called to him from the living room.
"Pone, come in here for a minute?"
Wiping his hands dry on his jeans, he walked out of the kitchen – and stopped short. Soda was sitting there too. It was an ambush.