"All we're saying is you need to have some fun, Curtis." Dennis took a sip of his Coke, wiped some sweat off his forehead, and trained his gaze on me again. "You're always working, man! You gotta live a little!"

"He's right," Larry agreed. "I swear, Curtis, I ain't never seen nobody work as much as you do. I know you gotta provide for your brothers and all, but that don't mean you can't have fun, right?"

I shook my head. "I do have fun. Just not when I have other things to do," I said pointedly. "Like right now. Come on ya'll, it's time to get back to roofin'."

The other guys groaned, but stood up and followed me back to the work site. "See, this is what I'm talkin' bout, Curtis! You're always wantin' to get back to work. Glory, man, take a break!" Dennis yawned and lazily put his helmet on.

Dennis and Larry were good guys, but they were always trying to get me to go out to parties or drinking at bars with them. No matter what I told them, they never seemed to get that I just didn't have the time to do stuff like that. It wasn't an issue of overworking myself, it was simply that I had other things to do than drink myself silly with my co-workers.

"Ya'll bothering Darry again?" Our boss, Gary, asked sharply. Gary was ten years our senior, a strict, firm man who understood why I didn't always go out with the boys. Back when I had first started working for the company, he had pulled me over, and told me he understood about my "situation" at home. Gary's a good boss, someone who thinks of his workers as more than just people under him.

"Nah, Gary, we ain't bothering Darry none. Just trying to get him to loosen up some," Larry said. He grinned and tossed me some work gloves.

"Maybe it isn't Darry who needs loosening up, just you two who need some tightening up. Hell, if you two worked half as hard as Darry does, Lord knows we wouldn't be so behind schedule all the time! Isn't that right, Darry?"

"Yessir," I replied as I started climbing up the ladder and onto the roof.

At around one o'clock we had to stop roofing because it had gotten too hot. Once the sun comes out and it gets real hot outside, the tar starts to stick to your shoes and you can't get any work done. On roofing days we usually start early, around four in the morning and then end at about one. I personally like roofing days, because I can usually be back home before the rest of the gang gets there, which means I can keep at least one lamp from breaking.

I had packed up my tools and supplies and was heading towards my truck when I heard a voice behind me, which I immediately recognized as Gary's.

"Sir?" I asked. To tell the truth, it was the end of the week, I was tired, and I was itchin' to get home.

Gary nodded in acknowledgement. "Curtis, I really meant what I said today. I'm not lying; you really are one of – heck, I'd even venture to say you are the hardest working man we've got here."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just letting you know that if you keep up the hard work, and I know you will, you could have a promotion coming your way soon. I mean, you've been with us for almost three years, Darry, and I've never seen you miss a day or not come in willing and ready to work. That's real admirable. And I know that money's tight over at your house, so if anyone could use this raise, it's you." Even though I didn't like Gary knowing about our family's money problems, I was glad that he didn't mince words. I don't like people who try to hide behind fancy words. I'd rather someone be blunt and say what they mean.

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."

"And I appreciate your hard work, Darry. Keep it up." Gary patted my back and walked away.

As I got in my car, I thought about what he said. Even if I didn't like it, he was right about money. Ever since our parents died money had become an issue in our house. It was because of this that I worked two jobs, and Soda had dropped out of school to work full-time at the DX.

By the time I had gotten home around two, it was pouring rain outside. Tulsa had the craziest weather; one minute it could be over 100 degrees, and the next minute it was raining and storming like crazy.

I turned off the car, walked through the rain and opened the door to our house. We never lock our door, which bothers and amazes some of our neighbors.

I noticed when I walked into the living room that the house was completely quiet. There used to be a time when our house was never quiet, when there would also be some hood lounging around, watching TV, eating food, or just hanging out. That was two years ago, and things have changed now. We still have hoods lounging around, but not as many and not all the time. Today was a Friday afternoon, though, so I could guarantee that in a few hours the house would be full of greasers whoopin' and hollerin'.

I took a quick shower, changed into some clean clothes, and took a piece of chocolate cake, the single thing (besides Two-Bit) that's always in our fridge, no matter what.

I finished the chocolate cake quick reasonably quickly – in our house, food doesn't last long, whether it's in the refrigerator or on the table or a plate – and after washing my dish and fork went to sit down in what the boys had nicknamed as "Superman's chair." I had learned long ago that I couldn't stop Soda or Steve from stretching out across the couch after they were dirty from work, so I had finally gotten all of the gang together one day and told them that they could sit wherever the hell they wanted as long as they left this chair alone. I promised them that if I did catch them sitting in it, I would beat their heads in. And trust me, I wasn't kidding – Two-Bit could tell you that from past experience.

It felt strange to be able to sit down in the quiet living room by myself and see that I had nothing to do. I like to be kept busy, working, so that I don't feel useless. The boys at work are right when they say that I'm not too good at just relaxing. Even though they're my brothers, Ponyboy and Sodapop are nothing like me when it comes to work. And while Soda understands the way I am, Pony has more trouble with it.

I didn't used to be as work-driven as I am now, though. When Ma and Pa died, I was just like any normal 19 year old. But now, it's been three years since their death, and I'm 22, and I've grown up a lot. When you're 19, you don't have a care in the world other than school. You feel inevitable. By the time you get to be my age, you've seen more of the world and you start to realize that it's not all fun and games and fights and booze and broads. There's work, and bills, and food to buy and cook, and more responsibilities.

I've tried telling Sodapop that, but he just doesn't get it. Soda knows about the responsibilities of life, but he still sees it as one big party. That could be 'cuz he's only 18, but it's more likely because he's just Soda. When you're around him you're bound to have a good time, whether you plan to or not.

I must have drifted off on the chair, because the next thing I heard was the TV blasting, pots clanging, and voices yelling. My head immediately started pounding.

Opening my eyes, I saw Two-Bit lounged across the couch, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, watching some TV show.

"Put that thing out," I told him immediately. He glanced over, surprised to see me up, and a grin spread over his face.

"Well, lookee here!" He shouted. "Superman's up! Just in time!"

"Just in time for what?" I grabbed his cigarette and ground it into the ashtray.

He continued talking, unfazed. "Why, just in time for the party at Shepard's!"

"Are ya comin, Darry?" Steve yelled from the bathroom. The bathroom door was open, so I could see Steve positioned in front of the mirror, combing some more grease into his hair.

I didn't answer him. Instead I got up from the chair, went to the bathroom, pushed him out of the way, and got myself two Tylenols.

"It's gonna be a good one," Steve told me excitedly. Ever since he and Evie had broken up, he had started looking forward to every party as a chance to hook up with a girl. The Socs hadn't been bothering Greasers lately, so the energy Steve once would have put into fighting now went into finding himself new girls every week. Not to say that there wouldn't be fighting at this party. It was pretty much a given that there would be some fight at any Shepard party.

I got myself a glass of water, downed the medicine, and collapsed onto my chair, rubbing my forehead.

"So, ya gonna come with us?" Two-Bit asked me, not even bothering to move his eyes from the screen.

"Who all's goin?" I asked. Even if I wasn't going, I might as well find out who was.

"Hell, everyone!" Two-Bit grinned like a maniac and took a sip of a beer that I assumed he had gotten from our fridge. It would have been one of the beers that he stocked our fridge with, because it couldn't have been any of us. I choose not to drink, Soda doesn't need any alcohol to get high, and Pony sure as hell had better not be touchin' the stuff, at least not when I'm around to bust him for it.

"Ya'll seen my jacket?" Sodapop shouted from his room.

"Yeah, it's on the couch!" Steve yelled back at him, still preoccupied with his hair.

I massaged my head harder. Our house was small; did they really have to yell that loudly?

Soda came bounding out of his room, headed straight toward to couch. He jumped on Two-Bit, who yelped and fell off the couch, taking Soda with him. The two immediately started wrestling on the floor.

Ponyboy came out of his room and watched the two of them with mild interest before stepping over them so that he could change the TV channel. He glanced over at me.

"You comin, Dar?" He asked me.

I shook my head, a little surprised that Pony was going. While he does attend parties, he doesn't go nearly as much as the other boys. This would have to have been his second party this week. "You're going?"

He nodded.

"He's going because he's got his eye on a chick!" Two-Bit said, laughing. He and Soda had finished wrestling, and he was back to drinking his beer and watching TV.

I looked at Pony to see if it was true, and sure enough, his ears were turning a little bit red. He good-naturedly punched Two-Bit, but didn't say anything.

I wouldn't have been surprised if Two-Bit was right. Ponyboy's sixteen and though he doesn't say much about it to me, I'm sure he's interested in girls by now. And they're interested in him too, because as he's gotten older, he's gotten taller and developed a pretty good build. Plus, though he'd never believe it, he's almost (not exactly, because no one could beat Soda) as good-looking as Soda is.

A year or so ago, I might not have let Ponyboy go to a Shepard party. But things have changed. Now I'm still not so fond of the idea, but I won't stop him.

"Alright ya'll, let's go" Soda said, pulling on his jacket. He patted me on the back as he headed towards the door with Pony on his heels.

"Be home by a reasonable hour," I told him.

"Ain't we always?" He replied with one of his infectious grins. I snorted as I thought of the many times he had been home late and all his excuses. His most recent one had been that he had thought that 2 AM was a reasonable hour. It didn't matter too much either way; it was impossible to get mad at Soda.

"See ya, Darry. Try not to have too much fun," Two-Bit said mock-seriously. He grabbed Steve, who was giving his hair one final touch, and shoved him out the door. He waved once more at me, and then I heard the door slam for the final time.

I could hear them hooting and hollering down the street for a minute or so more, and then it was as quiet as it had been before they had even come.

I closed my eyes and stretched out in the chair. I couldn't think of any other person I knew that would be home on a Friday night, but I'm not like most people. This is the way I am, and personally, I'm fine with it.