Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, its characters or the bits of dialogue I've taken from chapter three of the novel.

"Where the hell is he?"

It has to be the fifth time he's said it.

I shrug. He didn't like my first guesses, so I'm done guessing.

I doubt he's fishing for answers anymore; he's just saying it to make himself feel better, and he's doing a piss poor job of it at that. The more he worries, the more worked up he gets, and by the time Ponyboy shows, there'll be an explosion. I'd bet money on it.

"Where the hell is he?" Darry repeats, slamming his fist against the end table.

"C'mon, man, you know we've both broke curfew our fair share of t—"

His glare eats through me, and I sigh. Unless you're interested in a death match for a last word, you just don't argue with him when he's like this. Kinda like you don't argue with Steve when he gets ornery, but Darry's worse. He gets that twitch in his eye like Mom used to get and that's when you stop if you know what's best for you. Pony should learn that. It'd save me so much trouble.

I understand his frustration, I do. Sometimes it takes every ounce of will power not to argue with Darry, especially when I'm as right as I was ten seconds ago. Ain't like we never stayed out too late or earned ourselves lectures from our father for worrying our mother… It happened; he likes to pretend it didn't, but it happened. Still, it don't matter much. You can make all the sense in the world, but if it don't make sense to him, you're screwed.

That ain't the worst though; the worst is when they're arguing the same damn thing, just in different words, but do they ever see it? Nope. They're both so smart, but sometimes they're even dumber than me.

"If we were a normal family," Darry begins, and I've heard what he's gonna say so many times, I have to force myself to listen. "I wouldn't care, but if he gets himself in trouble, if he gets himself hauled in or somethin', our case worker ain't gonna look too kindly on it. I mean, there's a lot at stake here. One wrong move, and we're done... He never thinks ever, does he? He never thinks period!"

"I think you're takin' it too serious, Darry," I start, but he doesn't let me finish my thought.

"You can shut your mouth," he says. "They're already pissed enough you dropped out, so you can shut your damn mouth. All it takes is one thing. It's a miracle they let me have y'all in the first place."

I bite my lip and lean into the back of the couch cushions to stop myself from springing at him. He knows I dropped out to help him, he knows I wasn't passing anything anyway, but yet he has to go and make comments like that…

He says he's over it, but he's not. I doubt he ever will be.

"Soda," he starts like he might apologize. "I…" He shakes his head and licks his lips. "Damn it, where is he?"

I rub my temples and try to keep from yawning. "I dunno," I say, resting my head on the edge of the couch.

"He knows better than to worry us like this. Somethin' must've happened to him."

"I dunno, Dar." I slip so I'm fully reclined on the couch and stare at the ceiling, completely beat and even sicker of this conversation. "Maybe he's just having a little fun and lost track of time? Let's give it another hour before we get too worked up. He's only an hour late."

"Only an hour late?" His voice rises. "Only an hour?"

I press my hands to my face and groan. "How 'bout you let me talk to him when he gets home, hmm?" I suggest.

I roll over on my side to face him; he just stares back, unwilling to answer, unwilling because he's jealous I might actually get through to Pony when he knows he can't. It's awful tempting to call him out on it, especially when he'd just thrown dropping out in my face, but it wouldn't be right. There's so much panic and worry behind the tense contours of his face, I'd feel like a jerk.

I drift in and out of sleep for what seems like forever. "Dar, what time is it?" I ask, pulling myself up.

Darry glances at his wristwatch and grumbles. "Quarter after one," he says, dragging the newspaper off the end table. He holds it loosely behind his fingers and stares at the same page for a long time. Every time I glance over, it doesn't look like he's flipped it. I doubt he's reading; he's just looking for distractions.

Maybe he's right. It ain't like Pony to be gone this long; he's the good kid, and I'm the one to do this kind of thing. At least a year ago I was. I try not to anymore. Figure I gave my mother enough heart attacks with my recklessness, and Darry don't need that kind of stress when he's trying so hard to keep us all together. He's trying too hard, and I couldn't live with myself if I made his life harder than it already is. He's gonna give himself a heart attack before he's thirty if he ain't careful.

I spread myself out on the couch again and count the tiny cracks in the ceiling. I get to eleven, and still no sign Pony. None.

Damn it, Ponyboy, where are you?

I begin to worry too.

xxxx

I wake up to Darry's hollering and wonder how I fell back asleep in the first place. I rub my eyes and blink to see Pony. "Hey, Ponyboy. Where ya been?" I ask, sitting up, but the poor kid doesn't even get a chance to answer me.

Darry's yelling at him again, and he's trying to explain himself again. I get up and approach them. I try to get a word in, but Darry's tearing into him, on and on and on about everything he'd already told me and probably a few more. It makes me sick to listen to, especially when I know he's just worried, but Pony's damn near shaking underneath the misplaced anger.

"I said I didn't mean to," Pony tries to defend himself, but it only sets Darry off more.

"I didn't mean to!" Darry yells, and it's so loud, it scares me as much as Ponyboy. "I didn't think! I forgot! That's all I hear out of you! Can't you think of anything?"

There's a pause, and I react before I lose the chance. "Darry…" I warn, stepping forward, making my tone as firm as I can, but it's still not enough.

He flips around and yells at me, "You keep your trap shut! I'm sick and tired of hearin' you stick up for him."

Well, that's too damn bad, I think, 'cause I'm gonna anyway, but before I can vocalize a single thought, Pony lunges forward with more anger in his eyes than I've ever seen before. "You don't yell at him!"

I hold my breath, expecting Darry to scream some more, but instead he whips around and slaps Pony so hard he falls against the door.

I look on wide-eyed before I can say or process anything.

"Ponyboy…" Darry says.

I lurch forward to see if he's okay, but he's already gone.

"Pony, I didn't mean to!" Darry adds, chasing after him, but it's too late.

Goddamn kid and his quick feet.

Without thinking, I propel myself out the door as fast as I can. He has to listen to me if I catch up with him, he has to, but Darry bolts after me and stops me. "No," he says. "We should give him a moment. He'll come back soon enough."

There's so much worry in his voice, like he's trying to convince himself as much as me, and I'm so irritated, I can hardly think. Two seconds ago, he was chasing after him too; three seconds ago, he'd hit him; four seconds ago, Ponyboy was defending me.

What the hell was he thinking hitting Pony like that anyway? "You … you asshole," I say, springing at him. "You goddamned asshole!"

I bat my fists at him, and he stands there, taking every blow.

I don't even notice that he isn't fighting back until I've worn myself out.

I take a couple deep breaths and pull myself back. "Darry…" I say, my voice breaking. "How could you?"

"I didn't mean to," he struggles. "Honest, little buddy, I didn't mean to."

I grit my teeth for a moment, not wanting to believe him, but when I see how broken down he is, how his eyes are sad, like everything inside him has shattered, I can't be mad anymore.

He looks at me and shakes his head as if to offer a nonverbal apology.

I throw my arms around him and squeeze him tight. "Don't worry, Darry," I try to assure him. "He'll be back soon. Just like you said, he'll be back."