Ponyboy POV
I walk away from my locker, prepared to head out to track practice.
Lately, track has been the one thing I've looked forward to since Soda left. I tried not to think about it, it hurt too much. Whenever I got a letter, I treated it like it was the Holy Grail. I miss him so much, nightmares come often and I wish Soda was there to comfort me, I've got Darry and I'm glad for that. It's not the same though… just not the same.
I get to the front entrance of the school, about to head down the back way, to avoid any Socs that could be lurking.
I stopped when I saw a familiar truck in the school parking lot. I see Darry leaning up against it; he sees me and walks calmly over to me.
"Hey Dar, what are you doin' here?" I ask.
"Just got off work early and wanted to watch your practice. Is that alright?" Darry replies, there's a hitch in his voice.
"Yeah, that's fine. Are you alright?" I question.
He doesn't reply just looks off toward some unknown object.
"Darry?" I snap my fingers in front of his face to get his attention.
"Huh… what?" He asks me coming back to reality.
"I asked if you were alright." I say.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He tells me, but I know he's lying.
I nod, but give him a weary glance, he doesn't notice.
We walk the rest of the way to the track in silence; I leave him to head to the locker rooms to change.
He looks older, more haggard, if possible. He's shoulders are slouched and I'm wondering if I've worn off on him because he's got that far away look that I get when I'm daydreaming.
I don't know what he's hiding, but it's really starting to bother me.
I change and head outside with the rest of my teammates.
Darry is sitting in the bleachers, here, but then again not really.
We run laps and do other things during practice that I'm used to, but my mind isn't on practice. It's off speculating what could worry my oldest brother.
Bills? I ask myself.
No, that can't be it. My part time job is keeping us afloat. For once Darry isn't breaking his back to get the bills paid, just his neck. His says that my job is helping out, but I still wish I could do more. I guess I never realized how much we depended on Soda's pay-check.
No… don't think about him. I scold myself.
Back to options…
Social workers? I list.
No, we had a surprise visit not too long ago.
That stupid monster lady had the nerve to ask about Sodapop and how we were coping. I wanted to pound her head in for even mentioning him, but I know that she was just being polite. The gang was there and after she said that, there was a thick tension in the room. She left and said nothing more on the subject, which I was thankful for. After she left I shut myself in my room the rest of the day.
Whenever somebody mentions Soda, my imagination takes hold of my brain and I don't know how to free it. It's kind of like the nightmares; I don't have a choice but to let them pull me down into a depression and endure it for the brief amount of time that they control me.
I couldn't think of anything else that could be wrong.
Me? I ask myself as a last resort.
I haven't done anything lately. After Soda left, I got into some trouble; fighting at school and not paying attention in class. Darry didn't know what to do with me. I was just depressed and didn't know how to handle it. I still don't, but things are getting better.
Two-Bit has been hanging around us more often; I think he's afraid that we'll break. He's broken too, but he's good at hiding it. He hangs out with me at school and makes sure that Socs don't mess with me too much, like always. The only thing that has changed is his light airy grey eyes are a little clouded; not as laughing as they used to be.
We have all seen too much to be innocent or even the same again before my parents' deaths. When all we had to worry about was when we would play football or get up for school, homework, and not get jumped. I miss those times.
I look at Darry up in the stands; his face looks as if he's regaling memories. He looks so depressed and I hate to see him like that. His eyes are aching for something nameless to me, but have meaning for him. Raw throbbing pain is reflected in his eyes. I also see there are acceptance and a bit of contentment.
Track practice ends without me paying much attention. I grab my bag and walk up to him, from where he sits.
"Dar, you ready?" I ask carefully.
"Yeah little buddy, let's go home." He gets up and walks away toward the car.
I sigh and follow him, he never calls me 'little buddy' except when things are bad. And usually he only calls Soda that, mine is Lil' Colt.
I stop in my path.
No… not Soda. I think.
That can't be what's wrong.
Oh God, please no. Not Soda too. You can't take away my brother too! I desperately want to be wrong, but all the signs fit.
The car ride home is done in silence.
All these questions float in my head, as if those weren't bad enough, I see Soda dieing in cruel ways. Horrible ways that would make you hurl if you had to watch them. I'm thinking about asking Darry to pull over at just the thought of them.
I don't want it to be true, we always knew there was a possibility he might not come back, but me and Darry were optimistic.
Yeah and look where that got us. I think sourly.
I want to bawl, I want to grab Darry and make him tell me this is a joke, but I don't. I just sit and stare out the window, while scenarios flash through my head, never ending.
Finally, before I realize it we are in the driveway of our house.
We both sit there, me continuing to let my stupid imagination get the best of me. I try to not think about it and give my mind time to think of some story, but it's like I'm a prisoner and my own creativity is torturing me.
"Soda…"Darry breaks the silence.
That's all it took, I put my head in my hands and start sobbing. I feel Darry pulling me over to his side of the car and holding me. This causes me to bawl even more. Darry starts rocking me back and forth, reminding me of Soda, this brings on another wave of tears.
Whoever said "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt." was wrong. Because that one word hurt like shit, it felt like a knife had stabbed me in the heart. And then to make matters worse the knife was ground and twisted to a point where it felt like my heart was completely destroyed inside of me. They were so wrong and obviously those morons didn't see their best friend and best friend's hero die in front of them.
Those people didn't lose their parents; I lost mine before I was even old enough to be taught everything they had to teach me. Darry learned everything and Sodapop almost everything, but he learned enough to get him by. Me, I never got the chance. That's the one thing I envied about my brothers, time with my parents.
And apparently those "wise" people didn't have to watch as their older brother was sent off to war and then to learn that he died there.
So I sit there in the car, at the age of sixteen, crying and letting my older brother of twenty-two hold me. Some people might say that this wasn't tough, but I could give a crap what they thought. I want Darry to hold me forever because I think if he lets go I'll fall apart. Darry is… Darry and that's what made him great. Soda… was great too, but in a different way than Darry. Soda had died a hero, fighting for his country, like always, he was brave.
Good-bye Sodapop, I'll miss you. I love you, big brother. I think hoping that my message gets to him in Heaven. If he didn't end up in Heaven, the morals of my life would be flipped around and confused. Soda deserved to get into Heaven, in my mind he was an angel.
He always kept me from drifting too far into hopelessness when nightmares hit or when the guilt became too much after Johnny and Dallas's deaths. He would set me straight and tell me it wasn't my fault, he'd say it in such a way that you would have to believe him, and I did.
I didn't want Darry to tell me about him or how he died, but closure was what we both needed. So when Darry, cleared his throat, my mind wanted to block out his words, but I ignored it and listened.
"We'll be okay, shhh." He tries to comfort me. "He didn't suffer… they found his body. He was shot down and died on impact." He tells me.
I shake my head from my spot, in Darry's chest.
"Pone, the important thing is that he didn't suffer. You got to remember that, he didn't suffer. It's better that way, we're gonna be alright." Darry continues.
I continue to cry into his shirt and Darry shushes me, trying to comfort me, but it's just not working.
I rip out of his grip and start running down the street, all the way to the lot.
I crouch down; tears are continuing to flow, no matter how hard I try to make them stop.
Soda… he didn't deserve to die. That stupid war, this stupid war! Hasn't our family suffered enough? I think.
"Ponyboy…" Darry is suddenly next to me.
"No, he's not dead. You're lying. You're lying!" I spit out venomously.
"Pone… look I know this is hard, but he's gone." Darry says.
"No…no. You're lying, no…" I try to lie to myself.
"Pony, I'm not lying. I know this'll be hard for both of us, but we got to keep living. For Soda." Darry remarks.
I can't lie to myself anymore, I've tried and tried, but I can't do it anymore.
"He's never coming back is he?" I ask, it's a stupid question and I already know the answer, but I keep hoping the answer isn't what I think.
"No Lil' Colt, he's not." Darry says quietly.
"It's not fair… why us? Why him? He didn't deserve it, why…" I yell, getting quiet as the sentence leaves my mouth.
"I don't know why, if everybody thought why, where would we be in life? We gotta move on, even if it's hard and we don't want to. We have to." Darry tells me in an even tone.
"I don't want to…" I whisper.
Darry pulls me in a hug, "Moving on doesn't mean forgetting Pony. We will never, ever forget him."
"Never…" I repeat to him.
So I cling to Darry, weeping, and refusing to let go. I am hanging on to the only family I had left…
Okay, that was extremely sad and I hated killing Soda, but this is only fiction. I have another story very similar, to this one. This one is more tragedy; the other one is more of a hurt/comfort. If you want me to post the other one ask away. Thanks and please review!