A/N: Hey everybody! Remember me? It's been a while. Gosh have I missed these characters. It feels good to write them again. And this is a "Five and One" fic. I haven't seen any on this fandom, but I've seen them on others, and I got inspired to write this so…here it is.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders, but I try to stay gold anyway.
Summary: Five times Ponyboy was slammed into, thrown through, or pinned against a wall, and one time it was he who was slamming someone else. Please read and review!
Enjoy!
…
The first time is a Soc.
Ponyboy's head snaps back hard against one of the brick walls that line the alleyway. He fights off a grimace and cry of pain, instead opting to glare and keep his mouth shut. Maybe he should be yelling for help, but that Soc has a hand loosely around his throat threatening to strangle, and he is pretty sure that none of the gang is close enough to hear him anyway.
"I'm gonna kill you, greaser."
The Soc is trying to scare him. Pony knows that. He can see it in his eyes. But he still goes cold at the threat, because the scare tactic works.
The Soc continues. "I'm gonna kill you—" Ponyboy is knocked up against the wall again, and this time he can't hold back the cry of pain. "And then I'm gonna kill all your greasy little friends. Starting with that good-for-nothing at the DX who stole my broad."
Sodapop.
Despite the concussion that Ponyboy is pretty sure he has, the idea of Soda getting killed by anyone—especially this Soc—makes Pony drive his knee into the Soc's stomach. He doubles over; releasing Pony whose legs weren't ready for the sudden weight as they collapse beneath him.
He scrambles up, but the Soc has him by the shoulder and shoves him even harder against the same wall. Ponyboy wonders, perhaps deliriously, if the Soc just really likes slamming people into walls.
The Soc—and Pony thinks that he really ought to find out the guy's name—manages to keep Pony against the bricks as he reaches into his pocket. Ponyboy thinks wildly that he can't believe he left his own switchblade at home.
He can almost hear Darry telling him that he doesn't use his head.
At least the Soc finds it good for something—Ponyboy thinks as the body part in question once again bounces painfully harshly against the wall.
He thinks that he is just about sick of getting smashed into the wall when he feels a blade go up against his throat.
He wishes that one of the gang would come along or that he had tried to yell for help but it's too late. He's pretty sure that this Soc is going to kill him and he really hopes that Darry indulges in that overprotective nature he has over both of them. That he keeps the gang safe incase this nutcase really does go after Soda.
The blade presses a little harder and he thinks of Johnny. Stay gold. Johnny's dying wish and Ponyboy hopes fiercely that he's made his buddy proud.
By now there's enough pressure on his throat that he is sure there has to be blood. He doesn't feel it, but he knows it's there.
Pony's eyes are closed, not wanting to see his own death. He wishes that his last words were more poetic than the string of curse words he had let out at the Soc the first time his body had met the brick wall.
"Hey!"
Ponyboy can't help it: his eyes flash open. A second later, Ponyboy realizes that he knows that voice.
It's Steve.
"Let the kid go," Steve continues, and his eyes meet Pony's briefly. Something glints in Steve's hand and Ponyboy wonders why he didn't notice Steve pull out a switch.
The Soc hesitates, pushing Ponyboy's shoulder harder into the wall before giving up. He lets go and the kid slides down the wall as he takes off. Steve watches the alley's end where the Soc disappeared, as if waiting for him to come back.
After a few moments, Steve jogs over to Ponyboy and kneels.
"Kid?"
Ponyboy groans. The adrenaline is edging off; the pain is taking its place. "I'm okay."
"And you look it, too," Steve mutters sarcastically. He gives Ponyboy a once-over and sighs. "Kid, Soda's gonna kill you."
Ponyboy groans. "Not my fault, Steve." He feels like he's about to pass out, and that feels important to him.
Steve looks like he wants to argue, but thinks better of it. "Alright," he relents. "Give me the rundown. Cut on the neck…what else?"
"The brick wall really packs a punch."
Steve can't tell if Ponyboy is being sarcastic or if he is just delirious. "Ponyboy."
Ponyboy is trying very hard not to pass out on Steve. He wants to tell Steve that he is fine, but it doesn't come out. For once, he actually gives Steve a real and honest answer, because he's smarting something fierce and he's so tired. "Maybe a concussion." Ponyboy winces slightly because he really can't help it. "A few broken ribs."
"Can you walk, kid?"
"Sure."
Steve can tell that he's going to need some help, so he wraps Ponyboy's arm around his shoulders and they stand together.
The walk to the Curtis' house is long, and Steve gives a shout when they reach the front yard.
Darry and Soda both come out, Two-Bit poking his head out the door before following.
"Glory, kiddo," Ponyboy hears Sodapop breathe as Steve half-drags him into the house. Ponyboy collapses on the couch with a groan and Soda runs to kneel beside him and push the hair out of his eyes.
"Soda," Darry says quietly, getting both of his brothers' attention. "First aid kit?"
Soda nods, standing up and casting one more glance at his youngest brother before going to get it. Darry takes his spot by the couch, kneeling by Ponyboy's head.
"What happened, Ponyboy?" Darry asks, and Two-Bit and Steve both blink at the surprising gentleness in his voice.
"A Soc decided to jump me in the alley by the library."
"Any idea why?" Two-Bit asks.
Ponyboy looks around, making sure his second oldest brother is not there, and then nearly whispers, "I think he had somethin' against Soda." He knows that Soda would feel guilty, and it really isn't Soda's fault.
Darry frowns and feels a surge of protectiveness. He isn't sure what he is going to do with the news, but he knows that he's not letting this Soc touch any of the gang—especially his brothers. Soda's back in the room now, handing Darry the first aid and taking his place by the top of Pony's head.
"What'd he do to you, Pone?" Two-Bit asks as Darry begins to clean the cut on his neck.
"Dragged me into the alley. Jumped me. Steve came and he left."
Darry and Soda both roll their eyes at one another, knowing full well of Ponyboy's tendency to glance over any and all of his injuries.
Steve was smirking. "See, this is why I had you tell me when you were still kinda out of it." Ponyboy glares at him, and the rest of the gang looks at him expectantly. Steve continues. "The guy slammed him against the brick wall a few times."
Soda and Darry both suck in sharp breaths and Two-Bit cringes. Steve continues. "He thinks he might have a concussion. Maybe a few broken ribs."
"Hurts like nothin' else," Pony admits quietly.
Darry stands, turning his back to Pony. Soda still catches that look that is in his older brother's eyes, though. The look that is so many emotions: checked anger, controlled panic, and there's a fear that makes Darry look younger somehow.
"We're taking you to the hospital."
"I don't think I can walk real well, Dar."
"Why?"
The question is thrown out there calmly despite the alarm Darry evidently feels.
Pony replies, "The room is spinnin' a heck of a lot." He curses the brick wall.
The oldest Curtis turns back around to face the youngest, sighing slightly at the obvious pain he is in, and slides an arm underneath the kid's legs and one under his back.
Darry apologizes when Ponyboy winces slightly.
He passes out on the way to the hospital, and wakes up the next day in his own bed. The first thing out of his mouth makes Sodapop laugh.
"Walls are stupid, Soda."
…
The second time is four months later, and Ponyboy doesn't think that it is his fault no matter what Steve says.
Ponyboy is standing in one of the aisles in the DX, drinking a Pepsi and watching Steve and Soda work on a Corvette outside in the rain. A man walks in, obscuring his view, and looks around. For a moment, Ponyboy wonders if he is planning to steal something. He doesn't say anything though, because the man hasn't even noticed that there is someone else in the store.
The greaser is pretty sure that he is right about the stealing when the man eyes the cash register. He walks over and presses a button, making the register zing open and he starts pocketing the cash. Pony wonders where the heck the cashier is.
Ponyboy scans the thief from the safety of the shelves he is now hiding behind, and he sees it. The gun. He isn't sure why he is surprised: anybody planning to rob a place has some sort of weapon on them.
Ponyboy flashes back to Dally crumpling under the streetlight with an unloaded gun after holding up a store and wonders briefly if this guy is just as desperate.
Either way, Ponyboy is not going to try to stop him. Despite what the gang seems to think, he does have some sense of self-preservation. It doesn't make much of a difference though, because the man's head snaps up, his gaze swiveling over and narrowing when he sees the kid. Ponyboy wonders what gave him away.
The cash register is empty by now, but the man doesn't look like he's going to make a break for it. He has a witness, and that's dangerous.
Ponyboy scrambles up from his crouch and makes a beeline for the door, but the man is one step ahead of him and grabs him by the back of the jacket. Ponyboy twists out of it, but the man has him by the back of the shirt.
And with a sharp yank, he has Ponyboy by the arm.
"Look," Ponyboy says, surprised that his voice isn't shaking. He certainly feels panicked enough. "I ain't gonna tell nobody. You've got your cash. Get out and make a run for it before someone else sees you."
"Nice try, kid," the man murmurs in his ear. His breath smells like tobacco and stale potato chips. Fighting his gag reflex, Ponyboy hears rustling and somehow knows that the man is pulling out his gun despite the fact that Ponyboy cannot see him.
"You do something, you're bound to get attention," Ponyboy tries again.
The man growls and shoves him up against the window-wall at the front of the store so that he is now facing him. The gun is pressed up against Ponyboy's jaw.
The greaser wonders how he keeps getting himself into these messes as he feels the glass crack slightly under the force.
He hopes that it gets his brother's and Steve's attention. From the sudden shouts outside, he is pretty sure that it has. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve take off around the back where Ponyboy knows the phone is.
"The police are on their way," Ponyboy says despite the gun on his jaw, with a bravado he hadn't known he possessed. "Don't add murder to your list."
The man's eyes are wide and panicky, something that does not ease the fear in Pony's stomach. Ponyboy wants to break eye contact, but he doesn't. Looking away will be submissive, a sign of defeat, and permission to shoot.
The man doesn't break his gaze away either, and Ponyboy realizes that the man's eyes are a cold and unfeeling gray. Ponyboy no longer wants his eyes to be more gray. Not if they will look like that.
Sirens sound off, and the man jumps. He looks around, finding an escape route, before turning back to the greaser he has up against the window.
And for some reason that Ponyboy will never understand, he doesn't shoot. Instead, Ponyboy is lifted from the glass by the front of his shirt and literally thrown into it again.
Glass shatters as his body sails through it, and the man uses the distraction to make an exit. Steve takes note of the direction he runs off in, but Sodapop is too busy shouting his brother's name to care.
"Soda!" Steve shouts when he sees his best friend start at a dead run for his brother. He wants to remind him of the broken glass, but he sees the blood that the rain hasn't yet washed away and he understands.
Sodapop runs to Ponyboy's side, brushing off the few glass shards that landed on—not in, Soda notices, and says a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God or gods may be listening—his brother.
He opens his mouth. He should say something. Anything. Maybe call his brother's name, crack some sort of joke, or even cry because Soda feels that it's all he should be able to do.
But he can't. He's speechless because seeing your brother crash through a glass wall tends to do that to people.
A groan snaps him out of it.
"Pony?" he asks.
"Soda?"
The question is weak and is quickly succeeded by a sharp gasp and a small whimper.
"Sshhh. I'm here, honey. You're okay. Don't move." He can hear Steve in the background talking to Darry and he wonders what he would ever do without him.
Ponyboy cracks a pain-filled smile. "How many times you think I'm gonna get slammed into a wall in my life, Sodapop?"
Soda smiles back. "If it never happens again, it'll be too many."
…..
The third time is, technically speaking, Two-Bit.
It's a rough day for the entire gang, especially Ponyboy. It's been a year since Johnny and Dally died, and Ponyboy is left thinking about the kind of cruel world they're forced to live in when it can go on without them like nothing happened.
And in a week is the Curtis parents' anniversary. But they're gone too.
Ponyboy spends most of the day by himself, wandering around town. He wants to be alone, because everybody else will try to distract him and he doesn't want that yet. And he can't be in the house because it reminds him too much of who isn't there.
When Ponyboy asks if he can go for a walk—telling Darry that he probably wouldn't be home until late—he sees that Darry understands. His older brother nods, tells him to take a jacket and his switchblade just in case and to be home by six.
Ponyboy just nods, grabs the things Darry told him to take, and leaves.
Soda asks him if he wants some company, but Ponyboy shakes his head no and Soda just shoots him a sympathetic smile before nodding in understanding.
Two-Bit finds him two hours later, and decides to tag along. Ponyboy doesn't have the heart to tell him to leave, and Two-Bit really is kind of cheering him up, so the younger greaser lets him be, but he doesn't really listen. He's too distracted.
"Remember that, Ponyboy," Two-Bit is telling him at the conclusion of one of his stories. "When faced with the choice between—KID!"
Ponyboy feels a hand grab his bicep and tear him out of the street just before a speeding Mustang would've quite literally flattened him. But Ponyboy doesn't have time to breathe the sigh of sheer relief he feels before the breath is knocked out of him.
Ponyboy blinks away the momentary dizziness as time catches up to him. The hand is still gripping his bicep tightly, and he follows the hand to an arm to a shoulder and finally sees a pale Two-Bit, who had ripped him out of the street, momentum propelling him backwards into the wall.
Ponyboy shakes his head, trying to clear it. Two-Bit slowly releases his arm. "You okay, Ponyboy?"
Adrenaline is still pumping hard and fast through his system but Ponyboy nods. "Thanks," he says, slightly out of breath.
"Sorry about throwin' ya into the wall."
"It's fine." Ponyboy takes a deep breath and fumbles to light a cigarette.
Two-Bit is looking at him intently, his face still several shades paler than normal. "Kid, we lost two of us a year ago. I ain't itchin' to lose a third."
Ponyboy's hands are shaking and he can't get the cigarette lit. He nods.
…..
The fourth time is Darry, and Ponyboy feels embarrassed and guilty and really, really grateful.
Because he's beating the ever loving crap outta Steve—though Steve is getting in his fair share of punches—and Pony can't even remember why.
He does remember that it had started off with an innocuous question to his brother, asking what he was planning to do that weekend more out of a morbid curiosity than anything else.
"Me and Stevie are goin' to hunt up a poker game Friday night. You wanna come?"
Steve had sighed slightly, and Ponyboy had scowled at him before telling Soda, "Nah. I think I'm goin' to stay home."
And he remembers that it was that satisfied smirk from Steve that had set him off. After that, it was a little cursing, a little more anger, and a whole lot of shouting.
Soda had tried to break up the fight while it was still verbal, but by the time Soda stepped it Steve and Ponyboy were in too deep, and all the pent up anger that they themselves didn't even know they had possessed towards one another started to overflow.
Ponyboy is pretty sure that Steve had made some kind of comment about his parents, startling both of the present Curtis brothers into silence before Ponyboy, in a lethal calm that half-scared his older brother, demanded that Steve take it back. He wouldn't, and Ponyboy is pretty sure that he made some kind of out-of-line comment about Steve's dad.
As far as memory of the incident goes, that's about as much detail as Ponyboy can muster. He doesn't remember who ended up tackling whom first, but it wasn't long before it didn't matter.
Ponyboy is back in shape from track, even better now that the State tournament is in two weeks, and it isn't long before he is on top of Steve and managing to throw more punches than he receives.
It barely registers that Soda is shouting at them to stop. That they nearly knock over Two-Bit as he enters the house.
It takes longer than Ponyboy thought it would for someone to try to pull him away from Steve. He shakes them off. He isn't even sure who it is because all he can see is red, and hears Steve's comment about his parents ringing in his head.
Darry comes home—seconds or minutes after Two-Bit arrived—and shouts in surprise at the fight ensuing on his living room floor. Ponyboy only catches bits and pieces of the shouted conversation between Two-Bit and his brothers.
"Glory! What in the almighty universe is going…"
"…Darry! Ponyboy and Steve just started goin' at…"
"…know, Dar. They were fightin' when I got here…"
"…off of one another. They're gonna tear each other's throats out…"
Ponyboy and Steve are still going at it when a strong pair of hands yank Ponyboy off the older greaser. The youngest Curtis doesn't notice who pulled them away, he just feels the terrifyingly intense rage, and makes a move to go at Steve again before he's being pinned to the wall and Darry steps into his vision.
The look on his oldest brother's face stops Ponyboy cold. It's a whirlwind of emotions: angry, confused, scared, disappointed, worried. Darry doesn't say anything, and Ponyboy can't take that look anymore. He breaks eye contact, his face coloring in shame.
Darry gently takes Ponyboy's chin and turns the younger Curtis's head back towards him, forcing him to make eye contact. This time, Darry's eyes are cautious, but asking a question. Asking him if he's back with them, or if he's going to attack Steve again.
Ponyboy nods, letting Darry know that he's back to his old self again. Darry lets go of him.
The room is eerily silent.
Two-Bit is standing near Steve, who looks about as disoriented as Ponyboy feels. Soda is standing in the middle of the room, looking from Steve to Ponyboy and back again, hurt and confused.
Still, it's Darry's expression that sticks in his mind, because it's a look that wondered who Ponyboy is, because he certainly isn't that tornado of rage that was attacking Steve. And Ponyboy knows that, and maybe that is what scares him the most.
He stays in his room for the remainder of that day and the next, and he apologizes profusely to Soda—and the entire gang can tell he is far more worked up about what happened than he is letting on—and eventually he and Steve make up, and things more or less go back to the way they were.
One week later, Ponyboy thanks Darry for pinning him to the wall.
…
The fifth time results in an all-out food war between the social classes.
It's lunchtime, and Ponyboy walks into the cafeteria for the first time in several months. School is almost out, and all the kids are restless for the start of summer vacation. It doesn't help the growing tension amidst the social classes. It's obvious, even in the cafeteria. Especially in the cafeteria, Ponyboy realizes, as he surveys the room. A lack of adult supervision and the summer heat isn't helping anything.
In fact, if Ponyboy had his way, he wouldn't even be in here. But Two-Bit had ditched today to nurse a hang-over, and the last thing Ponyboy wants to do is pal around with Steve for an entire hour.
He sees a group of fellow greasers from his track team wave him over, and Ponyboy starts towards them.
A Soc immediately walks right into him, causing Ponyboy to stumble back a few steps. He barely manages to keep the food on his tray from sliding off.
"Watch it!" Ponyboy snaps before he can think twice. The Soc whirls around on him and Ponyboy knows—too late—that he's said the wrong thing.
"You watch it, grease," the Soc, who looks to be a junior, growls. "Or next time I may not be so forgivin'."
Ponyboy rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to make one of those comments that usually get him in trouble—he really can't help it—but the Soc doesn't give him the chance. Before Pony can blink, the Soc's hand flies up and knocks the tray out of Pony's hands. It spins mid-air, dumping Ponyboy's lunch onto its owner.
The entire lunch room goes silent, waiting with an odd kind of anticipation to see what's going to happen next. What the embarrassed greaser is going to do.
The Soc is smirking. He takes a finger and gets a glob of the pudding out of his hair and wipes it on the edge of Pony's nose.
Ponyboy's hands are shaking in embarrassment and anger, clenching into fists. The Socs "oooh" and laugh.
Pony snaps.
He shoves the Soc, hard, across the aisle way. He stumbles back a few steps before glaring hatefully at Pony. The older boy launches himself at the younger, ramming him up against the wall. Ponyboy's breath whooshes out of his lungs. The Soc punches him in the face once. Twice. Three times. He's too dizzy to fight back.
"Hey!"
The few greasers on Pony's track team stand up and run over, yanking the Soc off of him. One of them—Jack, a senior—looks over his shoulder, silently asking if Ponyboy's okay. Pony nods.
"Leave him alone," another of the team warns.
"Aw, so precious." The Soc laughs mockingly. "The team protecting one another. I'm touched. Really," he says sarcastically.
One of the juniors smiles thinly. "When we're done, Tom, you're the one that's gonna need protectin'." It's all the warning the Soc—who Ponyboy now knows is Tom—has before his face collides with a fist.
Ponyboy watches a group of Socs stand up and run over to help their friend. And then it's pandemonium.
Because other greasers come over to help out and join in the fight, which in turn brings other Socs to help even out the odds, which brings more greasers, and so on. Ponyboy is grateful that an unusual amount of greasers are in the cafeteria that day. It doesn't take long before the entire room is fighting one another. The girls—Socs and greaser girls alike—have fled, and the middle class has split in half.
Ponyboy's caught up with his own Soc, but he sees a ham sandwich land on Tom's head. Ponyboy can't help it: he laughs. Really hard.
"FOOD FIGHT!" someone screams barbarically. The fists stop flying and there's a still moment before chaos returns as people scramble to get their hands on any and all food available. Ponyboy runs over towards one side of the cafeteria with all the greasers.
Ponyboy ducks under a table for cover. He sees a baloney sandwich land next to him, and he thinks briefly of Johnny. He wonders what Johnny would think about this, if he would take part.
He knows Dally would.
Ponyboy rolls out from under the table long enough to jump up and throw the sandwich to the other side before taking cover again. Though it's faint, mostly drown out by the sound of shouting, he hears the cafeteria doors open and his principal shouting at them to stop.
Nobody does. They're too wrapped up in it.
Ponyboy realizes that he's probably in a heck of a lot of trouble. Eventually, the food fight will stop and the principal will demand answers and all of the Socs will point to Ponyboy. The only refuge Ponyboy can take in is the fact that the principal is usually fair, and that maybe he will blame Tom and not Ponyboy once he hears both sides.
But Pony knows that his hoping is futile at best, and that either way Darry is going to chew him out. Ponyboy knows that he ought to be worried as heck. But he isn't, because a part of him can't deny that he's having fun. A lot of it.
But he hears the doors open again, watches teachers file in and start handing out suspensions, and Ponyboy ducks out of the cafeteria before any of them see him.
He walks to the parking lot and starts thinking. He can't go home because lunch is almost over. But he needs to clean up enough that teachers won't ask if he was part of the food fight. The questions will come, but Ponyboy hopes that it will be from the unbiased principal instead of a Soc-praising teacher.
The adrenaline has worn off by now, and Ponyboy winces as his nose throbs painfully. Ponyboy touches it and his fingers come away red. Ponyboy groans. Glory, how am I gonna tell Darry? he thinks, when he sees it at a distance.
Steve's car.
Ponyboy looks through the window to the inside and sees a towel. Ponyboy says a silent prayer that the car isn't locked. Ponyboy tries the handle and the door swings open. He gives a gleeful cheer, snatching the towel and getting the pudding and other various foods out of his hair and off of his skin. He throws the towel back in, hoping that Steve doesn't notice it until tomorrow.
Ponyboy—hyper aware that he has about ten minutes before his next class—sprints all the way to the locker rooms where he has a spare jacket and change of pants. He changes quickly—beating his own record—and sprints back to the classroom.
He makes it to his locker in record time.
"Curtis!"
Ponyboy turns and sees another of the guys on his track team—John, who is in his grade. Ponyboy laughs at his appearance. He's drenched in what Ponyboy assumes is milk, but he's grinning.
"Where ya been, Curtis?" John asks good-naturedly. "Ya missed all the fun!" He winks, and Ponyboy knows that John knows where he went.
"You get suspended?" Ponyboy asks as he closes his locker.
John shrugs. "Yeah, but it was worth it. Man. That was so tuff!"
Ponyboy laughs in agreement. "It was somethin' alright. Hey," he says suddenly. "Thanks for stickin' up for me back there."
John shrugs. "We weren't about to lose our star runner a week before State. 'Sides, I think it should be I who thanks you, because it's been a while since I've had that much fun."
Ponyboy smiles. "Thank Tom. None of it would've happened if he hadn't rammed me into the wall."
….
The time that Ponyboy slams someone else into a wall, it feels really. Really. Good.
"Darry!" Steve shouts from their front yard, bringing the requested greaser, his youngest brother, and Two-Bit outside. Ponyboy lets out a gasp as he takes in the sight before him. Apparently, it's louder than he intended, because Soda—who is leaning heavily on Steve with a hand clamped firmly on his right side, blood seeping through his shirt and hand—looks up and gives a weak smile.
Darry moves first, sprinting the short distance to his brother's side. "Soda." Darry's hands hover, because he really isn't sure what to do.
"H-hey, Dar," Soda manages. He winces. Ponyboy runs forward.
"What happened?" Darry is asking as his youngest brother skids to a stop at his side.
Soda must really be leaning heavily on Steve, because Steve staggers for a second under the weight.
"Those…Socs…" Soda says breathily.
That's all the explanation the gang needs. There is a group of Socs—about 4 or 5 of them—that have been targeting their gang. Steve was their first target, and the greaser ended up with a broken nose and three cracked ribs. Two-Bit was jumped by them a week later and ended up with a real bad knife wound in his arm. Ponyboy was jumped only three days after that and ended up with two fractured ribs and several small cuts on his face. Pony would have been worse if Darry hadn't come along.
And now they had gotten to Soda.
"How?" Darry demands.
"Later, Dar," Steve says with a kind of force people very rarely had the courage to use when speaking with the oldest greaser. "Soda needs a hospital. And he needs it now."
Darry's about to start at a dead sprint for the house to get the keys when he realizes something. "Soda, you had the truck."
Soda laughs weakly. "Yeah…about that…"
Steve is glaring at Soda, and Ponyboy blinks because Steve never glares at Soda. Steve growls, "not the time, bud."
Two-Bit, who had been in a bit of a daze on the porch, runs forward. "Darry."
Darry turns and instinctively catches the car keys Two-Bit throws to him.
Ponyboy is surprised, though he knows he probably shouldn't be, at how fast Darry can drive. He focuses on the speedometer for no reason except that Pony is trying very hard not to hear Soda's shallow gasps and Steve's low voice.
They make it to the hospital, and Ponyboy is thinking that he finally understands the meaning behind the phrase "flurry of movement". It isn't until he's sitting the waiting room of the hospital, and Darry kneels in front of him that reality really catches up.
"Oh kiddo," Darry sighs, because even though his youngest brother isn't crying, it is evident that Pony is trying very hard not to. Darry offers him a small, sad smile, pats the kid's knee, and stands. Two-Bit is sitting next to Ponyboy, and he blows out a breath and leans forward.
"He's gonna be okay, kid," Two-Bit says, but he's not looking at him. He's staring straight ahead. "He is."
Ponyboy takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Yeah." And he means it, if only because he really can't afford to believe anything else.
Steve comes in then, and Ponyboy wonders where he had been and is surprised that he didn't even remember Steve going anywhere in the first place. He isn't given much time to think about it though, before Darry is standing in front of Steve, his arms crossed.
"Explain."
"Soda wanted to be the one to tel—"
"Steve," Darry growls, cutting him off. "Now."
Steve doesn't need much more prompting before he launches into his story. "We were in the truck on our way over from the DX when the Soc cuts us off in the middle of the road and stops, nearly driving me and Sodapop off it. We didn't have a blasted clue who it was or I swear I wouldn't have let him, Dar, but Soda jumps out swearin' up a storm. Soda's almost at the guy's car door when the Soc steps out, and by the time I've scrambled out of the truck the…" Steve's hands ball into fists, his eyes burning with renewed fury, and manages through clenched teeth: "the Soc stabs Sodapop with his switch, and takes off in his car. By the time I reach Soda, they've ran off in their Mustang and plow right into the truck! It ain't totaled, but it ain't drivable yet." Steve starts cussing out the Socs, and none of the gang tries to stop him.
Ponyboy feels his own hands fist. He isn't sure whether he's feeding off of Steve's anger or it's entirely his own, but Ponyboy is pretty sure that he has never been this furious.
"I need a smoke," he says suddenly, standing up and pushing past Darry who is too shocked by the story and his brother's reaction to stop him.
It wouldn't occur to Two-Bit until several hours later after Ponyboy came back that the kid had complained about smoking his last pack not ten minutes before they had rushed Sodapop to the hospital….
Ponyboy makes it outside and, for the first time that day, realizes just how cold it is. But he also doesn't care, because the biting chill has nothing on the burning anger inside him. Yelling through gritted teeth, he kicks an empty Coke bottle as hard as he can. It skids across the street, but not near as far as Pony wanted.
Pony isn't sure he's ever felt this wave of emotion before. The anger and fear and frustration and helplessness are slowly clawing up Pony's throat and a sob escapes him before he fights to control it.
Then he sees him.
The leader of that trashy good-for-nothing Soc pack that nearly killed his brother. Suddenly, Pony's tears disappear and all of his emotions blend into one: a fierce and icy hatred.
"Hey!" Pony shouts and runs over to him. The Soc stops and turns, looking confused and not in the least bit concerned. He should be, Pony thinks.
"What, grease? Lookin' for another good jumping?" he sneers.
"So you remember me. And my brother. And my gang."
The Soc smirks. "Come to beg for mercy? I bet your brother's askin' for it."
Ponyboy loses it. He whips around and slams the Soc into the wall with as much force and he can muster.
"Woah, man," the Soc stammers, suddenly terrified, but whether that's because he finally sees the raw hatred in Pony's eyes or for some other reason, Ponyboy doesn't know. "I-I-I get that you're mad—"
"Mad?" Ponyboy grits out between clenched teeth. He wasn't mad. He was furious. Livid. Enraged. Even that didn't begin to cover it. "Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet."
"J-J-Just calm down and we can ta—"
Ponyboy, still keeping the Soc pinned against the wall, flips out his switchblade and feels a vindictive pleasure in seeing the Soc's eyes widen in fear.
"Please don't kill me."
Ponyboy feels a harsh, bitter laugh escape him. It doesn't sound like himself, but at this moment he doesn't care. He really doesn't.
"Sure," Ponyboy snaps sarcastically. "Because you showed such concern for my brother when you nearly killed him."
"I-I-I-I don't know what you're talkin' about, man—"
Ponyboy presses the blade up against the Soc's throat, cutting him off. "Don't give me that crap. If you or your buddies ever come after my gang again, it'll be you that'll beg for mercy." Ponyboy really means it. He isn't entirely sure where the sudden valor, where the surge of protectiveness, is coming from, but he really and truly means it. "That's a promise. Got it?"
The Soc's eyes are huge, but he nods shakily. Ponyboy roughly lets him go. He doesn't need to prompt the Soc, because he frantically scrambles to his feet and takes off down the street. Calmly, Ponyboy slides his switchblade back into his pocket and walks back to the hospital.
Darry looks up at him as he approaches the gang, scanning his younger brother for any signs that he was hurt. The only thing Darry finds off-setting is Pony's eerie calm. He's never seen his younger brother like that.
"Kiddo?" Darry asks. "Where did ya go?"
"Just…down the street a little. Stretching my legs and all that," Ponyboy offers.
Two-Bit quirks an eyebrow. "You said you were going for a smoke."
"Right. That. I didn't have any. But I'm fine."
Darry's eyes widen, and Ponyboy winces slightly because he knows that his oldest brother has just put the pieces together.
"You didn't…" Darry said.
Pony offers a weak smile. "I don't think they'll be bothering us anymore." He isn't entirely sure that the Soc took his threat seriously, but he certainly meant it, and the Soc—for his part—seemed to realize that.
Darry groans. "Pone, what did you do?"
"Nothing, Dar!"
"Ponyboy…" This time, it's Two-Bit. The youngest Curtis turns to face him. He looks a lot like he did when Ponyboy was threatening to split the Socs with the broken pop bottle last year…
Pony's saved by the doctor, who comes in asking for family of Sodapop Curtis. All of the gang stands and walks over to him, and all breathe the same collective sigh of relief when the first words out of the doctor's mouth are, "Mr. Sodapop will be perfectly fine."
The doctor tells them that the wound had looked much deeper than it was, and though serious, should not have any long-term damage save for a small scar. And that they could go in and see him if they wanted to and he was in room 141.
As they make their way through the hall, Steve catches up to Ponyboy, who is out of earshot of Darry. "So, kid, what did you do?"
Ponyboy offered him a small smile as they reached the room. "You'd be surprised what you could do with a brick wall and a blade, Steve," he said before pushing the door open.
…
I feel iffy on this…reviews would be really appreciated. Really. So…please review?