A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination.
"I've been called up. My number was drawn last night." Soda's face was pale, and he didn't look up from his glass of chocolate milk.
"Are you sure it wasn't a fluke? Maybe they said a different number, and you thought it was yours." I pushed my plate of chocolate cake away, suddenly feeling sick.
"It was 283, Pony. That's mine, I know it. October eighth is 283."
"You'll have to go in for a physical, I think." Darry said, swirling the dregs of his coffee around the mug.
"I'll have to do a lot of things." Soda pushed away from the table and went to our room.
"Will you go too, Darry?"
"I don't think so. There's a law or something that exempts me because I'm your guardian. I'll just bring that up when I go in."
"D'you think I'll go?"
"I hope not. For your sake, I hope not."
We didn't hear anything else until February, when an official-looking letter came for Soda. He sat down before tearing into it. I watched his eyes flick over the paper and turn dark and cold. "I won't go."
"What's it for?" Darry asked, wiping his hands on a dishrag.
"It's for the physical. I'm not going."
"But it says 'If you fail to report for examination as directed, you may be declared delinquent and ordered to report for induction into the Armed Forces. You will also be subject to fine and imprisonment under the Military Selective Service Act of 1967.' You can't get out of this, Soda." Darry had taken the letter, and scanned it carefully.
"What if he objects?" I wondered softly.
"He still has to report for a physical. That's the bare minimum requirement. Maybe Steve or Two-Bit will go along too."
"They will, 'cuz their numbers were called, like mine." Soda kicked the envelope away from his chair. "I just wish we didn't have to."
I had to leave for my classes, so I wasn't able to see Soda off when he was scheduled to report for the physical. That ate me up, but I couldn't do a thing about it. Darry said I needed to finish my education, and he hated the thought of me cutting class just to keep Soda company. That day, there was a huge group of people gathered in the courtyard, singing We Shall Overcome, Where Have all the Flowers Gone?, and If I Had a Hammer, while others chanted profanity-laced refrains toward the policemen in riot gear. I hurried inside with "Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh! the NLF is going to win!" echoing in my head. I was so distracted by the commotion that I didn't see one of my professors walking toward me, and I almost knocked him over. "Is something wrong, Mr. Curtis?"
"Um, not really, Dr. Golding. I mean, unless you count that crowd out there. I feel sorry for the police who have to stand there and take all the abuse." I shook my head to get the tangled words and melodies out.
"I suppose you would sympathize with them, since you really don't know what's going on over there."
"What d'you mean? I know all about the war. We're fighting against Communism, and that's good. Humanity can't survive under that system; it oppresses everyone except the party in power. Just look at the USSR for proof."
"If you could, would you fight, Mr. Curtis?"
"In a heartbeat. My brother just went in for his physical today. His number was called up. I have other friends going too, and I think they're going for a worthy cause."
"That's what my brother said before he was killed in Korea. You think about the cost of war, son. It isn't all sunshine and lollipops; it's Hell. Remember that when your brother and friends go over, and I hope to God you don't follow them." Dr. Golding walked off, leaving me confused and a bit irritated.
"I know what it's like, Cathy, and he made me feel stupid! I can't just take his word for everything, you know?"
"I know, Pony, but maybe he's right to a certain extent. I mean, both our dads were war vets, and it isn't easy just being dropped someplace new and being expected to kill people. That's why so many of those boys crack up. They just can't take it. How'd Soda's physical go?"
"He passed with flying colors, but he isn't happy about it."
"Have you asked him why?"
"I should, but I haven't yet. They're on the way home right now with dinner."
"Keep me posted if you find out, okay? I have to let you go now, I'm swamped with homework."
"Okay, bye, Cathy. See you tomorrow."
"Bye, Pony." I hung up the phone, twisting the cord around my finger. Cathy was such a sweet girl, and she'd been my girlfriend for almost three years. I wanted desperately to tell her I loved her, but I always chickened out at the last minute. I never told anyone about that. The only person who wouldn't have laughed at me was Johnny, and he was dead; forever sixteen. "The world has changed so much since you left, Johnnycake." I whispered, hoping he could somehow hear me. I missed him so much, it hurt sometimes.
Darry and Soda came home, arms laden with carryout bags from Lotus Garden, a Chinese place we liked. "Get the plates out, Pony. If we wait too much longer, the food'll get cold." I walked to the kitchen, smiling at Soda as I passed him. "What are you looking at?" he demanded.
"You. I like your sweater."
"It makes me look like a Soc." He lamented grumpily.
"I like it anyway." I set the plates and glasses on the table and had a silent conversation with Darry, mostly filled with looks and discreet head turns. I didn't bother Soda after that. Dinner was quiet; an unusual occurrence in our house, and I didn't stick around too long. I had homework as an excuse to avoid the uncomfortable silence. I turned on the radio to combat the heaviness in the air, but it didn't help. Suicide is Painless really isn't a good song for when you're trying to get your mind off your problems. I switched the music off and lost myself in my homework. I didn't even hear Soda come in and sit next to me.
"Oh, hey." I said, starting a little when I finally saw him sitting there. "What brings you to my side of the room?"
"Can we talk?" Soda's eyes hadn't changed from their dark shade, and his voice, though soft, was flat.
"Sure, let me just close the door real quick." I shut my books as well. "What'd you want to talk about?"
"It's about the draft, Pony. Y'know, I'm supposed to be your big brother, and not dump my problems on you, but I have to tell somebody. I'm scared."
"About what, Soda?" I chewed on a pen cap.
"All of it- the fighting, the uncertainty, the dying… I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if it's right."
"Why didn't you tell Darry about this?"
"Are you kidding? You're the only one I can trust. The only one who'll care about how I'm feeling. I saw how you looked at me earlier. You wanted to ask, didn't you?"
"Yeah. Soda, d'you think war is ever right? I mean, even if we fight with good intentions, does that make going somewhere and killing complete strangers the right thing to do?"
"I dunno. I was gonna ask you that, to be honest."
"Well, it looks like we both have something to mull over, huh."
"Yeah. At least I won't go alone; the other guys passed too."
"So, y'all are officially 1-A now. When d'you leave?"
"They said sometime in May, I think. If I die over there, will you make sure I'm buried with Mom and Dad?"
"Yeah, I'll do that."
Soda shipped off for induction in the middle of May, like they said. Two-Bit and Steve went with him, and Darry and I saw them off. They were stationed in the A Shau Valley and Cambodia, but none of them ever talk about what they did there. Darry was rejected because of his status as my legal guardian, and was able to see me graduate college with a Bachelor's in English. I went back for my teaching license once I was rejected because of an old track injury. Soda, Two-Bit, and Steve all came home in 1975, but none of them were quite the same as before. Soda grew withdrawn and developed a drinking problem, Steve returned with a few VDs and a heroin addiction, and Two-Bit just couldn't seem to make any of his marriages work. We've tried nearly everything to help them, and the VA is doing all they can, but life is hard, war is Hell, and it's difficult to stay gold.