Note: Another attempt at a drabble. Only this time I fail. Its over a 100 words.
Disclaimer: Hinton owns all.
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Ponyboy had been nine, at that time. He'd found the raccoon hobbling in the backyard, it's leg bleeding from a dog bite, he'd presumed. He'd taken it inside the house and made a bed for it out of an old shoe box and kitchen towels. His mother hadn't been too thrilled. Kitchen towels didn't come cheap.
He'd come home from school one day to find the box in the trash can and the raccoon nowhere to be found. He'd thought his mother had done it, until Darry had confessed it'd been him.
"It probably had fleas and other diseases." His tone had been matter of fact. "Besides we can't afford to feed a wild animal."
He'd known that anyway, and hadn't really cared. The creature was hurt.
It was then Ponyboy realized, how much Darry, just didn't understand him.
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