S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Please review.

Two-Bit was the one who told me.

He'd been palling around with the kid a lot lately, or as much as anyone could. I guess that's how he found out before me. We all sorta had been keeping tabs on Ponyboy, but it seemed like these days it was out of habit and necessity rather than us just buddying around. It was like we were clinging to better times that weren't all that much better. But Two-Bit, in all his nervous energy and wisecracking, seemed to have a soft spot for him.

He jumped right next to my seat in the booth, the ripped red vinyl feeling rough under my fingertips. Sweet Dee's Diner was a ghost town, just me and my burger and fries, with the fries drowning in ketchup. Two-Bit didn't say anything as he sat down next to me. His sideburns were still long and red but again, it seemed like he just kept them there for the tried and true, out of habit and not because he really liked them anymore.

I was on my fourth beer at that point. The lady at the diner seemed a bit reluctant to give me any at all that early in the day but I wasn't in the mood to be messed with and eventually she complied. I'd definitely had many more drinks in my time, but at this point, I was a bit more buzzed than I'd care to admit. Yeah, it's real sad to be drinking alone but in those days, I didn't have much else to do and I sure as shit didn't have anyone to drink with me.

"I was with Pony today," Two-Bit said to me. No introductions. At the mention of the kid, my ears perked up a bit. "He seemed okay. Happy, even."

"Good for him," I replied gruffly, trying to sound like I didn't care, though Two-Bit and I both knew that any animosity between me and Ponyboy at this point was just a formality, a way to cling onto the simplicity of the way things were before. Even though I really needed to pop off my rose-colored glasses. Things had been shit always.

"I, uh, well...I guess I wanna be the bearer of good news, Stevie." He flashed a grin my way. A real, honest-to-god, shit-eating grin. "I mean, Christ, we sure could use some these days, huh?"

Beers forgotten about, I sat back in my chair and tried to ignore the squeaks it gave. I fumbled with the cigarette that was resting behind my ear and considered lighting it, but I looked at Two-Bit instead. Something about his gaze was keeping my attention more than a menthol ever could. He was buzzing and that was a good thing at this time.

"They found him." God, help me. I felt myself sit up straight. The invisible hand that had been wrapped around my chest for almost a year now was relenting for the first time. "He's comin' back, man. Sodapop fuckin' Curtis, man. He'll be back in a month at most."

When Sodapop told me he had been drafted, the first thing I'd wanted to do was follow him. Sign up too. I was just about ready to march to wherever the hell I was supposed to go, maybe march straight into my own death, but it was something about the way Pony looked when I mentioned it that kept me back.

I'd followed Soda to his house that day like it was any other day. We'd been goofing off at the DX for a good portion of the shift and while the threat of Vietnam was always there, it was in the background. Out of sight and out of mind. We all knew that Darry watched the news each night for reports, nervously perusing the draft lottery. But for us, we'd only been worried about girls and cars and fights. Ponyboy probably worried about school or some shit like that.

Soda had had this smile throughout work and an easygoing cadence in his voice when he smooth talked girls, Soc and greaser alike. I don't consider myself a jealous person, but sometimes I felt green with envy when I was made aware of how effortlessly good-looking he was. How all the girls crawled all over him and how I was just Sodapop's best friend. Sure, I had Evie, sometimes. But still, I didn't have much going for me in the looks and smarts department, but that was okay because he was my friend and that hadn't mattered to him.

I always prided myself on being Sodapop's best friend - he was tuff, and he dug me like few had before. I liked to think that I knew him well. But this time, I'd had no idea that something was wrong until we'd walked in the door.

We'd sat on the couch and when he'd turned to me, it was like someone flipped on a switch. I was suddenly looking at a completely new person than just a few minutes before. His eyes were very red, and he'd somehow looked old and young at the same time, kinda how Darry always had looked.

"Listen...I gotta tell you somethin'."

I'd hated how much that had made me anxious. "Okay, man," I'd said, trying to keep things light because even though Soda was always the bawl baby out of the two of us and it wasn't anything new, it was never fun seeing him this worked up. Hours of Sandy-fueled heartbreak was enough to testify for that. "Shoot."

He had tried to inhale there but it was shaky. He had been biting his lip like he was trying to figure out how to keep it all together, so hard that I was afraid it would bleed. "I, uh...I got my notice. My number's up."

This paralyzing and absolutely horrible feeling of fear just completely took over me. I'd completely tensed up then, my back aching with how much my muscles suddenly had contracted, almost like I was hunched up in a ball. "Jesus...Shit. Shit." was all I could think to say.

His face at that point had completely crumpled. He'd stood up then, so fast that I thought he was gonna sway and topple over right there. I wasn't much of a hugger, but I'd gathered him in my arms and he was almost screaming in my shoulder.

Just as soon as the wave of anguish came, it had gone. He'd pulled himself away, giving me a thankful pat on the shoulders and then sniffled. "It's real brave, what they do. It's real brave." He'd been talking about the soldiers, the American boys who had no choice but to go over there. Maybe he was right, but I'd had no way of knowing for sure. When he had said this, I'd had a hard time telling if he was trying to convince me or himself.

"Have you...have you told Pony and Darry yet?" I'd had so many questions, like When do you leave? How long will you be there? How can we know you're gonna be okay?

Another crack in the foundation, but Sodapop had still remained relatively calm. "Not yet. I can't...not yet. Thing's are goin' so good, man. I ain't itchin' to put a stop to it. I just...I just wanna pretend everything's alright. At least for just a little bit longer."

I'd wanted to cry but I didn't. I hadn't been able to say much in response to that. That was the thing with me. While Soda liked to bottle everything up until he was bursting at the seams when something awful was happening, I just shut down. I didn't say anything and I went all quiet-like. I don't think anything I could have said would have been able to fix this mess anyway.

Something deep inside felt kinda good about being the first one who he told.

"You're gonna have to tell them soon, Soda. I mean, this ain't exactly somethin' you can spring on them when you're halfway to the jungle."

My words must have been what cut him deep, because after that, he'd collapsed on the couch and only was able to rally when we'd heard the sounds of Darry's truck pulling into the street and parking next to the curb.

I never considered myself a jealous person.

I would never say this to him, and I'd deny it if anyone was a fool enough to ask, but I was kinda jealous of the kid, Pony. A long time ago he'd been, to me, just another tag-along kid who got into trouble and had to follow all of us around and we always had to be nice to him because he was Soda's kid brother, and Soda would smile this 1000 watt smile like all the things the kid did that were annoying were things that Sodapop just couldn't get enough of. Kid always had his nose in a book or in someone's business. But he had this connection to Sodapop, one that no one else seemed to be able to replicate. Soda was always my brother, but not by blood. I was always a little jealous of the kid because of that.

Pony'd clenched the draft notice letter in his hand tightly and threw it back on the table before bolting for the door. I should have seen this coming - the kid had always liked to run away from his problems. That was something I could relate to. We'd all just numbly watched him go.

Darry had been completely wrecked. His face had been white and he hadn't even tried to stop Ponyboy from running out. Instead, he'd sagged weakly against the old wooden chair in the kitchen and sighed the sigh of a dejected old man. I'd truly felt for Darry then, and I'd never wanted more to be anywhere else in my life. Darry had thrown away his entire life to raise healthy and somewhat happy kids and now something beyond anyone's control was taking one away from him.

Sodapop had still been crying on and off, and his eyes had seemed to be in a permanent state of bloodshot. He'd hobbled around the kitchen, the smell of chocolate cake or blue eggs or anything warm and inviting noticeably absent.

I hadn't a clue what made me do what I did next, but I could tell Darry and Sodapop needed to talk, and bad. I'd scooped my keys off the countertop and said, "I'll, uh...I'll be back."

They hadn't acknowledged me either when I said that, but that was okay. I had walked out wordlessly. I'd still felt like there was a hole in my chest, or that I had been punched in the stomach by a Soc wearing knuckle dusters or something.

I'd hopped in my car then, the engine rumbling drowning out the rigid and extremely discernible lack of sound coming from inside the house. I'd turned up my car radio, loud, though I couldn't tell you what I had been listening to. I just knew that my eyes had filled with tears since the first time I got the news and before I had started driving, I'd haphazardly stuffed a cigarette in my mouth and started pounding the dashboard with my fist so hard that my knuckles started bleeding and I'd put a dent in it.

My car had seemed to screech when I pulled it out of North St. Louis Ave, and I'd started driving anywhere and nowhere, unable to think. Nothing had been right and everything had been wrong. For the first time ever, I'd almost wished that I'd been with my dad, and that he'd been ragging on me or punching me or something, 'cause while him doing that never made sense, it was something I'd been more than used to. I'd felt like my world had just been thrown ass over teakettle.

I'd found Pony, eventually. He was predictable and had areas he'd like to frequent. He didn't know that I knew this, but I was more perceptive than anyone ever gave me credit for. I'd run a hand through my dark hair, smoothed over by grease. He'd been sitting on the curb for god knows how long when I'd gotten there. In the place where it all began, right outside the park by the fountain.

His eyes had been red too, and for a second I'd been completed blindsided by just how much he looked like Sodapop. He'd looked up to me and it hadn't seemed like he was surprised that I was there.

"I shoulda known this would happen," he'd said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. There was a cigarette dangling in his mouth, and it hadn't been ashed or touched, just left to burn. "I mean, hell, Steve, it's any boy over eighteen, these days."

"Shit, kid. None of us coulda knew."

He'd dropped the cigarette then, stamping it out under his shoe. I didn't know if it was my words that had caused it, but next he had shoved his hands into his eyes, almost like he hadn't wanted me to see him cry.

He'd reminded me of Soda so much at that moment and it was the first time I'd ever really been able to see it. He'd done the same thing Sodapop had earlier, biting down on his lip hard, but this time, there actually had been some blood. Without thinking, he'd wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"I know, I just...well, I reckon...I feel I shoulda known, is all. Been able to stop it from happening, somehow. It's real stupid."

I'd realized then just how gripped with fear he also was. How I wasn't the only one who was just so goddamned pissed off and scared, and how I hadn't wanted to be left behind to wallow in the remains of something I'd once held so dear. Sodapop, Darry, Two-Bit, even Ponyboy...well, they were the only ones I'd had in the entire world.

"It ain't, Pone," I'd said, sounding much nicer than I had felt. If only Soda had been there to see me and his kid brother really dig each other for the first time I think ever.

I hadn't been the only one whose world had changed, had the ground beneath their feet ripped from under them. I'd taken a deep breath to get my thoughts in order, to keep myself from bearing my soul to some punk-ass kid. He'd been trying to stop himself from bawling the entire time. "Look, I'm...I'm gonna go, too, I think."

There was one image I never would be able to erase from my mind, and it was the completely shellshocked look on his face as I'd said this.

"What?"

"I'm gonna go. Enlist. Fight the good fight so your brother ain't alone." So I wouldn't be left alone.

Silence, and then: "So, what?" There was a wicked gleam in his eye. "So we can throw you a funeral too?"

I had been floored, to say the least. I'd never peg this naive little shit to say something so full of vitriol, even if I did reckon that one day he'd become hard, just like Dally, just like many greasers before him. He'd seemed like he couldn't believe he'd said it either and shoved his face in his hands. I felt like he'd been acting a lot like me in that second. I kept quiet and shut down when things went wrong, seething with an unbearable rage, but when I did talk, it was like I always said the wrong thing.

I'd smacked him upside the head for that and he hadn't even moved or acknowledged it. "Jesus Christ." I'd felt completely gutted. "How could say that shit, huh? What the hell is the matter with you?"

There were no words for what expression he wore on his face, and it was something god-awful. "Sorry," was all he'd said in a strained voice. "I ain't too sure what's wrong with me."

"It's okay, Ponyboy." I patted him on the back and squeezed his shoulder.

Soda had left, sent off to Fort Sill and then, Vietnam or Laos or Cambodia, or who knows. With him he'd taken a direct deposit slip, his driver's license, the clothes on his back, an ugly haircut, and the promise that he'd come back, safe and sound.

I hadn't been too keen on watching him interact with his brothers, but I'd been informally indoctrinated into this family long ago and now I'd had no choice. Pony had hugged him so tight he wouldn't let go. Darry hadn't cried, though you could tell by the way he'd stuffed his hands in his pockets that he was like the eye of the hurricane—calm, but any shift off its axis would bring about a monumental storm.

It'd been about 5:15 in the morning when Darry had left to take him. I'd joined in, of course, and Pony had wanted to as well, but Darry had barked out a firm no and Pony had shriveled up and remained behind. He'd had class that day, after all, though I hadn't doubted that he'd skip and that Two-Bit would take him to the Admiral Twin for a double feature instead. I had thought it was harsh of Darry to deny this to the kid, but I figured that seeing both his brothers in the same place, at Basic Training, would be too hard on him and this was something he had needed to do alone - send off one kid brother to something dark and looming and inevitable, something we had known so little about.

Soda hadn't looked nervous, but it was obviously a front. We'd all been able to see that, but no one would ever point it out. "You'll look out for them, huh, Stevie? Make sure they don't go at each others' throats too bad?"

I'd had to swallow and blink a ton. My best friend hadn't looked like my best friend and this version of him, this makeshift and beaten to hell version of him, was not what I had wanted to remember him by in case he...well, in case he...

"'Course I will, Sodapop." My words were a lot braver than I had felt. "I'll look out for 'em. Make sure the kid ain't too much of a smartass and that Superdope lightens up every once in a while."

Sodapop had laughed at what I'd said, but it was breathy and unfamiliar. "Thanks, man. I...well, shit. I don't think I coulda ever made it this far without you."

I'd swallowed convulsively at that, everything feeling tight and my eyes burning. There had been so much I'd wanted to say, that he'd saved my ass more times than I could count, that his house had always been a sanctuary, and that I didn't know what I'd do if he didn't come back. "Just worry about yourself out there, okay, pal? And write."

I'd still wanted to follow along, shave my tuff, tuff hair down to stubble and get my ass handed to me by a drill sergeant if it meant he wasn't going to be fighting alone. Then I'd imagined how the gang had gone from seven to four now with Sodapop leaving. I hadn't wanted to make it three. I'd kept hearing, "So we can throw you a funeral too?" and for once, my loyalties had been divided.

We'd kept tabs on Ponyboy. Two-Bit and me.

Darry had lost his mind in the time Sodapop was gone.

Me and Two-Bit and Pony had been walking up to the house and had been made aware, once again, how much life was falling apart for the two of them. Darry hadn't been able to cope, skipping days at a time at work, to the point where Pony had to get a part-time job to help keep things afloat. They'd had Sodapop's salary coming in to help them, but it hadn't always been enough.

Me and Two-Bit had to sneak money into Pony's wallet when we thought he hadn't been paying attention. It was never much, just a buck here and there. He hadn't been watching movies much those days, always picking up shifts and even had taken on doing the bills for Darry instead.

I hadn't faulted Darry, not at all. It hadn't occurred to me to ever even be mad at him, but I had truly hated the way Pony was collapsing under the stress. His eyes had always been darkened by circles and he'd been pale. It felt to me that I'd be breaking Soda's promise if I didn't intervene and say something.

Two-Bit had been thinking the same thing as me. I could tell, though we'd never talked about it. "Say, Pony, how would you like to catch a movie tonight? My treat?"

"Can't." He'd shrugged his backpack off and prepared to change into his work uniform. He was a busser at some dive on the East side. "I work tonight until 12."

He'd been balancing school and work in the ensuing months since Soda had left. His fingers had been constantly stained with ink from reading the newspapers and rereading letters Sodapop had written. That day, we'd all been a little on edge because it was that time of the month that we usually all got our letters, but so far there hadn't been a peep.

We'd noticed the pungent scent of mildew, the way the siding on the house was in tatters, and how the usually sparkling interior was littered in trash. Christ, if the state had come around...

"Say, Ponyboy," Two-Bit had tried again. "I haven't seen Muscles around here in some time...Is he—"

"Busy. He, uh...Well, he's workin' extra hard these days. You know how it goes."

Jesus Christ. He'd looked ready to keel over right there. He'd told us all that his part-time job was truly part-time, but judging by the way his shoulders remained perpetually hunched and how he'd almost melted into the couch, and how he'd been working 4 pm-12 am shifts on school nights, well, I hadn't been sure. Word had it from Tim Shepard that Darry wasn't always where he'd said he would be, frequenting little bars around Tulsa.

I'd gone into the kitchen to start doing the dishes that had piled up. The kid was a pain in the ass and a proverbial thorn in my side but he hadn't needed this kind of pressure at almost seventeen. He'd seemed a bit too much like Darry used to be that it just wasn't normal. While I had used to hate the way the kid was scatterbrained and idealistic, always with his head in the clouds, seeing him worked like a dog with the world on his shoulders wasn't a compromise that I'd ever like.

I hadn't been listening to their conversation that had been filtering through from the cluttered living room. Instead, I'd been focusing on the water that was too cold (I'd made a mental note to see if their water bill had been paid on time) and was thinking of my best friend in such a foreign land. I'd hoped he'd been thinking only of himself and keeping himself safe, but I'd known that his heart would always be in Tulsa. I'd been letting my thoughts wander, thinking about the Socs I'd wanted to pound, the hippies I'd have gladly stomped, and the times I'd been able to spend with Sodapop, with Dally, with Johnny...I'd noticed that I'd started thinking like Sodapop was dead, and I'd gripped a plate so hard I thought I'd almost shattered it.

That had been when I'd heard the commotion from the living room. There was a loud crash of something hitting the coffee table and Two-Bit's loud, "Oh, Christ—Christ on a cracker...nonononono...not this."

"That's why we haven't gotten any letters..." Ponyboy had been standing up when I'd walked in, his eyes wide and it had been obvious that he was crying. Two-Bit had looked a little too close to it as well.

The kid must have had some affinity for balling up letters, because that was just what he had done to this next one. I'd pried it out of his hands and when I read it, the words had blurred on the pages.

MIA. Gone. Just like that.

Pony wordlessly had walked into the kitchen, sitting down with his head on the table. He hadn't been making a single noise. It had struck me as real odd, then, how he had acted so calm, but looking back I think he'd been in shock or something. Because he hadn't moved an inch and hadn't seemed like he was going to.

"Goddamn it!" I'd shouted, feeling all the emotion I'd kept at bay for these last few months overflowing. At this point, I'd been crying real good and loud. I'd slammed my fist down into the coffee table and even then, Pony hadn't flinched. He'd just laid his head there, sitting still, bawling to himself. "Goddamn it," I'd said again, but this time it hadn't been full of anger, but remorse.

Two-Bit had had his hands braced against the countertop. I hadn't seen his face, but I could tell by the way his shoulders were shaking that he'd been joining me in the cry fest.

"I gotta go to work," Pony had said then suddenly, vaguely like his mind was far away. I knew that mine had been as well. It had been like we were in some kind of vacuum, with nobody speaking and nobody moving, until he said that.

"Just go then, alright?" I'd snapped, for no reason whatsoever except the fact that the kid looked too much like Sodapop and I didn't like reminders of what was violently taken away from me. "Jesus, just get the hell out of here, kid." He'd complied, and it took me a while to notice that he'd left without his shoes or wallet.

MIA. I had sat there, and thought about what it meant for a long time. I'd thought about what hell my best friend must have endured. Two-Bit still had been shaking next to me.

I couldn't tell you how much time had passed in the Curtis kitchen. Two-Bit had sat down across from me at the table. "Damn it," he'd said to me, or to no one in particular. "That was about as fun as takin' a whack to the family jewels."

I'd said nothing.

"That poor fuckin' family," Two-Bit had gone on, blathering like some kind of pussy. A rage had burned inside me at that point like nothing I'd ever felt before. Nothing was fair. We never got any fucking breaks and life was a complete shithole. "Oh, that poor kid."

Soda had only had a few months of service left.

"Sometimes, I think about what it would have been like if I'd taken a football scholarship and left the two of them in some boys' home somewhere. Property of the state." Darry had shaken his head, smiled some kind of twisted smile that was filled with devastation I could feel.

I'd been coaxing Darry into fixing the siding of his house with me. It had been falling apart steadily for a while now. Finally, he'd seemed to come to his senses and agreed to help me. It wasn't like Pony had had the time to do it. I'd figured that this wasn't the house that Soda would want to come back to if he finally did.

It had been a real sad position to be in, trying to convince a shell of a man to fix his own house, something that long ago, wouldn't have been a problem. He hadn't been called Superman for nothing. But in the last few months, everything had slipped. Nothing had been how it was supposed to be.

I hadn't said anything back to Darry, just letting him talk because it seemed that he'd needed it. He'd continued with, "Of course, I could never do that. I could never leave 'em behind like that. I mean, they were my brothers, for Christ's sakes."

"Well, you're a good man for that, Darrel." I'd said, and I'd meant it. "Shit, much better than me."

Darry had been drunk that whole day, bottles stacked up on the floor next to his recliner and one on the porch outside with us. Once upon a time, he'd never touch a drop of the stuff, but was anything normal anymore? "Wouldn't be too sure of that," he'd replied cryptically, and I'd noticed for the first time how rundown he'd looked, with his hair longer than he'd ever worn it and hints of a beard growing on his chin. "At the end of the day, I still let 'em down."

"Aw, hell, Darry." I'd swung a piece of clapboard over my shoulder and gave it to him. "I'd say you did one hell of a job."

"Yeah," he'd snorted. "One's dead and the other one can't eat a goddamn bite of food to save his life. Real bang-up job I did."

I'd taken a deep breath, a horrible mixture of rage and sorrow washing over me in an icy tide, glad that Pony was nowhere around to hear his cruel words. For a second, tears had sprung to my eyes, but I'd turned my head around and just looked at Darry.

He had been right about one thing - the kid wouldn't eat. He'd throw himself into his work and school and pay the bills that he was able to and shoulder the responsibility and vehemently deny any possibility that Sodapop could truly be dead, but I hadn't seen him eat anything since his older brother was announced MIA.

"We don't know if he's dead," I'd said, perhaps fruitlessly, but the anger was making it hard for my voice to remain steady. I couldn't help but wonder when the Curtises all became so goddamn morbid. "Goddamn it, we have no idea."

We'd been planning a funeral. Soda had been classified as MIA for two months. Darry had shut down completely. Pony had looked like a skeleton. God, it was just all so fucking depressing. Life, as I knew it, had completely spun out of control.

The good news couldn't have come at a better time.

Two-Bit dragged me along to Pony's work. It was a Sunday, so the kid was working a double. Two-Bit took my fifth, unopened, bottle of beer with him and I sheepishly paid, leaving a tip for the waitress at Sweet Dee's Diner even if she did sort of act like she had a stick up her ass.

Two-Bit was positively bouncing off the walls, for once out of genuine happiness instead of his neurotic desire to constantly fill the silence with jokes and rejoinders. I never understood people who couldn't just sit in the quiet and always had to make small talk. That was one thing I always liked about the kid.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Pony said when he saw us. It was the first time I'd heard him make any type of witticism in ages, so I took that as a good sign.

Two-Bit and I took turns horsing around with the kid even though he was at work and was obviously embarrassed. I figured giving him a little hell was a bit of payback for the many times he took a complimentary Coke from the DX.

"So, it's true, huh? Two-Bit ain't sproutin' off nonsense?"

"O, ye of little faith," Two-Bit responded with ease. "I'm insulted, Steve." Pony smiled a crooked smile, looking around the restaurant, obviously making sure his boss wasn't around.

"It is true. Got the letter in the mail this mornin'. Hold on a sec." He walked away from us, stride long and for once, relaxed. He was talking to an older man, probably the manager of the joint, and then came right back to us. "I got fifteen minutes."

He threw off his apron. Two-Bit shot me a grin so devilish that I almost laughed out loud right there. It felt weird to do so, like a fog was lifted from my eyes and suddenly everything seemed lighter. Like I could breathe again. We were all so wound up that now we were ready to rupture, like that feeling of restlessness that washes over you after a rumble or a drag race or something. There was a happy and nervous energy that characterized us all.

We followed Ponyboy to the back of the restaurant, in the seedy alleyway. He smoked a cigarette, then another one, then another one. But he was still grinning.

I was leaned up against a grimy dumpster when I asked, "So they found him?"

"Yessiree," the kid said as he inhaled deep on the cancer stick. He tried to blow smoke rings but failed. He trailed off for a second, dreamy-like, then snapped back into reality, speaking so fast it was like he couldn't get the words out quick enough. "Turns out they found him almost as soon as he was lost. He was just separated from the rest of 'em. Then they were on a mission or somethin' and they couldn't get any letters to us."

It was hard to breathe for a second. I felt my eyes water but I didn't say anything. This was almost too good to be true.

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle," Two-Bit breathed out. Then he cracked open the beer that was in his pocket that he took from the diner and whooped and hollered so loud that Pony's manager had to come outside and shut him the hell up. "I'd say that's cause for a celebration, wouldn't you?"

"We'll throw a real party," I added. "We'll all go ape." I thought about Darry then, wondered about how he had reacted to the news. I wondered if things would go back to the way they were before. I hoped, for everyone's sakes, that it would.

Pony ashed his cigarette under his shoe and walked back to the door. "I gotta go back. I'll see you later." The smile still lingered on his face, but I could see the dark pull of anxiety simmering just under the surface. I knew he was thinking what I was thinking: this entire time, we'd been so focused on Sodapop getting back in one piece, and now that we know he will, what comes next?

Two-Bit walked with me down the street back to my car. The lazy bum still didn't have a job, and I had one of my rare days off so this was what it was going to be, palling around and driving the streets of the East side. We turned a corner and piled into my ride, the doors squeaking as they were shut. "You ever get the feeling that all's not quiet on the Western front?"

"What do ya mean?"

"I just mean that, well..." Two-Bit scratched the side of his head, a gesture that seemed surprisingly thoughtful for someone as greasy as him. "Where's Darry been these days, huh? The kid works fifty hours a week and their damn house is a clusterfuck."

"I don't know, man. It's all fucked up, is what it is." I shook my head. "Not for much longer, though. Soda, he—he's comin' back and as soon as you know it, it's all gonna be right again." Soda was a lot of things, but superhero wasn't one of them. I couldn't help but wonder if the damage that had happened while he was gone was irrevocable. If his disappearance that had driven a wedge in every possible dynamic would be repairable with him back. I missed him so much. I thought about how the letters he wrote were like a lifeline, so abruptly snatched away from me.

I was lost when I found out that he was lost. Now he was coming back, so I couldn't help but wonder why I wasn't as excited as I should be. Why was I filled with this feeling that something was misplaced, that something was wrong? Pony had had that same look in his eye like he was happy but not everything was as it should be. Truth was, I was scared to see Sodapop again. I was scared he wouldn't be the same. It was selfish, but it was how I felt.

"I didn't think it would happen in a million years. You see all that on the news about the hawks who support the war and the hippies who don't, read all the numbers about the kids that die over there every day and I just...after everything, after Johnny, Dallas...well, hell, it never dawned on me that this coulda ended so good."

If I wasn't driving, I'd have probably stared at my friend for a long while. I wondered when he got so grown up, or when he became so serious. Maybe this was just another side effect of being a victim of the environment that we were thrown in. I cleared my throat, feeling it tighten. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. Again, I wasn't able to say anything back.

His hair was a bit longer than when it was when he first left, but still shorter than any of us were used to seeing. That was the first thing I noticed when he came back, that and that his eyes seemed a lot harder than before. Burning with some fire that none of us could grasp.

Darry grabbed him first, swooped him up and tightly held him close. He was always rough but Sodapop grabbed back just as hard. Darry had tears running down his face. It used to make me real on edge seeing Darry become so unglued, but that was just how he was most of the time. Pony stood to the side before Darry pulled him in, too.

I'd never admit it, but my heart seized a little. I'd never known what it was like to have family like that. Sure, Two-Bit and all them had my back if I ever needed it, but I'd never have the experience of going home to someone who was actually happy to see me.

Soda wasn't crying. He hugged me and Two-Bit at the same time, his grip tight. Long time ago, I used to beat him at arm wrestling every time, but now, I wasn't so sure I could. He wasn't big like Darry, but he sure as hell wasn't like he was before. He was tan and skinnier, but he seemed stronger. Overall, it wasn't a bad change. He still had all his fingers and toes so it wasn't like I could start complaining.

We'd hung up banners right before we went to go get him. It was corny, but we were okay with that. We cleaned up the house. Darry shaved, Pony wore a new expression that betrayed the fatigue I'm sure he felt, and Two-Bit had so much grease in his hair you could fry an egg in it.

Sodapop grinned distantly when he saw the sign, the decorations, and the chocolate cake, but it wasn't like it was before. Maybe I was looking too into it, but it didn't seem like that smile was whole.

He didn't say much that entire day. I chalked it up to everything happening so fast. Lord knows I could barely keep up. Ponyboy instantly started rounding off questions, talking everyone's ear off, sitting there next to Soda because, Jesus, was this really happening? I don't think Pony noticed it yet, but there was something off in Soda's eyes. It was like he was acknowledging that someone was talking but wasn't actually listening.

I thought it would get better. We all did.

A door would slam. Soda would jump. Ponyboy still worked his ass off. Darry breathed down Soda's neck, taking stock like he couldn't believe that they were both here, that they were both alive.

I don't think any of us could.

I got assigned to take the kid to work. Darry became aware of how much Pony was working and authoritatively told him to cut down. I could tell Pony was relieved by this. Shit, I think we all were. Darry was always supposed to be the one who handled things when no one else could. It wasn't fair, but it was the role he'd been assigned.

Sodapop got wind of how many hours his kid brother worked a week while he was gone and he said nothing. Just like he always did.

"I don't know what to do," Ponyboy said, almost slamming his head on the passenger side window of my car. He swiped at his eyes quickly. "I thought it'd get better with him here. I thought that he'd make it okay." The kid paused for a second, chewing on the unlit smoke in his mouth. "I think about what he musta seen and done over there...the stuff that was so bad he can't talk to nobody about it. I told him I didn't care what he did or saw, that he'd always be my brother. And that I loved him. But he just kept starin' at the TV."

Sodapop wasn't the same. We knew he wouldn't be, but we never expected anything like this. Two-Bit and me had offered to take him out for beers the first weekend he got back, but by then, he'd completely shut down. We couldn't get a word out of him edgewise. Instead, he just sat there looking cold and deflated.

I snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry, kid. So fuckin' sorry."

Pony was silent. He rubbed his eyes and responded with, "You know, when he left, he promised that he'd come back in one piece. Sure, he didn't lose an arm or a leg or nothin', but it sure don't feel like he's in one piece. Maybe...maybe he left some part of him back in Vietnam."

Darry was the foundation of the family, but Sodapop was the glue. He'd always kept Pony and Darry sane, always was the source of understanding and empathy. He used to understand Pony's way of thinking, why Darry acted the way he did. He brought everyone together again, helped to strengthen relationships.

He was my best friend. He was the one who introduced me to my group of brothers. He was the one who dug me like few had before.

Now, I didn't have a clue where he was, but I knew he wasn't here. It didn't matter how much I tried to talk to him, how many hours we all spent trying to get him to answer us. His eyes stayed forward, looking at nothing always.

I pulled up to Pony's work. I looked at him. He looked back. I saw my best friend in his face. He got out of the car, thanking me as he went. I watched his retreating figure grow smaller and smaller as he walked in.

Even Super Glue isn't indestructible.