Well, this is another "lost" Rumble. The theme for this one was "Show and Tell" where in which one of the boys had show and tell. Yeah, I was on a "back to school kick" with it being September and all. Thanks to Zickachik, who also beta'd this one since she is awesome.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Something Special

Little kids. I swear, they make the simplest things seem so much harder than they had to be. Ponyboy was the worst for this. If Mom asked him to clean his half of the room, he would spend hours trying to put everything right. If he was helping with the laundry, all the socks had to match and if there was an odd one, he went searching for the one it matched. Like I said, things always ended up being a lot harder than they needed to be. But I guess when you're thirteen, you can look back and reason that you were probably that silly when you were seven. Ponyboy was starting the second grade and the teachers were already trying to talk Mom and Dad into moving him up a year. I didn't see the problem with that, but who listens to me anyway? I figured that everyone listened to Dad because he could reach the top shelf in the kitchen. One day I was going to be tall enough to reach everything and everyone was going to listen to me.

But I was talking about Ponyboy. I didn't know what he was up to today, but he was busy going through his stuff and making an even bigger mess of his and Soda's room. I'd just shaken my head and went back to my own room, but that was hours ago. I heard the poor kid sniff once or twice in frustration, but I knew better than to worry unless he was full out crying over something. He had decided months ago that he was too tough to cry like a little kid anymore. So I ignored him, doing my English homework. I was nearly done when there was a quiet knock on my door.

I wasn't used to that. Ponyboy, Sodapop, and I had always shared a room until two months ago when Dad decided to move the washer and dryer into the hall closet and get rid of some of the junk that was in this room. Mom and Dad thought it would be a good idea for Ponyboy and Soda to have their own beds instead of sharing all the time and I was enjoying having my own space, but it was weird that my brothers just didn't come into the room anymore. Crazy that I finally got my own space and I missed sharing.

I got up and went to the door. Ponyboy was standing there, looking down at his feet and I waited patiently for him to say something.

"Darry?"

"Yeah?"

"I have a question."

"What's that?" I asked and Ponyboy looked up at me quickly before looking back down at his feet.

"I need help," he replied.

I would have pointed out that he wasn't asking me a question, but the kid seemed anxious enough. I frowned. I may not be in the same room anymore, but I was always willing to help him if he needed it. I glanced back over at my English homework and hoped Ponyboy wouldn't need me for too long.

"With what?"

"I hafta bring in something special for show and tell."

"Bring in your favourite book or something."

"Everyone does that," he whined.

"Bring in a toy."

"Everyone does that, too. I want my show and tell to be something really special."

"Well, think of something no one else has done yet," I suggested, flopping back down on my bed with my homework.

"But I can't think of anything," he sighed. "I even went through all my stuff."

That didn't surprise me, either.

"You know, whatever you bring in will be yours and no one is going to say it's not special," I pointed out.

"Its not that. I just want to be uni – uni – "

"Unique," I supplied and he nodded.

"Yeah, that. Everyone says my name is."

"Bring in your name for show and tell then."

"But everyone knows it!" he nearly cried and I wondered how something so simple had become so frustrating to my little brother.

"Hey, just relax," I told him. "You'll think of something."

"No, I won't," he snapped.

"You're the one going up a grade next year," I reminded. "You'll do fine with whatever you bring in. I used to just grab one of Dad's ties or the football."

"Those are special?" he asked and I shrugged.

"They were easy enough to just grab and go."

Ponyboy gave me a look that basically said he wondered how anyone had let me go into the third grade without a fight. Well, I thought he was trying too hard. Who expected a second grader to bring in more than a silly knickknack?

As it turns out, Ponyboy didn't really need me until Monday morning. I wondered how he'd managed to talk me into coming to class with him as I sat in the too small desks in the second grade classroom. Miss Giovanni had smiled at me and asked about seventh grade and I'd told her it was just fine. She'd been my second grade teacher, too. And Two-Bit, Soda, and Steve's as well. I think she may have even had Johnny, but I couldn't remember. She asked about Soda, too. She even called him 'that golden angel'. I wondered if she was talking about the same Sodapop I knew. She used to have both Sodapop and Steve stay behind for detentions weekly.

"Well, it's wonderful you came. It appears only Ponyboy was creative enough to bring in a person for show and tell."

She was right. I was the only person there who wasn't two feet tall with a toy clasped in my hands. They were all looking at me, though, as Ponyboy visited with other kids before the bell rang. All in all, I was feeling pretty embarrassed. It got worse when Miss Giovanni told Pony he could go first. I ended up standing in front of all the kids and waited for Ponyboy to get over the sudden bout of shyness he seemed to have gotten as soon as we stood up there. I nudged him a bit and he stepped forward.

"This is my oldest brother Darry. He's 13 and in the seventh grade. He's really tall and strong. We even call him 'Superman'. Mom says he's like that because he ate all his vegetables when he was my age. Soda says it's because he's bound and determined to be bigger than everyone else we know. Soda is my other brother," he added, looking up from his shoes for the first time when he mentioned Soda.

"And why did you choose to bring your big brother in, Ponyboy?" Miss Giovanni coaxed.

"Because he's Darry," Ponyboy said with a blush. "He's Superman."

I looked at Ponyboy and wanted to rub his head until he was hairless. I had no idea he thought I was so great. Sodapop he practically followed around like a puppy, but I guess I kind of ignored how Pony always asked me annoying questions and bugged me for things. I'd pretty much thought he lived to annoy me sometimes. But here he was, showing me off because he thought I was a superhero.

"Well, I can see that you really look up to your older brother." Miss Giovanni smiled as Ponyboy nodded. "Does anyone have a question for Ponyboy about his big brother?"

One little kid with red hair put up his hand and Ponyboy pointed to him. "Did he really eat all his vegetables?"

Ponyboy nodded solemnly. "Every last bite."

The kids were all in awe and Ponyboy beamed. "He does all his homework, too. And he still finds time to play with us. He's getting a paper route in the summer, too, since he says yard work doesn't pay enough."

I leaned back against the teacher's desk while Ponyboy went on about how great I was, even though everything he pointed was pretty ordinary. It made me beam with pride and I knew I would never forget this day or how special Ponyboy was to me, too.

Years later, little did I know at the time, I held onto that moment while he was yelling that he hated me for grounding him. I tried to remember the list of things that made me a great big brother while he grumbled about how unfair I was for making him do his homework instead of getting wrapped up in a novel or going out with the guys. And after my hand made contact with his cheek, I held onto the look of pure admiration he'd had for me once, because I was pretty sure he'd never look at me like that ever again; that was if he ever looked at me again, period.

I guess Ponyboy had it right at age seven. It was the little things that made the biggest impressions on us. If I told him one trip to a second grade classroom got me through the worst years of our lives…well, maybe he would have got it. Who knows, maybe it's the memory of when I helped him out for show and tell that he held onto when I was yelling at him until I was blue in the face. Maybe it was that 'something special' he was talking about.

- End

I honestly should stop beating up on Darry...but that sounds like work.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!

Tens & Zickachik