Ponyboy's P.O.V.

After our parents died, it was hard going back to school. I had to pretend like the stares didn't bother me, like I couldn't hear the whispers, like I didn't notice the strained conversations. Each of my teachers kept me after class to offer their condolences.

Why do people do that? Tell you they're sorry that you lost somebody and that they know you're going through tough times? If they know so much, they wouldn't keep reminding me of what you need no help remembering.

In a few days the kids will forget. Someone will say something about their parents to you carelessly and apologize for not remembering. It must be nice. To have to remember something. It means you can forget it. I can't forget. I can't think of anything else.

This morning before I left for school Darry told me in no uncertain terms that I was to come home right after school and catch up on missed work. It's not fair. I argued that I could do my homework at the library, but he cut me a look that let me know not to push him any further. He never tries to understand why I do anything. He thinks I daydream too much. I don't want to be here by myself especially. It's just not fair.

I hate being home. Everything reminds me of them here. Besides, Soda and Darry don't have to be here all the time. Just me. I'll be stuck here reminded of all the things I can't forget and don't want to remember.

School was a drag like I knew it would be. Getting an A on a lab report just doesn't seem all that important anymore. Not looking old enough seems like a silly worry now. Those were kid worries. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm an orphan.

I walked into the house and started on my math. It was Algebra. I got most of it but I guess Darry would have to check the rest of it. I was so caught up in homework that I didn't hear the door open. I looked up and saw Darry. Then I ran out of the room crying.

Darry's P.O.V

I was driving home and thinking about Soda and Pony. We were adjusting. Not well, but we were adjusting. If I'm being honest, Soda was picking up a lot of my slack. I made a promise to mom and dad at the funeral that I would look after them both. But Soda just looks out for Pone in a way that I can't. I'm 20. He just turned 14 a month ago. There's a 6 year gap between us, and I'm too old to remember being his age.

Everytime I ask him to do something he's giving me lip. Like this morning. I told him to come home after school and start his homework. He had a week to catch up on. With as much attitude as he could muster he said he could do it at the library. Sometimes that kid doesn't think. The library closes at 7. Soda gets off of work at 9, and I work the night shift tonight at my second job. Who would pick him up? I'm not letting him walk around by his lonesome. His lack of a response broke my concentration. I guess he must have understood a little bit. But when he walked past me huffing under his breath I guessed not.

I pulled into the driveway. I had to grab my wallet, I left it at the house this morning. I saw Ponyboy doing his work. At least he was doing what I asked. I was just about to speak to him when he ran crying out of the room. I stood stunned for a few moments before I followed him. He had locked the door to his room.

"Pony what's wrong? Open the door."

Ponyboy's P.O.V.

I can't believe I just did that. What I thought was just wrong. I couldn't stand him. I hated him. Why's he gotta be like he is?

"Pony what's wrong? Open the door."

No. I just need to calm down. I can think my way out of this one.

"Leave me alone Darry. I'm fine." Great. That'll get him to leave. Nothing says you're not fine like saying you're fine.

"You're crying, you ain't fine."

I was sick and tired of people telling me what I was feeling and how I should be acting. I threw the door open.

"You know what Darry, if I was Soda and I said I wanted to be left alone you would have done it no questions asked. Stop treating me like a kid and let me handle my own problems." A look of hurt flashed in Darry's eyes.

I wanna tell him I don't mean it. That I'm having a rough day. But I don't. I want to apologize for being angry with him, but then I would have to tell him why. And that's worse than him thinking I'm being a smart ass kid. I'll just let him think it. He wouldn't understand anyway.

Darry's P.O.V.

"Leave me alone Darry. I'm fine." His voice sounded angry. I did nothing to him. Just walked into our house and looked at him. I took three deep breaths and tried again. Maybe if my voice was a little gentler.

"You're crying, you ain't fine." I guess gentle isn't my thing. Even I can admit it came out rough. Next thing I know he swings open the door.

"You know what Darry, if I was Soda and I said I wanted to be left alone you would have done it no questions asked. Stop treating me like a kid and let me handle my own problems."

I wonder if he knows how much it hurts you when he says stuff like that. When he acts like you choose Soda over him. I wonder if he remembers how he always used to come to you as a kid when he wanted something. Long before he replaced you with Soda. Does he ever think about how Soda used to be jealous because he wasn't the youngest anymore? He grew out of it of course. But when we were little it was a whole different story. Soda came to me one night and asked me if he was enough. If so, why did we need a new brother. I told him how fun and important it was to be a big brother. I groomed him with all the knowledge of a 8 year old on how to be a good big brother. And he took Pony away from me. But it was fine, because we all still loved each other equally.

Now I'm not so sure. He seems fine with Soda, but for whatever reason he can't stand me. I looked at the clock on the wall and figured it was time I headed back to work. I was too tired to continue.

"I gotta go to work Pone. We can discuss this later." I walked away before he could say anything else.

Pony's P.O.V.

It's not you Dar. That's what I want to tell him. You're doing a good job raising us. But I stay silent while he walks away. I love you even when I try to convince myself I don't. But I say nothing as he gets into his truck. It's not you Dar. But it kind of is too. You roof houses. Just like dad. You're built strong. Just like dad. You got a cowlick. Just like dad. Your gait. Just like dad's. Your looks. Just like dad's. If you're not listening too hard your voice sounds just like dad's.

But you're just not dad.

And truthfully that's why I'm upset. Because for an instant when you walked into the house, and I let my guard down, I thought you were dad. I thought the nightmare I had been living for the past few weeks were over. I had finally woke up. But then you looked at me and I saw your eyes. And they weren't dad's. They were Darry's.

I'm mad at my brother for the worst reason possible. I'm mad because he looks like dad, but he ain't.

I can't tell you why I'm mad because you wouldn't get it. It would only hurt you more. Me reminding you that you're not dad is only gonna hurt. And I don't need to tell you, cus I already know you know you're not him. I see how you worry if you're living in a way he'd be proud of. I see how you try to implement the same rules he had. And I know you think you're failing, because everybody falls short to dad. Not just you.

Darry's P.O.V.

I drove back to work upset. More overwhelmed than anything. I can't do anything right it seems. Don't even know why my brother's mad. Can't even get him to tell me why. If dad were here I could ask him how to approach Ponyboy, but if dad were here I wouldn't need to.

It was time to face facts. I will never be dad. I'm just Darry. His son. And that's all I know how to be. I guess me and Pony are a work in progress. Because dad is who he needs and Darry is all that's available. A poor substitute at best.