Hello! Fluffy here. So for a Language Arts project, an alternate assignment for the Outsiders book we were reading was to write scenes from the Outsiders from alternate perspectives. Naturally, Queue and I took on the challenge. When we finished, we thought 'hey, why not publish it on FanFiction?' So here you have it, the scene on page 49, the confrontation between Darry and Ponyboy from Darry's perspective.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock clicked above the fireplace, the hollow sound echoing throughout the house. Its hands indicated it was sometime around 1:50 am. My shaking hands indicated my nervousness.
I didn't know if it was just me, but the rhythmic ticking of the clock seemed abnormally slow. Perhaps it was just my anxiety. It wouldn't do any good denying it. I glanced over at Soda, who was turning restlessly on the sofa, occasionally glancing towards the clock himself. Though silence stretched between us, I knew we were both thinking the same thing: where in the world was Ponyboy?
Eventually, I decided staring at the clock wasn't going to get anything done. I drowsily reached for the newspaper on the floor and snapped it open, tapping my foot anxiously. Soda stretched out on the couch next to me, and his jagged breaths gradually evened out until they were to reduced to soft snores. He was probably dreaming how his brother would be there when he woke up. If only I were so trusting in my youngest brother.
Though my eyes skimmed the words on the paper, I didn't really comprehend what they were telling me. I glanced up every few seconds, anyway, to check the clock, door or window. My mind wasn't focused on yet another article on Dally's unlawful antics, but rather sifting through all the possibilities on where Pony could be.
He's probably just hanging out with Two-bit or Johnny, I told myself; after all, it was the most logical explanation. But I couldn't help but feel terrified for the kid. I couldn't help but imagine every worst-case scenario. He could have been jumped, lying dead on the street, or hit by a passing car, or- no. I sighed. I needed to calm down. Worrying wasn't going to fix anything.
I was about ready to call the police when I heard the click of the doorknob turning. My gaze darted up from the paper, and I leapt to my feet. There in the doorway stood a silhouetted Pony, avoiding my gaze and biting his fingernail.
At first I gave a rattling sigh of relief. My brother was okay. But it was short-lived; my bottled-up energy escalated almost immediately to rage. "Where the heck have you been? Do you know what time it is?"
He shook his head sheepishly.
"Well, it's two in the morning, kiddo. Another hour and I would have had the police out after you. Where were you, Ponyboy?"- I felt my voice crack- "Where in the almighty universe were you?"
"I... I went to sleep in the lot..." he stuttered dumbly.
"You what?" I was shouting, and probably scaring him out of his wits. But it didn't matter: How could he have just left us to worry? Especially after what had happened to mom and dad? Sodapop sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Hey, Ponyboy," he said sleepily, "Where ya been?" Leave it to Soda to keep his cool in such a heart-racking situation.
"I didn't mean to," whined Pony, shuffling his feet. "I was talking to Johnny and we both dropped off..."
"I reckon it never occurred to you that your brothers might be worrying their heads off and afraid to call the police because something like that could get you two thrown in a boys' home so quick it'd make your head spin. And you were asleep in the lot? Ponyboy, what on earth is the matter with you? Can't you use your head? You haven't even got a coat on." I clenched my fists. Did he even care? Why wouldn't he use that brain he brought good grades home with for something useful, for once?
"I said I didn't mean to..."
"'I didn't mean to!'" I bellowed mockingly. "'I didn't think! I forgot!' That's all I hear out of you! Can't you think of anything?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Soda getting to his feet. "Darry..." Sodapop started. I whipped around to face him. "You keep your trap shut! I'm sick and tired of hearin' you stick up for him." He didn't deserve to be stuck up for, not today. He needed to learn to keep himself out of trouble.
At that, Pony exploded. "You don't yell at him!" he cried.
That was the last straw. I could yell at whoever the heck I wanted to! Wasn't I the one, after all, who'd cared and provided for this pathetic family for all our orphaned years? Wasn't I the one who'd put up with Pony's excuses? I was so blind with rage that I wheeled around and slapped Pony so hard that I saw the little guy fall back against the door.
Sometimes I was surprised by my own strength. That night, I was appalled.
It took a few seconds for me to realize what I had done. I froze. My brothers did the same, both staring at me in silent shock. Nobody had ever hit anyone in this family. Nobody. Soda gaped at me, appalled. I stared at the palm of my hand, where it was starting to sting red. I looked up wide-eyed to my youngest brother. "Ponyboy..."
I tried to grab the back of his shirt as he turned and sprinted out the door.
"Pony, I didn't mean to!" I screamed after him, but he was too far down the street to hear me by then, I imagine. That kid always could run, I thought hopelessly.
I turned to Soda, trying to express how sorry I was. But he just glared at me coldly, and spun around off to his room. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I couldn't justify what I had done.
Numbly, I fell back against the chair, and rubbed my face with my hands. Man, I didn't usually smoke, but I needed to cool down. It'd be beyond my luck for Pony to forgive me for what I had done. Soda, too. I knew I had crossed the line.
