Chapter One

The second Sodapop and I walked through the front door Friday evening, I just flung myself down in Dad's old armchair beside the window and closed my eyes without bothering to take off my coat, or my work boots, or even my toolbelt. My mind was in overdrive as I sat there with my chin in my hand, watching the street through the open curtains. Supper has to be made, I gotta sort out this month's bills, I gotta be at work by eight... I could hear Soda thumping around on the front porch with his best buddy Steve, and though I had an awful headache, I couldn't find the energy to holler for them to shut up like I usually do.

Then I saw something that made my mind (and heart) completely stop: a red Corvair was stopped beside the lot at the end of our street and what looked like a group of Socs was crowded over something lying on the sidewalk.

"Soda...?" I called through the screen door. I knew he and Steve had seen that Corvair, they had gone quiet and were staring down the street too. I hung my toolbelt up beside Soda's DX jacket and stepped out to get a better look when Soda suddenly shouted, "Ponyboy!" and barreled down off the porch with Steve close on his heels, and that's when I heard the voice of my baby brother screaming, "Darry! Soda! Help!" and then I launched myself off the porch after them.

Ponyboy had taken some blows by the time the three of us reached the lot. He was curled on his side and the side of his head was bloody. I grabbed the nearest Soc by the shoulder, yanked him around, and punched him hard in the face. Soda had tackled another Soc around the waist and was screaming at Ponyboy to get up and run. The Socs were beating it for the Corvair, one of them holding a switchblade spotted with red, and I knew he was the one that had tried to cut up my baby brother, but he was too far for me to reach. I could see the rest of our gang running in from the opposite direction, yelling and swearing, but I was focused on making sure Pony was okay. I hauled him roughly to his feet and shook him. "Are you alright, Ponyboy?"

He sounded impatient when he said, "I'm okay... Quit shaking me, Darry, I'm okay."

I released him and mumbled, "I'm sorry," and stepped away, my fists in my pockets. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?"

He was sitting down again, rubbing the side of his face. "I'm okay." He looked ready to bawl, though, and he was hunched over a little and his hands were shaking.

Sodapop was there at that moment, kneeling down beside Ponyboy and looking concerned as he said, "You got cut up a little, huh, Ponyboy?" and tugged a handkerchief from his back pocket. I stood over them as Soda began carefully cleaning the side of Pony's head. Pony just stared at him with the same blank look he had whenever we interrupted him while he had his nose in a book. "I did?

"You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

Pony looked startled as he said, "I am?"

"Look!" Soda cried, showing Pony the handkerchief, which was now soaked with blood in the center where Soda had held it against his head. "Did they pull a blade on you?"

"Yeah." Pony was looking up at Soda as he spoke, but now he quickly dropped his head down and started crying a bit. His face was white and he was shaking hard. I felt awful as I watched him, but I didn't say anything, because Sodapop had already touched his shoulder and was saying in a soft voice, "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more."

I just stood there watching the two of them as the shouts and swears of our gang echoed around the lot. Soda's just so good at all this. He's just like Dad was. I'm Ponyboy's older brother too. I should be able to comfort him too.

I saw Steve and Dallas scooping up rocks off the side of the road and chucking them at the Socs and their car. Two-Bit was screaming every dirty word he could think of. The Socs were swearing just as loud as our gang and were yelling "Grease!" as they piled into the Corvair and peeled out of the lot. Even little Johnny had a big triumphant grin on his face.

"... I'm just a little spooked, that's all," Ponyboy was saying to Soda. He took a breath and his tears stopped. I can't remember the last time I saw Pony cry. Soda grinned softly and rubbed Pony's hair affectionately and said, "You're an okay kid, Pony."

Pony grinned back. "You're crazy, Soda, out of your mind."

"You're both nuts," I said, annoyed. I think it was because I was a little hurt that Pony went to Soda for comfort and not to me. I could understand why, though. Soda was the one who offered Ponyboy comfort, he was the first one to say "It's okay" or to throw an arm across Pony's shoulders. He was the one who shared a bed with Pony and who was the first one awake when Pony was having that nightmare. Yet it still bugged me something awful and I never told anyone about it.

Soda glanced up at me with a cocked eyebrow and said, "It seems to run in this family."

I had to grin at him. Sodapop loved teasing me. He was the one who started everybody calling me "Superman," and when I was still in high school he never missed a chance to rib me about the dates I went on or the parties I had been invited to. It was another way he was so much like Dad had been.

The gang had come running back to us and were flopped down on the grass beside the road, breathing hard and looking roughed-up, but grinning all the same. Dallas pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his brown leather jacket.

"Didya catch 'em?" Pony asked.

"Nup, they got away this time, the dirty…" came Two-Bit's cheerful answer, and he went on to call the Socs every name he could think up.

"The kid's okay?" somebody asked as Dallas handed lit cigarettes around.

"I'm okay," Pony replied as he took a cigarette. His face was a normal color again and he had quit shaking. I knew that cigarette was calming him down some. "I didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally."

"Good behavior. Got off early."

Two-Bit was watching Ponyboy. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid."

Pony's hand went to the side of his face. He sure did have a nasty purple bruise forming on his cheek. "Really?"

"Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough," Two-Bit added with a nod.

I rolled my eyes. Ponyboy wouldn't have had that bruise or that cut in the first place if he could just use his head. He could've called me at work and I could've come to pick him up, or Two-Bit could've dropped by and brought him to our house… It makes me madder than heck when Pony does stuff like this because ever since Mom and Dad died, I'm responsible for him and Sodapop, and I can't mess up or the state will take my brothers away from me and put them in a boys' home. I can't quit worrying about the two of them, especially Pony, because he's the baby and he's still in school and all. But he could at least do his part and use his head and keep out of messes like this. He knows darn well he shouldn't be walking the streets by himself with the Socs around. And he knows what'll happen if the state hears about something like this!

Steve (of all people) voiced my thoughts aloud as he knocked the ashes off the end of his cigarette into Pony's lap. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?"

Pony scowled over at Steve. He and Steve had never been the greatest of friends. "I was comin' home from the movies, I didn't think…"

"You don't ever think, not at home or anywhere when it counts." I let all my frustration and annoyance with Pony out. "You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub." I stopped and sighed and shook my head. "And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade."

Ponyboy was staring at the ground. The gang was used to me lecturing my baby brother and they weren't really paying any attention. But Sodapop was glaring up at me. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons," he burst out. He always is sticking up for Pony.

"When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you- kid brother," I huffed, but I laid off. I don't like lecturing Ponyboy. It felt like every time I was on to him about something we grew another world apart.

I waited as the gang made plans for the following night. Soda and Steve were taking their girls out to a game, Two-Bit was aiming to go get drunk like he usually did on a Saturday night, and Dally was heading over to the Nightly Double with Johnny and Pony. I sighed as I listened to them. I was working Saturday night at the warehouse as usual. And I gotta take care of the groceries and the bills too…

Later on that evening Sodapop wandered into my bedroom as I lay on the bed making a grocery list. I was on my stomach again because of another pulled muscle, this time smack in the middle of my back. I really gotta stop tryin' to take two bundles of roofing up the ladder, I thought as I tried to sit up and pain raced up my spine. "What is it, Soda?"

He was leaning in the door with a knowing look on his face. "How about a backrub, Superman?"

I heaved a sigh and glanced down at my unfinished grocery list. "I'm kinda busy right now, Soda. Maybe some other time."

Soda came and sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hands along my back. "Darry. You're obviously hurting. I ain't gonna take 'no' for an answer. Now lie down and shut up."

I sighed again and rolled my eyes but did what I was told. For a few minutes we didn't talk as Soda's strong hands worked out all the pain in my back and then moved up to my neck and shoulders. Then he asked softly, "There anything you wanna talk about?"

I just buried my head in my pillow and mumbled, "Rub harder, Soda, you're gonna put me to sleep."

"Darry…"

"What, Soda?" I lifted my head to look back at him. He had that knowing look on his face again. It was his turn now to sigh.

"You can tell me anything, Darry, you know that, right? It's just me in here." His brown eyes, another thing he had got from Dad, could see right through me sometimes. I couldn't play "Superman" around him all the time and fool him like I could with Ponyboy and the gang. "Just… just tell me what's bugging you, will ya, please?"

I gently pushed his hands off of me and rolled on my side to stare up at him. "It's Ponyboy. I don't know what on Earth's the matter with that kid, never usin' his head. If we hadn't gotten to him in time who knows what them Socs could've done to him. They had a blade, Soda…" I couldn't let myself picture what could have happened to our baby brother, and my voice trailed off and we sat quietly again. Soda was glaring at the floor.

"Well, we're lucky we got there in time then, huh?" he asked quietly. "Look Darry, I don't like thinking about it any more than you do, but there ain't no point in thinking about what could have happened to Ponyboy. He'll just think we're worried over him and that we can't trust him on his own, like we're babyin' him or something."

"I am worried over him," I muttered, rolling back over on my stomach with a big sigh. "Thanks for the backrub, Soda, but I think I'm gonna get some sleep now. 'Night."

He sighed too. "'Night, Superman." I heard him get up from the bed and turn out the light and cross the hall to the room he shared with Pony, hollering for Pony to get in bed and turn out their light. I lay there in the dark, my cheek tucked against the pillow, hearing the low whispering coming from Soda and Pony across the hall and feeling more hurt and worried and confused with each passing minute, until it finally grew quiet and my back relaxed and I fell asleep.