A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. I also don't own the rights to the Simon & Garfunkel song that I used for the title, it just happened to fit like a glove. Please don't sue me!

The house has been filled with silence since Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit left for Vietnam. Pony and I hardly talk at dinner, if you can call sitting on the couch with takeout while your eyes are glued to the TV screen 'dinner'. I don't. We can't tear our eyes away from the news until the national anthem plays. That's when we know to go to bed and not worry until morning. But I know we both still worry. I talk to Soda, even though he's halfway across the world and can't hear me, and I've seen the shoebox stuffed full with letters that Pony writes. I don't think he'll ever send them.

We've each withdrawn into our roles as a coping mechanism. My work consumes most of my time, as does Pony's full-time schedule as a student. They are fulfilling in their own ways, but ultimately, they are hollow victories. Without our family, there's nothing for us except the deafening silence of missing our loved ones. I'm just glad that neither of us will go. We'll be here when they get back. At first, I was worried that Pony would be drafted, but the recruiting officer I spoke to said that college attendance exempts him for a little while at least. I hope the war will be over by the time he graduates. He wouldn't be able to handle the cruel reality of being forced to kill people for politics.

Pony and I haven't grown close at all over this. It seems to me like he's pulling away, like he did five years ago. I guess I haven't been helping much, since all I can do is worry about Soda. He spends a lot of his off time in the cemetery where Johnny and Dally are buried. If it helps him stay away from anti-war demonstrations and drugs, I'm all for it, but I should worry about him more. I just don't because he's home every night. I wonder what he thinks about all this, and what he confesses to the gravestones. Maybe the dead are better listeners than the living.

The downside to watching the news so often is the coverage of the anti-war demonstrations. I agree with their sentiment about the war- I don't think anyone truly wants to fight; it's just something that has to be done. My problem is with the way these kids protest. They make life difficult for everyone else just so you can hear their point. I don't know how many more chants I can take. "One, two, three, four, we don't want your fucking war!" will only get you so far with your congressman. Of course I was as shocked as anyone else at Kent State, but I thought that something like that would happen eventually. Apparently those kids can't figure out how to properly petition a government official.

At least the news actually covers the war and doesn't just spew propaganda like in the past. I've heard that the footage is in color, which would be nice to see, if those color sets weren't so damn expensive. Our little black and white set has lasted for a good long while, but I'd give anything to see the war in color. There's just something about colorized film that brings it closer to home. It makes everything more real, I think. I'd love to see what Soda sees, but it might make me miss him more. Pony says that Cathy's family has a color set, and that's what happens when he sees the footage how it's meant to be seen. I don't think I want to miss any of them more than I already do. It would kill me.

So we sit in silence, and wait for news. News that cycles like a tumble dryer at a laundromat, news screamed from front-page headlines, or news that arrives with a black suit, a little piece of paper, and condolences. It really doesn't matter, since no news is good news. I just want my brother and our friends back. I pray every day that they won't come home in a body bag, but that's always in the back of my mind. I have to be prepared for every possibility, but I hope to God that they all come back alive.