I do not own the Outsiders. SE Hinton does. Bow to her.
A random dream inspired story. Meh.
Please review.
*
He makes it through his first semester and then during the last month of school drops out.
He can't finish. He didn't even have a chance take his finals, which is how he knows he's really failing. Although, even before he was finished, he was still crapping out at biology and as luck would have it, English. His best subject right down the drain along with the rest of him.
It's simple really. He doesn't register for spring classes, cancels his financial aid, and misses the last month of his classes. No one's the wiser; hell, he wasn't even. Everything had been going fine up until the last month. And now…now he's never wanted so badly to be gone from a place.
So the boy says goodbye—good riddance—to the people on his floor without even bothering to tell them he won't be back. He's so anxious to leave this place he barely packs, only taking his most important possessions: Gone with the Wind, a photo of his parents, a note Soda had written him before he left. The rest can sit to rot.
The Christmas break will give him the time he needs to breathe. At least he hopes. Tulsa is where he can work on his story, get rid of the nightmares.
His hands still shake and his memory's still not right. Words don't mean as much as they used to. He's fortunate if he makes it a day without forgetting a random fact.
He can't trust his self anymore.
*
The ride on the bus is quiet. Having a free seat to his self, Ponyboy curls up against the window. He twitches once and shuts his eyes thinking of his family back at home.
They volunteered to come and pick him up but Pony didn't want them anywhere near the University. It would just be a sneaky deceit. In fact, Ponyboy hasn't even let them know he's coming back tonight. He shudders. Pony can't walk by campus without his skin crawling. So he left, running from something he's worked for his whole life. Regret doesn't even hit him he's so far sunk.
*
It wasn't his fault. And even though he accuses himself that it is, it's a lie. He couldn't help it. But Ponyboy can just imagine what Darry would say. His imagination runs wild until the boy decides it's not worth it to tell anyone.
It's just not.
Pony crawls off the bus amid a snowy and frosty Oklahoma winter. The bus driver watches the kid pause on the dock, clenching his eyes shut as if in pain. The kid moves ahead, grabbing a taxi and the bus driver speeds off, thinking of his own family waiting for him.
It's dark even though it's not late. Ponyboy burrows himself, once again, against the window of the taxicab. He pictures his home, giving the driver his address, stuttering over the street numbers, and settles in for the drive. Pony rubs his palms together. The familiar buildings passing him by don't relieve him, instead making him more nervous. Here, back in Tulsa, people know him. Truly know him.
You idiot," he mutters, wondering what he's doing. They're not stupid; his brothers will know something's up. But he doesn't care. He needs this.
The cab pulls up to the familiar house and Ponyboy hands the driver cash that he's earned at his work-study job. The porch light is on. A veritable junkyard of cars lines the driveway and suddenly Pony is weak in the knees.
*
At first he expects everything to be different. But then he opens the door and remembers he's only been gone five months. Darry's nowhere to be seen but Sodapop and Steve are. Soda, huddled over a game of cards at the kitchen table, doesn't glance up.
"Dar, if that's you," Soda's saying, "Can you get me a beer? Because Steve ain't being no help."
Steve grunts, face buried in his cards.
Pony sets the small duffel bag he's brought down. "Hey Sodapop."
And that's all he needs to say. Twisting around at the kitchen table, Soda's grin rivals the sun. "Kiddo!" Then he's on his feet rushing his brother, hugging him like he's never done before. They're nearly the same height now, Ponyboy a bit shorter, but Soda gets him in a good grasp just like he used to.
After a moment, Ponyboy stumbles back out of Soda's embrace and his brother gets a good look at the youngest one. "Jesus," Soda says, gripping Ponyboy's arm. The boy's frail.
Caught up in his emotion, Ponyboy throws himself back in his brother's arms. "I missed you, Soda. I missed you so much."
Shocked at Pony's appearance, Soda doesn't say much. Instead he strokes Pony's hair and shoots Steve a worried glance. He doesn't ask any more questions of Ponyboy and lets him go to sleep in the room they used to share a mere five months ago.
*
Saturday afternoon rolls around before Darry strolls into the house. Soda's making grilled cheese and drinking a beer. Darry sets his keys on the kitchen table. "I'll take one of those."
"What? The beer or the sandwich?"
"Sandwich."
Soda chuckles. "Doesn't Alice feed you?" He butters another piece of white bread and slaps it into the pan. "Ponyboy got home last night. About ten or so."
In the process of removing his jacket, Darry pauses. "Why didn't you call me?" He drapes it over the back of the chair, bits of snow melting on the brown cotton. "I would've come home." Darry eyes the faithful calendar on the fridge counting down to the Christmas holiday. Pony's a few days early.
Smirking Soda says, "It was late. I figured you were…busy." He flips the sandwiches. "He's still asleep."
Darry frowns, glancing back towards the hallway. "How'd he get home?"
"Took a bus I guess. Surprised me, I didn't know he was coming this weekend."
"Me either." Darry takes the plate Soda holds out. He takes a bite of the sandwich, sitting down at the table. "It's good he's back," Darry muses, chewing.
"Yeah, it is."
"So why don't you look happy?" Darry asks, taking in Soda's all-too-mellow face.
"He don't look happy, Dar." Soda nods at the bedroom. "Just go see."
Darry goes.
*
"Hey, kiddo," Darry says in a low voice. He touches Pony's back. His brother, buried beneath the layers of blankets, doesn't stir. "Ponyboy. You awake?"
Ponyboy sighs softly. "I am now." He wiggles but doesn't emerge. Ponyboy doesn't remember sleep being this good or the last time he's slept without the walls closing in.
"You could have called me," Darry says. "One of us woulda came and got you." Ponyboy doesn't say anything so Darry shakes him again. "You wanna come outta there and come get some lunch?"
Another sigh. "Not really."
Rolling his eyes, Darry stands. "Come on, get up." He gives the burrowed lump on the bed a doubtful look and exits the room.
*
When Ponyboy shuffles into the kitchen 20 minutes later, Darry looks like someone who's just been socked in the face. His brother's rail thin; eyes are sunken, distant, not a hint of the athletic boy he's been.
Ponyboy crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway. "What's for lunch?"
"Slightly soggy grilled cheese." Soda gestures at the plate sitting on the table. "Sit down, enjoy my cooking once again."
Pony smiles slightly, sitting down next to Darry. He wipes his sleepy eyes.
"So, how'd your first semester go, kiddo?" Darry asks.
Paling, Ponyboy picks up the triangle slice of sandwich, holding it awkwardly. "It went okay." Darry keeps staring at him, so Ponyboy just stares at the sandwich in his hand. "Not much different than high school."
Sodapop laughs. "You ain't gotta be modest, kiddo. We all know you're aces."
"Yeah. Right." It's odd, but Darry can swear Ponyboy shakes his head like he's trying to clear it of cobwebs. Disgusted, Ponyboy throws the sandwich back down. "I'm a goddamn brainiac," he snaps.
"Whoa!" Sodapop says, caught off guard at the unexpected outburst. "What're you talking about?" Sodapop glances at Darry: see-what-I-mean?
"Ponyboy, what's going on?" Darry asks. He goes to touch Pony's arm and Pony jumps a mile. "Are you in trouble or something?"
Ponyboy blinks, biting his lip, thinking Darry never trusts him. He crosses his arms, the long sleeved shirt he's wearing, falling over his hands. "I'm sorry guys. Finals were just really tough. I think…I think I probably flunked 'em all."
"Nah," Soda drawls, ruffling his russet-colored hair. "I know you, you done your best. You'll see."
Darry nods. "You're a hard worker." Ponyboy and even Sodapop look surprised at Darry's admission and Darry suddenly feels lower than dirt, realizing that while he's thought it often, he's never said this aloud to Ponyboy. So he reiterates it, to make his point.
"You are, kiddo."
*
Ponyboy catches Soda watching him. Pony sets his book down, drawing his feet underneath him. "What's up, Soda?"
Soda smiles. "I'm just glad you're back. Two-Bit can't wait to see you. I think he's bringing over a 24-pack just for the occasion."
The thought of beer makes Pony's stomach curl. He draws the sleeves of his shirt down. Soda's still watching him. "Aw, come on Soda. Quit starin at me. What's goin on?"
Plopping next to Ponyboy on the couch, Soda wraps an arm around his next. "You're kind of skinny, kiddo." He pokes a jestful finger into Pony's side, wincing as he hits a rib. "They ain't feeding you at college?" What Soda really wants to say is: You look like shit. You look exhausted and miserable and I'll be damned if you weigh what you should.
"I'm just out of shape." Pony shrugs, wanting to go back to his book. "Too busy to eat." But he appreciates Soda's neutrality.
Soda rubs his hands together gleefully. "Not to worry, we'll feed you." Soda's dark eyes swipe over his brother. "We really missed you. I know we should have visited more."
"It's not your fault," Pony says. "We were both busy."
Soda sits back. "Yeah, well. It's no excuse." His eyes light up. "And we have you for a month, so be prepared."
Not just a month, Pony wants to say but clasps his mouth shut. It's not the time.
*
The cuts on the insides of his forearms are about healed, turning to raised white scars. They're long, beginning at the base of the wrist and moving up to the inside of the crook of his elbow. Pony hopes the scars fade; wearing long-sleeved shirts won't be an option in the summer.
They weren't that deep but they're ugly all the same.
*
"What'd you think of the flick?"
"It was okay."
"Kid, I think those are the only words I've heard out of your mouth the last two days." Two-Bit stares at his friend, wondering when the life will shoot back into him, perking him up. According to an ever-anxious Darry, all he's done since being back is sleep. Ponyboy speaks like he has trouble remembering what's next; his words stilted and precise.
"I mean, I take you out, pay for your movie, give you priceless jokes and all you can say is "it was okay"?" Two-Bit cocks an eyebrow. "Hell, even Kathy puts out better than that."
"Guess you better take her out then."
"Oh, don't think I won't."
Two-Bit pulls his truck into the Curtis's driveway, waving to Sodapop and Steve. "So how about this disaster?" Two-Bit asks Ponyboy, his eyes brushing over the silent boy.
The Curtis garage has been turned into a regular auto-body shop. Soda, figuring everyone came to the DX for him and Steve anyways, decided to do some "freelance" work. As news got out, business got better and Steve and Soda bum out at the house every day, doing what they love with no boss around to worry about.
Ponyboy watches Sodapop snap a windshield wiper against Steve's thigh. Soda mouths something and Steve tosses him a random car part. Ponyboy smiles as if it's the only thing he's happy about these days.
"Soda's done real good."
*
"Ponyboy," Darry calls out.
"What, Dar?" Darry's textbooks are strewn across the floor and Ponyboy gets a slight pang in his gut. Two-Bit bypasses him for the fridge.
Darry comes out from his room, shooting daggers at the window. The sounds of Soda and Steve playing the radio and lighting a blowtorch float inside. "Why do they have to be so goddamn loud?" He looks at his brother. "Ponyboy—"
"Aw, you ain't never home anyways," Two-Bit interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at Pony. "Most days he's doing the walk of shame back from his girl's place."
Darry's face turns red and Ponyboy smiles thinly. "So, I take it Alice is doing well?" Pony asks. Two-Bit chuckles, relieved the kid's cracked a joke.
Darry rolls his eyes. "Not you too." He hands Ponyboy a piece of paper. "Listen, someone called for you. A, uh, Richard Morrow. Wants you to call him back."
Not likely, Pony thinks, crumpling the paper in his fist. "Thanks."
"Who's that?" Darry asks, leaning down to retrieve his books, trying not to sound like he's prodding. "Someone from school?"
"Yeah, just someone I know."
*
It's the weekend of Thanksgiving; Darry has to work overtime and Ponyboy has a midterm. Too busy for a visit, they each beg off. And so a bit hurt by Darry's distance and getting talked into it by his roommate, Ponyboy goes to a kegger at one of the frat houses.
It's good. The music's good, the girls are good, and the energy would have sent Soda into a spiral. He drinks enough for a light buzz, keeping in mind the studying he has to make up for in the morning. Pony reaches for his last beer.
*
Please review.
This is a short, short. A few more chapters to come.
FYI: The story title is inspired by Third Eye Blind's "Slow Motion".
Happy Thanksgiving weekend everyone!
