SE Hinton owns, of course. I hope this isn't confusing, the way it's formatted. :)

PART I

I wait a few minutes, staring out my brother for as long as I can. He's eating like he can't see me. I know it bothers him. I know it tickles his bones and flicks his ears, it may even ache a little, that Sodapop means more to me than he does. I almost want to taunt him with it...

'You gave everything up for me, and for what? I still hate you. You stupid bastard. You're working like a dog and I still fucking hate you.'

Though, I only stare. He takes another spoonful of rice. He don't look at me.

A part of me, a very small one, aches for him too. I am sorry, in a way. I see him groan when he takes off his work boots and lies down with a great sigh, putting his feet on the couch. I want to love him, the man who carries bundles of roofing for me, who throws away his own dreams with every old piece of wood and replaces them with mine. It's a shame to me, that he should have to fix so many houses so he could shelter his own. When I really think about it, I am a lucky kid. My brothers love me.

I can almost see the boy he used to be, I think. The one who raced to play football outside when Mom left to go shopping, because it was too rainy and muddy outside and she disapproved. Now he makes up the rules and would kill me if I did something that could get me sick. He used to be more wild back then. He used to drink with his buddies and sneak in through the window, and Sodapop would whine at him to tell 'em all about his night out. He wouldn't. He only told me. I think it's because I'm quiet, and don't rat him out, no matter what. I love Sodapop to death, but even I know he ain't one to keep secrets.

I was asleep, dreaming about horses, 'cause Sodapop couldn't stop dragging me to see them ponies and I couldn't help but worry they'd crush me if they wanted. I wasn't good at making them trust me like Soda. So I suppose it wasn't such a bother to have been woken up at such a late hour. I guess it's how it was done that annoyed me, with both of Soda's hands digging into my arms and violently shaking me awake.

Darry would always gently shake me awake, not as rough as now. I wouldn't have been asleep anyways, since I'd usually dig out my flashlight and read under my covers anyway. But Darry told me some different kind of stories, so I was alright. He would start off with his football game, make it sound like some sort of coming-of-age novel. I'd listen with wide eyes as he would explain the way the other teams glared, even swore under their breaths at him. Darry would smirk when he'd tell me it was fine, 'cause their girls always looked at him a little more favorably.

"What?" I cried, slapping his hands away. "What in the world, Sodapop?" I hissed at him, quite annoyed, but with his grin glowing so happily I had to question him. Why was he even awake and so energetic? He was usually all worn out at night, from running around all afternoon and evening.

He had the wildest stories, Darry I mean, and he would go on and on, face all red with joy and exhaustion and alcohol and the happiness of being alive.

"Darry don't tell me nothing," Sodapop would whine. He'd perk up when I wouldn't join his complaints, looking back and forth from me and the door to the hall, where across from it Darry was watching TV. "No," he said in disbelief, "Don't tell me, he's told you everything!"

"Fine, I won't tell you then," I had grinned.

I knew Dar thought I was just a kid, so he definitely left out a lot of things, but I already have some sort of idea what those things exactly were, based off of this one time Soda found his love letters in his bedroom. I looked at my brother and wondered what it was like to be a winner, to be brave, and to be in love.

If people think Soda is an eavesdropper, they should see Darry, because he stalked on over to our room and pointed to Soda. "You ain't told anything because you piss me off too much. Don't you think I know you'd run off and tell Mom, the second I get into a fight with you?"

"I wouldn't," Sodapop denied, "I wouldn't! Come on. I stay up all night for this shit. Tell me, did you drink or get high? Did ya kiss a girl you haven't even spoken to?" His big brown eyes were round and beautiful, but they didn't work on Darry.

Sodapop turned to me hopefully, but he was soon flipping the two of us off, stalking away, probably feeling left out. Darry grinned at me. Like I said...I'm quiet.

Does he miss the feeling is what I wonder now. Does he ache for it to come back to him- the wins, the girls, football, all his glory? Does he miss joking around with us like that? Does he miss not fearing that he's told me too much? He never opens his mouth now. Never tells me nothing.

I challenge him just to prove it. "Darry?" He looks stunned that I've spoken. "What was work like today?"

He mumbles under his breath. Sodapop shrugs like he understands something I don't.

I was always closer to Sodapop, but I can't help the feeling that I've lost something with Darry, that it's been ripped apart and become something unrecognizable. This man ahead of me, I don't know him. I don't know his pain or suffering, I don't know his yells or complaints, his bruises or tired eyes. He's a stranger sitting at my table, across from me, ignoring my glares.

I know it's my fault he's like this, though. I know I've killed the hopeful, ambitious young man that would sit at the edge of my bed and tell me about his wild nights out. The boy with the football, the boy with the dreams. And I hate who has replaced him, who has pushed him to the shadows. I hate that he exists because of me.