"Soda?"

"Hmm?"

He didn't move, so I nudged him with my elbow.

"Look," I answered, nudging him again. "Wild horses."

That perked him right up. He tends to fall asleep on long drives out of sheer boredom. But he sighed now, mesmerized as I was by the strength and glory of the herd as they raced alongside us, striving toward the east.

"Whoa…" he said, stifling a yawn in his sleeve. "There must be three dozen out there…"

Even Darry was interested. There was nobody behind us for miles, so he let up off the gas a little to watch. "Jesus," was all he said, though.

I couldn't take my eyes off them. So strong and wild and free. Carefree, too, for that matter. I thought of the stables back home and of Cherry and the way she talked about breaking horses. She saw it as a challenge…something to triumph over. Only now, watching them, did that seem wrong.

Watching the mustangs barreling across the flatlands, I felt a sudden flood of different emotions. Wistfulness. Longing. Irritation. Loss. Anger. Fear. Elation. It was a lot to have swirling around inside, and although I would wonder about it for the rest of the drive, I would never figure out quite what those mustangs meant to me.

I was still thinking about those horses when Darry pulled into a ratty little gas station in Conway, Texas. Soda burst out of the truck like his pants were on fire. Like I said, long drives bore him. He wanted every minute of freedom he could get before having to squash back in the truck with us for another five hours. I didn't blame him. I was feeling a little itchy, myself.

"Hey, Darry," I said, "I gotta use the bathroom. Do you want anything to drink?"

He squinted at the dented old soda machine and frowned. "I don't think that thing's working, Ponyboy." I shrugged, easing out of the truck. Darry handed me the crutches, which he pulled out from under the tarp. It was threatening to rain again any minute. He smirked and handed me some change. "Don't cry to me if you come up empty handed."

I didn't. It creaked and it groaned, and for a minute I was sure he was right. But Soda carried two Pepsis back to the truck, which was all Darry had given me enough for.

Darry finished with the gas and put the crutches back under the tarp. I wiggled back into the center of the seat and took the bottle Soda offered me through the window. He was going to stand outside until the very last second. That first Pepsi was like heaven, I tell you. Coke would do in a pinch, but Pepsi was the thing I'd craved most in the last couple of weeks.

"Man, those horses were so tuff," Soda said, slapping open the other bottle. Then he caught sight of the satisfaction on my face and laughed. "You really are crazy about Pepsi, Pony."

I didn't disagree. We sipped in silence and waited for Darry to come back from the bathroom. But Soda can't even stand still for too long, and he sure can't stand things quiet.

"What do you want to do first when we get home?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Guess just seeing everybody will be enough."

"Yeah." Soda grinned. "Two-Bit was half crazy when Darry called him this morning. 'Steve said you found Pony. Is he ok? When are y'all comin' home?'"

I grinned. "Hope he left us some chocolate cake."

"Me, too," Soda said. "The food at that place was pretty bad."

I shrugged. "You get hungry enough, you'll think it's the best thing you ever tasted," I replied.

Soda was quiet. He didn't like any mention of camp, and I knew he was sorry he brought it up. I let it drop as Darry made his way back from the bathroom. No sense bringing him down.

"When are we gonna eat?" Soda asked, the sound of the engine nearly muffling his sigh as he slipped into the truck beside me.

"Think you guys can make it to Clinton?"

So we ignored our rumbling bellies. Soda's head dropped back on the seat. He sighed deeply again, resigning himself to being cooped up for another couple of hours. Having finished my Pepsi, I dropped my head against the seat, too. I wondered if we were both thinking about the same thing…the mustangs. And if we were, I wondered if we were both feeling the same weird mix of emotions. Somehow, I doubted it.

As we drifted further and further away from Raton, New Mexico, I found myself aching more and more for home. Some of the weirdness was still there, but it was slowly but surely giving way to relief and a giddy sort of excitement. Things, I imagined, would be as they usually are at our place: guys flung out on the sofa and on Darry's chair in various stages of dress; Two-Bit without his shoes, Tim without a shirt. There would be empty bottles, plates, and glasses littering the coffee table and the floor in front of the sofa, the scatter of a card game either in progress or abandoned while either the T.V. or the radio blared in the background. As soon as we got inside, Darry would growl or full on yell depending on the size of the mess, and the guys would scatter like roaches, grabbing plates, bottles, napkins and other debris on their way to the kitchen. Someone, probably Steve, would use one hand to herd the wayward crumbs from snacks they shouldn't have been eating in the living room into his other hand, only to have someone else, probably Two-Bit, slam into him as he headed for the trash can, and those corralled crumbs would end up down the front of his shirt and on the floor. Darry would roll his eyes and get the vacuum cleaner. Yep, a normal homecoming. No matter how long we'd been gone, it was usually the same.

I pretended to sleep just so I wouldn't have to watch Darry sneak glances at me every few minutes. It just made me jumpier. I would've thought he'd calm down by now, what with leaving camp and all. But if anything, it seems he's gotten worse since we left. I didn't really understand why that would be…the danger was over. I was safe and reasonably sound. No more Kent. No more Charlie. No more Greg. Yet he kept looking over at me. There was nothing in his flat gray-blue eyes to tell me what he hoped to see, but it was clear he didn't find it because he just kept on looking. So I closed my eyes, and I let myself drift.

I wondered about Kurt, stuck in Raton City until at least Tuesday. I thought again about Wade, the unlikely MP. Tustin. Miller. The few friendly faces I'd come away with. My Dad used to say there was a lesson in everything. Try as I might (and I tried until Darry swung off the highway in Clinton), I couldn't figure out just what the lesson of RCJMC was.

Soda and I both opened our eyes and blinked in the early afternoon sun. Gino's Pizzeria, a little brick building between two taller buildings, looked like it had been squatting there since the turn of the century. The sign was broken, so at night it would say Gi o's izz ri. The small front windows were dirty, and the sidewalk out front was badly cracked like a phantom mouth waiting to be fed. But the blast of air that hit us as we pushed open the door was thick with the aroma of Italian food.

Soda was drowsy as we piled into a booth meant for six or eight people. My mouth watered at the spicy scent of pepperoni, oregano, and basil. Darry smiled wanly at the waitress and ordered an extra large pepperoni pizza and three Pepsis. Soda yawned and looked around. Darry and I just looked at each other and searched for something to say to fill the stilted silence. He was giving me those looks again. Or, at least, with my eyes open, I could see him still giving me those looks.

It was fairly empty, but it was about one-thirty on a weekday. I figured most folks were working and that we'd arrived just after the lunch rush. There was evidence to support that guess in the form of several uncleared tables. As if she'd read my mind, our waitress, Sofia, called out,

"Roberto! Clear!"

From my seat I could see into the kitchen a little. She stood like a riled up little bulldog just inside the saloon style doors. A dark haired boy who looked about my age glanced up at her from his book, and then he went right on reading. That pissed her off. The saloon doors stopped swinging, so I couldn't see what was happening, but I could pretty well figure what was going to happen. A faint thudding noise and his yowl of protest confirmed that I was right. I guessed she smacked him upside the head with her chubby palm.

"Ma!" he cried, "I've got to finish this chapter before class tonight!"

"You shoulda read it last night like I told you!"

Darry cocked one eyebrow and smirked. He, too, was listening. I guessed that nagging was the same all over, but I didn't say it. Soda chuckled and elbowed me, though.

"Sounds like Darry," he said. Better him than me. Darry turned his gaze to Soda and said,

"Well, someone's got to make sure things get done. If I didn't ride you two we'd be up to our necks in garbage and dirty clothes and there wouldn't be a single crumb left in the kitchen."

"Think we should stop at the market on the way home?" Soda asked.

You could tell Darry hadn't thought of that and that he was surprised Soda had. "If Steve, Tim, and Two-Bit have been hanging around for two days, I guess we'd better." He sighed and rubbed his face. I felt sorta bad for him then. He was dead tired. I'd slept like the dead for the last two nights, so I had no idea whether Darry had or hadn't slept. Based on his appearance, I'd guess he hadn't. Not well, at least. I was glad tomorrow was Sunday so he'd have a whole day to recuperate before work on Monday.

We didn't talk to one another. We just sipped our Pepsis, waited for our pizza, and listened to Sofia rag on Roberto. I swear she nagged him up and down the restaurant and back. Clear the tables. What's the matter with you? You know how to clean a table! Clean that table up right. Roberto, you forgot to refill the salt and pepper shakers. Put the booster seats away. You've only been working here half your life, Roberto. You should be able to do this with your eyes closed.

And all the while he said nothing except for the occasional "Ma!"

That's just how it would be, I decided as Sofia placed the pizza between us on the table. I nearly drooled as the scents that had hit me as we walked in magnified by about a thousand. I could feel the heat radiating from the pizza.

"Enjoy," Sofia said brightly, dealing plates to us like playing cards. And then she was chasing after Roberto again.

Soda, never good at waiting, burned his fingers grabbing the first slice. Though I thought I'd die if I didn't get to close my mouth over a piece of my own soon, I waited. Darry cracked a grin watching Soda suck on his wounded fingers.

"Serves you right," he said mildly.

When Sofia finished seating a family of four and made her way back to us, Darry and I finally each took a slice, lest she think there was something wrong. Soda, meanwhile, was halfway through his slice. In that way that waitresses have, she chose to ask Soda how it was, and he was forced to mumble his approval through a mouthful of food. Still, this seemed to satisfy her and she turned her attention back to poor Roberto.

That first bite of pizza nearly killed me. I wanted to fall down on the floor and weep as the tangy, cheesy, gooey flavors burst in my mouth. Darry and Soda were both amused at the contented sigh that escaped as I chewed.

It was over far too soon, and we once again were crowding into Darry's truck. We were less than three hours from home, but it still felt distant and a bit unreal. I guess even Soda could tell that Darry was exhausted, because he offered to drive the last leg and Darry accepted. He doesn't usually like to have Soda drive, because Soda drives like a maniac. But I guess the thought of making it home in two and a half hours instead of three sounded good to him, too.

The closer we drew, the more I wanted to get there. By the time Soda pulled into the little corner market at Marsh and Tucker, I thought I'd go nuts. If I hadn't been on crutches, I could've run home in under fifteen minutes. Can't it wait until tomorrow? I wanted to ask. But I just kept my mouth shut and ticked off every excruciating minute they were in the store. It really wasn't all that long, just long enough to get a few staples…TP, eggs, milk, bread, and bacon. Guess Darry figured he could shop for lunch and dinner tomorrow if need be.

I held my breath as Soda wheeled around the corner, turning onto our street. I was horrified at the way my eyes went blurry with tears, and I swallowed as hard as I could, hoping to swallow them down. It seemed to work, because when our house came into full view, it was only as wavy and distorted as it ever was. I knew it would be a matter of seconds before the gang knew we were here, but for those brief seconds I just breathed and stared at the rusty gate, which always hung just a little crooked, and the sagging front porch that Darry kept saying he needed to fix.

Jesus. I was home.

A/N: Sorry to be gone so long. I wasn't expecting my hiatus to last that long, but life got in the way! I can't promise the updates will be as quick this time around, but I promise not to go a year between updates like some folks do! Also, I realize this first chapter is a little low key, but I hope you enjoy it, anyway.