Ponyboy slouched the last half-block home, the heat of the afternoon sun making him slow. School had been boring, one long sweat box of ornery students who'd rather have been out in the sun or down at the ice cream parlour than inside learning geography.

Pony paused when he reached the porch, his head cocked to the sounds coming from within. One of his brothers was home, or perhaps another member of the gang, judging by what was playing on their beat up record player. It had been years since anyone had tried to play Chuck Berry in the Curtis house.

"Hey Two-bit," Pony called as he pushed open the front door, "you better not let Soda catch you listening to that. Y'know how he is with any of—"

His words died in his throat, his feet glued to the floor. Standing in the kitchen, knife in one hand, was a ghost.

oOo

"Whooee, am I starved!" Soda yelped. He jumped out of Darry's car, not bothering with the door, then gave an almighty stretch. "Thanks for the lift, Superman. I sure am ready for a nice cool one after that day."

"You and me both, brother," Darrel said with an easy smile. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat and his carefully slicked hair fell around his face: It had been a long, exhausting day on the roofs. He frowned when he realised that music was coming from the house, and not the usual kind. "Uh oh."

Soda had also heard and his cheerful face had suddenly contorted into a snarling frown. Before Darry could stop him, Soda has stormed up the steps, slamming open the door.

"Hey, Pone! What in the hell do you think you're doing playing that stuff? Do I gotta smack you to—"

Darrel hit the brakes on his chase as Soda pulled up short, nearly falling over him as the pair stumbled to a stop outside the kitchen doorway.

"Hey there, brothers," Pony said from a kitchen chair. His face was white, his eyes glassy, the gaze uncertain but brittley cheerful. "Look who's come to visit."

Darrel stared at the figure, who had turned at their entrance. Thin and angular, she still had the same wide-set jaw as Soda, the same baby-blue eyes, the same dazzling smile. Unlike Soda her hair was cropped short. She looked like she was in the middle of fixing some food, though whatever it was seemed to have the same creativity and lack of skill as any of Sodapop's inventions.

Darry recovered first. He cleared his throat, letting his voice stay calm and gentle, like he was speaking to a stray dog that might spook. "Hey, Jackie-o. What you doing here, baby?"

At the words, Sodapop seemed to come to life. He turned around and bolted.

oOo

"Hold up there, brother."

Darrel caught Soda's arm before he'd even got both feet out the door. His brother tried to resist but Darrel's strength won out and he hauled him back in, pushing him firmly against the hallway wall with one hand bunched in his shirt.

"Soda…" he murmured, gentling a little when he saw the tears in the corner of his brother's eyes.

"I can't Dar'," Soda whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the strains of Chuck Berry.

…I fight it but it drowns me,

Despite the joy around me…

Soda closed his eyes, squeezing back the pain. Two tears leaked out and dripped from his lashes. Darrel knew what he was feeling; felt it too in his own breaking heart. He let go of Soda's shirt, hand cupping his neck as he pulled his brother in to touch their heads together.

"Hey, Pepsi-Cola, it'll be okay," he whispered.

"Dar'…" they heard Pony calling, hesitant and alone.

Darry turned back to the kitchen, pleased when Soda came with him, even if he did drag his feet.

She was still stood by the counter, her smile gone and her eyes wary. When their gaze met she looked down at her feet, catching her bottom lip in her teeth. She was wearing one of Soda's t-shirts, Darry realised; hanging off her skinny shoulders, looking too big even though she was a few inches taller than her twin. The pants beneath looked like standard jean-overalls, a couple sizes too big judging by the bunching of the waistband at the belt.

Without having to be prompted, Soda stepped forward. He'd wiped away the tears, and all that was left was a bright, happy smile.

"Hey Crackerjack, long time no see."

The girl's head shot up, her eyes wide and bright, smile instantly dazzling. The next moment she was rushing forwards, arms wrapped around Sodapop's middle, head pressed tightly to his chest.

…So give me the chance to renew our romance,

For this time I know it will stay,

For this time I know it will stay….

oOo

Jack was in the bathroom.

The boys watched her go, keeping silent until they heard the door click.

"What the hell?" Pony muttered. He'd been quiet through dinner, more rattled than any of them, barely entering into the stunted conversation that Soda and Darry had tried to carry.

The LP had spun out, the silence unnerving.

Soda glared down at his plate, clean despite the food's near inedibility. His hand still gripped his fork, hard enough that the metal was bending.

"How'd she get here, Dar?" He asked hoarsely. "Why the hell ain't anybody called?"

"Uhh…" Pony cleared his throat and jerked his head numbly toward the phone.

Darrel stared at the wire, pulled clear out of the receiver, the bare copper hanging loosely.

"Guess she's on the lamb, huh?" Pony said weakly.

"This ain't a fucking joke, Pone," Soda snapped.

"Soda!" Darrel hissed, catching the flash of hurt in their baby brother's expression.

Soda took a deep breath then let it out with a shake of his head.

"Sorry, Pony," he said, sounding as tired as he felt, "that weren't fair of me."

"It's okay," Ponyboy said with a sad half-smile.

"It's too late to worry about that now," Darrel said wearily. "Tomorrow I'll head over to the docs, let them know what's going on so they can send someone to fetch her."

"Does she have to go back?"

"Don't start this, Pone," Darry growled, stealing a quick look at Soda, who was looking miserable. "You know as well as we do that—"

The bathroom door clicked open and Darry clammed up, planting the same false smile back on his face by the time Jack re-entered the room.

"Hey, honey," he said.

Jack's smile was serene. She stood in the doorway, looking contented, then headed for the living room. The three boys watched her as she went to the record player, picking out another album from the pile.

…They're really rockin' in Boston

In Pittsburgh, PA…

They watched as Jack nodded and swayed to the music, her smile spreading as she began to dance. She bopped over to the kitchen table, grabbing Pony's hand and pulling him to his feet, swinging with him for a few beats before doing the same with Soda, then Darry.

…All the cats wanna dance with

Sweet little sixteen…

It was like things had never changed. It was years ago, the four of them dancing to Jack's LPs, momma in the kitchen tapping out the rhythm on her pans, and daddy in the garage whistling the tune.

Jack danced like they all remembered, all uncoordinated coolness, the only thing missing her long, curly hair, flying wild.

Soda laughed first, always ready to forget his pain. Soon they were all lost in the music, the troubles of the morning pushed aside for a while.

It was like things had never changed. Before car crashes and frantic phone calls and doctors. Before "nothing we can do", and "it's for the best". Before Dally and Johnny and Mom and Dad.

And Jack danced, her smile bright, her laugh infectious.

Soda wished it would never end.

…Oh, but tomorrow morning

She'll have to change her trend

And be sweet sixteen

And back in class again…

oOo

Soda left his room, shutting the door behind him as silently as possible.

"She asleep?" Darry asked. He was on the sofa, Ponyboy curled up at his side, one arm slung round the kid, stroking his hair. Pony slept, a wrinkle between his eyes the only sign of troubled dreams.

"Yeah," Soda whispered, all the energy rushing out of his with the word. He came to sit on the sofa, hands clasped, hanging between his knees. "Took a while. She wouldn't let go'a my hand."

"You okay?"

Soda began to nod, then stopped to shake his head instead.

"How the hell'd she get here, Dar'? Two hundred miles ain't no joke."

"She musta hitched," Darry said, not liking the idea in the slightest.

"She sure looks like it," Soda grimaced. He sat, staring at the wall, one hand covering his mouth as he rested his chin on the other.

"Come on, kiddo," Darry said with a sigh, "We'll worry about this tomorrow." He stood slowly, easing Ponyboy up into his arms and carrying him to his room. Soda grinned despite himself. Nearly sixteen and his baby brother was still that more often than he'd like to admit.