Okay, this is my first attempt at fanfiction. I would greatly appreciate constructive criticism. I know it's a little short, but I think it worked.
Hope you enjoy.
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I don't know why Pony never wants to come with us to talk to girls. They always seem to coo all over him. It's hard to get some attention when you got a hurt kid outside, let me tell you. Poor, wounded bird my ass. I wrapped an arm around Mary's waist and pulled her down. Now let her ignore me to wax poetic about Pony's cheekbones.
We were getting along pretty good, finally, when I spotted her boyfriend, Mike. Damn damn damn. What a clown. First rate hood if there ever was one. I really did not want to get into with him. Mary's just not that cute. She's not even blonde, more of a dishwater blonde. But Mike barely looked twice at us. Trouble in paradise? Too bad, Mary sure is a cutie. But Mike's attention was fully on the window.
"Look at that, Matthews. Seems the kid has himself some trouble again." I felt my blood freeze and both Steve and I twisted in order to stare out the window to see what Mike was talking about. Sure enough, three Socs had Ponyboy surrounded. Steve and I both made moves towards him, but the kid did something that I never would have though. He always was the unpredictable one, I guess. Ponyboy broke his pop bottle and threatened them. Anyone else and I wouldn't have thought twice. But this was little Ponyboy Curtis with his books, and clouds, and sunsets. Pony, who was always in his own head, dreaming of better. Pony, who tried so hard to be like us but just never quite was. I couldn't have been more surprised if he suddenly grew two heads. Oh kid, this is not who you are.
"Dear Lord." Seems Steve is as surprised as I am.
"Kid's finally grown himself a pair, I see." Mike nodded approvingly.
I bristled at the poke at Pony's reputation. Ponyboy's a little guy, probably always will be, but still most people did not want to tangle with Pony. Mostly because of his older brother's reputations as pretty good fighters but Pony was no slouch fighter himself, but could never quite get up the reputation as a tough guy because he was so sweet. God, what a stupid chick word. But, it sure never seemed to bother him. Got to the rest of us sometimes tough.
"Bigger than yours, Higgins." I said instead.
Darry and Soda were talking about being worried about Pony. I didn't take it seriously. Of course he'd be shook up. He saw two of the closest people in his life die in front of him the same day. But this wasn't moping, this wasn't grades slipping. Ponyboy wasn't this guy.
I followed Steve out the door just as the Socs were getting back into their car like Pony would have actually cut them. Socs were never known for being smart, I guess.
Pony turned and looked at us. He didn't look mad, or scared, or surprised. He looked empty. Maybe he would have cut them.
"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" I asked, scared of the answer. I thought back to that night at the movies, when I gave him the bottle, both of us being so sure he would never use it.
"Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them, huh?"
"I guess so," he sighed.
He looked at me funny when he said that. I was feeling desperate and panic-y. I started to ramble, I didn't know how else to get my point across.
I needed him to listen to me. I'm not the person to be having this conversation with him, I just kept thinking. I'm good with jokes and insults, but this is serious. This was too important. We were losing him. Not to social services. Not to the Socs, but to our own lifestyle. He was becoming hard, distant, unfeeling. Like us. Not like him. Darry and Soda had worked too hard to let this happen. He might be the only one of us to make it. And goodness knows that someone has to. Darry lost his chance to poverty and chance. Soda has no ambition. I have no drive. Steve is so angry it will someday kill him. And Dallas and Johnny died before they could ever find out what they could be. The panic-y feeling was rising, threatening to choke me.
"Ponyboy, listen, don't get tough. You're not like the rest of us and don't try to be…" I trailed off; I didn't think he was listening anyway. I watched him, wracking my brain for something to say to make this alright.
"What are you doing?" I said sharply.
"Picking up the glass."
He was picking up the glass. Oh, glory hallelujah. He was picking up the glass. Either he was turning into the most considerate hood it Oklahoma, or he hasn't changed. Well, of course he'd changed. He'd been through too much not to. We all had. But he hadn't changed. He was still the nice kid Cherry met, and the sweet boy my mom adores, and the little gentleman my sister will never admit to having a crush on. He was still the same, just different.
Oh, Jesus. I think today I won't try to get Pony to cut the rest of the day with me. But me? I need a drink.