This is my English assignment – we had to write an alternate ending to the book. Mine begins on page 210, and the parts in bold print are from the novel. Review please! This is my first story on Fanfic!
Jeesh I'm nervous… :P
"…you don't quit! And anytime you don't like the way I'm running things you can get out."
I went tight and cold. We never talked about Dallas or Johnny.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like me just to get out. Well, it's not that easy, is it, Soda?"
But when I looked at Soda I stopped. His face was white, and when he looked at me his eyes were wide with a pained expression. I suddenly remembered Curly Shepard's face when he slipped off a telephone pole and broke his arm.
"Don't... Oh, you guys, why can't you..." He jumped up suddenly and bolted for the door. Darry and I were struck dumb. Darry picked up the envelope that Soda had dropped.
"It's the letter he wrote Sandy," Darry said without expression. "Returned unopened."
So that was what had been bugging Soda all afternoon. And I hadn't even bothered to find out. And while I was thinking about it, I realised that I never had paid much attention to Soda's problems. Darry and I just took it for granted that he didn't have any.
"When Sandy went to Florida... it wasn't Soda, Ponyboy. He told me he loved her, but I guess she didn't love him like he thought she did, because it wasn't him."
I raised my hands. "You don't have to draw me a pic - - -"
"Get your hands offa me! Y'all just leave us be, will ya?" Soda's yell cut me off.
Darry gave me a startled look.
"Sodapop! What's going on?" He pushed me aside and strode to the door. A stocky man in a suit stood on the front porch, pointing a finger at Soda.
"Master Curtis, we are going to ask you nicely only once. Come with us, or we will take you by force."
Darry exploded.
"What the heck is going on here?!" he bellowed, and the man didn't so much as flinch. I sure knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of Darry's rage, and to stand your ground was near impossible.
"I represent the Children's Welfare Department. The council has received concerns from a reliable source that the family situation in this household is not entirely stable - - -"
"Not entirely stable?! What the heck is that s'posed to mean?!" Darry glared.
The man raised his eyebrows.
"I'm afraid I heard that argument from down the street, son. I'm here to collect Ponyboy and Sodapop Curtis."
Time seemed to stop.
Darry was speechless. He shook his head, eyes closed and his face contorted in agony. He seemed to be yelling, but I couldn't hear anything over the ringing in my ears. Darry shoved me back inside and grabbed for Soda, but more men appeared from the shadows and wrestled him to the wall, as the others dragged Soda to the car. All at once my hearing flooded back.
"SODA!" I was screaming. "Leave him alone! Don't let them take him, Darry! Don't let them!"
Darry turned to me, and his eyes were filled with panic.
"Run, Pony, run! You're faster than they are!"
I stared at him in disbelief. "GO!" He ripped his eyes away from mine and swung a punch at one of the men.
I barged through the brawl and flipped easily over the balcony. I wanted to do what Darry said and make a run for it, but I hesitated.
Don't play the hero, Pony. Remember what happened to Johnny.
Johnny was gone. So was Dally. I wouldn't let any more of my family be taken away from me.
The men were still struggling to get Soda into the car. One had a hand on his head and was pushing him into the seat, but Soda writhed out of his grip and sank his teeth into the man's fat finger. Stupid Sodapop. Just made him angrier. I saw the man turn to Soda in fury with his fist drawn back, and before I had time to think, I charged out of the shadows screaming bloody murder. A loud snap echoed through the yells as I wrenched on the man's poised arm.
"Nobody hits my brother," I hissed coldly. Something connected hard with my head, and the noise faded into a muffled drone.
Only Darry's scream rang clearly in my mind before everything went black.
***
"Ponyboy? Pony, wake up…" Someone shook me roughly awake and I twisted in the bed sheets.
"Darry?" I blinked groggily. Through my half-closed eyes I saw Soda sigh and turn his head away.
"Nah, kid. Its me."
"Soda…" I said slowly, smiling with relief. "I thought they got you."
He didn't say anything. Something wobbled the bed, and I saw him hack away a piece of mattress with his switchblade. It fell to the pile of shredded foam already on the floor.
"Where's Darry?" This time Soda glanced up, and I saw pain in his eyes before they closed, leaking a single tear onto his cheek. My throat tightened in panic and I struggled upright. "They took him, didn't they?" My voice grew louder and I choked on my words. "He's gone. They took him away, Soda! What are we gonna do? Darry's gone…"
Soda shook his head insistently and pushed me back onto the pillow.
"Shush, Pony, shush. It ain't Darry they took." His face was expressionless, but his voice wavered. "It's us."
In an instant the room turned hostile. I stared in horror at the unfamiliar ceiling. The crisp white sheets printed with government labels. A bed on either side of the room. Cold tiled flooring. We were far from home.
"Where'd they stick us?" I swallowed.
"Boys' home." Soda plunged the blade angrily into the mattress. "We ain't gonna be here long, Pony. They can't keep us. We're gonna escape." His face lit up with fiery determination. "Windows…" He leapt to his feet and drew the heavy curtains. "Barred," he muttered. "Like a bloody prison cell."
"What's wrong with the door?"
"Locked, of course." Soda slumped back onto the bed and leant against the wall, rubbing his face.
…you'd be chucked in a boys' home so fast it'd make your head spin…I needed Darry.
"Whata we gonna do, Soda?" I asked shakily, my eyes welling up. "What the heck are we gonna do?"
Soda pulled me into his arms and wrapped me into a hug.
"Calm down, kiddo. We're greasers. Tough hoods, yeah?" He gave me what he thought was a reassuring smile. "We'll get out of this mess."
The lock clicked and the door swung open. A lady poked her head into the room.
"Food," she called boredly, and placed a tray on the floor. "Next meal is breakfast so don't waste it unless you want to starve. I'm coming to collect your dishes at half ten."
Her head disappeared and the door slammed shut.
"Such a friendly woman…" Soda muttered.
"Forget that - she brought us food," I moaned, my stomach growling. "That's all that matters."
I brought the tray to Soda and we gulped the meal down ravenously before clambering back into bed.
"This mattress ain't big enough for the both of us," I yawned.
"Shut it," Soda replied, and shoved me over to make some room. "You wanna sleep with the light on?" He asked after a while.
"Yeah," I admitted quietly. He adjusted the sheets and then lay still.
"Me too."
My eyes closed heavily. It should have been impossible to sleep, but exhaustion engulfed me in seconds.
***
I woke up late next morning. That time, when I woke up in the church not knowing where in the world I was – it was like that.
It's late and both Darry and Sodapop are up. Darry's cooking breakfast, and in a minute he and Soda will come in and drag me out of bed and wrestle me down and tickle me until I think I will die if they don't stop. It's me and Soda's turn to do the dishes and afterwards we will go outside and -
But this time it was no use pretending. I knew where I was.
If only Darry knew where I was. He would storm through the entire boy's home and knock out anyone in his way until he got to our door. He would stand at our room triumphantly, yelling for us to get in the car to go home.
If only.
I heaved myself off the bed and rolled my shoulders and neck. I felt stiff, like I had been cramped in a corner the whole night. Knowing Sodapop, I probably had. I pulled back the curtains and morning light streamed through the bars to strike Soda's eyelids. He grunted and his hand flew to cover his face.
"Glory, you have a set of lungs on you, Pony," He groaned.
"What?" I was puzzled, and he raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.
"Screamed the bloody place down. Hardly slept after, my ears were ringing something awful."
"Sorry." I winced, realising how raw my throat felt. Sodapop yawned and looked at me solemnly.
"Same as when you were in hospital. Screaming for Darry and me."
Neither of us spoke. He broke the silence first. "Christ, Pony. You know what I did? You know what I was gonna do?" I could hear him tripping over his words, and his voice caught like there was a knot in his throat. "I was gonna run away, remember? You were arguing and I was gonna get outa there. Now I wish I hadn't gone for that door. If only – if only I hadn't. Now there's no going back." He wiped his eyes on his arm and kicked the pile of shredded mattress in frustration. Tiny bits of foam scattered across the room.
"Snap out of it, Sodapop," I said gently, rubbing his back. "We're gonna get out of here, you said so yourself. And everything happened so quick. Staying put wouldn't've made a difference. You woulda answered the door anyway." Soda nodded and gulped.
"Guess so."
The door creaked shut, and our tray of breakfast was already in the room. I was grateful that the lady hadn't interrupted, especially since Soda was so cut up.
"You wanna eat?" I asked. He shook his head, eyeing the tray suspiciously.
"I swear, there was something funny in the food last night. Never felt so drowsy in my life." He sniffed and screwed up his nose. "Wish I had a fag right now."
"Me too. I feel lousy." I paused. "And some cards." Soda looked at me quizzically. "I wish we had some cards, to play poker and pass the time," I explained.
Soda half smiled.
"And some hair-grease." He added.
"And a book."
"And a fast car."
"And Darry."
"And Darry," Soda agreed wistfully, and his expression was thoughtful. "You wanna know why I reckon we're not being let out?"
I leaned back.
"Let's hear it."
Soda grinned menacingly and leaned forward so his face was close to mine.
"We're dangerous."
I chuckled.
"Course we are. You could see the food lady shaking at the sight of us."
Soda had cheered up, I felt as if we were back at home and joking around as usual.
"Isolated for everyone's safety. Dangerous delinquents!" his face glowed with pride and he suddenly remembered something. "You broke that man's arm last night, Pony. He was gonna bash my head in, and you snapped it clean in half. That was mighty gallant."
I felt my cheeks flush and I looked at the floor.
"I had to do something. I couldn't let him hurt you." I frowned, realising I had no recollection of anything after stopping the punch. "Did I get knocked out?"
Soda nodded slowly.
"You got a headache?"
"Yeah…"
"That would be why." He smirked and eyed my forehead. "Bruised. Makes you look tuff. Socs ain't gonna wanna mess with you no more."
I sighed.
"Seems getting hit in the head is becoming a regular thing for me." I heard a strange sound coming from the window. I laughed. "Golly, now I'm hearing things!"
Sodapop looked at me, stunned.
"Shoot, Pony, I hear it too!"
"Coming from the window?" He nodded. In a second we were there, hands cupped to see through the glass. "Open it, open it!" I cried, and Soda heaved the glass panel up. A cold rush of fresh air chilled our faces and I shivered with cold. The noise had stopped.
"Pony, ain't you got nothing warmer? You're gonna freeze!" Soda took one of his arms out of its sleeve and wrapped half of his jeans jacket around me. My teeth stopped chattering and we knelt there, listening keenly.
"Reunite the rescuers!" Sodapop and I exchanged a glance. So I wasn't imagining it. A distant cry, carried closer by the wind.
"Bring back the brothers!"
"Send the hoods home!""Lordy, Soda! Someone's coming for us!" I leapt to my feet and turned to charge at the door, ramming it with my shoulder. "Help me!"
Still in shock and wide-eyed, Soda followed my lead.
"One, two, three!" He bellowed, and we charged again. There was a cracking sound, but our effort left only a thin split near the hinges. "One, two, three!" My shoulder ached from the impact, but all I could think of was getting out. Back to Darry. "…two, three!" Another hit.
Finally Sodapop stepped back, grimacing. "We're getting nowhere, Pony."
I could still hear shouts from outside. I desperately raced back to the window and screamed at the top of my lungs.
"UP HERE!"
The chanting carried on – and it was getting louder.
Then the crowd came into view.
"Shoot." Soda cussed under his breath.
"How many d'you reckon there are?"
"Gotta be fifty, at least." The crowd surged towards the gates of the boys' home, chanting in unison and screaming our names.
"Glory be – Soda, I see the parents of the kids! The ones from the fire!"
He glanced at me, startled. "I remember seeing them leaving the hospital after they visited Johnny… I'm sure it's them!"
The mob shook the iron gates violently, and a tall, dark figure with shiny hair vaulted them with ease and sprinted towards the entrance.
Soda choked.
"Is that…?'
"Darry."
We lost sight of him, but from the delighted shrieks of the crowd, we guessed he had made it inside. I sat down on the bed, my head reeling. "Now what?"
Soda grinned and bit his lip. He stabbed the mattress nervously, and I realised he hadn't let go of his switchblade since the night before.
"Now we wait."
Sounds of movement came from outside out room. Quick footsteps and mumbling. I heard a man order everyone back into their rooms and assure them that everything was under control.
"Ponyboy! Sodapop!" Darry's voice was close.
Soda and I hammered on the wall.
"Darry! Over here!" Footsteps pounded towards our door and there came a thud that made the walls shudder. He was trying to barge the door down, like Soda and I had just a few minutes earlier.
"I'm coming! Hold on!" There was another thud, then quiet. "Lady, can I borrow a key to this room?"
"Whatever."
Soda looked at me pointedly.
"The food lady!" I would have laughed, but the mood was too tense. Darry was on the other side of the door. I could hear him fumbling the keys into the lock, and the door swung open. The moment I saw him, I realised that Darry, in this situation, could never feel triumph, as I had expected him to. He wore the look of defeat that I had seen on his face too many times in the past months.
"You guys…" he muttered, stumbling towards us and squeezing us in his embrace. "How many more times am I gonna lose you, Pony?" He sobbed into my hair. "Never again. We're moving away. Far away." I pulled away and studied his face, startled. He smiled through his tears and lifted Soda's chin. "I got a promotion. We're going to Florida, Sodapop. She called – Sandy called. She talked to her parents… she wants you back." Soda looked as if he had won the lottery and been slapped in the face at the same time. Darry hugged me again and whispered close to my ear so Soda couldn't hear. "She has a bump."
I blinked and grinned.
Shoot. A mini Sodapop. And I'm gonna be his uncle.
"What 'bout Steve and Two-Bit?" Soda asked, his face falling. "We can't leave them alone here."
Darry grinned and mussed up his hair.
"I bullied Two-Bit into getting a job, and Steve's saving up. They're gonna join us next year. 'Till then they can look after themselves."
A cough came from the doorway, and I spun around to see Two-Bit leaning against the wall.
"An' I ain't too happy 'bout working, neither." He winked at us and aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "Look, I hate to break up the family reunion, but…"
"We're going," Darry assured him. "You two ready to run? Two-Bit, you get the car. The fuzz are gonna turn up any minute now - the protest will hold 'em up for a while but we gotta be gone."
My eyes glinted.
"Race you," I challenged. Darry led us down the corridor and we split from Two-Bit once we got out the back door. It was a real nice morning for a race. The air was clear and cold and so clean it almost sparkled. Once the protesters were out of earshot, it was quiet except for the sound of our feet on the cement and the dry, scraping sound of leaves blowing across the street. It was a real nice morning.I hadn't realised how close we had been to home. It should have been an easy win for me, but I guess I was still out of shape, because we all three tied. No, I guess we all just wanted to stay together.
Sodapop phoned Sandy the moment we stepped inside. Darry and I watched eagerly from the kitchen. Poor Soda, he was so nervous. He paced around the room, with the phone cord entwined round his finger, and he spoke quietly at first.
"Hey Sandy. I've missed you so much…" There was a silence, and then I guess Sandy broke the news pretty early one, because Soda dropped the phone. He turned in shock to face us, and I couldn't work out what was going through his mind until an enormous smile cracked across his face and he lost control, jumping around the room and hugging my, lifting my feet clear of the ground.
"Congratulations, little buddy," Darry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. Soda raised his eyebrows and eyed us both suspiciously.
"You knew, you little buggers! You wait till I finish this phone call…" He hurried back to the phone, to discover that he had accidentally ended the call when he dropped it. I wrung my hands anxiously.
"Phone her back quick! She'll think you hung up on her!" Soda stuck his tongue out and gave me a shove before dialing Sandy's number. I headed to my bedroom to give him some privacy, and Darry followed me to ask if I had started my English theme yet. Homework was the last thing on my mind that night – I avoided it and instead hunted around for a book to read, but I'd read everything in the house about fifty million times, even Darry's copy of The Carpetbaggers, though he'd told me I wasn't old enough to read it. I thought so too after I finished it. Finally I picked up Gone with the Wind and looked at it for a long time. I knew Johnny was dead. I had known it all the time, even while I was sick and pretending he wasn't. It was Johnny, not me, who had killed Bob – I knew that too. I had just thought that maybe if I played like Johnny wasn't dead it wouldn't hurt so much. The way Two-Bit, after the police had taken Dally's body away, had griped because he had lost his switchblade when they searched Dallas.
"Is that all that's bothering you, that switchblade?" a red-eyed Steve had snapped at him.
"No," Two-Bit had said with a quivering sigh, "but that's what I'm wishing was all that's bothering me."
But it still hurt anyway. You know a guy a really long time, and I mean really know him, you don't get used to the idea that he's dead just overnight. Johnny was something more than a buddy to all of us. I guess he had listened to more beefs and more problems from more people than any of us. A guy that'll really listen to you, listen and care about what you're saying, is something rare. And I couldn't forget him telling me that he hadn't done enough, hadn't been out of our neighbourhood all his life – and then it was too late. I took a deep breath and opened the book. A slip of paper fell out on the floor and I picked it up.
Ponyboy, I asked the nurse to give you this book so you could finish it. It was Johnny's handwriting. I went on reading, almost hearing Johnny's quiet voice. The doctor came in a while ago but I knew anyway. I keep getting tireder and tireder. Listen, I don't mind dying now. It's worth it. It's worth saving those kids. Their lives are worth more than mine, they have more to live for. Some of their parents came by to thank me and I know it was worth it. Tell Dally it's worth it. I'm just going to miss you guys. I've been thinking about it, and that poem, that guy that wrote it, he meant you're gold when you're a kid, like green. When you're a kid everything's new, dawn. It's just when you get used to everything that it's day. Like the way you dig sunsets, Pony. That's gold. Keep that way, it's a good way to be. I want you to tell Dally to look at one. He'll probably think you're crazy, but ask for me. I don't think he's every really seen a sunset. And don't be so bugged over being a greaser. You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still lots of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows. Your buddy, Johnny.
Tell Dally. It was too late to tell Dally. Would he have listened? I doubted it. Suddenly it wasn't only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn't believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me. I picked up the phone book and called my English teacher.
"Mr Syme, this is Ponyboy. That theme – how long can it be?"
"Why, uh, not less than five pages." He sounded a little surprised. I guess I wasn't the boy he had labeled as 'keen'.
"Can it be longer?"
"Certainly, Ponyboy, as long as you want it."
"Thanks," I said and hung up.
I sat down and picked up my pen and thought for a minute. Remembering. Remembering a handsome, dark boy with a reckless grin and a hot temper. A tough, towheaded boy with a cigarette in his mouth and a bitter grin on his hard face. Remembering – and this time it didn't hurt – a quiet, defeated-looking sixteen-year-old whose hair needed cutting badly and who had black eyes with a frightened expression to them. One week had taken all three of them. And I decided I could tell people, beginning with my English teacher. I wondered for a long time how to start that theme, how to start writing about something that was important to me. And I finally began like this: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…