All rights to characters belong to SE Hinton.

Autumn Leaves

Chapter 1

Missing Person

XXX

"Curtis? Hey, you okay?"

Hell no, I wasn't okay. My back and side were kicking my ass. Boss was riding me to get the roof done before the weekend when a pretty bad storm was due to roll in, but with the lazy crew he gave me to do the job, I may as well have been up here alone. The only guy out here besides me worth a damn was Ted; and he was as busy as I was but on the other side of the roof. I wiped the sweat off my face and kept pounding the nails in, knowing each nail was one shingle closer to being done.

"Fine, just fine," I mumbled loud enough for the crew chief to hear. Last thing I needed was him thinking I wasn't able to finish. I needed this check, this one and every check after it. One thing was certain, this living paycheck- to- paycheck load -of- shit wasn't getting me anywhere. Not that I had much of a choice, not with Ponyboy and Sodapop still needing me. Sure, Pony was fifteen now and Soda was less than two months away from being eighteen, but they were both still my responsibility.

Two more hours of backbreaking work later, with the roof all but completed, the foreman called it a day.

"Looks like this should be finished tomorrow, what do you think?" Ted asked as we stood on the roof looking around. The other lazy bastards had already headed down the ladder and were scattering like roaches in the daylight.

"Yeah. Hell, we probably could finish it now if I had the time; now that the laziest people to ever get on a roof have left. My own kid brothers would have been better help than those guys."

"You got that right. The short guy that was with me nearly nailed his own hand to the roof. Idiot. Boss wants cheap labor, but what he should get is skilled labor. However," Ted said, stretching his tired back then turning for the ladder, "I don't do the hiring. I just show up and pound nails all day. I must admit it, though, anytime I show up at a work site and see you around, I know the works gonna be good. Pleasure working with ya, Curtis, as always. See ya in the morning." He clapped my tired back and headed down.

"Yeah, right. Bye Ted." I made it down the ladder and headed for my truck. Soda was off today; I hoped he was home and had made something normal for dinner. I was too tired to play twenty questions with what he was serving. I planned to take a shower before dinner, then beg if necessary for a back-rub.

Glancing at the clock, it was nearly five. Wednesday. Track practice. Even though the season was still a while off, Ponyboy's coach liked to get the team together for a few laps a few times a week; keep everyone in shape over the long winter months before the season officially started. Until January, Pony's schedule would have him coming home late every Wednesday and Friday.

"As long as you keep your grades up, I don't care." I had told him, and he's kept his end of the bargain. If nothing else, he was smart. Scholastically smart. Didn't use his head a lot - like he saw nothing wrong with taking a shortcut through the alley behind the liquor store on rare days when someone in the gang couldn't pick him up after practice. It scares me to pieces knowing how many hoods tougher than him have gotten knifed for as little as a dollar in that same alley. For all my ranting and raving, it just goes in one ear and back out the other.

Just as I always did, I slowed for a look down that alley as I passed it, then headed home. It was empty. No one was getting knifed, raped or mugged in it right then. As I tapped the gas to speed up, I wondered if he'd made it home yet.

The stereo was on along with the television when I pulled up. Grabbing my tools and my thermos, I headed inside.

"The girls got jugs, man, jugs! I'm telling ya, you gotta see them to believe them. Just meet her, that's all I'm saying! Oh, hey Darry."

"Two-Bit, she's stuffing if you think any set of hooters that big are real." Soda laughed from the kitchen.

"He's obviously not had his hands on her." Steve's voice was in agreement. I only wondered how far into this conversation had they all gone.

"You bringing your fantasies to life again, Two-Bit?" I asked, looking around. His shoes weren't in the corner, his jacket not halfway hanging off the couch. Ominous signs of a missing brother. "Hey, is Ponyboy here?" I asked, warily looking in the kitchen at the merry band of misfits.

"Not yet. Should be home soon. Practice probably ran late." Soda said unconcerned, stirring some strange looking stuff in a pot.

"That or he's got his head in the clouds again, walking and daydreaming at the same time." Steve snipped. "He'll never learn."

I ignored Steve's comments, knowing this feud they'd had would continue no matter what I said. "Soda, I'm gonna go take a shower. Listen out for Pony, make sure he goes and starts his homework when he gets in."

"Roger Doger that, boss." Soda saluted with an unconcerned smile. I rolled my eyes and headed for the peace and solitude of the bathroom. There was no quiet, per se. Not in this house. At least not until I made them turn off the TV and radio.

The water surged through the pipes, streaming onto my sunburned, tired skin. I lathered up, grateful to get the tar and grit off my face, neck and arms. For a few minutes, I let the steam and scalding water beat onto my back, easing the aches some. When I couldn't stall any longer, I turned the faucets off, allowing a cacophony of noise to penetrate the walls around me. Elvis was mixing with the evening news – obviously left on by mistake seeing as how Ponyboy and I were the only two in this house who had even the remotest interest in national events. Elvis was winning the war of the noise, but not by much. Wearing only a towel, I crossed the living room and shut the TV off.

"Not your normal attire, Muscles, but it works," drolled Two-Bit from the kitchen where he leaned against a counter holding a half eaten sandwich. He was in my direct line of sight, other heads popped over for a glance at me as I stood practically naked in my living room, dripping on my floor.

"Is Pony home yet?" I grumbled over the radio, fully expecting some "yes" answers to float my way. How he was getting any homework done over this bedlam was a mystery.

However, he wasn't home. The blank looks of the guys in the kitchen staring at each other told me so. I looked at the clock, 6:12. "Don't you think he should have made it home by now?" I asked harshly. Obviously they hadn't noticed the time, so busy stuffing their mouths. I headed to my room to throw on some clothes then came back, tugging on my shoes and snapping off the radio.

"You want me to go out, Darry?" Soda asked, the table already set for dinner.

"No, I'll go. I'm gonna swing by the school and backtrack home. He can't be far. Go ahead and eat if he gets home before I get back." I picked up my keys and wallet and was out the door before anyone could offer anything else.

I headed down the roads I knew Pony would more than likely take to come home on, but the further I went, the more apprehensive I got. Track practice never let out this late. Coach always let the kids go by five. If they stayed later, we always got a call letting us know. It only took thirty minutes to walk it, unless he stopped by the local public library. I pulled in, hoping maybe he was absorbed in a book. I could handle that kind of stress. I wouldn't like it, but I could handle it. It was not knowing where he'd disappeared to and not finding him right away that gave me heartburn.

"Hey Martha." I said to the librarian. She kept an eye out for Pony for me when he was here, but he didn't know that. "I'm looking for my wayward brother again. He here?"

She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye, but was shaking her head. "Nope, sorry Darrel. Haven't seen Ponyboy in a week or so. Anything I can do?"

"Just have him call home for one of us to come get him if he shows up. I don't want him out walking the streets this late at night. I'd better go. Thanks."

"I'll tell him. Good luck!"

I drove off towards the school, hoping against hope he was still there. Maybe he'd found some cheerleader to flirt with. That would be a plausible reason why he'd be late coming home. Not that I wouldn't give him hell and high water for it, but at least it would make sense. After his reaction to leaving Hollis, Mrs. Nixon and that viper Linda, it wouldn't surprise me if his hormones had kicked in and saw nearly every skirt in town with his new, opened, hormonally driven eyes.

God help me.

The parking lot was empty, the building doors locked. Even the outdoor track lights were off. He wasn't here.

"Where are you, Ponyboy?" I mumbled, worry starting to pit in my stomach. I walked around to the rear of the building by the gym doors, knowing the kids used those doors as they were closer to the field than the main entrances, but they were locked, too.

"Ponyboy!" I yelled, waited and listened, but no answer came back. I got back in the truck, flipped on the high beams and drove slowly back towards our house, then changed my mind at the last second and made a u-turn the intersection, heading to the park instead of going straight home. It was the last place I knew to check. It had been nearly a year since that most miserable night of my life - the night I'd hit him, forever changing how he looked at me, how everyone looked at me, and how I looked at myself. He very rarely came here anymore; none of us did.

"Please be here, come on kid … where are you?"

As I circled the park, I saw in the shadows two kids, teenagers by their size and builds, engaged in what teenagers do in dark deserted parks when their parents or guardians aren't around. Hormones! I'd skin him tonight, then set him down for a stern talking-to tomorrow.

I pulled up, putting the high beams right on him, yelling his name at the same time.

"Ponyboy!"

However, the kids that turned to face me, trying to see around the flood of light that was now blinding them, weren't anyone I knew. I'd realized it before they turned to face me, but by the time it registered in my brain, Pony's name had already escaped my lips. The guy had darker hair, the girl had her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was trying to close her blouse with one hand, while the guy she was with was bulking himself up like he could take me. I chuckled at that prospect. He had to be around fourteen and wasn't anywhere as built as Pony. I could knock this kid into next week without blinking.

"Sorry. You kids better get to your own homes." I said as I started to back up.

"And who the hell are you?" The pipsqueak asked, stepping towards me. Obviously, he still couldn't see me. I sighed as I got out, knowing this wasn't going to take long.

I got in front of my truck, letting the high beams embellish my 6 foot plus frame and tired, bulky biceps. This kid was not going to hurt me.

"Kid, if you want me to be your worst nightmare, I can be that. However, I suggest you take your lady to her home, then high tail it to your own. This ain't your night, trust me. Now beat it."

"Bobby, let's go."

At least the girl had sense. The kid backed off and together they headed back across the park.

Wearily I walked over to the fountain, reached down and let my fingers trail in the water. It was cold, but nowhere near as cold as it was a year ago. Last year, ice had formed in an extremely rare early frost. Pony'd had no coat - not even a shirt with sleeves. I had been at the hearing and had read the transcripts of what had happened; how Pony and Johnny stood here as five kids – his attackers practically grown men themselves – beat Johnny and held Ponyboy under the water.

Countless nights of sleep have been lost as I wondered what horrors he had to have felt - his arms pinned, his legs restrained as one of them forced his head down and together they all held him below the surface. What had he thought? What had he screamed? I knew he had to have screamed something … he wouldn't go down with out a fight. He was smaller than the rest of us but he was tough, a very good fighter for his size. Soda and me had taught him to fight, and we both knew he was good. He had to have fought hard, but one small kid against five drunk juniors and seniors didn't even give him a chance.

Had he cried? Had he begged? I didn't know. None of us did. That part wasn't brought out at the hearing, nor did he mention it in the essay he wrote on the subject. The secrets died with Johnny. Even to this day, Ponyboy won't talk about it. Not even to Soda.

Standing up, I wiped the fountain water off on my jeans and looked around. Where was he? Damn it! I headed back to the truck and gunned the engine to go home. I'd looked everywhere I knew to look, if he wasn't home I'd send the guys out and hit the phones just like I did last year. And if he wasn't home by curfew, I was going to call the police … again.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose