Hi. I'm still here. Still alive. Hopefully going to update my other stories (as cringe-worthy as they are). Typed up this quick little one-shot. Enjoy.


"This," Two-Bit said, waving his hand around at the spectacle in front of him. "is the kind of show you pay money to see." Darry, Sodapop, and I shoot him a look that conveys pure irritation. He takes the hint and sips his beer, avoiding eye contact.

Darry turns his attention to me and gestures to his shirt, wet and clinging to his stomach. He's scathing - literally.

"Why can't you watch where you're going?" he booms, pushing past me and back into his bedroom.

"I said I was sorry," I try again. It didn't work the first fifty times I said it, but it's the only thing I can think of saying. I didn't mean to push into him, jostling his arm and causing him to spill his cup full of hot coffee all over himself. I bend down to pick up the ceramic pieces of the mug off of the floor. I wince when I realize it was my mother's favorite mug.

"'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' I get it Pone," I hear him holler down the hall. "I'm not asking you to be sorry. I'm asking you to pay attention. I'm gonna be late to work now…" he rambles. I ignore him.

Sodapop puts a hand on my shoulder, shooting me a glance that says, Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I'm grateful for Sodapop. He usually takes my side and Darry listens to him. "It was an accident, Dar. It could've been any of us rushin'." He reaches over and slaps Two-Bit on the shoulder playfully. "If it had been Two-Bit, you would've throttled him by now." He laughs, but nothing is funny.

Darry sticks his head out of the doorway and points his finger at Sodapop. "I've enough mind to throttle this one." And I know he means to direct it to me. I look up from the floor and roll my eyes. Hot coffee is all over the rug.

I toss the mug in the garbage and get a towel that's hanging from the sink. I throw it over the sodden stain and press my foot on it, soaking up the liquid. I want to say something back to Darry, to really stick it to him, but I remember my and Soda's conversation from a few days earlier.

"Yeah, go easy on the kid," Two-Bit says, amusement in his eyes. I really wish he wouldn't. "If he's anything like his brothers, he's all looks, no brains." Sodapop shakes his head, unamused. Not the time.

Darry doesn't think it's funny, either. "Watch it, Two-Bit," he says as he pulls a dry black shirt over himself. "Or I may take Sodapop up on his offer."

Two-Bit finishes downing his beer and crushes the can with his hands. He throws it on the coffee table. "Whatever you say, Superman." He gestures over to me. "Let me know when the funeral is. I'll be sure to invite Johnny and Dal."

Steve booms through the front door, oblivious to the mess on the floor and the mess between the three of us. He looks at Sodapop expectantly. "What're you doing? We're gonna be late."

Sodapop touches my shoulder and Darry's at the same time. "Sorry, Steve. Just trying to keep these two from killin' one another."

"Yeah," I say to myself, almost inaudibly. "Death by coffee spill."

Darry turns to me, annoyed. "Do you take anything seriously, Ponyboy?"

"You're overreacting," I say. "It was an accident."

Darry puts his hands up, frustrated. "An accident. Everything is an accident."

"Well, hell, Darry. I didn't mean to bump into you. I wasn't thinkin'."

He scoffs loudly at that and I know I've done it. I fueled his favorite argument. "Jeeze, Pony," he says, real dramatic. "For someone so smart, you sure don't do a lot of thinking."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I said I was sorry."

Darry goes over to the coffee maker and pours himself another cup. Steaming hot black coffee fills a new mug. He takes a sip. Bitter, I think. Like him.

He puts his hand out to me. He always does that when he tries to make a point. "I want you to actually be sorry, Pone. I want you to do better."

"Do better?!" I exclaim, dumbfounded. "Fine, Darry. I'll wake up every morning and avoid your path at all costs. I'll do better." I accentuate the stupidity of the words. Sometimes, we just can't see each other's side of the argument.

Darry rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't be a wise-ass, Pony."

"No," I say, annoyed. "I'll sell a kidney. I'll rip up the rug and put a new one in. I'll pour you coffee for the rest of your life. Then will you accept my apology?"

"Pony," Sodapop says, trying to get me to calm down.

"Whatever." I push past him, Two-Bit, and Steve and out the front door. The screen slams behind me as I clammer onto the porch.

"You see?" Darry yells. "I'm not making it up, right?"

"Kid's a smart-ass," I hear Steve say. "I was half-expectin' a brawl right here. Woulda made being late to work worth it."

"Can it, Steve," Soda warns.

"What?" Steve asks. "The kid's dramatic. I don't blame Darry for…"

I rush down the stairs, annoyed. Even weekends are unbearable in the house. Darry and I are usually fine when we're going off to school and work. When we actually have to confront each other, it's like walking on eggshells.

I pull out a cigarette and light it as I walk down the street. One thing is for sure. I'm not staying in that house today. Maybe I'll go to the park. Or see what Johnny's doing.

But I do that every weekend. I check my pockets, wondering if I can scrounge up enough change to buy a soda at the gas station. Maybe I'll visit Soda and Steve at lunch. Then I scoff. I really wish Steve wasn't everywhere Soda was.

I count the nickels and dimes, surprised at how much money I have. I have more than I thought.

I smirk to myself. I haven't done it in a while and there's a new one out in town. I have all afternoon to myself and it'll keep me out of the house for a while.

Maybe, I think. I'll go see the new Paul Newman movie.


Hope y'all enjoyed. Sorry I've been MIA for so long. As always, review and let me know what you think! Happy 4th :)