Ponyboy fell asleep on the train and I nearly did, too. Kept jerking myself awake. I could see myself falling asleep and we'd travel all the way to Oklahoma City and right into the waiting arms of the cops. Uh huh. No way. So I made sure to stay awake even though Pony's weight on my legs caused them to go to sleep. I couldn't even wiggle my toes.

Windrixville, Dally said. So I counted the stops and tried to shift under Pony to get a little blood back into my legs.

I shook Pony and told him to jump. He did even though his eyes were still shut.

I thought, we both thought the church would be right there but we landed in a field with the slashes of dawn in the sky. I blinked at it. I don't think I'd ever been up until dawn before. And there was nothing. No church. I could barely see a road. Just the field, all wet, getting my jeans wet because I had to sit down and rub the hell out of my legs.

"Damn it, Pony. You put my fucking legs to sleep," He looked sheepish and sorry and then I was sorry.

"Why didn't you tell me to move?" he said, and I noticed how really young he was, just barely 14.

"I didn't want to wake you until I had to,"

He set off toward the road to get directions to Jay Mountain. I could barely walk, he slept on my legs for hours.

He took the gun. It was in the pocket of that huge jacket Dally gave him. I wish I had that jacket. I was always freezing in this stupid jean jacket.

And it hit me then. Sitting in that field with the weird gold and red light of dawn, it hit me. I killed someone. So he had beat me up. I'd been beaten up before and worse by my own father.

I…he wasn't living anymore…because of me. I could have just, maybe, slashed at him with that switchblade, I could have…It was weird, though. It was kind of like I'd lost my mind, all I could think was, "They're killing Pony and they're gonna kill me," and the thought was like a scream in my head.

They had thrown me down and kicked me hard in the stomach, one of them. Goddamn socs. I couldn't breathe. I could hardly move. And I kept hearing Pony saying, "Johnny, help me, Johnny," and I gasped and watched them dunk him in that damn little fountain over and over.

And then I just, I don't know, my stomach still hurt but I could breathe again and I reached for my switchblade and once it was in my hand I didn't feel scared, or tough, or mad. I felt nothing, like I was the one they killed.

So now that kid was dead and I'd killed him. I was a murderer. I looked off toward the train tracks gleaming with the same red gold that was in the sky. Something as ordinary as those train tracks didn't make sense with the knowledge that I'd killed someone.

Then I thought of killing myself. It would be a way out, maybe the only way out. Was I going to hide out with Pony my whole life? But besides that I had done an evil thing. I deserved to die. Pony had the gun, damn it. But I had the switchblade.

I took it out and flicked it open. It gleamed dully in the brighter light. I could just slit my wrists and pray to God for forgiveness all the way down.

But what would Pony do? I couldn't do that to him. I'd dragged him out here with me, I couldn't let him come back to this field and find a corpse. He was so young.

So I put the blade back in my pocket and laid down. I was so tired. I slept until I heard Pony calling my name.