***Ponyboy's POV***
I really believed that it would never happen again, but I guess that was just too good to be true. Sodapop might have been more shocked than I was, though. The second Darry's hand connected with my face, time seemed to stand still. I fell down to the floor while Darry and Sodapop stared down at me with wide eyes. I stared back, too, but only at Darry. He had hit me again. I could barely believe it. Our gang, or what was left of it, was just as shocked. They stood behind me. Nobody moved. Nobody talked. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody stopped breathing.
Surprisingly, Steve was the first person to snap out of it. "Darry, what the fuck didja just do?" he asked, venom sinking deep into his words.
The next person to do anything was Sodapop. He fell to his knees in front of me and examined the side of my face. He pulled his shirt off and pressed it to my bleeding nose. I was fairly certain it was broken, but I didn't put much thought into it. "Oh, Pone, are ya alright?" he asked. I think he knew that was a stupid thing to ask the moment it escaped his lips but he couldn't turn back time to stop himself from saying it. If we could turn back time, changing what he said would be the least important thing to fix. We could turn it back so Darry didn't hit me. We could turn it back so Johnny and Dallas didn't die. We could turn it back so our parents never got in that accident. There were so many more important things to fix in life that we would never get the chance to.
"Pony, I...I'm sorry," Darry stuttered. I was still staring at him when the fist came in contact with his face. It knocked him off balance but he stayed on his feet. He grabbed where he was hit and stared up at his attacker. It was Two-Bit. The funny man of our outfit just hit the unofficial leader. I was scared for my friend. I was sure Darry would let him have it. That never came, though. Darry just lowered his face to the floor as Two-Bit started shouting.
"What the fuck, Darry?! He's your fuckin' brother! Didja forget what happened the last time you laid a hand on 'im?!"
"I'm sorry."
The words didn't come from Darry. They came from me. Four pairs of shocked eyes looked down at me. I gently removed Sodapop's hand from my face and stood up, not looking at any of them anymore. I continued to hold Soda's shirt to my nose because I didn't want to stain the carpet with my blood. I was using my head for once. "What are ya apologizin' for, Pone?" Soda asked, keeping his voice calm and steady. I think it was to keep me from exploding in tears or something. It was like the night of the rumble. He was talking to me as if I was a wounded animal.
"I'll listen better next time, Dare," I said quietly, still avoiding all eye contact. "I'm sorry. I'll just be in my room."
"Kiddo, wait," Darry said as I walked past him.
"Leave 'im be," Two-Bit snapped. "Someone else will handle this."
I shut my door quietly and laid down on my stomach in bed. I was in my room. It was only my room again. Me and Sodapop had stopped sharing a room shortly after we lost Dallas and Johnny. It was my idea. He was against it at first but I convinced him that I'd be okay. I wanted to grow up. I couldn't depend on my big brother to hold me every night for the rest of my life so I didn't experience a horrible nightmare again. The first few nights of this set up were difficult, and we all went a little sleep deprived. I woke up screaming the first three nights, but then I started waking up on my own without the screaming. Another week or so of that and I stopped waking up. I don't know if I was still dreaming when I stopped waking up. I could never remember anything I had dreamed about, so I wasn't sure if I stopped having nightmares or if I just couldn't remember having one. Either one was fine with me. I slept through the night and I wasn't scared of sleeping. I told Sodapop that and he smiled and said that he was proud of me. I think he was hurt a little bit. I'm sure he meant that I didn't need him anymore. Sodapop wanted to still feel like he was needed as a big brother. I made sure to let him know just how badly I needed him. I couldn't get through without him. Only at night could I handle myself, and that was because I knew that I'd be on my own one day. I had to grow up. I was grateful that he let me.
I heard the argument happening in the living room. It was between Darry and Sodapop. Those two never fought. Darry never even hollered at Sodapop. Except for that night when Darry hit me the first time. Darry always hollered at me, though. At least Soda never did. I guess it was my fault in the end for Darry yelling at me the way he did. I just don't use my head.
At first I didn't think that what happened was as horrible as Darry was making it sound. I came back from track an hour later than I normally did. Me and a few members of the track team stayed after practice to put in a few extra laps. We wanted to be prepared for our championship meet that was coming up that Saturday. It was three days away, and we had been putting in so much more work so we could place in something. We all were in different events, and we wanted to win first place in at least one of those individually. We were all in the relay, too, so it made sense for all of us to practice together. I hadn't let Darry know ahead of time that that was my plan because we didn't decide to do that until practice had ended.
Afterwards, I walked home like I normally would have. I had forgotten that I was grounded for bringing home a D on a math test. I didn't think the D was my fault, either, at first. I had missed a day because I had a fever and I missed some important concepts that were on my test the day I came back. I wasn't prepared for it because the test was announced the day I wasn't there. The class only had one day to study. I had none. Nobody had let me know, of course, because everybody in my class were all Socials. So I got a D and two weeks of house lock down.
When I got home, Darry went crazy. Soda was able to quiet him down and ask me why I was late. When I answered him, Darry only started yelling again. Sodapop had tried to reason with him that I was only practicing, but Darry didn't want to hear it. Two-Bit tried to help me, too. He was saying that he shouldn't have been yelling at me because he was worried. It made sense that Darry was yelling because he was worried. He was probably worried that something bad had happened to me, and then he got mad when he realized he had no reason to worry at all. So, at the end of it all, it was my fault for making him worry about me. Before he hit me, I hadn't realized that. I started yelling back because the one-sided yelling match wasn't exactly enjoyable. I barely got out a sentence before he swung his hand back and hit me. As I hit the floor, I realized that it really was my fault. That's why I apologized.
I tried to block out Darry and Soda's yelling, but it was hard. Sodapop was telling Darry how stupid he was for hitting me, and Darry was yelling back that he didn't mean to. In general, that's how their argument was going. They were just repeating the same thing over and over in different ways. I sighed to myself and tried to push myself further down into the mattress. I ignored the knock on my door because, to tell the truth, I had started to cry. I wasn't crying loudly or anything like that, but there were still tears in my eyes. The person came in and a part of me thought it was Sodapop even though I still heard him yelling at Darry.
"Hey, kid," the person said. It wasn't Sodapop, of course. It wasn't Two-Bit either. It was Steve. Steve Randle, the person who hated me. Sodapop's best buddy, who only put up with me because I was Sodapop's little brother. I felt his weight shift the bed as he sat beside me. "That hit didn't hurt ya too bad, did it?"
To tell the truth, it did. My nose was still gushing blood onto my pillow, but I barely realized it. My face was already swelling, and I was going to have a horrid bruise. I was already trying to figure out lies to tell the school if they asked me what happened. I was the only kid they paid attention to. They didn't care about the other greasers who were abused at home by their parents. The school only cared about me because I was technically an orphan. It was their job to watch out for me. I figured I could have told them I took a nasty fall at track. That wasn't exactly a lie because I did, but the track coach would have said that I didn't hit my face, which was also the truth. I couldn't say I was jumped walking home because then I'd have to blame it on random Socials, and Darry would still get in trouble for letting me walk home from the school.
"'m fine," I said, keeping my voice as normal as I could. It was shaky but not from the tears. My noise was definitely broken. I think everybody knew that. They had to of known it. They all have seen a broken nose before.
"Darry loves ya, ya know," he said after a long moment of silence. I didn't know why he was in there. He didn't like me. He might have even went as far as to say he hated me. He probably despised me. I was nothing to him. I was nothing to most people. "Darry loves ya lots."
"I know," I said softly. I knew that Darry loved me. He had to love me if he got so worried about something happening to me that he hit me. If he didn't love me he would have put me in a boys home. I figured he loved me, but he didn't like me. "I know he does. It's okay. You don't havta come in 'ere an' try to tell me he didn't mean it an' all that. I already know he loves me."
"Gosh, kid, sound a little more heartbroken," he said, but I don't think he meant anything smart by it. I was trying to sound okay, but I guess some of the sadness got through. I knew I deserved the hit I got, but that didn't take away the pain I felt emotionally because of it. "Here, turn 'round. Lemme see your nose."
"It's broken," I said, not doing what he said. I didn't want to be defiant and get hit again, but I didn't want him to see me crying even more. I was supposed to be tough. Tough kids don't cry.
"I know. Lemme fix it, 'kay? Then I'll leave ya 'lone 'till ya ready to talk." Without waiting for me to do anything, he grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over. He eyed my face for a moment before reaching for my nose. "This might hurt, kid. I don't mean for it to," he said, ignoring my tears. I didn't blame him. He was probably trying to be nice so I didn't have an emotional breakdown. He didn't care that I was crying. If anything, it probably made him hate me more. He gave me a moment to prepare myself, and then he snapped my nose back into place. I didn't dare let myself cry out. I had already seemed weak enough in front of him. "There. That should be okay. Sorry if it's a bit crooked, but it's better than most other people would've done."
"Thanks, Steve," I said quietly, watching him stand up. He nodded at me and left, but I did catch the look of worry on his face. I couldn't understand why he would look like that. Maybe he felt bad because Soda felt horrible. He probably felt bad for Sodapop. I did, too. He didn't deserve to be the middle man.
"Kid looks like he's ready to shoot 'imself. Hope you're happy," I heard him say from the living room.
"Did he say anythin'?" Soda asked. He was no longer yelling at Darry. I wondered when he stopped.
"Nothin' important, no," Steve said and I heard a chorus of sighs. "Not like he'd talk ta me, a course. He was cryin'."
I wished he didn't tell them that. I wished he didn't notice that detail. He should have looked at my nose and nothing else. I wasn't mad at him, of course. I couldn't feel anger for anything. I felt sadness, sure, but I was far from angry. I deserved what I got and that's all there was to it. I rolled back onto my stomach and pulled my blanket over my head. I blinked the tears away, refusing to cry any longer. I didn't have it bad. I got hit twice. Johnny didn't make it through the day without a hit unless he just didn't go home.
It was only about a minute before the next person came into my room. Instead of sitting down next to me like Steve had, they had crawled under the covers with me. Of course it had to be Sodapop. Nobody else would even consider getting that close to me whether we were laying down or standing up. I was a disgrace. Sodapop didn't seem to think so. If he did, he did a great job of hiding it. I allowed him to wrap his arms around me and pull me close. "Hey, kiddo," he breathed out, rubbing the back of my head. "Ya alright?"
"'m fine," I said, closing my eyes. I didn't want him there. I didn't want to feel him near me. If I got any comfort, I knew I'd break down and cry again. I had no right to feel sorry for myself.
"What Darry did was real wrong," he said, reaching for my hand. I allowed him to hold it and intertwine our fingers. Sometimes Sodapop would treat me as if I was a little kid instead of fourteen. I didn't always mind it. If nobody was around, it was okay. I actually liked it. I was the baby of the family and a momma's boy. When mom was alive, she was always hugging me and holding me. I never cared, either. I'd let her whenever any of the gang was over. I would have let her in front of anybody else, too, but I was never around anybody else. It was right to have my mom hugging and holding me. Sodapop loved it, too, but he wouldn't do it unless we were alone, or if Steve was the only one around. Darry was more like our dad instead of our mom, but even at his age he'd let mom coddle over him.
"It's okay, Soda," I whispered.
"No, it isn't. He has no right hittin' ya like that. The first time was an accident. Wrong, but different. It was just once. This...this, well...he was real wrong. He shouldn't have hit ya, 'specially that hard. He broke your nose," he said. I heard the tears in his voice. I rolled over so I was facing him. I hated when Sodapop was upset. He was happy-go-lucky all the time. He was always smiling. He had the type of smile that could make anybody else smile with him. I hated when he cried.
"Why ya cryin', Sodapop?" I asked, allowing myself to get comfortable in his arms.
"I hate seein' the both of ya fight all the time. I hate that he hit ya, an' I hate that there ain't nothin' I could do 'bout it," he said, swallowing hard after. "I can't fight 'im 'cause he's our brother, an' I know he won't fight back. I can't report 'im cause then I lose ya in the process. I can't take ya away, an' I can't make myself even want to leave."
"I don't wanna leave. I love it here. I just made a mistake. I shouldn't make Darry worry like that. You don't gotta worry 'bout doin' anythin'. You don't havta. I'll just be on time next time an' keep my grades up and we'll be alright," I said. Even I could tell how pathetic and hurt I sounded. I hated it. I was disgusted with myself. I should have had a better control on my emotions.
"You listen to me, ya hear? You're soundin' like Johnny. I ain't sayin' ya shouldn't still love Darry, but you have every right ta blame 'im an' be mad at 'im for hittin' ya. It wasn't your fault. There's never a good reason to hit ya," he said, pushing my hair out of my face. I had started crying again. "There's a reason mom and dad never hit us. Darry has no reason to go against mom an' dad an' start hittin' ya. They never hit any of us, and me an' Darry have done worse things than practice a little longer than scheduled an' come home an hour late. Darry was wrong for hittin' ya, kiddo. Don't blame yourself."
"He was just worried. I understand."
"I understand, too, but that don't mean ya havta agree with it," he said. I started sobbing now. He pulled me closer to him and allowed me to cry into his chest. The whole time, he was holding me close and rubbing my back. "Darry loves ya. We both love ya. Darry was worried an' let 'imself get angry instead of relieved. He was wrong for hittin' ya. I know you understand how that worked out. I do, too. But that don't mean it was your fault. It was Darry's. You can forgive 'im if ya want or stay mad at 'im if ya want, but you don't go an' start blamin' yaself. Whether you forgive 'im or not, it's gonna remain 'is fault."
"Sorry, Soda," I cried, shaking my head. I knew it was my fault. Sodapop was wrong for once. I was the only one to blame.
"No, baby, don't apologize," Soda said in a soothing voice. "Can I sleep in 'ere with you tonight?"
"Please?" I found myself saying. I had meant to say no but I spoke before I thought about it. I really did want Soda to sleep with me, but I didn't want to burden anybody.
"Let's go eat dinner first, 'kay? Then ya need a shower, an' then we'll sleep, 'kay? I could tell you're exhausted."
He was right. I was dead tired from all the running at track and the emotional turmoil at home. I probably would've fallen asleep if Sodapop hadn't come in there. "I ain't too hungry. Can I skip dinner?"
"Sure, honey, but only for tonight, 'kay? Only cause I know it's been a long day," he said. I agreed. I would probably be hungry the next day for dinner. I just wasn't then. I had too much on my mind and my face was starting to hurt. He let me slide out of bed and, after grabbing some clothes, I went straight into the bathroom so I could take a quick shower.
After my shower, I went to my room and expected to see Sodapop, but instead I saw Darry. "Hey," I said, seeing him sitting on my bed. He looked up at me with hopeful and sorry eyes. He was probably hoping I could forgive him. I guess he didn't realize that he shouldn't have been sorry. He had nothing to be sorry for.
"I am so, so, so sorry, Lil Colt," he said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I didn't mean ta. Golly, look at your face. I really did a number on ya, huh?"
"It looks nasty but it don't hurt much," I said, lying. It felt worse than it looked, and it looked pretty horrid. "Just a small throb."
He patted the spot next to him on the bed, so I went over and sat there. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I unintentionally stiffened. I didn't realize I did until I felt him stiffen, too, and more tears appeared in his eyes quicker this time. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have hit ya."
"I should've been on time," I reminded him softly, though I doubted he needed a reminder. "Don't be yourself up o'er this, Dare."
"Please don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault, Colt," he said, rubbing my back gently. "I was wrong for hittin' ya. I didn't mean ta. I just hate gettin' so worked up cause I think somethin' bad happened to ya. When ya came 'ome an' said that you just forgot to call an' say that you were stayin' at practice a little longer, I got mad cause I spent all that time worryin'. I love ya so much, Pone. It was an accident."
"Dare," I said quietly, "I get it. I understand. I don't blame ya, an' I know ya love me. I love ya, too. I'll be on time next time, 'kay? Right now I just really wanta get some sleep. I'm real tired."
He hesitated, but then he kissed the top of my head. "Alright. G'night, Pony."
"Night, Superman," I whispered. He nodded and left the room. He was still crying. I wished he wasn't. He was the strong one in the family. The strong one and the happy one should never cry. They should continue to be strong and happy. I made them cry, and that made me want to cry more. It wasn't surprising for me to cry. I was the weak baby of the family. Of the gang, actually. I was pathetic.
"I hope you're happy," I heard Soda snap a minute later. I knew he was talking to Darry.
"I'll go talk to the kid," Two-Bit said. I forgot he was even there. Golly, he was quiet. Two-Bit is never quiet. Steve is never nice. My brothers never cry. I ruined everything for everybody. I didn't dare let myself cry again, though. I wasn't going to let another person see me cry. I had no reason to cry. Greasers don't cry over any type of pain, emotional or physical. There was no knock on my door. Two-Bit just came right in. He leaned against the doorway for a moment before coming over and sitting next to me. "Looks like your face got an improvement."
I knew he was trying to cheer me up by making one of his stupid jokes. It would have worked if he was happy. When Two-Bit was happy, you could hear it in his voice. His voice sounded careful. I hated whenever any of them got that way around me. They were careful with me after the accident. They never spoke too loudly or made any sudden movements when I was around. Two-Bit would joke for the normality of it, but even I could tell he only wanted it to feel normal. Steve wouldn't pick on me, and when he did talk to me it was like he was struggling to keep his voice steady. They treated me as if I was made of glass, and any sudden movement or noise would shatter me.
"Listen, kid," he began, swallowing hard when he noticed I had nothing to say, "things'll be better in a few days. Don't sit there lookin' like you're waitin' for somethin' to come an' kill ya, ya hear? Be mad at Darry, don't blame yourself."
"Two-Bit," I whispered, "you guys are the ones who are mad at Darry. I don't have to add to that. You're angry enough for me, an' Johnny and Dallas if they were here."
"So? You have the right to be angry."
"I don't blame Darry. Even if it wasn't my fault, I still wouldn't blame 'im," I said. He opened his mouth to talk but I cut him off. "No, I won't blame him. I can't. I know he ain't s'possed ta hit me, but I shouldn't have given 'im reason to. I'm sure mom and dad would understand like I do. I'm upset that he hit me, but I ain't angry with 'im, an' I'm not gonna be. It's up ta me if I wanna be mad at 'im just like it's up ta y'all to be mad at 'im."
"You don't need to be mad at 'im, but you need to stop blamin' yourself," Two-Bit said, putting his hand on my back.
I shook my head and gave him the best smile that I could. "You guys can let this go, ya know. You don't have to talk to me. I'm okay. I just want to get some sleep."
He sighed heavily and stood up. "Alright, kid. I'll see ya tomorrow, 'kay? I'll let ya know in the mornin' what you can say to the teachers at school 'bout your face."
"Thanks, Two," I whispered. He nodded and left. Once he was gone, I slid under the covers and into bed. I noticed that somebody had changed the sheets and pillowcases. I got blood on them. I didn't mean to. My nose was just bleeding heavily. I'd have to apologize to Darry in the morning for the stained sheets.
Sodapop joined me in bed a few minutes later. He wrapped his arm around me the same way he always had. It was familiar and it comforted me a lot. I snuggled closer to his side and sighed deeply in content. I missed sleeping with my big brother. "You're so tense, Pone," he said quietly, running his fingers up and down my arm. "Want a backrub?"
I didn't realize how badly I wanted one until Sodapop offered. "Yes, please."
"On your stomach, kiddo," he commanded gentle, and I complied. He straddled my lower back and began applying pressure to my back. "What're ya thinkin' 'bout, Pone?"
"Nothin'."
"Why do ya think this is your fault?" he questioned.
I sighed. "Darry always tells me ta use my head cause I never do. It gets me in trouble all the time. It was bound ta happen sooner or later. I'm sorry me an' Darry started fightin' again. I know we agreed not to. We still don't fight as much as we used to." I was scared Soda would eventually run out again like he did that one night.
"Kiddo, I ain't mad at ya both for fightin'. I didn't expect it to stop altogether. Ya do use your head. Darry shouldn't bring ya down all the time like he does. I try to talk to 'im, but he never listens," he said and pressed harder into my back making me groan. It felt really good, and it was making me fall asleep quicker. "Darry got into more trouble than you do at your age. I did, too. 'member the stuff we used to cover up for Darry? He's sneak out an' drink an' get in fights an' all that stuff. We'd cover for 'im. You don't do none of that."
"I don't try to break the rules...honest, Soda."
"I know, Pone. You're a good kid," Soda said with a small sigh. "But that's the thing. You're a kid. You're small for your age as it is, an' you're the youngest up at the school. You're an easy target for people. That's what we all worry 'bout. Socs pick on ya a lot cause you're so small. I know it happens. Steve an' Two-Bit let us know. Just cause we don't say nothin' don't mean we haven't heard 'bout it. We know how ya don't really talk to many people outside our gang. Ya don't have any other friends. Do ya realize how sad that is? What fourteen year old boy don't got friends."
"Me," I answered quietly, even though I knew he wasn't really asking a question. "I don't get along well with people, Sodapop. You know that."
"I do, Pone, and I hate it. Not only is that sad, but it's dangerous here. The more you're alone, the more likely it is you'll be jumped again. That's what Darry is worried 'bout. He's worried you'll be jumped an' get real hurt," he said, moving his hands up to rub my shoulders. "Golly, kid, your life is just really sad, huh?"
"It's okay," I mumbled, my face in the pillow. "I don't mind it. Aside from losin' mom, dad, Johnny, an' Dally, I have an okay life just like the rest of ya."
"I see the way you act, Pone. I know you're real sad," he said, his hands drifting off slightly. "I bet all of this ain't helpin' ya much."
"It only makes me want to do better," I said. I wanted to do better so Darry wouldn't have to stress so much over me anymore. He did enough of that. "I'll try harder, Soda, I promise."
"Kiddo-"
"No, it's okay. Darry got a lot on his plate. He's twenty-one and raisin' two boys. That's a lot of stress for anyone. I'll try to make it better," I muttered. "Can we sleep now? I don't wanna talk no more."
He sighed again and flopped down beside me. "Okay, kiddo. G'night."
"Night, Soda."
I couldn't have been asleep very long before I woke up screaming. There was a pair of arms wrapped around my upper body. I tried to shake them off, fighting to get away. "Shh, shh, honey," the person whispered, tightening their grip on me. It was Sodapop. I recognized the voice immediately. I should've recognized the arms. "I got ya, baby, I got ya."
"Sorry, Soda," I said, a whimper caught in my throat. I opened up my eyes and saw both Sodapop and Darry. I unconsciously moved away from Darry. I didn't realize I did until it was too late. "Sorry to wake ya both up. I didn't mean to."
"Hush, Pone, we know," Soda said, running his fingers through my hair. "Do you 'member this one?"
I had remembered a few of my nightmares since the accident. They had to do with the fire and watching my friends die and stuff like that. It wasn't rare for me to remember them, but I certainly didn't remember every nightmare. "No, I don't," I said truthfully. "Sorry."
"Quit apologizin', ya hear?" Darry said. I nodded and looked down, wanting to just listen to what he had to say. I didn't want to keep going against him. "Pone, please stop it."
I started crying. I didn't know what he wanted me to stop. I was just so confused and my emotions were going haywire. "What did I do?" I sobbed, pulling away from Sodapop. I curled myself up in a ball and hid my face in my knees as I cried. I didn't mean to start crying like that.
"Dammit, Pone," Darry said and I felt his hands on my arm. I let out a loud sob by accident. "You didn't do anythin', ya hear? You haven't done a single thing wrong. You stayed a little later at practice. That's it. I shouldn't have reacted like I did, an' I really shouldn't have hit ya. Gosh, Pony, it was my fault. It wasn't yours. Stop actin' like you're scared of me." He let out a sob, too. I hadn't realized before that he was crying. "I didn't mean to hurt ya. Don't be scared of me. Don't keep apologizin'. You have nothin' to be sorry for."
"It isn't just yesterday," I whimpered. "I don't mean to cause you so much stress. I really don't. I promise I don't. I try so hard, Dare, I do. I hate disappointin' ya. I don't mean to be a disappointment. I don't mean to be a burden. I don't mean to be a disgrace. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I didn't realize until then how fast my breathing had become and how loud my heartbeat was.
"Shh, baby, just breathe," Sodapop soothed, replacing his arms around me. I let him. "Deep breaths. Just calm down, Pone. I got ya. Slow, deep breaths." I tried to do what he was saying but it was so hard. I let out another loud sob and pushed myself closer to Soda. "Breathe with me, baby, 'kay? Take deep breaths. C'mon, kiddo."
After what felt like forever, I was breathing along with Sodapop. The pressure in my chest went away and I was left feeling exhausted. "Sorry," I mumbled, trying to stay awake.
"Don't apologize, baby. You just got yourself worked up," Soda soothed. I think he blamed Darry for my panic attack, too. He blamed Darry for a lot that night.
"Pone," Darry whispered, grabbing my hand. I allowed him to hold it but I didn't hold back. I was too tired, too. I hoped he didn't take it personally. I could barely keep my eyes open. "You don't disappoint me. You ain't a burden or a disgrace or a disappointment or none of that, 'kay? You're Ponyboy, and you're just a kid. Kids make mistakes. Smart kids like you bring home a bad grade sometimes. Kids come home late. Kids forget things. Kids don't always think things through. You're just a kid, Pone. Nobody expects you to be perfect, and I don't mean to act like I do. Compared to me an' Soda, you really are a perfect kid."
"I'm not," I whispered.
"Nobody is, but you're as close as anyone can get," Darry said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "An' ya wanna know somethin'? Adults make mistakes, too."
He didn't have to say exactly what he meant for me to understand it. He was telling me he made a mistake. I was starting to get it. Darry messed up because I messed up, but he was also saying that I didn't really mess up. I was just being a kid, I guess, from how he was describing it. I gave his hand a small squeeze but released my grip on it after a moment. I was still dead tired. "I forgive ya, Dare, an' I hope ya forgive me, too," I breathed out. I said so much in that tiny sentence. I told him that I realized I wasn't the only one to blame. I made a mistake, and I was sorry for it. But Darry also made a mistake that he was sorry for and I forgave him.
He kissed my hand gently. "Thank you, Lil Colt."
"Stay in 'ere with us, Dare," Sodapop whispered, laying me down gently in the bed. Behind my closed eyelids, I saw the light turn off. Then Darry was laying in bed with me and Sodapop. I was in the middle of them. I snuggled up against the both of them and sighed deepily. I barely whispered a goodnight before I fell asleep.
Sure, it was my fault. I made a mistake. But that didn't mean I was the only one to blame. And that didn't mean it was impossible to fix. We'd get through it together, just like we got through everything else. We were brothers. What siblings don't fight?