Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.
II. I Don't Know
XxX
Ponyboy's up the next morning, making some sort of egg concoction that rivals Sodapop's cooking skills. I give it a glance and pour myself a cup of bitter coffee. I take a sip and watch him poke the eggs with a spatula, hoping he's not planning to mope around the house all summer.
"Still need a ride home from the library?"
He nods; his green eyes wide. The bruise surrounding the right is now a neat blue color. "Sure thing, Dar. Two-Bit'll give me a ride there." He holds the pan out to me. "Want some breakfast?"
"No thanks, I'm gonna be late." I check my watch, patting my pockets for my wallet. "Soda will eat some though." I eye the countertops, still searching.
"It's on the coffee table…" Pony mutters.
"What is?"
"Your wallet," he says, shuffling around the kitchen. He finds a plate and scrapes a measly portion of eggs onto it. He fixes it with a stare, stabbing the eggs with his fork.
"Go sit down and eat, Pony," I tell him, darting into the living room to grab my wallet. "You weren't raised in a barn."
He's still standing when I walk back to him, the eggs cold and untouched. I reach my hand out, moving his cheek to get a better glance at his eye. Pony jerks his chin out of my touch, pressing his tense body back against the counter.
I stare at my brother, already feeling myself bristle. I give him another quick look over to make sure he's okay, then I'm heading out the front door, telling him to put some ice on that eye and that I'll see him at six tonight.
XxX
I watch Darry leave and dump my eggs in the sink. Just two weeks ago everything had been a-okay. Now we can't even stand each other…
XxX
It's the first argument Darry and I have in a while, nearly a year. Since Windrixville we've been heaps better. Bickering slightly at times, yet never truly angry. He gets me, I know he really does. And I get him. But as I stare at the sight in front of me I know I've changed since I was 14.
The kitchen table's littered with brochures and pamphlets and all kinds of college paraphernalia. Only it's not mine. It's Darry's – for me. I see a majority of the brochures he's collected are colleges in Oklahoma, one's in Texas and one's in Kansas; border towns.
I stand high above them, mere paper on the kitchen table, and they still scare me for reasons known and unknown.
Lately, I've been dreaming about Johnny and Dal; what they did and didn't do. Talking to guys on the track team and watching Two-Bit finally graduate and I've come to realize I have no idea what I want to do with my life. And even though I'm almost, only 16, I realize as I stare at the brochures that college isn't top of my list.
"I requested some information."
Darry's voice scares me and I jump. "Glory Dar!" I exhale.
He looks sheepish. "Sorry, kiddo." He crosses his broad arms. "So what do you think?"
"Well, I think you really shouldn't go sneakin up on people like that. Fixin to give someone a heart attack."
Now Darry looks annoyed. "No. I mean about the colleges."
I shrug, wishing Soda would make an appearance. "It's okay, I guess. Can't really think about college right now."
"Why not?"
"It's just so far off, Dar. Ya know?"
"It's not that far, Ponyboy. It's the summer, you can do some research."
I raise an eyebrow. "Research, huh?"
"I'm just thinkin about your future."
"Yeah, my future."
"I know that." Darry squints at me and I wonder if he really does.
We leave it like that; for a week nothing more is spoken of college. A few nights later I catch Darry complaining to Sodapop about how ornery I'm getting and he blames puberty. "He's a teenager," Soda excuses. "He's gonna give you shit."
"How come he doesn't give you any?" Darry grumbles, causing me to wince.
XxX
"So the library, huh?" Two-Bit asks.
I nod and snap my seatbelt on.
"I know a few more interesting spots that'll keep your attention better than a book," Two-Bit suggests, putting his blinker on and veering hard to the left, cutting off an approaching Mustang. He checks his rearview mirror and chuckles at the sucker behind him.
I raise an eyebrow and pull out a pack of smokes. "I'm not interested in a disease, Two-Bit."
He chuckles. "I gotta stop teachin you my suave lines."
"Shoot, you ain't teachin me nothin."
"What you need kid, is a vacation."
"Hell, maybe I'll run away to Timbucktoo and make everyone happy."
Two-Bit really seems to be considering this when he finally says, "You know, Pone, I think it's about time you wiped the unending scowl off your face."
I can't help it; I scowl. "Easy for you to say. You didn't get the shit kicked out of you and then have Darry shove it back in your face."
"He was just mad—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know why he was mad. I heard it from Sodapop, I don't need to hear it from you too, so can it."
"Alright. I'll shut the hell up."
"That'll be a first."
XxX
I'm caught up in work, so caught up in my thoughts about Ponyboy that when my co-worker asks me to get a drink after my shift's over it sounds like a blessing in disguise. It's been a while since I've had a good stiff drink…
XxX
"Dar…" Ponyboy ventures the night after I complain to Soda about him. I'm reading the paper in my recliner, a beer on the end table next to me.
"What, Pony?"
It's a bad night for a conversation and I should have stopped him at that. Work's been hell and Soda's giving me grief about I don't know what. I hate to admit it, but it's one of those weeks when I think about the what-ifs.
And sometimes I hate myself for it.
"I've been thinkin about college…"
I set my paper down.
"…and maybe that I don'twanttogo." Suddenly, he's 14 again, earnest and scared.
"That's not an option, kiddo." I shake my paper open, thinking he's joking and I'm not in the mood. There's a long pause and then—
"Well, why the hell not?"
It's the voice that riles me – adult yet young. Confused yet experienced. I get it then that he really means what he just said. I make a note to ask Soda if Pony's said anything to him about this.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I sigh. Pony just stares, his shaggy brown hair in his face, scrawny body standing in front of me."You're young…you…just…" I trail off, searching for what to say.
"It's just an idea," he mutters. "I thought I'd tell you."
"You'll grow out of it."
His eyes narrow. "Yeah, because you know what I want."
Irritated, I sit up and snap, "Ponyboy, I don't have time for this right now. But listen – the next time you need my help, consider yourself on your own. How about that?"
Ponyboy blinks in surprise and then nods. "Whatever you say, Dar."
And I think that's that. I know he's hurt and the week before school gets out I keep meaning to apologize and really listen to him – even though I think he's still wrong.
But I don't.
XxX
Soda, Steve and Two-Bit are involved in a poker game when I get home from work. I sling my tool belt on the floor, ignoring the mess of shoes and jackets piled on the floor. I don't care for once, Social Services be damned.
I'm tired; I'm really tired and as I watch the guy's up their antes and bluff I'd give anything to be my real age for once. Then Soda glances up and asks, "Where's Pone?", and all of it comes crashing back down.
Shit.
"You forgot him?" Soda's frowning at me. "Dar?"
XxX
Pardon typos.
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