Authors Note... All rights to anything The Outsiders related belong to SE Hinton. Sorry I forgot that before.

A Shot For Vengeance

Chapter 2

Messages In A Bottle

XXX

Robert Sheldon stood in silence over his son's grave, the bouquet of red and yellow chrysanthemums laying sadly out of place in the basket on the ground. His boy was nearly eighteen years old, or would have been if he had lived another few weeks. The senselessness of it ate at him, all he had done was go to the movies with his girlfriend and some of their school chums that night, why was he here now? Dead, from a stabbing? From some punk kid younger and smaller than he was no less? He took a swig from his whiskey flask and thought about it more.

So Bobby drank some that night. It was the weekend, big deal! Sure, he wasn't old enough to be legally drinking alcohol, but hell, what kid wasn't? He was teaching his son to be a man, and real men have to hold their liquor. He did, his son would have to learn, too. He remembered the court case, sitting there in silence as Bobby's friends all turned on his son and said that Cade kid was only defending his friend that Bobby helped hold under in the fountain. So what? That kid probably deserved it, Bobby wouldn't waste his time on something trivial. And he was sure Bobby would have let him up before anything happened anyway.

He had another swig from the flask and pondered that thought some more. Stupid kids from the East side of town, where poverty and crime ran rampant. It was always in the news about some gas station being robbed or some hoodlum getting in trouble over there. When those East Side juvenile delinquents were bored beating each other up, they had to cause trouble for good decent people like him and his family on the West side. Anger boiled up in him. Those kids all had it coming, but it was his boy who lay here in the ground. That Cade kid at least got it in the end. That other kid would get it too. If society wouldn't take care of it, he would. He owed his boy that much. He drained his flask of the last of the whiskey.

"Robert, please can we go home?" his wife called. She didn't like to be here, knowing her only baby lay cold and dead just under the surface of the ground. Bobby may have been seventeen, but to her, he would always be her sweet baby. It really didn't help that Robert had been drinking more than usual, ever since the trial that acquitted that other boy with the funny name. Bobby had already been gone from them for five long months, but Robert kept pulling her back to that day, reopening the pain Bobby's loss brought her.

"Woman, I'll leave here when I'm damn good and ready. Sit your ass back in the car and shut up."

It was the booze talking. She stepped closer and tried to take his arm.

"Robert, honey, I'm cold. Can't we..."

She never got to finish her plea. Robert Sheldon reared back and hit her across the face, smashing her onto the ground over their son's grave. From where she lay on the ground, she turned to look up at her husband, who stumbled over and picked up his flask, which had fallen from his hand when he hit her.

"Now you made me go and spill my whiskey. Well, get up, you wanted out of here so bad. Lets go." He stumbled between the headstones as he headed back to the car. She shakily picked herself up and brushed away the dirt, righting the mums again as they had fallen over when she fell on them. It wasn't the first time he had hit her. It probably wouldn't be the last. There were many secrets in many families.

She had hoped Bobby never knew how bad his daddy was when alcohol was in his system. Sitting in the court room that day, she knew the alcohol in Bobby's system was to blame for what he did to that boy that night. Alcohol was a mean devil to anyone under its influence. As she obediently made her way back to the car where Robert was waiting for her, she also knew Robert wasn't over it. This agony just wouldn't end. Her son was dead, that Cade boy was dead. Now Robert seemed like he wanted revenge from that other kid, the one with the odd name... Ponyboy. He was the one Bobby and the others held under in the fountain, yet Robert blamed him for Bobby's death.

She blamed herself for not being a better mother and wife. Maybe if she had done more, none of this wouldn't have happened. She eased herself into the car, sitting silently in the back passenger seat as he put it in gear and headed home. Her thoughts settled back to numbness.

His thoughts were on how to exact revenge.

XXX

"Well, you managed to get your grades back up. Good job, Pony." His report card lay in my hands, mostly "A's" with two "B's". I couldn't complain. He worked his rump off to bring those grades up to where they were. He was just about back to his old self now, the sadness of missing Johnny and Dal still there, but he was moving on. He smiled, ate and roughhoused with us as much as he used to. He was back in training for track, working harder at it now that the holidays were over. I quietly noticed he hadn't smoked in over two weeks, and I wondered if the rest of the guys had picked up on what was absent from the waistband of his jeans too.

Getting over his nicotine addiction was hard to watch, especially since he was obviously trying to hide it from me. Therefore, I couldn't say a word about it. His hands shook and he was always moving, unable to sit still. I even heard him tossing his cookies behind the bushes the other night while I was doing the dishes, he didn't know the window was open and I heard what was going on. As hard as it was for him to get over this, it was equally hard for me to sit back and watch in silence. He seemed determined to beat this, and I secretly applauded his effort. I just hoped when track season ended, he didn't go back to smoking.

"Thanks, Darry." He beamed at me, proud of himself for his good grades. I signed the report card and he shoved it back in his backpack so he wouldn't forget it for Monday. "Can I go to the movies? They're playing an Elvis flick down at the cinema."

"Get all your homework done?"

I noticed his roll of the eyes. "Yeah, it's all done. It's Friday, Darry... can I go?"

"Sure. I'll give you a ride. Lemme get my wallet." He grinned and headed for the door. What the heck - he's earned a movie, and with him out of the house, I had a few hours of peace and quiet. Soda was still working the evening shifts for a few more days. It paid more than the morning shift, and with Pony's hospital bills still coming in, we needed everything we could get.

"Here," I handed him a dollar as he hopped out in front of the theater. "Get some popcorn and a drink. I want my change back later. Don't think I won't ask for it, either!" I reached over and ruffled his hair - now that it was all his real color again, he finally looked like his old self. He had gone to the barber shop last week and had the last of that blond mess cut off his head. It was really short now, almost – dare I say it, a respectable length. I was sure he would let it grow longer again, but it would never be the same. He swatted my hand, and headed to the ticket window. I watched him go in, then headed back to the house.

XXX

I settled in my seat, drink in the cup holder, popcorn in my hand and a candy bar in my lap. I was all set. The lights went down and the picture started. It was a good movie... Elvis, some swinging songs, a cute girl and a tuff car. Before long, I was totally absorbed in the movie and forgot everything around me. Almost two hours later, the lights came back up and it was time to head home. I shoved the last of the popcorn kernels in the trash and slurped down the rest of my drink. Heading back outside, I looked around getting my bearings as my eyes adjusted to the sunshine.

I headed to the pay phone on the corner and called the house, hoping someone would give me ride home. It rang eight times before I gave up and put the receiver back down. Wonder where Darry is? I thought. I dialed Two-Bit's place and his sis picked it up on the second ring.

"Hey, is Two-Bit there?"

"Naw. He's out with his girl. Whacha want?"

"Never mind. Bye."

"Wait! Ponyb." I heard her call back at me as I hung up. Two-Bit had teased me that his kid sister liked me, but I wanted nothing to do with her. She's younger than me, and likes to talk. Not my style, and the whole gang knew it. Thankfully, she didn't come around our house. I'd hate to tell her in a very blunt way to leave me alone, considering she is Two-Bit's sis and all, but I would if she kept pestering me.

Finally, I took a deep breath and called Steve. I knew he was off from the DX tonight. He and I were getting along better, but I wasn't necessarily his 'Curtis of choice' to hang around with. It rang a few times and finally a voice on the other end picked up.

"Yeah? Randle house."

I groaned inside. By the sound of his voice, I knew it was his dad. This was not going to go over well.

"Mr. Randle, it's Ponyboy Curtis. Is Steve there by chance, sir?"

"No, he ain't here. I ain't his messenger, either. He practically lives at your house, when you see him, then you can tell him what you got to say." Click.

Well, that went better than I thought it would. I hung up the receiver and sighed. Looks like I was hoofing it. Not the first time, but I wasn't feeling too hot about it, either. Still, it was the only thing left to do, so I headed across the street and started my way home.

Once I crossed the back of the shopping center and headed down the tracks, I had that eerie feeling I was being watched. Right away, my heart started thumping in slow throbs in my chest, and I could feel the hairs stand up on my neck. I looked around, but saw no one. Just cars of various makes and models passing by overhead. Nothing unusual. Still, that feeling wouldn't go away. Fingering my back pocket, I realized I left my blade at home. There was an old beer bottle laying nearby and I picked it up, draining the stagnant liquid from it on the ground as I walked along.

It seemed even the birds stopped chirping, everything was so quiet. My feet crunched the gravel as I sped up my pace, finally making it back to my neighborhood. Sweat was absorbing in the waistband of my jeans as I left the tracks and crossed back onto the streets a few blocks from my house. I kept looking around, but even though I saw no one, I could swear someone was following me. Creepy. And it wasn't just the nicotine withdrawal's I was finally getting over, either. I was looking behind me again while walking around the last corner to my house, when I ran smack into someone I didn't see coming my way.

"Gosh, mister, I'm sorry!" I apologized before realizing who it was.

"Damn, Ponyboy, why doncha look where the hell you're going? And don't be calling me 'mister', either. What's up with the beer bottle, kid?"

I looked at Steve and then back behind me, scanning the streets again. I knew someone had been there, but they were gone now. "Oh hey, Steve. Sorry bout that." I tossed the bottle in the brush on the corner, not aware how tight I had been holding it until I let it go. "Hey, did you see anyone there?"

He looked up in the direction I came from, but like me, he saw nothing. He shook his head. "Kid, you better get home. Darry's been waiting on you. Have you been drinking?" He looked at the bottle I tossed aside then back at me, standing closer - I assumed to try to smell alcohol on my breath.

"No, I ain't been drinking. Not unless you count Pepsi at the movies, 'drinking'. Watch out, I gotta get home and take a leak. I drank a super large over three hours ago, and my kidneys are practically swimming!"

He followed me into the house, where fish and coleslaw lay wrapped in foil on plates on the table.

"Ponyboy, where have you been? Don't tell me you walked home from the movies? Didn't I tell you something once upon a time about calling someone?"

He didn't even give me a chance to pee in peace, following me in to read me the riot act as I drained my bladder. When he stopped for air, I gave him my version.

"I DID call. No one answered here. I then called Two-Bit and got his hormonally challenged sister on the phone. She said he wasn't home either. Then I gave Steve there a try," I jutted my chin at Steve who was plopped down in the sofa able to hear and unfortunately see everything going on. Privacy didn't exist in the Curtis house, that was long ago established. A house full of boys rarely held private corners. "But his dad cheerfully said I could give him my message when I saw him again, right before hanging up on me. Out of options, I walked home." Finished with both my speech and my bladder, I zipped both my lip and my pants. Washing my hands, I glanced at Darry, who obviously looked like he was out of things to say.

"Next time, try the house again. Anyone bother you?"

I debated telling him about feeling like I had been followed, but I shook it off. I had no proof, hadn't seen anyone anyway, and it was probably my imagination acting up in the first place. "No. It was fine."

Steve glanced at me, giving me a look but said nothing. I still hadn't explained the bottle, and he seemed to have forgotten it.

"Well, this has been entertaining, but I got to go. Say hey to Soda for me when he gets in, will ya?"

"Yeah, sure thing Steve. Thanks for going out for me."

"No sweat, Darry. Later, kid!"

"Bye Steve." I headed into the kitchen to get a plate, and Darry followed me in.

"No one bothered you? You're sure?"

I was beginning to wonder if he knew something I didn't, but shook it off. "No one bothered me. I told you that already. Why?"

He hesitated, not giving up whatever he knew. I grabbed a glass and made a drink, then sat down to eat. He watched me, then sat down too.

"Something going on I need to know about?" I asked, not liking this silence.

It persisted a hair longer, then he shook his head. "No, nothing. I just don't want you walking alone around town if you can help it. Got me?"

He was hiding something behind those eyes of his. Experience has taught me that the more I bug him about stuff, the less likely I will get anything from him. Soda was the one who could get anything from him. When he came home, I would get to the bottom of this.

"Okay. You know, if you got me a dog, you wouldn't have to worry so much."

"The only dog you can get is one that doesn't eat, will never need a vet, won't shed or ever make a mess in the house." He got up and headed back to his room. I knew I wasn't gonna get a dog, but it was fun to pester him about it.

XXX

I had oil all over my clothes. I knew these pants were ruined, and Darry was getting nuttier about having to replace my clothes now that Pony was also needing new clothes too. He had hit a growth spurt, and my old jeans weren't fitting him right anymore. He was gonna be as tall as me, if not taller in a few years.

I stumbled on the porch, blind as a bat thanks to our front light bulb being burned out. There was no moon out either, and it was so dark, you couldn't even see your hand in front of you. "What the..." I stumbled over something left right in the middle of the porch, right in front of the door. I caught myself before I fell, and reached down for whatever it was. A bottle. Two-Bit! I went inside, carrying it with me and sat it on the table.

"Hey, I'm home!"

Darry stuck his head out of his room. "Hey Soda, how was work?"

"Same as usual. Where's Two-Bit?"

"Dunno. Haven't seen him all day. Why?" Darry stood against his open door way, looking at me down the hall. Pony came out of our room, holding yet another one of his novels in his hand.

"Moron left this on the porch. I nearly escaped having my head go through the window tripping over it." I pointed at the bottle, then went to wash my hands. I noticed Pony staring at the bottle, looking a bit pale.

"You say that was on the porch?" he asked.

"Yup." I had my hands thick in soap scrubbing the grease off me.

Pony went to the table, muttering in a low tone. "He's got one sick sense of humor."

I curiously watched him, and Darry came out too. I wanted to see what the hullabaloo was about... it was just an old beer bottle, a really old beer bottle. Two-Bit must have forgotten it. Pony was staring at it, a mix of dread and anger on his face. Darry noticed the paper wrapped up in it like a scroll and shook it out. Opening it up, in red letters, were a few words.

"This won't save you later."

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose