Reviews:
Iconic Star Child - glad you think so! the murder of this child is going to be the main focus of this story (aside from Soda and Cherry's relationship)
Amanda - you're welcome! :D
Guest 1 - thanks! Sorry that I kept you waiting for so long
Guest 2 - good, good! I'm happy that I was able to spark your interest
DarlingPhantom730 - aw, thank you!
AN - I'm so sorry to have made you all wait so long for an update! Please enjoy this chapter, give it a review, and I'll try to be better with my writing schedule. Thanks for reading!
Soda came back to a house buzzing with activity. Despite the hour of night, his brothers were still awake. He knew he was in huge trouble, even before he stepped into the living room. The instant he was inside, Pony hugged him tightly, mumbling something about how worried everyone had been. Soda opened his mouth to apologize, but the words died on his lips when he saw Darry.
He stood by the kitchen table, arms folded sternly over his chest. It was a scowl on his face at first and Soda couldn't keep himself from cringing. But then the anger morphed into relief. Soda still didn't relax, though. His older brother was infamously difficult to read. No one could ever accurately predict how he was feeling or what he was going to do next.
In this instance, he decided to follow the peaceful trail. Sure, he was angry, but he apparently wanted to talk things out. Soda heaved a sigh of relief, grateful for the chance to explain his actions. But Darry beat him to the first words.
"What happened to your hands?" he asked.
Pony pulled back from the hug and grabbed one of Soda's wrists. For a moment, no one spoke as the youngest Curtis examined the scraped up flesh on his brother's palm. The tension seemed to increase - at least, that was how Soda perceived it - so he yanked his wrist out of Pony's grasp in a feeble attempt to end the worrying.
"I'm fine, Dare," he said, giving both of his brothers an apologetic smile. "I just tripped on the sidewalk and landed on my hands. But can we talk about this some more tomorrow? I'm real tired..."
"Yeah, okay." Even though he agreed, Darry went back to frowning. "Well, good night then... You too, Pony. And no readin' this time, ya hear?"
His youngest brother nodded and trotted off to bed. Leaving Soda alone with him. Unconsciously, he strode into the living room, placed his hand on the middle child's shoulder. He looked the teen up and down a couple times, eyes scrutinizing every detail. Every bit of the young man, just to know he really was alright. Finally, he stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest again.
"Sure you're okay, Sodapop?" he said, letting his concerned gaze hover over his brother's noticeably paler face. "Ya look like you've seen a ghost."
Not exactly... Soda thought. "I just need some sleep." He flashed one of his winning smiles, hoping the expression would reassure Darry. Whether it worked or not...well he didn't stick around to find out. He just marched himself off to bed, but couldn't sleep.
xxxxxx
The next morning, Soda discovered that he'd actually managed to fall asleep. He felt groggy and poorly rested, like he'd tossed and turned all night. If that was the case, it was a wonder that Pony had slept so well. But his little brother truly did appear undisturbed. Gently, he ran his fingers through the boy's hair then slipped off of the mattress.
He wished he could've just stayed under the blankets with Pony forever. It was an impossible dream, though, cause he knew he needed to tell Darry about what had happened and then there was his shift at the DX to take care of and not to mention he'd promised Steve that they would hang out later. Too busy today. Maybe tomorrow...
Sluggishly, he made his way into the kitchen. Darry was already waiting for him at the table, the morning paper laid out in front of him. He looked up at Soda and frowned.
"A boy died last night," he said, gesturing to the picture on the front page. "Cops found him shot in the street."
Soda swallowed hard. "That's a shame..."
His older brother nodded slowly, thoughtfully. The pair sat in silence for a while, feeling as though they were strangers rather than relatives. Soda tried to eat some cereal, but he had to give up after a few bites. Nausea pooled in his stomach and the last thing he needed was to vomit before work.
Finally, Darry spoke up, his voice sounding strained. "Last night was about Sandy, wasn't it?" He waited for a response, though knew that there wouldn't be one. So he continued. "I told ya to keep your head on your shoulders. Dammit Soda! You'll get yourself killed if ya keep wanderin' around without thinkin' 'bout your surroundings."
Just the word 'killed' made Soda's stomach turn. It brought back the images of the night before, the ones he'd tried to forget. A little boy and an oozing bullet hole in his forehead. He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.
"I-I have to get ready for work," he stuttered as he bolted into the bathroom.
The moment the door closed behind him, he fell to his knees. He crawled over to the toilet, opened the lid, then crouched there. The crying came first. He tried to hold it back, but the more he resisted, the more nauseous and out of breath he felt. His lungs seized up, wrenching his stomach, twisting it until the contents of it had nowhere else to go. And he puked. He hugged the sides of the toilet with his shaking arms, vomiting up everything that hadn't already been digested.
He slumped forward, cried harder, choked on the ragged breaths that rose from his burning throat. Even as he tried to calm down, he knew it was too late. Darry's footsteps drew close to the bathroom door. The urgent knocking came moments before he was ready to answer, but he forced himself to reply when he heard his older brother's worried voice.
"Soda? I'm comin' in, okay?"
"N-no... it's fine... I'm...I'm all good..." The response was too feeble to help his cause. If anything, it made Darry more concerned.
The door opened slowly, its hinges creaking as if it was in pain. Soda would've chuckled at that if he wasn't feeling so miserable. A slab of wood experiencing an injury. Ha. He almost wished he could switch places with the thing. Anything was better than being sick like this...
Darry stepped into the small room, gaze quickly taking stock of the situation. With a bit of a sigh, he reached over his younger brother's body and flushed the toilet. His hand gently stroked the boy's sweat-slicked locks then he moved to grab a towel. He wet the rough fabric with cool water from the sink, returned to Soda's side.
"Hey, buddy, ya coulda said you weren't feelin' good," Darry mumbled, kneeling next to his sick brother. He wiped Soda's face with the towel, cleaning up any traces of vomit from his chin. "I'll call the DX, tell 'em you can't go in. So don't you worry 'bout that."
"But... Okay..."
"You just take it easy," he continued as he finished cleaning. He took hold of Soda's arm, pulled him to his feet, and guided him back to the room he shared with Pony. "Lay down. Do ya need anythin'? I could run out for some medicine before I gotta go to work."
Soda curled up on the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "No, don't bother. I'll be alright soon. I hope..."
His older brother frowned - an expression he made far too often these days. He wanted to hit himself for making everybody worry, for being a burden. Darry had enough to deal with already. The last thing the poor guy needed was a sick kid to fuss over. So Soda told him to quit acting like a mama bear and assured him that everything would be okay.
Darry patted him on the head, muttered something that his exhausted mind couldn't comprehend, then left him alone. He heard the door close and fell asleep.
xxxxxx
The first thought that entered his mind was an annoyed one. Ponyboy, answer the frickin' door already, would ya? The knocking persisted and Soda's eyes snapped open, unable to ignore the sound any longer. He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
It took him much longer than usual to stumble over to the front door. He rested once in the hallway, leaning up on the wall until that faint feeling of vertigo passed. Finally, he reached the door, grabbed the knob, yanked it open. His breath caught when he saw the girl standing on the front step. Blondish red hair that he knew felt silky soft. Smiling pink lips that he would've kissed all day if she'd allowed it. Tender eyes that he had spent countless hours gazing into.
Sandy... God, it was really her. Except, it wasn't... The hair was too red, the eyes too green. And this girl's smile seemed all wrong, now that he really examined it. Her face more rounded rather than angular, too. It wasn't Sandy. His heart sank into his empty stomach as he came to that realization. He wondered if his fantasies would ever come true, if his only love would return to him one day.
"Hi, umm... I'm Cherry," the girl said, her hands clasped in front of her nervously. "Is Ponyboy home?"