You'd think Elvis had just pulled up in front of our house from the way Two-Bit burst through the door. He let out a holler to wake the dead when he saw my hair.

"Man, Pony," he shook his head, "Didn't you get enough of those wild Indians last time?!"

Soda handed me the crutches before dashing into the house. He's had to pee for the last hour. Mr. Kardasian at the corner market won't let anyone use his bathroom after a greaser died in there last year.

Two-Bit's eyes narrowed as I came out from behind the door of the truck. "Darry, I thought you said he was ok!"

"He is ok," Darry replied flatly, grabbing my duffel.

Steve stood on the porch just watching us. He lifted his chin at me by way of greeting. "Bet you're glad to be home." Yep. He couldn't honestly say he was glad I was home, so instead he just stated the obvious. Must be a bummer having to share Soda with me again.

Tim sauntered out last, tucking a cigarette into his mouth. "Hey, kid. Had a little trouble at camp, huh?"

I nodded. "Little bit." A guy like Tim isn't interested in the details, only the end result. So seeing my wrapped knee and the scattered scrapes and bruises told him all he cared to know.

"Hey, Darry," Tim greeted, grabbing my duffel and Darry and Soda's bags so that Darry could get the sacks from the market.

"Everything been ok around here?" Darry asked.

Tim peered into the bags in Darry's arms. "Yep. Good thing you bought some necessities, though."

Darry nodded and smirked. "I figured."

Two-Bit hopped around behind me as I tried to navigate the porch steps with crutches. He got sick of waiting, though, and he grabbed me around the waist and hauled me up the four steps. "Mathews Express at yer service," he said.

I just shook my head at him and crutched my way into the house. Things were pretty much as I'd expected. Crumbs, bottles, and glasses littered the coffee table, with playing cards scattered amidst the debris. A variety show blared from the T.V. It was hotter in Tulsa than it had been in Raton City, and I felt moisture begin to slick my body.

"Ponyboy, why don't you sit down so we can get through?" Darry asked from somewhere behind me.

I eased onto the sofa and put the crutches on the floor in front of me just as Soda burst out of the bathroom and tackled Steve. Together again, I thought as Steve grinned and pinned him. But I didn't really mind. It was good to see Soda carefree again.

Darry's voice boomed from the kitchen. "Two-Bit!"

Two-Bit winced. He has a bad habit of leaving the contents of our refrigerator on the kitchen table. If I had to guess, I would say the milk was there along with the peanut butter and the jelly. The bread was probably still open with slices spilling out of the bag. A knife still goopy with peanut butter was probably glued to the oilcloth, crusting over on the top.

Steve and Soda were making too much racket on the floor for me to hear whether I was right about the kitchen, but the fact that Two-Bit wasn't joining them on the floor meant that I probably was.

Tim stood watching them for about a half second before stepping over them to dump the bags on Soda's bed. When he reappeared, he gave them another look and sauntered over to the coffee table. "You'd be smart to help me pick up this junk before Muscles finishes killing Two-Bit in the kitchen," Tim said, not bothering to raise his voice. He pinched four empty glasses, two in each hand, and headed for the kitchen.

Soda elbowed Steve and said, "You heard him. Get moving."

Steve hauled Soda up by one arm. "I move, you move."

Soda shook his head, grinning wildly. "Not my mess. Besides, I gotta unpack our stuff. I've gotta get some laundry going if I want to have clean jeans for work tomorrow."

He gave Steve a final shove toward me and the coffee table.

Darry passed Steve coming out of the kitchen and nearly dropped the glass of water and the towel of ice cubes he was carrying. He handed me the water and two aspirin. When I was done swallowing them, he handed me the ice bag he'd made out of a kitchen towel, ice cubes, and a rubber band.

"Put that knee up for a while," he ordered.

I wanted to argue that we'd only just walked in the door, but I could see from his face that he was grumpy. He's usually grumpy when we come in from somewhere, especially when the house is a mess. I didn't want to fight, so I just swung my leg up on the couch and plopped the ice on top of it.

Steve came back out to swoop the crumbs from the coffee table, just like I'd pictured earlier. I guess he made it safely, though, because Darry didn't stomp out of the kitchen to get the vacuum.

Things were chaos, as usual. Soda got the laundry started. Darry hollered at Two-Bit again, this time shoving him out of the kitchen with a clean dishcloth and the furniture polish. Steve ducked into our room to hide from Darry and keep Soda company, and Tim decided it was time to cut out. He's not a fan of getting bossed around, and when Darry gets going, he'll boss anybody he sees fit. If you're here, you're eligible. So he was taking himself off the roster. Two-Bit knelt down beside the coffee table as he went by, but he craned his neck back up toward Tim.

"Wish I'd thought of that," he joked. Tim just sneered at him.

"Take it easy, kid," he said over his shoulder, letting the screen door slap shut behind him.

I was more than a little annoyed being stuck on the sofa while everyone else bustled around the house. If it weren't for my knee, Darry'd have me in the bathroom with a toilet brush and the scouring powder. Though I guessed the sofa was preferable to more latrine duty. KP wouldn't be so bad, though. I didn't mind chopping carrots or peeling potatoes for supper. But the sounds of dinner prep started, and I was not asked to participate. Soda stumbled across my Louis L'Amours and thoughtfully brought them out to me, dropping them on my chest with a lopsided grin.

I gave in and lost myself in the one I'd been reading before our little midnight mystery drive. I didn't expect to really get any reading done, not with so much going on around me, but I was surprised when a shadow appeared above me. Darry grabbed the dripping ice towel off of my knee. I hadn't noticed it was melting because it hadn't fully penetrated the bandage.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Go clean up," he ordered. He was still cross.

"Yessir," I replied, already getting up off the sofa. He whipped around and gave me a long look. "What?" I asked. And then I realized. "Oh. Sorry," I said. "Force of habit."

Darry didn't answer. But I didn't miss the way his face softened as he turned back toward the kitchen.

I convinced Darry that I could do the dishes just fine since it didn't mean I'd have to crutch around anywhere. He probably thought I was nuts for volunteering, but I guess he was tired and liked the idea of just sitting down in the living room in front of the T.V.

I washed and Two-Bit dried. At least he sort of dried between rubbing my head and chuckling, anyway. He asked me a couple questions about camp. I sort of got the feeling that Darry had sternly warned him not to talk about it, because every time he asked me something, Two-Bit's eyes flicked over to the kitchen doorway, probably to make sure Darry wasn't standing in it. Just before I twisted the faucet closed, he scrubbed my head with his hand again and giggled,

"You're right about your hair, Pony. It sure looks goofy, but it feels real tuff."

I didn't answer. Now that I was back home, surrounded by the gang, my hair really bothered me again. I wished it would grow back to the way it was before school started, but I knew it wouldn't even halfway get there. No point in whining about it, either.

Soda and Steve were back on the floor by the coffee table, playing a fast game of sevens. It's not as fun with only two people, so when he saw us, Soda grabbed the cards from Steve's hands and scooped up everything they'd already played out and began to deal us into the game. I watched, but Steve didn't bother to roll his eyes. Maybe he knew it was pointless to argue.

I felt sort of edgy. There wasn't anyplace I could really go or anything I could do with my knee wrapped up, but I sort of wished one of the guys would suggest a movie or something. Course, I'd have to pay to get in. I wouldn't be jumping any fences for a while.

I ticked the hours off in my head. Seven o'clock, drill. Eight o'clock, p.m. inspection and light clean up. Eight-thirty, p.m. showers. Nine p.m., rest hour. Ten o'clock, final headcount. Ten fifteen, post up the next day's duty sheets and listen to the guys grumble about what was on them. Ten-thirty, lights out. Almost like clockwork, I felt myself wind down as ten-thirty approached. I tossed my cards on the table and said, "I'm gonna go sit on the porch."

Darry looked at me for a long second, but I guess he figured there wasn't much trouble I could get into out there. He turned back to the T.V., which he wasn't really watching, anyway. Unless there's a game on, Darry just sort of stares into space and thinks about stuff or he'll read the newspaper. I suppose he couldn't find it and was too tired to go looking for it.

It had cooled off some since the sun went down, and I flopped on the old sofa on the porch. I guess it was a little cloudy, because I couldn't see many stars. I was pretty disappointed by that. At camp, I didn't have much time to look at the stars, except when I pulled fire watch. And most of the time, it was cloudy there, too.

It was nice to just lie there with my eyes closed, listening to cars whisper down the street. Somewhere, a dog was howling. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was lonely. I heard some yelling down the street someplace, distant and muffled. After a few more minutes, there was a sound like glass breaking. I wondered if it was from the same place as the yelling.

It wasn't long before the sounds of the neighborhood lulled me to sleep.

A/N: Sorry so short. Just setting the scene.