"Ow!" He hissed at the last swat. It was the first time he made a sound through the entire thing.
I released him, and the second I did, he scrambled onto his bed with his back facing me. "Ponyboy rather you like it or not, you're going to be a decent human being and not act like some delinquent. I won't have it."
He didn't even so much as nod his head. The infamous silent treatment; he could play this game way better than Soda could.
"Look at me," I said firmly. He didn't bother to even acknowledge that I was talking to him. I was starting to get pissed off again. I grabbed his arm and forced him to face me. "I'm going to tell you this once, if I ever see you sitting on a police bench again, it's going to be one sorry day on your part."
"Darry! I need some help!" Steve's voice came from out of the blue. I left Pony to his own thoughts. I watched as Steve Flung Soda on the couch.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"He's dying or something," Steve said. "I had to practically drag him here. I told him we should have gone home early last night."
"What are you rambling about?" I asked. I knelt down next to Soda to get a good look at him. His face was pale, which was a bad sign. Usually in the summer we all tanned up really good.
"He said his throat hurt last night, but he didn't want to leave the party. Now he can hardly talk."
"That true?" I asked Soda.
He nodded his bleached out hair. The kid was lucky. The summer sun gave him some nice hair. It bleached mine too a little, but not like his. I pushed his hair back, and then felt his forehead. I bit my lip as the palm of my hand went warm. Maybe it was just the heat.
"What were you guys doing before?" I asked.
"Sitting on Two-Bit's porch," Steve answered for Soda. "Is he okay? He really can't talk."
"It's like swallowing razor blades," Soda choked out. His voice was raspy, and his words were slow.
"Sounds like he has strep throat. He'll be fine." I rubbed the top of Soda's head. "Don't worry, they just give you a shot or two."
"Shut up! They do not."
"Oh yeah, you can expect a call from Mrs. Matthews. She wasn't to keen with him running bare foot. I tried to tell her that it was just the way Soda was." Steve smirked.
"Wonderful," I mumbled. I watched Soda pull a blanket over him. The kid was going to make me start sweating. It was way to for a blanket. "Here Soda, Swiss Family Robinson is on."
I turned the TV to the movie that was on. Steve scrunched his nose. You would have thought I turned the channel to lions ripping zebra flesh, and eating it. "Man, I can't deal with this shit." He looked over to see Soda focused on the screen. When he was sick was the only time Soda actually watched TV. It was the only time he sat still long enough to watch it.
I sat down next to Sodapop. "Believe me, I'd rather watch the game."
"No way, baseball is boring," Soda said sounding like he had a wad of cotton in his mouth.
I looked up at Steve and shook my head. Sometimes, I wondered if Soda was dropped off from a different planet, and my parents found him somewhere and took him home. What American doesn't like baseball?
Steve snorted. "I'm out of here. I'll tell the boss you'll be out. Darry, I'll give you the highlights of the game tomorrow."
"Thanks," I said. I was hoping Soda would fall asleep before the end of the game. Just my luck, he didn't. His fever went up to one hundred and three. It had been a long night; by the time morning had rolled around, I could tell it was going to be one hell of a long day.
"Ponyboy lets go!" I shouted. "Come on, the faster I get Soda to the doctor, the sooner he gets better. Soda put your shoes on."
Soda got up off the couch. He disappeared down the hall, and then came back with shoes, and Pony. I smiled a little. "Alright, let's go."
Soda sat miserably between us. Ponyboy didn't look like he got much sleep. There was so much tension in the car it was almost unbearable. I pulled up to the address that was given to me at the station. I figured it would have been a soc church, but I was wrong. It was literally in the middle of no man's land. A few windows were broken, all the rest were painted black. The words: do you know what you preach were painted on the wood doors. The handwriting was a little too familiar. Soda made a noise in his throat when he saw the damage done to the church. There was a tow truck in the parking lot. My guess was the Ford with four flats was attached to it was the Priest.
I stepped out of my truck to meet the deputy. He was standing outside chomping on a doughnut. If I were his size, I would have laid off them two hundred pounds ago.
"It's a catholic church," I stated. "So it was a priest whose tires he slashed." I wanted to tell him he was a moron for mixing up a revered and a priest.
He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm not a church going man. Reverend Mike, Father Mike, same damn deal. This is what Curly and Ponyboy did to the church. It already wasn't in good shape, but they just added fuel to the fire."
This wasn't my most proud moment. I felt humiliated. I walked around to the passenger side door, and opened it. "Get going."
Pony looked over at Soda. He had a pleading look in his eyes. Soda wasn't going to be able to get him out of this. Soda shook his head. He was still starring in disbelief at the church. "Go on," Soda said softly.
Pony rolled his eyes. He got out of the truck, and looked at me and scowled. He slammed the car door hard enough to make the windows rattle. Soda buried his head in his hands and groaned. Ponyboy didn't see that; he took of running like a fire was lit underneath him toward the church.
"Holy hell," I said getting into the car. "What on earth would posses him to do that to a church?"
Soda just shrugged, he still had his head in his hands. "I think he is just bent out of shape. He lost his parents, and his best friends this year. Johnny and Dally didn't die that long ago. He is only fourteen. It' got to be hard on him."
"That isn't an excuse. We weren't raised to do things like that. I know you are smart enough to understand this whole ordeal. I don't care how hard it is on him. You can't justify his actions. It's hard on all of us."
"Hell isn't holy, Darry," Soda said randomly. He had scooted over to take the spot next to the window.
I couldn't help but grin, even if he was trying to change the subject. "Shut up."
A/N: Thank for the reviews! I forgot a disclaimer: so I don't own the Outsiders. Next chap is in Pony's point of view; I think it will be.
