Disclaimer...I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 3

Letter in the Mail

School had become my escape. It was what I did to keep my mind busy, to not focus on the real issues at hand. If I kept my brain engaged in science, math, history and English than I wouldn't have time to think about Soda being gone. Not only gone but in danger. Real danger. Deadly danger. Where the gang couldn't rescue him from the enemy and the enemy wanted him dead. Dead only because he was there. The fact that he was there against his will wouldn't matter, not to the enemy. I saw the news on TV, I read the paper. Johnson sent them away alive and Ho Chi Minh sent them back dead. This knowledge ate at me when I thought about it. I tried not to think about it, which is why I buried myself in my school work. But everyday when I come home, I had no choice but to think about it.

I pass the DX everyday going home but I don't stop by much anymore. Steve ain't there either, according to Two-Bit he took off and enlisted right after Sodapop left. Some other guys were there now, taking their places. I sort of know them but it ain't the same. They used to ask how Sodapop was and if I'd heard from Steve, but over time the questions stopped and the station began to feel less comfortable to hang out in.

When I'd get home everything would be quiet. The TV wasn't on, nor the radio. No one would be there leaving their shoes out for me to trip over. The mail would still be waiting in the box.

It's part of my new routine. Walk home, get the mail, go to my room and do my homework. Then do my homework from scratch again. Check to see if my first set of answers matched my second set. This kept my brain occupied usually until Darry got home or Two-Bit showed up.

Two-Bit. He wanted to give me rides home from school, but I usually avoided it. He asked too many questions like "how ya doing, kid." That is a stupid question and I was sick of it. But he is my friend and I didn't want to hurt him, so I usually beat it out of school before he found me.

The soc's were leaving us alone for once. They were too busy scampering off to college to avoid being drafted. Surprising. I'd almost welcome a good fight to put my mind somewhere else besides a jungle where the enemy lay, waiting to kill my brother.

I trudged home that day as I had for the last three months, hoping a letter from Soda was waiting for me in the box. As long as I had a letter I had hope. Most days the box was empty, except for the regular bills and junk advertisements. Guess it's hard to sit and write when someone is targeting you for destruction.

Reaching my house, I pulled out the mail and went inside. There, on top was a brown envelope. The return address and our address was typed, so there could be no mistake it was to come to us, from them, the Department of the Army. It looked like that letter we got nearly six months ago, except that one was addressed to Mr. Sodapop Patrick Curtis and this one was for Mr. Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr. My stomach began to knot up and my head began to hurt.

I didn't want to do what I was doing, but my hands wouldn't listen. I opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper. Don't! I told my hands, but they didn't listen. My eyes began to read the words on the paper, but then my sight failed. Was it raining in the house? My face was wet. Tears. My head ached as if it were in a vice! I couldn't think for the pain in my head.

I suddenly realized I was on the floor, how did I get here? Wasn't I standing, reading the mail? Oh yeah, the mail. I looked at the paper in my hand again.

"We regret to inform you that your son, Sodapop Patrick Curtis, was killed in action on..."

I couldn't read anymore. They couldn't even get it right! He wasn't our "son," he was our brother! It didn't matter about what the rest of the letter said either, it was just details. Sodapop Patrick Curtis, killed in action. He was gone.

Why am I here? I looked around the house and couldn't think of a single reason for my being here. This house held nothing but sadness and pain for me. It was here that the police came to tell us Mom and Dad were dead. Here where Darry hit me. Here where I was forced to accept Johnny and Dally being dead and here where the news of Soda being killed turned from being a "possibility" to a "reality."

Suddenly, I hated it here. I loathed it here. I didn't want to be here anymore. I went to my room and dumped the contents of my track bag on the floor, pushing what I could under my bed just to get it out of my way. Inside it went as much clothes as I could carry before topping it off with my things from the bathroom. I didn't have much cash but what I had would have to do and shoved it deep in my pockets.

Finally I slung my bag on my shoulder and looked around the house. Laughter didn't echo off the walls anymore. Hope was gone. I turned, opened the door and walked away. Something out there had to be better than what was here, because there was nothing here for me any more.

CLR

I know...depressing. But it gets better...please don't give up on this story. I would love your honest reviews. Thanks!