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Come to decide that the things that I tried
Were in my life just to get high on
When I sit alone, come get a little more known
But I need more than myself this time
Step from the road to the sea to the sky
And I do believe that we rely on
When I lay it on
Come get to play it on
All my life to sacrifice.
Hey oh listen what I say oh
I got your
Hey oh listen what I say oh
-- Red Hot Chili Peppers
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Pony's POV
"Kid," Two-Bit was saying, "if you barf in my car, you can forget ever getting a ride from me again."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm only on my third beer, Two-Bit. Besides, from the way you're drinking it looks like we'll be driving you home tonight."
Scoffing, he took a long drink and held up the glass. "Hey, I can handle my booze."
Soda laughed and shook his head. "The last time I heard that you ended up passing out in your mom's rosebushes."
Two-Bit had the grace to look embarrassed. He scratched his head. "Yeah. She didn't like that very much." Then he looked at Steve and grinned. "This time I can pass out in our rosebushes."
"I thought I told you not to encourage him," Steve berated Soda.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten. We had been at Lucky's Bar for three hours. I had told Sodapop that the name of the bar was the definition of irony since most people who came to the bar ended up knifed. Either Sodapop didn't care or he didn't know exactly what irony was because he ruffled my hair and told me I was funny.
The gang still liked the place despite its problems; they knew the bartender and could wrangle free drinks. Steve and Soda had fixed the owner's car at a heavily discounted price, hence the perks. I just hoped a pool cue to the head wasn't one of them.
Lucky's was a rare bar; both Greasers and Socs came here. Now that I had graduated I supposed Soda thought I could handle the 'big-time' bars. I didn't want to tell him that I had been here myself once or twice with Shakes.
Speaking of Shakes…"I'm gonna go call Shakes," I told the table.
"Ok. Here." Soda handed me some change. "Call Darry while you're at it. See how the cake turned out."
I punched the numbers on the payphone in the corner and waited until I heard Shakes', " 'lo?"
It was short and sweet: "Shakes. We're at Lucky's ."
"I'll be right down," he agreed.
Next I called our house, wondering if Dana was still aggravating Darry. I tapped my foot as I waited for him to pick up and winced as across the room Two-Bit nearly got slapped by some girl he was trying to hit on.
He'd never learn.
After nine rings Darry answered. Letting the phone ring that long was a record for him. "Hello?" His voice was hoarse. Probably from yelling, I figured from my own experience.
"Hey Darry."
"Ponyboy," he sighed. "About Dana-"
"It's fine."
"No, it's not fine." Darry sounded hurt. "It was your graduation and I wanted to do something to celebrate…" he trailed off uncertainly, then asked. "Where are you?"
"Soda took us to Lucky's."
Apparently, Darry was familiar with irony. "Lucky's?" he barked. "I can't believe Sodapop took you there," he muttered, almost to himself.
I considered something and then asked, "Why don't you come down?" I laughed. "You could probably use a drink."
He was silent for a second and then slowly grumbled, "I suppose I could do that."
I grinned a lopsided smile, knowing Darry was flattered I had asked. "Good."
XXXX
Walking back to the table, I passed Trevor Gayles, Paul Yates and Stan Bryant: Socs from my grade. I figured they were out celebrating just as us Greasers were. A loud cheer went up as they raised their drinking glasses. Paul crowed, "This is to Tom Nichols."
Instantly, the room seemed to shrink. I stopped abruptly next to them, my face on fire, my blood antifreeze.
It was as if on this night, in this ill named bar, the past and present had collided with a bang. Tom Nichols. Glory... The Soc from 'Nam; Karen Nichols' son; David Nichols' brother; and most importantly Trevor Gayle's best friend.
What a tangled web we weave ran through my mind.
Tom, the Soc who knew the truth and nothing but the truth. That I had went to Vietnam for Sodapop. And that knowledge had died with him, a bullet to the throat had seen to that.
I held my breath, trying to listen.
"What a waste of a good guy," Stan said.
New to the group and confused, Paul asked, "So what exactly happened?"
Trevor shook his head. "Tom would have been 21 today if not for some stupid son-of-a-bitch in his own platoon accidentally shooting him." His face was as furious as mine was becoming.
"Idiots all of them," Stan snorted. "Screw ups."
My eyes widened in shocked anger. Finally, I had gotten to a point where I could remember Vietnam without breaking into a sweat or wanting to run screaming for the hills. It had taken a while but I was there. And no Soc was ever going to gloss over what had actually happened.
"That's not right," I spit, stamping over to the table, not sure what I was doing, only knowing that I was pissed.
Trevor's eyes jerked to mine. We already didn't like each other from school and this definitely wouldn't help.
"What?" Trevor snapped, glaring at me. "I'd mind your own business Grease."
Stone-faced I looked down at him. "Maybe you should get your facts straight."
Trevor gripped his glass, itching to beat me to a pulp. "I think I'd know a little bit more than you would, Grease. He was my best friend after all." His eyes were furious; but I could tell they weren't at the death of his friend. They were the same Socs eyes I had always been looked at with. They hated us.
"Yeah, well," I blurted, "your best friend would tell you he was just sitting there when all of a sudden he got caught with a bullet through the throat. And it was from a Gook, not someone in his own unit."
Trevor blanched. "How in the hell would you know that?" he seethed, standing up. I stood my ground, knowing I had back up, if needed.
Gritting my jaw, I responded calmly, "I just do."
"Bullshit is what you know," Trevor spat, stepping closer to me. "I'd watch what you say Ponyboy. It's going to get you hurt one of these days." Covertly, between the 6-inch space between our chests he flicked out a blade.
Trevor Gayles fought dirty. Throughout my remainder of high school, he had reminded me of Bob. Sulky and rich. The only difference between the two was that Bob had been jealous and boozed up when he had tried to drown me; Trevor Gayles would do it for sheer fun.
"I'll take my chances," I threw back easily.
"Do we have a problem here?" Soda queried. He rocked back in his chair, stretching like a long, lazy alley cat, but his brown eyes were flashing. His chair balanced precipitously on its back legs, its front legs up in the air as Soda held the table with one hand.
I eyed him nervously. "Yeah, don't crack your skull open."
Soda laughed and the fire died in his eyes a bit. Two-Bit and Steve said nothing, just waited expectantly, grinning. We had fought together all our lives and knew the difference between helping out and butting in. I really hoped it didn't come to either.
I heard the small snap of the blade shutting and Trevor slid it into his back pocket.
Trevor snickered. "Good thing your brother's here to shut you up."
"Wait for the big one to show." Two-Bit looked at Trevor knowingly. "It'll be real fun then."
Trevor leaned in close. "You shouldn't have opened your trap." He smirked, flipped me the bird and then him and his friends left the bar.
"What was all that about?" Soda asked me as I pulled out my chair to sit down.
In my daze of disbelief, I exploded, words spilling out of me like a flood. I was so relieved that I could remember everything without the deep ache in my stomach that I just couldn't stop them. "Goddamn it! He thought our own unit killed Tom Nichols. On accident. Yeah, well wouldn't that little bastard like to know his best buddy, the Soc, saved this Greaser by taking a bullet to the throat." I sat back in my chair, like a sullen child. "I guess nothing comes out alive. Not even the truth."
Oh yeah. I had an audience.
They were more shocked then sad, their faces curious and pained. Soda forced himself to ask, "That happened right in front of you?"
"Yeah. And worse. I mean, shoot, Soda, that night was one of the worst nights over there. Tom saved my life but unfortunately I couldn't return the favor. And then…and then we got ambushed and AJ got shot and poor Shep just cracked up right then and there. Crock and I didn't know what to do, Doug just yelled at him but Shep couldn't stop crying for the life of him."
Cutting off abruptly, I exhaled shallowly. Ok, breathe Ponyboy, I told myself. I had gotten carried away. Biting my lip, I tapped the table at the awkward silence. "Sorry," I mumbled.
Steve shrugged, trying to seem impassive. Soda, who had been staring at the table through my tirade, brought his now sad face up and smiled slowly at me. "It's good."
Two-Bit mocked lightly. "What a buzz kill. Man, I need a drink after that." But he shot me a look, letting me know he wasn't unnerved by my story. His joke was for show.
"Well, then," Soda decided, picking up his glass, "let's drink to Tom."
Touched, I beamed at my brother. "Sounds good to me." We raised our glasses solemnly.
Taking a long drink, I thought about how fortunate I was to be sitting here and silently thanked Tom for allowing me that. But guilt was never a good thing and later I knew I'd rehash the 'why me?' vs. 'why him?' scenario.
Suddenly, interrupting all of our thoughts, a waitress delivered a drink to our table. A Shirley Temple was set down with flourish in front of Steve. "Your order, sir," she said giving him an embarrassed stare. It was a pink monstrosity. Cherries and paper umbrellas adorned the tall glass.
Two-Bit laughed heartily, tears springing to his eyes. "Steve, I never knew you had a thing for pink."
"Aw, what the hell?" Steve bitched, staring at it in horror. Soda slapped his back in feigned sympathy but laughed right along with me and Two-Bit.
Twisting in my seat, I saw the person I suspected was behind the prank: Shakes. He wiggled his eyebrows and moseyed on over to us from his place at the bar. Then, as I saw Darry walk through the door, I smiled; I was right where I should be.
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