A/N - I'm bored, so here's another chapter. And no... I didn't just write this. I have 11 chapters done already... but am doling them out a little at a time. Thanks to all who have reviewed. I really do appreciate it. Calla.

Autumn Leaves

Chapter Four

Reverberations

XXX

My homework was done, laying in a pile on my bed. Books in one stack, notebook in the other. I'd been in my room all afternoon, coming out for only a moment just to give Darry my history report to proof. He'd already called me back to give me his opinion on it and to hand it over, saying he'd liked it.

"It's good, Ponyboy. The subject was interesting, the report filled with facts and laid out in an interesting manner, the flow of the report was catchy and best of all, the spelling was correct. You're a great writer, but you already knew that. I'm sure your teacher should like it."

"Thanks."

I'd put it in one of those clear report folders and had it safely tucked in my bag so I wouldn't forget it. From that point until now, I'd been sitting by my window looking out into the backyard like an unwanted puppy at the SPCA – the doomsday clock ticking the seconds away.

"Pony!" Darry's voice was both heard and felt coming through the walls. No one saw me, but I'd jerked anyway. "Come eat."

I got up, wiping my hands on my jeans before reaching the doorknob. I didn't really understand why I was still so jumpy, I was safe in my own house, after all. Still, sweat rolled down my back and my hands were slick. I wasn't even sure I was going to keep anything down, but I had to try before Darry clued in that something was up.

"So what's happening at school?"

I dropped my fork, it making a noisy clink as it fell to the floor as my head whipped around, wondering how he knew.

I'd gone to the john between classes, was minding my own business in a closed stall trying to hurry so I wouldn't be late for Social Studies, when I'd heard the bathroom door open. I heard the kid at the urinal suddenly yelp "hey!" then everything got quiet. Eerily quiet. Lets just say, I finished doing what I was doing in record time. Another second later, four pairs of feet were around my stall, the shoes nicer than any a greaser would wear. Then softly, someone was calling my name, and it wasn't a voice owned by anyone I knew. Or thought I knew. But they obviously knew me.

"Po-ny-boy! Remember us?" Came someone on one side of me. "We haven't forgotten!" Muttered someone opposite him. When he was done, another voice, deeper than the first two took over. "Come out, you little shit." And yet a forth, this one harsher, more menacing, sounded. "You're going to join your crispy little friend and the other douche-bag greaser shot full of holes soon." Then the first voice spoke again "They had it easy, compared to what we're going to do to you."

As soon as the last word rolled off his tongue, a terrifying frenzy began. All of them began beating on the stall walls around me. The echo of the clamor reverberated around the stall as if I were in the inside of a drum. I shut my eyes and clamped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sounds, but it didn't work. Then, as quickly as it had started, the noise was gone; their feet also no longer there. As I stood there stunned trying to catch my breath, I heard laughter fading away as the perpetrators fled down the halls.

I'd realized that if they'd really wanted to get me, that stupid slide lock holding the cubicle door shut would not have stopped them. Their scare tactic worked. I turned around and lost my lunch in the toilet where my cheeks had just been sitting. When I was done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my shaky hand, flushed for the second time, and came out. The bathroom was empty. I left it and ran all the way from the science building to grease central; the auto-shop. Only when I was there did I stop at the boys room and go in, wanting desperately to rinse my mouth, wash my face and try to calm down.

"Hey, kid. Ain't you supposed to be in class?" Some greaser I didn't know said, smoking a cigarette while perched on the window sill.

"I could say the same about you, grease. Mind your own business." I chirped. The restroom door behind me suddenly opened and I spun around, ready to fight if I had to. Instead, Two-Bit stood looking at me, worry on his face. Then his eyes rolled toward the kid in the window.

"Mark, you're done. Out of my office. Go."

"But...?" The kid, Mark, obviously wanted to stay, but Two-Bit had a 'don't challenge me' look to his face and "Mark" left, flicking his still-smoldering butt in the furthermost sink down on his way out.

"Hell kid, what brings you to the greasier side of campus? You look terrible."

I tried to hide my still shaking hands by returning to the faucets, turning on the hot and cold to try to get a non-scalding mix. "Nothing, just wanted to see how the other half was doing." Lame answer, but it was all I could come up with at the time. My brain wasn't processing excuses quite so well at the moment.

"Ponyboy, what is it?" He put his hand on my back, innocently enough and something he'd done a million times, but I recoiled at the touch, nearly taking out my hip on yet another porcelain sink in the row.

"Shit kid, enough!" His forehead was now creased with worry lines. "Don't lie to me. You're hiding something, something big. For one thing, you never ditch class; for another, you're white as snow, shaking like a leaf, and pouring more sweat than you ever do in a track meet. Now what gives?"

The verbal reminders of what I looked like were all I needed to conjure up the memories of them beating on the walls around me, closing in. I pushed past him for a stall, bringing up whatever was left in my stomach; bile, I think, from the way it burned hot in my throat. When I was done, I flushed again and leaned back against the stall walls as Two-Bit kept watching me. I couldn't hide the way I was shaking or the way the sweat was now making visible rivers down my face.

"Would you buy food poisoning?" I asked with fake nonchalance as I stared at the bare light bulb glowing overhead. The Shop class and the students taking it weren't important enough to warrant buying an actual lamp shade. Pathetic.

"You had the other half of the same ham sandwich I had, so no, I ain't buying food poisoning."

"Thought not." I wearily managed to return to the sinks, rinse my mouth and wash my face off, then dried off on those cheap brown paper towels that seemed to be the only type of towel the Tulsa Department of Education could afford.

"You get jumped?" He asked, looking me over closer, but not seeing any marks. There weren't any. Being scared so bad you puke your guts up won't leave marks, at least none you can see.

"No, I wasn't jumped. Let it go, please Two-Bit? I swear I wasn't jumped. And don't go telling Darry or Soda about this, or Steve either – cause he'll just go straight to Soda with it. Just pretend I never came in here. Be a buddy, alright?"

"'Being a buddy' always lands me in the hot seat when it comes to you. I swear kid, I wish you'd tell me what the Sam Hill was going on." His hand felt my forehead. "You ain't hot, but you sure look sick."

I turned to go.

"Hey, come back here!"

"Can't, I've already missed half of class."

He caught up with me, looking a mix of concern and anger. "Ponyboy...." he started, but I jerked away.

"Look, I can't stay in the bathroom any longer." I explained. "The smoke in there is making my lungs itch again. I got to get out, at least to fresh air. I'll be fine."

He understood about the lung itching thing. I can take being around others who smoked only but so long, then the want of a cigarette takes over. Quitting last summer had hurt bad, but I'd done it. Now that I had, I wanted to stay that way. The cravings ripping up my insides weren't helping though. Considering the thick, stale haze of smoke lingering in the bathroom, I was surprised I wasn't begging Two-Bit for a stick right then. He let me go and I headed back toward the main building alone.

Back in the present, Darry was looking at me, an amused look on his face. I reached down and picked up my fork, wiping it off with my napkin before using it again.

"Nothing, why?" The biggest lie I'd tried in a long time, and I was sure the truth was all over my face.

"I got a call from your coach, wanting to know if you've talked to me. What were you supposed to talk with me about?"

I thought about it, remembering the basketball tryouts. I sighed.

"Coach is wanting me to tryout for basketball. Said I'd make a good point guard."

Darry seemed impressed, grinning ear to ear. He knew I wouldn't go out for football, but apparently basketball was just as good. He was already satisfied with my track skills.

"Well, are you going to or not?"

I looked at him. "Darry, the uniforms cost more than my track gear! And away games will mess with my studying. I'm already overloaded as it is."

He jaw slowed down as he mulled it over. "Don't let the expense stop you. If you want to go out for basketball, do it. I'll find the money somewhere. In the meantime, your grades are all perfect. I don't see why you can't try out at least. Give it a shot. A three point shot!"

"Har har." His joke was lame, but he did manage to coax a smile out of me.

"By the way, what happened in Social Studies?"

Smile gone. I felt my face tense. That was the class I was late for. I managed to get a handle on myself in time to hear the last twenty minutes of lecture. I couldn't help notice the smirks of some of my soc classmates as I handed in the slip I'd gotten from the nurse. I'd stopped by her office in the main hall and gotten the slip, telling her I'd been in the bathroom with a very upset stomach and couldn't help being late. It was sort of the truth anyway. Since I wasn't one to ask for tardy slips in the past, she took me at my word and handed me the paper. The teacher took it without question, and I was allowed in with nothing further asked or said.

Until Darry wanted a better explanation.

"I was late getting to class. Had a stomach problem. That's all." I said, taking an extra long gulp of my milk to keep from having to say more.

"A stomach problem?" He asked, expecting more. He was neither the nurse nor my teacher, and simple explanations were never enough.

"I'm pretty sure you can understand 'stomach problem' without my having to go into more detail, Darry. Lunch didn't agree with me is all. However, if you want to know color, consistency, odor...."

"No, that's quite alright, Ponyboy. Just don't eat whatever you ate again." He quickly stopped me, not wanting to ruin his own appetite in the process.

"Um, who called?" I wanted to know who'd ratted me out.

"The nurse. She calls if any student requests a sick slip. Told me you looked authentically sick, but seemed well enough to stay in school."

He made Soda a plate and covered it in foil then put it in the fridge. He'd be in later, both he and Steve were still working off their many debts of swapped shifts from when I was in Hollis. I sighed, knowing this schedule was going to continue for a long while. I got up to wash dishes without being asked, not really hungry anymore. It was a habit I'd brought back with me from Mrs. Nixon's. Doing the dishes seemed to settle my nerves somehow, and no one around here complained about it, either. When I was done, I plopped down in front of the TV to watch whatever was on, anything to break the silence. An hour later, Darry got up to go hang at the DX station.

"I'll be back in a bit."

"Alright." I flipped off the TV and went back to my room. Standing there, I felt like the walls were closing in. I couldn't get the echo's of those soc's banging on the stall walls out of my head. It still caused shivers to run up and down my body. I left my room, feeling uncomfortable alone. Everything was just closing in and I had to get out. So I did.

I went outside into the back yard and curled up in one of our lounge chairs, staring at the stars. I spent a while looking for the constellations Lyra and Sagittarius to keep my mind busy. I never noticed my lids getting heavy, and before I could find Pisces, the sky turned black and I was asleep.

XXX

"... lights are still on. Wonder if he's watching the late show." Darry pulled up and we headed inside. "Pony?"

The couch was bare, the house silent. Darry went to check Pony's room, then looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. "He's probably in my room." I reasoned as I headed to the kitchen sink to wash a days worth of grease off my hands. Darry checked, but came back shaking his head.

"He ain't there either. I told him to stay put. Now where..."

"Darry, look...." I'd cut him off, noticing the back door was open. I thought he'd be leaning across that low hanging tree branch of his, but Darry spotted him across the yard instead.

He was curled up asleep in one of our chairs, his hands tucked under his chin for warmth. The evenings were getting colder, reminding me of our darkest night a year ago. I could tell Darry was remembering it too. That date was drawing nearer, both of us worried how Pony'd handle it.

Darry reached down and picked him up, carrying him to his room and carefully sat him down on his old mattress. I slipped his shoes off then covered him with his blanket. Ponyboy never woke. I could only hope his dreams would leave him in peace for once.

He'd earned some happiness by now.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose