DISCLAIMER: SE Hinton's a great writer who created really compelling characters - I 'aint her.
The room was orangey with the half light of dawn when Pony woke up to a throbbing ache in his leg. He looked down and groaned as he saw the white bedcovers stained in patches of red, yellow and blue.
Darry's gonna have a fit.
He moved Soda's arm off his chest and hauled himself up into a half sitting position before leaning back against the headboard.
Soda was lying facing him, taking deep peaceful breaths. He looked at his brother for a moment, thinking how Soda actually did sleep like a baby. His face sort of softened when he slept, making him look much younger than sixteen, and he flung his arms across the bed, so that nine times out of ten, his left one ended up across Pony's chest leaving his right one to sort of hang down over his edge of the bed.
He stomach felt empty, full of air, and he remembered how Darry had sent him to bed with no dinner.
Like I'm ten or something. His stomach gurgled loudly. That's practically child abuse, he grinned, imagining how he could put that particular argument to Herr Darrell.
It wasn't so funny, though, to think about how it was more than a fortnight before school started back. He pulled a hand through his hair and felt some grease, sticky on his fingers. He rubbed his hand on Soda's pillow and frowned. It wasn't so funny either that he was going to have to make it up to Darry. Talking to his brother seemed as difficult as ever these days. It seemed like after they had their big fight things got a little better, but lately Darry seemed kinda distracted. He was real tired, and worrying about money all the time. The little Pony brought in from lawn mowing and digging up gardens on the west side hardly seemed to make a dent in the pile of bills.
Glancing at Soda to check he was properly asleep, Pony swung round on his hips and reached down beside the bed for his jeans. He pulled himself up, a battered packet of Camels in his hand, and stretched his arm behind the headboard and across the window sill to release the window catch with his finger.
All in all it had been the crappiest of summers he thought, as he struck a match against the wood of the headboard and sucked in hard to get the end paper to ignite – they were slightly wet for some reason. He relaxed slightly as he felt the familiar rush of nicotine hit his bloodstream.
No one to hang out with, Darry stressed out and tired all the time, Soda never home. Not to mention the stuff that happened before school broke up. He shivered. No, not to mention that, not to think about that. He glanced down. And now this.
The one time, he paused for effect, struck by the injustice of it, the one frigging time, I find someone to hang out with and have some fun. And this happens. He took a deep draw on his cigarette.
"You're gonna catch it if Darry catches you smoking in bed." Soda said blearily from beside him, his eyes still shut.
Pony scowled. "So, don't tell him."
Soda screwed up his face, opening first one eye, then the other. He yawned and sat up, stretching his arms high above his head. "What's got into you, this early?" he yawned again, twisting across Pony to look at the clock on his desk. He groaned. "Pony – it's not even six yet."
His brother shrugged defensively. "I woke up."
Soda leaned back heavily against the pillows and shut his eyes determinedly. "Put it out." He said tiredly. "Or I'll catch it from Darry for letting you smoke in bed."
Pony shrugged. "So? Deny everything."
"And it stinks. "
Pony sighed loudly and make a point of grinding the butt hard into the window sill, before tossing it out the window. "Will you go get me something to eat?"
Soda opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow at his brother, amused. "Get something yourself."
Pony looked shiftily at the floor. "Darry said not to leave this room."
Soda grinned and sat up, his brown eyes twinkling. "Oh I get it – Darry gave you the whole bed with no dinner routine, huh?"
Pony squirmed against the headboard and shrugged. "I could get something. It's just – " he ran the palm of his left hand across the top of his head. "Sometimes, you don't want to, you know, antagonize a sleeping bear."
Soda grinned wider. "No kiddin'." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and moved to the door. He turned back and did a mock bow back at his brother, "Soda special comin' up."
Pony grinned, and listened as his brother moved in a typically un-quiet manner across the hallway to the kitchen. He figured it would be okay. Darry was so tired these days he used three alarm clocks to wake himself up in the mornings. That was something Soda had been exploiting – several times he'd climbed out of their window after Darry went to bed, and not come back until the morning. Pony wasn't so keen on being left on his own, but Soda never would tell him where he went.
And he never gets caught, Pony thought, returning to his theme of injustice. He's sneaked out tons of times this summer without Darry having a clue, and nothing. Then the one time I start having some fun – and this happens. He glanced at his leg. The bright colours of the paint had hardened into dull matt letters. If Darry had a heart, he'd let me off with a busted leg.
He jolted as he heard a pan hit the kitchen floor, Soda cussing, loudly, then quickly shushing himself. Pony grinned, Good plan Sodapop. He listened for the sounds of his brother across the hallway but as usual, nothing was going to wake Darry up.
His mind wandered back to the day before.
It had started off so well.
Curly wasn't meant to be out the reformatory for another three months, so it had been quite a surprise when he saw him in the grocery store. Pony had been staring at the candy, wondering what to get to make his dime last the longest, when he spotted Curly's solid frame, leaning against the shelves at an odd angle, wearing a leather jacket that was much too hot for this weather…
He felt guilty when Curly split the candy with him, taking a seemingly endless supply from various pockets and sleeves. They sat on a bench in the park and gorged themselves. Curly told him a couple of stories about the reformatory that Pony was almost certainly sure weren't true. He was trying to make himself sound tough, tough like his brother, but with Curly it was harder to pull off.
Pony frowned.
So all things considered, when Curly dared him to climb the roof of the grocery store, he probably should have backed off. But he goaded, and the summer had just been so damn dull, andhe figured, why not?
Of course, as usual with Curly, when they actually got on the roof, things got a little more complicated. He'd realised it probably wouldn't turn out well when Curly dropped – with more agility than you'd think for someone short like him - into the yard behind the grocery store, and started talking about finding the beer they stored there.
He found some too. Except then he had to get back up on the roof, and Pony was laughing so hard at him trying to climb up on the crates with six bottles of beer crammed into his pockets and shoved up his sleeves, that he forgot to look out, and they were both surprised by O'Toole's sudden whistle.
Pony had reached down and pulled Curly up onto the roof, and then they'd split – jumping off different ends of the store. It would have been fine too, if O'Toole hadn't picked Curly to chase after, and if Pony hadn't landed so hard on a concrete block so he heard that sickening crunch of bone.
He sighed, Soda was taking his own sweet time. He pulled the packet of Camels from underneath his pillow and grabbed one between his lips, like he'd seen James Dean do at one of the Nightly Doubles. He was running the match along the headboard when he heard someone clearing their throat at the door. He felt a rush of heat in his ears and looked up slowly.
