Along Came a Spider

Chapter 4: accusations

It's Tuesday and I'm spending the day in bed. Darry didn't want my teachers questioning his 'disciplining methods', so instead I'm on total lockdown. Two-bit didn't even question it when Darry told him I was sick and wasn't coming to school today. He just decided not to go either; not like he goes most of the time anyways. My lip is swollen and my nose hurts a lot, but nothing is broken. I am pretty sure that at least one of my ribs is fractured though. It's not even one in the afternoon yet and Darry has already called three times. I've written four letters to Soda, two to Johnny, and one to my parents. It was the first time I'd ever written a letter to my parents, even if it was inside my head. It went something like;

Dear Mom and Dad,

You think dying in a car accident was hard? Try dying three times. Once in a hospital from serious burns and a broken back. Once from being shot under the streetlights. And once in the Vietnam war. At this rate, you should be seeing me pretty soon.

-Your son

P.S. Tell Soda I love him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

I must have fallen asleep again, because when I wake up Two-bit is standing over me. He has this serious look on his face that is uncommon for him to wear.

"What? You aint ever seen a sick person before?" I ask him jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. He doesn't even crack a smile though.

"Ponyboy, what happen to your face?" Two-bit questions. It's odd for him to use my full first name like that, so I know he's really worried.

"Jeez Two-bit, you're not all that pretty to look at either, but you don't hear me complaining." I continue to kid as I sit up in bed and rub my eyes clear. I shouldn't have fell asleep again. I really should think more often.

"I'm serious Pony. It hurt to sit up like that?" He asks and I mentally curse myself for wincing.

"Nah. I'm good. Quit worrying." I state, taking my time to stand up. "You doing anything productive today, or are you just going to continue to be a lazy bum?" Two-bit is at my side in no time, helping me stand. I jerk out of his reach.

"Look Pony, at first I thought maybe you're little clumsy story was a little far fetched but now..." Two-bit says. I feel the blood leave my face and my hands shake.

"Y-you want something to eat? I'm kinda hungry." I say quickly, rushing off to the kitchen. Two-bit follows me slowly. He grabs my shoulder gently as I open the refrigerator to look for some eggs.

"Is...are you and...are you and Darry okay?" Two-bit asks quietly. "I mean does he-"

"Stop it Keith. Just stop." I demand loudly, slamming the eggs on the counter. "Just stop it, please." I say more quietly. Neither one of us say anything, so I use the opportunity to start frying the eggs.

"You want some?" I ask softly, trying to break the awkward silence. He takes the fork out of my hand and fries the eggs himself.

"You sit. I got this." He tells me.

"Don't treat me like some invalid, sick, person Two-bit Matthews." I snap even though I've already sat down at the table. He gives me a forced smile.

"I thought you were sick."

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"What's the difference between an orange?" Two-bit asks, scooping more cake into his mouth. He hasn't left me alone since noon, claiming he didn't have anything else to do but bug me. I don't mind though. Actually I'd rather listen to his dumb jokes than sit at home alone.

"An orange and what?" I ask, knowing this joke is going to be just as pointless and unfunny as the last.

"Just an orange." He answers smirking. Well, at least he thinks he's funny.

"I don't know. What's the difference?"

"A car has doors and a motorcycle doesn't." He informs me, laughing. I don't even pretend to get it.

"Are you trying to drive me insane? Two-bit, that makes no sense whatsoever." I tell him. He stretches out on the couch and winks at me.

"I know. That's the point." He says. I shake my head and decide not to answer anymore of his jokes. I don't have to either, because he changes the subject to something I wish I could forget about.

"Heard anything new about Soda?" I stare at the hole in the ceiling; smiling at the memory of how it got there.

"Soda, just because Santa brings the presents through the roof, doesn't mean that the Christmas tree goes through the roof too." My mom had told Soda laughing.

I had asked how Santa could get the presents into the house since we didn't have a fireplace, and Soda had told me that he probably just came through the roof and fixed it when he was done. I had insisted that we try it out to make sure it would work. Dad ended up fixing the roof on the outside, and just left the hole in the ceiling on the inside.

"No. Nothing new." I tell Two-bit. He looks at me sadly before asking if Darry ever talked about him. I shook my head.

"Well, he'll be okay." Two-bit announces. I give a sarcastic laugh.

"He's dead Two-bit." I state coldly. His eyes grow wide with surprise.

"Pony, you can't just give up on him like that!" He scolds. I roll my eyes.

"I aint givin' up on no one Two-bit. I'm just facing the truth. He's dead." I tell him matter-of-factly. And then I laugh to keep from crying.

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I used to wonder why people would watch the same movie over and over again. I used to think that a movie ends the same way each time, so there was no point in watching it more than once. Now I know why people watch the same movie over and over again; it's because they might see something they missed the first time. It's like when you rethink certain events and see how much you could have learned had you just paid attention. With hindsight you can catch the clues and hints and that you were too impatient to catch the first time. That's how I feel now when I think about the night my parents died, or the night Johnny killed Bob, or the night Dallas was murdered in the lot, or the day Soda left for Nam. I can see with eerie frustration the things that each of them had in common. The things they said with their eyes and hands and movements.

Before Soda left he had told me that if he didn't come back, I had to be good for Darry. I had to listen to him and be patient with him, because we were all he had. That he would do anything to protect us.

I had thought nothing of it. Soda would come back, and Darry had a lot more to live for than just the two of us. I was wrong.

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Curly Shepard came by at four today and told Two-bit and I that Steve had been locked away at a mental institution for trying to commit suicide.

After he left I cried for almost an hour. Then the phone rang.

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