Wordless
4. Steve
"So... will you go back to school again?" I ask, trying to sound casual while opening the hood of my car. I need to take care of the strange sound coming from the engine before it breaks down completely, but I hope it will be an easy fix. I throw a glance over my shoulder.
"Yeah, I guess. As soon as Pony can go back, you know?" Soda wraps his arms around himself, sniffing a bit in the cold weather. He looks away, a distant look in his eyes as he stares down the street.
I struggle a bit to find something to say, but I end up being quiet, biting my tongue as I turn back to my car. It's not that I can't talk to him, but sometimes everything I say just comes out blunt. He doesn't need my sarcasm right now.
There are times I want to step into his house and shake some fucking sense into the kid. I have no idea what his problem is, but I know Soda is taking it hard. And I know I'm probably being unfair - they just lost their parents, damnit, and the kid was there. I get it. I've kind of lost my mom too, but hell, life's harsh. It's just the way it is. There's no reason to stop speaking like that.
"Need any help?" Soda steps up to stand beside me.
"Nah, I got it." I glance up at him. "Is Darry home today?"
"Yeah." He grimaces a little. "He's talkin' about gettin' a second job."
"Doesn't he work full time already?"
"He says it ain't enough. For the bills and stuff." He sounds a bit nervous, and I know it's because the state is breathing down their necks. He doesn't have to say it.
"Hm." The words leave me again, and I frown. I pick up the wrench and a rag from my back pocket.
"So I was thinkin'... you got any openin' at the DX?" Soda wonders.
I look up again, in surprise this time. "You think Darry wants to work at a gas station?"
He actually cracks a smile at that. "No, genius. I'm talkin' about me. I thought maybe I can pitch in too. It can't hurt."
"After school?"
He hesitates for a second. "Yeah, after school. Maybe you can ask your boss?"
"I have a pass tomorrow," I say. "If he's in, I'll talk to him then."
"Great. But, um, I can't start until Pony is better." His smile disappears just by the thought of the kid. I eye him warily, but he just turns his gaze away again.
"Fine," I say. "I'll tell him that."
xXx
School is never fun, but it's worse when Soda is absent. I have people to hang out with, so it's not that, but we have shared classes since kindergarten. It's just strange, is all.
I push open the door to my math class, walk quickly down the aisle and drop my book on an empty desk, before dragging out the chair and sitting down.
"I'm glad you could join us today, Mr. Randle," Mr. Williams booms out over the room, and I roll my eyes, catching a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Only five minutes tardy - what's the big deal?
With a sigh I open my book and tap my pen against the page. I know I'm not stupid, but sometimes I don't get why I need to know things about History or Biology or fucking Algebra. I work with cars, and I'm damn good at it, too. I doubt Mr. Williams knows anything about them; he acts like his fucking letters and numbers are everything in the world that count. He doesn't know anything about real life, that's for sure.
As he stands with his back to the class, writing a math problem on the black board, the guy in front of me turns around in his seat.
"Hey, where's Sodapop?" he whispers loudly.
I stop tapping. "Why?" I mutter.
"I heard somethin' happened to his parents during Christmas break. That they died, or somethin'."
"What have you got to do with it?"
"I'm just askin'. He's my friend too."
I lean forward, bore my eyes into his. "If you were his friend, you wouldn't have to fuckin' ask what happened!" I snarl.
"Hey! Boys in the back, be quiet please!" Mr. Williams says loudly. I ignore him, continue to glare at the guy until he turns to face the front again.
When class finally ends I head up to the teacher's desk as the others leave.
"What's the problem now, Steve?" Mr. Williams sighs without looking up, just continuing to put his stuff into his portfolio.
"It ain't no problem. I'm just here to get Sodapop's homework."
Mr. Williams turns his head while taking off his glasses, and his facial expression changes. "How is Sodapop?"
I know Soda flunks in this class, but for some reason Mr. Williams likes him. I guess it's hard not to. Most people do.
"He's fine," I say a bit strained.
"Do you know when he will come back?"
"No."
Mr. Williams gives me a look.
"Maybe in a month," I mutter. "His brother is still in casts and stuff."
"I see." He opens a drawer, picks up a paper. "Here are the pages he needs to work on this week. I have written the explanations I think he needs to know for the assignment. He has someone at home who can help him?"
"Yeah, no problem." I take the paper quickly. I hate answering questions about Soda, a bit afraid of saying something wrong. I don't want him to get in some kind of trouble in school or with the state. I know Darry had a hard time being allowed to let Soda stay home with Pony during these weeks as it is.
"Give him my condolences."
"Yeah. Sure."
Out in the corridor, I fold the paper and put it in my back pocket, before going to look for Two-Bit and Johnny.
xXx
The house is quiet as I step inside. I catch the door with my hand so it won't slam shut, then close it carefully after me.
"Soda?"
There's no answer and I look around the living room. The kid is lying on his back on the couch again, his good arm over his eyes, appearing to be asleep. There's a big pile of school books on the coffee table, and I walk up to it, studying them. All the open notebooks have Soda's handwriting in them; even the ones belonging to Pony.
I sit down in the recliner, nudging his shoulder. He stirs just a little.
"Hey, kid? Where's Soda?" I ask.
He moves in a way that makes me sure he's awake, but he doesn't look up.
"I asked you a question," I say, and his breathing gets deeper, as if he's trying to trick me that he's asleep. I sigh, lean back for a while before I get too impatient. I rise to look around in the house, doubting Soda would leave the kid alone at home. But the kitchen is empty, and so is every room I look inside. There's no sign of him anywhere.
Frowning I go back to the living room.
"Pony?" I say loudly, and this time he lowers his arm, glancing up at me. "Where's Soda?"
He looks at the front door.
"He went out?"
He nods, struggles to sit up and, with another sigh, I go and help him. I grab his legs and swing them over, putting the casted one up on the table. A few books knock over and fall to the floor, but I ignore them.
Ponyboy rubs his eyes, then scratches his right shoulder with a grimace.
I sit down on the table, facing him. "Well? Where did he go?" I urge.
"Just out," he mumbles, not quite meeting my eyes.
"He didn't say where?"
He shakes his head, his mouth clamped shut now, and I take it that he won't say anything else. At least I got two words out of him. I get up again, cross the floor and walk out through the door, and this time I don't care if it slams. I grab my pack of smokes and light up, and I can't help but feel a bit worried. I don't get why Soda would leave like that.
I blow out smoke while pacing the porch, and when I turn around, I suddenly see someone standing on the curb down the street. I squint my eyes - yeah, it must be Sodapop. It looks like him. I raise my hand, but even though it seems like he's looking this way, he doesn't answer. With a curse I leave the porch and start walking toward him.
"What are you doin'?" I ask when I get closer, and it comes out harsher than I had intended it to.
He only looks at me, hands down into his pockets.
"Pony's home alone you know," I enlighten him.
"Yeah I know. I'm just gettin' some air."
"And you couldn't get that from the fuckin' porch?"
He almost glares at me. "What, I ain't allowed to leave the house now?" he snaps.
"I thought you were supposed to look after the kid!"
I wonder a bit why the hell I care. Because I don't. Soda looks away and I feel the worry increase - this is not like him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothin'."
"Like hell it's nothin'," I burst out, and he slumps visibly. He starts to kick at the snow drift lining the street.
"I don't know, okay? I guess I just go nuts sittin' home all day."
"You could talk to Darry -"
He turns around quickly, facing me. "No! I can't talk to Darry. And you can't tell Pony."
"Tell Pony what?"
He doesn't answer me first, just stares in the direction of his house, but then it comes.
"I hate leavin' him but I just had to. I don't know what to do. He hardly says anythin' and I just... I get frustrated. I'm bored." His eyes find mine. "That's bad, ain't it? My parents are dead and I get bored sittin' home with my kid brother. My hurt kid brother." He shakes his head for himself.
"Soda -"
He takes a deep breath. "You know what? Forget it."
"Maybe you should -"
He interrupts me again. "I said forget it. I have to go home. You comin' too?"
Without waiting for my reply, he starts walking. I hurry after him, determined to not let him continue like this.
xXx
"I ain't sure I want to," Soda says some days later, but he takes the new washed jeans Darry hands him.
"Just go out and try to have fun."
Soda looks grim. "What about Pony?"
"What about him?"
"I can't just leave him."
Darry sighs. "I will be here, and Johnny said yesterday he would come by tonight. He'll be all right."
Soda looks down at the clothes in his hand. I can sense him debating with himself, and I have to bite my tongue to not bark at him to stop being like this.
"Go take a shower now," Darry persuades gently before he leaves. He doesn't close the door after him, and Soda looks at me.
"You don't know how to keep your mouth shut do you?" he says lowly, but he doesn't sound so angry. I go into defensive mode anyway.
"It's not like Darry don't notice how you're climbin' the walls here without me telling him!" I retort. "Don't be so stubborn."
"I'm comin', ain't I? So stop naggin' at me."
As he disappears into the bathroom, I walk out into the living room to wait, sitting down in the recliner. The kid watches some comedy show on TV, but he doesn't really seem to know what's going on. His eyes are dull, and he blinks slowly, not even cracking a smile at the jokes.
He looks a lot thinner than he did before the accident. He was an annoying little brat before it happened, but now I frown, not knowing what to think. It's been over a month, shouldn't he snap out of whatever he's in to soon?
The shower starts running, and Darry comes, stopping on the floor in front of the TV. Pony should ask him to move out of the way, but he doesn't.
"Pony?" Darry says, and he raises his gaze, looking up at his older brother. "Did you read those pages in the book like I told you?"
I see the kid swallow, his eyes searching over the coffee table. Awkwardly he picks up one of the school books with his left hand, placing it on his knee.
"Homework on a Friday night?" I can't help but remark, and the book slips out of his lap, landing with a thud on the floor.
Darry moves to pick it up, handing it back to him with a scowl at me. I force myself not to roll my eyes. Christ, sometimes it feels like I'm walking on egg shells in here. Why not wrap the kid up in cotton even more?
"I have some laundry to take care of," Darry says. "Okay, Pony?"
He nods, holding the book in place with his casted arm this time, flipping through it with the other, while Darry turns off the TV and leaves.
Since there's not much else to do, I lean back to watch the kid as soon as we're alone. He notices it, glancing at me now and then, but most of the time he just stares down at the open page. It's obvious that he's not reading and, for some reason, that annoys me. He's supposed to be so smart.
I pick up my pack of kools, taking out a stick and rolling it between my fingers. I know not to light it indoors, their Mom's words still hanging in the room like every time someone forgot. When I raise my gaze, I noticing Pony staring at my hand.
"Want one?" I say.
He looks away.
"If you want any, just say it. Nobody here knows how to fuckin' read minds you know." I hold out the cigarette to him, but he doesn't take it. Instead he just sits there, biting his lip.
Giving up, I put the stick back in the pack. I don't feel like smoking anyway.
xXx
"Please?" Two-Bit says, unscrewing the cap of a pen where he sits on the couch next to the kid. "Just one word? A tiny, tiny picture?"
Pony shakes his head. "No."
"What?" Two-Bit wonders. "No word, or no picture?"
"Don't draw on it."
I turn my head back into the kitchen where I stand in the doorway. Soda bounces between the fridge and the stove and the pantry, picks up a spoon from the drawer and put it in one of the pans. He has been in a better mood since he started to leave the house now and then.
"Wanna taste?" He turns to me, the spoon lifted. I gesture with my head.
"The kid's talkin' now?"
"More than before at least." He says it casually, but I can see how he tenses. "Just hope he'll do that tomorrow too."
"What's with tomorrow?"
He shoots me a nervous glance, putting the spoon on the counter. "State visit. First time."
I feel the blood rush in my skull. "Shit."
He turns off the stove and wipes his hands on the kitchen towel, even though I know they weren't wet. "Yeah." He takes a breath. "Darry says it's gonna be okay, though."
"They gave him custody. They wouldn't do that if they had doubts about it." I try to sound convincing, not even able to picture my best friend living somewhere else. It's enough that his parents are not around anymore.
"Maybe."
"You ain't goin' to a boys home."
Soda just gives me a tired look. "Dinner's ready," he says then.
"Right." I hesitate a bit, thinking I should go and take Two-Bit and Johnny with me, when Soda takes down five plates from the cupboard and shoves them into my hands.
"Set the coffee table, okay?"
"Uh, you sure..?"
"Yeah, Pony sits better on the couch than on a chair."
"I mean this many?" I hold out the plates, and he looks at me a bit confused, then suddenly raises an eyebrow and grins.
"You don't want to eat my food?"
"I know about the money situation."
"It ain't that bad. We can feed you once in a while, no problem." He glances out into the living room, lowering his voice. "Darry's workin' late tonight and I... I mean, it's just so quiet. Without Mom and Dad..." He trails off, clearing his throat. "Just stay, okay?"
xXx
It's dark in the house when I get home. I dig out my key from my pocket, slowly turn it in the lock before I brace myself and open the door. I sneak inside, close the door silently behind me and make my way to the living room. The TV flickers soundlessly, lightening up the big bump snoring on the couch. I study the empty bottles sitting on the table. Well, at least we won't get into a fight tonight.
I leave the living room to go into the kitchen and open up the fridge. I take out a beer bottle, bite off the cap with my teeth and spit it out. I take a swing, feeling the cold liquor run down my throat. Life is fucking strange. Look at my dad. Look at Johnny's parents, how they act against him. Look at Dally's, even though I have never met them. No one would really care about any of them, no one would fucking cry in church if they were gone.
But it just had to be Soda's. Nothing's fair.
I go to my room and sit down on the mattress on my floor. I put the bottle beside me and start to untie my shoes, dragging them off along with my socks. A new swig. I usually don't drink during weekdays, knowing I have to put some effort in school so as to not fluke, but right now I feel like getting drunk. One bottle won't do it, though, and I won't dare steal more from Dad. He'll notice. Shit.
Without taking my clothes off, I lie down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I hate thinking too much, but my thoughts drift by themselves, to the day Mom decided to walk out on us. I know where she lives. I know I have a whole bunch of half siblings running around in that fucking house. It doesn't matter I haven't talked to her in over ten years; I still remember how she went out and never came back. Could as well have been a wreck, right? Feels like it.
There's a strange hardness in my throat, and I blink, quickly wiping my eyes with my sleeve. I lean up on my elbow to grab the beer again, and down it in one long drag. Then I rise to go get another bottle.
Who cares about anything anyway?
So... I'm not really sure how this came out; I'm not used to write Steve. A new experience! I just hope I managed to catch his voice somewhat okay...
Thank you so much for reading! :)