Movers and Shakers

XxX

Nick's chewing the end of a pencil. I keep my arms crossed, sitting in my chair, trying not to let my legs bounce. Max keeps his dark glasses on, reading the article I now know by heart:

Jamie Coleman slit his wrists at Cherry Hills Hospital. The boy, 18, retired to his room yesterday at around 2:40 p.m., police said. He was discovered by the nurse on duty at about 5:00 p.m. that evening. He was taken to St. Joseph's hospital where he was pronounced dead. Sources say…

Max knows it too. Tulsa World published the story. When he's finished, he folds the paper up like a pro and sets it on top of the notes and clippings Nick and I have compiled. "Tell me kids; you think this is some sort of…?"

Nick and I look at each other. Nick seems hesitant, so I manage, "Conspiracy? Or something. Sir."

We're both waiting for a laugh. Instead, there's a long pause and then Max chortles. He takes his sunglasses off, eyeing Nick. "It's good research. Good theory. You following your hunches?" I stare at the ground; Max doesn't think it's me.

Nick holds his hands up. "Curtis brought me the story. I'm just tagging along."

"Too many coincidences," I say with a wary shrug. "I just thought…"

Max's eyes swivel my way. "You may have something, kid," he says, putting his sunglasses back on. "Give me a few days. Let me talk to some folks."

Nick looks at me. I swallow the lump in my throat.

XxX

I stop by the DX. Before going inside, I pause at the entrance, watching my brother through the glass. He's flirting with a woman at the counter, a wry smile on his face. He cashes her out, gives her another grin and she's on her way, exiting and brushing past me as she leaves. The door swings shut. They don't see me.

Soda and Steve banter inside; I watch their mouths move mutely. After a long moment, I turn around and go home, not sure what I had to say anyway.

XxX

On Friday all of us go down to watch Steve drag race. He's fixed up his truck real nice and wants to give it a go. Kathy, Liz and Evie are there, even Nick tags along. Shiny trucks line the street, dusk falling. Everyone around us is smoking and it's killing me. I start coughing and move away from the crowd, feeling eyes on me.

I sneak off the best I can, a safe distance away from the party. I can make out the forms of my brothers: Soda cheering Steve, Darry watching the race, while talking to Nick. The girls smoke and talk. I'm anxious about the conversation earlier in the week with Max, craving a smoke so bad it hurts. At least my hands are calm, getting me through the day.

Two-Bit finds me, sitting on the tailgate of Darry's truck. "Kiddo, this is not a good look for you."

"What is?"

"This," Two-Bit gestures, "Whole moping act you got going on."

"Yeah, well, I never said I was the life of the party."

He laughs and rubs a thumb down a long sideburn. The smile fades. "Soda says you have pneumonia." Two-Bit cocks his head when he looks at me, his grey eyes flinty.

"Yeah," I say, rubbing my palms on my jeans. "Something like that."

"Shoot, Ponyboy, you gotta take care of yourself." He chuckles, toeing his shoe in the gravel. "And to think I was gonna ask you to be my best man."

"W-What?"

"Yeah, I need a witness and thought you'd work out okay." Two-Bit keeps his voice light but it doesn't help. I'm touched. And afraid. I think of the people in my life I'm letting down. I let loose an achy sigh. I cover my eyes, wetness beneath.

"Shit, Ponyboy," Two-Bit swears, "No need to get sentimental…I was just—Kid?"

I moan into my hands. "I'm still taking those pills."

I can't see his face but Two-Bit stops breathing for a second. "You mean—the pill pills, not your medicine?"

"Yeah. Those pills."

"Oh, Jesus—"

"Oh, man. I'm so screwed up…"

"Hey, hey, hey," Two-Bit pries my hands from my face. "What the hell are you thinking, Ponyboy? I mean, what're you doing? Jesus Christ—"

"You can't tell anyone." I grab Two-Bit's arm. "You can't tell Soda, and definitely not Darry, I mean it, Two-Bit. They'll kill me. I'll quit. I promise. I can't do both. The smokes are already too much and I just—"

"Okay, okay, calm down." Two-Bit scoots closer, his face dark. "Look, I won't say shit to Darry but you gotta try okay?" He sticks a finger in my face. "You gotta try so goddamn hard Ponyboy Curtis because if I keep this to myself and something happens to you…I'll fuckin' kill you myself."

XxX

Max catches us in our office. "Adam wants to put someone on the inside. Do a little investigative journalism."

"It's that easy?" Nick asks, surprised.

"He's got connections. He'll work a deal." Max leans in the doorway, watching a receptionist walk by. He lowers his sunglasses to check her out. When she rounds the corner he turns back to us. His smile is wide. "Let's have a chat."

XxX

The three of us go to a bar on the seedy side of town – The Ugly Duckling. With dim lights and murky music it's perfect for a hushed conversation. I pour my meds into my hand underneath the table and swig them down with water.

Nick rolls a shot glass between his knuckles. He's chewing his lip, evaluating what Max has asked us. "Don't get me wrong, I like it, Max. But…I gotta ask…why us?"

"I know you two want a story. You've been gunning for one ever since you started. 'Sides, you brought us the story. Fair's fair."

I arch a brow. "Journalism's fair?"

"Bullshit," Nick says.

Max's laugh cuts through the bar. "I'm likin' you more and more, kid." He downs his scotch. "In all honesty, we're short staffed, no one else wants to do it and—"

"You'll throw us to the wolves," I finish.

"Pretty much, yes," Max says. "But that said…it'd be a really ballsy assignment. Get you somewhere."

Nick frowns. "A byline. Front page?"

"Probably. If it's good. If it's somethin'."

Nick turns to me. "Whaddya think? You wanna commit yourself?"

"What?"

"It's your story."

"Yeah but…"

"C'mon. It's perfect. I'll do the outside…you'll be inside…yeah, man." He raps the table so hard I jump.

Max is staring at me. "What do you say?"

I wrap a hand around my glass of water. Already my mouth's dry, recognizing what it would mean to do this. Cold turkey. Nothing. A commitment I don't know if I want. Or if I'm brave enough to do it.

"I gotta think about it. Okay?"

Max nods. "Okay."

XxX

I've never felt so confused after the conversation I've just had with Max and Nick. I twist the door handle and walk inside my house. The first thing I notice is the silence. The second thing I notice is Darry sitting at the kitchen table. Two-Bit's in the next chair.

I lick my lips, shutting the door behind me. Darry glances my way. "Ponyboy." And just the way he says my name, defeated, hurt, tells me all I need to know. Two-Bit keeps his eyes on the table.

"We need to talk," Darry says.

I stay put, frozen in between the living room and kitchen, a kind of limbo. A kind of I-don't-need-this-right-now. "You promised," I tell Two-Bit. My voice sounds loud.

Two-Bit shakes his head. His eyes meet mine. "I couldn't, kid. I'm sorry." He puts a hand across his mouth, elbow resting on the table. I stare at Two-Bit, feeling betrayed.

"Are you still taking those pills?"

"C'mon Dar—"

"I'm not gonna ask you again, Ponyboy. Are you?"

"They're not illegal."

"Ponyboy," Darry says, exasperated. "That's not the point. They're not candy – they're drugs. Drugs."

"I'm fine, Darry."

"Fine? That's all you ever say – I mean do you actually believe that?" I don't say anything and Darry starts up again. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? They're turning you into someone I don't even know anymore. It ain't good, Ponyboy."

I scowl at Two-Bit. "Thanks a lot."

"Ponyboy!" Darry snaps.

"Jesus, leave me alone, will ya? I'm fine."

A chair squeaks, diverting my attention. Darry crosses the room in two strides and grabs my arm. "Damn it. You're so smart but my god you're acting like a complete idiot." He shakes me. "Why? Why are you doing this? Why?"

"Darry!" Two-Bit hollers. Darry lets me go.

My face is hot. I back up and sink onto the couch, sticking my hands between my knees. "I don't know. I don't know, Darry."

"Have you been smoking?"

"Once. Just once."

"I told you—" Darry's shaking, his face twisted up. "I told you what would happen if you—" He cuts off, paces toward the kitchen and uproots one of the chairs. It goes flying, slamming against the refrigerator. Two-Bit's eyes are probably as wide as my own.

"What am I supposed to do with you? What?" Darry yells. "You're scaring me, Pone; I'm fucking scared for you."

"I don't want any help. I'm fine. You're the one making me stay here. If you'd just let me—"

"C'mon, kid." Two-Bit's voice is soft. "You're not makin this easy."

"You stay out of it. I trusted you and you – you rat me out?"

"Pony, it's not like that."

"Well, it sure as hell looks like it." My eyes feel heavy. "I don't—I don't…" I smear my face in my hands. "I don't want to talk about this. I just want everyone to leave me alone."

"Pony, don't."

"Can you call Sodapop? Can someone just call him?"

XxX

I hole myself up in my bedroom.

Soda comes over and we fight. He's not the gentle brother I remember; when Darry tells him what's been going on he looks like he wants to sock the living daylights out of me. In fact, he nearly does.

XxX

The next morning it's just me, Darry and Soda. We sit at the table and have a family chat. Liz is nowhere to be seen and Darry looks like he's gone twenty rounds in the ring with Ali. Soda can't finish a full sentence, his voice cracking every time.

I give them all the pills they think I have. I apologize and tell them it's over. Done. Finished. I'm gonna try so hard.

Darry puts his head in his hands. He tells me if I don't stop he's going to duct tape my mouth shut, hogtie me and lock me up in the basement. No one laughs. Soda excuses himself from the table and walks out.

XxX

I take my prescription. I ignore Two-Bit. I forget about Tulsa. I don't smoke. But I still have an anchor chained to my leg miles long leading back to Darry and Soda. I don't' know what to do with them.

What I really want to do is look in the mirror and see someone else.

I go to my job, ignoring Nick's questions about why I'm so quiet. He wants to talk about Cherry Hills and I tell him to forget it.

XxX

"Are you okay?" Liz asks one morning. She fills the kitchen sink with hot water and soap. It's one of the first times we've spoken without Darry around.

"Darry hates me doesn't he?"

"He's just worried sick about you, Ponyboy. We both are."

"I don't know what to do." I bite my lip, stopping myself.

"About what?"

"Nothing. Everything." I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm saying."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No, I'm okay, Liz."

"Pony." Her hands twist around the towel she's holding.

XxX

I find an old ashtray of mine, buried in the drawer of my nightstand and take a deep breath. I shove it back into its spot and shut the door. I think of Cherry Hills and I think of my brothers and I call someone I used to know.

XxX

"'lo?"

"Colin? It's Ponyboy Curtis – I uh, I'm not sure if you remember me or—"

"Sure, I remember you." He laughs. "What's up, Curtis? I got a deadline."

I take a breath. "What if – what if there's something you gotta do but can't?"

"Did I teach you 'can't'?"

"No."

"Then do it. Make yourself. You'll be laughing when your name's in the paper – Oh, wait, you're the bleeding heart. You don't want glory." He snorts roughly. "Okay, okay, fine. You'll be laughing when you save someone's life."

I hang up the phone.

XxX

"Can I borrow your truck?"

My two brothers are huddled in the kitchen, talking quietly and when I approach they both wince. They do this a lot lately, lingering suspicion always in the air. Darry looks at my outstretched hand like it's a snake.

"The truck, Dar," I prod.

"You okay?" He's squinting.

"I'm okay."

Soda nudges him. "Give 'em your keys, Darry. He ain't gonna run off."

Darry gives. The keys are cool in my palm.

XxX

Cherry Hills is on the outskirts of town. An old, glorious building, with 20 floors, situated on a 30-acre space, nestled among oak trees and leisurely dirt roads. With five different facilities it's the place to be if you've got a problem in Oklahoma or even the mid-west. According to the articles I've dug up it provides all sorts of treatment for people with mental disorders and addiction. Three of the people who've died come from Ward B. Ward B is the mental health facility. Floor 13.

I let the truck idle across the street. Clouds bloom in the sky, sweeping across the plains.

I remember driving by Cherry Hills with my mom when I was young and not knowing what it was. I thought it was a castle or maybe a haunted house. Now I'm not sure what to think.

XxX

I find towels in Darry's room – freshly washed and folded. There's a photo of Liz and my brother on the dresser, a picture of our parents and one of the three of us. It's creepy being in the room that was my parents and now it's Darry and Liz's. Hastily, I grab a towel and go to get out.

And that's when I see them. Library books scattered on the comforter. Books about addiction and teenage issues and substance abuse…and…

I rush out of the room, ready to fall over.

XxX

The books Darry is hoarding push me over the edge.

I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna help and get help and get better. I can't put my brother's and my friends through my shit. I can't stop on my own and I need a drastic shove forward.

Cherry Hills needs me as much as I need it.

XxX

Pardon typos. SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. Please review.

Many thanks for the previous reads and reviews. Always appreciated for taking the time.

XO,

Feisty