AN: How goes it, Kats and Kittens? Not much happening around here. So sorry about the delay. I've been swamped with school work. A thing or two before we get started. I realize I made a booboo and didn't quite tie some things up in the last chapter, so I changed it a bit. And to save you from going back and having to read it all again, I'll just tell you what I changed:
So, Soda and Steve sort of ran off when
they heard word that Pony was in the hospital, yea? And their boss
sort of threatened to fire them, but in the last chapter, I have Soda
going off to his job again, so I just added a line or two with Soda
saying he'll be late for work and Darry saying he's lucky to have a
job at all considering his boss was soft on them on account of
Ponyboy being sick and all and blah, blah, blah. You get the picture,
yea?
Well, enough of that, neh? Enjoy!
Chapter Seven:
Dallas Winston spots the Curtis house a block before he reaches it, the house that many a night and day he has found a safe haven in. As he approaches the small home, he can only hope that the youngest of the Curtis brothers has not worsened in the last ten minutes it has taken him to run from his father's apartment in town, and he curses his car, the infernal machine that had broken down only the other day.
Steve stands from the porch and yells inside, "Hey, Two-Bit, he's here!"
Two-Bit breathes a long sigh of relief as Dally hurries past Steve and rushes into the living room.
"How's the kid?" He pants breathlessly, leaning down and removing the already warm cloth to check the boy's fever.
"Not good, Dal," Two-Bit replies anxiously, standing and stepping back next to Steve to allow him some room. "His fever's shot up a bit, and he just keeps shakin' and mumblin' that he's cold . . . He wants Soda and Darry."
"So why didn't you call them?" Dally shoots, taking the cloth and walking into the kitchen. He searches until he finds a small bowl, filling it with ice from the freezer and water from the faucet.
Walking back into the living room, he barely acknowledges the other two as he wets the cloth and wrings it out.
"Pony? Can you hear me?" Dally asks softly, dabbing the cool cloth along the young boy's face and neck. "Come on, Kid." Slowly, Ponyboy opens his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat and coming in wispy gasps.
"Dally?" He whispers, unable to emit anything more.
"Yea, Kid. How ya feelin'?" Dallas allows a small smirk to play at his lips as he wets the cloth again and continues to wipe the young Curtis's sweaty, pale skin.
"Not so good." Pony shivers against the cold, whimpering as he tightens his grip on the blanket covering him.
"I expect not," the older boy attempts to lighten the mood with a slight chuckle. "Don't worry, Ponyboy. You'll be fine. Soon as we get your temperature down, you'll be right as rain."
"Rain ain't always right," Ponyboy points out, a smile breaking out on his face.
"Too true," Dally returns dazedly, brushing the younger boy's hair out of his face as he slowly slips into a light doze.
"Is he gonna be okay, Dal?" Two-Bit's soft voice breaks Dally's thoughts, and he turns to look at the two forgotten young men standing anxiously behind him.
"I dunno," he sighs, looking the pale, shivering figure up and down skeptically.
"He don't need a hospital or nothin', does he?" Steve questions, attempting to seem uninterested but failing miserably.
"Not yet," Dally swipes a hand over his face, sighing into his palm before standing and running his fingers through his hair and linking them at the nape of his neck. "If he keeps on like this, though, he might."
"How you know so much about this stuff?" Two-Bit asks curiously.
For a moment, Dallas's eyes glaze over with a distant thought, his teeth grinding almost painfully.
Turning to the two, he smirks, saying, "None of your business. Now the two of you get in there and start makin' dinner or somethin'. Make yourselves useful."
0 o One Week Later o 0
"C'mon, Darry, I'm fine. I wanna go back to school."
Ponyboy has never in his life thought that these words would come from his mouth, but after two weeks of being pent up in a hospital and at home, he is ready to get away from it all and stretch his brain.
"I just don't know if you're ready, Pony. After last week . . . Dally said you were pretty bad off with that fever and all," Darry sighs, looking his younger brother up and down with disapproval. His clothes do nothing to mask the wiry frame beneath, a result of eating very little since his return home, and the soft purple color beneath his eyes caused by sleep deprivation only intensifies the garishly sunk-in look of his facial features.
"You don't look so well, Pon," Soda agrees with Darry, coming up behind Ponyboy and placing a firm hand on his shoulder in support. "Maybe a day or two more would do you good. They'll understand."
"I don't want to be stuck around here for another minute," Pony argues angrily, shrugging Sodapop's hand off. "I want to go to school, Dar. I've already missed loads of school work, and I probably won't be able to run track the rest of the semester. I . . . I just don't want to sit around anymore. I gotta get out of here." Ponyboy's eyes plead with Darry silently as the eldest Curtis struggles between allowing his brother's wants or needs to come first.
"Alright," he finally gives in with a great heave of his chest, "but Two-Bit stays with you at all times. I mean it. I don't want you out of his sight for a minute, and if you start to feel funny, you get straight to the nurse. Hear me, Pony?"
Ponyboy cringes at Darry's terms, but nods all the same.
0 o 0 o 0
"Hey, Grease."
Ponyboy hesitates for but a moment as he places his English book inside his locker, but a moment is all the grating voice needs to see that he is vulnerable and still on edge.
"Heard you got a nice little bath a couple weeks ago."
Immediately, a Soc appears to his left, leaning on the lockers beside his. Pony recognizes him as a boy from his geometry class, a jock from the football team, one of those "letter-jackets," as they're called. A big, stupid grin graces his squarish head, his hands shoved firmly into his jacket pockets until one comes out and ruffles Ponyboy's hair.
"Looks like they didn't leave you in long enough to wash out all that grease, huh?"
Pony swats his hand away, grabbing his history book and roughly shoving it into his backpack. He slams his locker shut, producing a loud bang, and discretely searches for Two-Bit, who seems to be nowhere in sight. His stomach drops as he remembers that it is Tuesday, the one day that their lunch schedules are different, so there will be no hope of rescue from the eldest group member.
"Hey, where you goin', Grease?" The jock follows him down the hall as he starts for his next class, stepping on the back of his shoes and shoving his shoulder. Ponyboy does nothing, hoping that if he ignores the other boy, he will eventually grow tired of torturing him, but, slowly, more and more students are gaining interest in the banter, giving the Soc the attention that he wants.
Suddenly, the notebook that Pony clutches closely to his side, is ripped from his grasp from behind and thrown to the ground, causing him to wheel around on the perpetrator.
"Oops," the jock grins widely. "Looks like you dropped something, Grease."
Ponyboy doesn't move, warily staring at the notebook on the ground and glancing back up at the group of onlookers that has gathered around the troublemaker. He can see the glint in the Soc's eyes, the need for making his day a complete and utter living hell. So, slowly, returning his gaze to his notebook, he leans down and reaches for it. As he expected, there is a rough pressure near his shoulder as the larger boy places his expensive sneaker on his collarbone and shoves him backwards harshly.
Ponyboy falls back onto the hallway tiles with a small grunt, staying still for a moment before attempting to stand back up. Before he can manage to sit up off of his elbows, however, the jock's foot is back, this time resting on his chest and pinning him to the floor. The weight pressing against his ribcage is almost unbearable, and he struggles to release the pressure as he grabs the other boy's ankle.
"S-Stop," he wheezes weakly as he glances around desperately for anyone who can help, cursing the school for strategically placing his locker in the Soc-occupied part of the school.
"Hey!" A voice says, suddenly, cutting through the laughter and chatter of the preppy group surrounding them. Ponyboy prays for Two-Bit, a teacher, another greaser for Christ's sake. Anything that will get him up off of the floor and as far away from this jerk as possible. The person that breaks through the crowd, however, is not what he expected, and, in fact, makes his hopes sink.
"Bob," the jock pressing him against the floor smiles in greeting. "Just in time. What d'ya think we should do to finish him off, huh? The dumpster? Maybe he could go for another dunk."
At this, Ponyboy's eyes widen and his heart races with fear.
"Layoff."
Bob's words surprise both boys.
"What?" The jock asks in confusion. "What d'ya mean 'layoff'?"
"I mean what I mean," Bob replies unemotionally, staring coldly at the other Soc. "Now get your foot off of him and let him up." The jock doesn't move for a long moment, but, soon, realizes that the other boy is not playing around and releases Ponyboy. Bob reaches down, taking hold of Pony's arm and helping him to his feet.
"You okay, Ponyboy?"
The question confuses the youngest Curtis boy for two reasons: The first being the question as to why a Soc should care about the well-being of such a lowly greaser, especially one he had attempted to drown not two weeks before, and the second being that Bob called him by his name. Usually, it's "Grease" or "Kid" or, on most occasions, "Hey, you!"
"Fine," Ponyboy pushes past his lips before quickly bending down to snatch his notebook and start off down the hall once more. The stunned group, thankfully, stays put and merely stares after him, but Bob follows him, matching his stride.
"Are you sure?" He asks in what sounds like genuine concern, but Ponyboy knows better. "It looked like it hurt."
"It did. Thanks," the younger boy forces gruffly, walking past the classroom he is supposed to be entering and heading straight for the front doors.
"Where are you going?" Bob demands as they make their way down the entrance steps and into the sunlight.
Ponyboy stops, suddenly, wheeling around with an angry look upon his face as he stares the Soc down.
"What's it to you?" He spits malevolently, causing a few students sitting with their backs to the brick building to turn their attention on the two. "Why are you following me?"
"Pony?"
The youngest Curtis looks towards the school to find that one of the figures sitting against it is Two-Bit, who starts towards them with a wary look upon his face.
"What's goin' on, Kid? This guy botherin' you?" The older greaser looks Bob up and down, stepping between him and the other boy. "Thought we told you at the hospital to stay the hell-"
"Two-Bit," Ponyboy interrupts quietly, "I wanna go home."
"School ain't gonna be over for another three hours," he says, glancing at the tower above the school, on which a clock displays the current time.
"I don't care," Pony argues, his fingertips rubbing his temple. "I wanna go home. I don't feel too good."
Without another word, Two-Bit turns and slings an arm around the younger's shoulders, starting towards his car. Bob watches as the two disappear behind the other vehicles in the lot, sighing as he turns and heads back into the school. As he enters, however, he hears the same grating voice that had taunted Ponyboy only moments before.
"Hey, Bob. Didn't know you were gettin' so soft on these greasers."
"Shut up, Harry," the other Soc grumbles, pushing past the jock roughly.
"You aren't turnin' on us, are you, greaser lover?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Bob spins on his heels and lands a right hook on Harry's jaw, sending the jock to the floor with a bloody lip and a grunt of pain. Bob turns again, ignoring the stares of awe and astonishment as if nothing had just happened. With no teacher's witness and no student brave enough to confess the violation, it may as well not have.
AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard to any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?
Again, Kats and Kittens, my extreme
apologies for not updating this story as much as I'd like to. School
can be hell . . . Anywho, I'll see what I can do about the next
chapter, but I'm running out of places I can go with this . . . Any
suggestions? They're more than welcome. Thanks!
Lots of Love. ;)
