On a Long Road

7. Christmas Visit

"I hope that wasn't a long distant call."

The voice makes me jump, and I turn around quickly, wide-eyed. Mr. Collins stands in the doorway, dressed in a suit and tie, looking at me.

"Well?" he says, annoyed when I don't answer.

I shake my head. "No."

"Good. But you have to ask before using the phone. Remember that next time, I'm not made of money." He walks up to the counter and starts making coffee. I stand awkwardly in my spot, not knowing if I should apologize, or help with something or not, but then Mrs. Collins rushes in in her morning robe and discovers me.

"Oh, good, you're awake. We have to hurry, or we will be late for church." She stops in her steps and gives my clothes a doubtful look. "You have anything better to wear?"

I look down on my jeans and sweater. My nicest clothes are still at home, but I wouldn't be able to wear them even if I had them with me. They remind me too much of Mom's and Dad's funeral.

"Um. No. Sorry."

"Oh, it's fine. I guess we can have a look into Ricky's wardrobe. He grows so fast that boy." She gestures at me to come, and I go with her down the hall. Ricky is still asleep, and his mom starts to nudge at him until he opens his eyes with a groan.

"Get up," she says. "God won't wait for lazy boys."

"Geez, Mom, can't I ever be allowed to sleep in?" But he doesn't wait for her to answer, just rises and shuffles out of the room. I hear the bathroom door being shut and locked, before turning my attention to Mrs. Collins, who now stands rummaging the closet.

"Try these." She turns around and gives me a pair of black pants and a white shirt. "Ricky had them last year."

I wait until she has gone out of the room before I try the clothes on. I guess they fit. I have to roll up the sleeves a bit, but it will work. I'm not so sure about this church thing, though. It's not that I don't like it. I used to go with Mom and Dad in the past, and after they died, I went with Johnny sometimes, before Soda and Steve and Two-Bit came along with us one time and embarrassed us so much we didn't dare to return. I think it just feels weird, going to a sermon again, with people I don't even know.

My hands fidget as I button the shirt. I really need a smoke. I can't believe how seldom I smoke these days. Darry wouldn't believe me either if I told him, but I guess he would be pleased. Or maybe not. Maybe he rather have me home, smoking three packs a day instead of being here almost not smoking at all.

Ricky comes back and gives me a nasty glare, so I leave the room and go back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Collins sets the table, telling me to sit down and eat.

I have to struggle with my breakfast, but no one seems to notice. Sharon and Luke had a fight at the table when Luke drags at her braid and then refuses to say sorry. I wonder if they are real siblings, but they are not much alike. I come to think of the state, and if they hade taken Soda too, would they have let us stay together? I always think that I want Soda here with me, but maybe they had separated us. The thought of him in another foster home is even worse than being alone here.

"Stop fighting!" Mr. Collins barks, and the kids get still. I glance at him while I drink my orange juice. I'm not sure what to think of him, but I don't miss the look in Sharon's eyes as she looks down at her plate.

xXx

A door flies open and knocks into the wall. Startled I stop screaming, and when I look up, delusional and tearful with a raw throat, it takes a moment before I recognize Mrs. Collins in the blur. Her face hovers over mine, and I suck in a breath in an attempt to calm down.

"What's wrong with him?" I hear Ricky say. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him sitting up, glaring accusingly at my direction. "He just started screamin'."

"Nightmares." Mrs. Collins puts her hands around my shoulders and forces me to sit. "Ponyboy, take this," she says firmly.

It's another pill. She puts it in my mouth, and then I feel the rim of a glass against my lips. I have to swallow.

"Go back to sleep now."

I lie down, not sure what is happening, but before I know it, I can't keep my eyes open.

xXx

I'm surprised that Ricky wants to spend time with me in school. When we have classes together, he sits with me or close by, and during lunch break he asks me to join him and his friends. They don't go to the cafeteria either, so it's all right with me. One of them, Dale, has his own car, so we mostly drive around and smoking and sometimes stopping at the DQ to buy Pepsi or Coke and hamburgers with our lunch money.

"Don't tell Dad," Ricky says the first time I see him light up a cigarette out in the parking lot, and I frown a bit. There is something about Mr. Collins I don't like. He doesn't say much, but when he does, it's always about something one of us have done wrong. Both he and Mrs. Collins know that I smoke, though, and they don't say anything about it, but I guess it's different for Ricky.

He appears to be a shop lifter too. It's mostly him and a guy named Craig that steal the stuff, while we others have the job to distract the cashier. Often it's Dale, coming up with stupid questions they all laugh at afterwards. I don't. His jokes are not near as good as Two-Bit's. I really miss hanging out with him. If I could, I would even start to laugh at his bad jokes.

I'm mostly quiet around Ricky's friends. The first time I met them, Dale recognized me from all the articles in the newspaper three months back. I felt so embarrassed when he asked what really happened with Bob Sheldon, and Ricky looked at me curiously. I didn't want to tell them about Johnny, but I had to. But Dale already knew about that too, of course. It was also in the paper, the hero that died. Since then, Craig asks me a lot about the fire, and he seems almost creepily fascinated about the murder.

I guess that's why they let me hang around with them, because I don't feel that tough anymore. Without my own gang of friends, it feels like something within me is missing.

After school, Ricky always wants to copy my homework, and I let him. I'm not sure he will get good grades from it anyway, because I don't put much effort in it. I hope Darry won't be disappointed, but I just can't bring myself to do my best anymore. It's like I don't care; I just want to live through the days until I can get home again.

Mrs. Collins continues to give me the pills every night. The bad thing is that I'm so tired in the mornings, but at least I can sleep. They really knock me out, taking away all the bad dreams. I wish it had been Soda instead, but until I'm home, I at least don't have to deal with screaming at night anymore.

A week before Christmas Darry calls. I have talked to both my brothers- and Two-Bit once too- now and then, but he hasn't said anything about me going home, and I have been too afraid of the answer to ask. But this time, as I take the receiver from Mr. Collins, I realize I hope Darry will say something about it, and he doesn't disappoint me.

"Hi, Dar."

"Good news," he says happily. "You can come home during Christmas eve."

I almost drop the phone, feel how I crack a smile. "I can? For real?"

"One day only, Ponyboy, but it's better than none, right?" he tries to convince us both.

"Yeah." My high spirit drops, but he's right. At least I can spend Christmas with them. "How come they're allowin' it?"

"Ms. West couldn't really deny it. She knows I don't abuse you, and it's a family holiday."

"But why can't I stay at home for real then?" The question just slips out of me. Darry is quiet for a long time, and first I almost think the line has went dead. "Darry?"

"Still here, kiddo." He clears his throat. "I can't tell you why, Ponyboy. We all know this is a mistake, they are just too stubborn. But we will get you back. You know we have promised that, don't you?"

"I know."

"Just a little more time, buddy."

I try to smile. "Okay."

xXx

They pick me up in the morning. I have stood on the curb for thirty minutes when I finally see the truck coming around the corner and stop beside me. I can't help but smile, but when Soda has scrambled out of the car I just start crying instead.

"Pony, what is it?" He hugs me tight, but all I can do is shake my head. I'm not sad, I think I'm happy. I get to spend the whole day with them, and then sleep in my own bed for one night before Darry has to drive me back.

When we climb into the car, the front door of the house opens up, and Mrs. Collins waves from the front step. Half-heartedly I wave back, just wanting to go. Back home, back to Tulsa.

Soda has his arm around my shoulders the whole ride. He's beaming, talking about how we will decorate the tree Two-Bit and Steve came with yesterday, and how great it is that I will be home.

I smile too. But I know that underneath both of our smiles is despair. The time will go too fast, and I will have to leave again, and then it will be ten times worse. Thousands of times worse. I don't know how I will be able to say good bye again.

All the tension drops when I put my feet on the porch, though. I really am home. And Two-Bit launches me up in a hug as soon as I step inside, and Steve stands on the floor with his arms crossed, but not even his smirk can hide his emotions. Not this time. I hug him too, and he flings an arm around me, a bit awkwardly, before letting go and taking a step back, his face back to almost grumpy. But I know Steve.

The house is a bit messy, and not decorated like it used to be when Mom was alive. She really liked to have all this stuff out for Christmas, but we have decided not to this year. It's the first Christmas without her and Dad, and with this foster home thing going on, celebrating is not really what we want to do in the first place.

I curl up on the couch with Soda beside me, breathing in the familiar scent of our house and the tree, not thinking at all about yesterday or tomorrow. What counts is now, talking and laughing and Darry's turkey and poker games. I feel warm and truly happy for once, and it's a good feeling. I have managed to live through so many bad things, I will manage to live through this foster care time too, knowing it only will be for a short while. It must be for a short while. I really feel I belong here, and I think that if Ms. West was here right now, she would just take one look at us and then tell me I can stay. She would see what we have, and I'm not talking about things.

Two-Bit claps his hands all sudden. "Let's make the tree pretty," he says, sounding like a little kid, and I laugh at him, feeling again how much I have missed him.

The tree stands in the corner, in its usual place at christmas. It almost reaches to the ceiling, and it's green and thick with fir needles.

"The Socs sure knows where to find them," Two-Bit says as he hangs up an ornament from the box Darry brought up from the basement.

"You stole it from a Soc?" I ask as I hang up some glitter. He gives me an offended look.

"Stole it? Geez kid, what do you think of me? I just borrowed it. I will put it back on their porch after christmas."

When we're done, Darry makes eggnog, and I drink mine even though I don't like it very much. It just feels so great, sitting here around the coffee table and talking. We are all so good at pretending. Pretending not to notice that four people are missing since last Christmas. Pretending I won't have to go away again tomorrow. Pretending we don't see the tiredness and sadness in each other's eyes.

I wish I could stop the time, but I can't. It's way past midnight when we all are suddenly more quiet, moving slower, breathing heavier, like the air has left the room. I see Darry blink, and Soda shrinking back even more into the couch.

"Can we please not go to bed?" I say, snuggling closer to Soda and trying to keep my eyes open. "I don't want to sleep."

I don't want to miss any time I can spend with them.

"Sure, kiddo," Soda says, and I rest my head on his shoulder, just for a moment.

xXx

A few days in into 1968, I lock myself into the bathroom and cry. It's Darry's birthday, and it just hits me hard that I'm not there. And Mom and Dad aren't either. They weren't there when I turned fourteen or when Soda turned seventeen, but at least we were together. Now Darry is twenty-one and he and Soda are all by themselves. It's not fair. It feels like I don't have a family anymore. The state thinks they gave me a new one, but really, it doesn't work that way.

I push my hands into my eyes and I try hard not to sob too loud. Everyone except Mr. Collins are home, and I don't want anyone to know. I feel so lost and lonely. It doesn't matter how many phone calls we manage to do, because I don't want to be talking to them by the phone. I want to be there. But the days just keep coming and going and I don't see any end to it. And I'm so, so scared that Darry's and Soda's promise won't come true.

xXx

"I didn't take it!"

"I had a ten-dollar bill in my wallet, Ricky, and it ain't there anymore. I know you have taken money from me before!" Mr. Collins face is red with anger, and I sit awkwardly on my bed, trying to do my homework as they shout.

"It wasn't me this time!" Ricky puts his chin out. "Why don't you ask Ponyboy, huh?"

My jaw drops and I stare at him, but he just grins at me behind his dad's back. Mr. Collins has turned to me now, and I turn my gaze to him instead.

"I didn't take it either," I say quickly.

"If you didn't do it, and Ricky didn't do it, then who the hell did it?"

I look at Ricky again. I'm sure it was him. I didn't see him doing it, but the expression in his face tells me so. His grin gets wider.

"I was Ponyboy, I saw him," he lies, looking very pleased with himself, but I can't believe he just said that.

"What?" I burst out. " I didn't!"

Mr. Collins's face gets even more red, but he's strangely calm.

"Come here, Ponyboy," he says sternly, and then he walks out of the room, leaving me with a sinking stomach. I have got a really bad feeling about this.

"You better go with him," Ricky smirks as he plops down on his bed.

"Why did you say that for?" I whisper harshly as I put my textbook down and stand up. "You know it wasn't me."

"What, it could've been you. You're just the foster kid. Everyone knows foster kids steal." He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, challenging me to say otherwise. Sometimes I really want to punch him. But I just glare at him again before following Mr. Collins back in the hall and into their bedroom. Stopping just inside, I see him walk up to their dresser and open up a drawer, and when he turns around, he has a folded belt in his hand. I stare at it and swallow, and quickly take a step back, afraid of what he's going to do with it.

"Reach out your hand, palm up," he says firmly.

I dip my head and do as he says. He hits fast, before I have the time to react, and when the leather strikes my skin it stings badly. I wince and feel tears rise in my eyes, but I blink hard so they will disappear. I refuse to cry in front of him, but damn, that hurt! My heart beats so fast, and I have to force myself to breathe evenly, waiting for another blow. It doesn't come.

But I don't dare move until I see Mr. Collins put the belt back, and then I press my arm close to my body, without bending my hand. I'm shaking, and my palm is burning, but I guess it could be worse. At first I thought he was going to ask me to take my shirt off.

"I want you to know that I don't take stealing lightly. You will pay me the money back, in one way or another. I guess you have already spent it, so then you will have to work for it."

Somehow I find my voice, but it comes out quiet and unsteady. "It wasn't me who took it."

"You want another hit with the belt?"

Mutely, I shake my head, looking down.

"Then stop lying. Go back to your room, you're grounded. You're not allowed to leave the room until I say so."

I nod and quickly turn around to do as he says, and when I'm back, Ricky closes the door behind me. I bet he stood eavesdropping the whole time.

"What did he do?" he asks.

I stand on the floor staring at my palm. It's red and a line has start to swell up across it. I curse lowly for myself, regretting sticking my right hand out - I should have taken the left. But I didn't know what he was going to do. Now I will have trouble writing my homework.

I throw myself down on the bed, feeling so tired all of sudden. Tired of everything. I hate being here. I hate it.

"Let me see your hand." Ricky has stepped up beside me.

"No."

"You should put ice on it."

I don't answer.

"I can go get you some."

I turn around to lie on my back, with my hand resting on my chest, closing my eyes. "Why do you care? It was your fault."

"I didn't think he was goin' to do it. He always threats doin' it, but he never does. He usually just yells."

"Why did you tell him it was me? It wasn't me."

Ricky snorts. "Because it would have been pretty stupid of me sayin' it was me, right? He knows it was one of us two anyway. Luke and Sharon wouldn't do it."

"What if I go and tell him it was you then?" I open my eyes and sit up, but Ricky just smirks.

"You think he would believe you? He's my dad, but you're just some kid living here."

I look down at my lap. He's right. Darry and Soda would believe me if I told them, but I doubt my social worker would. Suddenly I'm afraid that Mr. Collins will tell her. What if I'm in trouble now? But I didn't even do anything. And if I tell about this, he will say to them that I took money from him. So I can't say it, to anyone.

Dinner half an hour later is awkwardly silent. It feels like they are disappointed in me. It hurts a bit to hold the knife, but I manage to eat, and then I have to do the dishes, even if it's not my turn, as a part of my punishment. The warm water and soap sting too. I try to think of Johnny, and how he had it, and then it feels like I should be able to stand this. This is nothing compared to what his dad did to him.

When I'm done, Mrs. Collins takes me to the bathroom and puts some salve and a bandage on my hand.

"That was a dumb thing to do, Ponyboy," she scolds me lightly. "We took you into our home because we trusted you."

I don't say anything. If I say sorry, it's the same thing as confess, and the truth... what's the point in that? Ricky is their son, and I have only been living here for two months.

"Take your pill now and go to bed."

I take it from her, but I suddenly feel a bit insecure. The first can is already empty, and Mrs. Collins got another prescription, but I saw the can and it's not my name on the label. When Darry took me to the doctor that time, they said sleeping pills was an option, but Darry said no. He was firm about it, too, so I know I probably shouldn't.

"Come on, now."

I put it in my mouth and take the glass of water she gives me.

Later, I lie in the bed, and for the first time since I came here and started with the pills, I can't sleep. My mind is all foggy, my gaze dim, and my head hurts like hell. I hear Ricky breathe, but I don't know if he's awake or not. Slowly, I finger the bandage on my hand, thinking of how crazy it is, that the state put me here because of their opinions of Darry, and they don't even know that Mr. Collins is much worse than he can ever be.


Thank you so much for reading!