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Glory but I felt awful. My head was spinning and I'd thrown up in this guy's house after he'd let me come over. He and his family had been real nice to me and I was getting sick in their trash and barely able to hold a conversation or play cards when he was being good enough to try and play cards with me. I couldn't believe how nice his mom was…how easy she let me into her house and tried to help me feel better and even seemed worried about me. When was the last time a grown-up had worried about me? I mean, I guess Darrel was a grown up, but he didn't really seem like one. Not like Two-Bit's mom.

Two-Bit didn't need to babysit me. I'd been dizzy and tired like this before after Aaron had hit me. Plenty of times actually. But Darrel had been the same, asking if I was feeling sick or anything, and they had all been watching me real close at Darrel's house. It was nice of 'em and everything, but it wasn't necessary. I looked out for myself. I always had. Besides, what happened when they got sick of looking after me? Or when I made one of 'em mad? But I hadn't been able to think too much about that…or anything really. My head swam and Two-Bit had pushed me back to lay on his couch, so I had. Then when he'd asked about my mom, I'd told him the truth, which was an awful stupid thing to do. If my own mom hadn't wanted me, there had to be something wrong with me. They'd figure that out soon enough. For the moment, though, I just closed my eyes and let myself sleep.

As I slept, I thought I heard voices, and instinctively I stayed real still, half awake and terrified. "…throwing up…wasn't looking too…at work…" I only caught fragments of Two-Bit's words but wasn't able to put them together. "Yeah…I think he…"

I'd become a light sleeper living with my uncle for the last few years. Sometimes he'd come into my room at night and start yelling or throw something at me when I was asleep. There wasn't much of a pattern to his behavior, really, as much as I'd tried to find one. I just avoided him whenever possible, but mostly when he drank. The new house was good because he hadn't broken the lock on my door yet. We'd see how long that lasted. As I dozed at Two-Bit's house, though, no one yelled and even the TV volume was kept low.

"Kiddo, you awake?" I heard someone ask. I stayed real still, keeping my breathing low. Aaron bothered me the least when I was asleep, or pretending to sleep, even though I wasn't always safe even then. A wet cloth was placed on my brow and I wondered if I had a fever. A new ice pack was placed on the side of my face too, and I shivered from the cold, only to have the blanket pulled up around me, and a hand patted my shoulder. It was surreal…it had to be Two-Bit I guessed because his mom and sister were gone. Was this what friends did for each other?

"Thank you." I murmured it, my voice so quiet even I could barely hear it, but he squeezed my shoulder, and there was a smile in his voice.

"Sure thing, Ponyboy. Get some more sleep."

"Time is it?" I asked, not opening my eyes. I was still awful tired.

"Almost nine." I tried to open my eyes then, but it was harder than I'd expected. Sleep was trying to pull me back in.

"You don't gotta stay with me all night, Two-Bit." I tried to assure him. Then again, maybe he didn't want me alone in his house. "I won't touch nothing," I promised. He sounded upset when he spoke again after a long pause.

"Shoot, kiddo, I ain't worried about that." He said, adjusting the wet cloth on my forehead and running his fingers through my hair like Sodapop had. "You need to get some more sleep. I'm fine. Don't worry about me." I wanted to reply, but my head swam and I couldn't focus on the conversation for any longer, so I closed my eyes and let it take me.

The nightmares had started when I was seven or eight and living with my grandfather. Sometimes I couldn't remember them, and I'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night, waking either my angry grandfather or, later, my furious, vindictive uncle. My grandfather would usually just bang on my door and scream at me to shut up. My uncle wasn't nearly as forgiving. The worst nightmares, though, were the ones I could remember…the ones that had actually happened.

I'd woken up in the middle of the night. I can't remember what woke me up...maybe a noise outside. Mom and I had lived in an apartment on the second floor at the time...a place we'd only moved into a few months earlier, right after my seventh birthday. Before, we'd lived down the street from her father, but I think something happened to her job...she lost it or quit or something. Ever since she'd spent all of her time in the bedroom, the lights out as she'd watched the sitting TV on her dresser. I'd tried to climb into bed with her sometimes...to get her to make dinner or take me to the park. She'd just pushed me away, telling me to go play in that listless voice she'd had for as long as I could remember. Sometimes, when she was asleep, I'd lay on the bed beside her, curling up under her arm and pretending she was holding me. Usually, I'd wake up alone, finding her in the living room, curled up on the sofa under a blanket asleep.

In the dream, it started with me walking down a hall…a long, dark hall like the one at my grandfather's house, but in real life, it had been a short hallway. This one was lined with wood panels and old pictures of birds she'd drawn. She was an artist before I was born. Never made much money, but she loved it. It was the only thing that had really made her smile, coming to her with my notebook and asking her to teach me to draw something. Birds were here favorites. She said they were so free.

The blue curtain, made of plastic and covered in cartoon fish, had been drawn around the bathtub and I'd stood in the doorway for a long time, sure there was a monster in the bathtub. My heart had hammered in my chest as I'd just stood there, frozen, waiting for it to jump out at me. Then I'd edged my way forward, swallowing hard. In my dream, I'd called out for my mom, but really I'd been silent when I'd reached out, pulling the curtain to the side in one fast jerk.

She'd been wearing her bathrobe over a pair of pink, fuzzy pajamas, her slippers sitting beside the bathtub on the floor. In my nightmare, her eyes opened and her head rolled toward me, waking me instantly, the scream caught in my throat, and when I stared at the ceiling, I felt hot tears trail down the side of my face. I left them, closing my eyes again and trying not to start sobbing lest I wake someone, one hand firmly over my mouth to keep the noise in. I missed her so bad and she hadn't even wanted me. That thought only made it worse, and my chest got tight as I rolled over, hiding my face in the couch cushion. Suddenly I was thinking about Sodapop…he'd lost his parents too. Did he ever have nightmares about them, or was he too old? When he did, would Darrel sit with him? Tell him it was gonna be okay? Darrel seemed like he'd do just about anything for his little brother. Sodapop was so lucky.

In reality, I couldn't remember the next few hours after finding my mom in the bathtub...apparently I'd called my grandfather, but that had been hours later, and the next thing I remember was sitting on a hospital bed, nurses running back and forth as they made phone calls and talked quietly to one another. Actually, everything between finding her and reading a book one day in my new room at my grandfather's house was all a distant blur…one I didn't really want to think about.

I swung my feet over the edge of the sofa and sat up, wiping my eyes. The Matthews' carpet felt thick and soft under my bare feet, and I rubbed a hand down my face, yawning and stretching a little, trying to ignore the tight pain in my chest. The little clock on top of the TV told me it was 2 in the morning. I couldn't help but notice that I was feeling better…my head was mostly clear and even though I was groggy, nothing hurt too much anymore. I touched my nose gently…tender but not as bad as before. It would probably heal crooked. I took the washcloth and the ice pack and padded into the kitchen, dropping them gently in the sink, glad for something to do but wishing I had a cigarette.

I stared down at the sink for a moment, hands braced on the counter. I wasn't as sick anymore, but I still felt weird. Maybe because I'd slept for so long and was still tired. I wondered if my uncle was still looking for me, or if he'd moved on to other things. Like more drinking. Thinking about his drinking made me realize how thirsty I was and, hoping it wouldn't make anyone mad, I opened their cabinets until I found the glasses. Two-Bit had said he wasn't worried about me touching anything…maybe they wouldn't care as long as I was careful.

After filling the glass with somewhat cold water from the sink, I gulped it down, sighing in relief once it was all gone. I supposed I hadn't had anything to drink since I'd fallen asleep…something like 10 hours ago. I wished I was brave enough to take a couple of slices of bread to appease my growling stomach, but since I wasn't, I filled the glass again. It was a trick I'd learned early on...if you drank enough water, you stopped feeling so hungry.

Soft footsteps made me jump, and I gripped the glass, desperate not to drop it. Bad things happened when I broke things. I spun around guiltily, expecting Two-Bit to be standing there. It was his mom, though, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling a little, and I felt my ears get red. She was probably around 40 with long, curly red hair just like Two-Bit's, tall and pretty and friendly looking. "I'm sorry...did I wake you up?" I asked, the apology automatic. She just softened, leaning in the doorway.

"You didn't wake me, sweetheart. I just got home about an hour ago. Haven't gone to bed yet." She told me gently. Two-Bit had mentioned that she worked in a restaurant and I guess he meant a bar. "I was just thirsty, I guess. Thought I'd make some toast and get a glass of water."

I hurried out of her way, watching as she filled her own glass with water from the sink, then headed back to the living room. I mean…I didn't think she was gonna hit me or nothing. She didn't seem the type. But…it was best to be out of the way. "Think you're up to keeping me company?" She asked, making me pause in my tracks. I looked at her hesitantly, trying to read that smile.

It was her house, and she'd let some strange kid sleep on her sofa. If she wanted me to keep her company, I guess I could do that. "Um...okay. Sure." I murmured, pausing in the doorway.

"Would you like some toast?" She asked, pulling out a few slices of bread. I shook my head automatically even though just the thought made my stomach growl angrily. If she heard, she didn't give it away.

"No thanks...that's okay." She gave me a once-over, then pulled out more bread.

"Okay. I'm just going to make a few extra pieces, just in case." She nodded toward a kitchen chair, and I took a seat, moving slowly, my eyes on her back as I sat. She placed the pieces in the toaster two at a time while I stared at the tabletop in the dim room. Light shown in from the window since the moon was pretty bright, but I wondered why she didn't want to turn on the light. "So, Ponyboy, huh?" She smiled as she said my name and I got ready for it, tensing a little. "I have to admit when my friend told me she was letting her husband name their baby 'Sodapop,' I was skeptical. But it sure seems to fit him somehow, huh?" She asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It does."

"I think Ponyboy fits you too." She told me, nodding to herself at something. "Do you think you'll be going to school soon?" She wondered, changing the subject.

"Um...whenever my uncle gets me registered," I told her.

"Did you like your last school?"

"It was okay." I murmured. The toast popped out of the toaster and she placed two more pieces inside. Opening the icebox, she pulled out the butter and put it on the table.

"What grade are you in?" She wondered, pulling out two plates from the cabinet.

"Ninth," I told her.

"Oh. They were talking about bumping Susie up a grade. She'd be in the same grade." She told me with a smile. I just nodded, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I didn't know what I was supposed to be saying. I didn't keep people company, especially not grown-ups. My own mom had never wanted my company...I didn't understand why Two-Bit's mom would. That thought brought the dream back and I prayed I wouldn't start crying, not in front of this nice stranger who was giving me a place to sleep.

She was quiet for a moment, then placed a pile of toast in the middle of the table, all of it hot and covered in butter. There were four slices...she placed a plate with two slices at the other side of the table, taking a seat across from me. I just stared at the food...toast had been one of the first things I'd learned to make. Toast. Sandwiches. Hot dogs. My stomach growled and my eyes got hot as I stared at the table. I didn't get it. Why? Were all adults cruel just by nature? Or was it me? Did I bring it out in people?

Mrs. Matthews ate without looking at me for a minute, gazing out the window, the moon making her face pale. My hands itched to take the food but I didn't dare. My grandfather had played this game before. Put food on the table and eat it in front of you. My eyes started to water and I hated myself for acting like a baby. I sniffed a little and wiped at my eyes, and then she looked up at me.

I don't know how she guessed it but she did. Immediately. "No one here would do that to you." She told me softly, putting down her bread and sounding heartbroken. I blinked, confused. "Put food on the table that you're not allowed to eat. Not me, not Keith…heck, none of those boys. They're good kids, all of them, and they'd share just about anything they had with you." I smiled a little, staring at the table as I thought about someone calling Dallas the tough blond hood a 'good boy.' I wondered for a moment how he'd react if I tried it, figuring I'd probably lose a tooth. She laughed at the look I was giving her table. "Okay, so some of them are a little rough around the edges, but they look out for their friends." She amended. "Go ahead and eat the toast, Ponyboy. No one's gonna take it away from you. I made it for you."

"Thank you," I mumbled, nibbling at the first piece of toast, kind of embarrassed but more hungry than anything. Then I ate the second, and by the third, I was practically inhaling it. She stood up, then put a glass of milk in front of me, her hand resting briefly on my head in a way that reminded me of Darrel. He did that a lot when he walked by...it wasn't bad or nothing. It was kind of nice...to have someone touch you without hurting you.

"How long have you lived with your uncle?" She wondered, sitting back down. I took a swallow of the milk, surprised to realize I was almost full.

"Um...a couple of years."

"Oh. Who did you live with before?"

"My grandfather."

"And your parents?" She asked.

"My dad left when I was really little...then my mom killed herself." I don't know what made me say it so bluntly. Guess I was just tired. Everyone at my old school had already known. It had never been much of a secret. Once my uncle had been mad because I'd...honestly I couldn't remember what I'd done. But he'd told me that my mom had killed herself to get away from me, and no matter how much I told myself it wasn't true, I was always waiting for someone else to make the connection.

She blinked, eyes wide, then reached out and touched the hand that was on the table. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She murmured, patting the back of my hand. I fought the urge to pull away, telling myself that she wasn't gonna hurt me. Even if she did, I could always run. "That's awful…" She shook her head, looking down at her table for a moment. Uncomfortable, I grabbed my plate and took it to the sink, washing it, then taking hers and washing it, just glad to be doing something other than sitting at a table and hearing her tell me how sorry she was. She thanked me softly, staying where she was in her chair.

I stood in front of the sink for a moment, staring down at the silver basin again. Now that I wasn't hungry anymore, I was starting to get sleepy. I heard her move behind me and turned around when she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Go ahead and get some sleep, Ponyboy. I have to go out in morning, and Keith and Susie need to go to school, but you can stay here as long as you want."

"Thank you, Mrs. Matthews." I murmured, then headed back to the couch where I fell asleep instantly, dreaming once more about my mother. But this time, she sat across from me and took my hand. I woke up crying in the pillow, blinking and wiping my eyes as I stared at the back of the couch. It wasn't fair. I knew that…had for a long time. But it hit me again as I cried into a pillow for the second time in a few hours. It wasn't fair that my mom hadn't wanted me…that no one did. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve it…I'd just been a kid!

Wiping my eyes and closing them again, I forced myself to stop thinking about it before I went crazy. Life wasn't fair. I sure knew that by now. And things were better here than they had been in Kansas. People didn't know me. There were people next door who were nice. Heck, there were people here who'd let me sleep on their sofa even though I was a stranger. So maybe things would be better. It was stupid to hope, but it was a trap I fell into every time. Counting sheep had never worked for me, so I thought about the guys who lived next door to me, wondering what it would be like to have a good family like that until I finally fell asleep again.

"Come on, Keith! We're gonna be late." I jerked awake, yanked from a dreamless sleep and felt a tiny rush of irritation. Susie was a nice girl, but she was awful loud. Hours of interrupted sleep had done me good, but I was still tired for some reason.

"Hush, will ya? Ponyboy's still asleep." Her brother hissed. I wasn't, but my self-preservation told me to pretend to be, so I did, keeping my ears open.

"Keith…" The girl whined a little, this time quietly. Finally, she sighed, and I heard her footsteps come closer. I stayed still, fighting to keep my breathing even and feeling like an animal in the zoo or something, being stared at. "Is he gonna be okay?" She asked then, more serious, and I heard Two-Bit's voice a little closer.

"Sure he will." He murmured, and a hand touched my head, pushing some hair back out of my face. "Now come on. We're gonna be late." There was a grin in his voice and I heard her incredulous rebuttal as they headed outside, the door shutting softly behind them.

As soon as the car pulled out of the driveway, I sat up, rubbing my eyes and stretching, immediately spotting the bottle of aspirin and the banana on the coffee table next to a bottle of soda. Grinning, I swallowed the aspirin and scarfed down the banana. Then I used the bathroom, wishing I could take a shower but knowing I needed to go home to do that. Figuring my uncle would be gone by then, I left the Matthews' house, shutting the door gently behind me, then headed down the street.

It had been nice staying with friendly people, but I sure wasn't gonna let myself get used to it. I felt better, and now I could go back to taking care of myself. If I was gonna keep away from the house, I'd need a few things. Like a change of clothes. And maybe a blanket. There was probably a throw blanket I could use somewhere. I could sleep in the lot and stop bugging these people. I'd be fine with a blanket and some food for a day or two, and I could sneak in during the day like before. It would be fine. And eventually, my uncle would ease up on the drinking for a little while and then things would go back to normal. For a while.

The driveway was empty, so I hurried inside, sparing a glance at the house next door. No one seemed to be home, so I gave that thought up, practically sprinting inside. Even if they had been, they'd done enough for me. I didn't need to start relying on other people to keep me safe from my uncle. Sure it was nice, but they had their own lives to live and no way they'd want to take in some strange kid from next door. So why did my mind keep on going back to them?

Realizing that my uncle was most likely at work and that I had the rest of the day free of him, I grabbed a change of clothes and jumped in the shower. I hated being dirty and wearing old, gross clothes, which was part of why I hated it when my uncle was on one of his benders. As I soaped up my hair, I wondered if I'd have time to do a load of laundry. I wasn't sure what time he was supposed to be home. Maybe he'd stay out late and I could spend the day inside.

When I'd spent almost a half hour getting cleaned up, I dried off and dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt, looking at my face in the mirror real good for the first time. My eyes were both pretty bruised, but the ice pack had taken care of the swelling. My nose was a little crooked and bruised too, but not as bad as I'd thought. I looked like I'd taken a couple of punches to the face, but I'd looked worse, so I wasn't worried. I brushed my teeth real good then, washing my mouth out and swallowing some more water, figuring I'd grab whatever cereal was left for breakfast. I'd need to go to the grocery soon, but that involved swiping money from Aaron, which was always dangerous. I made sure to buy beer when I did it, which kept me safe usually, but I dreaded the day he decided to get mad about it.

I was on my way to my bedroom, arms full of laundry to dump in my hamper, when I caught sight of the man I didn't recognize sitting on our sofa in the living room, his feet propped on the coffee table, reading the newspaper.

Thank you for reading!