A/N Behold! She emerges from the graduate school caverns of doom! No, I'm not dead, nor have I abandoned this story. I have had the worst semester of my life. But it's over, except for the grading, so here is the next chapter, which I have literally been writing for months. Thank you so much all of you who reviewed, and I'd like to especially thank those of you who nominated and voted for this story during the Wrong Side of the Tracks Awards a while back. It was very flattering to have my story put forward! I hope you enjoy the chapter, and thanks for sticking with me through my academic purgatory!

Chapter 10

"Pony?" Darry's worried voice asked, and I realized that I had been standing in Mr. Warden's doorway, staring like some kind of halfwit. I jumped forward and threw my arms around my brother, and felt his arms close about me in return. He felt even solider than I remembered, and feeling his strength as he half crushed the air out of me, I wasn't surprised at all that he was there. He could do anything he set out to do. He was Superman.

"Can we go?" my own personal hero asked tightly, still keeping one arm around me.

I finally realized that Mr. Warden was in the room too, standing behind his desk and looking as though a rotten smell had crept up his nostrils. He nodded reluctantly. "The release papers are all in order. I only need your signature here." He shoved a paper across the desk, and while Darry scrawled his signature with his free hand, Mr. Warden turned a fierce gaze on me. "Curtis, I trust you will remember the things you have learned during your time here with us."

Darry's fingers biting into my shoulder kept me from blurting out all the things I really wanted to say. "Yes, sir," I muttered.

Then Darry threw down the pen and, his arm still around my shoulders, we walked out of there, just like that. I felt dazed and as though I was walking through a mist. The only thing that felt real was Darry's hand guiding me down the hall and out the front door to the little parking lot where our battered Ford sat waiting. At the moment, I think that little car was the most beautiful thing in the world to me.

We were nearly there when the passenger's front door slammed open, and Sodapop exploded out into the air. "Pony!" he shouted, and then we were both running toward each other. We collided halfway between Darry and the car, and then I was sobbing all over his t-shirt, and I don't mean the quiet kind of tears I'd been leaking out onto my pillow at night, but really bawling. Soda squeezed me tight and muttered, "It's ok, Pony, we're going home now, it's ok."

"Let's get out of here," I heard Darry say somewhere over my head, but I couldn't stop crying even as Soda gently propelled me to the car. All three of us squished into the front seat, and I had to sit kind of sideways with my legs on top of Soda's so that Darry had room to move the gearshift. It was uncomfortable, but I didn't care, particularly since all I did for the first half an hour was cry anyway. Gradually my sobs died down, and I became aware that Darry's hand rested lightly on the back of my head and that Soda was gently rubbing my shoulders while murmuring a soothing stream of comforting words.

At last I took a shuddering breath and wiped my face on the sleeve of that stupid blue shirt. "Sorry."

"Hey, I been doing so much of that the last week that Darry had to buy flood insurance," Soda said lightly.

We were all silent for a few minutes while my breathing returned to normal, and then I asked, "How'd you do it, Darry? How'd you get me out?"

I expected a smile and maybe even a quick chuckle over how he'd manage to pull one over on Roger Brady, but instead he dropped his hand from my head and kept his gaze on the road. "It's complicated."

I craned my neck to watch his stern profile, and then I looked back at Soda. "It was Sara," he said. "She's the one who came up with the idea."

"Sara?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, Miss Meriwether."

"Miss Meriwether?" I echoed in surprise. "Why is she involved?" And why was Soda calling her Sara?

Soda threw a glance over at Darry, and if I didn't know better I'd have said he was almost nervous. But Soda doesn't do nervous, and not with Darry especially. "It was my idea," he admitted. "I couldn't think of anything else to do. That is, except for hunting Brady down and beating him until he brought you back. But Darry didn't think that would work too well."

"Not that I didn't want to," our big brother muttered, his knuckles suddenly white on the wheel. "But once the judge made the decision, Brady didn't have the power to get you back."

"So we needed a mighty good lawyer," Soda explained. "Only, of course, that kind cost some mighty good money. We thought about mortgaging the house …"

I sat up in sudden fear. "You didn't!"

"Nope. Couldn't find a bank that would take us on, at least, not at an interest rate that wouldn't bankrupt us and send you back and me with you inside of six months. Apparently we're what in the bank business they like to call a high risk investment," Soda said haughtily, sticking his nose in the air.

I laughed, weak with relief and sank back against the seat. "But you did get a lawyer."

"Yep. Sara got him for us. She showed up at the door as soon as she got back from her trip, looking for you. I think she's got some good news about your book."

My book. I'd forgotten all about it.

Soda was still talking. "Darry was out, and she was so anxious to see you, so I … kind of told her everything. And I mean everything. I started sometime back before mom and dad died and then I kept going until I hit the end. I dunno what came over me. Just couldn't keep it in anymore, I guess."

I knew the feeling. "What did she say?"

Soda grinned. "First she got mad. I could see it happening when I said Roger Brady's name. She just sat there and her eyes got angrier and angrier, until I was just grateful it wasn't me she was mad at. The first thing she said was, 'I suppose that man can't be reasoned with,' only the way she said 'man' made it sound like fifty swear words. For a second, I thought she was going get up and march over to his house right then, but I told her me and Darry didn't figure he had any power left in the matter anyhow, so she cooled down a little bit and asked me to repeat what the social worker had said about the best way to bring you home."

Soda paused so I asked curiously, "Well, what did the social worker say?"

Darry suddenly shifted in the seat beside me, and I thought he was going to speak, but he kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut, and it was Soda who answered. "She said we had to do something that would show the way we lived was going to be more … you know …"

"Stable," Darry put in suddenly, and I was surprised at the bitterness in his voice.

Soda was looking at him with sympathy and uneasiness in his gaze, and that made me uncertain as I asked, "How could we do that?"

It was again Soda who answered. "She said it would have to be something like moving to a better part of town or having a responsible relative come and live with us. Someone who would have a real interest in looking out for us."

"But shucks, that don't do us no good. We can't afford to move and we don't have any relatives!" I protested.

"We got some now," Soda informed me. "That's why we got to bring you home. It was Sara's idea. Her Aunt Lily is going to come and live with us. She gets here tomorrow."

I stared at Soda like he'd grown a second head. "But why? I mean, I know Miss Meriwether likes me and all, but why would her aunt help us out? And how does that even help? I mean, she's not our own relative, so why would the judge think she has a real interest in us?"

"Well, uh, you see, I reckon she's real fond of Sara, and, uh …" Soda trailed off, staring at Darry.

I looked in confusion from one to the other, and then my biggest brother said quietly, "Sara and I are engaged."

It had been a day of surprises, but that one would have knocked my feet right from under me had I been standing. "Engaged?" I squeaked. "Like to be married?"

"They're not really going to get married, but they're saying they will so that the judge will believe that her Aunt Lily has a good reason to live with us," Soda hastily explained. "They'll have a real long engagement and then call it off when you turn eighteen."

I looked at Soda, and then we both looked at Darry. He wasn't saying anything, and he looked calm but there was something about the way he was being calm that made me uneasy, although I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

"What if the judge gets suspicious?" I finally asked, tilting my face back up to Soda.

"We think that as long as he's convinced you're not getting into trouble, he's got too many other real problem cases to worry about," he answered.

"And that means you stay out of trouble, Pony, all kinds, accidental or not," Darry put in sharply. "One more slipup and they will take you away for good. And that goes for you too, little buddy," he added, glancing at Soda. "You're not quite eighteen yourself."

Soda gave me a tight one-armed hug. "We'll be so good we'll put the nuns out of business," he promised.

Darry rolled his eyes, and some of the tension that had been smothering the front seat eased.

I asked "When's Aunt Lily coming?"

"Tomorrow," Darry answered. "Sara will pick her up from the train station."

"Where's she going to sleep?" I wondered.

"In mom and dad's room," he told me quietly. Soda's arm tightened around me and I heard him swallow hard. No one had slept in that room since the accident, even though it had been more than a year. If one of the guys slept over they took the couch or bunked in Soda's room, since he didn't use it. "We'll have to clean it tonight."

"We were waiting for you," Soda added, sounding kind of choked up.

I felt little eddies of sadness swirl up around me, but they didn't pull me in and try to drown me like they used to. "I guess it's time," I sighed, settling down against Soda's shoulder, sad but also glad that what was left of our family was together again.

The next thing I knew Darry was pulling the car up in front of our house. "Did I fall asleep?" I tried to ask, but I answered my own question with a yawn.

"Didn't they let you sleep in that place?" Soda asked jokingly, gingerly massaging his arm, which must have been pretty stiff after the way I leaned on it all the way home.

I grimaced, thinking of the nights I'd spent tossing and turning in worry and fear. "Not much."

The front door of the house flew open, and Two-Bit pounded down the steps. "Pony!" he shouted, grabbing me in a move that was half wrestle and half hug. "I guess they didn't torture you too bad. Looks like you still got all your fingers." He held up one of my hands and pretended to inspect it.

"Nah, they don't pull out your fingernails until you been there a whole month," I returned, slinging my arm around his shoulders. "How you been, Two-Bit?"

"All right." He grinned. "I met a cute little waitress at that diner over on Elm and Main, so I'd say things are going real well."

I glanced back at the house and saw Steve standing on the porch, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. When we got close he nodded at me. "Hi Pony."

"Hi Steve," I returned, a little uncertainly.

Then he blurted out, "Look, Pony, I can't tell you how sorry I am …"

"Heck, Steve, it wasn't your fault," I interrupted him. "I ain't mad at you." If it had been anyone but Steve, I would have said he looked relieved. Inside the house, I could just about have cried, things looked so familiar and good. Fortunately, I was distracted by a flood of marvelous smells that streamed from the kitchen.

"You guys cooked dinner?" Soda asked, disbelief coloring his voice. Neither Two-Bit nor Steve is exactly known for their talent in the kitchen.

Two-Bit puffed out his chest and affected a falsetto. "Sure did! Spent the day slaving away over the hot stove to be ready for my men when they …"

Steve smacked him on the ear. "Bite your lying tongue, Two-Bit. Sara made dinner."

A funny kind of silence suddenly descended, until Two-Bit said too loudly, "She ain't here anymore. She said she had to go to a teacher's meeting, but come in and look at what she left us!" He pushed ahead into the kitchen.

And it was worth looking at: a mountain of fried chicken, mashed potatoes heaped so high I could have stuck my arm in up to the elbow, green beans, corn pone, fresh bread, and for dessert, of course, chocolate cake.

"Golly," Soda breathed, awed.

I was suddenly so hungry I wanted to dive face first into the potatoes. "Let's eat!" I shouted, and dove for my chair like I was sliding into home plate.

It was a lot of food, but we handled it like men, so that in the end, all that was left was just enough cake for breakfast. Stuffed so full I couldn't speak, I just leaned back in my chair and groaned.

"I can tell you one thing," Two-Bit announced slowly. "If she's doing the cooking from now on, I'm going to start eating at your house."

"Two-Bit, you already eat at our house all the time," Soda pointed out.

"Well then, I guess I won't be changing my habits."

Steve made a show of looking at his watch. "I guess I'd better get going. Coming, Two-Bit?"

Two-Bit shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll …" He suddenly winced, and I guessed that Steve had kicked him under the table. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

We heard the front door close behind them, and then the three of us Curtis boys sat looking at each other for a moment. "Well, let's get to it," Darry said abruptly, pushing back from the table.

Silently, Soda and I followed him to our parents' room. I don't know if any of us had been in there much over the last year. After the accident, we'd kind of shut the door and let things be, so now as we walked in it almost seemed as if the room had been used just yesterday. Half in a daze, I watched Soda go over to the dresser and pick up the hairbrush that lay on the top. "I remember," he said slowly, "she used to like me to brush her hair for her at night, when she was tired."

I remembered that too, and a hundred other things brought back by the room. I swallowed hard and forced myself to ask, "What are we going to do with … with everything?"

"Put it in boxes in the attic for now, I guess," Darry said heavily. "Sometime we'll have to go through and decide what we want to keep."

But not tonight, I thought in relief.

I kept having to wipe my cheek on my sleeve as we went through, carefully packing things away. I caught Soda doing the same, and even Darry had to bury his face a moment in an old jacket of our father's. At last, the boxes were full and the room empty. Darry and I stuck everything up in our crawl space of an attic while Soda dusted and swept and put fresh sheets on the bed. Despite my nap on the way home, I felt exhausted as we finally shut the door behind us and collapsed on the couch. Over my head, I was vaguely aware of the rumble of Darry's voice, but I couldn't quite make out what he was saying before I slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep, the kind I hadn't had since they'd taken me away.

To Be Continued