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X. He and Three

*

Darry is paged over the intercom. He tells the roofers he'll be right back and leaves the hotness of outside for the cool confines of his office. Inside, sit Two-Bit and Ponyboy. Pony tries to keep the smile of his face. I watch his hands shake from excitement. He can't believe what he just got away with.

Two-Bit twists around as Darry enters. "Darry," he says. "We got a problem." Two-Bit's getting wise. It's one thing to keep quiet about a fever, another to button your trap when your best friends' little brother has just been threatened by a lunatic.

Or so, that's how Two-Bit sees it.

"I told you guys." Darry says. He slams his hand down on his desk. Pony sits there, unconcerned; thinking about how cool it is that his oldest brother now has a desk, a nameplate to match and no more sore muscles.

"I told you it would lead to trouble. Didn't I? I told ya'll and Tim not to mess with Skelter." Darry's broad jaw twitches. "I'm gonna brain Sodapop."

Halfway across the room, I can feel him. His heart's pumping fast. "What about you?" He stares at his brother, who looks a bit too thin and small for his age. Darry knows he can fight but he also knows there's always someone bigger and stronger. At least the kid can run.

Darry's cool façade an act; his worry seeps into me.

My goddamn baby brother, he's thinking. And I wonder where he gets this intensity.

"Why didn't you just keep your mouth shut?"

Pony chews on his nail. "I don't know."

"It was stupid."

"I know."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay."

"Okay." Darry says this like he's memorizing it. "I'll talk to Tim. You both go home."

*

I stay behind to listen to Darry.

"Hey Tim? It's Darry. I'm calling—You heard?" Darry shuffles some papers on his desk, trying to focus. "Well, look…I don't care what you do, but when it involves my brothers…" He pauses a moment, listening.

Darry exhales. "I know. But Skelter? He ain't gonna fight fair no matter how it shakes out…Okay. Yeah, sure. Let me know." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Thanks, Tim."

The phone's hung up with a click.

*

"You're in trouble," I tell Sodapop when he and Steve arrive home.

"Shit, kid, are you sure it's not the other way around?" Steve opens the fridge, searching for a beer.

"What'd I do?" Soda asks, confused. Compared to me, Soda's a saint.

Two-Bit throws me the pasta and I dump it in the boiling water. I hold my hands out to catch Two-Bit's incoming spoon. It nearly beans me in the face but I catch it, eyes narrowing. "Nice throw." I begin stirring the stroganoff that's boiling on the stove.

"Payback." Two-Bit raises a gleeful eyebrow, turning to Soda and Steve. "So, you two want to hear a story? Today we had a run in with one of our favorite, dear old friends."

"It's your fault," I tell Two-Bit with a wry grin. I look at Steve. "All of yours."

"Oh, I don't think so." Two-Bit grabs my shoulder, spinning me in front of Steve and Soda like I'm on display. "Picture this…your young brother and I taking a stroll downtown, smelling the flowers, skipping down the street—"

"Stealing snow cones," I interject.

"Pony, that's neither here nor there." Two-Bit makes a grand gesture in the air. "All of a sudden, we come upon… Holt Skelter." By the look on his face, it's here, that Soda knows he's in deep shit with Darry.

Two-Bit continues. "A few words are exchanged, witty remarks tossed about…and soon, by golly, he recognizes this one…as Soda's younger, but just-as-good-looking, brother."

I roll my eyes and go back to stirring the sauce.

"So, Skelter issues a few threats and leaves us be. But then…this one…" Two-Bit wags a finger. "This one opens his mouth."

Steve's smiling. "What'd you say?"

"The kid called Skelter… chickenshit. Chicken. Shit."

"Oh. Oh, no," Soda says.

"So then what happened?" Steve presses.

"Oh that?" Two-Bit snaps and I know he's still annoyed with me for how it ended. "Skelter shoved Pony in the middle of Fisher Avenue. Kid nearly missed getting flattened by a Chevy."

"If you ask me," I say, feeling cocky. "Skelter's passive aggressive."

Soda's shaking his head. "Not funny, Pone. Not funny at all." Soda pulls out a chair and sits down. He props his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand.

"I'm laughing," Steve says, smirking.

*

Weeks fly by. July turns to August and I haven't heard from Everett. I think he's lurking around but can't be sure.

Then one night I dream of Everett. He brings it to me. It's the worst dream yet; because he's in it.

*

He's talking to his friends. The young one and the angry one. Pony's escaped me…Dallas won't.

Johnny's held on a long while, fighting. But when his friend's enter, the energy goes out of him. He's releasing, giving himself up. I walk around the bed, skirting Ponyboy.

"…fighting's no good…"

I take my hat off. Johnny whispers to Ponyboy Curtis about "staying gold". I touch Johnny's shoulder, taking his breath. His dark eyes close forever. The friends stand there a beat. Pony's confused, Dally swearing up a storm. Then Dallas punches the wall and runs out. Ponyboy stays a moment more. He wipes at his eyes and leaves.

"That was...easier than expected."

The voice startles me.

"I'm glad you feel that way. It's much harder for others."

"I think I was ready." Johnny nods. "I know I was. Will he be okay?"

I set the hat back on my head. "Eventually," I tell Johnny, unsure of which boy he means. "You'll be okay if that matters."

"It used to. Now it doesn't." Johnny's sitting on his bed, legs crossed, arms propped behind him. He takes a breath and looks at the ceiling. "I hope they know…it worked out for the best."

"That's important."

His eyes are so black. "Yes. It is."

*

"Dar."

He opens his eyes. "Pony, what is it?"

"Nightmare." I sit beside him on the couch, rubbing my chest. My bones ache; I don't know why I feel so bad. "Can I stay up with you?" I ask feeling like a 15-year old loser.

"Of course you can kiddo." Darry stifles a yawn, scooting over to give me more room. The TV is playing a black and white movie of The Blob. I settle beside him and Darry wraps an arm around me. It strikes me as strange that a year ago I wanted nothing to do with him, that I considered him my worst enemy and I his. Now, I can't imagine Darry as unfeeling. He feels…he just shows it when he's ready, unlike me, an open book.

I'm about to say something when my breath catches. I begin rubbing the tightening in my chest.

"You okay?"

"My chest hurts."

"I told you to knock it off with the smokes."

"I know. It's just hard."

"I know."

I lean into his side, hearing his heartbeat through his t-shirt.

"What'd you dream about?"

"I don't remember."

"You always say that."

*

"That wasn't much," Iris says.

"It was enough."

"I suppose." Iris pauses from her game of croquet. "Although a smart comeback isn't very death-defying." She smacks her ball with the mallet. I stop it with my foot before it can make its way through the hoop.

"Then give me a freebie."

"I shouldn't, Everett."

"It doesn't matter," I tell her. "He'd live anyway."

Iris loves games. In that way, she's easy to goad. Her smile lights up her face; her cheeks round apples. "Will he?" She raises her mallet. "He's sick. You're not helping him."

"You're wrong."

"Very well." Touching the air beside her, she pulls a slender piece of paper from the nothingness. Then, she pulls two more out.

I'm impressed.

"Here are three of them. Consider it a favor."

Iris blows me a kiss.

*

No one's around. Pony tidying up the house. He's been lazy these last few days; enjoying my absence, wasting the last few weeks of freedom before school starts.

I slink through the door, go through the usual motions of removing my hat and then touch his shoulder. His eyes widen and roll back. He crumples.

*

"Something better?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yes…" I struggle to explain. "Something else…risky."

"Like what? Drink a bottle of arsenic?"

I nod. "You could. Although I'm quite sure that would land you in the hospital."

He's sitting with his feet drawn up on the couch and his hands touching the top of his head. Pony peers out at me through his arms. "Won't anything I do pretty much land me there?"

I reach out, grabbing his arm. "You just can't get caught."

"Good point." He looks at me and laughs. "This is crazy." He's beginning to fade.

I hold up three fingers. "You get three of them."

"See ya, Everett."

"Goodbye, Ponyboy."

*

A new neighbor moves in down the street. The moving truck is parked in front of the house. The man and his wife are unloading boxes of all sizes. I'm on my way to meet Soda at the DX but figure I can give them a hand. Maybe a couch will fall on me, saving me the trouble of attempting Everett's stunts.

"Need some help, sir?"

The man blinks into the sun, straightening up. "Sure could." His wife looks relieved.

"I'll make some lemonade," she says, scooting off.

"We're neighbors," I tell the man. I pick up a box. "Ponyboy Curtis."

The guy smiles. "Chris Meigs." He's in his early 40's, wearing chinos and a Hawaiian shirt. His hair is longer than most, shaggy brown hair that hits below his ears.

"Where're you from?"

"Back East. Maine." He grunts, hauling a large mirror out of the truck. "Transferred here from St. Mary's hospital."

"You're a doctor?" What I really want to add is And you're living in this neighborhood?

Chris laughs, reading my mind. "It's not so bad here. We liked the house. Wendy, she does that, fixes them up." He glances at his wife who's bringing out the lemonade. She's smart-looking, with glasses and long brown hair. Flustered, she balances the tray of drinks while kicking away an empty cardboard box resting on the lawn with her heel. Her mouth forms a curse.

"Word of advice," Chris says. "Don't call her ma'am."

*

I have fun with Everett's urgings. I want to get them over with; get him gone.

I take Pat's dirt bike out for a ride, claiming I'm an expert when in fact I've never been on one before. I end up peeling out and slamming into a tree. I fly off, scraping my right side up. Luckily, the bike's unscathed. "You know," Pat says, "You're a lot of fun. You keep hitting things but end up bouncing right back up."

"I should take it on the road."

He laughs. "I'll remember that."

The next time it backfires. I'm sitting on the edge of the bathroom tub, holding a bottle of aspirin, seriously contemplating swallowing the bottle.

But I chicken out. I'm not that stupid.

I don't even have to try the second second time. I'm meeting Darry for lunch at one of his construction sites. Missing the sign that says "Keep Off", I stride right over a layer of beams covering a hole in the earth. Apparently, the owner's of the house were building a pool.

I fall through the wooden beams, gravity pulling me down about five feet. Then three of Darry's coworkers – I recognize two of them from the baseball game – are staring at me.

"Kid you okay?"

I cover my eyes, mortified.

"Hey!" Mac exclaims. "That's—"

"Shut up," I tell him, scrambling to my feet to prove I'm okay. "Don't tell Darry. Just get me out of here." They begin laughing, big burly chuckles that shake the earth. But they get me out of the hole without my brother knowing, expressing disbelief that nothing's broken.

When Darry sees me, covered in dirt, he asks when I've last showered.

*

"What'd you think it would have been like if we met in another life?" Fate asks. She's in one of her romantic moods; watching down on her favorite couples, lovers. We're meeting more often, talking about our jobs, comparing stories. We shouldn't but we do.

Her long glassy black hair hides the side of her right face. She looks like a shadow in waiting.

"We'd marry," I answer, sensibly. "It would be good for about three months or so and then we'd kill each other."

Fate's laugh is a tinkle. "Well, it's a good thing you're already dead and that I'm invincible."

"You always were humble, Iris."

*

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