Ponyboy wondered how Soda would look when he came back. Soldiers were beginning to come back to Tulsa now, many discharged because they had lost an arm, or a leg, or both.

Ponyboy was just glad Darry hadn't been drafted. Wouldn't be drafted, as long as Ponyboy was a minor.

What if the war lasts that long, though? Ponyboy found himself thinking. He imagined Darry, head shaved, fifty pounds of bullets, rifle and rations on his back. And maybe Ponyboy himself.

Ponyboy found that he was more worried about Darry getting drafted than he was about himself. Maybe because it just seemed so unfair—to work half your life to take care of your brothers, and then lose it for nothing.

Darry was working late that night. Ponyboy made chili and did his homework until he heard Darry burst through the screen door.

"You didn't bother to check the mail, did ya, you dope?" was Darry's greeting.

Ponyboy turned in his chair to face Darry. His older brother was grinning hugely.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ponyboy demanded.

"You didn't get the mail when it came today. And that means that I am now the proud owner of one letter from Mr. Sodapop Curtis."

Ponyboy knocked over the chair in his effort to scramble over the back of it. He landed chin-first on the kitchen floor, but this didn't deter him from jumping up and dancing around Darry, who was holding the letter high out of Ponyboy's reach.

"Wait your turn," Darry said, smirking.

"Aw, come on!" Ponyboy said. "We have to read it together."

"All right, all right, keep your shirt on."

They flopped on the couch together, making the springs shriek. Darry opened the envelope expertly with his thumb, and retrieved the letter. Both the envelope and the letter were wrinkled, as if they had been wet. Mercifully, though, the handwriting was clear.

Dear Darry and Ponyboy,

Sorry about the wrinkled paper. All my stuff got soaked through when we waded through a river the other night.

Things aren't so good here. We haven't run into any Viet Cong lately, but glory, is it scary.

Two-Bit says hello. Well, actually he says send all my love to Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. He'll never change no matter what.

I miss you both. Stay safe. I hope the war ends soon so I can come home to you both again.

Love,

Sodapop

Darry cleared his throat. He stood up suddenly, and Ponyboy knew he was trying to hold back tears. Ponyboy was, too.

"Finish your homework," Darry said gruffly, and then walked out of the room.

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Ponyboy heard about more and more people getting drafted. It was mostly the Socs at school. Curly Shepard got drafted too, and ate nothing but beets for twelve days before his examination so it would look like he had blood in his urine. He failed the medical exam, but ironically it wasn't because it looked like he was peeing blood, but because he had too much iron in his system. From eating nothing but beets.

When Ponyboy heard of Curly getting drafted, he began to worry. Curly was barely eighteen. And more and more boys were getting their draft cards every day. The government was building up more and more troops, either because this war was turning out to be much bigger than anyone had imagined, or because the government was going to make the war much bigger than anyone had imagined.

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It's been a while. I just wrote this chapter to get my feet wet again. More soon.