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Chapter 14: Not My Home

The stale air seemed to adhere to my skin as I lazily ambled about the lonely street. I should have been moving faster, but I simply could not motivate my legs. If I hadn't learned that walking anywhere alone was foolish and dangerous from my several beatings by now, I'd say I was hopeless. Or I simply failed to care. I was tired of how the way the world seemed to dysfunctional work. I was tired of watching my friends die, my family suffer. I was just plain tired. I was also tired of being babysat by a boy who could barely look after his own self. I wondered if Two-Bit had even realized I had continued walking when he stopped to swoon a couple of broads about a block back. I hadn't the time or the interest in pit stops, even ones that included two gorgeous blondes. I swatted at a fly aimlessly and squinted up at the piercing sun. It felt like a spotlight, following me wherever I went, its heat bearing down on me full force like a gang of Socs.

"Hey!"

I failed to stop at the boisterous and familiar voice. The logical senses in me would have instructed me to keep walking, head looking straight forward to avoid a confrontation with a possible attacking Soc. The other part of me recognized the wail and simply was disinterested in the whims of this particular person and his enforced duty to watch over me.

"Pony! Wait on up, will ya!"

Two-Bit broke into a jog and met me at my side.

"Where do you think you're going without me?"

"Home."

"Not alone, you ain't."

"I wouldn't be alone if somebody didn't stop and talk to every girl that we passed by."

I couldn't help but slip a chuckle in at the end of my lecturing sentence. As much as Two-Bit's behavior annoyed me sometimes, no one could truly stay mad at him and his ridiculous antics for long.

"Well hey now, I didn't know you stopped liking girls and turned to the other side of life –"

"Cut it out."

"Hey, kid, I am your babysitter, you should show some respect."

With that, I turned and tackled him to the grass. We rolled in the dirt for quite some time, trading blows and laughs until a small sound perked both our ears up. We both froze and slowly untangled ourselves from one another, stumbling to a standing position. The soft noise continued as we tiptoed in its faint direction. I took the lead and brought us around the corner and into a narrow alleyway. I think neither of us was able to move for a moment as we spotted the small figure. His shoulders rocked jaggedly with each muffled sob. His hair was tousled and his clothing was wrinkled and torn. A violet shaded design decorated his cheek, swelling like an overinflated balloon. It wasn't the only discoloring covering his skin. A thick and plum ring of bruising existed around the boy's small wrist. This wound was far darker than the one that covered his cheek. I had seen a lot of bruises and cuts and all sorts of things, but he was just a kid, a helpless kid. A lot of greasers wore their injuries proud. If Steve came over with a busted up face from a fight, he would be cross, but still carry an arrogant sense about him. Darryl would take a fist to the face and hardly flinch. Dally didn't so much as blink after getting cut up in a rumble. Yet when Johnny got jumped and tore up real bad, everything was different. When I got beat up, there was no laughing or tough guy talk. When Danny got attacked, no one was slapping high fives. Now, here was this kid sitting on the cold ground, crying and bleeding, helpless. Somehow, it was all just different.

Two-Bit bit off a curse as I knelt down towards the huddled boy. Noticing us for the fist time, the boy suddenly dug his face into his shoulder and forcibly choked back remaining tears. His small body was quivering, although I could tell he was trying terribly hard to stop it from doing so. I leaned in closer to him and spoke his name in a soft voice.

"Go away."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he sniffled and feigned a tough guy voice.

"Who did this to you?"

When he neglected to answer, Two-Bit crouched down too.

"Kids at school?" He prompted.

The small figure shook his head rapidly.

"Someone jump you?" Two-Bit prodded again.

Still, the boy shook his head violently.

"Did this –" I started, but found the words tangling with reluctance in my throat. "Did this happen – at home?"

It took a moment for the boy to respond in any form. Finally, he rose his face out from burial and locked his frightened eyes with mine. He attempted to appear brave, but his gaze said it all.

"That's not my home." He snapped coldly.

His harsh reaction gave me the answer I dreaded and all I could manage to do was breath out a heavy sigh. Bruises from home are a lot worse than war wounds from rumbles or getting jumped. All of us knew that. It didn't matter if you got your nose broke in a street fight and the other guy just got slapped across the face by his father. It was still worse.

I reached out hesitantly to get a better look at his wrist. The moment my fingers touched it, he reeled back in fear and pain. As he did so, he yelped out in agony at the movement of the aching injury.

"That looks pretty bad, Two-Bit," I nodded at the kid's arm. "Might be broken."

"Since when did you become a doctor, kid?" Two-Bit nudged me in the shoulder and waited for a response from the boy; a laugh, a smile, anything.

The boy hardly noticed him.

"We should get him to the hospital," I urged.

Before I even finished my sentence, the boy shot up feverishly and took several steps back and away from us.

"No! Just, go away! Leave me alone!"

Without another word, he turned and sprinted off. I could hear his sobs start up again as he began to run and entertained the thought of chasing him down. Then I remembered the rules of the world. Things were never that easy. If he didn't want help, he wasn't going to take any and there was no convincing him. I simply shoved my hands in my pockets and traded a nervous glance with my friend.