Chapter 25. Hinton owns. Thanks Dee!

"Hi Ponyboy."

I craned my neck to see who had called out my name, and saw a shock of red hair as a girl strode up next me. "Oh. Cherry. Hi."

She twinkled her fingers in that dumb way girls do as a substitute for a wave. She smiled up at me, and I was almost dazzled again by how pretty she was. "How're you? How's school?"

"Good. And good," I chimed in. "How about you?" It was uncomfortable talking to her like this - we had talked with each other so well that night at the Nightly Double. It was strange ... how much could change in a year.

"Oh, really good." She bobbed her head.

"Hmm. So ... what do you need?" I asked, maybe a little too sharply. I was remembering all the times she had blown me off last year.

"Ponyboy ... " she trailed off, putting her hand on my shoulder. I had gotten taller than her in the course of the year. "I wish we could've been friends last year - I wanted to so badly, every time I saw you in the hallway, I ... " she blurted out, her face turning crimson. "I just felt awful. I have no excuse - I was terrible, but I didn't think you minded. I mean ... you're such a popular kid, everyone likes you - "

"Yeah," I snorted. "Real popular. Cherry, I'm popular for something I wish never happened in the first place. I'd give this all up to have my friends here - and even for you to have Bob again." She bit her lip. "I think about it all the time. I do mind. I would've liked having someone who understood it a little."

She looked close to tears now, and I felt awful all over again. "Pony - I'm so sorry!" she blubbered. "I wish I could go back now. I feel so bad. I really do."

"Hey, hey." I patted her shoulder. "Don't worry about it, okay?" I grinned weakly. "I'm alright now - don't get so upset. I'm fine. Really."

She smiled, still looking teary-eyed. "I still feel bad. I wish I was there for you - especially since Randy joined the Flower Child brigade and - "

I stopped listening to her then, suddenly realizing something. Randy was one of these "flower children." I wasn't sure how close together these communes were - I didn't even know where he was. But Cherry might. I remembered what Two-Bit had said, "Only way you're getting there is if you're pushing or using ... "

Randy was a hippy. Randy might be able to find M&M.

"Ponyboy ... ?" Cherry asked cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"Cherry," I said seriously. "This might sound strange, but I need to ask you a favor ... "

~/~

As it turned out, Cherry didn't ask too many questions when I asked her where I could find Randy.

"I'm sorry, Ponyboy - a few weeks ago, I had no idea where he was. We only kept in contact very seldom. I know that he travelled a lot in his old van nowadays - something about California?" I felt my heart sink. There went that idea; and how did I know that Randy wasn't completely insane by now anyway? "But I know where he hangs out," she finished quickly.

"You do? Cherry, this is really important - "

"I know." She smiled. "You wouldn't be asking me if it wasn't. Okay, here's what I know ...

"He's usually downtown nowadays - closer to the south side. He hangs out ... well, do you know where the old industrial park is, on Morrison?" I shook my head. "It's near the hosptial - about ten minutes away, close to the bowling alley I think - "

"Oh! Yeah, I know of that place." I nodded.

"Well, I know he's there a lot. In fact, he might even be at home." I blinked at her, shocked. His parents were okay with that?

Cherry rubbed her arms. "I'd try both places. If not, I'm sorry. I don't know."

"Thank-you, Cherry," I said gratefully. "Really."

"Good luck. I hope you find what you're looking for, Pony."

~/~

I knew I had a problem the minute that I got to the old industrial park. Downtown was pretty far away from Will Rogers so I cut last period so I could get home before dark. Downtown was in the south, and was a sleazier part of town - so it was closer to my neighborhood, but farther from the school. It was a long walk, but Cherry was right. It was easy to find - all I had to do was ask people where I could find Morrison and I just kept walking until I found a mass of brightly colored vans and buses.

This was going to be a problem.

I groaned, completely fed up with this whole investigation. Why did I care so much, anyway? Wasn't I just trying to prove something - that a complete stranger could still care about the well-being of one lost kid? I wanted to prove them all wrong - my brother, Two-Bit, and even Mark. I sat down on the curb, downhearted. But where was I even going to start?

"Hey there, kid - why so down?" I looked up to see a huge blonde hippy towering over me. I froze, almost expecting him to whip out a blade and proceed to jumping me. 'Need a haircut, greaser?'

"Uh ... " I stammered. "I'm lookin' for someone."

The hippy gave me this dazed grin, and I knew he was completely out of it. "Oh, yeaah? Who?"

I sighed. "Randy? Adderson?"

He shook his head. "Nup, dun know him. Maybe my buddies do though. Hey - buddy!" he yelped out to some other guy. This one seemed more sharp, and he nodded to the blonde one.

"Yeah?"

"You know an Adderson 'round here?"

He paused, scrunching up his nose. He came over to us, and I could see his eyes were bloodshot, but he mainly looked tired. "Yeah, I know him. Who wants to know?"

He jerked his thumb to me. "This kid."

"Ponyboy Curtis - I'm a friend of his." The blonde one perked up when I talked.

"Wow, awesome name kid." He smiled. The other one nodded, looking somber.

"I could take you to him - he ain't doin' too well, though."

I followed him, anxious for what we would find.

~/~

"Hey, Rand - friend of yours is here?" I heard mumbling as the guy stuck his head into a van, "No, says his name's Ponyboy? Yeah. Okay." He turned to me. "Said no."

"No? Who does he think he is, the goddamn president? Let me in - I don't need no appointment to see him," I growled. I almost wish I had my switch with me - he didn't seem like the type to get scared into submission. He still shook his head.

"No."

"That's bull." I pushed past him, and pounded on the door - the other guy grabbed my other arm. "Randy! Please - I need to ask you something. Please, man - you're my last hope." I might've been laying it on thick, but I was praying to God that he'd open the door soon.

It opened an inch. "Alright. Fine. Come in then, kid."

I wrenched my arm away from the guy and made my way inside.

I was hit by the smell before I had even set foot inside. It was this sickening combination of pot, rotting food, and just odors from living in such a dirty place. I looked around - the van seemed bigger from the outside, and there was barely enough room to walk around in. I looked at Randy, and almost fell over in shock.

The last time I had seen him, he had been well-groomed with a semi-Beatle haircut, sharp clothes and a tough, impassive aura. Now he just looked disheveled. His clothes hung loosely off of his thin frame, his hair had grown to his shoulders and sat in frazzled, tangled clumps - worst of all was his face. He looked about fifteen years older - his face was greasy and sagging, his skin had an unhealthy tinge to it. "Randy?" I asked, and sat down on a pile of newspapers that went back to the summer.

He nodded. "Hey, kid," he croaked. He sat down across from me.

"Randy. Oh, man ... " I shook my head. "What happened?"

He grunted, looking down at the floor. He went up to rub his beard, and shook his head. "Hell if I remember - everything's shot. Everything's gone."

"Randy, you need help." This suddenly wasn't about M&M anymore - but helping a guy who, less than a year ago, I had ended on good terms with. "I mean - "

"Look," he snapped. His dark eyes bore into mine, and suddenly they were cold and defensive again, like he'd come back to life. "You here to lecture me? If you are, then get out - I didn't let you in to get told off."

"No." I stopped. "I'm sorry. I just - I need help."

He laughed humorlessly, and began walking around the van, picking bottles up off one place and throwing them down onto another pile in the corner. "I thought it'd be better ... " he started slowly, more to himself than to me. "It started off great - I just stopped caring so much about the feuding classes after Bob ... " He stopped. "And then there came a new bunch of people who were thinkin' like me. Socs even. I thought we were going to change things." He looked down at the bottle in his hand. "But then we didn't."

"Randy, what're you ... ?"

"I never wanted this," he whispered, looking straight at me. His eyes were so sad and dejected that I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "At first I did, but now I don't. My folks'll never take me back, I've destroyed everything. My whole life. It's just gone."

I didn't know what to say. He seemed to be having a moment. I waited. "I'd see you sometimes in the hall, you know," he whispered, looking at me almost with venom. "And Cherry. I saw her too. I remember how bad off you were that day in the car - I thought it was normal for me to not want to get over it. But then you did get over it - you started becoming Mr. Popularity. Everyone started looking up to you - you became the hero, your friends ... that Cade kid? And Winston? They both became heroes too." He shook his head, his eyes like glittering rocks. "But not Bobby," he croaked out. "Nup. All people seemed to remember of him was that spoiled rich kid who got what was coming to him - I wanted to change how people saw us rich kids; but I didn't want this."

I felt dazed. There he was talking again about people looking up to me - was that really true? Did Johnny and Dallas get glorified as heroes? Johnny might've, but surely Dallas wasn't remembered like that. And then I remembered the newspaper article talking of how Dally pulled Johnny out of the building - there was no article talking of Bob being brave; he was just the victim. And later when we testified against him, he became the bad guy. I looked at Randy. "Randy, I'm sorry about that. About everything."

He said nothing.

"But I need your help - there's this kid. Do you know him? His name's M&M Carlson - he's gone, and I think he's somewhere around here. Ask your friends, see if they now - Randy, please."

He sat down on the floor against a window, and began rubbing peace signs on the glass from the condensation that had collected there. "If he's around here, then you don't want to find him. Kid's probably better off not being found - you can't find all them lost kids. There's too many of us now - too many."

"Randy ... please," I pleaded. "People keep telling me that - there's no point in helping him. But there is a point; there's a huge point."

"Oh, yeah? What?"

"I - " I couldn't think of one. Was it really worth it?

"Hey, Ponyboy. Do you remember that time we were in the car and you told me 'bout saving those kids in the fire?" I nodded, not reminding him that he had already talked about the day in his car. "Remember how you said it's the individual - not about being a greaser or a Soc?"

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't have saved them. I would've let them burn." He sighed, and crumpled on the floor.

"It's getting dark - you should leave."

~/~

I was running.

Soda always said that I was a good runner because I kept emotions so well hidden - that only when I started running, did I let all of that extra energy explode. I remember thinking what a load of baloney that was, but he kept insisting that's what it was. Then during one track meeting last spring, I thought again of what Sodapop had told me. As soon as that gun went off, I wasn't thinking too straight about the race - I was thinking of all the different things that had happened to me. Johnny and Dallas. Mom and Dad. Darry and me.

Before I knew it, I had crossed the finish line, getting second place. Now, that might not sound like a good placing for someone who's supposed to be an sort of prodigy in running, but the truth was that I hadn't even been placing just months before - and this was against one of the harder teams in Tulsa. Coach was shocked - how had I done it? I only shrugged and gave Sodapop a grin. He grinned back, but I don't think he'd ever know how much he had helped me.

That's what I was thinking of as I ran all the way back to the east side - I was angry at Randy, angry at Darry and Two-Bit even Mark - I was just pretty mad overall. Now I wasn't even doing it for the kid - I just had to prove them wrong. I thought of Sodapop, and almost wished he was here so he could knock some sense into me. But I didn't stop.

I knew which house it was from the last time I had been over. It was more than a year ago, and I had only gone because Dally wanted to swing by, and Johnny was going with him. I knocked on the door, panting by that point. I was on my knees by then, and I only heard a gasp come from the doorway. Just my luck ...

"Ponyboy?" Angela Shepard. I looked up, still leaning on my knees, and she glared at me. "What do you want?"

"I need ... to see your ... brother." I leaned against the door frame, accidentally brushing her hand with mine. She recoiled, and pouted.

"Why should I?"

"Angela!" I snapped. "I don't want to waste the energy bein' mad at you - what's done is done, and I'm staying out of it, okay? But I need your brother. I need to see Curly."

She fingered her short black hair, and pursed her lips. "I'm not even sure if he's home or not ... "

I stopped, and tried a different approach. "Well, could you check?" I asked her politely, now standing up. I smiled. "Did you get a haircut or somethin'? It looks nice."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, please. Like I haven't seen that trick before," she laughed as she was turning around to go back inside. She held the door open and screeched out, "Curly! Get your ass out here!" She looked back at me, looking unfazed. "He'll be out in a minute. Maybe."

"Thanks, Angela." I nodded, smiling again. She rolled her eyes at me. Well, so much for her soft spot on me. Curly came out to the living room, shooting daggers at Angela with his eyes.

"What?"

She jerked her head in my direction. "Play nice, boys." She shoved Curly out the door, and closed it.

"What do you want, man?" He cocked his eyebrow.

"Okay fine," I said quickly. "I trust you, Curly. Help me find him. Help me find that Carlson kid."