It's over. Sob.

SE Hinton owns these great characters that I have lovingly borrowed/tortured.

A Finish

OoO

"Nightmare?"

I jump and spin around. "Glory, you scared the hell outta me, Sodapop."

"Sorry, kiddo." He looks at me with questioning eyes. I take a quick sip from the glass of water and turn the faucet off.

The kitchen is dark, lit up in that blue light of the nighttime. "I couldn't sleep. It ain't the nightmares…it's just…I can't sleep. I lie in bed and stare at the stupid ceiling."

Soda nods. He gets it. Nights are the worse. During the day I'm busy, wear myself out so I can't think. At night that's all I do. My ceiling reminds me of a hospital room and I keep hearing Walter Wentworth's goddamn giggle.

It's been a week since St. Joe's burned. The lower floors are running, the top under construction. Luckily, Kathy still has a job. As for me, I have no idea what I'm going to do. But that's not on Darry's list of high priorities. All he's done is boss me around and make me stay home.

"It'll get better," Soda says, giving me a soft smile.

"I'm sorry I got you involved with this," I tell him. I set the glass on the counter and prop myself up with a hand. "I really am, Soda."

"Don't be," he says. "You're such a goddamned stubborn kid, Ponyboy, but you were right. You helped those boys and you solved the case. You really did it."

Soda crosses the kitchen and squeezes my arm. In the dark of the kitchen, his eyes are black. He lets out a laugh. "Just don't ever do it again, you hear me?"

OoO

A day later, Nick lugs over all our notebooks and files from the Tulsa World. He dumps them on the porch and we stare at them. "Got a match?" he asks.

OoO

We're sitting on the floor of the porch, paper strewn everywhere. A light spring breeze wafts across the neighborhood. We're going through articles, cleaning out files, dumping papers into black garbage bags, when Nick stops. "So were you serious, Curtis?"

"Serious about what?"

"About that book idea of yours? Or were you just too hopped up on drugs in the hospital to know what you were sayin?"

"Yeah, I am serious," I say slowly. "No one really knows the story. I think we could do something with it."

The Tulsa Terror story is still on the news. There's so much press coverage on TV that Darry doesn't watch the news at night. None of us can. I can't stand seeing the photos of me plastered alongside Walter Wentworth. The Tulsa World isn't as bad, so luckily Darry still has his paper. I've turned down more interviews than I can count. A few reporters had camped out at our place after we arrived home from the hospital but Liz had put an end to that pretty quick.

"What're we going to call our book?" Nick asks, a smile on his face. "The boy who burned down St. Joe's?"

"Oh that's goddamn hilarious, Nick." I roll my eyes but laugh. "So what do you really think?"

"I think I'm in, is what I think. You know, Curtis…" Nick says. "If this story didn't kill you, I don't think you're ever going to die. You got nine damn lives, man." He balls up a black and white article and dunks it in a plastic bag.

"Maybe…but I don't want to take any chances. I'm lying low for at least a year."

Nick raises a brow.

"For sure six months. Definitely three."

"Right," he snorts. "I'll believe it when I see it." Nick swivels his head and whistles. "The Big One, two o'clock."

"What's goin' on?" Darry asks, coming up the drive.

"Just plotting our next move," Nick interjects.

I hold up a hand. "A job, Darry. I need a job."

"It's been two weeks. Relax, kiddo."

"I can't. I'm bored." I shoot him a grin. "Besides, I can't keep moochin' off you and Liz."

Darry groans. "Ponyboy, I'm going to chain you to the back porch."

OoO

My brother comes to me later that night. "So you gonna let me in on what you're planning next or am I going to find out about it the hard way?" He keeps his tone light but his voice is wary, pained.

I say, "Dar, I ain't gonna do anything. I'm going to get a job and stay put."

Something like surprise crosses his face. "You're going to stay in Tulsa?" I make room and he sits on the edge of the couch.

"Sure I am. Looks like you're gonna be stuck with me for a bit." I give him a sorry smile. "Listen, I'm sure you want me to go back to school, but I—"

"I don't care about that, Ponyboy," Darry says. He shakes his head slowly. "I don't anymore. It doesn't matter. I'm just real glad you're staying here. I don't want you being away from us again."

"I don't want to be away either. I miss you guys too much."

He puts a hand on the back of my neck, his palm warm. Darry clears his throat. "I'm glad you're okay, Ponyboy. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

OoO

I'm out in the backyard, deciding to make myself useful by doing some yard work while both my brother's are at actual jobs, when a familiar car pulls up along the curb. The driver's side facing the yard, I wave at Stubs, grip the rake.

He doesn't get out, instead letting the car idle.

The passenger side door opens and there's Flora.

OoO

"Oh, Ponyboy, I'm so sorry," she says in a soft papery voice. "I was mean. I shouldn't have said what I said."

"You don't have to apologize. You were right. I was a bad friend. I should have called Marie back. Being busy wasn't an excuse."

She loops her fingers around the fence post. Her hair's long and stick-straight, a gold locket around her neck. She jams a hand into her pocket and pulls out a lollipop. She starts chewing on it.

"You aren't still sick are you?" She bites her lip. "Stubs said you were in the hospital."

"I'm better now."

Her face lights up as she smiles. "You solved it. I read about that."

"I did."

"I'm really proud of you, Ponyboy."

"Thanks." I smile at her. "How'd you get out of Cherry Hills? What're you doin here?"

Flora's brown eyes narrow. She takes the lollipop out of her mouth. "I came here to see you, dummy."

"Oh, well, I—"

She kisses me, quick and fast. It's better than Rosie's. Sweeter, too. Drawing back, she leaves grape-flavored sugary stickiness on my lips. She pops the lollipop back in.

"I checked myself out. I have to take some pills and these to help—" She upturns her pockets and about 20 lollipops land on the grass. "But my doctor says I can do it. I just have to try hard to not eat…rocks and stuff."

I laugh and she says, "So I was thinking…now that I'm here…we could hang out…"

I feel my face get hot. "Yeah, I'd really like th—"

A loud honk sounds out and we both jump. Stubs sticks his arm out of his rolled-down window. His bushy eyebrows are raised in exasperation. "Come on you two, this is worse than watching paint dry. Jesus!"

I give him the bird. Giggling, Flora buries her head against my chest.

OoO

Two-Bit's at the house as much as anyone. Today, he comes over, bags full of McDonald's burgers; I glance up from the want ads.

"How goes the search?"

I put my red pen down and groan. "I never want to make another circle again." The paper beside me is filled with half-hearted circled jobs that probably won't amount to anything.

"Never fear, I have brought the fuel that has fueled many a man." Two-Bit starts slinging burgers and sets a six-pack on the table.

I grin and lean back in my chair. "Guess what came in the mail today?"

"A baby monkey?"

"No."

"Buried treasure."

"Nope."

"A Samurai sword?"

"Close." Reaching over, I grab the pile of mail, and unearth an opened envelope. I pull out the switchblade. "The cops sent this back. Guess they don't need it for evidence anymore."

It figures they'd mail it to me. Too ashamed to face us after the debacle in the basement, especially after Darry had threatened to sue them for nearly shooting us, they've been keeping their distance. Especially now that the case is wrapped up.

Two-Bit takes it and turns it carefully over in his hands. "Best present I ever bought." He hands it back. "You keep it on you."

"Rest of my life," I say.

"Shit, kid, you had us all running scared."

"Hell, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't."

He chuckles and slaps a burger on the table. "Eat and shut up, Ponyboy."

OoO

"Hey, Pony," Liz says, waving me over to the window. She's trying not to smile. "You might want to see this…"

I go and gawk. Steve Randle is pulling my Ranchero into the driveway. There's no trace of where Walter Wentworth had rammed it with the bucket truck and in addition, it's now painted a glossy black.

"I don't believe him," I say, rolling my eyes, though I'm surprised at Steve's undertaking. "Ain't he got stuff to do at the shop with Darry?"

"He's been great," Liz says, crossing her arms. We both watch as Steve climbs out and shouts at two kids playing football across the street. "Helping you out at the hospital and now this…"

"Wait, what about the hospital?"

Her eyes get big. "I thought someone had told you….Pony, Steve was the only one who was a blood match. When you needed a transfusion, he gave it up."

I stare out the window. Steve now has the football and throws it into another yard. Scowling, the kids chase after it.

"No," I say, stunned. "No one told me." So that's what he meant at the hospital, when he said he wasn't helping me again. Why he was so pissed I was running around chasing Walter.

"Just don't tell him thank you," Liz says. "I think that's the last thing he wants."

We pull away from the window as Steve stalks inside. He stops and glances at us. "What?"

"Car looks like shit," I tell him. "What's with the color?"

"Easier on the eyes than that shitty orange thing you were driving around."

"I liked the orange."

"Yeah, well, you like a lot of stupid things." Steve throws me the keys. He smirks. "Get a job, kid."

OoO

It's been a long time since we've all done this. I think back and realize the last time we were all together in a happy situation was Two-Bit's bachelor party. It's been even longer without anything hanging over all our heads.

Sadie's is busy and rough. The jukebox pumps music. A small TV in the corner behind the bar.

Squeezing my way through the crowd, I mosey up to the bar. Behind me, everyone is playing a game of pool. I shout at the bartender, wait my turn, and then that's when I see it on TV.

"Hey," I shout. "Can you turn that up?"

"Listen, buddy, I don't know—" The bartender's eyes get wide. "Hey, you're that kid, ain't you? The one who—"

Without waiting, I pull myself up, and crawl across the bar, kicking beer bottles everywhere. Someone curses but no one stops me. I hop behind the bar. I get close to the TV and turn up the volume.

"Christ, what the fuck, Curtis? You trying to get us kicked out of here?" Nick's asking, suddenly beside me. "What in the hell are you—Oh, holy shit."

On TV they're showing token footage of the Miami skyline, Ocean Boulevard and the nightclubs in downtown Miami. Then there's a shot of her. Rosie. She's getting out of a Cadillac, helped by a man in black. He wraps an arm around her shoulders. Wearing huge sunglasses and a fur coat, she dabs at her face with a tissue.

The announcer says, "The death of Vincenzo Trafficante is a shock to many. Gunned down by an unknown assailant two nights ago, investigators are still working to determine those responsible…Trafficante leaves behind his only surviving child Rosalie Trafficante…"

The screen shows a close up of Rosie, old, grainy footage. In a robe, she's on a balcony, smoking. She waves at the camera. Gives her trademark snake-like smile.

"Rosalie Trafficante is now the sole heir to the Trafficante fortune. And as many others speculate she now inherits her father's mob-related ties…. Nothing has ever been proven but sources say…"

"C'mere." Roughly, Nick and I are jerked out of the bar and pulled away by Darry. "You two are idiots," he snaps and storms off.

I look at my friend. "She killed him. She killed Vinny. She killed her goddamn father."

Nick says, "If I puke right here and now, you won't tell anyone about it, will you?"

Steve Randle saunters up. He slings an arm around my shoulder, eyes dark and curious. "So that's your girl, huh, kid?"

OoO

April rolls into May.

It's not much but I get a job at a busy record store downtown. I need something fast-paced, to take my brain away from whatever I want to think about. From that itch. I still feel it brewing, but I vow to keep it down as long as I can. For myself. I need to.

It's slow but Nick and I start outlining our book. We have no idea where we're going to go with it but it's a project. I'm writing something, so I'll take it.

Darry and Steve's business thrives. They keep the Lake Elmo account. Initially, Darry felt guilty about taking it because of Walter Wentworth's connection but Soda and I had talked him into it. And every time I drive by the Curtis Construction sign, instead of thinking about The Tulsa Terror, I think of how proud I am of my brother.

I don't hear from Max. He's still at the Tulsa World, publishing those gory stories he loves. I wonder who he'll sucker into taking my spot.

I still dream about Willy, but they're not as in-depth as they had been in the hospital. More like bursts of conversation and flashes of light. I still can't tell whether Willy was the best or worst thing that ever happened to me.

I can run again. I practice three times a week and I'm fast. The buzz in my head still sounds on off days and my back still gives a tweak but I'm better now. I'm whole.

Like Marie said, everything heals.

OoO

It's like working in a library except I'm shelving records alphabetically instead of books. I find a spot for the Rolling Stones and shelve it, sliding the thin album between two others. Door chimes jungle, music blasting over the speakers.

A voice comes out of nowhere. "Ponyboy Curtis?"

I turn. A man in a brown bomber jacket and jeans stands behind me. He's maybe in his late 40s with a grizzled beard and shaggy salt and pepper hair. He looks too sloppy to be associated with Rosie so I relax. But he looks out of place in the record store.

"Yeah, that's me." He doesn't say anything, instead looking me over. "What do you want, man? You with the press?"

"In a way. I'm Richard Jaax. I'm with the Washington Post."

"I ain't giving interviews. If you want something, do your own research."

"I don't want an interview," he says gruffly. "I'm here to offer you a job."

"What?"

"Saw your earlier articles. Been keepin up with you and your writing. Know you just got done with one hell of a story and I'm wondering why I haven't read it yet."

"Maybe one day." I give him a slight smile. "I ain't doin' that no more."

"Seems a real shame to give that up."

"Yeah…well…not now."

"Okay, kid. Okay. We all need a break now and then. I get that. But listen…" Jaax reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a business card. I stare at it. "The offer is always open if you change your mind. Washington D.C. is a better place. Better than Tulsa."

"I like Tulsa."

"I'm sure you do. Listen, you ever need anything, you call me."

"Why would I need anything from you?"

Jaax grins. "I heard you were a pain in the ass." He extends an arm. "You never know when you need connections. People to help you out. The world's a big place." He shakes the business card. "Consider this an IOU. Go on. Take it."

I do.

OoO

The papers are spread across the floor of my bedroom. Even the outline of the story is a mess. I sit back and smear my hair. I have no idea how I'm going to do this. When I think about it, really think about it, it's too soon for me to write this. I need time to get over it.

Soda opens the door, Darry behind him. "What's all this?" Soda asks. "A story?"

I extend my legs and flop down, leaning back against the side of the bed. "Well, it was gonna be a story. Ain't too sure about it now."

Soda sits next to me and picks up a page. Reads it. He looks at me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I had the bright idea to write a book." I shrug. "Or something."

Darry has his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and is leaning in the doorway. "If that's what you want to do, Pony, you should do it."

"I will," I say. "Just not…now. I can't right now."

Soda slings an arm around my shoulders and laughs. "Don't forget about us when you're a famous writer, you hear?" Darry chuckles.

I smile. Look at my brothers. Feel the warmth of my bedroom. My home.

"No. Never."

OoO

A football flies through the house. Liz yelps and spills a vat of barbecue sauce on the kitchen floor. "Soda," she shouts. "I'm this close to siccing Darry on you!"

Soda bounds in, grabbing a rag. "Sorry, Liz. I got it."

Two-Bit and Kathy come in the back door, followed by Bradley Miles. "I wanted to make you a banner, Ponyboy," Two-Bit says. "But Kathy wouldn't let me."

Kathy rolls her eyes. "I don't think Darry would like a banner that said, 'Congratulations on Your Nine Lives, Ponyboy Curtis'."

I laugh and go say hi to Brad. He smiles shyly and starts telling me about school.

The house is nuts. We're redoing Darry and Steve's party, as well as having a "Welcome Home" party for me, courtesy of Two-Bit. It's spring, the weather's warm, all the doors in the house are open. Soda and Steve keep flying through them and tossing the football. Darry's out back manning the grill.

"Where's your woman, Ponyboy?" Two-Bit asks, sidling up to me and Brad.

I redden. "She's coming later."

Kathy laughs. "You mind your manners around her, Two-Bit. You can't scare her off just yet."

"You can bet your pretty ass I'm going to try."

Bradley laughs. I rub my eyes.

OoO

I hand Darry a beer as he prods burgers with the tongs. Nick's here, blabbering on about his part-time job at the state fair, while everyone else is on the porch drinking beers and messing with the radio. I glance down the street for any sign of Flora.

"How'd we get stuck cooking?" Darry asks me.

"You scare everyone away from the grill." Darry barks out a laugh and flips a patty.

There's a whistle and then, "You ready for me to make a man outta you, Ponyboy Curtis?" Steve, walking over to us, slams the football into his palm.

I shake my head and Nick says to me, "I got a trunk with his name on it."

"Come on," Steve says. "Go long."

"Easy, Steve," Darry says.

I give my worried brother a grin and hustle to the sidewalk. Steve retreats, draws his arm back and then lets the ball snap. It sails through the sky, a longer throw than I had anticipated. Adrenaline kicking in, I bolt into the street, narrowly missing colliding with a Corvair. Shouts come from the porch, but ignoring them, I jump and catch the ball, taking a tumble on the neighbor's front lawn.

I hop up and wave the ball. Darry shakes his head and points the tongs Steve, his words mute from where I am far across the street but I know Steve's getting his ass chewed out. Nick gives me two thumbs up.

The wind rustles and that's when I notice the man walking toward me. His face is blank, eyes pale. "Ponyboy Curtis?"

"That's me."

"I was told to deliver you this." He shows me an envelope. "On this day."

"What is it?" I ask, taking it.

"From a Willy Wiese and that's all I know." He turns on his heel and walks back the direction he came.

Holding my breath, I slide a finger under the flap and open the envelope. I pull out a loose piece of notebook paper. I read fast. Breath hitches in my throat. I blink, surprised.

Soda's standing on the porch now, watching. He calls my name, taking my attention. He tells me to come back. To come home. I see my house and my brothers. I give him a quick nod, silently telling him I'll be there.

I fold the paper up and stick Willy's words in my pocket.

OoO

The end!

Wrapped up…but not too tight. Now you gotta wait for the sequel.

ACK! Ok, so I cannot seriously thank everyone who read and reviewed and even those who didn't. This story took on a life of its own and I thank you for coming along with it. Whew. Just know, after every chapter posted, I looked forward to your reviews. They were like a nice little present after writing. I so, so appreciate it.

Anywho…I WILL write another story. But I actually need to focus on my REAL book for once. It's in the 2nd draft so I need a few months to do that. To those of you who have asked or mentioned, yes, I actually do write short stories that are published, I'm not just lazing around FF. Haha. This is just a fun hobby…and as long as people are reading I'll write.

I'm sure I'll be around with a few one-shots…and a longer story in late spring.

Ok, so now that I rambled like a mofo…I thank you again.

Thank you.

XO

Feisty