Chapter 5

(Steve)

His voice was breaking.

Soda leaned over the bed, lips hovering barely above the kid's face as he ran his fingers through the kid's hair. He brushed it back as if it would fall across the boy's forehead, though it never did. His other hand had found Pony's and clutched it tightly as his thumb swirled small circles on the still hand.

He didn't bother to wipe the tears from his face, just let them drip onto the bed.

I had the sudden feeling that I shouldn't be here. This was a moment meant to be shared between brothers. But I stayed. Soda needed me.

He hadn't so much as looked as me since he strode into the room, but he needed me. Maybe he was just worried about Ponyboy. Or maybe he was mad at me for getting them thrown in that boys home. Maybe he blamed me for what happened to his little brother. Maybe he would never talk to me again.

But he needed me, so I stayed, half hidden in the shadows in the corner of the cold white hospital room.

His voice was breaking. I didn't know how he could sing that stupid song at a time like this anyway. He'd tried claiming once that he didn't like it-that it wasn't tuff like an Elvis song. But I knew he was lying. I'd seen the ways his eyes sparkled when he sang it. And, more importantly, he knew Pony loved it.

"D-do Wah D-di-diddy, diddy d-dum d-diddy d-do." Soda stuttered. He repeated the line over and over, unable to move past it. He'd been at it for at least fifteen minutes straight, brokenly singing the line over and over again while he stroked the kid's hair. "Do wah diddy, d-diddy d-dum diddy do…" the words were a whisper, an understood plea for Pony to be comforted, to wake up. But the kid didn't stir. Why would he? He'd been here a week and there had been no change. No sign of life. If anything, he had gotten worse.

But we didn't say that to Sodapop. This was the first time he was seeing the kid. Hell, he'd just heard about this whole thing. So we hadn't said anything. Two Bit was hanging at my elbow, also watching the scene play out in front of us. He was close enough that I could feel his tension. He wanted to leave too, that much was obvious. But maybe, like me, he was afraid to leave Soda and Darry. Or maybe he just didn't want to pull their attention away from Pony if he walked across the room.

But I'm not sure they would have noticed a train coming through. Soda was completely consumed with Pony, and Darry had been staring at the same spot on the wall since he sat in the chair. His eyes were red, sunken. I wondered how he could stand to keep them open, how he managed not to cry while listening to Sodapop break our hearts.

I wished Dally was here. I had the feeling he'd know what to say. He had a knack for saying the right things at the wrong times.

Two poked his elbow into my side, and I shifted away from him, wondering if I could track down a couple more chairs for us.

"Yeah?" I whispered, looking at him.

He didn't look away from Soda and the too small boy that laid in the hospital bed. For a moment, the only sounds were Soda's soft "singing" and the whirring push of the breathing machine. "Do you remember when you and Soda sang that for Pony?"

Remember? How could I forget?

I told myself I didn't do it for Pony though. We was just having a good time.

"You did too, Two Bit." I answered him.

And suddenly I was back in their house, the radio loud, like usual. Do Wah Diddy came blasting on the radio and Soda jumped to his feet, overturning the poker game in the process. That crazy kid ignored everyone's angry shouts. Beer bottle in hand, that dummy sang into it like a microphone, eyes flashing with excitement. He turned sideways, shaking his hips and throwing his free hand out with the beat.

"There she was just a walkin' down the street…" He pointed at Pony and I rolled my eyes and he fake walked in place, still swinging his hips.

The next thing I knew, there was Two Bit, hand on Soda's shoulder, singing backup into the beer bottle. They bopped left and right with the beat, hands on each other's shoulders, smiling into the bottle.

Soda hit a resounding "Ohhh-ohhh!" twitching his lips like Elvis and flashing his dimples. Little wisps of hair bounced against his forehead.

Next thing I know, him and Two had their arms around me, pulling me to my feet. Soda shoved the bottle into my face, still swaying with the beat.

And then, there we were, a bunch of greasers dancing like fools singing into a beer bottle.

Real tuff.

And that idiot kid Pony was laughing so hard that his face was red, tears streaking his face. He laughed real deep, from the gut, like a little kid. High pitched and everything, throwing his head back. Finally, he gasped for breath as he clutched his sides. He was doubled over, nearly falling off the Curtis' couch.

I sighed as the memory faded and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Two's eyes had that far away look in them like he was rememberin' too.

That was one of the last times we was all together 'fore they got sent away.

My eyes flicked back to the bed. Soda was still singing softly to him, his head now pressed against the side of the kid's face as he stroked his hair.

I watched them, knowing that I was the one that put them here. It was my fault.

My eyes burned, and swiped at them with my sleeve.

I dropped my head into my hands, exhausted. I don't know why I ever thought I hated the kid.