Chapter 8
Just a reviewer now: I love the reviewer names you come up with.
I guess you'll have to keep reading to see what Soda is going to do...(wink wink)
I would recommend any book by Louis Lamour (especially if you are an outdoor lover-his nature descriptions are to die for). I also like Ralph Compton.
…and now, on with the show…
(Ponyboy)
I read the crumpled paper again, even though I didn't need to. I'd read it so many times that I had it memorized. Good thing I did too, cause with as many times as I'd folded and unfolded it, the grey words had smudged across the page, and I'd worn holes in the fold lines. The small tears cut through some words and made them unreadable, but, like I said, I already had them memorized.
I ran my hand over Sodapop's scratchy signature, the letters smudging just a little bit more under my fingertips and leaving a light layer of lead dust on my skin. It felt good just to touch something that Soda had touched.
The letter even smelled a little like him, if I closed my eyes and tried real hard to remember what he smelled like.
It made me feel like I was still connected to him somehow.
I carefully refolded the paper and shoved it into my back pocket. I'd kept it with me since those boys had given it to me.
Glory, I missed Sodapop so bad that it made my heart ache. Of course, I missed Darry too. And Two Bit. And I even missed Steve…sometimes.
To tell the truth I was still a bit angry with him since it was his fault I got stuck here in the first place.
But mostly I just missed Soda, especially at night. I slept with his letter clutched in my hand, and when I was sleeping, I think it sometimes made me dream that Soda was there with his arm around me.
Too bad a piece of wrinkled paper can't comfort me like he does when I have one of those nightmares.
I'm lucky, I guess, cause most of the boys in this house are at least a little younger than me, so none of them give me much grief when I wake up screamin' at night. I've heard other boys screaming down the hall too, so I suppose I'm not the only one that it happens to.
Life here isn't so bad, for being a boys home. I can read a lot. They got a library at the school. But I'm only allowed one book at a time, and since I don't talk to nobody here, I go through the books pretty fast. It could be worse.
But it sure ain't home, and I sure miss my brothers.
I ripped the page out of my composition book and read through the letter I'd written back to Sodapop. Mine was longer, of course, but Soda never was much of a writer. I folded it, carefully creasing the edges into a perfect square, and put it in my pocket with the one he'd written to me. I hadn't seen those boys since they'd given me the letter, but I'd be ready with a letter of my own when I did see them again.
The thought of being able to get my letter to Sodapop got my heart thumping, and my knees got a little tingly with excitement. The energy buzzed through me like whirring honeybees, pricking at my bones, and I had to get moving, to be doing something. I wondered if this was how Sodapop felt all the time...like he was buzzing on too much caffeine. Or like something was buzzing inside of him. Maybe that was why he could never sit still for that long. I wouldn't be able to either if I always felt like bees were swarming inside me.
The prickling and buzzing got so I couldn't ignore it, and I sprang off my bed and grabbed my stack of books. It was a little early to head to the school, breakfast had just finished, but the house manager knew I liked learning and wouldn't stop me from going a little early.
I figured I could wait outside the school building. And maybe, I was lucky enough, I could catch that kid James and his gang before school started. They were some kind of friends to Soda, and I was sure they'd deliver my letter if I could only find them. Since I knew they went to the school too I figured they'd have to go through those doors sooner or later. I'd just wait for them.
I looked across the damp green grass as I walked. The brick building across the yard towered above me. I raised my hand against the sun and squinted, trying to see into the small, dark windows. I was thinking that maybe I could catch a glimpse of Soda. But all I saw was the reflection of the crumbling brick building I'd come out of.
I crossed the yard quickly, and tiny dew droplets began to cling to my shoes and soak through to my socks. I ignored the damp that blanketed me and tried its best to creep through my ratty shoes.
It was almost easy to ignore since I was thinking so hard about Sodapop and wondering when I'd get a chance to see him or Darry again. They never let me see Soda, but the state lets Darry come once a week. But when he comes we usually spend half the time just sitting in awkward silence. Then Darry spends the other half of the time asking me if I've done my homework and how my grades are.
I rolled my eyes at the thought. Even in a boy's home I couldn't get away from Darry nagging me 'bout school. But I kind of look forward to him askin' every week, so I guess I miss him nagging too.
I miss everything about home. Except maybe the Socs. But I'd even take them back if I could just go home and be with Soda and Darry again.
It wasn't long before I found myself sitting on the stairs leading up to the school. The rough concrete froze the backs of my legs and my wet socks didn't help things none.
It was chilly, and I was wishing I had thought of bringing a jacket. I guess Darry's right, I really don't use my head sometimes. But I had been so excited about the prospects of getting a letter to Soda that I forgot how cool it is in the mornings. It'd be near 80 by midafternoon, but the mornings were still cold.
I hugged my arms to my chest for warmth and chewed at my nails, wishing for a cigarette. Darry wouldn't bring them for me anymore, so I'd been without one for awhile now. I used to smoke like a chimney. Now I ain't got any fingernails left cause I've taken to chewing them instead of smoking. Nails chewed down to nubs doesn't exactly make me look like a tough hood. Not that I'd ever looked like one before, but a smoke in my hand certainly helped the image better than bitten down nails.
Sodapop's friends would have to pass me to get in the building, so I wouldn't miss them today.
I sat there chewing on my nails, waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
Most of the kids were already in the building when I finally decided that Sodapop's friends must not be coming. I wondered if they'd found a way to skip, but seriously doubted it, what with this place being a strict boys school and everything.
I was standing up to go inside, stomping my feet to get some of the feeling back in my toes, when I heard someone holler my name from around the corner.
I bent over the railing to get a look…not many people know me here, so I didn't know who would be yelling at me, but I guess a lot of 'em remember my name cause of how original it is and all.
Anyway, I was leaning over the railing to see who was calling me, and suddenly I was face to face with Soda's friend James. And when I say face to face, I mean I could count the brownish-red freckles speckled across his nose.
I was looking right into his sharp blue diamond eyes. For a second, they reminded me of Darry's, but I immediately knew I was wrong. These eyes were harder. Like Dally's. Or Tim Shepard's. And these eyes were angry.
I blinked at him stupidly as I tried to figure out what he was doing so close to my face and what I could've done wrong to put him there.
Before I knew what was happening, his rough hands grabbed my shirt and dragged me over the railing. Fire raked across my stomach as my t-shirt tore against the stone sides, and I had the sudden sensation of falling, arms flailing helplessly through the air.
Now, this railing ain't extremely high, but it ain't real close to the ground either. He'd had to reach above his head to grab me, so when I fell all the way to the rocky earth it wasn't too surprising that I hit my head real hard and had gotten the wind knocked out of me.
Once, when I was little, a bird had flown right into our front window. It hit with a sickening crunch, and I swore it dang near shook that whole wall of the house before thudding onto the weathered wooden planks that made up our porch.
Well, my head must have still been cloudy, cause lying there, I thought of that bird, and decided it must have felt the same then as I did now. One minute you were soaring on the wind, and the next you were looking up at the cloudless sky, air caught tight in your chest, unable to move, with the sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong.
Like I said, I don't always use my head. Then again, maybe it was cause I whacked it real good when I landed, but at this point, I was still somewhat inclined to believe that maybe dragging me over the railing had been some sort of sick prank or an accident. After all, Soda's friends wouldn't hurt me. I'd done nothing to them.
My head went from cloudy to clear real quick when Sodapop's blonde friend used his boot to hold my face against the ground. Suddenly there were more shoes standing in front of me. A lot more shoes. James's boot pressed harder, twisting just enough to force a little squeak of protest out of my mouth. Tiny rocks stung the sides of my cheek as I inhaled the scents of fresh earth and dirty sneakers.
Now, growing up with the threat of getting jumped by Socs all the time did have its advantages. And one of those advantages was the ability to realize when you were in deep shit.
So, I didn't even have to think of what I was going to do next. I just opened my mouth and hollered real loud while throwing my legs one way and pushing his foot the other.
I was still hollerin,' hoping someone, anyone, would hear me as James nearly toppled. Suddenly, I was on my knees scrambling to get my feet under me. Somehow I was able to my balance just enough to push off the dirt, and I lunged at an open space between two of the bodies.
I almost made it, too.
But I hadn't quite gained my footing yet, so when rough hands suddenly pushed me from behind I landed face-first back into the rocky dirt.
I turned onto my back, throwing my arms up to protect my face instinctively, and one of them was on top of me, try to shove something in my mouth to keep me from screaming.
Oh no, not this again.
I bucked as violently as I could and tried to push his arms away, but the others grabbed and held me. Someone kicked me in the ribs, hard, and I felt something inside me give.
Oh God, I couldn't breathe.
Dally would have been proud though, cause I still refused to give up, fighting back harder than ever and throwing a few curses around the gag they were still trying to shove down my throat. I gagged as the boy's fingers reached too far down, and I knew if he didn't stop soon I was going to be sick. His nails scraped against the insides of my mouth—small, sharp, painful cuts that burned tears to my eyes.
He had to get off.
I couldn't breathe.
Oh God, it hurt.
I was going to suffocate.
So, I did the only thing I could think of.
I bit him.
The taste of iron covered the rag stuffing my mouth and James jerked back a bloody hand. I gagged again, just before a hard fist slammed into my temple.
Lights exploded in front of my eyes and for a second, I lost all sound.
I shook my head a little, trying to clear it, but it only made the lights explode again. The boy on top of me blurred into a swirling mass of colors and I felt my arms go limp.
The weight was suddenly off my chest, but I still couldn't breathe real good. I couldn't hear real good neither.
"Damn, James, you killed him." A voice spoke from far away and something, maybe a foot, nudged my side.
My head was foggy, and I was having some trouble thinking, but I knew one thing; I had to get away. I did my best to roll over and push myself up.
I think I was groaning. I don't know. I wasn't sure if it was me making the noise anymore.
"Not yet I haven't," James answered the voice, "But I will."
I suddenly got real cold and shaky, knowing they meant to kill me for sure. I clawed at the dirt, but I didn't seem to be able to move more than an inch without the ground tilting away from me.
Then James's sharp blue eyes were suddenly back in my face, freckles dancing so wildly in front of me that they made my head swim even more. He sneered, pinching my chin with an iron grip that forced me to stay looking at him.
"Hey Ponyboy, be sure to tell your brother thanks for rattin' us out…if you live that long. I'll probably be goin' to the reformatory now, thanks to him. Just remember, all this is for Sodapop."
For Soda? I didn't understand.
They were all around me.
I tried to fight back. I swear I did.
But it was no good. There were too many. They carried me around the corner, out of sight of the front windows.
There was a lot of them, and only one of me.
They got me then, and I wished I was knocked out a long time before I was. When the darkness finally found me, I welcomed it.
(Soda)
I was dreaming of a lost puppy. A small, wandering puppy with sad brown eyes that reminded me of Johnny. The puppy walked down a dark and rainy street, alone and whimpering.
There was whimpering in the darkness.
Suddenly my eyes were wide, and I was shooting out of the hard, uncomfortable chair and to Pony's bedside.
He turned a little in his sleep, crying and moaning something that I couldn't understand.
"What'd you say, Ponyboy?" I ran my fingers through his hair like I'd done a million times since I had gotten to the hospital.
His eyes fluttered open and found me at the side of the bed. They were still bleary and clouded, I noticed, and I wondered if he even saw me standing there this time. I swear, a few times since he woke up, I'd thought he'd looked right through me.
One time he'd even been talking to Johnny. To Johnny.
My spine prickled at the thought, and I shivered.
But this time his eyes found mine and stayed there.
"What'd you say, honey?" I coaxed again.
His eyes were already closing, but he fought to keep them open when I spoke. His eyebrows pulled together in a tiny 'v' like he was thinking.
"I tried to fight back, Soda. I swear I did."
My heart stopped beating and I froze.
My chest burned something awful, and the heat rose to make eyes burn too. I wiped at them with my sleeve.
He'd been dreaming of the fight.
The fight I'd caused him to be in.
The fight that had almost killed him.
Slowly I released the breath I'd been holding and went back to stroking his hair. My hand shook as I followed his hairline, and he turned into my touch, resting his face against my trembling palm.
"I know you did, honey. Go back to sleep now, okay?" I spoke the words softly, reminded of another day, but this time, he listened to me.
When his breathing evened out and I was sure he was sleeping I made my way to the hall. I had to be quick. Darry had gone home for a while, and I didn't want to leave Pony alone for long.
I found the phone in the lobby and dropped a dime into the slot.
It rang a few times before a tired, gruff voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Tim?" I said, "I need a favor."
