The next morning, as thin wisps of cloud hung in the sky and the oak tree tapped against the window, the sounds of birdsong woke Pony from a deep, dreamless sleep. Soda was gone from the bed, the sheets still unruly. He sighed and strode to the kitchen in search of the gang.
Both luckily and unluckily, nobody was home, but there was a letter taped to the fridge: Hey kiddo. Me and Superman went to work with Steve, but we left you some breakfast. (Dar wanted you to sleep in for once) Two-Bit and Johnny should come by later but Dal didn't show up this morning, and he might not swing by later. Keep an eye out for him. See ya.
The morning passed to noon at a snail's pace, and still nobody showed up. Pony tried to keep the events of the previous night in the back of his mind, but he just couldn't focus on much else despite his best efforts. Familiar anxiety filled the pit of his stomach. Who was the boy? Where was he? Would he come back? What if-
A light knock on his door rose him from his stupor. He approached the door with trepidation- the gang didn't knock before entering, not even Johnny. Was it a social worker? Instead, he saw a frail ravenette, inky-black locks streaked through with gray and white hairs. She had a thin face and bug-like brown eyes. However, Pony's eyes were immediately drawn to the back brace positioned around her middle, visible through the thin fabric of her shirt. He swallowed.
"H-hello," he said cautiously. He hadn't seen her before and she wasn't wearing a social worker's uniform at all.
"Oh, hi," she said sheepishly. "I'm Wendy Torrance. I just moved in with my son yesterday, and I met your brothers last night, er…"
"Pony. Ponyboy Curtis." Surprisingly, Wendy didn't bat an eye. Relieved, Pony led her inside onto the couch. "Is your back okay?" he blurted out. He saw a few glimpses of the man from the previous night. He hurt her.
"It's fine. A car crash a few years ago. The pain springs up once in a while, though," she replied. Her face became drawn. Pony didn't want to press further, and the two lapsed into silence.
"Who's your son?" Pony tried.
"His name's Danny. He's around your age, actually. Turned 14 just a few weeks ago. You and your family can come over whenever you want, in case you want to meet him." Pony saw flashes of the hotel again, but also an older version of the boy, at the edge of a playground by himself. He frowned.
Wendy left a few minutes later, but the conversation did lighten Pony's spirits. What if the boy- no, Danny- was the mysterious voice he'd heard? In fact, even Two-Bit managed to pick up on his sudden happiness when he came by.
"What's up, Pony? What's with the goofy smile?" Two-Bit had piped up from his position in front of the TV, now blaring reruns of old Mickey Mouse cartoons. Pony didn't reply.
Eventually, once the afternoon went down to twilight, and the stars spilled across the inky sky, he lay on a branch of the oak tree. He was able to look into his room from his position, but also into the living room of the Torrance home. Now, he found himself almost unconsciously looking through and saw Danny with Wendy on the couch.
The boy suddenly looked up and met Pony's eyes, which widened with shock. A feeling almost like an electric shock bolted all the way down his spine and all the hairs on his nape lifted into goosebumps. Danny whispered something to his mother and, before Pony knew it, was at the bottom of the oak tree. The two stared at each for a few heartbeats. A soft summer breeze caressed their cheeks.
"Hello, Ponyboy."