Hi! My goal was to get this out yesterday because it was Outsiders publishing day (54 years since this important novel was published for the first time.) But alas…it took me more time to write and edit than I expected. In general, it's been a while (probably a month since my last update?) Finally, it's here.
I know everyone's dying to find out what happened to Pony, so let's get to it.
Let me know what you think!
XX
Pony felt a cold breeze rush past him that woke him up with a start. Like someone had been in the room just moments earlier and had left as soon as his eyes had snapped open.
He looked around with only two things on his mind.
The pungent smell of hospital disinfectant invaded his nostrils. It was a smell he had never really focused on before, but now it was giving him a headache. Then there was the annoying beeping of the heart monitor. He had tried to ignore it in the past, but now that the room was empty - he noticed between squinting and eventually shutting his eyes - it made his head throb even more.
He was cold.
Pony moaned again and his eyes popped open, They darted from one side to the other, trying to make sense of what had happened to him. Whatever it was that had woken him had shaken him up a bit - like one of those nightmares he never could remember.
Soda always knew what to do when something like that happened.
"Soda?" Pony called out and realized with disappointment that Soda wasn't there.
"Darry?" he pleaded. No answer.
He looked around wildly. The room was empty. Where WAS everyone? Had they all gone home?
Pony's head gave another throb. It still hurt too much to be thinking straight. He felt like his brain weighed a ton and he was surrounded by the thick and heavy clouds.
Things were foggy and he didn't know where anyone was. What he did know was that he was exhausted. His body felt like it had waded through muddy quicksand that was still pulling him down. And the silt coated his brain.
It was the first time he remembered being in the hospital without someone there since he had arrived days earlier.
Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe Darry and Soda had just gone home. Maybe they were there waiting for him?
He wanted to believe that was true. And he wanted to go home, too.
Here he was stuck in this uncomfortable hospital bed, feeling like he was going to keel over, even though he was basically laying down. He was so sick of this hospital. It was literally making him sick. The stiff bedding. The scratchy blankets. The pillows that he couldn't sink into because they were too hard. The annoying plastic tubes.
Maybe Darry and Soda were sick of it, too. Maybe they were sick of the beeping and the disinfectant smell. Maybe they were sick of taking care of him. God almighty. Maybe they were just as tired as he was.
They had to be tired of sleeping in uncomfortable chairs and waking up at all hours of the night, when he had nightmares or fevers, or called out in his sleep. They wanted to be home in their own beds and not have to smell the stagnant air.
Maybe he should be going home, too.
Darry always wants me to come home straight after school.
He was all mixed up.
He always gets mad when he has to wait for me, Pony thought.
He wanted to sleep in his own bed. Here the doctors and nurses scurried around him, collecting his blood, taking his temperature and changing his IVs. Sleep felt like a luxury and when you were as exhausted as he was, good sleep really was even harder to come by.
His brothers would be happy to have him home. Less medical bills. Less commuting. Less dealing with strangers. If he could just get out of here and show them that he was perfectly fine…
If he went home, he could rest for a while and then everything would get back to normal, right? Then Darry would tell him to get up while he cooked breakfast and Soda would drag him out of bed. He'd ask for his favorite - hard eggs with chocolate milk on the side and he'd make faces when Soda would slop on his grape jelly. He'd even offer to do the dishes.
His stomach lurched and his hands shook as he looked around again. His heart beat fast and hard and he realized quickly enough that he needed to get out. So he quit daydreaming and pushed himself up with sweaty palms. His body felt stiff and sore as he pushed away the scratchy blanket that had been thrown across him.
He knew what he had to do.
When Pony sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the room turned bright pink and swayed around him. Things were still fuzzy even after the color passed but red waves of heat slapped at him, blurring his vision. That was strange, as he didn't remember recently having a fever. Still, his head throbbed and the exhaustion weighed him down.
What he was about to do was probably not the wisest decision, but the end result would be worth it right?
Though maybe Darry would tell him he wasn't using his head. He'd start regurgitating what the doctors had told him - all the possible side effects of the medication and the after effects of the infection.
But Darry had no idea what it was like to be here, lying down all day in some kind of fog, the shuffling feet and the muffled voices and wondering if things were ever going to go back to normal. Worried that he might have a fever again or trying to figure out who was actually in the room and if his brothers actually wanted to be there.
He wanted to be home and in his own bed.
Soda would understand.
Once the room stopped spinning, he looked down at his arm and realized he was still attached to the damn IV. He unfurled his arm and scanned over the black and blue marks that formed around the tape across the inside of his elbow.
Acting on impulse, without actually thinking it through, Pony grabbed the tubing and pulled the IV out of his arm. As he did, the tape ripped off like a band-aid that was being pulled too soon and took some skin with it. It hurt like hell, but only for a moment as the plastic catheter holding the needle slid right out.
The area started to bleed, and he put his hand over it quickly to slow the trickle of red. The flow wasn't that severe, but the sight of fresh blood made his stomach give a violent start and he had to fight the dizziness.
He wondered if his head was spinning only because of the blood. Maybe he really wasn't all that well after all. Another reason he had to get home - he'd get better there for sure.
Ponyboy stood up and the vertigo hit him with full force, almost making him sit down again as his legs buckled. Fortunately, he didn't collapse. If he could just take one step without falling…
He put one foot forward and began moving slowly, the dizziness lapping at him like ocean waves. He felt like a toddler taking his first steps, but his legs threatened to cave in at any moment.
Pony looked ahead. While the door that led to the hallway wasn't that far off, the wall was closer. He decided in the next moment that if he could just reach it, he could use the wall to support himself by running his hands along the surface until he got to the door. He was so unsteady, he knew leaning against it would help.
When he got there, Pony ran his fingers along the blotchy, uneven surface, with its peeling paint and cracks. To his dismay, his fingers left rust-colored marks on the wall, but he couldn't think of that now. He edged turtle-slow towards the door, pleased with how things were going but also annoyed by how much his body was working against him. His legs wobbled like jelly.
And then, before he had a chance to move any further, his stomach gave another start and he instantly felt lightheaded. He slumped against the wall, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep himself upright but it was too late. Pony crumpled to the floor before knowing what had hit him.
XX
Steve didn't have time for a cigarette. After politely asking the nurse at the nurse's station to use the phone, he had dialed the DX to update Sodapop. But when Steve couldn't tell him much (Pony had been sleeping since he had left) it was actually Soda who began talking his ear off. Steve let him because - well, he knew Soda was worried about his brother. But it got annoying after a while and the nurse was starting to give him a look.
The look was actually much kinder than Steve would give her credit for, but it was making him self-conscious, like he was spending too much time there. And anyway, didn't he have to get back to the room? Eventually it was Steve who had to be the one to tell Soda to stop talking and get back to work. He had to get back to Pony's room so Soda's little brother wouldn't be alone. That shut Soda up real quick.
Steve could have pat himself on the back for how much he was going out of his way for the kid. He would certainly throw it in Pony's face later.
Still, as he walked back to the room, faster than he intended, he wondered...Am I going soft? Did the kid's well-being actually mean something to him? Smart ass kid.
Steve rounded the corner and walked into room 302. Immediately, the blood drained from his face.
The bed was empty, the covers rumpled, like someone had been in a fight. The pillow had been knocked off the bed, and a tube hung lifelessly off an IV pole.
XX
Thinking the worst, Steve swore blue and green between clenched teeth. He clamped his hand over his mouth and stopped to pull himself together. Shoot, Soda will never let me live this down. Darry is going to kill me! He thought. I swear to god, that kid better be out of his fuckin mind, otherwise I"m going to kill him myself.
He went on to call Ponyboy every name in the book - every name he could think of or make up.
"Jesus Christ!" he said, his hand pushing his own hair back, his face blue and then red in both anger and panic. "Stupid kid."
Then out of nowhere, a small, tired voice called out, "Steve?"
There he was, Ponyboy Curtis keeled over on the floor on one side of the room, back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. Head hanging listlessly over his chest. He looked pale and scared. And sick. Steve could tell by his eyes and the pallor of his skin that he was very much still sick.
It didn't matter. Steve's heart was pounding and his blood was boiling. And then there was that tiny sliver of relief that was trying to slither through like a poisonous rattlesnake.. Steve pushed that feeling aside.
He stormed over to Pony where he sat stooped over against the wall, looking up at him with glassy noticed the trembling in his limbs and his anger cooled a bit, wondering if Pony was sick or just really scared. He also noticed the strange red marks on the walls above Pony's head - the fingerprints - and he practically choked, realizing that they basically showed how Pony had fallen.
What had happened to him?
Steve cut an imposing figure as he loomed over Pony like a tower, arms crossed. The corners of his mouth twitched and he tried not to show Pony the worry in his eyes.
Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he crouched down to Ponyboy's level. Ponyboy tried to sit up straighter, back against the wall, even going as far as to pull the gown tighter around his legs because this was all so weird. He was tired and cold and leaning against the wall was uncomfortable, but better than laying on that cold tiled floor.
Steve's heart thumped out of his chest and he hoped the kid couldn't hear it.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" Steve snarled, sounding more angry than he meant to and gripping Pony's shoulder, also harder than he intended. "You got a death wish or something?" he snapped.
Pony looked at Steve coolly for a moment, but then his face crumpled and his eyes welled up like small buckets.
Nononono, Steve thought, Stop looking so sad. No waterworks kid!
"I - I," Pony couldn't get the words out, the dizziness still hitting him hard.
"You gonna tell me what you're doing over here?" Steve asked, frustrated and not letting the poor guy speak, "What in god's almighty universe were you thinking?!"
He frowned. Steve was the last person Ponyboy wanted to see here.
"Where are my brothers?" Pony asked, wishing he could disappear so that Steve wouldn't hear in his voice how hard he was fighting back the tears.
Steve stood up, the pain in his calves getting to him from having crouched too long. Or maybe he just wanted to be taller than Pony - show him who was in charge. He crossed his arms again.
"They left," Steve barked back harshly, without an explanation. "What are you doing down there?" he said nudging his chin towards the kid as if he had been standing the whole time.
Having Steve there instead of his brothers was actually making Ponyboy quite angry and suddenly some of that courage he had lost when he fell was back.
"What do you think I'm doing down here?" he snapped, "I'm going for a stroll." He wished he could be in the company of anyone but Steve. Hell, even Two-Bit would understand.
"How'd you even get over here?" Steve asked, getting more fed up by the second. It was almost comical how crazy he looked, flapping his arms widely, "You better start talking, Ponyboy Curtis!"
It was at that moment that Steve noticed Pony's limp left arm and the blood flowing down from the location where he had pulled out the IV. He realized immediately that the fingerprints above Pony's head were bloody fingerprints, and it made his one blood run cold.
Suddenly he was in front of Pony, sitting down on his heels. He could feel the cold tile even through his jeans and wondered how long Pony had been sitting there clad only in his hospital gown.
Steve grabbed the arm with the dried blood, which caused the youngest Curtis to flinch.
"You're bleeding!" he blurted out. "You were bleeding when you fell...there are fingerprints on the wall! What the HELL, Ponyboy? You mind telling me what the hell you were thinking? Where did ya think you're going? What gave you the bright idea to get out of bed?!"
Ponyboy flinched again when Steve pulled at his arm. He bit his lip, more embarrassed than actually hurt. Realizing what he had done without meaning to, Steve quickly dropped the limb, his eyes dark.
"Your brothers are gonna kill me. I ain't itchin' to tell them and get -"
"You wanna tell Darry and Soda? Go ahead," Pony's voice croaked, "What are you even doing here Steve? Where did my brothers go? I was fine here all by my lonesome, anyway. don't need a babysitter."
For a sick kid, he sure was mouthy. "Man, if you weren't Sodapop Curtis's little brother, I'd clobber ya." Steve gritted his teeth.
But then he scanned Pony's face and realized just how pale he was, how glazed his eyes were.
"Like I said," Pony retorted after the awkward silence, "I DON'T NEED A BABYSITTER."
"Apparently you do if you're going to be making trips before you can even walk straight," Steve answered smoothly.
Ponyboy drifted his head to the right. Either he was feeling ill again or he was having a hard time concentrating, Steve noticed. He looked unfocused.
"Hey!" he snapped his fingers rudely in front of the kid's face. "Snap out of it would ya?"
Pony turned and looked at him, as if he was realizing all over again that Steve was there and his brothers weren't. His face fell again and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand like a kid who was - well, sick.
"What are you doing here, Steve?" Pony asked again wearily, "Where are Darry and Soda?"
"Your brothers had to go to work," Steve answered, his voice calmer, "Someone had to stay with you while they were gone."
Pony leaned his head back against the dull beige wall, his shoulders starting to ache. It didn't help that he had just had physical therapy for the first time this morning and he wasn't quite over it just yet. He couldn't shake the cold feeling and he was trying with all his might not to start bawling in front of Steve Randle.
He remembered trying to make his way to the door earlier and then his legs finally collapsing, not being able to hold his weight. Gripping the grimy backdrop wasn't enough, the paint was peeling off and suddenly he had cream flakes in his hands as he slid down against it. The coldness of the tile was a shock to his bony knees even if he had sunk down slowly like rubbery molasses.
Ponyboy was now slumped on the floor, his knees pulled up even more to his chest, trying to keep away that creepy cold feeling that was always around him even when he had a blanket on.
Instead, he looked at Steve angrily, his eyes stormy. "I don't - NEED - A BABYSITTER!" he repeated a third time, this time with more conviction.
Steve sighed heavily realizing it wouldn't do anyone any good to make the kid feel worse.
"Soda asked me to watch you while he went to work. Boss gave me the day off," he said matter-of-factly. "We're not gonna get too many customers today after the storm. Darry went to catch up on a few hours at the warehouse."
So they aren't home, Pony thought.
"I'm fine," Pony responded evenly. "You can go home."
"Sure you are," Steve snickered under his breath, "I know you think you don't need a babysitter, but I can tell you're still sick, kid. It's all over your face. So you better start talking."
He sighed again, shaking his head and going to sit over to sit next to Pony along the wall,like he had sat down next to Soda when he was having a panic attack two days earlier.
"Start talking, Ponyboy," he said again, not actually knowing if his comment was going to work. Another awkward pause. "Start talking or I'm gonna get the nurse in here. Bet you she's gonna have fun shootin' you up with a hypodermic."
It was harsh, even for him. He wanted so much to be mad at the kid. But how could anyone be mad at someone who was so ill.
"Start talking before I call your brothers and tell them what's going on in here."
Pony knew full well his brothers would find out anyway, but he took the bait.
"I just wanna go home, alright?" he looked at Steve hard, his lower lip pouting. "Darry and Soda weren't here when I woke up, so I thought maybe they went home and I wanted to be there, too. I'd get along just fine there and probably get better, too."
Steve put his hands over his eyes, shaking his head and mumbling a few curses.
"Stupid kid," he muttered under his breath "What are you, an idiot? You wanted to go home? You can barely walk!" he broke in, about to make a smartass comment.
But then he looked up and saw that Pony's eyes were watering again. And something - he didn't know what - something he couldn't explain passed through him and made him decide to be calmer. He put his hand on the kid's shoulder.
"Listen, kid, you're sick," he began, before switching gears and trying a different tactic. "Do you even know how sick you are? They had to cut your head open. You got something called meningitis. I can't even say the word right, it's that bad. Your blood pressure dropped and your organs were failing. You almost DIED!"
Pony's face paled and Steve regretted the blunt nature of his words.
"Your brothers have been worried sick. They've been here day and night," he added. "Look," he said, his voice lower and more gentle, "They can do a lot more for you here than Soda and Darry can at home, even if it's more comfortable there. Get it? And Darry and Soda want you to be here. For Christ's sake, stop being so stubborn. Think of your brothers."
"I don't wanna be here anymore," Pony said dejectedly. He sounded so young and innocent that even Steve felt bad for him, though he definitely didn't want anyone knowing that- least of all Ponyboy
"You almost DIED, kid. Jesus Christ you...you almost died! You know how hard that was on your brothers?" He stopped, "On all of us?!"
Pony stared at him, like he was trying to remember the crazy blur that had been the last few days. Trying to find Darry, falling in the snow, the hat covering his face, Darry trying to lift him and giving him the worst neck pain of his life. All the doctors and nurses crowding around him on the gurney. Looking up at Soda as something was pressed into his back. The puking. The fever. The feeling that he couldn't breathe or when he could feel the pain of something hurting. The bright lights he couldn't look straight at, the ones that looked like halos. And now, the feeling that even Steve felt sorry for him. That was the worst feeling of all.
"You're not thinking straight, Ponyboy," Steve said bitterly, before Pony could say another word, "You're supposed to be the smart one, kid. The brainiac of the gang. What would make you think getting out of bed and leaving the room would be anything close to a good idea?"
Ponyboy shrugged. "You don't know what it's like to be here all day and night. Feeling bad. Feeling hot. Feeling cold. Stuck to the bed. Wanting to sleep all the time. I hate it here."
"You think I like it?" he practically spat, "You think your brothers want to spend their time off in this snowy hell at a hospital? Nobody likes being here," Steve responded coolly. "They do it because they have to."
"They don't have to!" Pony spit back.
"You know why they are here, Pony," Steve said, giving him a look. "You know they want to be here. Stop lying to yourself. Who are you kiddin'? You just don't want to be here, cause you're scared shitless."
Ponyboy scowled, looking down at the floor "I ain't," he said staring at a speck of dirt on the ground.
"You wanna bet money on that kid? Cause I do know how the hell that feels."
That comment made Ponyboy look up in surprise. "Whaddya mean?" he asked.
"I was stuck in the hospital once, too. I know how much it blows," Steve replied, "You don't remember? You were there!"
Ponyboy scratched his head.
"Soda and I were 12. We went ice skating for the first time. Your mom took us to Oilers Ice Center, remember? She said she'd only do it if you could tag along. You always had to tag along," Steve grumbled,, "I think you were - maybe 10?"
Ponyboy looked confused. He was fighting through some kind of fog to try and remember what Steve was talking about
"You honestly don't remember?" Steve asked, looking at him, "Soda and I pretended to be hockey players. And you followed us around the rink like a tagalong kid."
"We were doing pretty good until Soda tripped and you fell over him," Steve said with a laugh, "I actually tried to save Soda from toppling and breaking your fall but I ended up breaking my leg in the process."
Steve looked at Pony, who was rubbing one side of his neck with his right hand; the same side that had been giving him problems earlier. Then he put his hands over his eyes and nose and rubbed his face a few times.
"Are you listening to me, Ponyboy?" Steve asked, trying to ignore his signs of illness for the time being, "You seriously don't remember this at all, Ponyboy?" Steve asked, "They rushed me to the hospital. Broke my leg in three places. It was scary."
"You?" Ponyboy scoffed, taking his fingers off his eyes, "You wouldn't get scared over a broken leg. Come on, are you making this up?
"Yeah, I was scared," Steve said, jutting his chin out in defiance, "I had to have surgery. And my dad never even showed up. He was too busy drinking his sorrows away somewhere. If it wasn't for your mom -" he paused, feeling his own lump in throat. He didn't want it to get that far, "I was scared shitless, kid," Steve continued, "And it was ok. Ya dig? Yea, I know you do." He looked at Pony, who nodded heavily.
He paused, looking at Ponyboy again. "I can't believe you don't remember this, kid. You were crying the whole time. I never saw a 10-year old kid cry so much," he snickered.
Pony felt his face grow hot. "I don't remember a lot of things these days," he said.
Damn kid, making me feel sorry again, Steve thought."Yeah, well...the doctor told your brothers that memory loss is a side effect,"
Ponyboy swallowed thickly and sighed, "I ain't ever gonna be normal again, am I?" he asked dramatically, holding his head in his hands.
"Shoot, I never thought you were normal anyway," Steve joked, lightly punching his arm and grinning. It was probably the lightest Steve had actually "punched '' someone and still Pony frowned and put his left hand on his right bicep rubbing the area, even though he knew Steve was just teasing. "You'll be just fine if you stop pullin' these stunts. You need to go back to bed and rest up, Ponyboy," he said. "That's the best way to get over this."
Ponyboy looked down at the floor over his knees as his eyes teared up, but he wouldn't let Steve see him crying. Steve noticed but he didn't say anything. Instead, he dropped a hand on the back of Pony's neck.
"I think you got a fever again, kid," he said, "That's what gettin' out of bed will do to ya. Ya gotta relax."
"I don't got a fever," Pony said, as Steve pulled his hand away.
"That's for the nurse to decide," Steve said.
Pony bowed his head forward into his knees, and cupped the back of his head, interlocking his hands together, something he remembered seeing Soda do when he had a headache. "I'm just cold," he mumbled into himself.
"Well, whatever it is, you're making me nervous just lookin at ya," Steve pointed out. "You really need to get back to bed."
"When are my brothers getting back?" Pony asked, still curled up.
Steve looked down at his watch - Pony remembered him bragging to everyone the day a customer had gifted it to him after he found it in the man's car at the DX. It was definitely not something a greaser would usually wear.
"Soda's supposed to be closin' up in about an hour. Darry is done after," Steve said, "Come on, kid, you need to go back to bed. We're gonna need to tell a nurse about your arm, too."
Pony looked down at his arm where a stream of blood had dried, as Steve stood up.
He looked up at Steve, his eyes lined with worry. "What are you gonna tell the nurse?" he asked, thinking about the fingerprints on the wall behind him.
"What do you want me to tell her?" Steve asked, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "That you tried to haul your own ass outta here and got caught?"
Pony frowned as Steve held out his hand. Pony took it and Steve pulled him up so fast he had to grab onto something to keep from falling over. That something was more of Steve who watched Pony wobble while giving him a sharp look.
Pony wasn't confident that he would have Steve for support so he swayed a bit more and then backed up against the wall waiting for everything around to stop spinning.
"Shoot kid, you ok?" He glared at him. Boy, Steve Randle had a mighty fine way of showing his concern. But for some reason, Pony felt like it was genuine, "You're in no shape to be out of bed."
Palms now flat on the surface behind him, Pony looked at Steve. "I'm fine. Are you going to tell my brothers about this?" He asked in a tone that somehow mixed listless and worried at the same time.
Pony swallowed hard and caught his breath for a moment, closing his eyes so when he opened them again things weren't so blurry. Steve was looking at him hard.
"I'm thinking maybe I should tell your brother," he clicked his tongue, wanting to comment on the fact that Pony could barely stand up straight but held his tongue.
"Just tell them the IV came out when I fell," he sighed.
"Yeah?" he glowered at him, "And what am I gonna tell them about the bloody fingerprints on the wall?" he asked, crossing his arms.
Pony tried to look behind him, but almost lost his balance from dizziness. Steve had to grab him under the elbow. "We'll clean it up before they get here," Pony said when he was finally stable. Steve let go of him and crossed his arms.
"Just tell 'em I fell…" Pony said.
"Yea they'll eat that up," Steve rolled his eyes. He waited for the kids to get his act together.
"You gonna move sometime today, grandma?" he asked.
"Just give me a minute," Pony said, but Steve didn't wait. He came over and put his arm around Ponyboy's bicep and told him to start putting one foot in front of the other.
"I don't need your help," Pony said warily, but you could hear in his voice how tired he was.
"Yes, you do," Steve grumbled, not letting go, "Man, you are so stubborn. Just take the help."
He did as he was told and they shuffled forward for a few seconds, but Ponyboy was super shaky on his legs.
"I'm just tired," Pony sighed again, as if Steve would buy that excuse, but it was the truth. But Steve eventually got fed up with the snail-like pace they were going and told Pony to put his arm across his shoulder. He did and Steve put his arm around his waist to keep him steady and that was the way they moved until Steve practically spilled him onto the edge of his bed.
"Man, if Soda could see us now," Pony murmured. Steve huffed out a wondered if Soda would kick his sorry ass for not being around when Pony got out of bed or cheer to see them getting along. Probably both.
. Feeling for the stiff mattress underneath him, he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Steve waited impatiently.
"Well, are you gonna get in?" Steve growled. Pony had some faraway daydreamy look in his eyes. "What are you looking at?" he asked, turning his head to look behind. There was nothing there.
"Steve?" Pony blurted out suddenly, leaning against the bed, "You think I could take a shower?"
Steve's face must have changed to three different colors. By the end of it all, Pony was wondering if he should have kept his mouth shut but it was too late. Could he blame it on the illness?
"A shower. You want a shower?" Steve smacked his head in disbelief, "You...you...Jesus fucking Christ, a shower…"
"What?" Pony looked at him innocently and perhaps a bit naively. "What'd I say?"
"Oh so you fancy a shower huh? Where you think you gonna take a shower, smart ass? You gonna walk there? Maybe ask a nurse for a ride? There ain't no showers in this room," he snapped.
"Ohh - I thought -" Pony bit his lip, realizing how stupid he sounded. "Yea, I know, it was a stupid idea," he said, looking down at the floor.
Steve looked at Pony.'s dark sunken eyes and the way his shoulders drooped as he sat on the bed. Then he closed his own eyes and gathered himself for a moment.
"Wait here," Steve snapped, pressing his hand against Pony's chest in a stop motion and pushing him to sit down on the bed. "Don't move!" he called, pointing his finger at the kid.
In his haze, Pony watched Steve go into the bathroom, wondering what the hell he was doing there.
Maybe he'd be able to talk to Soda later and have him convince Darry he was well enough to take a shower later. He knew he needed it and it was time, but deep down, he didn't think anyone would actually let him do it. Especially not the nurse. He was going to have a hard enough time convincing her he wasn't a mental case, having pulled his IV out.
Steve was back.
"You," he began, "are the luckiest man in the world right now." Pony gave him a funny he repeated himself. "It's your lucky day, man."
"What are you talking about?" Pony asked.
"I found a bucket and a washcloth," Steve said as if that made perfect sense.
Pony just looked at him wearily. He had no energy to figure out what Steve was talking about - he was dead-tired and running on empty.
"Wake up, man," Steve said, putting a hand on Pony's shoulder and shaking him a little, which actually kind of hurt. "You can't go to the showers, but I can fill up the bucket with water for you and you can use it in the bathroom to clean yourself off."
Realization had a hard time coming through to Pony, but when it did it hit him hard.
"You mean it?" Pony asked hopefully.
"Yeah," Steve responded, "Let's go." Before Pony knew what was happening, Steve was putting an arm around the middle of his back and lifting him up off the bed to drag his feet into the bathroom. Pony swung his arm across Steve's shoulders for support - he was pretty weak - and if anyone had been witness to their cartoonish little shuffle across the floor, they would think that Steve and Pony were old friends, instead of guys who most of the time couldn't stand each other.
When they got there, Steve dropped Pony onto the toilet and turned on the faucet to fill up the bucket with lukewarm water. It actually took Ponyboy quite a while to take his gown off - so much so that Steve eventually had to help him and it was better that he did anyway, as they had to pull it over the scar on the side of his head.
Pony was about to start pulling off his white briefs when Steve spoke up, "Uh, hold your horses there kid. I ain't touchin' your underwear. You can do the rest on your own. I'm steppin' outside. You got your rag here," he said, draping it over Pony's lap. "There's - uh - really only hand soap but you'll live. I'll be right outside. I think I saw the nurse putting some gowns away in a closet around here. I'm gonna get you one so you better make it fast. You got 5 minutes, no more," he said pointedly, "And If I knock on the door and I don't hear anything so help me God I"m comin' in here…"
"I get it," Pony said quietly.
"Don't get your head wet," There was that damn finger again, pointing at him. Pony sighed as Steve grabbed his own rag and closed the bathroom door probably harder than he should have.
Outside, he proceeded to rub off the fingerprints on the wall with some soap and water. Then he quickly found the cheaply made but neatly pressed hospital gowns folded in one of the closets and he grabbed a clean pair of Pony's briefs from the backpack of Pony's things that he and Two-Bit had brought the other day.
He kept to his word. Five minutes later, Steve was rapping on the door. "Ponyboy?" he called out, "You alright in there?" he asked, but then thought better of it, "You gonna be done soon man?"
"Yeah," Pony called out, "Give me a minute."
"You got one minute," Steve said. He looked at his watch. About a minute later, he knocked on the door again. "Ponyboy?"
"Yeah," Pony called out, "You can come in."
Steve opened the bathroom door. "You ok?" Steve asked, trying to remain blank although inwardly he sighed with relief. Pony was leaning back heavily against the toilet even though he was shirtless and it was probably cold. He had the towel Steve had remembered seeing in the bathroom draped over his privates and he was breathing a little heavier - Steve guessed he was probably pretty tired.
"Yea," Pony said, and you could tell that as weak as he sounded, his voice was just a little bit lighter, " My head hurts a bit, but I feel better."
"Great," Steve responded, "I hope you don't have a fever. We'll find out soon enough," he mused. "Here's your gown and your underwear," he said, handing them to him, "You don't need help getting them on right?"
"No, I got it," Pony replied, ears tinged red.
"Good," Steve said, already leaving, "I'll come back in a minute."
A minute later, he walked back in when Pony was struggling to put the gown over his head, so he offered a hand. He noticed that while Pony looked tired and pale there was something different about him. He almost seemed lighter, invigorated - was he pale or was he glowing?
"Alright," he said when Pony had the gown on, "you ready to get back to bed?"
"Yeah," Pony answered. Steve reached around his back again and lifted him up. Pony threw his hand over Steve's shoulder. This time, as they moved across the floor, Steve noticed the heaviness of Pony's limbs and how much more he leaned against him for support. Ponyboy was exhausted. It was obvious.
Pony almost fell once or twice and his legs were shaking by the end of the trip, but he collapsed gratefully into the bed once Steve let go. Steve helped him get situated and threw a blanket over him and Pony felt better than he had in days. But he still couldn't believe he was indebted to Steve Randle.
Once the blanket was on him, his eyelids weighed down heavily on his face.
"Hey!" Steve yelled out, shaking him roughly, "Don't go to sleep yet. We gotta get the nurse in here to put your IV back in. I'm calling her in," he said, about to press the call button.
Pony looked up at him, "Are you gonna tell her I tried to leave the room?" he asked, blood draining from his face, suddenly worried Steve would turn on him."What are my brothers gonna say?"
Steve paused for a moment. He knew he would get in deep trouble if the nurse found out Pony had tried to escape on his watch, had sat on that cold, hard floor for a good 15 minutes, and then cleaned himself up with Steve's help, even though Pony felt better because of it.
"Listen, you're Darry and Soda's kid brother, but I ain't gonna rat you out to them. And not to the nurse either," he started, "And I know you can keep your mouth shut good. We're just gonna tell 'em you fell."
XX
"Nice of you to show up, Two-Bit," Soda scoffed as he walked up to the passenger side door of Two-Bit's shiny black Plymouth, wiping his grease-covered hands with a rag. "I been waiting here for 20 minutes!"
"Hey, I aim to please," Two-Bit deadpanned dryly as he looked up at his friend from the driver's seat. "Whatta you got there, Sodapop?" he asked, "Ain't you ready to go?"
As if it was Soda's fault.
"I started messin' around with the tow truck again. Ain't nothing else to do around here, while I wait for your sorry ass to show up," Soda glowered, "I gotta get back to the hospital," he remarked, frowning, "Pony's waiting for me."
"Yea, I know, man, I'm sorry," Two-Bit replied, and he really did feel bad, "My car stalled on the way over here. It took me forever to get it started again. Shoot," he said, pulling out a cigarette and cracking a grin, "Know where I can find a good mechanic?"
Soda didn't have time for jokes.
"Is it running though? I don't have time to look at it now, you know that," he said.
"I made it here, didn't I?" he mused, "Thought I'd even have to get out and give it a pushstart."
"I would have paid big bucks to see that," Soda said, forcing a smile when he realized he was finally on his way to get back to his baby brother. and trying to get back to himself.
With his hands now clean, he threw the dirty rag off to the side, not bothering to pick it up off the floor.
"Think you could try to be early next time?" Soda teased as he flung the door open to the passenger seat and hopped in.
"Shoot, Sodapop," you know as well as I do that I'm NEVER EARLY!" Cackling, just as Soda slammed the door shut, Two-Bit pressed down hard on the accelerator and they sped off.
"So how's business?" Two-But asked as they maneuvered through town.
Soda gave him a look. "Business is slow," he said, "Nobody would be stupid enough to bring their car to get fixed in a blizzard. Wish my boss knew that," he muttered under his breath.
As they roared down the road, the Plymouth began to slip and slide on the street that obviously had not been plowed well. Two-Bit, who was a decent driver, despite maneuvering some beat-up vehicles in his time, tried his best to control it.
"Two-Bit, slow down!" Sodapop crooned, "You know the roads are still icy."
It didn't matter how fast they were going. In the next moment, the engine made a strange noise, lurched forward, and coughed more than once, like it was pushing out a foreign substance. .
Two-Bit and Soda looked at each other as the car slid and sputtered. Then, suddenly, the engine died, and the car came to a complete and abrupt stop.
Two-Bit let out a stream of curses and the blood drained from Soda's face.
They didn't even notice the police car that had pulled up quietly behind them, or the officer in a crisp blue uniform who stepped out, carrying a baton, hat pulled down low, and badge gleaming.
XX
Special thanks to Indianagreaser, Maranda W, A little jem
Reviews are welcome.