Prayers traveled up to the night sky, as comfort soothed the most desperate of hearts, making certain that truthful reassurances would prevail.


"Darry, I don't like being in here. It's not right."

Darry opened his parents' bedroom closet, as Soda hovered in the doorway. "You don't have to come in, little buddy. I've got it."

Soda took one step forward, eyes on his mom and dad's bed that was still made. He then fixed his gaze on Darry and went to stand beside him, looking in the open closet.

Darry turned to Soda, holding a dark blue tie that had belonged to their dad. He touched his brother's shoulder, seeing the dazed expression on his face. "Sodapop?"

Soda stared at his mom's bright yellow dress, almost drawn to reach out and touch it.

Darry leaned so he was in Soda's line of vision. "Come on, and let's go finish getting ready."

Soda blinked, before his eyes focused on the tie Darry had chosen for him. He reached for it, the silky material brushing against his fingers. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."


"What the hell is going on with him, Darry?"

Darry sighed heavily, as Pony followed him back outside, his youngest brother's question one that haunted him. "I think you said it best yourself already, Pone. He's depressed."

Pony sat down on the porch swing, as Darry stood against the railing. "But why? It's like he got shot and something else happened too. I was looking out the window when ya'll were out here, and I couldn't hear anything but Soda crying."

"Maybe he doesn't even need a reason, but I'm guessing there's more than one."

"When he came inside, I didn't even ask what was wrong cause I knew he wouldn't tell me much, if he told me anything at all."

"I'm glad he's talking to me. I can say that much. But the stuff he was saying, I sure never would've expected to hear."

"Darry, is Soda- is he still talking about dying?"

"No, Pony. It wasn't anything like that. I think he just really needed me to remind him that no matter how he feels or what hurts, some things can never change."


A number was dialed, words exchanged, and an open time slot filled, even as his middle brother's pleas still echoed in Darry's ears. You have to do this, little buddy, he thought. It's the only way I know to help you.


Are all these people going to want to talk to us?"

Darry slipped an arm around Pony's shoulders, as they stood by the door to the small chapel. "Most of them, Pone. But it's okay. All you've gotta do is be polite."

Soda stood on Pony's other side, his eyes barely seeing the gathered friends and relatives, as he looked at the two open caskets at the front. "Do we have to go up there, Dar?"

Darry followed Soda's gaze, the caskets and what they held already a familiar sight for him. "No. But I think you're going to want to soon, little buddy. You'll want to see them."

Pony looked around at the people there for the impending service and burial, many he knew and some he'd never seen before. "So what now? Can we sit down?"

Darry kept an arm around each of his brothers, as he started to lead them to the front of the chapel. "We can. That first row is for us."

Soda stared at the caskets that were now mere feet in front of them, as he sat down on the wooden pew. Looking around, he saw Steve and TwoBit standing with Mr. Randle and Mrs. Matthews.

Steve made his way over to the three brothers, with TwoBit beside him. He eyed the empty seat right behind his best friend.

Darry nodded at Steve, seeing the question on his face. "Sit there, Steve. You and TwoBit both. Johnny too. And Dal, if he's coming."

Steve silently settled behind Soda, as TwoBit moved around him to sit behind Darry.

Soda turned his head to look at Steve, then at TwoBit. "Did you guys- did you go up there and see them?"

TwoBit replied first, as he put his hand on Pony's shoulder. "Yeah. We did."

Soda looked at both caskets again, before turning to Darry. "I want to now, Dar, but not by myself. Can you please come?"

Darry nodded and squeezed Soda's shoulder, as he looked at Pony. "You want to come with us, Pone? It might help you to see them."

Pony hesitated, before he answered, but shared a look with Soda that made up his mind. "Okay."

Steve sat back against the pew, arms crossed over his chest, as he saw the Curtis brothers make their way toward the bodies of their parents. "I can't believe any of this, man."

TwoBit nodded in agreement, his eyes welling with the tears that he'd become reacquainted with in the last few days. "I can't either."

Steve held back the tears he wanted to cry, as he shared a look with his dad, then saw Soda lean close to his mother's body. "Damn. I can't just sit here and watch."

Soda could hear Darry whispering to Pony, as he touched his mother's cold hand. He stared at her face with the permanently closed eyes, then at the lace-trimmed green dress she wore. I can't, he thought. I can't do this.

Steve was standing behind Soda when his best friend backed right into him.

Soda turned around, as he felt Steve's tight grip on his shoulder. "Stevie, I want to see my dad too, but I- I can't."

Steve looked over at the casket that held Mr. Curtis, as he put a hand on Soda's other shoulder and met his eyes. "Then, go see him, buddy. Darry and Pony are right here. And I'm staying with you too."

Soda looked down at the floor, tears gathered in his eyes, suddenly aware of the looks from around the room, of people watching him and his brothers. "I don't want to break down with everyone looking at me, Steve."

Steve glared at no one in particular, knowing there was nothing but sympathy in the gathered crowd. "It's fine if you do, buddy. Nobody would blame you. But if you want, you can see your dad, then me and you will split for a few minutes, before the preacher starts talking."

Soda nodded, as he started toward his dad's body, where Pony stood with his hands touching the soft white lining of the casket.

Pony was staring at his dad's face when he felt Soda's arms wrap around him. "How can it be Dad, Soda? How can it be either of them just laying here like this?"

Soda looked at his dad, who wore a light blue dress shirt and black slacks, hands folded over his middle. "I don't know, Pone. But you know it's really not them, right? It ain't Mom and Dad here. They're with God, like Mom used to always talk to us about."

Pony leaned against his middle brother, as he put one of his hands over Darrel Sr.'s. "Yeah. That's true."

Soda touched his dad's shoulder, as he looked over at Darry, who was beside their mom's casket. His eyes met those of his big brother, knowing he was the only one who could easily see the tears Darry would never let fall in front of anyone else, but Soda himself.

Darry swallowed hard and blinked his eyes, moving them from Soda back to Elaine Curtis. He kissed her forehead, the skin cold against his lips, before he whispered to her. "I love you, Mom. I promise I'll take care of them for you and for Dad."


"Hey there, Steve. I didn't know you were coming over."

Steve heard Samuel's greeting, as he made his way up the preacher's porch steps. "I, uh, I've been wanting to since I heard about- about what happened."

Samuel stepped outside, letting the front door close behind him. He saw how Steve's eyes wouldn't look up at him and touched his arm. "I'm glad you're here."

Steve lifted his gaze up to meet Samuel's. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you."

"Are you okay?"

Samuel sighed, as he settled his arm around Steve's shoulders. "Not really. It's been a very hard few days."

Steve wrapped both arms around Samuel, hugging him in genuine sympathy and in response to all he himself had felt in the past several days.

Samuel didn't hesitate to hug Steve back, sensing the heaviness in the boy's spirit. "Are you okay, Steve?"

Steve rested his head on Samuel's shoulder, not yet letting go. "I'm not sure, preacher guy. I'm not sure at all."


"Darry, I told you not to do that! Why did you?"

Darry, having anticipated this response from Soda, put his hands on each of his brother's shoulders. "Because you need it. I have to do something, little buddy. I can't let you keep hurting like you are, if there's someone who could help."

Soda, no fight left in him at the moment, hung his head. "But I told you please don't call, Dar. I said I'd do better."

"I know, Sodapop. I heard you. I heard everything you said to me last night. You keep changing your mind about this, but I have to try to get you to do what's best. You know this is a good idea, or you wouldn't have come to me about it."

"When's the appointment?"

"Next Wednesday at eleven in the morning."

"I really don't want to go, Dar. I don't. Please cancel it. I can do better. I know I can."

"Soda, look at me." Darry paused, as Soda's eyes met his own. "There's nothing for you to do better, little buddy. You're not in trouble or anything like that. She's just a doctor. It'll be okay. I promise."


"Come this way, man. There ain't anyone around here."

Soda followed Steve around a corner and into a corridor that separated the chapel from the main part of the funeral home. He leaned against the wall, as he sank down to the carpet, letting the tears begin to fall freely. "I know it's a funeral, and it's my parents. So everyone expects me to cry, but-"

Steve heard his best friend start to sob and sat down close to his side. "I know, buddy. I understand. You don't gotta explain anything to me, Sodapop."

"Seeing them like that is making it real, Stevie. And I don't want it to be real."

Steve laid a hand on Soda's back, rubbing gently as he cried. "I know it's hard, man."

Soda looked at Steve, tears falling down his cheeks, as he spoke in a choked voice. "I hope they knew I loved them."

Steve gripped the back of Soda's shirt, as his own tear-filled eyes watched for any sign of another person's presence. "They knew, buddy. They knew."

"I hope they know I still love them, that I always will."

Screw this, Steve thought, as he put his arms around Soda. "They do know." He squeezed his best friend tight, the urge to comfort him only gaining strength. "Your mom and dad will always know that you and your brothers will love them forever."


"I shouldn't be dumping all this on you. You're going through enough."

Samuel leaned forward in the rocking chair, scooting close to the edge of it, as he spoke to Steve. "You're not dumping anything on me, Steve. Yes, my wife and I are going through a very difficult loss right now. But that doesn't mean you can't still talk to me."

Steve sat in the chair beside Samuel and looked at the preacher's eyes that were so intently staring back at him. "Are you sure?"

"Completely sure. You can still tell me anything. It's only been a week since we last saw each other, but it feels like a lot longer. What's been going on?"

"I know Soda talked to you about stuff. He told me some of it too."

"Yeah. I believe most of what he told me that day you already knew anyway."

"He's not good right now, preacher guy. Sometimes, it seems like he gets worse everyday."

"What do you mean worse? What's been happening lately?"

"On Friday night, we talked for hours because he felt so much like hurting himself. I know he already told you about feeling that way."

"Yeah. He did."

"Man, I was so scared that night, but relieved too, you know? Cause he was telling me about it and not actually doing anything he was talking about. But still, he sounded too much like he could try to kill himself."

"The two of you are both so blessed to have each other, Steve."

"Yeah, I know we are. Everything he was feeling that night, it was so scary and real hard to listen to. But when I think about it now, I get how he could feel like he wants to die. It's not hard to see where that would come from, even though I sure wish Soda never had to suffer with those kinds of feelings."

"So where do you think it comes from then?"

"I ain't even sure how much I should say cause, you know, it's Soda, and we talk about a lot of stuff with each other that we don't with anyone else. I don't ever want to hurt that trust."

"You won't, Steve. Because that's not the kind of friend you are. You don't even have to tell me what Sodapop said to explain what you're thinking."

"No, I guess I really don't." Steve closed his eyes for a moment, his mind easily drifting back to the words Soda had spoken to him, the pain he'd revealed within the security of their friendship. "This is not something I ever thought Soda would feel, but once, my doctor asked me if I ever felt worthless. He was trying to decide if I might be at risk for hurting myself again. I said no cause I didn't feel that way. But Soda does now. And he just sounded so...hopeless. I could hear that in everything he said to me all night. With all that going on inside, it's no wonder he could see dying as a way to escape from the pain."


"I'm done talking about this for right now, Sodapop."

Soda huffed out a breath at Darry's words that had interrupted his protests. "I'm eighteen, Dar. It's my choice to go to a doctor or not."

Darry leaned against the kitchen counter, ignoring the slight pain still in his back from the previous day's pulled muscle, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't even start that, little buddy. None of this is about how old you are. I called because you asked me to call."

"But then, I told you don't! I almost begged you last night, Darry!"

"Because you were so upset, Sodapop. I don't even know what you were sitting there thinking about, before I came outside, but whatever it was had you damn near falling apart right there on the porch. You were breaking my heart, asking me why I love you. It's breaking my heart everyday to see you hurting when I can't do a damn thing to fix it."

Soda took a step back from Darry, as his gaze dropped to the floor, eyes staring at the brown and white tile.

"So please, little buddy. Stop fightin' so hard. Keep the appointment. I'll be right there with you, and it'll be fine."


Soda watched his mother's closed casket being lowered into the hole in the cold ground that would soon become her grave. He felt Darry wrap an arm around him and laid his head on his big brother's shoulder, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

The casket dropped lower and lower into the ground until the brothers could no longer see it. As shovels began to complete the burial, Soda's gaze shifted away from the scene unfolding in front of him. He looked up at Darry, seeing that his older brother now stood as still as a statue, not a single tear presently visible on his face.


"What is it, Sodapop? What's wrong?"

Soda took another step back from Darry, his eyes wide in shock, as nausea settled in his stomach.

Darry stared at Soda, seeing that his middle brother's face was nearly ashen. "Sodapop, talk to me, little buddy."

Soda's eyes locked with Darry's concerned gaze, before he rushed out of the kitchen. He made it to the toilet just in time for the latest pang of nausea to make his stomach empty itself.

Darry entered the bathroom to the sound of vomiting. He took a wash cloth from a stack in the cabinet and ran cool water over it, before he crouched down beside Soda.

Soda felt the cloth touch the skin on his neck, as he threw up one more time. He then closed his eyes, resting his head on the toilet seat.

Darry moved the wet cloth to Soda's face, letting it gently touch his little brother's cheeks and forehead. "You going to be okay now?"

Soda lifted a hand to touch the cloth, his eyes opening, as he pressed it against his face. "I don't know, Dar. Sorry for fightin' you about this."

"It's okay. That's not why you got sick, is it?"

"No, that ain't why."

"Did it happen like that a couple of days ago too? It seemed to come out of nowhere."

"No. My stomach hurt for a while before."

"You turned about as white as a sheet, little buddy."

"I'll go, Darry. I'll go to the appointment, and I won't argue about it anymore." Soda lifted his head up, still holding the wet cloth in his hands, as he looked at his brother. "Cause the last thing I ever want to do is break your heart."


Soda remained close to Darry, as shovels began scooping up the dirt to bury their father's casket that had just been lowered into the ground next to their mother's. He lifted his head from his older brother's shoulder to see Pony, who stood on Darry's other side.

Soda reached for him, then felt Pony's hand in his own. He held onto it, determined to never let it slip out of his grasp.


"Relax, little buddy. You're okay now."

Soda lay his head down on one of the couch pillows, focusing on the sound of Darry's voice, as an ache twisted his stomach. "Darry, where's Pony? He should be home by now."

Darry sat on the edge of the couch near Soda's feet, then draped the blanket he held over him. "He had track practice. He'll be home soon."

"But what if he's not?"

"He will be. He's always kind of late on Wednesday's."

"Have I been breaking his heart too?"

Darry put his hand on Soda's arm that was covered with the blanket. "I shouldn't have said that to you, little buddy. Not when I know how you've been feeling lately."

"You should if it's true, Dar. I want to know if I hurt you guys. So I can tell you I'm sorry."

"But, like I said the other night, you're not hurting anyone. We just hurt with you. You're the kindest, most understanding person I've ever known, Sodapop. So I know you know what that's like, and you'd never want somebody who's in pain to blame themselves."

"I keep doing it though. I feel guilty for all kinds of stuff. Steve tells me it's just a feeling, and I didn't do anything wrong. Cause he's felt a lot of guilt too. He still does sometimes."

"I've felt it too, little buddy. You know that. I think, a lot of the time, it's just part of being human."


"I'm not thinking about it anymore, Dad. It's not like before."

Nicholas rinsed the soapy dishes in the sink, as he spoke to Steve. "Okay, Son. I guess it just worried me because I know what that's done to you in the past, and it wasn't too long ago."

Steve finished tying his shoe, before grabbing a towel and beginning to dry the clean dishes. "I know. I guess maybe it worried me too, and that's why I told you about it. But I don't have the guilt that I did anymore. Her death wasn't about me."

"No, Son. It sure wasn't."

"And you know what else, Dad? The abuse, what she chose to do, that wasn't about me either."


Soda dropped to his knees in front of the two fresh graves, the ground around them blanketed by white snow. He touched the dirt that covered his mom's grave, his fingers brushing over the place where she'd been laid to rest.

Steve saw Darry, Pony, and Johnny talking to each other beside Darry's pick-up truck, as Dallas' retreating back headed in any direction that would lead him far from the cemetery. Hands in his pockets, Steve went over to where Soda was on the section of ground that now separated him from the bodies of two beloved parents.

Soda's hand was touching the dirt that made up his father's grave when he saw Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Hey."

Steve knelt on the ground beside Soda, his eyes looking at the graves of two people he knew had been there for him as well. "I wish I knew the right thing to say, buddy."

"There ain't anything to say, Stevie."

Steve put a hand on Soda's back, as he looked over at him. "Maybe not. So I guess I'll just keep being here."


"He called her, Stevie. Darry called Dr. Morgan's office earlier."

Steve lit a cigarette and took a drag off it, before he replied to Soda. "Good, buddy. So you got an appointment?"

Soda nodded from his place on the porch swing, as he sipped on ginger ale. "Yeah."

Steve leaned on the porch rail, blowing smoke into the evening air. "When is it?"

"Next Wednesday morning."

"What time?"

"Darry said 11:00."

"I'll stop by there at lunch time, okay?"

"You don't have to do that, Steve."

"Of course I don't. I don't have to do anything. But I want to, man. So just let it be."

"I told Darry I'd go, but I ain't really all right with it. I'm trying to be though."

"I get it, buddy. I know you've got a lot of shit going on inside that's making you feel out of sorts."

"That's one way of puttin' it."

Steve nodded toward the bottle of ginger ale in Soda's hand. "You get sick again today?"

"Yeah. Just a little while ago. In front of Darry this time."

"What'd Superman say about it?"

"He just wondered what happened because it was real sudden. We were talking, and he said I turned white."

"What were you talking about?"

"I was being a pain in the ass cause he called and made the appointment."

"But you said you asked him to do it."

"I did. But last night, I told him don't. I damn near begged him not to call."

"But, of course, he did it anyway."

"Yeah. And I wouldn't get off his back about it. Even when he said he was done talking, I didn't drop it. He got real frustrated and told me it's breaking his heart to see me hurting when he can't fix it."

"It's a big deal when Darry admits something like that, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It hit me real hard to hear him say it. It made me feel bad, and then I got nauseous."

Steve took one last drag off his cigarette, before putting it out and tossing it over the railing. "Sodapop, I know I didn't really ask before, but do you know what made you sick those other times too? I mean, it's obviously stress and stuff, but do you know exactly why it started happening when it did?"

Soda looked from Steve to the bottle of ginger ale, seeing the fizzy liquid inside that had helped settle his upset stomach. "Um, I mean, no. I don't- I don't think so."

Steve moved away from the porch railing to sit on the swing beside Soda. "I'm not going to push you to tell me about it, buddy. I'm just wondering if you do know."

Soda felt his mouth go dry, then took a few swallows of the ginger ale. "Yeah. I know. I know why I started getting sick."

"That's probably a good thing. Maybe if you understand the reason, it'll help."

"It ain't anything you don't kind of already know about, Stevie."

Steve put an arm around Soda, giving him a squeeze, as he looked toward the front yard and his car that was parked in the driveway behind Darry's truck. "I know it's not your thing. It wasn't mine either. But I think I know something that could help."

Soda leaned his head on Steve's shoulder. "What?"

"Write it down, buddy. Whatever there is you can't say, put it on paper."

"You did that, right?"

"Sure did. Because, as much stuff as I had shared, I just wasn't ready to say it all outloud yet. I think writing it down helped me get there though."

"But what if I never want to say it outloud anyway?"

"Still. Write it down. Something about that helps, man. I'm serious. Especially since it's bothering you this much. At least then, it'll be somewhere besides just in your head."


"Hey, Soda?"

Soda heard a knock on his bedroom door and looked up from the blank sheet of paper to see Pony. "Yeah, Pone?"

Pony closed the door, then went over to where Soda sat on the bed, seeing him put the paper and a pencil on top of the nightstand. "Could I sleep in here with you tonight?"

"If you want. But you don't have to. I ain't having those dreams all the time anymore."

"I know you're not. But I guess it's something I can do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't know what else I can do to help. Even though I want to. It's something I can do when I don't know another way to be here for you."


"Hey, Sodapop. Wake up."

Soda felt someone shaking his shoulder, and his eyes popped open to see Darry next to him. "Hmm? What is it, Dar?"

Darry stood awake and dressed for the day, as his middle brother stretched and yawned, still in bed beside a sleeping Ponyboy. "I have to go to work. I told Mr. Sanders I could start early this morning."

"Already? Me and Pony don't gotta go to school yet, do we?"

"No. Not yet. You both can wait til Monday. But I've got to start bringing in money."

"What time will you be home?"

"Probably around 4:00 or 4:30."

"Okay."

Darry's gaze moved to their youngest brother. "Keep an eye on Pony."

"I will."

Darry started to leave the room, as his gaze then moved back to Soda. "Don't sleep too late, little buddy."

"I won't, Dar."

"And Sodapop?"

Soda turned over, seeing Darry pause in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I can't have either of you getting in any trouble. So clean up the house, and you damn well better behave yourselves."


Soda lie awake, despite the fresh air that came through his open window. He sat up in bed, seeing Pony sound asleep beside him, no trace of the nightmares that used to plague him.

Soda looked around the room, images of the past and those of taunting temptation filling up the darkness. He scooted closer to the window sill, the sensation of the cool air a soothing reminder that life didn't always hurt.

Turning away from the window, Soda reached over Pony to grab the paper and pencil he'd left on the nightstand earlier. He stared at the blank page of blue lines for a moment, before pressing it down on the edge of the sill and beginning to write the words he couldn't bring himself to speak.