(Pony)
I'm gonna be sick, I'm gonna be sick, sicksicksicksick
I couldn't move, I felt so nauseous. I turned my head and felt bile rush to my throat. I coughed it down, tasting blood. I tried to say Soda's name and only moaned. It was pitch dark; I couldn't see the clock, so I didn't know what time it was. But it had to be past eleven, because Soda was fast asleep with his arm across me.
I had to try to do something before I vomited in bed, so I leaned over the edge, spotted the trashcan, grabbed it and pulled it to me just in time. I coughed, vomited again. Soda leapt up beside me and flicked the light on. I struggled to catch my breath before more bile rushed to my throat.
"Easy, buddy, easy," my brother murmured, crawling over to my side of the bed. He stayed by me, rubbing my back and shoulders, brushing the hair back from my eyes.
I'd never been so sick in my life. Darry heard us after awhile and came in to bring me a bowl and take the trashcan away. Soda did his best to steady me, but I couldn't control vomit after vomit. Darry brought in a washcloth and a glass of water and made me take tiny sips whenever I had a few minutes of peace, but they were few and far between, and as soon as the water hit my stomach I'd start right back up again.
By the time it was over we were all exhausted.
"Don't y'all have to go to work tomorrow?" I mumbled as Darry wiped sweat off my face off with the washcloth and Soda went to clean out the bowl.
"Yeah. Will you be all right by yourself?"
"'Guess so."
"I don't like leaving you..."
"It's okay," I murmured, closing my eyes. "You need to go." I couldn't say much else. Darry urged me to drink more water, but I was afraid I wouldn't even be able to hold that down.
"About the hospital...you ain't mad, are you?" my older brother asked me. I opened my eyes, because it was rare for Darry to show his feelings, yet alone for us to discuss them.
"It's okay," I urged him. My voice was awful weak. "You're doing a good job."
"At what?"
I had to close my eyes again. "Helping me," I sighed. Darry didn't answer, just sponged my face off with the washcloth a few more times, until Soda came back in.
"You all right now, Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked, flopping down beside me. I just nodded and tried to grin.
"You still wanna share a bed with me?"
Soda smiled. "Not if you hurl on me. But you ain't done that yet, so I guess it's okay. For now," he warned, but I knew he was joking.
"I'm gonna head back to bed," Darry said, gathering the glass and the washcloth. I thanked him weakly, then pulled the covers up to my shoulder. Soda tossed an arm around me and yawned.
"Holler if you're gonna be sick again," he murmured.
Will I be? Night after night now, treatment after treatment? This was only my first one. The weeks ahead were filled with these. I shivered, feeling queasy again.
"You cold?" my brother mumbled.
"Kinda."
Soda moved closer to me, and I closed my eyes. I'm safe for now, I thought. Concentrate on now. Concentrate on getting through tonight. Don't think about the weeks ahead, or even tomorrow. Don't...
I started coughing, swallowing down the liquid that shot to my throat, my blood, which made me feel sick all over again.
"Damn it," I moaned, suddenly more miserable than ever. Soda sighed beside me, and I felt awfully guilty, knowing he had to work and all.
"You okay?" my brother asked me.
"I guess so. Soda?"
"Hmm?"
"You don't have to stay in here, if you don't want."
"Do you want me to go?"
"No. But I'm keepin' you up. And if I'm gonna be like this for awhile..."
"Don't worry about it, kiddo. If I get too tired than Darry and I will trade off staying with you. Okay? But we ain't gonna leave you alone."
I sighed, already falling asleep, but relieved. I can do this, I thought, as long as I'm not alone. I will do this. My brothers won't let me go.
"Thanks," I murmured, but the word didn't seem enough.
I'm gonna be sick, I'm gonna be sick, sicksicksicksick
I couldn't move, I felt so nauseous. I turned my head and felt bile rush to my throat. I coughed it down, tasting blood. I tried to say Soda's name and only moaned. It was pitch dark; I couldn't see the clock, so I didn't know what time it was. But it had to be past eleven, because Soda was fast asleep with his arm across me.
I had to try to do something before I vomited in bed, so I leaned over the edge, spotted the trashcan, grabbed it and pulled it to me just in time. I coughed, vomited again. Soda leapt up beside me and flicked the light on. I struggled to catch my breath before more bile rushed to my throat.
"Easy, buddy, easy," my brother murmured, crawling over to my side of the bed. He stayed by me, rubbing my back and shoulders, brushing the hair back from my eyes.
I'd never been so sick in my life. Darry heard us after awhile and came in to bring me a bowl and take the trashcan away. Soda did his best to steady me, but I couldn't control vomit after vomit. Darry brought in a washcloth and a glass of water and made me take tiny sips whenever I had a few minutes of peace, but they were few and far between, and as soon as the water hit my stomach I'd start right back up again.
By the time it was over we were all exhausted.
"Don't y'all have to go to work tomorrow?" I mumbled as Darry wiped sweat off my face off with the washcloth and Soda went to clean out the bowl.
"Yeah. Will you be all right by yourself?"
"'Guess so."
"I don't like leaving you..."
"It's okay," I murmured, closing my eyes. "You need to go." I couldn't say much else. Darry urged me to drink more water, but I was afraid I wouldn't even be able to hold that down.
"About the hospital...you ain't mad, are you?" my older brother asked me. I opened my eyes, because it was rare for Darry to show his feelings, yet alone for us to discuss them.
"It's okay," I urged him. My voice was awful weak. "You're doing a good job."
"At what?"
I had to close my eyes again. "Helping me," I sighed. Darry didn't answer, just sponged my face off with the washcloth a few more times, until Soda came back in.
"You all right now, Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked, flopping down beside me. I just nodded and tried to grin.
"You still wanna share a bed with me?"
Soda smiled. "Not if you hurl on me. But you ain't done that yet, so I guess it's okay. For now," he warned, but I knew he was joking.
"I'm gonna head back to bed," Darry said, gathering the glass and the washcloth. I thanked him weakly, then pulled the covers up to my shoulder. Soda tossed an arm around me and yawned.
"Holler if you're gonna be sick again," he murmured.
Will I be? Night after night now, treatment after treatment? This was only my first one. The weeks ahead were filled with these. I shivered, feeling queasy again.
"You cold?" my brother mumbled.
"Kinda."
Soda moved closer to me, and I closed my eyes. I'm safe for now, I thought. Concentrate on now. Concentrate on getting through tonight. Don't think about the weeks ahead, or even tomorrow. Don't...
I started coughing, swallowing down the liquid that shot to my throat, my blood, which made me feel sick all over again.
"Damn it," I moaned, suddenly more miserable than ever. Soda sighed beside me, and I felt awfully guilty, knowing he had to work and all.
"You okay?" my brother asked me.
"I guess so. Soda?"
"Hmm?"
"You don't have to stay in here, if you don't want."
"Do you want me to go?"
"No. But I'm keepin' you up. And if I'm gonna be like this for awhile..."
"Don't worry about it, kiddo. If I get too tired than Darry and I will trade off staying with you. Okay? But we ain't gonna leave you alone."
I sighed, already falling asleep, but relieved. I can do this, I thought, as long as I'm not alone. I will do this. My brothers won't let me go.
"Thanks," I murmured, but the word didn't seem enough.