(Soda)

"You're home early," Darry commented as I came in the door.

"Steve was coming on, so I requested a shift change," I mumbled. My brother raised his eyes but knew better than to comment. "Where's Ponyboy?"

"Sleeping."

"What're you doing?"

Darry gestured to the papers surrounding him. "Reading Ponyboy's English theme."

"Didn't he turn that in ages ago?"

"Yeah, but he asked me to read it now."

"What for?"

My older brother shrugged. "It's about us. You and me and the gang. And everything that happened before this."

I swallowed, hard. "Is it good?"

He nodded slowly. "It's amazing. I guess.....him being so quiet and all....I just didn't realize some of what he went through."

I nodded; I knew him a lot better, although recently Darry and Ponyboy had been closer than ever, closer than after Pony first came home after Windrixville. I headed back to our room without a word, wanting to see my younger brother. We'd been sitting with him a lot lately, wanting to be near him when he woke up. He'd had a couple panic attacks, but generally he was too drugged to even really understand what was going on.

My younger brother was balled up on the bed, the covers bunched under his chin. I kicked off my shoes and lay down beside him, watching him sleep. His hair was growing back in soft, light, curly tufts. His hair had never been curly before, but he doctor's had said it was normal. An effect of the chemo.

Pony whimpered and shifted suddenly. I wondered if he was having another panic attack and moved closer to him.

"Shh, Ponyboy, wake up."

"Soda?" he whimpered, "did you kill a Soc to?"

"What?"

"Johnny didn't mean to.." he mumbled. My eyes suddenly stung with tears. He was slipping away, fast, faster than ever, and there was nothing I could do to save him.

"Pony, you're home," I soothed, slipping an arm over him. "All that's done with. You're safe now. You're with me."

"Stay...."

"I will."

My brother sighed, closing his eyes again, then shuddered violently. "Oh Soda.....I'm so cold...."

I fought my tears back and pulled him closer. He was so light, light enough that I could rest his head on my shoulder and hug him with both arms without feeling any pain from his body on top of my arm. I held him tight, pulling the blanket higher up. "It's okay, Pon," I murmured. "It's okay, honey."

He closed his eyes, his face pressed to my chest. I couldn't hold my tears in.

He's dieing, I thought, agony ripping my chest. My kid brother's really dieing.

Pony opened his eyes slightly. "Don't cry," he whispered. "Don't be sad..I don't want you to change Soda....when I'm gone, don't change...stay good...because I've always loved you for that...."

"Shutup," I begged, sobbing now. "Pony, please don't talk like that......please don't go...."

His breathing was raspy and wheezy. He coughed, hard, and my shirt was suddenly red.

"Pony...."

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'll still love you.....Soda, don't be sad.......please don't be sad....."

I rested my chin on the top of his head and bawled. "Don't," I begged, "don't, for Christ's sake don't...."

"Don't stop living," he whispered, dropping away, fast.

"Don't!" I shouted now. "I love you, I need you, Pony for God's sake don't do this to me again...."

But his head fell limply to my shoulder, and he slept soundly. Too soundly.

"Darry!" I screamed, hysterical as I realized that my little brother was no longer breathing.