A/N: I've gotten a couple semi-harsh reviews about Ponyboy dieing. All I'm
going to say is that this is my story. If it's too much than don't read it.
Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive; this definitely does not
apply to everyone. Thanks to everyone who does and who reviews.
(Two-bit)
I hung up from calling Steve and paced the hospital anxiously. Ponyboy was lying in bed with an oxygen mask, but they had already told us point blank that they weren't going to try to save him.
Sodapop had been hysterical when I reached the hospital; Darry had called me as soon as they'd gotten there.
"I'll save him!" Soda had screamed as Darry fought to keep him from tackling the doctor telling them that this was it for their brother. "I'll rip those Godamned things out of his lungs myself! I'll MAKE him live, for Christ's sake, this just can't be happening..........."
But it is, I thought, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers as I entered Pony's room. Soda was sitting in a chair clutching his younger brother's hand so hard that his knuckles were white. Darry was oddly calm; he stood there stroking the soft tufts of hair that had slowly begun to grow back over his brother's bald head.
"Can he hear?" I whispered, unsure why.
"Yes," Soda said at the same time Darry sighed "Probably not."
"He aint' dead, Dar!" Sodapop snapped at his brother's negative answer. Darry stared at his brother sympathetically.
"I doubt he can hear, Soda," he murmured.
"He can," Soda maintained stubbornly, tightening his grip on his kid brother's hand. "He ain't going yet."
Darry and I exchanged nervous glances. "He's ready to," Darry said gently.
"SHUTUP!" Soda exploded, something so out of character that I jumped back away from him. "He's fourteen Darry, barely fourteen, he ain't ready to die! He's still got time, you'll see, you've always doubted him....."
"Soda," I broke in, surprised by the tenderness of my voice. "It's okay. None of us wanted this to happen to Ponyboy, but it has."
Soda just set his jaw and turned away, still holding fast to his brother's hand. Darry moved slowly around the bed to his healthy younger brother, gently slid his hands over his shoulders and squeezed hard. I saw Soda slump, miserable, and his shoulders begin to tremble beneath his older brother's strong hands. I felt out of place with the Curtis'; this was something they had to go through alone. But I wanted to be there for Pony, even though I couldn't help him.
"He ain't dead yet," Soda said, stubbornly holding onto his brother. "He ain't gonna die yet."
"Soda," Darry murmured, "there's nothing else we can do. It ain't right to make him stay here in pain."
"He ain't in pain."
Darry and I exchanged worried glances; Sodapop was going to take this harder than we thought. A lot harder.
"Hey y'all?"
All three of us spun around to stare at Steve, who had entered the room unnoticed. Darry and I nodded politely, but Soda leapt to his feet, enraged.
"What are you doing here?" he shouted at his best friend. "You come to watch him die? Well, you're out of luck. I'll throw you out so help me Christ, you ain't gonna hurt my brother!"
"I didn't come to hurt him," he pleaded, taking a step closer to Soda. "He's my friend, Soda. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know how else to say it. I came here to tell you........and to see him......." He stared at the youngest Curtis, so still and pale on the bed, frozen. "Can he hear?"
"We don't know," Darry said carefully.
"It don't matter. You ain't goin' near him," Soda snapped, slowly advancing. I stepped forward and seized his shoulders.
"Easy, Sodapop......"
"Don't tell me to take it easy! He ain't got any business coming here!"
"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Steve begged, "to him and you. Please just let me........"
We were all interrupted as Ponyboy coughed, over and over, violently. We turned, hopeful that he was conscious, but no such luck; it was just his body's reaction to the blood that must have been filling his decomposing lungs. Soda rushed back to his brother's side, talking in a low voice although we all knew that he could no longer hear us.
Dark red
(like that day in gym)
spewed from his lips
(collapsing on the floor)
And to our horror one of the three monitors---lung, heart, brain---went flat.
(Two-bit)
I hung up from calling Steve and paced the hospital anxiously. Ponyboy was lying in bed with an oxygen mask, but they had already told us point blank that they weren't going to try to save him.
Sodapop had been hysterical when I reached the hospital; Darry had called me as soon as they'd gotten there.
"I'll save him!" Soda had screamed as Darry fought to keep him from tackling the doctor telling them that this was it for their brother. "I'll rip those Godamned things out of his lungs myself! I'll MAKE him live, for Christ's sake, this just can't be happening..........."
But it is, I thought, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers as I entered Pony's room. Soda was sitting in a chair clutching his younger brother's hand so hard that his knuckles were white. Darry was oddly calm; he stood there stroking the soft tufts of hair that had slowly begun to grow back over his brother's bald head.
"Can he hear?" I whispered, unsure why.
"Yes," Soda said at the same time Darry sighed "Probably not."
"He aint' dead, Dar!" Sodapop snapped at his brother's negative answer. Darry stared at his brother sympathetically.
"I doubt he can hear, Soda," he murmured.
"He can," Soda maintained stubbornly, tightening his grip on his kid brother's hand. "He ain't going yet."
Darry and I exchanged nervous glances. "He's ready to," Darry said gently.
"SHUTUP!" Soda exploded, something so out of character that I jumped back away from him. "He's fourteen Darry, barely fourteen, he ain't ready to die! He's still got time, you'll see, you've always doubted him....."
"Soda," I broke in, surprised by the tenderness of my voice. "It's okay. None of us wanted this to happen to Ponyboy, but it has."
Soda just set his jaw and turned away, still holding fast to his brother's hand. Darry moved slowly around the bed to his healthy younger brother, gently slid his hands over his shoulders and squeezed hard. I saw Soda slump, miserable, and his shoulders begin to tremble beneath his older brother's strong hands. I felt out of place with the Curtis'; this was something they had to go through alone. But I wanted to be there for Pony, even though I couldn't help him.
"He ain't dead yet," Soda said, stubbornly holding onto his brother. "He ain't gonna die yet."
"Soda," Darry murmured, "there's nothing else we can do. It ain't right to make him stay here in pain."
"He ain't in pain."
Darry and I exchanged worried glances; Sodapop was going to take this harder than we thought. A lot harder.
"Hey y'all?"
All three of us spun around to stare at Steve, who had entered the room unnoticed. Darry and I nodded politely, but Soda leapt to his feet, enraged.
"What are you doing here?" he shouted at his best friend. "You come to watch him die? Well, you're out of luck. I'll throw you out so help me Christ, you ain't gonna hurt my brother!"
"I didn't come to hurt him," he pleaded, taking a step closer to Soda. "He's my friend, Soda. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know how else to say it. I came here to tell you........and to see him......." He stared at the youngest Curtis, so still and pale on the bed, frozen. "Can he hear?"
"We don't know," Darry said carefully.
"It don't matter. You ain't goin' near him," Soda snapped, slowly advancing. I stepped forward and seized his shoulders.
"Easy, Sodapop......"
"Don't tell me to take it easy! He ain't got any business coming here!"
"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Steve begged, "to him and you. Please just let me........"
We were all interrupted as Ponyboy coughed, over and over, violently. We turned, hopeful that he was conscious, but no such luck; it was just his body's reaction to the blood that must have been filling his decomposing lungs. Soda rushed back to his brother's side, talking in a low voice although we all knew that he could no longer hear us.
Dark red
(like that day in gym)
spewed from his lips
(collapsing on the floor)
And to our horror one of the three monitors---lung, heart, brain---went flat.