Soda
I sat there, watching my little brother's chest rise and slowly fall. He was so still, so small, so defenseless. I felt like he was a baby again, like he was the little ten year old that suddenly became Darry and I's responsibility when Mom and Dad died. He's been so much since then. . . we all have. Firstly, and the most devastating, was Mom and Dad's death. I mean, that's not something I'll ever get over. Nor will my brothers. Pony was so young. . . not that he isn't now. He was so scared. He clung to me like there was no tomorrow at the funeral. I think he was desperate to make me and Darry not go away, not go away like Mom and Dad did, but Darry was to tense to hang on to. I think I needed to hang onto something myself. . . it was like my heart was being ripped out. . . .
Then there was the custody settlements. The government thought Darry, though a legal adult, was to young to take care of us. The fuzz came the night of Mom and Dad's funeral to talk to Darry. Fortunately, Pony was already asleep. He woulda panicked if he heard it. They practically said Darry wasn't old enough, mature enough, rich enough, or smart enough to take care of any human being. Then they said tomorrow we both would be taken to boys homes in the city. I was only thirteen at the time, and it scared me. I've never been away from home much before, or from Pony and Darry. . . or Mom and Dad. . .
So Darry went to court. It was a long time. before things got back to normal. Of course Darry won custody, I never really doubted him because he seemed so sure. He was more concerned with Ponyboy's nightmares than the court. I now know he was just doing it to be brave for his brothers.
It cost a lot of money at court. We couldn't afford the big house we were living in. So we moved to the bad side of town, in a small house with only two bedrooms and a small kitchen/living room/dining room combo. Pony had to go to a new school. . . I didn't bother to sign up again and started working at the DX, where I met my best buddy, Steve, and we became part of the Greasers. We became who we are today.
I looked at Pony's pale skin and smoothed back hair and very light breathing. It wasn't who we are, I guess. That kid laying in a hospital bed was not just a Greaser. He was smart. He was young, and sensitive, and my little brother. And has been through too much pain and torture for his fourteen years.
I stroked his hair back again. Poor Ponyboy. . . .
I sat there, watching my little brother's chest rise and slowly fall. He was so still, so small, so defenseless. I felt like he was a baby again, like he was the little ten year old that suddenly became Darry and I's responsibility when Mom and Dad died. He's been so much since then. . . we all have. Firstly, and the most devastating, was Mom and Dad's death. I mean, that's not something I'll ever get over. Nor will my brothers. Pony was so young. . . not that he isn't now. He was so scared. He clung to me like there was no tomorrow at the funeral. I think he was desperate to make me and Darry not go away, not go away like Mom and Dad did, but Darry was to tense to hang on to. I think I needed to hang onto something myself. . . it was like my heart was being ripped out. . . .
Then there was the custody settlements. The government thought Darry, though a legal adult, was to young to take care of us. The fuzz came the night of Mom and Dad's funeral to talk to Darry. Fortunately, Pony was already asleep. He woulda panicked if he heard it. They practically said Darry wasn't old enough, mature enough, rich enough, or smart enough to take care of any human being. Then they said tomorrow we both would be taken to boys homes in the city. I was only thirteen at the time, and it scared me. I've never been away from home much before, or from Pony and Darry. . . or Mom and Dad. . .
So Darry went to court. It was a long time. before things got back to normal. Of course Darry won custody, I never really doubted him because he seemed so sure. He was more concerned with Ponyboy's nightmares than the court. I now know he was just doing it to be brave for his brothers.
It cost a lot of money at court. We couldn't afford the big house we were living in. So we moved to the bad side of town, in a small house with only two bedrooms and a small kitchen/living room/dining room combo. Pony had to go to a new school. . . I didn't bother to sign up again and started working at the DX, where I met my best buddy, Steve, and we became part of the Greasers. We became who we are today.
I looked at Pony's pale skin and smoothed back hair and very light breathing. It wasn't who we are, I guess. That kid laying in a hospital bed was not just a Greaser. He was smart. He was young, and sensitive, and my little brother. And has been through too much pain and torture for his fourteen years.
I stroked his hair back again. Poor Ponyboy. . . .