Darry
Slowly my eyes opened. The sun was bright. I rubbed at my eyes, starting to roll to my side, then realizing I was not in my bed, in my bedroom, or in my house. I sat up, remembering what had happened. God, how had a fallen asleep?
Soda was in the chair beside me, leaning on the bed, his head in his arms, still in a deep sleep. Steve was on the bench at the foot of the bed. Two-bit had pulled at chair up to the side of the bed, and was playing with a deck of cards.
I looked at my wrist watch, and jumped at the time. It was nearly four in the afternoon.
"Okay, I'm going to get it now." I heard Two-bit say softly. "What is a king of clubs?"
"No."
"Hearts?"
"No."
"Diamonds?"
"No.
"Was it a king at all?!"
"No."
"Um, a queen?"
"Give up, Two-bit."
I looked at the bed in disbelief. My little brother, my youngest brother, was laying on his back, looking at Two-bit, his hair still slicked back but his skin a more normal color. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and whatnot. He kept closing his eyes as if he was going to fall asleep, then would open them again, looking at Two-bit like he was an idiot.
I felt my stomach lurch. Was he going to forgive me? Did I drive him to do this? I could feel myself tense up.
"Let's see, a queen of hearts?"
"Two-bit." He groaned, moving onto his side, so he was facing me. He blinked, trying to sit up, but finding he didn't have the strength to. "Darry?"
"Pony." I replied, getting up and walking over. To my surprise he reached over, grabbing my waist and squeezed me, hard. I stroked his head, baffled but relieved.
"I'm sorry Darry." He said, muffled, his face pressed into my stomach. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything." I whispered, feeling like crying. He was struggling not too, his body shaking. "You didn't do anything, Ponyboy." It suddenly occurred to me fighting his sobs could hurt him more. "It's okay. If you wanna cry, go ahead and cry." I said quietly, sitting on the bed beside him. "I won't tell no one."
"Darry. . . I shouldn't of done that." He said, still pressed to me. "I was just. . . mixed up . . . sick of fighting. . . I wanted to end the fighting, but I did it wrong. . . now we're even worse off and it's all my fault. . ."
"Hey." I pulled him so I could look at him. "This is not your fault. I want you to relax, okay, lil' buddy?" I pushed his hair back, making him lay back down. "You gotta relax. Just concentrate on gettin' better." I'll do enough worrying for the both of us, I thought. He wasn't believing me and had this anxious look about him. Two-bit raised his eyebrows.
"Huh?" Soda sat up, stretching. He looked at me, then at Pony. "Hey Ponyboy!" He said in honest surprise.
"Hey Sodapop." He replied, tiredly, wiping at his tears.
"Golly, you had me scared." Soda said, stroking back his hair. "You feelin' better?" He nodded a little. "When did you wake up?"
"I don't know. . ." He said quietly.
"Around nine." Two-bit supplied. "Doctor came in around noon and took him off the heart monitor." That's right, that beeping was gone. He still had the IV, though.
"When can I go home?" Pony suddenly asked, looking at me and Soda.
"I'm not sure," Soda started.
"Not for a while, Pony." I sighed. Suddenly a man walked in, dressed in a suit and tied.
"Daryl Curtis?" He asked, looking at Soda, who pointed to me. The man held out his hand, and I shook it, confused.
"Would you mind stepping out, so we can talk. . ." He glanced around the room. "In private?"
"Alright." I glanced at Soda, who was stroking Pony's hair, starring at me. "Don't get rough." Soda does with Pony at times with out realizing it.
"No, I'm going to challenge him to a marathon, and then we're going sky diving." He said irritably. I laughed. He got his sense of humor back. I followed the guy into the hall. . .
Slowly my eyes opened. The sun was bright. I rubbed at my eyes, starting to roll to my side, then realizing I was not in my bed, in my bedroom, or in my house. I sat up, remembering what had happened. God, how had a fallen asleep?
Soda was in the chair beside me, leaning on the bed, his head in his arms, still in a deep sleep. Steve was on the bench at the foot of the bed. Two-bit had pulled at chair up to the side of the bed, and was playing with a deck of cards.
I looked at my wrist watch, and jumped at the time. It was nearly four in the afternoon.
"Okay, I'm going to get it now." I heard Two-bit say softly. "What is a king of clubs?"
"No."
"Hearts?"
"No."
"Diamonds?"
"No.
"Was it a king at all?!"
"No."
"Um, a queen?"
"Give up, Two-bit."
I looked at the bed in disbelief. My little brother, my youngest brother, was laying on his back, looking at Two-bit, his hair still slicked back but his skin a more normal color. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and whatnot. He kept closing his eyes as if he was going to fall asleep, then would open them again, looking at Two-bit like he was an idiot.
I felt my stomach lurch. Was he going to forgive me? Did I drive him to do this? I could feel myself tense up.
"Let's see, a queen of hearts?"
"Two-bit." He groaned, moving onto his side, so he was facing me. He blinked, trying to sit up, but finding he didn't have the strength to. "Darry?"
"Pony." I replied, getting up and walking over. To my surprise he reached over, grabbing my waist and squeezed me, hard. I stroked his head, baffled but relieved.
"I'm sorry Darry." He said, muffled, his face pressed into my stomach. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything." I whispered, feeling like crying. He was struggling not too, his body shaking. "You didn't do anything, Ponyboy." It suddenly occurred to me fighting his sobs could hurt him more. "It's okay. If you wanna cry, go ahead and cry." I said quietly, sitting on the bed beside him. "I won't tell no one."
"Darry. . . I shouldn't of done that." He said, still pressed to me. "I was just. . . mixed up . . . sick of fighting. . . I wanted to end the fighting, but I did it wrong. . . now we're even worse off and it's all my fault. . ."
"Hey." I pulled him so I could look at him. "This is not your fault. I want you to relax, okay, lil' buddy?" I pushed his hair back, making him lay back down. "You gotta relax. Just concentrate on gettin' better." I'll do enough worrying for the both of us, I thought. He wasn't believing me and had this anxious look about him. Two-bit raised his eyebrows.
"Huh?" Soda sat up, stretching. He looked at me, then at Pony. "Hey Ponyboy!" He said in honest surprise.
"Hey Sodapop." He replied, tiredly, wiping at his tears.
"Golly, you had me scared." Soda said, stroking back his hair. "You feelin' better?" He nodded a little. "When did you wake up?"
"I don't know. . ." He said quietly.
"Around nine." Two-bit supplied. "Doctor came in around noon and took him off the heart monitor." That's right, that beeping was gone. He still had the IV, though.
"When can I go home?" Pony suddenly asked, looking at me and Soda.
"I'm not sure," Soda started.
"Not for a while, Pony." I sighed. Suddenly a man walked in, dressed in a suit and tied.
"Daryl Curtis?" He asked, looking at Soda, who pointed to me. The man held out his hand, and I shook it, confused.
"Would you mind stepping out, so we can talk. . ." He glanced around the room. "In private?"
"Alright." I glanced at Soda, who was stroking Pony's hair, starring at me. "Don't get rough." Soda does with Pony at times with out realizing it.
"No, I'm going to challenge him to a marathon, and then we're going sky diving." He said irritably. I laughed. He got his sense of humor back. I followed the guy into the hall. . .