Daryl
"What?!" I demanded.
"I'm Mr. Dirk, you're appointed lawyer." The man said calmly, as if he was just there to sell some stupid product. "I've come to forewarn you that when you brother become well enough to leave the hospital they will be sent to a home until a trial come to deal with this shooting. It is for the well-being of the children."
"It is not for the well-being of my brothers." I snapped. "It'll just scare the crap out of them."
"It will only be until the trial, maybe a week or two." Mr. Dirk continued, as if I hadn't said anything. "It is because there was another situation with your youngest brother. . ." He looked at the packet he had taken from his briefcase. "There seems to be a typo here. . . ." He shook his head. " Patrick maybe? Anyway, in the end of last year."
"His name is Ponyboy and that was cleared from his files." I said, confused. "The judge cleared him."
"It was still noted in his family records." Mr. Dirk said with a shrug. "It concerns the state."
"You can't take my brothers from me." I said, desperately. "They're all I got."
"It would be only a week or two, until the trial tells what will happen permanently."
"A week or two is a long time." I said, stubborn. I was scared. This was one thing the three of us were afraid of completely: losing each other. Pony would never get well if he wasn't at home. And Soda'd be so scared, and if they were placed in separate homes . . . who knows what would happen.
"I know, this is not an easy thing." He said. God, he was just like a soc. I hated him. "I have another appointment." He handed me a card. "We'll do lunch tomorrow." With that he was gone. I stood there, baffled.
I sighed. What was I going to do? I stuffed the card in my pocket and decided to get back to the room, and not mention this thing. I'll put if off as long as possible. If they knew it was coming it'd be worse.
The hopspital was full. Full. I mean it. There was even beds in the hall. I saw several people with singed clothes. There must have been a fire. I kept thinking about what Pony looked like when I saw him after he was away that week. God, he looked so sick and like he's been playin' in an ash pile. I thought we were going to loose him then. Both me and Soda. But this is even worse: I could loose both of them.
I brushed aside those thoughts, returning to the room. It was as if we were at home. Steve, Two-bit, and Soda were content with a poker game, laughing, playing, shoving. I was glad the nurses let Pony had as many visitors as he wanted. He's gotten so sick lately that he knows all their names.
My youngest brother was curled up, asleep, the arm with the IV hanging out of the bed, his fingers tips getting red from the blood rushing downward. I walked over, stroking his hair gently, folding his arm onto the mattress. He wheezed, tucking it in under his chest, which he was laying on. Soda looked at me.
"What was that about?" He asked innocently, shoving Steve as he attempted to get an ace from the deck.
"Nothing." I said, sitting down on the bench next to Steve. "Deal me in."
"What?!" I demanded.
"I'm Mr. Dirk, you're appointed lawyer." The man said calmly, as if he was just there to sell some stupid product. "I've come to forewarn you that when you brother become well enough to leave the hospital they will be sent to a home until a trial come to deal with this shooting. It is for the well-being of the children."
"It is not for the well-being of my brothers." I snapped. "It'll just scare the crap out of them."
"It will only be until the trial, maybe a week or two." Mr. Dirk continued, as if I hadn't said anything. "It is because there was another situation with your youngest brother. . ." He looked at the packet he had taken from his briefcase. "There seems to be a typo here. . . ." He shook his head. " Patrick maybe? Anyway, in the end of last year."
"His name is Ponyboy and that was cleared from his files." I said, confused. "The judge cleared him."
"It was still noted in his family records." Mr. Dirk said with a shrug. "It concerns the state."
"You can't take my brothers from me." I said, desperately. "They're all I got."
"It would be only a week or two, until the trial tells what will happen permanently."
"A week or two is a long time." I said, stubborn. I was scared. This was one thing the three of us were afraid of completely: losing each other. Pony would never get well if he wasn't at home. And Soda'd be so scared, and if they were placed in separate homes . . . who knows what would happen.
"I know, this is not an easy thing." He said. God, he was just like a soc. I hated him. "I have another appointment." He handed me a card. "We'll do lunch tomorrow." With that he was gone. I stood there, baffled.
I sighed. What was I going to do? I stuffed the card in my pocket and decided to get back to the room, and not mention this thing. I'll put if off as long as possible. If they knew it was coming it'd be worse.
The hopspital was full. Full. I mean it. There was even beds in the hall. I saw several people with singed clothes. There must have been a fire. I kept thinking about what Pony looked like when I saw him after he was away that week. God, he looked so sick and like he's been playin' in an ash pile. I thought we were going to loose him then. Both me and Soda. But this is even worse: I could loose both of them.
I brushed aside those thoughts, returning to the room. It was as if we were at home. Steve, Two-bit, and Soda were content with a poker game, laughing, playing, shoving. I was glad the nurses let Pony had as many visitors as he wanted. He's gotten so sick lately that he knows all their names.
My youngest brother was curled up, asleep, the arm with the IV hanging out of the bed, his fingers tips getting red from the blood rushing downward. I walked over, stroking his hair gently, folding his arm onto the mattress. He wheezed, tucking it in under his chest, which he was laying on. Soda looked at me.
"What was that about?" He asked innocently, shoving Steve as he attempted to get an ace from the deck.
"Nothing." I said, sitting down on the bench next to Steve. "Deal me in."