Soda
"Just a week." Heard my brother murmur to himself from beside me in the backseat. We were in the backseat of a blue van with two suitcases and a knapsack of Pony's school books. This is it, I thought. We were really going to leave Darry. The night air was damp, and what was left of the sunset was a blue-glow near the bottom of the buildings.
When we left the hospital I nearly cried. Steve had his pissed off look about him, and Two-bit was as miserable as we were. I looked at Ponyboy. He was beyond misery. He was worried and stiff and confused and scared and . . . .
"Ponyboy?" I asked. He quickly looked at me.
"Yea, Soda?" He replied. I reached over, rubbing his head.
"It's gonna be alright, Pony. It's going to be alright." He seemed puzzled a minute, then a shy smile crossed his face. That was the first time he smiled since this happened. I felt myself smiled too.
This wasn't the end of the worlds, I thought with confidence. Darry's right. He wouldn't give us up for the world!
"I hope so." He said.
"I know so."
We drove for a long time. Pony was still glum, but I forced myself to remain cheerful as much as I could.
The man driving was bald. He was from the state, too. He was whistling to himself, tapping the steering wheel. He was weird.
We were going to a foster home, on a farm-claim, all the way in Windrixville. We didn't have fond memories of Windrixville, and Pony knew it all to well. The closer we got to the place the more he fidgetted. He got out a book and started to read, but kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, then kicking his feet out.
"Willya sit still already?" I asked, nudging him. He bit his lip, nodding.
We pulled up in front of a white house with black trim, and a swing-set out in the yard.
"This is it, kids." The man called. "Let's go meet 'em." I grabbed the knapsack and suit cases before Pony could think too. He wasn't supposed to lift anything heavier then a text-book, though he did his best to ignore those orders. He gave me a dirty look, and I grinned in response.
It was a cold night, windy too. I wished I had my coat out, my mind thought absently. I was hungry too. Pony and I stopped at the bottom step as the man knocked. The yard was huge. A dog was sitting in a pen a few yards away, wagging it's tail happily. Toys, like pre-school stuff, was in a stack beside the door, and three regular bikes. Something smelled good inside.
"Hello?" A woman, pudgy, tall, with long black hair down to her rear, answered the door. Glasses sat at the end of her nose, and a large text was in her hand. Pony and I looked at one another. What had we gotten into?
"Mrs. Lya?" The man asked. "Hi, I'm from the state. This is Soda and Ponyboy Curtis." He waved an arm at us. Pony fidgeted. His name never goes with people very easy. But the woman nodded, waving us in.
The house wasn't spotless inside, but clean in a casual way. A lot cleaner than the last time I was at our house. It'd be different when we get home, though, cause Darry cleans when he's worried. I gulped, thinking of my big brother. I looked around. A TV was on in another room, I could hear people talking and laughing. A little girl and boy, one maybe two, the other three or four, was on the floor near the table, playing with blocks.
"Have a seat." The woman said, waving us. I sat down the bags cautiously, then pushed Pony over toward the table, where we sat next to each other. The man sat across from us, and Mrs. Laya at one of the ends. "Which one of you is Ponyboy, and which one is Soda?"
"I'm Soda." I said. "This is Pony." Pony looked from me to her. She smiled, and then turned to the man.
"This is temporary, I believe." He said. "Till a trial, and then what happens happens." He pulled out a paper from his brief case. "The younger one," He pointed to Pony. "Has some medications and skin treatments to deal with, and the older," He pointed to me. "Doesn't go to school. He works at a . . . gas station?" He raised his eyebrows at me. I nodded.
"That's okay." The woman nodded. "That's all workable." She got up. "Mr. Harpens, would you like some coffee while I fix these two some dinner? They look famished." I looked at Pony, who looked at me. She could almost read minds, I thought. I gulped. Sorta like what Mom used to do.
"No thank you." The man said. "I'll just leave the paper-work here?" He left a folder on the table, and soon was out the door.
"How old are you two?" The woman asked, heating up a frying pan.
"I'm seventeen." I said. "Pony's almost fifteen." Almost my foot, actually, but I knew Pony'd like it.
"What grade are you in, Ponyboy?"
"Eleventh." He said, softer then usual.
"Hmm." She smiled. "You're a smart one, huh? Skipped a grade or two?" He nodded. She soon set two plates in front of us, mashed potatoes and chicken. She then set two glasses of chocolate milk down. Okay, that was too weird. Our favorite foods in one meal? Coincidence? Didn't think so.
We ate in silence, and then she lead us upstairs to the bedrooms, saying we looked exhausted. The room she told was partly ours was dark blue, with three bunk-beds in it. The beds were made, and a desk was right next to it. I set the bag of Pony's school junk under the bed, and then our suitcases. I didn't want to get into anything.
"Did you take your pills?" I asked Pony. I pulled off my shirt and kicked off my shoes and socks and sat on the bottom bunks. I stuffed my clothes in under the mattress. I couldn't just throw them like I did at home. I turned to him.
He hadn't been listening. He was looking out the window at the stars, kicking of f his sneakers without lifting his eyes from outside. Golly, he looked so lonesome. His hair was a mess, and he just looked lost. As he inched off his sweatshirt the white of the bandage made him looks so thin.
"Pony." I said, a little louder. He turned quick.
"Yeah?"
" Did ya take your pills?" He nodded, then climbed into the top bunk, staying in his socks and jeans. I stood on the bottom bunk, watching him. He lay down, and I pulled the blue quilt over his shoulders. He blinked at me.
"Do you think Darry's worried?" He asked.
"You joking?" I asked, resting my folded arms on his chest and stomach. "'Course he is. You know him." He sighed.
"I don't mean to be so much trouble, ya know?" He said, squeaking. "It. . .it just happens." I smiled, and carefully stroked back his hair.
"Don't worry, Ponyboy." I said, quietly. Though he was talking clearly, just looking at him I could tell he was nearly asleep. "Got it, bub?"
"Hmm. . ." He rolled onto his stomach, facing the window. I smiled, and gently stroked his hair back a final time before crawling into bed.
"Just a week." Heard my brother murmur to himself from beside me in the backseat. We were in the backseat of a blue van with two suitcases and a knapsack of Pony's school books. This is it, I thought. We were really going to leave Darry. The night air was damp, and what was left of the sunset was a blue-glow near the bottom of the buildings.
When we left the hospital I nearly cried. Steve had his pissed off look about him, and Two-bit was as miserable as we were. I looked at Ponyboy. He was beyond misery. He was worried and stiff and confused and scared and . . . .
"Ponyboy?" I asked. He quickly looked at me.
"Yea, Soda?" He replied. I reached over, rubbing his head.
"It's gonna be alright, Pony. It's going to be alright." He seemed puzzled a minute, then a shy smile crossed his face. That was the first time he smiled since this happened. I felt myself smiled too.
This wasn't the end of the worlds, I thought with confidence. Darry's right. He wouldn't give us up for the world!
"I hope so." He said.
"I know so."
We drove for a long time. Pony was still glum, but I forced myself to remain cheerful as much as I could.
The man driving was bald. He was from the state, too. He was whistling to himself, tapping the steering wheel. He was weird.
We were going to a foster home, on a farm-claim, all the way in Windrixville. We didn't have fond memories of Windrixville, and Pony knew it all to well. The closer we got to the place the more he fidgetted. He got out a book and started to read, but kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, then kicking his feet out.
"Willya sit still already?" I asked, nudging him. He bit his lip, nodding.
We pulled up in front of a white house with black trim, and a swing-set out in the yard.
"This is it, kids." The man called. "Let's go meet 'em." I grabbed the knapsack and suit cases before Pony could think too. He wasn't supposed to lift anything heavier then a text-book, though he did his best to ignore those orders. He gave me a dirty look, and I grinned in response.
It was a cold night, windy too. I wished I had my coat out, my mind thought absently. I was hungry too. Pony and I stopped at the bottom step as the man knocked. The yard was huge. A dog was sitting in a pen a few yards away, wagging it's tail happily. Toys, like pre-school stuff, was in a stack beside the door, and three regular bikes. Something smelled good inside.
"Hello?" A woman, pudgy, tall, with long black hair down to her rear, answered the door. Glasses sat at the end of her nose, and a large text was in her hand. Pony and I looked at one another. What had we gotten into?
"Mrs. Lya?" The man asked. "Hi, I'm from the state. This is Soda and Ponyboy Curtis." He waved an arm at us. Pony fidgeted. His name never goes with people very easy. But the woman nodded, waving us in.
The house wasn't spotless inside, but clean in a casual way. A lot cleaner than the last time I was at our house. It'd be different when we get home, though, cause Darry cleans when he's worried. I gulped, thinking of my big brother. I looked around. A TV was on in another room, I could hear people talking and laughing. A little girl and boy, one maybe two, the other three or four, was on the floor near the table, playing with blocks.
"Have a seat." The woman said, waving us. I sat down the bags cautiously, then pushed Pony over toward the table, where we sat next to each other. The man sat across from us, and Mrs. Laya at one of the ends. "Which one of you is Ponyboy, and which one is Soda?"
"I'm Soda." I said. "This is Pony." Pony looked from me to her. She smiled, and then turned to the man.
"This is temporary, I believe." He said. "Till a trial, and then what happens happens." He pulled out a paper from his brief case. "The younger one," He pointed to Pony. "Has some medications and skin treatments to deal with, and the older," He pointed to me. "Doesn't go to school. He works at a . . . gas station?" He raised his eyebrows at me. I nodded.
"That's okay." The woman nodded. "That's all workable." She got up. "Mr. Harpens, would you like some coffee while I fix these two some dinner? They look famished." I looked at Pony, who looked at me. She could almost read minds, I thought. I gulped. Sorta like what Mom used to do.
"No thank you." The man said. "I'll just leave the paper-work here?" He left a folder on the table, and soon was out the door.
"How old are you two?" The woman asked, heating up a frying pan.
"I'm seventeen." I said. "Pony's almost fifteen." Almost my foot, actually, but I knew Pony'd like it.
"What grade are you in, Ponyboy?"
"Eleventh." He said, softer then usual.
"Hmm." She smiled. "You're a smart one, huh? Skipped a grade or two?" He nodded. She soon set two plates in front of us, mashed potatoes and chicken. She then set two glasses of chocolate milk down. Okay, that was too weird. Our favorite foods in one meal? Coincidence? Didn't think so.
We ate in silence, and then she lead us upstairs to the bedrooms, saying we looked exhausted. The room she told was partly ours was dark blue, with three bunk-beds in it. The beds were made, and a desk was right next to it. I set the bag of Pony's school junk under the bed, and then our suitcases. I didn't want to get into anything.
"Did you take your pills?" I asked Pony. I pulled off my shirt and kicked off my shoes and socks and sat on the bottom bunks. I stuffed my clothes in under the mattress. I couldn't just throw them like I did at home. I turned to him.
He hadn't been listening. He was looking out the window at the stars, kicking of f his sneakers without lifting his eyes from outside. Golly, he looked so lonesome. His hair was a mess, and he just looked lost. As he inched off his sweatshirt the white of the bandage made him looks so thin.
"Pony." I said, a little louder. He turned quick.
"Yeah?"
" Did ya take your pills?" He nodded, then climbed into the top bunk, staying in his socks and jeans. I stood on the bottom bunk, watching him. He lay down, and I pulled the blue quilt over his shoulders. He blinked at me.
"Do you think Darry's worried?" He asked.
"You joking?" I asked, resting my folded arms on his chest and stomach. "'Course he is. You know him." He sighed.
"I don't mean to be so much trouble, ya know?" He said, squeaking. "It. . .it just happens." I smiled, and carefully stroked back his hair.
"Don't worry, Ponyboy." I said, quietly. Though he was talking clearly, just looking at him I could tell he was nearly asleep. "Got it, bub?"
"Hmm. . ." He rolled onto his stomach, facing the window. I smiled, and gently stroked his hair back a final time before crawling into bed.