Chapter 5 - Pony Fights Back
Today was great, I thought while watching Soda make pancakes. He woke up first, so I had to do dishes, I hate that. I watched as Soda tried to flip a pancake up in the air, but it missed the pan on the way down and smacked him in the face. It was hot, so he started running around and cussing while Two-Bit was on the floor laughing till he was crying. I pulled the pancake off his face and splashed a glass of water on him.
Well, we had burnt pancakes for breakfast, and it was hard to chew and not laugh at Soda. His face was red, and was probably gonna stay that way for at least 30 minutes. Two-Bit and I wanted to take a picture, but Soda swore he would pound us if we did. Two-Bit sat down and turned the TV on to Mickey Mouse, which actually came on today.
The day went by really fast, unfortunately. I didn't want to go to school the next day. It was about 6:00 p.m. when Two-Bit and Soda went to the Dingo. They asked me to come, but I decided against it. I really don't like being in huge crowds like that. And all they usually do is fight there. I wouldn't call myself a great fighter, but I can hold my own in a rumble if I was forced to. Since there wasn't anything on, I just sat at the table and played poker by myself. I was trying to stick cards up my sleeve, to practice to be as good a cheater as Two-Bit was. I heard a knock at the door, and when I went to open it, surprisingly, it was Steve. "Where's Soda?" he asked. "He's at the Dingo." "Really, where's Darry?" "At work." "Oh." He said 'oh' like it was surprising. Though it wasn't surprising that Darry went to work 6 days a week. I mustered up enough courage to ask him why he said it that way; I had to get courage because Steve really doesn't like me. He thinks I just tag along, though that's not my fault. "Because I could've swore that I saw Darry heading over to Tim Shepard's place, oh well." He turned and walked off the porch, probably to go to the Dingo and talk to Soda.
Tim Shepard's? Why in the world would Darry be heading over there? I walked around in a circle thinking why Darry would go over to Tim's place. Tim isn't exactly the greatest guy to be around. Usually, when he throws a party, which is almost every day, there's a lot of liquor and fighting, and other stuff that I'd get in trouble for talking about.
It was exactly 11:15 when a car pulled in the driveway. I knew it wasn't Soda, since, when he went to the Dingo; he didn't come home till really late, and he didn't have a car, unless Steve was driving. I knew it was Darry, but when I looked out the window, he was stumbling a lot. It looked like he couldn't walk in a straight line without help. When Darry came in, he smelled like beer. He had bags under his eyes, like Dally used to get after a night of partying.
"Hey Darry." I said. He just looked at me and burped. That's not like Darry at all; he's usually very polite. He muttered a 'Hey' and walked into the kitchen. I just then remembered that I still had to do the dishes from this morning, and I thought 'Oh, why can't I use my head?' Darry walked back out into the living room and motioned for me to stand in front of him. I tried to say I was sorry, but I stuttered too much. I went to stand in front of him. He started talking to me about procrastination and how he does everything for me and I don't do anything for him. His voice kept getting louder and louder, and I closed my eyes and waited for the almost familiar sound of him cracking his belt and then hitting me hard with it. But when it didn't come I opened my eyes. He wasn't there.
I heard a sound coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a person looking for something in the silverware drawer, you know that clang sound. I walked into the kitchen, and, sure enough, Darry was searching through that drawer. "Come here, Pony." He said. I walked over to him, and I saw he was holding a small, yet sharp knife. He grabbed my wrist and sliced my little finger, but it wasn't very deep. Even so, I started freaking out. I thought he was gonna kill me. I grabbed the tiny reading lamp on the table that he uses late at night when paying bills, and smacked him against the side of the head. The next thing I knew, he was on the floor with a big cut on his cheek and a bunch of other cuts. Some places even had glass sticking out of the skin. A puddle of blood was slowly forming under his head.
I pulled Darry into the living room; I made sure he was still breathing and all. I wrapped a towel around his head. I started to panic. I didn't know if I should call 911, or wait until Soda got back. Then, like someone heard my prayer, Soda came through the front door. As soon as he saw the blood that was now everywhere, he froze in place. "Ponyboy, what happened?" He asked me frantically. I quickly explained all that had happened. He rushed to the phone and called 911. An ambulance came, and put Darry on a stretcher, then carried him out. We hoped into the ambulance and I hung my head low. The only thing I could think of was 'What did you get yourself into now, Ponyboy?'
Today was great, I thought while watching Soda make pancakes. He woke up first, so I had to do dishes, I hate that. I watched as Soda tried to flip a pancake up in the air, but it missed the pan on the way down and smacked him in the face. It was hot, so he started running around and cussing while Two-Bit was on the floor laughing till he was crying. I pulled the pancake off his face and splashed a glass of water on him.
Well, we had burnt pancakes for breakfast, and it was hard to chew and not laugh at Soda. His face was red, and was probably gonna stay that way for at least 30 minutes. Two-Bit and I wanted to take a picture, but Soda swore he would pound us if we did. Two-Bit sat down and turned the TV on to Mickey Mouse, which actually came on today.
The day went by really fast, unfortunately. I didn't want to go to school the next day. It was about 6:00 p.m. when Two-Bit and Soda went to the Dingo. They asked me to come, but I decided against it. I really don't like being in huge crowds like that. And all they usually do is fight there. I wouldn't call myself a great fighter, but I can hold my own in a rumble if I was forced to. Since there wasn't anything on, I just sat at the table and played poker by myself. I was trying to stick cards up my sleeve, to practice to be as good a cheater as Two-Bit was. I heard a knock at the door, and when I went to open it, surprisingly, it was Steve. "Where's Soda?" he asked. "He's at the Dingo." "Really, where's Darry?" "At work." "Oh." He said 'oh' like it was surprising. Though it wasn't surprising that Darry went to work 6 days a week. I mustered up enough courage to ask him why he said it that way; I had to get courage because Steve really doesn't like me. He thinks I just tag along, though that's not my fault. "Because I could've swore that I saw Darry heading over to Tim Shepard's place, oh well." He turned and walked off the porch, probably to go to the Dingo and talk to Soda.
Tim Shepard's? Why in the world would Darry be heading over there? I walked around in a circle thinking why Darry would go over to Tim's place. Tim isn't exactly the greatest guy to be around. Usually, when he throws a party, which is almost every day, there's a lot of liquor and fighting, and other stuff that I'd get in trouble for talking about.
It was exactly 11:15 when a car pulled in the driveway. I knew it wasn't Soda, since, when he went to the Dingo; he didn't come home till really late, and he didn't have a car, unless Steve was driving. I knew it was Darry, but when I looked out the window, he was stumbling a lot. It looked like he couldn't walk in a straight line without help. When Darry came in, he smelled like beer. He had bags under his eyes, like Dally used to get after a night of partying.
"Hey Darry." I said. He just looked at me and burped. That's not like Darry at all; he's usually very polite. He muttered a 'Hey' and walked into the kitchen. I just then remembered that I still had to do the dishes from this morning, and I thought 'Oh, why can't I use my head?' Darry walked back out into the living room and motioned for me to stand in front of him. I tried to say I was sorry, but I stuttered too much. I went to stand in front of him. He started talking to me about procrastination and how he does everything for me and I don't do anything for him. His voice kept getting louder and louder, and I closed my eyes and waited for the almost familiar sound of him cracking his belt and then hitting me hard with it. But when it didn't come I opened my eyes. He wasn't there.
I heard a sound coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a person looking for something in the silverware drawer, you know that clang sound. I walked into the kitchen, and, sure enough, Darry was searching through that drawer. "Come here, Pony." He said. I walked over to him, and I saw he was holding a small, yet sharp knife. He grabbed my wrist and sliced my little finger, but it wasn't very deep. Even so, I started freaking out. I thought he was gonna kill me. I grabbed the tiny reading lamp on the table that he uses late at night when paying bills, and smacked him against the side of the head. The next thing I knew, he was on the floor with a big cut on his cheek and a bunch of other cuts. Some places even had glass sticking out of the skin. A puddle of blood was slowly forming under his head.
I pulled Darry into the living room; I made sure he was still breathing and all. I wrapped a towel around his head. I started to panic. I didn't know if I should call 911, or wait until Soda got back. Then, like someone heard my prayer, Soda came through the front door. As soon as he saw the blood that was now everywhere, he froze in place. "Ponyboy, what happened?" He asked me frantically. I quickly explained all that had happened. He rushed to the phone and called 911. An ambulance came, and put Darry on a stretcher, then carried him out. We hoped into the ambulance and I hung my head low. The only thing I could think of was 'What did you get yourself into now, Ponyboy?'