Oh, oh, I'm watchin "I love the 80's STRIKES BACK: 1986" and apparently C. Thornton Howell or whatever, our beloved Ponyboy, starred in this movie called "Blackface" where this white guy (C. Thornton) tries to make himself seem black so that he can get into Harvard easier. It's supposed to have its funny parts but is none-the-less racist...............
OOOOOOHHHH! I'm still watching this same episode, and they just did something on Rob Lowe, a.k.a. Sodapop!!!!! I LOVE "I love the 80's"!!!
________________
Man, Deadly, things are getting awful lonely around these here parts. You're the only one who's been reviewing me. If you weren't reviewing........
I'm glad I got ya, DW. I'm glad that you like my fic still! If there's anything you feel like flaming though, do it. Any input is input wanted. If any one else is reading my fic, drop a review please.
So, Deadly and whoever else is out there, here's my next installment of Dead Flowers:
It's Chapter Sixteen.
________________________________
Two-Bit bit down on his piece of wheat stuck in his mouth. Try as he did to be a cowboy sometimes, Two-Bit was not one. If he was, maybe he and Mark wouldn't being doing such a lousy job at fixing a horse race.
It was getting to be where you had to be a rider yourself or you had to know a rider to fix the race. The rodeo hands were getting quite good at sabotaging the sabotagers. Saddles were wiped off over and over again, thwarting hopes of greasing one to make it slippery. The dusty tracks were combed over for tacks and sludge, and horses were guarded precariously. There had been this one time when a guy from Alabama snuck into the stables, shoving a tranquilizer into a quarterback. Right after the starting gunshot split through the air, the poor horse sagged to the ground groggily. Needless to say, the foreigner ended up making money for getting the horse out of the way. Soon, the men organizing local rodeos were getting wise on the fact that gamblers would stop betting their money on games if they knew they were always rigged. And when there is no money spilt, there is no money made, and a lot of people would quit coming to these rowdy cowboy gatherins'. So rodeo hands were trained as well as the horses and Mark and Two-Bit were plum out of luck.
"How much do you think the hands get paid? We could bribe 'em."
"Now you're thinkin...like an idiot. We don't got the cash to pay anyone off."
"Don't get mad at me cause you almost got caught and had to run out of the stables. 'Sides, what would you of done, kilt a horse?"
"Maybe."
"Soda would've killed you if he found out."
"Soda wouldn't of been able to lay a finger on me. And how would he of known? You'd of told them? You're always running your mouth and you especially tell them everything."
"Yeah well, you're getting quick to use your mouth lately, too, except you've just been plain mouthy. And why are you saying 'them' like they're so bad? They're my friends, and they used to be yours, too."
Two-Bit thought: It was last year when the gang had met Mark. In the same grade and hanging around the same local haunts, Pony and Mark became friends, and so Mark started to drop by the Curtis house every once in awhile. At first, just to talk to Pony, but Mark ended up getting to know all of them. Mark fit into the group nicely, but no one else could ever be one of them. One of the gang. Darry, Two-Bit, Steve, Soda, Pony, and once Johnny and Dally. How could you be one of em, if you didn't know Dally or Johnny? You couldn't. They were all violently binded together, forever. "What was left of the gang" and the fallen members were eternal, and couldn't be interfered with.
Mark was however, an outsider that the gang had liked, but now, not even that. While dark clouds shifted into Two-Bit's eyes, Mark gave his reason.
"Well, things have changed since I've got back."
Two-Bit digested this, after thinking about the group and slipped his piece of over-rated grass out of his mouth. Mark had slipped. Things hadn't just changed, Mark had changed.
Mark wasn't used to Two-Bit's quietness, and desperately-because of a sudden craving of normalcy, not niccotine-asked him if he had any Skoal on him. Two-Bit dug it out of his pocket and tossed it, and then stood up, out of the hay then had been sitting on. Mark stood up, too.
Looking at him, Two-Bit grinned.
"You got hay all over your butt. I'd get it off, but hey, I don't lean that way. I don't get my kicks wiping off your tucus."
"You sure, cause I didn't think you were really into that blonde you were with earlier, and she was hot."
"Oh trust you me, I, too, believed in the supreme hotness of that glorious, awesomely blonde broad. Fruitiness is more Steve's thing."
"I suspected."
"No, you wished. I know what you've been thinking about him."
"Why were you looking at my butt anyway?"
"Changing the subject? It's official, Evie has competition!"
"It'd be for the first time. Not good with the ladies is he?"
"Because Steve's GAY, do keep up."
"I'M WHAT???!!!" Steve bellowed, knocking Two-Bit on the head. "You keep it up, and I'll hit you so hard..."
"No," Mark, originally startled by Steve and Soda-Pop, and now back to making remarks, "You'll kick him so hard he'll be a hermaphrodite. You need to work out more, TB, you're close to having boobs. If Steve get's a good swift kick in, you'd be, like half-and-half then."
"What's a hermaphrodite?" Soda asked.
"Guess you should have stayed in school, Soda."
Mark got a hit the twin of the one Two-Bit had just gotten. Two-Bit kept Mark from hitting Steve back because Mark had definitely deserved a good smacking. In fact, Two-Bit was almost wanting to hit Mark himself. Mark's remarks were too rough. He had started in on Two-Bit in their earlier spat and after the pause, ended up doing it again while they were joking around. It was like he couldn't stop.
But, this was how Mark was now, Two-Bit remembered.
"How late is it now?" Soda wondered aloud while he rubbed his legs.
"Shoot, it's eleven." Two-Bit said, tapping the plastic cover of his watch. Mark grimaced.
"We wasted all that time and we didn't make any money?"
"What'd you say?" Soda asked.
"Well, we got that bill you took off the calico." Two-Bit said.
Mark snorted."Besides that, nothing."
Soda pleaded."Hold up, what are y'all talking about?"
Mark brushed Soda off and then whined a little."It's nothing. Yeah, man, I need the cash."
"Y'all've been gambling instead of looking for Pony?" Soda said, outraged.
"Mind your own d*** business." Mark snapped.
"We're getting tired of you." Steve said, lowering his eyes.
"F**k off."
"You wanna fight?"
"Ten bucks that I can whip you."
"What?"
"Yeah, I want to beat your a** and I'll bet you ten dollars that I can. Do you know how much ten dollars is, Soda? Did you learn how to count that high?"
Steve through a ten on the ground and lunged at Mark. Both of them were on the ground, flailing against the hay, digging it up with their writhing bodies to reveal the dirt underneath. Soda and Two-Bit stood there, dumfounded for a second and then rushed to pull Mark and Steve, both on their feet now, apart. Dust flew into Soda's eyes and he yelped, wandering blindy and bumping into Two-Bit who tugged at Steve's sleeve vainly. Steve hit him back with one hand, making Two-Bit lean backwards into Soda and making them both fall. Two-Bit snorted as dirt when up his nose and he hit at it while coughing.
Steve's main tactic was to punch and to punch hard. Mark ducked one punch and grabbed Steve's hand, pressing down on a pressure point below the web of the thumb. Steve reactively pulled his hand away and Mark twisted it the other way, wrenching his wrist painfully. Sucking in the cry he wanted to let out, Steve kicked Mark in the calf and then aimed for his face but hit his neck. Mark stumbled forward, but while Steve came up behind him, Mark tripped him and then kicked Steve in the head. A few more kicks in the face and Steve rolled through the dust and picked up a few washers and placed them between his knuckles. Mark was able to spot a can of coke and ripped it down the middle, baring a jagged metal edge. Going for each other, they went for each other's jawline. The washers came loose from Steve's fingers as he jammed his fist at Mark while Mark hit Steve's arm with one hand and sliced Steve's face with the other. Steve was bigger, older, had fought longer, but had never had to stay awake at night in prison, waiting for an attack by one or more of the monsters in your cell, knowing that there was no way you could be helped by anyone else, and swearing that you won't let them take you down....
Steve fell to Mark's quick and savage fighting. And Mark just picked up Steve's ten dollars and walked off. Soda and Two-Bit had been mistakenly pulling at each other through sneezes, not being able to tell that it was each other and not Mark or Steve. Steve nudged them with his foot and told them to stand up and stop acting like imbeciles. Limping for a few minutes, Steve was mostly all right. All that hurt was his face, and he poured some beer(bummed it off a rodeo hand) on it to disinfect it. Then, Steve drank some himself to help numb the pain.
"I hope I never see his sorry face again," Steve mumbled.
"You will," Two-Bit hesitated. "I'm going to go find him later."
Soda gave Two-Bit an astonished look and put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Did ya see what he just did?"
"It happens all the time. Let's find Pony first. That crazy kid."
Steve took another drink of his beer while Soda scrunched up his face. "Man, when Darry finds him, he's gonna explode."
"And why shouldn't he? We've been looking for him for the past twenty-something hours. He runs off and then he makes us come all the way to Gary to pick him up, and then we can't even find him. Watch, I wouldn't be suprised if he didn't show."
Soda shivered. "Make me even more worried sick, why doncha'? What if we never saw him again? What if somethin's happened to him. I don't care how tough he is, the world's tougher than him and he could be dead already. "
"He shouldn't'a ran off."
"Think what happened to him. Jeez, did you not even listen to what Darry said Cathy told him when Darry called her the other night? Cathy was his girl..."
Steve looked at Soda and then shifted. "Aw, we'll find him."
"Yeah, well he might run off again if Darry gets to yelling at him."
"I didn't remember rodeos bein so big, why in tarnation haven't we found him yet?!" Two-Bit complained, getting tired of walking around.
"I'm suprised you can remember anything about rodeos, you're always getting drunk at them." Steve said, sipping at his beer a little slower.
Soda looked around as all three of them walked through a screaming crowd by the mechanical bulls. With lungs as strong as any of the spectators, Soda yelled out so his buddies could here him."There's a lot of people here, took us forever just to run into you and Mark."
Two-Bit, a natural loud-mouth, easily yelled back, "Hey! I think I see Pony, and Darry's with him!"
----
The gang, barely having the chance to enjoy the spectacles of the rodeo, were headed back to the truck after they joined up. Soda gave Pony a hug and tried to twirl him around, and then stood in front of him protectively while eyeing Darry suspiciously.
"It's all right," Pony assured the middle-child of the Curtises after intuitively understanding what Soda was doing. "We already talked. And its all right."
"You didn't chew him out?" Two-Bit asked, poking Darry, who answered,
"Nope."
Steve's coughed. "Why not?"
Why was Steve always like this?
"Did you want him to yell at me?" Pony scowled.
"Maybe you deser-" Steve started, but cut himself short after Soda gave him a viscious look.
Pony leaned on Soda while they walked. "I'm so tired..."
All of us are cause of you, Steve thought nonsympathetically..
"Is that why your eyes are blood-shot?" Soda asked, "You haven't been drinking have you?"
"No," Ponyboy said with a yawn. "I don't do that."
Darry knew Pony wouldn't drink, but..."Pony, where did you stay last night?"
"I thought we were through with talkin' about yesterday, Dar."
"I didn't say that. I said I understood you running off, and I'm not mad, but I want you to know that you need to be careful."
"We get concerned about you, honey." Soda said while pinching Pony, who let out a small sound of pain, on the arm. Pony had kept his mouth shut before when Soda had given him a bear-hug (it hurt his sore sides), but had forgotten to do it again just now. Soda hadn't even pinched him very hard."You baby." While saying that, Soda pushed back Pony's sleeve and made a louder noise than Pony had. There was a large, ugly purple bruise covering it."What happened last night?"
Hmmm...he got hit by a car...got in a fight...slept on the ground...Pony didn't say anything.
"That's it. Pony, I know you had to deal with Cathy...I'd tried to be calm about this...but you shouldn't of ran off like that. You could've gotten hurt worse than you did. I don't even know how bad you're hurt. Do you have more bruises? Do you?"
Pony shrugged. The relief he had felt earlier drifted away and the agony ensued of accounting for last night.
"Pony..." The gang had stopped walking and Darry clenched his teeth. "I don't know what to do. I...oh, blast it, don't do it again."
"I don't go and disappear all the time, do I? Can't I have a little time to myself?"
"Yeah, well, I'd rather you have alone-time somewhere closer to home and not be wandering the streets. I'd rather you try to be rational even when things are rough." Darry spoke softer. He was trying, for Pony, for Soda. And even for himself. He didn't want something to happen like it had before, when his temper got out of control, but he also knew that Pony needed control, too. Darry wasn't a father, and he didn't always know how to handle things. But he tried.
Pony knew Darry wasn't perfect and Pony was getting better at listening to Darry. They didn't talk about it any more. It was, throughout the ramblings that had the intention to mean something, understood that Pony wasn't in trouble, but Darry didn't want Pony to be reckless.
"What happened to your face?" Darry said, moving from interrogating Pony to Steve.
"Got in a fight with Mark," came the gruff answer.
Pony propped himself against the truck as they reached it. Mark. Mark. Cathy...
"Oh yeah...I gotta go find him." Two-Bit piped up. "I'll be back in a jiffy."
The gang didn't have time to object as their light-headed friend ran out of the make-shift parking lot back through the gates. They were soon complaining as they piled into the truck. Darry and Pony sat in the seat up front and reclined back their seats as far as they would go and Soda and Steve laid down in the back. They were dead tired. Hadn't Two-Bit heard Soda earlier? It was next-to-impossible to find someone in that mess of people.
Yawns were exchanged among all of them, and they fell asleep-despite the hollering, partying, and general uproar not too far away from them-concetrating only on the distant sound of the train.
OOOOOOHHHH! I'm still watching this same episode, and they just did something on Rob Lowe, a.k.a. Sodapop!!!!! I LOVE "I love the 80's"!!!
________________
Man, Deadly, things are getting awful lonely around these here parts. You're the only one who's been reviewing me. If you weren't reviewing........
I'm glad I got ya, DW. I'm glad that you like my fic still! If there's anything you feel like flaming though, do it. Any input is input wanted. If any one else is reading my fic, drop a review please.
So, Deadly and whoever else is out there, here's my next installment of Dead Flowers:
It's Chapter Sixteen.
________________________________
Two-Bit bit down on his piece of wheat stuck in his mouth. Try as he did to be a cowboy sometimes, Two-Bit was not one. If he was, maybe he and Mark wouldn't being doing such a lousy job at fixing a horse race.
It was getting to be where you had to be a rider yourself or you had to know a rider to fix the race. The rodeo hands were getting quite good at sabotaging the sabotagers. Saddles were wiped off over and over again, thwarting hopes of greasing one to make it slippery. The dusty tracks were combed over for tacks and sludge, and horses were guarded precariously. There had been this one time when a guy from Alabama snuck into the stables, shoving a tranquilizer into a quarterback. Right after the starting gunshot split through the air, the poor horse sagged to the ground groggily. Needless to say, the foreigner ended up making money for getting the horse out of the way. Soon, the men organizing local rodeos were getting wise on the fact that gamblers would stop betting their money on games if they knew they were always rigged. And when there is no money spilt, there is no money made, and a lot of people would quit coming to these rowdy cowboy gatherins'. So rodeo hands were trained as well as the horses and Mark and Two-Bit were plum out of luck.
"How much do you think the hands get paid? We could bribe 'em."
"Now you're thinkin...like an idiot. We don't got the cash to pay anyone off."
"Don't get mad at me cause you almost got caught and had to run out of the stables. 'Sides, what would you of done, kilt a horse?"
"Maybe."
"Soda would've killed you if he found out."
"Soda wouldn't of been able to lay a finger on me. And how would he of known? You'd of told them? You're always running your mouth and you especially tell them everything."
"Yeah well, you're getting quick to use your mouth lately, too, except you've just been plain mouthy. And why are you saying 'them' like they're so bad? They're my friends, and they used to be yours, too."
Two-Bit thought: It was last year when the gang had met Mark. In the same grade and hanging around the same local haunts, Pony and Mark became friends, and so Mark started to drop by the Curtis house every once in awhile. At first, just to talk to Pony, but Mark ended up getting to know all of them. Mark fit into the group nicely, but no one else could ever be one of them. One of the gang. Darry, Two-Bit, Steve, Soda, Pony, and once Johnny and Dally. How could you be one of em, if you didn't know Dally or Johnny? You couldn't. They were all violently binded together, forever. "What was left of the gang" and the fallen members were eternal, and couldn't be interfered with.
Mark was however, an outsider that the gang had liked, but now, not even that. While dark clouds shifted into Two-Bit's eyes, Mark gave his reason.
"Well, things have changed since I've got back."
Two-Bit digested this, after thinking about the group and slipped his piece of over-rated grass out of his mouth. Mark had slipped. Things hadn't just changed, Mark had changed.
Mark wasn't used to Two-Bit's quietness, and desperately-because of a sudden craving of normalcy, not niccotine-asked him if he had any Skoal on him. Two-Bit dug it out of his pocket and tossed it, and then stood up, out of the hay then had been sitting on. Mark stood up, too.
Looking at him, Two-Bit grinned.
"You got hay all over your butt. I'd get it off, but hey, I don't lean that way. I don't get my kicks wiping off your tucus."
"You sure, cause I didn't think you were really into that blonde you were with earlier, and she was hot."
"Oh trust you me, I, too, believed in the supreme hotness of that glorious, awesomely blonde broad. Fruitiness is more Steve's thing."
"I suspected."
"No, you wished. I know what you've been thinking about him."
"Why were you looking at my butt anyway?"
"Changing the subject? It's official, Evie has competition!"
"It'd be for the first time. Not good with the ladies is he?"
"Because Steve's GAY, do keep up."
"I'M WHAT???!!!" Steve bellowed, knocking Two-Bit on the head. "You keep it up, and I'll hit you so hard..."
"No," Mark, originally startled by Steve and Soda-Pop, and now back to making remarks, "You'll kick him so hard he'll be a hermaphrodite. You need to work out more, TB, you're close to having boobs. If Steve get's a good swift kick in, you'd be, like half-and-half then."
"What's a hermaphrodite?" Soda asked.
"Guess you should have stayed in school, Soda."
Mark got a hit the twin of the one Two-Bit had just gotten. Two-Bit kept Mark from hitting Steve back because Mark had definitely deserved a good smacking. In fact, Two-Bit was almost wanting to hit Mark himself. Mark's remarks were too rough. He had started in on Two-Bit in their earlier spat and after the pause, ended up doing it again while they were joking around. It was like he couldn't stop.
But, this was how Mark was now, Two-Bit remembered.
"How late is it now?" Soda wondered aloud while he rubbed his legs.
"Shoot, it's eleven." Two-Bit said, tapping the plastic cover of his watch. Mark grimaced.
"We wasted all that time and we didn't make any money?"
"What'd you say?" Soda asked.
"Well, we got that bill you took off the calico." Two-Bit said.
Mark snorted."Besides that, nothing."
Soda pleaded."Hold up, what are y'all talking about?"
Mark brushed Soda off and then whined a little."It's nothing. Yeah, man, I need the cash."
"Y'all've been gambling instead of looking for Pony?" Soda said, outraged.
"Mind your own d*** business." Mark snapped.
"We're getting tired of you." Steve said, lowering his eyes.
"F**k off."
"You wanna fight?"
"Ten bucks that I can whip you."
"What?"
"Yeah, I want to beat your a** and I'll bet you ten dollars that I can. Do you know how much ten dollars is, Soda? Did you learn how to count that high?"
Steve through a ten on the ground and lunged at Mark. Both of them were on the ground, flailing against the hay, digging it up with their writhing bodies to reveal the dirt underneath. Soda and Two-Bit stood there, dumfounded for a second and then rushed to pull Mark and Steve, both on their feet now, apart. Dust flew into Soda's eyes and he yelped, wandering blindy and bumping into Two-Bit who tugged at Steve's sleeve vainly. Steve hit him back with one hand, making Two-Bit lean backwards into Soda and making them both fall. Two-Bit snorted as dirt when up his nose and he hit at it while coughing.
Steve's main tactic was to punch and to punch hard. Mark ducked one punch and grabbed Steve's hand, pressing down on a pressure point below the web of the thumb. Steve reactively pulled his hand away and Mark twisted it the other way, wrenching his wrist painfully. Sucking in the cry he wanted to let out, Steve kicked Mark in the calf and then aimed for his face but hit his neck. Mark stumbled forward, but while Steve came up behind him, Mark tripped him and then kicked Steve in the head. A few more kicks in the face and Steve rolled through the dust and picked up a few washers and placed them between his knuckles. Mark was able to spot a can of coke and ripped it down the middle, baring a jagged metal edge. Going for each other, they went for each other's jawline. The washers came loose from Steve's fingers as he jammed his fist at Mark while Mark hit Steve's arm with one hand and sliced Steve's face with the other. Steve was bigger, older, had fought longer, but had never had to stay awake at night in prison, waiting for an attack by one or more of the monsters in your cell, knowing that there was no way you could be helped by anyone else, and swearing that you won't let them take you down....
Steve fell to Mark's quick and savage fighting. And Mark just picked up Steve's ten dollars and walked off. Soda and Two-Bit had been mistakenly pulling at each other through sneezes, not being able to tell that it was each other and not Mark or Steve. Steve nudged them with his foot and told them to stand up and stop acting like imbeciles. Limping for a few minutes, Steve was mostly all right. All that hurt was his face, and he poured some beer(bummed it off a rodeo hand) on it to disinfect it. Then, Steve drank some himself to help numb the pain.
"I hope I never see his sorry face again," Steve mumbled.
"You will," Two-Bit hesitated. "I'm going to go find him later."
Soda gave Two-Bit an astonished look and put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Did ya see what he just did?"
"It happens all the time. Let's find Pony first. That crazy kid."
Steve took another drink of his beer while Soda scrunched up his face. "Man, when Darry finds him, he's gonna explode."
"And why shouldn't he? We've been looking for him for the past twenty-something hours. He runs off and then he makes us come all the way to Gary to pick him up, and then we can't even find him. Watch, I wouldn't be suprised if he didn't show."
Soda shivered. "Make me even more worried sick, why doncha'? What if we never saw him again? What if somethin's happened to him. I don't care how tough he is, the world's tougher than him and he could be dead already. "
"He shouldn't'a ran off."
"Think what happened to him. Jeez, did you not even listen to what Darry said Cathy told him when Darry called her the other night? Cathy was his girl..."
Steve looked at Soda and then shifted. "Aw, we'll find him."
"Yeah, well he might run off again if Darry gets to yelling at him."
"I didn't remember rodeos bein so big, why in tarnation haven't we found him yet?!" Two-Bit complained, getting tired of walking around.
"I'm suprised you can remember anything about rodeos, you're always getting drunk at them." Steve said, sipping at his beer a little slower.
Soda looked around as all three of them walked through a screaming crowd by the mechanical bulls. With lungs as strong as any of the spectators, Soda yelled out so his buddies could here him."There's a lot of people here, took us forever just to run into you and Mark."
Two-Bit, a natural loud-mouth, easily yelled back, "Hey! I think I see Pony, and Darry's with him!"
----
The gang, barely having the chance to enjoy the spectacles of the rodeo, were headed back to the truck after they joined up. Soda gave Pony a hug and tried to twirl him around, and then stood in front of him protectively while eyeing Darry suspiciously.
"It's all right," Pony assured the middle-child of the Curtises after intuitively understanding what Soda was doing. "We already talked. And its all right."
"You didn't chew him out?" Two-Bit asked, poking Darry, who answered,
"Nope."
Steve's coughed. "Why not?"
Why was Steve always like this?
"Did you want him to yell at me?" Pony scowled.
"Maybe you deser-" Steve started, but cut himself short after Soda gave him a viscious look.
Pony leaned on Soda while they walked. "I'm so tired..."
All of us are cause of you, Steve thought nonsympathetically..
"Is that why your eyes are blood-shot?" Soda asked, "You haven't been drinking have you?"
"No," Ponyboy said with a yawn. "I don't do that."
Darry knew Pony wouldn't drink, but..."Pony, where did you stay last night?"
"I thought we were through with talkin' about yesterday, Dar."
"I didn't say that. I said I understood you running off, and I'm not mad, but I want you to know that you need to be careful."
"We get concerned about you, honey." Soda said while pinching Pony, who let out a small sound of pain, on the arm. Pony had kept his mouth shut before when Soda had given him a bear-hug (it hurt his sore sides), but had forgotten to do it again just now. Soda hadn't even pinched him very hard."You baby." While saying that, Soda pushed back Pony's sleeve and made a louder noise than Pony had. There was a large, ugly purple bruise covering it."What happened last night?"
Hmmm...he got hit by a car...got in a fight...slept on the ground...Pony didn't say anything.
"That's it. Pony, I know you had to deal with Cathy...I'd tried to be calm about this...but you shouldn't of ran off like that. You could've gotten hurt worse than you did. I don't even know how bad you're hurt. Do you have more bruises? Do you?"
Pony shrugged. The relief he had felt earlier drifted away and the agony ensued of accounting for last night.
"Pony..." The gang had stopped walking and Darry clenched his teeth. "I don't know what to do. I...oh, blast it, don't do it again."
"I don't go and disappear all the time, do I? Can't I have a little time to myself?"
"Yeah, well, I'd rather you have alone-time somewhere closer to home and not be wandering the streets. I'd rather you try to be rational even when things are rough." Darry spoke softer. He was trying, for Pony, for Soda. And even for himself. He didn't want something to happen like it had before, when his temper got out of control, but he also knew that Pony needed control, too. Darry wasn't a father, and he didn't always know how to handle things. But he tried.
Pony knew Darry wasn't perfect and Pony was getting better at listening to Darry. They didn't talk about it any more. It was, throughout the ramblings that had the intention to mean something, understood that Pony wasn't in trouble, but Darry didn't want Pony to be reckless.
"What happened to your face?" Darry said, moving from interrogating Pony to Steve.
"Got in a fight with Mark," came the gruff answer.
Pony propped himself against the truck as they reached it. Mark. Mark. Cathy...
"Oh yeah...I gotta go find him." Two-Bit piped up. "I'll be back in a jiffy."
The gang didn't have time to object as their light-headed friend ran out of the make-shift parking lot back through the gates. They were soon complaining as they piled into the truck. Darry and Pony sat in the seat up front and reclined back their seats as far as they would go and Soda and Steve laid down in the back. They were dead tired. Hadn't Two-Bit heard Soda earlier? It was next-to-impossible to find someone in that mess of people.
Yawns were exchanged among all of them, and they fell asleep-despite the hollering, partying, and general uproar not too far away from them-concetrating only on the distant sound of the train.