A/N: Much of the credit for this chapter should go to ModestVanity and Killslay, they gave me ideas for the plot. Muchos gracias, doomoarigato and so on…

That night Soda and Pony returned home to find Darry sitting in a chair looking rather angry, "I'm steamin' mad," he growled.

"Why?" asked Soda.

"Because, you're seven hours late!"

"Really, seven hours? Man, they say time flies when you're having fun but that wasn't fun at all and yet it went by so fast."

"I think the worst part was when Erik showed up," said Ponyboy.

"Shut up!" said Darry, "I'm not finished talking to you!"

"I don't want to talk to you right now," said Sodapop, "I'm going to bed." He left the room.

"Well, that leaves you and me, Ponyboy," Darry said menacingly.

"I don't want to talk either," said Ponyboy, hoping that that would work for him as well.

Unfortunately, it didn't, "Not so fast kid, you've got to understand how angry it makes me when you're late."

At this point, Pony decided to add some drama to the situation, "You hate me don't you!" he yelled as he ran out of the house and down the street. As he ran he began to feel like the fight was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, for some reason. He began to feel like his whole world was crashing down around him and there would never be any way out of the horrible pain he called life. He felt like he was in a tunnel and it was sealed at one end so that when he tried to see the light, all he could see was a strange rubber stopper. He felt so depressed that he wanted hang himself from a tree, like Judas even though that's a terrible analogy. He wondered if he would even live to see his fifteenth birthday or if he would kill himself before then.

His wallowing was suddenly interrupted when he saw a soc walking down the street. "Hey soc!" he yelled, feeling reckless, "Lookin' for a fight?"

"Yeah," called the soc as he pulled out a gun.

'Oh no!' thought Ponyboy, 'And I was so young!'

Just then Mike came running out of nowhere and said, "Leave him alone soc!"

"No", said the soc.

"Come on, Ned," she said, "You don't wanna go to jail do you?"

"Stay out of this, Mike!" Ponyboy yelled.

"They won't send me to jail, I'm rich," he said just before he shot Pony seventy-three times.

* * *

Later that night the whole gang—which wasn't actually a gang—was standing around in the hospital, waiting for Pony to wake up.

"Oh God!" cried Darry, "I shouldn't have yelled at him – he's such a sensitive boy!"

"So let me get this straight…" Dally was very puzzled, "He was shot seventy-three times—with one gun—and yet he's still alive and not even in critical condition?"

"The doctor says he'll be fine," said Soda.

"That's just bizarre."

Just then Mike burst in, "I got here as fast as I could!" she said.

"What makes you think anyone wants you here?" asked Dally.

"I tried to save him," she sobbed, ignoring Dally's inquiry.

Dally rolled his eyes (or should I say 'orbs') and said, "You should have jumped in front of the bullets."

Just then Darry said, "Ack!" and then began a fit of coughing. When he finished coughing, he said, "Pony you're awake! I'm so sorry I yelled at you!"

"'S ok," said Ponyboy.

This was followed by a twenty minute cry-and-hug-a-thon.