Chapter 5

Over a weeks time, I still didn't know what to think about Pony, but every time he came around, Brian no longer seemed to mind me.

Most of the time, Brian took to following Two-bit around like a lost duckling, learning all of the "tricks of the trade," as Two-bit would call them. But Brian had yet to gather up the courage to actually steal anything. Out of admiration, or maybe just fear, I didn't tell my mother. Brian would kill me.

On the morning of our 15th birthday, Pony had been running a fever for 2 straight days, and without the company of my only friend, and Brian out finding excitement, I was down trodden.

At least 3 times a day I'd snuck past my protective mom to see Pony, but as clever as I was at getting past her, I couldn't get past Darry.

"Is Pony up?" I asked innocently, attempting to slip past him once again.

"Joy, you know he's sick, I've already told you. Does your mother know you're gone? She'd kill me if you got sick." He was trying to sound serious, but I could tell he was smiling.

I shook my head. Rubbing my knee where it had hit their coffee table. That darn table was out to get me, I swear it, I had never in my life ran into a single object as many times as I ran into that table a day.

"Come on, Darry, don't make her go home." Two-bit said from the couch. "Sit down, Joy, get yourself a beer."

"That's alright, Two-bit. Come on, Lady, let's go home."

"Suit yourself."

"Oh, and Joy," Darry said as I headed towards the door, "Happy Birthday."

I smiled, and walked out of the door. (After hitting that d table again!)

"Hey Joy! Hold up!" I turned at the sound of Soda's voice.

"Here," he said, trying to catch his breath, "We were gonna junk this, but Pony said that you might want it."

"What is it?" I asked before he placed it in my hands. It was the typewriter. "Thanks Soda." I grinned.

"Listen, Darry has to work the afternoon shift today because one of the workers broke an arm or something. You can come by then, because I think Pony's about to die of boredom...or lack of cigarettes." He added, chuckling to himself.

"Yeah, okay, I'll come by later." I told him.

When I got back home I could smell cake cooking in the kitchen and I could hear my mother lecturing Brian about his behavior the last few days. I crept as quietly upstairs as I could, hoping to avoid a lecture myself.

"Joy Carson! Where have you been?" She scolded when I was on the last step. I sighed and reluctantly turned around. I wished I wasn't blind for that one minute, just so I could see if she really did have eyes in the back of her head.

"I was just on a walk, I-"

"You went to go visit that boy again, didn't you? Don't you think that I don't know what you're up to and let me tell you that I don't like at all! Who knows what that boy could want with you."

"Mom!" My cheeks got hot. "I just went on a walk, okay!"

"Don't you leave this house again! Ever!" She added, "The last thing I need is to have to start worrying about you too."

"Fine." I said, and abandoned any thoughts of attempting to reason with her.

I hate mothers. What I hated worse was being such a good girl. I wished I could find the courage to disobey my mother, but I couldn't. In the end, it was Brian who saved the day.

"Joy, are you coming to see Pony or not?" Brian asked.

"I can't, mom won't let me out of the house." I told him glumly.

"It's alright, he's downstairs."

"Really?" I perked up a bit. Okay maybe more than a bit, I tried not to make it obvious to Brian how quickly I made it to the kitchen.

"Pony?" I asked when I pushed open the door.

"I'm over here." He said from behind me.

Attempting to hide a smile I turned around.

"How've ya' been?" I asked.

"Never better." He laughed sweetly. I could tell he was still sick by the hoarseness in his voice.

"You know if you get me sick my mother will murder you." I told him plainly.

"That's alright." He said, I wondered what he meant. "Listen, I've got to go."

"Already?" I frowned.

"Darry'll be home any minute. Give this to Brian, it's from Two-bit."

"Okay." I took the box, knowing pretty sure what was inside.

"This is from me." He pressed a smaller box into my palm. I was subconsciously aware of how soft his hands were and his familiar smell. "For you."

I was silent. "Thank you." I whispered finally running my fingertips along the edges of the box as he turned and left.

I didn't open the box that night, and to my surprise I wasn't deeply curious about what was inside. No one in my life, aside from my family, had ever given me a birthday gift before.

I tucked the box under my pillow and didn't fall asleep until much later that night.

Kind of an odd place to stop, I'm sorry for the shortness. Marching Band practice. Not fun. Review and make me feel better! Thanks!